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moth-nana · 7 months

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Night time talks

Bonten!Sanzu Haruchiyo x gn!reader

Summary: Sanzu seeks shelter at the bookshop where you work from a shooting. You take a liking to him and apparently so does he.

Not proof read!

Words: 2.3k

You had gotten a new job in a bookshop. The bookshop you worked in was cute and nice but it was in an area that was not that safe for women nor anyone really. The unsafe environment was mostly connected to all the bars and clubs that were owned by different gangs around Tokyo.

You had seen your fair share of violence when you were in your teens and successfully removed yourself from all that after highschool ended and you started to study literature and arts. You were happy when you got your new job but the place had raised your concern. Even though the shop was at the outskirts of the street where there were hardly any clubs and people mostly walked past to get to all the clubs and bars. You had had some girls come in before closing to seek shelter from some creepy individuals and you had been nice enough to keep them company and escort them to the nearest bus stop.

Today was different. You had a good amount of customers and when the late evening came along you started to prepare to close after a long day and many customers. Before you knew it someone ran into the shop. He had a pink mullet and formal suit west. He jumped over the register and crouched behind it. Then you heard bullets being fired not far from your workplace.

"Fuck this." You mumbled to yourself. You were too tired to even care to hide with the stranger.

"I advise you to get down." He whispered loudly. You looked at him. Your eyes directly caught his scars on the corners of his mouth. He looked like he could be a character from a book or a tv show that you would enjoy.

"I think I'm good. I have no reason to hide." Your answer was heard but the stranger didn't care. He yanked you down to his level. You landed on your but hitting your tailbone to the floor. You whined from the pain.

"I said I was good." You snapped at him. He gave you a side eye.

"I normally don't care if someone dies but right now I have no energy to clean up any blood from my clothes." He snapped back. At that moment you glanced at his right wrist and saw a tattoo that you wished to never see, a Bonten tattoo.

You heard some shots that were not as close anymore. You started to wake up more and realize the situation you were in. Should you get up and run? That would not be a great idea. Staying and waiting seems a more stable way to go from this.

You glanced at the pink haired man who was typing something on his phone. He huffed frustratingly and looked at you.

"The shooting is going to be over soon." He said this time quietly but he didn't necessarily whisper.

"Good, I need to get home." You moved to lean on the wall on the opposite side of the counter.

"Why?" He asked you. He seemed to be bored.

"I have a cat who I don't like to leave alone for too long. He tends to destroy my stuff when I leave him home for more than eight hours." You told him and he nodded.

"Do you have any pets?" You asked to be polite and for some reason you wanted to know more about him. He seemed dangerous and compelling.

"No, I don't really have time for pets nor do I really like those furballs." He replied to my not so creative question.

“You seem like a guy who keeps a really cool snake but I guess not.” you shrugged your shoulders and he looked at you. His pupils were slightly dilated. Your guess was that he was on drugs.

“How much have you taken?” You asked without actually thinking about it more. You acted stupid with no filter from the lack of sleep that had followed you for weeks now. You were too tired to mostly care much.

“Little enough for me to have a clear head but enough for you to get into hospital.” He stated with a smirk and then added, “You want some?”

“No thank you, keep whatever you got to yourself.” you waved your hands to show that you were declining his offer that most likely was a joke. You hoped it was a joke.

“Nice, more for me then.” He was taking something from his pocket that looked like a pack of pills but you stopped his hand by grabbing it.

“I would really appreciate it, if you wouldn’t take any substances in my presence.” He gave you a stare and you stared back.

“Fine.” He snapped and took his hand away from your grip without his precious drugs. You heard another bang and then it was quite like there was nothing outside. No people, no cars, no wind, nothing.

His phone lit up and he read the message he had received. "We are good to go." He informed you and rose to his feet. You followed his lead and rose from the floor. You dusted your jeans and gave him a nod.

“Next time warn me…”

“Sanzu”

“Sanzu” You gave him a smile. His face had carried almost no emotion other than annoyance or boredom since he had run into the shop but now he looked like he was unsure of something.

He shook his head and started heading out. With a wave of his hand as to say goodbye.

“Nice tattoo!” You yelled after him just before the door closed behind him. He turned to look at you and narrowed his eyes before walking away.

“He has some beautiful eyes.”

Youfelt like you were drowning in your own work. Everyday since the shooting had been exhausting with no help from the owner. It was like they had disappeared after you asked him if he could hire someone else to work with you.

You had to manage all the new books that came in and every decision that came with it. You liked to have your freedom but having no one to ask what they thought or was something you did a good idea made you feel exhausted.

You were stoking up new manga that came in yesterday afternoon. You heard the door opening and someone walking in. You didn’t turn to look who it was since your hands were full of new volumes of one of the most liked and bought manga.

“Hi,” a greeting just beside your ear made you jump a little and drop three volumes you had in your hands to the floor. You cringed as you thought how the cover might have gotten damaged.

“Oh fuck,” You whined before greeting Sanzu. You picked the dropped mangas up and checked their quality. They were still in pretty good condition so you put them to their place.

“It’s rude to ignore your customers.” Sanzu snickered behind you as you loaded the shelves quickly.

“Sorry for doing my job. Anyway, how can I help you?” You turned to look at him. He looked to be in pretty good shape. He looked at you with a subtle smirk on his lips.

“I wanted to come and ask you to recommend a book for someone like me.”

“Seriously?” You asked him and lifted your right eyebrow up a little.

“no,” he leaned towards you, “I needed a reason to talk to you.”

“Interesting, what do you need?” You leaned your upper body a little closer to his. You could feel the building up tension between you two.

“Your name and your number would be nice.” His voice sends shivers through your skin.

“My name is (Name), but you need to put on more effort than that to get my number.” You leaned back to your original position.

“Is that so?” His lips were curved into a big grin.

“Surely it is, I would like to have you on a date after my shift is over.” You felt daring with him standing before you like that. He scanned your face with his eyes for something. A small laugh left his lips as he straightened his back.

“Then that is what we’ll do.” He gave you a wink. He turned away from you to leave.

“19.15!” you shouted after him while he was walking out again.

“See you soon!” He yelled before stepping out of the store.

You were really waiting for the closing time. Not many customers came after he left and it made your time fly by slower than before or maybe it was because you were excited. You were cleaning up the counter when you saw him. He walked in front of the shop and you greeted him with a smile and held your finger up to tell him without words that it would take a second before you would meet him outside but he came in.

“Can you wait up a few seconds?” you asked before putting all the counted money where you should before closing. He was waiting without a word next to the door of the shop. He was leaning on the window with his hands in his pockets and a smirk playing on his face. He looked really handsome.

You finished with your closing and the last thing was to lock the place up and it would be all done. You had shut all the lights and the small shop had become dark. Only light that came in was from the streetlights outside. You walked towards the door and he opened it for you and let you walk out before him. You thanked him and locked the place up.

“Where to?” you asked Sanzu while he started walking towards all the clubs. “I was thinking of taking you to one of our restaurants to eat and then we would go and enjoy a few drinks in a club.” He summarized his plan and your nose crushed up. He seemed to take notice of that and stopped walking and so did you. He seemed amused before asking, “What would you like to change about my plan?” You had to think for a while before answering him. “I would like to do something that doesn’t involve money since I can’t afford anything fancy… Also I would like to do something memorable for both of us.” He seemed taken back by your words. “Then what would you like to do?” He asked and you took his hand. “Follow me.” You started to pull him by his hand to the closest bus stop.

That night you had taken a bus with Sanzu to the closest grocery store and bought ingredients to a dish you liked very much. You had welcomed him into your apartment and let him pet your black cat, Niko, and cooked you two food.

He had enjoyed the food you made and you two had talked about anything you two had thought of.

He didn’t really tell you much about his work, but he told you about stupid shit his coworkers had said and done that had annoyed him. You told him about your studies and your boss who had just left you with the bookshop. He listened well and asked questions. You too listened to him and liked to hear him talk. In the end he left around two in the morning.

You were at awe how he acted more humane than you thought. He didn’t seem so scary after you had pulled him into the bus and partly forced him to go to the grocery shop with you. He seemed so out of place sitting at your dining table keeping you company while you cooked and after that sitting next to you on your couch.

After that night it became a habit for him to visit at your place at evening at least once a week. He seemed to be more at ease when he got to talk to you while you made food or did some studying.

He had found some paintings in your room once and had begged for you to let him keep one so he could have something to remember you by at his place.

You had one picture of him. It was a polaroid picture of him sitting on your dining table head leaning on his hand while partly falling asleep with an actual smile.

Sometimes when he came by he had blood on his hands and a wicked grin on his face. It did scare you a bit at first but after a while of him showing up like that on your doorsteps it also became a part of your reality. It wasn’t all new, you had been a part of a delinquent world before but knowing that the things he did were more than fights in a parking lot that left bruises on both parties made you feel weird. It felt like Sanzu was easing you into his world bit by bit.

“You know that I love you, right?” You asked him as he had come out of your shower with clean clothes he had brought to your place a few weeks prior.

“Oh, really?” His voice was playful as the look on his face. “Where did this come from?” He tilted his head and you shrugged. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I love you too.”

Bonus: Before he was supposed to take you on a date.

“Take them clubbing!” Ran earned a few approving nods.

“No, take them to eat in one of our restaurants or something more expensive.” Koko disagreed with Ran and sat with his hands crossing his chest.

Kakucho was shaking his head. “Ask them. By what you told us before they most likely will not like clubs.” He was ignored by most and Sanzu decided to go with both Koko’s and Ran’s ideas. But Kakucho knew better.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x reader #bonten sanzu #bonten x reader #tokyo revengers x gn!reader

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

----

"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

542 notes · View notes

comfortbucky · 3 years

Note

Hey! Can i request a cold, lonely ex-hydra reader × bucky who falls in love with her. Adding some panic attacks and nightmares of the reader.

i love this idea!!! thank u for submitting🥰

𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: avenger!bucky x ex-HYDRA!fem!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers, angst (if u squint), soft!bucky

warnings: canon level violence, description of injuries, blood is mentioned, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares

A/N: i just came up with a random name for the HYDRA leader the reader is after🤣 so just ,,, ignore // also!!!! i tried out a different writing style than what i’m used to! hope u don’t mind🥺 just been feeling like a lot of my writing is the same and wanted to try something new!!!

word count: 3.5k (this is so long LMAO sorry 😭 literally why am i like this)

my masterlist!

completed requests!

The suit that you once considered a second skin, now felt uncomfortable and constricting, like a python squeezing the life out of you. Although, it made sense since the very organization of the uniform you were wearing did exactly that.

HYDRA.

For so long you were just another mindless pawn to them, just doing without every actually thinking. Unlike your younger brother, Alex. They indoctrinated him as well, getting a hold of both of you from a young age, but he was there when Captain America took down S.H.I.E.L.D. and it changed his entire worldview. You found everything he said about “freedom” to be stupid, naive, and dangerous. And you would later prove yourself correct.

You pull yourself from your thoughts as a group of HYDRA soldiers walk past the shrubbery you hid behind. Quickly and quietly, you get up and join them as they march towards the HYDRA base. As soon as you get inside, you manage to slip away from the rest of the group to search for your target.

Since HYDRA took the possibility of you ever having a normal life away, as far as you were concerned, your only purpose in life was to kill the man who was at the center of it all, Viktor Cross. And after months of tracking him down, formulating the perfect plan, that’s exactly what you were going to do today.

You make your way towards one of the main lab facilities, gun in hand when you see several unconscious guards lying on the floor in front of you. Shifting your gaze up, you see that the door has been ripped open, grip marks on the sides.

This was not part of the plan.

As you squeeze through the open door and enter the lab, you come to a halt, frozen in shock. There’s your target, Viktor, shoved against the wall by none other than Captain America himself. You almost let out a chuckle in disbelief at the irony of the situation. Instead, you take a step forward, and the glass cracks beneath your feet, alerting the men of your presence.

Shit.

Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. Viktor’s lips curve into a smirk as you make your way to them.

“Agent- Miss Y/N,” he corrects himself. “What a pleasant surprise.” You ignore him and look to address Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America.

“Let him go and give him to me,” you start, Steve eyeing you cautiously. “So I can kill him,” you snarl, quickly turning to Viktor to see that his smirk had been wiped off his face.

“Aren’t you HYDRA?” He questions, nodding to your suit and eliciting a cackle from Viktor.

“Not anymore,” you mumble, before lifting a leg to kick Steve in his side. You hit him across the face with the end of your gun for good measure. He stumbles over, giving you enough time to grab Viktor’s collar, before he falls to the floor, and slam him back against the wall. His eyes are full of desperation and you felt nothing but pure, burning rage. You shove the barrel of your gun under his chin and place your hand on the trigger.

“You were such a gifted agent, Y/N. Don’t throw away such potential, come back.”

“Go to hell.”

Before you could pull the trigger, a force propels you to the ground and you feel a sharp pain in your side. Silence and then ringing fills your eyes as you squint your eyes to try and visualize the situation. Your vision is blurry, but clear enough to clouds of smoke engulf Viktor’s figure as he escapes. A muffled voice from behind you speaks, but you can’t make out any of the words they’re saying. You look down to see red. Just crimson red, staining your abdomen. Hands land on your shoulders, shaking you gently as your vision fades to black.

Viktor is in front of you, the barrel of his gun directed right at your head. He smirks as he moves his hand to the trigger.

“Hail, HYDRA.”

A gunshot goes off, forcing you to shoot up in bed, gasping for air. As you start to regain your senses, you realize you’re surrounded by a group of strangers. Well, not complete strangers, the Avengers to be exact. Part of your job required you to study their files, learn everything about them. You could recite from memory where and when they were born, their greatest strengths and weaknesses. Suddenly, your side starts to burn with pain, and you carefully lean back in bed. There’s an array of wires and tubes connected to you and you hear the rhythmic beeping of various machines. You’re in a hospital, or some sort of medical facility.

“That, is exactly why I said we should use restraints.”

You’re staring at the ceiling when you hear Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark, speak.

“Tony, she lost a liter of blood, she’s not going anywhere.”

Steve appears in your view, looking down at you.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

You shift your gaze away from him. The last thing you expected to come out of this mission was to meet the Avengers, let alone them save you.

Steve sighs, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We wanna find Viktor too.”

There’s nothing he could say that could get you to speak. Your hatred for HYDRA didn’t mean you suddenly liked the Avengers. If anything, they were part of the problem too, so you stay silent.

“Told you, she’s not gonna talk,” Tony quips. From your research, you had come to learn that he was an arrogant man, and his statement only proved you right. “Maybe you should get Manchurian Candidate to come down, give her an ex-HYDRA buddy,” he says sarcastically.

Upon hearing “ex-HYDRA buddy,” you furrow your brows. Maybe it was the lack of blood in your body, but it took you a second to process his words and understand who he was referring to. Your eyes dart back to look at Steve’s but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back.” His voice trails off as he exits the room.

You’re still staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps return and then several others departing.

There’s only one other person in the room beside you. Without even looking up, you already know who it is. His breathing was slow and steady until you started to shift in bed to reposition yourself. His breath hitched for a moment, before returning back to his normal breathing pattern.

“Killing him isn’t gonna make you feel better.” His comment makes you roll your eyes as you slowly sit up to look at him. There were no logical thoughts in your head, all you could feel was pain and fury. Anger swelled within you, your emotions boiling over.

“That’s rich, coming from the Fist of HYDRA,” you spat out. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt your stomach drop. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a while. What was it? Regret?

Bucky’s face fell but he kept his eyes on you. It was a look that made you feel worse, worse than the searing pain in your side.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” he said in a tone so gentle, you felt another strange, new emotion but couldn’t quite label it. You quickly shift gears to avoid addressing the uncomfortable feelings swirling around in your stomach.

“Are you keeping me hostage to lure Viktor in? Because it's not going to work." Bucky shook his head.

"We want..." he trailed off, causing you to tilt your head in curiosity. “We need your help finding him.” You scoffed.

“What do I get out of it?” Bucky’s silence gave you your answer. Shaking your head, you start to disconnect yourself from the multitude of wires attached to you and get out of bed.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he started, as you threw off your blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.

Standing up quickly, the blood from your head pooled in your legs, causing you to feel dizzy. Your head spun and your arms reached out for something, anything stable to grab onto. It was a metal hand. Despite it being cool to the touch, it ignited a heat to rise to your cheeks. You look down and mumble a thank you as Bucky helps you back into bed.

Letting out a sigh, you realize with the condition you’re in, you can’t leave. Definitely not well enough to go after Viktor alone. Shutting your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, you curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you finally speak, keeping your eyes closed. Bucky nods, even though you don’t see, and you hear him walk off.

After a couple days of rest, you were cleared by Bruce to get discharged. Viktor had gone deep in hiding, making your job to find him a lot harder. Tony had so graciously given you an extra room in the tower, right next to Bucky’s. He was probably the one person you saw the most, purely due to location, and the fact that everyone else cautiously kept their distance from you. It made sense though, since you rarely spoke to anyone and spent most of your time in the lab looking for any clues of Viktor’s location. When you weren’t searching for him, you were training in the gym. Bucky was there a lot too, both of you waking up at ungodly hours of the morning. No words were ever exchanged between the two of you, and yet, there was some level of comfort you felt being around him. Must’ve been an ex-HYDRA thing.

“What’s on your mind?” You walk over to Alex and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He sighs.

“What if,” he starts, furrowing his brows. “What if freedom is good?” He speaks quietly, fearful of HYDRA listening in on your conversation.

It feels like you’ve got the wind knocked out of you.

“Alex,” you grab him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” You’re searching his eyes, trying to understand what’s gotten into him.

“Captain America.” The biggest threat to HYDRA’s existence. He looks down at his hands. “He was willing to risk his life for it. It has to be worth something right?” Alex looks back up to you with a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen since you were children. Uncertainty. You sigh and pull him into your chest, stroking his hair.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting. Hot tears fall from the corners of your eyes. It’s the same dream you’ve had for the last week. Although, you wouldn’t consider it a dream necessarily, but it wasn’t a nightmare either. Just a bittersweet memory.

Bucky could tell that something was up with you for the past week. Despite having gone through a bit of therapy, Steve’s idea, the nightmares still came to him. So Bucky was already wide awake when he heard your weeping on the other side of the wall. It didn’t help that he was also a light sleeper with super-soldier hearing. He didn’t know what was causing you to be so upset, but he didn’t want to intrude and ask. Neither of you had spoken to the other since you first arrived.

But this night was different from the rest. Usually, you would flip endlessly through channels on ur TV until you eventually fell asleep, but it wasn’t working this time. There’s a tight pain in your chest and suddenly, you’re suffocating. You rip off your covers and spring out of bed, tripping on your blankets along the way. At this point, you don’t even register the pain of slamming down, face-first on the ground. Panic has taken over your body, tears now streaming down your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping for relief.

He wasn’t planning on doing anything until he heard a loud thud from your room. Immediately, Bucky gets up and arrives at your door. It’s rude to just barge into someone’s room, his mom taught him that from a young age, so he settles on knocking. You don’t hear it though, the only sound you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing as you hyperventilate. Bucky hears it too and ultimately decides on inviting himself into your room.

“Y/N?”

You’re lying on your side, curled up in a fetal position with your hands covering your face, when Bucky opens the door. He quickly arrives by your side, kneeling beside you, as he examines you for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

You manage to shake your head in response, anxiety still flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, Bucky’s familiar with panic attacks, having had them himself. But he also knows that everyone deals with them a bit differently. Guess he did manage to learn some useful things from therapy.

“Can you try breathing with me?”

He starts to take deep breaths in and out until he sees you start to follow along with him, your hands still covering your face. There’s a part of you that feels stupid for keeping them there, but they help ground you, so you continue to shield your face. After what feels like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes, your panic subsides. That’s when a wave of embarrassment hits you, realizing that it had been Bucky with you during your panic attack.

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you’re greeted by piercing blue eyes. You blink a couple times, realizing that Bucky had taken a spot on the ground, lying on his side to face you, his hands pressed together under his head like a pillow. He smiles and you feel warm. It’s terrifying, the new feelings that Bucky has caused you to feel and yet, you don’t mind.

“You feelin’ better?” You nod and smile back, something you haven’t genuinely done in a while.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

You stare at each other in silence, lying side by side. There’s no physical touch involved but somehow, this moment, it feels intimate. Bucky breaks the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He speaks in a voice so soft, it almost sounded like a whisper.

It might’ve been the fact that he just calmed you down from a panic attack, but as you looked into his eyes, you felt the walls you had built up for the last year slowly come crashing down.

“He killed my brother,” you reply, maintaining your eyes on Bucky. You searched his eyes for any fear or pity, but all you could find was a look of understanding. His eyes were starting to become a safe place for you.

“Alex was there when Steve took down S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA along with it. He wanted out, out of the organization.” Taking a deep breath, you continue. “Word got around about a “rat,” so I took the blame. Viktor was about to shoot me when Alex’s dumbass ran in front of me, sacrificing himself.” You let out a chuckle, your vision getting blurry as tears swelled in your eyes. “He was a goddamn idiot, but he also had a heart of gold.”

As you start to cry, Bucky hesitatingly extends an arm to hover over your body, trying to gauge your reaction. Physical touch was something he struggled with during the beginning of his recovery, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He’s reassured when you grab onto his shirt and pull yourself closer to him, and wraps an arm around you, his other hand softly stroking your head.

You hadn’t cried like this since Alex died, bottling up all of your emotions to focus on finding the man responsible for his death. But as you sobbed into Bucky’s chest, you realize that your love for Alex had transformed into an ugly, burning hatred for Viktor. He wouldn’t want this. You didn’t want it, at least, not anymore. The only thing you wanted was your brother back, and that was impossible.

Bucky held you in his arms until you fell asleep, listening to the sounds of your slow, rhythmic breathing, dozing off shortly after.

That night with Bucky had softened your cold, hard exterior that you initially presented yourself with. You would willingly spar with Nat in the training room and join the team for breakfast or dinner. Everyone noticed and, while at first thrown off by it, happily embraced it. Especially Bucky.

Initially, he got up to work out in the early hours of the morning as a habit. Now, he woke up to see you. His heart did flips in his chest every time he walked in the gym and saw you. Since that night, you started to acknowledge his presence, turning to smile and wave as he walked through the doors. It was something he looked forward to every day.

During the day, you were focused hard on tracking down Viktor and Bucky knew that. But he also knew he wanted to spend more time with you. He looked for reasons to enter the lab, whether it was offering snacks to you throughout the day or helping Bruce or, even Tony. Anything to see you again.

Bucky realized that there was a deeper, stronger emotion that he felt for you when he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The first thing he thought about was you. Specifically, how you were the only thing that could possibly calm him down. Although he’d come in that night to help you with your panic attack, you ended up helping him as well. He hadn’t slept as soundly and peacefully as he did with you. And you hadn’t either. There were several nights when neither of you could sleep and ended up running into each other. It slowly became a routine that would begin in the kitchen, exchanging life stories, and end on the couch in the common area, entangled in each other’s arms.

Tonight you didn’t show up and Bucky panicked. He stared at the kitchen clock. It had been 20 minutes and you still hadn’t shown up. Bucky racked his brain for anything he could’ve done to scare you off, but came up with nothing. It wasn’t like you two had been officially together, Bucky had no idea what you were to each other. All he knew is that he wanted to be with you, always.

You were soundly asleep in bed, passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. It was a particularly physically exhausting day for you, training with both Nat and Steve.

Bucky was so caught up with the thoughts racing through his head, he hadn’t noticed that his feet had taken him right to your door. He stands there for a moment, silently debating what to do. Grumbling under his breath, he musters up the courage to knock on your door. Right as he was about to turn away and shuffle off to his room, your door opens. You greet him with a yawn and a tired smile.

“Oh, hey Bucky.”

He looks at the bags under your eyes and feels instant regret wash over him, realizing that you weren’t avoiding him, but just getting some sleep.

“Sorry,” he looks down at his feet. You frown and place a hand on his cheek to lift his head up.

“Something wrong?” He avoids your gaze, partially because he’s embarrassed and partially because his cheeks were turning red because of your touch.

“No.” You cross your arms and let out a sigh.

“You’re a bad liar.” It’s his turn to sigh, as he scratches the back of his head.

“You didn’t come to the kitchen,” he lets out, in almost a whisper. It hits you. You were so tired, you had completely forgotten about your nightly tradition. “It’s stupid, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up," he mumbles. Bucky begins to walk off but you grab his hand. When he turns to look at you, his brows are raised at your touch.

As you start to speak, you pull him close, facing you. “It’s not stupid.” His hands move to hold your waist as yours move to wrap around his neck. You pause, an idea popping into your head. “I’m kind of tired from training today, wanna just come sleep with me?” He nods and you drag him to your bed, nestling into his arms as he holds you to his chest, his chin resting above your head. You tilt your head back to see him looking down at you. There’s a fluttering feeling in your chest and you smile.

“Just for future reference, you have an open invitation to cuddle with me, anytime.” Bucky chuckles at your offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind, doll.”

Bucky cups your face in his hand and you nuzzle your cheek in his palm. His eyes dart down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

Then, the most delicate, sweetest kiss you’ve ever received is on your lips.

You flutter your eyes open as you both pull apart. He quickly kisses your nose before pulling you back into his chest, speaking softly.

“And you have an open invitation to kiss me, anytime.”

304 notes · View notes

somethingwritey · 3 years

Note

How is the Rangshi long fic coming? Id love an update on ittttt!

Hello! I'm so glad you're still thinking about my Rangshi fic! It's currently around 20k at the moment—definitely getting a bit carried away!

Because you asked, here's another little out-of-context snippet ;)

-----

“Do you think the spirits would mind if I assassinated a world leader?”

Jinpa jerked his head up at the question, risking a glance behind him at her. Kyoshi knew she must be a sight to behold, laying out across the wide saddle and staring up at the darkening clouds. In her hands, she opened and closed a fan in time to her pounding pulse.

“I don’t think that’s listed as an Avatar duty,” Jinpa stammered, thoroughly taken aback by her proposal.

“Bummer.”

Jinpa was quiet for a few moments, no doubt trying to edge around the subject towards her reasoning. “I take it that meeting with the Fire Lord went… poorly?”

Kyoshi propped herself up on her elbows to stare him in the face. She hoped he could read how absolutely stupid that question had been. She’d emerged from the Fire Lord’s palace by stomping, causing tiny earthquakes as she marched over to the stables. That should’ve been indication enough.

“He’s out of control.” Kyoshi shivered—Rangi’s absence making itself very apparent just then; she could always be counted on for a little extra warmth while traveling.

Kyoshi went back to staring at the sky.

Zoryu’s words about the Firebender still echoed in her ears, doing more to chill her than the night air ever could. She wished she could put more distance between Rangi and the Fire Lord, despite being hidden away in Yokoya.

For a terrifying moment, she wondered if Zoryu somehow knew. If he could see the girl in her cotton shift, laid out on the infirmary bed with her hands knotted in the sheets. If he had discovered a way to look at the bruises on her face and the way her breath still rattled slightly whenever she breathed. Maybe this whole meeting had been a distraction, a diversion to take Kyoshi away from the infirmary and Rangi. Maybe, it was too late.

“Jinpa!” Kyoshi felt her heart pounding in her ears. “Fly faster!”

She worked herself up as they flew, imagining horrific scenes of injury and destruction—rivaling the iceberg or North Chung-Ling - only this time, it would absolutely be her fault. If anything happened to Rangi, the Flying Opera Company, even Hei-Ran and Atuat, she would be to blame.

Kyoshi gripped the edge of the saddle, her knuckles turning white from the effort. She watched the ground grow closer and closer as Yingyong spiralled into a descent. Her chest tightened with every drop in altitude, and once, she almost slipped over the edge and plummeted the last several feet to the ground.

“Quiet evening.” Jinpa seemed on the whole unaware of her own personal panic. He landed Yingyong with ease and dismounted, walking around the side of the bison to assist Kyoshi like he always did.

She didn’t wait for the monk to make it over to her. She tumbled from the saddle, falling hard onto the ground and scrambling back up to her feet.

“Kyoshi!” he yelled after her in disbelief.

She didn’t turn around, stumbling towards the infirmary to what she knew would be waiting for her. Blindly, she pushed open the door and tripped over the doorway, panting and gasping for air, to find -

No evidence of violence. No ransom note or bodies or trails of blood. Just Hei-Ran and Atuat sitting in a few chairs with bowls of noodles, with the rest of the Flying Opera Company still bedridden, but looking more vibrant than before. Even Rangi looked, on the whole, unchanged, propped up in bed. Someone had even taken the time to put her hair back up in its usual topknot.

“Well,” Hei-Ran said dryly, taking in Kyoshi’s haggard appearance. “Are you being pursued by wolfbats? Lion vultures? Spider snakes, perhaps?”

Kyoshi’s face flushed red, and she tried hard to catch her breath - smoothing down her skirts to remove the ruffles.

“Did the monk get eaten?” Atuat asked calmly, taking another bite of her noodles. Clearly, the two women were enjoying the joke at Kyoshi’s expense.

Rangi covered her mouth, looking as though she was trying to keep a straight face for Kyoshi’s sake and failing at it. Kyoshi glared at her.

“Not you, too.”

A little snort escaped Rangi’s fingers, and her eyes went wide.

“Some bison ride you must’ve had,” Kirmia ventured, surveying Kyoshi’s windswept state. “What did happen to that Airbender of yours?”

Kyoshi gestured out the door. “Probably unsaddling Yingyong,” she told them all, still somewhat out of breath. “I, uh, just needed to check something.”

“The Fire Lord put you on edge?” Hei-Ran put down her bowl of noodles, staring hard at Kyoshi.

She forced herself to look back calmly. The last thing she wanted was to let everyone know that she’d gotten worked up over some unfulfilled threats. And now that she was here, even Kyoshi could tell how stupid she’d been. The infirmary was the safest place for Rangi right now, surrounded as she was by Hei-Ran and Atuat and unable to make any wrong move the Fire Lord could use to justify an attack.

Kyoshi forced a smile, relaxing her shoulders the best she could. “Nothing of the sort.” She tucked her fans back into her belt. “The meeting was simply to confirm what he already knew. Pretty big waste of time, actually.”

Hei-Ran was still studying her skeptically, probably trying to pinpoint the reason for Kyoshi’s sudden change in demeanor. Kyoshi dared to look over at Rangi again.

Her expression mirrored her mother’s, lips slightly pursed and head tilted to the side. If Kyoshi didn’t want Hei-Ran to discover the true nature of her meeting with Zoryu, she definitely didn’t want Rangi figuring it out.

Rangi’s station meant everything to her, and she took her job very seriously. If she knew that her own Fire Lord was pondering possible ways to strip the girl of her life - or worse, her honor - she would lose it.

Kyoshi had already seen how Fire Nation citizens treated their disgraced ranking officials. Hei-Ran had been pitied, patronized, pet like an animal. If anyone were to take that tone with Rangi, well, Kyoshi couldn’t promise that she would be able to keep her Avatar State in check.

“Care for some noodles?” Atuat gestured to her own bowl, holding it up for Kyoshi to see.

There was no way Kyoshi could turn down food. She hadn’t eaten since… well, Kyoshi couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d eaten, and she could feel Rangi staring daggers at her.

“Yeah,” she smiled at Atuat. “Noodles would be great.”

////

It was three days before Rangi was able to stand.

Atuat worked on her the best she could, trying to heal the internal damage caused by Yun. She told Kyoshi that bits of his earth dagger had broken off inside her wound, causing irritation and leaving a large possibility for infection. It didn’t help that Rangi was a terrible patient.

“I can get up,” she kept insisting. “I’m fine!”

When Atuat finally let her try, Rangi leapt at the opportunity, getting to her feet much too quickly and nearly doubling over from lingering stiffness and pain.

“Careful!” Kyoshi cried, hovering nearby. The outburst earned her stares from both Rangi and Atuat.

When Rangi straightened up again—slower this time—Kyoshi could see the imprint of the bandages under her shift - wrapped generously around her torso like battle armor.

“Are you sure she should be doing this?” Kyoshi asked Atuat, probably only fueling Rangi’s determination. “She’s still got bandages on! What if she starts bleeding again? We can try again tomorrow! Or next week!”

“Kyoshi, what’s your problem?” Rangi narrowed her eyes.

She was being far too overprotective, Kyoshi knew. She should back off. Let Rangi manage her own recovery. But even though it was inviting Rangi’s wrath, Kyoshi didn’t want her Firebender’s stubbornness to impede her healing process.

Rangi needed to take it slow. Make sure she didn’t make things worse with her rush to get better. As much as Kyoshi wanted to see her girl back on her feet, she knew it wouldn’t benefit either of them if it happened too quickly.

That’s what Kyoshi told herself as she watched Atuat support Rangi and instruct her to gently raise and lower her arms - stretching out her muscles. Kyoshi just didn’t want Rangi to overextend herself. To tear open her wound. To hurry an infection along. Her concern was born from love and care, not selfishness.

Or cowardice.

As if to poke holes in her reasoning, Hei-Ran entered the tent, arms crossed. “Jinpa told me your meeting with the Fire Lord ended… abruptly.” She glanced over at Atuat and Rangi for the briefest of moments. “Rangi, straighten your shoulders. Injuries don’t excuse bad posture.”

Rangi huffed, but obediently did as she was told. She respected her mother’s authority, whether she liked it or not.

Kyoshi picked her next words carefully. Lying to Hei-Ran was never a good idea, but neither was letting on just how badly the meeting had actually gone. “I think… the messages of both parties had ample time for sinking in.”

The words could’ve come straight from Yun’s mouth—vague with just the right amount of high-brow language. Maybe she wasn’t a hopeless cause after all.

Hei-Ran seemed surprised by the response as well. “I see. And what message did the Fire Lord impart on you?”

Shit.

Kyoshi tried to think on her feet. “Politics,” she said at last. “The importance of… political relations.”

“Sounds like the stuff Jianzhu used to preach,” Rangi offered, crinkling up her nose at the mention of the departed sage.

Hei-Ran sniffed dismissively at the mention of the man who’d nearly poisoned her to death. Kyoshi wondered inwardly if the woman ever mourned Jianzhu, despite everything. He had once been her close companion, after all.

Every one of Hei-Ran’s old friends were gone, she suddenly realized - swallowing hard. Kuruk. Kelsang. Jianzhu. The once-inseparable gang hadn’t stayed that way for very long. Hei-Ran was the sole survivor.

Killed after hunting dark spirits.

Murdered by Jianzhu.

Murdered by Yun. And me.

What terrible fates had been waiting for the previous Avatar team, often at the hands of each other. Was that what waited for her? For Rangi? For Wong and Kirimia? Was every Avatar doomed to bring failure and annihilation to the people who loved them most?

“Atuat,” she said sharply, turning to look at Rangi who’d made good progress accompanied by the Waterbender. “That’s enough for today.”

“Yes, Avatar.”

As Atuat moved to help Rangi back to bed, Rangi protested - an angry haze settling over her face as she watched Kyoshi move towards the door.

“What?” Rangi twisted in Atuat’s grip, trying to break free, to run after her. “Who let her call the shots around here? Kyoshi, don’t you dare walk away from me! I’m not through talking about this!”

Kyoshi didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

“Fine! Go clear your head! See if I care!”

And then Kyoshi made it out of earshot.

She would delay Rangi’s recovery as long as she possibly could, drag it out until the spirits themselves were begging the Firebender to get back on her feet. Because at least here in the infirmary, tucked away in Yokoya, she had people to keep her safe. She couldn’t get herself thrown into another life-threatening situation while she was still recuperating from the last one.

Kyoshi wouldn’t be the reason for Rangi’s obliteration.

And neither would Zoryu.

---

more coming soon! my commissions are open (and so is my ask box!)

#rangshi #atla #rise of kyoshi #kyoshi x rangi #longfic #writing commissions #fanfic #shadow of kyoshi #kyoshi #avatar kyoshi #avatar the last airbender #rangi x kyoshi #fan fic #fic update

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qianinterprises · 3 years

Text

Among the Horses {Part One}

Pairing: farm boy!Jaehyun x female!Reader

Other Characters: OC's, Haechan (sorta, kinda, not really), Renjun (sorta, kinda, not really)

Genre: fluff, angst, country au, farmboys and lady's au, falling in love, slow burn, friends to lovers

Warnings: verbally abusive aunt, yelling, degrading (not the fun kind)

Word Count: 3.8k

Overall Synopsis: Being sent to live with your aunt isn't exactly something wonderful, especially because she's verbally abusive and downright determined to turn you into a "proper lady" who a wealthy man will want to marry. However, perhaps living there won't be so bad. After all, you've got a handsome farm boy teaching you to ride horses.

Part One Synopsis: Arriving at your aunts is very challenging and trying. After being put through the ringer with your attire, you finally get a chance to explore the green world, and spend more time with the farm boy who'd picked you up from the airport.

Author's Notes: So I started this a while ago and didn't really do anything with it, but I love it and I really wanna write more so yeah... Also, I've posted this on a03 as well.

Tagging: @treasuretaeil @hachanbaecon @hwangful

A white, dirty pick-up truck pulled off the main road and onto a long, winding dirt road, leading them closer to a grand house that you had only been to a few times in your life. The place you’d be living for the next year or two.

The truck bumped along the loose gravel, crashing over potholes, sending you bouncing on the very worn cloth of the cab, your eyes glancing worriedly to the male beside you, one of his hands planted firmly on the hard steering wheel, the other loosely placed on the stick shifter in the center of the bench.

“Are you sure the tires won’t… fall off?” your voice was thick and laiden with worry.

He glanced over at you, warm brown eyes gazing intently into yours, the opticals flecked with curiosity and amusement. Embarrassment crept under your skin.

“You haven’t been out here in awhile? Have you miss?” he asked, tone filled with friendly amusement.

You awkwardly scratched at your nose, a bit of a nervous habit she’d picked up over the years.

“No. My parents never had the money to travel.”

Your voice was small, etched in nervousness and anxiety.

He cast you a gentle smile as he pulled the truck around a sharp curve in the road, and there it was.

The house was huge, at least three stories high and stretched across the land it was perched upon. The foundation red brick that looked freshly cleaned (it probably had been), a contrast to the pearly white of the rest of the structure. The curves and contours of the slightly oddly shaped house made it more enchanting and nerve-wracking, especially as you grew closer, tires hitting the smooth cement before your driver moved the shifter and parked the truck.

“Head on in, miss, I’ll get your bags.”

His accent was a combination of Asian mixed with southern, an odd mix that somehow seemed so delicately smooth and perfect, especially the way he drawled over the “r’s”

“Miss?”

You’d been stuck in your thoughts, eyes wide as you surveyed the prospects of your new home.

“Right, yes, thank you,” you said softly, moving to get out, the door creaking as it was opened.

Your black, falling apart sneakers hit the tan pavement of the driveway, the hooks of your overalls rattling loosely against your torso as they accommodated your movements; the loose denim legs falling just above your knees as you pushed the dingy door closed.

The male you’d ridden with, Jaehyun, he said his name was, pulled the latch of the truck bed and reached up to grab your mismatched luggage, his sturdy frame pressing into the hot metal of the truck.

“Do you need some help?”

Your voice was small, mixed with worry and hesitation.

You’d do just about anything to prolong the inevitable.

“That’s quite alright, miss,” he began. “You should head on inside. The heat is a harsh place for a lady,” he answered.

You looked down, playing with your fingers, but you didn’t reply. Instead, slowly moving toward the brick steps that would lead to the entrance of the beautiful home.

Anina Lee was a strict lady. She liked things just a certain way and she got them how she wanted. She didn’t tolerate bad behavior or disobedience. And she had a strong dislike for people that got in her way. Thus, she had never been married.

She lived alone, if you count having two live-in maids, a chef, and a stable hand that slept in the barn as living alone.

Alina was your aunt. Your mother’s elder sister who had alienated your mother when she’d married a man of lower class. That same man later had a wife who blessed him with three kids to care for, spending his days fixing the cars of those more fortunate than him, hoping to make a buck for his family.

That’s why you were here. A young girl, coming of age to be married off and starting a family of your very own. Your family couldn’t support you any longer, and as you prepared to move away in hopes of finding some sort of job or a life, your aunt had hastlessly offered to take you in. Your mother had all too happily obliged, hoping her only and eldest daughter would learn a thing or two from the elder woman, maybe turn you into the lady your mother and father had tried for years to make you.

The stainless white door slowly opened and an older woman stood in the frame. She was clearly in her 50s, stress lines drawn thickly in her forehead, wrinkles in the corners of her dull gray eyes, deep lines around her nose and mouth, her neck sagging just a little beneath her sharp jaw. She was a small lady. On first glance one may have a hard time understanding what makes her so fierce. She was small in stature, small in size and in frame, but she had the tongue of a snake, the heart of a lioness, and the skill of a chimp.

“(Y/N)! You’re finally here!”

You stood a good few inches taller than the woman, but that made you more nervous if anything. You made her way up the steps and, as you reached the woman in the door, you were promptly pulled into a proper hug that severely lacked warmth.

“I can’t believe you got on a plane and sat amongst all those people in that ghastly attire. You must change at once!”

The woman’s voice was so shrill it could pierce glass, but you held back the flinch.

“Martha!” the same voice called into the house as she pulled you in, shutting the door and encompassing them in the cool air conditioning.

A larger lady appeared, dressed in stained blue jeans and an ugly yellow shirt.

“Please show my niece to her room and help her change into something more… feminine and lady-like,” her aunt’s voice commanded.

“When you’re finished dear, have Martha show you to my study.”

There was no endearing term in the word “dear.” Simply an icy addition to a perfectly manicured sentence.

You watched your aunts receding form, pencil skirt tight on her legs, black heels sharply hitting the hardwood intimidatingly.

“Come with me, dear. Let’s get you changed,” the larger lady spoke softly.

She was older, maybe 60 or so, her skin dark tan, although you couldn’t tell if it was the sun or her natural skin pigmentation. Her voice was grainy, but soft and endearing. Motherly she’d dare say. And you thought that this woman may actually make living here bearable.

You followed the lady up the grand staircase, up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway until you reached the end. The lady pushed open the thick white door and stepped inside, you following her closely.

Inside, the room was surprisingly rustic. A simple, full-sized bed with an obviously homemade comforter thrown across it. A light gray plush rug beside the bed. The hardwood floors were surprisingly and delightfully bare. One large section of the wall was home to a large bay window that stretched from the ceiling to the plush gray cushion of the bench. There were a few flower paintings and other pointless nicknacks scattered on obsolete surfaces around the room, but you paid no mind to them as your attention was drawn to the lady opening the large mahogany grand dresser and plucking out two cloths.

She unfolded both neatly, placing them on the bed and you sighed. The skirt was long and pleated, patterns of red and white stretched in an annoying kaleidoscope arrangement across the nearly pointless garment and the white shirt appeared to be partly transparent.

“Go ahead and get changed dear, I’ll help you when you finish,” she said kindly and turned her back.

You waited for her to leave the room but it was apparent she had no intention to. Awkwardly, you began unhooking the straps of your overalls, letting the fabric clang to the floor. Your skin heated up, feeling all too exposed before sliding into the skirt, the itchy elastic clinging to your hips uncomfortably. You pulled your stained blue t-shirt off, swapping it for the crisp white one that you feared you’d stain in the next few moments.

The lady turned around, her wide hips bumping into the dresser slightly. The dresser was sturdy enough not to jostle, but it was obvious the corner was sharp and painful. You almost felt bad at the way the lady’s face winced, but it was quickly pushed away as calloused hands began gripping the delicate skin of your arms, squeezing along the skin up your arms.

She tsked and turned around, rummaging through the dresser once again, only to turn around with a black, light cardigan.

You gawked. Why on earth would you wear that atrocious thing in this weather? It was the middle of August! Not December!

“I know. But if your aunt were to see your arms, she’d have a fit. She probably still will,” she said.

You sighed. Your aunt hadn’t changed one bit. Your skin was fragile. The tops of your forearms lightly tanned, a pigment passed on from your father. The rest of your arms and body entirely was light. Lady’s should be gorgeously sunkissed to be beautiful and to be taken seriously.

With a huff, you put on the long black sleeves, the intricately designed cotton draping over your shoulders perfectly. But that didn’t mean it was any more comfortable. You could already feel the added heat seeping onto your skin. You’d be sweaty and uncomfortable soon.

“Now let’s do something about your feet.”

You looked down; your worn socks had holes all through them, mud permanently stained to the sweaty fabric.

Bustling from the room, you were left stunned in the wake of the surprisingly fast woman, watching her round the corner and disappear down the hall to fetch something to apparently “fix your feet.”

You thought you’d do something to speed along the process. The more time spent getting you dressed in these ridiculous clothes, the less time you had to explore the outside world. You made your way to the bay window, taking a seat on the plush cushion that accommodated you nicely. You pressed your back against the edge of the wall and turned your gaze to the picturesque green world filled with surprisingly lush looking grass, dips and hills along the valley, and the tops of trees further off in the distance. All this land was yours for the roaming. You couldn’t wait to get out those doors and go exploring.

The sound of water sloshing in a pot brought your attention back from the window, glancing curiously as the large lady placed the pot down in front of the window.

“Put your feet in.”

You didn’t argue. You were hesitant, but thought better than to argue and have your aunt boil you alive in this pot.

As soon as your dingy, dirty, mud pasted feet hit the water, you hissed. The temperature felt that it could boil the skin right off.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s hot, but your aunt is expecting you down soon and I have to do this as quickly as possible,” the lady said.

Grabbing your left foot, she picked the appendage up from the water along with a suds coated dish sponge and began mercilessly scrubbing away at the tender flesh. You whined and howled, tears pricking to your eyes as your skin was scrubbed and abused by the harsh bristles of the brush. You attempted to yank your foot away, but the tight grip on your ankle prevented much movement. You were stuck suffering as the skin became reddened from the irritation.

As soon as the painful experience came to a close, your now pink feet were dried with a towel before being slid into a pair of eccentrically beaded, golden strapped sandals that accentuated the rest of the over-the-top outfit nicely.

“You seem presentable enough now, although I’m sure the mistress of the house would have a few unkind things to say about your wild mane.”

You tried not to take offense. You liked your hair. It was an untamed mop that curved wildly carefree, blowing in the breeze that picked up the thick tufts.

“Thank you for your help ma’am.”

She bowed at the waist, a kind smile on her lips.

“No need for the ma’am dear. Call me Martha, or Mrs. Rivera if you must.”

And with no more haste, Martha Rivera led you back down the grand staircase to the bottom floor, the tight flats biting at your heels and ankles with every step you took, fighting off the winces that followed. You rounded a few sharp corners, venturing into a large sitting room with an extravagant flat screen high on the wall and couches that looked brand new. Through a dining room, table decorated with a sequined bronze cloth and the finest China you’d ever seen, although that wasn’t really a stretch. Finally, they made it to a large oak door, cracked just enough that you could see your aunt’s silhouette sitting behind an elegant red desk, glasses perched on her nose, pen in hand, eyes married to the computer screen. Mrs. Rivera left you by the door, and you almost spun on your heel and walked away. But of course, that would be too easy.

“Come in child. Stop standing in the doorway.”

Your blood froze in your veins. You pushed the door open and stolled in, tripping over the lion skin rug, stumbling a bit before catching your balance. Harsh wisps of breath rushed past your aunt's lips and the chair creaked as the weight lifted from it.

You straightened your back, staring fearfully into the cold gray eyes that trailed over your face and down your clothes.

The woman began moving slowly around you, manicured nails and boney fingers tracing over the outline of your clothes and jaw, running through your wild mane and down your hands, inspecting the bitten off nails. As she walked, she muttered things like “hair won’t do” and “horrible posture” before she stood back in front of you.

“You simply won’t do,” she said sternly.

The words hit hard. You may have been expecting something like this, but it didn’t make the words hurt any less.

“You look like you’ve been sleeping with the horses. Your nails are pitiful. Your skin is far too light.”

She gripped your jaw, tilting your head up harshly to expose your still slightly chubby neck.

“Can you ride a horse?”

The question was sudden and it caught you off guard, but you answered as quickly as your brain would allow.

“N-no. I’ve never ridden before.”

The woman sighed loudly, hot puffs of air pouring out of her flared nostrils.

“That’ll have to change. Starting tomorrow, you will be taking riding lessons from the stable boy. Every lady should have the basic skills of riding,” her tone was cold and brisk as she looked away and perched back at her desk.

“You’re dismissed. Dinner is at 6. Don’t be late. You may roam the grounds.”

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed her niece and immediately went back to work, not bating another eyelash as you fled hastlessly from the room, your eyes welling with tears as stress and fear washed over you, although more relieved that it was over and you could finally do something for yourself. You’d start by ditching these God forsaken shoes.

You made your way around the back door of the house, more by pure necessity than memory, simply logically thinking the best way around in the expansive flooring. When you made it, a smile broke across your face as you unfastened the painful shoes, kicking them off in a sloppy jumble by the door before opening the heavy door, the heat of the afternoon hitting your face, not that you minded.

As you stepped out, bare feeting meeting hot cement, you stripped the cardigan from your shoulders, draping it over a random, sun baked chair. You tore off through the grass, laughing giddily, breeze blowing wisps of your hair, skirt fluttering delicately over your skin. It would be difficult to do anything in the blasted thing, but you wouldn’t give yourself enough time to strip down into something better, opting to enjoy the last of the day while you could. And you’d start in the bright red barn your eyes immediately fell on.

Making your way through the soft grass that squished under the weight of your feet, you strolled into the half open barn, the soft snorts of animals bringing a smile to your lips. Just because you couldn’t ride, doesn’t mean you didn’t love the animals. You loved horses especially. They were such beautiful and majestic creatures. You’d always wanted a horse, but your family had never been able to afford one. You’d always wanted to ride, and now you could, although you didn’t understand why it was so important to your aunt.

The cool concrete felt rough beneath your feet, stray straws of hay littering the floor. It could have been a picture straight out of one of the Country Living magazines you’d kept hidden away at your parents home.

The first horse you came upon was a tall brown animal, head hung over the stall door, ears perked to attention, eyes trained on the new invader inside the barnhouse. He snorted at you and his hoof hit the barn door lightly in an attempt at getting closer. You stepped closer, slowly offering your hand out, letting the animal sniff searchingly.

“He’s looking for some sugar cubes.”

The voice came out of nowhere, interrupting your serenity, a yelp leaving your lips as your whole body jolted in the sudden fright.

You turned your head to the barn door where your driver was standing, taunt arms crossed over a broad chest, veiled from prying eyes by a lightweight flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His long legs were clad in dusty denim, mud and hay from his knees to the tops of the worn work boots.

“I’m sorry. I just like horses-”

“And you thought you’d come visit them?” he finished your sentence.

You immediately began shuffling your feet, eyes turning back to study the fading paint on the stall to keep from facing him.

Heavy footsteps hit the floor as the male moved closer until he was close enough to touch. His large, rough hand gripped your wrist lightly, bringing it up toward him. You let out a little yelp, riddled with confusion and curiosity until three small blocks were placed in your palm.

“Hold your palm out to him and don’t jerk away,” he spoke calmly, slowly urging you.

You nodded, having some sort of unkempt trust in his words as you turned back to the animal and extended your arm, palm flat, cubed sugar offered to the horse, who greedily munched them right out of your hands.

“His name’s Haechan. He’s a bit of a character.”

You nodded, drawing your now horse-slobbered hand away, opting to stroke the animal's fur from his nose to between his eyes.

“That’s an interesting name,” you said.

He hummed behind you and you heard his boots hitting the concrete as he moved away.

“Do you like animals?” he asked.

You spun around, eyes wide and shining.

“Yes! I love them! Sometimes I prefer animals over humans!”

His smile was gentle as he surveyed your physique, a dusty pink tinting his cheeks, although you thought nothing of it.

“Come on, I want to show you something,”he said, walking past you to the opposite exit of the barn.

You followed close behind, curious as to where he was taking her. Your feet fell back onto the grass, the long blades sliding between your toes as you followed in his wake. As they walked, a white picket fence came into view, not far from the barn, but oddly well hidden beneath the crest of a hill rolling through the land. Once you reached the fence, his hands curled around the boards, hoisting himself up, foot balanced on the bottom board as he climbed up, throwing a leg over one side, then the other, and jumping down. You stared at him in awestruck confusion.

“Climb over, I’ll catch you on this side.”

You didn’t know why you blindly trusted him. You didn’t know him from a random stranger in the town, but you complied, placing your foot onto the same board he had, pulling yourself up and swinging a leg over, then another. The skirt snagged in the boards a few times, one of your feet nearly slipping off the boards as you attempted to keep it pushed down. This proved to be more of a challenge as you balanced on your heels, hands clutching the top piece of wood as you contemplated how to get down now. That is, until his arms outstretched, slightly bent at the elbow, fingers parted, palms facing one another, and you knew what he wanted you to do. Taking a deep breath, you pushed off with your left foot, hands releasing your grip on the fence, letting yourself drop, eyes squeezing in slight fear that you’d soon flop hard against the green earth. But when strong hands caught your waist, arms drawing you in, broad chest breaking your fall, you braced herself against him, feet carefully being lowered until they pressed back into the earth.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

His teasing tone had you pulling away, glaring playfully at him before turning and pretending to walk away, leaving him in your path.

At least, until you heard a rustling in the long grass inside the fence.

You squeaked as it grew closer taking a step back as your harsh gaze followed the rustling of the grass, positive a snake would wrap itself around your leg as it dug its venomous fangs into your soft flesh.

Needless to say, you were in for quite a shock when the small head of a brown and white calf popped up from the grass.

And you were sinking to your knees.

The calf moved toward your lowered body, sniffing at your arms until you reached out to run a hand down it’s small head and back, cooing quietly, eyes brimming with unfiltered delight as you wrapped your arms around the baby, stroking the fur of its back lovingly.

“This is Renjun. He’s my little cousin's calf.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. Your cooes of joy were enough to show every emotion you were currently feeling.

Horrible aunt or not. You could certainly find worse places to be trapped. At least here you had rolling hills of green, beautiful animals to fawn over, and Jaehyun, handsome stableboy who you couldn’t wait to get to know.

#ficscafe #klibrary #kdinernet #supermwritersnet #jaehyun x reader #nct x reader #farm au #farm living #horses #cows #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you #original character #friends to lovers #slow burn #series #nct series #jaehyun series

62 notes · View notes

joontier · 3 years

Text

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love, longing, immense pining

warnings: none to note

word count: 6.6k

g/n: HAHGFJFIE FINALLY!!!!!!!! that is all. ((also painfully and regrettably unedited)) thank you. THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR ASJDFOAWJEFI SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE?

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

“Hoseok.”

Yoongi keeps his voice low as he attempts to poke the general awake, vigorously, yet with the right amount of caution so as not to wake the naked sleeping court lady in his arms. Chaeyoung, was it? The southern king ponders on wistfully as he pulls the blanket up again to maintain the modesty in the room - if there was any left, that is.

The young king of the south had already sensed the tension between the pair when they were first acquainted with each other. Yoongi, not a stranger to the wants of the flesh, already knew this was coming. If it only weren’t for the places they hold in the palace, they would have made a great couple.

Surely though, the two were old enough to know that clothes were still warranted even after what Yoongi could only assume to have been a steamy evening between the two. It wasn’t appropriate to just go sleeping in the nude especially when one could easily barge in at any time of the day, just as Yoongi had done.

The blonde-haired king continues poking at the general by the ribs, cursing when the latter won’t respond and instead rolls over to the other side, pulling Chaeyoung closer in his arms.

Good heavens. Why does this have to be so hard?

For one, he’d already wasted time this morning trying to locate Hoseok, who he reckons no longer enjoys sleeping in his own quarters; finding more comfort in the danger that lies with sleeping in the court ladies’ quarters instead. He makes a mental note to address this to Hoseok later as this was going to be a major headache later on.

Should this relationship of theirs proceed with its imminent direction, not only the general will be facing the grave consequences of their actions, but the poor court lady will have to take responsibility as well.

“Hoseok.” The young king of the south nudges him once more, this time stronger than the last. Yoongi hears the general groan in response, and lets himself sit back against the wall in relief. At least this reaction was better than the log he was trying to wake just moments ago.

That is, until he realizes he spoke too soon.

Hoseok rolls over and proceeds to lie on his stomach. Yoongi cards his fingers through his temple, jaw clenched as he tries to figure out a more effective way to get the general up on his feet.

He spots a vessel on top of Chaeyoung’s dresser, and Yoongi smirks as an unorthodox idea of waking up someone pops in his head. Quietly creeping up from the floor, he grabs the clay container by its neck and tilts the vessel, pouring the water onto Hoseok’s bare back. This ought to do the job. Just as expected, the liquid had the southern general scrambling to his feet.

Squinting his eyes as he looks around, Hoseok comes face to face with his king, eyes trained on him like a tiger waiting on his prey. Hoseok immediately sits up, cowering under the king’s daunting gaze, “M-my king…”

Yoongi promptly gets up, not wanting to bother himself with another look at Hoseok’s naked form. “Get up. Meet me by the stables,” the king orders, sliding the door open, “and next time, please maintain some dignity and remember to put clothes on before sleeping.”

The general clambers from the court lady’s yo, taking his discarded clothes by the corner of the room as the southern king heads to the stables first.

“Did she really knock you out that bad that you were harder to wake than a sleeping cow?”

Even at dawn when the sun hasn’t risen yet, Yoongi sees the general blush under the sky’s soft shade of purple. “If I could say so for myself, she was quite flexible, your Highness…” Hoseok whispers shyly as he chews on his lip. Yoongi’s mouth falls agape at his general’s confession, grimacing at the awful mental images it brought to his mind this early in the morning.

“General.” Hoseok straightens himself atop his steed, knowing that the king meant business when he calls him by his official title. “You should know that what I had said was a question I needed not answered.”

“My apologies, my King.” Hoseok says, expression unchanging when he whispers under his breath. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s getting frisky with the women of the palace.” Yoongi’s eyes narrow as he glares at the general, guiding his horse nearer to Hoseok’s, seemingly taunting the latter to say more. “Ah yes,” the general gets the message and bows, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the small smirk playing on the younger man’s lips, “this is the part where I keep my mouth shut.”

Bored out of his wits (and disrupted from his very lovely sleep), the general turns to his king, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, jeonha, but where exactly are we headed to at this time of the day?”

“We’re already here.” Hoseok, with his question answered in the most unexpected manner, gives an awkward nod as a reply to the southern king. He studies the place where Yoongi had led him to in this early morning and in recognition, his would seemingly winces at him as he remembers the day they’ve faced death in the eyes, and luckily got away with it.

In subconscious reminiscence, Yoongi flexes his shoulders, a short tinge of pain stings through the breadth of his back. Hoseok, in similar thought, does the same, reaching over to his side to feel the slowly healing wound.

The small clearing was not as ghastly as it had been when they had first arrived at this part of the forest. The previously horrific scenery was no more; the doltap shrine, formerly made from dead bodies toppled over each other was now replaced by actual rocks and other mementos of the deceased.

Yoongi dismounts from his horse, a small cloud of dust appearing as he lands on the ground. Just like that, he’s taken back to the same night he’d met Seokjin – the same night he and Hoseok had narrowly escaped the hands of death. The southern king closes his eyes, reliving the scene like it was just yesterday.

“Forgive me, jeonha, but why are we here? If I should say so myself, my king, we we’re lucky enough to get away last time…if we stay here any longer, I’m not particularly sure what or who could be waiting for us this time.”

“We have to look for something.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure too. Just… I don’t think Seokjin is dead yet.”

Hoseok looks at him, worry painting all over his features. Yoongi had never concerned himself with the capitol, all the more with its king. The southern general couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet, but he is sure that there is a missing piece of the puzzle he has yet to discover. It won’t be long before he does.

Jungkook watches you from the shade of another nearby tree, indulging himself with an apple he picked earlier on the way to the gardens. You’ve just finished teaching five new characters to the class, and as a reward for their exemplary behavior, you decided to treat them with a story – one you’re telling with such animation right now.

He joins the children in laughter when you imitate a creature: an elephant, he reckons, though he’s never seen one in real life. Subsequently, you use your arm as a trunk and even start to make the strangest sounds to mimic the animal. Peels of the sound of amusement resonate throughout the open space. Even the court ladies you’d initially came with join soon afterwards, making their best impressions of different animals.

The sight was most endearing. You’re a natural when it comes to children, Jungkook attests to himself. You were patient, caring, and kind – all the traits of a good mother already inherent in you. It was no question that you child will grow up to be just as wonderful as you are.

Being a widow though? Not so much.

Despite the bountiful radiance brought about by these children, he could still see the sadness in your eyes. Gone are your usually bright orbs, mirth and brilliance swimming freely in your pupils.

It’s only been a week since the news of Seokjin’s passing and the announcement of your pregnancy. You’d maintained your cheeriness but Jungkook fears it all might have been just a façade because your smiles never reached your eyes unlike before.

Jungkook knew you were strong. Even the whole palace would agree on that fact. You were stronger than anyone could ever admit and you were far stronger than you think you were. It was a trait of yours that even only the bravest could only hope to be bestowed with. Your resilience was one of your many characteristics that Jungkook admired so much.

But at the same time, he fears this mask of courage you put on was going to be the same thing that was going to destroy you slowly from the inside.

Jungkook understood where you were coming from. Truly, he did. He’s dealt with enough royals all his life to know that a simple display of weakness could be perceived for something far greater than it is. Royals are groomed and nurtured to perfection from the moment they are born, and in their lifetime, they are only afforded a specific set of standards they had to live by strictly, else they lose the respect of the council and subsequently, their people.

It was madness at the least, to think that royals are supposed to be as stiff as their forefathers now commemorated by figures made of stone or some precious mineral. How strangely ironic.

Crown aside, you are but a human being, a woman, who had just lost her husband, and is now burdened with having to deal with your pregnancy alone. On top of all the responsibilities of a queen, including those of which Seokjin had left you.

Jungkook knew he was a mere soldier in your eyes, but he wanted to help you in the hopes to alleviate the pain you were going through; he wanted you to know that he feels your pain and he knows the suffering of one who has likewise lost a loved one.

He knows you’re constantly pre-occupying yourself with these things, always looking for a distraction to forget your personal sentiments. Jungkook could only imagine what struggles you’re going through right now and how badly he wishes he could hold you in his arms and tell you it’s going to be alright and he’s going to be there for you no matter what.

“Jungkook? Captain?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet as he sees you looking down on him as he rested by the bark of the tree. “Jungjeon-mama!”

Chuckling, you remove a stray leaf that stuck itself to his pants. Jungkook’s heart flutters at the small gesture. “Are you alright, captain? I’ve been calling for you but you seem busy staring off into the distance…” He gulps.

“Alright. Will you accompany me to the doltap shrine then?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Just like before, the two of you walk in comfortable silence, although the captain beside you looks more tense than ever. “Jungkook. Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re unwell, I can just go on my own. You can head back to your quarters.”

The captain quickly shakes his head, but when you meet his eyes, there’s a heavy weight in his stare that you wish to mention, but you don’t want to push his boundaries any further, especially when the two of you had been closer than any of you would have imagined.

You look away as you reach the top of the tiny slope, the dock finally in view. Jungkook immediately offers his elbow for your support, and you place a hand on the same with much gratitude.

He steps into the tiny boat first, readying the oars where he can reach them easily for later. Extending a hand out, he beckons you over to the canoe. Due to an unknown factor, you miss the gap between the boat and the dock, tripping slightly as you get inside. “Mama! Our– the baby!” You laugh at your own clumsiness before placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine! I’m fine… stop acting like I’m a porcelain doll…” you joke, settling yourself on the seat.

“I’m just concerned about your well-being,” Jungkook mumbles, not meeting your eyes as he fixes the oars with a pout on his face. What a big baby. Gently, you put a hand on his knee, urging him to look at you, “I know,” you give him a warm smile, “and I’m very thankful to have you nearby all the time.”

It was the whole truth. Ever since Minho came barging in with your husband’s clothes and until the announcement of your pregnancy with the council, Jungkook has always been there. Since then, you’d opted to stay inside your hanok most of the day, unless you had to come out for your official duties.

He’d always be there, waiting outside your hanok as you’re about to leave for your responsibilities. You’d even suggested having Yunho come with you instead but the stubborn captain insisted, telling you it is his greatest honor to be your personal guard.

The boat pushes forward and you tilt your head back slightly, enjoying the cool, crisp air. “It’s a beautiful day today isn’t it?”. Jungkook smiles this time, “Certainly, wangbi.”

You decide to leave the shrine late in the afternoon as Jungkook wasn’t able to bring a lamp with him. The sky is becoming a lovely purple, and as the captain manages to safely bring you both back across the river, you make your final request of the day from him. “Why don’t we sit here a while longer? Enjoy the sunset perhaps?” You’re already patting the grass beside you, leaving Jungkook no choice.

Jungkook finally gathers up the courage to ask you this time, “How about you, Mama? Are you alright?” Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of response to expect but he hopes that you will be able to recognize the true depth of his sudden inquiry.

You don’t answer at first. It seemed as if you were trying to gather your thoughts before you reply. “I’m alright,” you retort with a smile. There it is again – the ingenuine grin. “Taehyung had just visited me yesterday to recommend meals I could have prepared that will give me and the baby enough nutrition.”

Right, you were also pregnant. He almost forgot that for a moment. That was another reason he couldn’t sleep at night – could he possibly be a fath-

“How I wish my child’s father was still here to witness him or her grow up.”

Oh. Right. Jungkook chokes back a sob.

This was only one of the many times he’d realized he’d been a fool all along, but this realization had been the most painful yet.

Just as if on cue, Jungkook feels something cold hit his cheek from above. There’s a grey cloud reigning over them, like it’s giving a warning signal of the storm that’s about to come.

He turns to you, worry apparent in his features once more. “Mama, we have to go back!” Just then, there’s a downpour of water, evidently drenching you both. He extends his arm out, even offering you a ride back home on his back. You stand up on your own though, but you don’t take his hand, nor did you follow him back to the palace.

“Mama?”

“Let’s stay for a little while longer.”

“But you might catch a cold, mama.”

“Since when was a cold fatal?” The smile on your face is almost devilish and Jungkook finds himself powerless to say no. “Come on!” you urge, clapping excitedly. “When was the last time you played under the rain?”

“When I was a kid?”

“All the more reason to have fun then!”

The last time he purposefully stayed under the rain was with you, and he promised himself that he would never do it again if you weren’t going to be with him.

You were both young and your rendezvous at the southern forest were nothing short of cherished moments. There were days when the downpour was ultimately unavoidable, especially when you’re playing in the middle of the forest. Rain hadn’t stopped you both from meeting nonetheless. There were also days when he just waited at your designated meeting place, only accompanied by the angry clouds while his body shivered from the cold.

When the years had passed by, Jungkook didn’t find anything enjoyable with staying under the rain so he stayed indoors most of the time, unless it was part of his official duties. Besides, everything else seemed to lose its purpose if you weren’t in it.

Life for him was a storm he was waiting to pass, but since he’d met you that day in the forest all muddy, he learned that life was about learning how to dance in the rain. Ironically enough, you were also the sun that brought light to his life, providing him with enough energy to last for centuries.

You feel something by your feet, prompting you to jump into Jungkook’s arms in fright. The captain gets surprised by your actions, causing him to almost lose his footing. Jungkook looks down to see any damage and sees a brown slimy creature camouflaging with the grass, “Mama, it’s just a frog…”

You frown adorably, giving him a hard time with an irresistible pout. How he wishes he could just kiss you right now. “I’m not particularly fond of these creatures…” You gasp when another one croaks, tightening your grip around the captain’s arms. Jungkook’s mouth twitches in silent celebration at your touch. He may or may not have flexed his muscles too on purpose – but that was most likely a primary instinct when the woman of your dreams encourages physical contact, albeit subconsciously.

Jungkook’s jubilation is cut short when more frogs start to appear out of nowhere, causing you to squeeze even tighter, your grip bordering on pain. For some unknown, you’ve managed to latch on his back with your constant avoidance of the tiny, slimy creatures. “Jung!” you shout, now relentlessly slapping his arm; Jungkook huffs - so much for his fantasies. “We have to get out of here Jungkook!!”

The quick-witted captain crouches low enough, telling you to jump on his back. He didn’t need to actually tell you though, because the moment he’d turned around you already had your hands hooked over his shoulders, trying to get him to hurry. Because of all the movements and the noise, the frogs share the same level of alarm as you – one even manages to fasten itself on your shoe. You flail your foot about, subsequently making it fly about a few feet away and thus, making Jungkook burst into laughter.

He remembers the time he’d surprised you with a frog inside a box in front of the whole class, and now you’d managed to get a whole army of frogs chasing you both. It was a living nightmare – for you at least, Jungkook on the contrary though, is positive that he’s having the time of his life watching frogs terrify you.

Just as expected, Jungkook loses his breath from laughter, setting you down gently as you go over the slope. You’re a little bit too hesitant to let go though, that even when Jungkook has turned to face you, you’re still clinging onto his jeogori as if your life depended on it. It’s a relief when he hears you giggle in his chest, assuring him that you were no longer frightened.

Only silence remained as the laughter dies down. There’s the muted croaking of the frogs in the distance, but other than that, you’re left standing in his arms, quiet as ever. “Is it alright if I hold you like this for a while?”

Your sudden request throws the captain off guard. He’s powerless to say no, not when this is the moment he’d been waiting and imagining for years. “Can we just stay like this for a moment longer, Mama?” His voice almost breaks, pleading at the least.

“Of course, Jungkook.”

It seems like a hug is what you both just need.

Just as the rain pours over them, Jungkook feels his own tears rolling down hotly against his cheeks, contrasting the cold droplets of rainwater. His heart hurts. He’s crying.

Actually, you both are.

You find Yoongi lounging extremely close by the doors of your hanok two days later.

The proximity of the southern king startles you and as a gust of wind blows by, some of his bright yellowish hair fly straight into your mouth, “Yoongi!” He fumbles as he pushes his hair back over his shoulder. “Apologies my queen.” There are at least two strands left in your face and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to reach out his hand, taking out the strands with such tenderness, shivering when you feel the cold pads of his fingers against your cheek.

It takes you a moment before you realize what’s happening and you pull away, turning on your heel. “What are you doing here anyways?” you ask, sliding your doors close. You’re meant to wake a lot earlier than you did today and if you don’t hurry, you might just miss your music class with the village kids.

Yoongi hurries after you, trying to keep up with your pace, “I was…um…wondering if I could come to your class today?”

“You?” you think out loud, not sparing him a glance. You don’t put much thought to it with your haste to make it in time, and you tell him he’s free to do whatever he wants. He doesn’t say anything else after that, so you quicken your pace towards the palace gardens.

You reach the reserved spot in no time, with the children already settled in, chatting and playing among themselves. Just as you’d requested the night prior, your gayageum has been assembled just underneath the oak tree.

“Jungjeon-mama, who is that ahjussi behind you?” Turning to see who the child was pertaining to, you come to see Yoongi standing behind you, seemingly offended at how he’d been perceived to be way older than he actually is.

“Ahjussi?!” Yoongi exclaims, face twisted into a grimace, “Who are you calling ahjussi, kid?”

The children are taken aback by the tone of his voice, unaware that he hadn’t taken any offense with the child’s question. The poor boy’s lips quiver in fear. You give the southern king a quick glare before calling the boy over and letting him sit on your lap. While Yoongi approaches the both of you with a softened gaze, the boy nuzzles his head by the crook of your neck, murmuring his fright over the man’s temper.

“Hey little bud,” Yoongi crouches, tapping the boy’s shoulder twice to get the latter to face him. The boy peeks slowly from your neck, eyeing the blonde-haired man warily. “I’m sorry about earlier son. I was just surprised because no one had ever called me that –“

He wasn’t actually going to explain it is he? You clear your throat, interrupting him. Yoongi’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Right. Say, could you tell me your name?”

“It’s Jinseo.”

“Hello, Jinseo. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Yoongi. Could I make it up to you by playing a song?”

Jinseo paused, head titled slightly to the right as if in deep thought. “It isn’t mine to give you permission. You should ask Mama,” he says smartly, pointing at you. Kids are getting smarter these days.

“Jungjeon-mama?” Yoongi asks with an expectant look. With the other children following suit, you are left with no other choice but to say yes. Reluctantly, you lift yourself up together with Jinseo and taking a spot next to the other children.

“Let me just try to…” Yoongi adjusts himself on the seat, plucking the strings in an uncoordinated manner, “remember…” All of a sudden, he claps like he’d just produced gold from thin air, startling everyone around. “I got it! I got it now, don’t worry.”

You and Jinseo share a look.

If there was any discipline of the arts you could take pride for in yourself, it would have been music. Your father, King Daesin of the south, aside from occasionally practicing medicine, also had the ear for music. He had taught you how to play the gayageum, an instrument you’ve been acquainted with for as long as you could remember. Because of fair years of playing, you could freely boast to anyone that you’re quite exceptional at it, but now with Yoongi and his hands on your beloved instrument... Yoongi was tremendously better at it than you probably ever will be.

A smile creeps onto your face when you realize his acting earlier, pretending to be a beginner with the instrument when he could totally be mistaken for a musical prodigy. What a humble bragger. Yoongi had his eyes closed, pouring his emotion and soul onto the instrument, and even without having to enunciate lyrics to get the message across, it was clear to everyone that the song conveyed sadness in all forms. Each vibration of the string – every sound it made spoke in volumes, moving everyone present in class. By the time he’d finished, all the children were as silent as mice, rigid as statues. This was the first time you’ve seen them all well-behaved.

It also dawns on you that this was the first time any of you were deeply moved by music.

The rest of the class stay silent moments later, all in deep contemplation despite the differences in your ages. From your side, you hear a child sigh to the girl in front of her, “I came to class happy this morning. Now I’m sad.” All of a sudden, Jinseo scrambles out of your lap and rushes to Yoongi, hugging the older man’s side in an awkward manner. Yoongi is caught off guard by the gesture, patting the little boy’s head in a similarly awkward manner.

“Ahjussi,” Jinseo calls once more, maintaining his hold on Yoongi’s waist. The southern king heaves a deep sigh, knowing he’s going to have to deal with that a lot longer than he intended to be. “Why are you sad? You played sad music for us. Now we’re all sad too.” Yoongi is rendered speechless and looks at you with wide eyes, seeking for your help. “Uh...Jinseo, why don’t you ask your Yoongi-hyungnim to play us a happy song then?”

“A happy song!” Sheepishly, Yoongi cheers, clapping his hands in an attempt to get everyone back in high spirits. Thankfully, the children seem to enjoy the idea, so they goad the ahjussi on, wanting to see if he’s just as talented with cheery songs as he is with sorrowful ones.

With a small smile, Yoongi mouths a ‘thank you’ in your direction before placing his hands on the gayageum once more.

“Thank you for saving me a few times earlier during your class,” the southern king says, leaning towards you while he mimics your movements as you wave goodbye to the children. “You haven’t had much experience with children, haven’t you?” you raise a brow at him while a laugh escapes your lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Yoongi replies, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good practice though, what you did earlier. One day, you’re going to be a father as well.”

Yoongi eyes you slowly from the side, checking if you realize the gravity of your words. His eyes lower down to your stomach, imagining if the baby growing inside of it was his own blood. Perhaps it was? Perhaps it wasn’t?

He’d been especially concerned about your well-being since last week when shocking news had been continuously delivered right to your arms. He wanted to approach you badly during those rough days, but you were far too pre-occupied to even spare him a second glance. The young king wonders how much of a difficulty it might be for you, but all he wanted was to show you that he was willing to support you in any way that he can.

Yoongi sees Hoseok approach with the jumeoni he’d personally prepared early in the morning. He sees his brother trail not far behind, studying the silk bag in Hoseok’s hands. The southern king had been nervous since last night, continuously practicing his lines to the point where he’s not sure why he’s doing it in the first place. It’s now or never.

“Jungjeon-mama?”

Yoongi winces inwardly as he hears his own voice wavering. Heavens. Why was he so nervous around you? You turn to him with a warm smile. Ah yes – that’s why.

“May I invite you for a walk?” The southern king asks as he beckons his general over who hands him the silk bag. “And lunch perhaps?”

You pause for a moment, recalling your thoughts if you had anything else planned after your music class with the children. Yoongi tries hard to not show too much excitement when he hears your yes. Extending his arm out, he motions for you to walk with him. He feels Jungkook follow you both, and he leans to your side a little, whispering, “I was wondering if we could perhaps…go alone?”

You look at him, as if studying his facial expressions. Turning around, you tell Jungkook to stay put. The captain’s eyes dart back and forth, giving his own older brother a steely gaze before nodding his head and bowing to you. “Don’t worry captain. I’ll scream loudly if anything bad happens,” you tell him as a reassurance.

“In all seriousness, Mama…” Yoongi says, putting on a stern face, even though you are both experiencing clear difficulty with keeping a straight face after hearing Yoongi’s stories. “…do I seriously look like an ahjussi to you?”

You place a hand over your mouth, ineffectively hiding your giggles. Yoongi grimaces, clutching his chest to express his hurt over your reaction. “We can’t blame the kids though. And besides, Jinseo had a valid point.” The young king gives you a playful glare.

Yoongi had been expressing his sentiments over the whole ‘ahjussi’ situation earlier, arguing that he didn’t have enough wrinkles on his face to be even considered one. In Jinseo’s earlier defense though, he stated that only old people had white hair, and if he wasn’t old – why would he even have white hair in the first place. To which, of course, an agitated Yoongi replies: “It’s not white. It’s yellow…ish. And it’s bleach! It’s something I discovered during an overseas travel! A lot of people have this kind of hair color…”

“How are you feeling? Is your pregnancy going well?”

“How did you know about my pregnancy?” Yoongi shrugs as he replies, “Walls are never thick enough to hide news like that.” “Oh.” ‘Oh’ is an appropriate reaction, Yoongi reckons, as he’s had the same sort of response when he’d heard of the news.

“Well, for one, our royal physician Taehyung had scheduled regular visits to keep my condition in check. So there’s that. He advises that as long as keep a stress-free environment, my pregnancy will be just fine.”

Using your chopsticks, you fiddle with the mandu he’s made hours prior, deep in thought as you stare into the distance.

Yoongi hopes that the apparent death of your husband isn’t conducive of stress of a stress-free environment. He makes an inward scoff – as if that’s most likely going to happen. If he’s already thorned by occurrences that seem insignificant to those of the capitol’s then he could only imagine the sort of struggle you have to go through, especially when the backbone of your government is composed of vile men who are strongly displeased by the thought of having a woman on the throne.

The young man lies on his back, stretching out his legs to get rid of the tingling on his soles due to their prolonged sitting. With a long exhale, he closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift along with the steady breeze.

He knows he’s neglecting his duties as the king of the south by prolonging his stay here, but Seokjin’s death won't settle with him nicely. He has to get to the bottom of this. Even if he’s still holding a grudge against Seokjin for taking you away from the south (and had even secretly wished him dead at some point) he could never plunge a sword to another king, much more to the same one who had taken care of the woman he wanted to call his wife.

He hears rustling from your side, and Yoongi opens his eyes a little to check on you. He watches you clean the bowls and reorganize them back onto the bag he’d brought. You slowly start to turn to face him and Yoongi quickly shuts his eyes, solely relying on his other sense to figure out what’s happening.

“Oh? You must’ve fallen asleep huh?” Yoongi hears more rustling around. “Maybe you could still listen to me even during slumber…” You inhale deeply, “You know…Seokjin was always good with children.”

Yes. Of course, speaking of the spirit.

“Jinseo was one of his favorite students. Jinseo was actually really shy and quiet at first – yet for some inexplicable reason, Seokjin had successfully helped him to come out of his shell and the little boy has been brighter since. Seokjin was always so playful yet so gentle at the same time that whenever he’d visit our classes the children would go crazy over him.”

Well, that’s nice to hear, especially when he’d made a particularly bad first impression with the children earlier.

There’s momentary silence. Yoongi hears a sniff – and a shaky exhale afterwards.

“I miss him Yoongi.” Another sniff. “I miss him so much that it hurts every day. Everything reminds me of him.” The sound of your silent crying rings throughout his ears, yet he can't bring himself to get up and wipe them away, fearing it might cause you to stop pouring your heart out.

Mourning was part of healing. You’d feel lighter after crying. At least that’s what he’d learned from having lost his mother too.

At the same time, Yoongi feels his chest constrict at your words. While you pour your fears out to his sleeping form, he struggles with maintaining a stoic face to keep his act up. His empathy is fighting to register in his features, and when he can no longer hold it in, he turns his back to you, swallowing back his emotions that threaten to pour out after years of hiding.

“Jeonha, I can't seem to find any sign of him anywhere.”

Hoseok slowly and carefully gets back up from his crouching position, groaning in relief as he hears his joints cracking as he twists his torso from side to side. Yoongi does the same, shaking his legs one at a time to get rid of the numbness.

It’s been a few hours since they’ve arrived and Yoongi is getting more hopeless with every passing moment. They have searched everywhere for anything – any sign that he’s still alive.

He’d promised you he’d find your husband and bring him back. Even though you hadn’t exactly heard the silent vow of the southern king, he was a man of his word and he’ll be sure to do everything in his capacity to do it.

Yoongi couldn’t even find the reason why he was going to do it or why he should do it in the first place – whether it be for his own peace of mind, for your happiness, or for the future of the country.

He knew they’d left Seokjin that night and the chances that his fellow ruler was still alive was almost slim to none. He knows that trying to look for a clue and actually succeeding was going to be a long shot, especially when it has already been quite some time Yoongi had returned this morning to make sure but after hours of looking, the place was clean and empty, thus pushing down that gut feeling that maybe, just maybe, your husband was still alive.

Else he’d be forced to prolong his stay and resort to more meddling to protect you from harm.

They’ve already gone through this area, Yoongi thinks, recognizing the same stump he’d seen earlier. He settles himself on the tree remainder and picks up a fallen leaf. Just then, something glimmers from the ground and the curious king bends over once more, picking it up. It’s a bracelet.

Yoongi scoffs to himself: an even more shocking discovery. It’s not just any bracelet – it’s the kind of bracelet only royals can have. And if that isn’t the most astounding part of it yet, etched in the gold pendant is the emblem of the south.

Besides you, there could only be one other person who’d be wearing the same. If he’s still alive that is.

The man’s wife places a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, massaging them gently to ease the tension on his muscles. She’s never seen him his distraught since…since they left their previous home. Eunkyung is unsure how to give her husband the least solace, not when the circumstances only allow them to hope for the best.

For a moment, they stay like that, quiet and observant. In fact, they had been for almost a full moon, just watching the man they had taken into their home. The man had been looking for firewood that early morning, and he’d found this severely wounded man barely alive in the woods.

He’d carried the man on his back and hurried back home, his initial quest and the pains that came with old age completely forgotten. He had closed off one of his rooms reserved for his patients to tend to this not-so-stranger and had let his wife tend to his other patients while he carefully worked this man back to life for weeks.

“Do you think he will still wake?”

The man is unable to answer promptly as he tenderly takes the sick man’s hand in his and says a short prayer to his ancestors, as well as incorporating a lesson he’d learned back when he was still an apprentice – that human touch was an integral part of the art of medicinal healing.

The physician faces his wife and pulls her closer, likewise placing her hand on top of his and letting her join in his silent prayer. His thumb runs over the ring on the man’s finger, remembering a similar one of his own possession quite a few years back.

“He will. That is what I believe and that is what we are also praying for,” the man replies, checking the temperature of the cloth he’d laid on his patient’s forehead. It’s warm when he takes it, and he makes a mental note to cite this observation in his notes.

“Daesin,” Eunkyung calls, touching her husband’s now bare wrists, “your bracelet…where is it?”

The man sighs heavily, deflated as he rests his weight on his calves. “I…I don’t know, really. I must have lost it when I carried him home.”

It was the only thing reminding him of his past, of you, especially. Now it’s gone – but it really doesn’t matter anymore, not when something, or someone else rather had come into his life so easily. His patient was far more important than any bracelet that proved his previous rule over the southern city.

“I really hope he will get better soon.”

“He has to,” Daesin reiterates, hoping they’d eventually come true, “He has to get better because he’s my son-in-law.”

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Riding High

Ch1:Jodhpurs And Jeans

Chapter Summary: After a passing comment from his well-meaning neighbour, land-lady and friend, Frank decides that before he enrols her into school Mary needs to learn some social skills and pick up a hobby to help her interact with kids her own age.

Mary decides she wants to learn how to ride…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: So yeah, this one’s been buzzing in my head for AGES now. As you all know, I’m a Brit so I’m REALLY sorry if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. As means of an explanation in the UK we have 3 main types of stables. We have Riding Schools (which focus solely on providing riding lessons), Livery Yards (which are places where owners board their horses) and Equestrian Centres (which do both). After a bit of research it seems that EC also translates across the pond and means the same thing so…just bear with me on this and run with it!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

August 2017

“I’m holding you solely responsible for this.” Frank shot Roberta a glare as Mary bounced over to the truck, her blonde hair swinging slightly as she skipped.

“All I said was that it might be useful to have her interact with kids her own age before you throw her into a school, which for the record, I still think is a dumbass idea Frank.” “Input noted and duly ignored…” Frank rolled his eyes “She needs to go to school. Have some kind of variant on a normal childhood.”

Roberta took a deep breath and simply shrugged “On your head be it.”

“Come on Frank!” Mary shouted, standing up on the ledge of the truck “we’re gonna be late!”

“It’s 20 minutes tops to Pinellas Park…” Frank looked at her “We got half an hour, chill out Stack”

“My name’s Mary not Short Stack…” she sing songed back.

“Don’t I know it…” Frank said, looking at her before he turned back to Roberta “I’ll see you later.”

“Hmmm” she nodded, and with that he rolled his eyes again and headed to the truck.

“You know you’re not actually gonna get to ride anything today right?” he asked, turning to his niece.

“No, but I’m still gonna see the ponies.” she said, smiling. “Why can’t we bring Fred?”

“Because a horse might step on him.” Frank shrugged, before he paused. “Actually, shall we take him?” Mary narrowed her eyes at him “That’s mean.” He chuckled, ruffled her hair and started up the truck. **** “Ok, now soften your outside hand…” Fliss called out across the paddock, as the woman riding the tall, black warmblood circled her “Yeah, you feel that. He’s taking the contact now, not leaning against your hand. So when you feel that softening, that’s when you need to push with your inside leg…and if is he isn’t listening a soft tap up with the stick…” She watched again from behind her Oakley wraparounds, smiling as the horse extended nicely down the long side of the school.

“Yeah, there you go!” she shouted encouragingly, “Now bring him round again and this time at the corner, pop him into canter…” She took a quick glance at her watch. She was running slightly behind, but what else was new? She would never leave a lesson, regardless, until her client had achieved something, even if it was what they dubbed a small victory. End on a high was her motto, and this was no different. Ever since Lucy had brought Captain out of his stable, Fliss could see the horse was in one of his awkward moods so she’d had to switch out her plan a little. It had worked and he’d settled after about 15 minutes of being an obstinate shit and he was working quite nicely.

“Good!” She shouted, pacing slightly “Now let’s see if we can extend this a little…” Lucy sat up tall, pushed through her legs and the horse bounded down the side. Fliss grinned, less than 6 months ago Lucy hadn’t even been able to keep the horse in a trot, now here she was producing an extended canter. Moments like this made her job so worthwhile…

“Ok, bring him back down…” she said, “And into trot…and walk…”

Fliss headed over to her client and smiled as she walked alongside her “That was really good Luce…you happy?” “I’m over the moon!” The teenager grinned “I can’t believe it…he went so well!”

“Yeah because you rode him well.” Fliss smiled “You know, I seriously think you should consider a Dressage Competition.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do. I know you don’t have a horse of your own but you can borrow Cap if you want…have a think about it.” “I will, thanks Fliss.”

Fliss smiled, gave the horse a pat and headed back to the gate.

“Joanne?” she called, and one of her grooms appeared. “Can you just supervise Lucy cooling him off. I’ve got someone bringing their daughter in at 11 am that should be here any time soon.”

“Sure.” Joanne nodded “Oh, they back barn has been mucked out but I’ve not had chance to scrub the water buckets out.” “It’s ok, you can do it after lunch” Fliss nodded. “the automatics are getting installed in a month or so which should make it a little easier.”

She patted Joanne on the shoulder and made her way into the office. Reaching for a file she dug out a Registration Form and a Liability Waiver and set them on the desk before she took a quick glance in the mirror. Satisfied that her auburn hair was tamed and there was no hay stick in it she nodded to herself and walked back on the yard, just in time to see a tall, well build dark haired man desperately trying to control a blonde haired girl who was looking around in glee and pointing.

“Hi…” she walked over, momentarily stuck by how damned good looking this guy was. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt which perfectly accentuated his tone upper body. His chiselled jawline which was covered in a short, stubbled beard, soft spikey dark hair, and he flashed her a smile that made the corners of his aviator covered eyes crinkle. A smile that made her clear her throat. “I’m Fliss, you must be Mr Adler.”

Frank looked at the woman in front of him, glad that his glasses hid the fact he was blatantly eyeing her up and down. Dressed in a pair of long riding boots, tight navy blue jodhpurs with a white belt around the top, and a tight pink polo shirt he could see every curve she possessed. But it was the smile she flashed him that made him feel like some kind of teenage school kid again. “Frank, please.” “Nice to meet you Frank.” Fliss smiled, noting how deep his voice sounded, it was much more gravelly than on the phone and there was a Boston twang to his accent. She shook his hand, his palm and fingertips slightly calloused against her skin, and then turned to Mary “And what can I call you Miss?” “Mary.” the little girl infomed her, looking up “Are all these horses yours?”

Fliss chuckled. “No not all of them. Eight belong to me. Two are my personal ones, then I have 6 that work in the riding school and the other six are boarders.” “Oh.” Mary pondered, looking around. “So which one can I ride?” “Mary…” Frank chastised her softly as he looked down at her, before glancing back at Fliss “Sorry, she’s excited.” Fliss laughed and shook her head “It’s fine, I love to see it.”

She turned to Mary and then in an exaggerated whisper so that Frank could here said “I’ll let you into a secret, I always put the new kids on Monty because he’s awesome and looks after everyone and he especially likes girls. He’s a ladies man. You wanna meet him?” Mary nodded eagerly and Fliss looked up at Frank, seeking his permission. He nodded and gestured with his head and she straightened up before leading Mary across the yard to the barn on the opposite side.

Frank stayed where he was for a moment, watching her ass as she walked before he mentally slapped himself and followed.

Fliss led them both into the airy barn, pushing up her sunglasses and down to 2 of the smaller stables at the far end. She stopped at one that contained a small, grey pony who gave a little nicker and stuck his head over the door.

“Monty, meet Mary.” she said with a smile as Mary gently reached up to stroke the pony’s soft nose.

“He’s really pretty.” Mary nodded, appraisingly.

“Yeah he’s awesome.” Fliss smiled, “And he’s a good boy too.” “Can I go in the stable?” Mary asked.

“Erm… if your dad says it’s ok?” Fliss looked at Frank who was tucking his sunglasses down the front of his shirt.

“I’m not her dad.” Frank shook his head “I’m her uncle.” “Oh, sorry.” Fliss frowned “I just assumed.”

“I get it a lot.” he waved her apology away “But I am her legal guardian so…”

Fliss nodded, studying him for a moment. There was clearly a bit more to that story but it wasn’t her business to pry.

“Can I?” Mary looked at him and he nodded.

“Ok so, Monty is really good and nothing scares him but with all horses you should always be quiet and not jump or shout.” Fliss instructed and Frank had to smile as Mary nodded seriously. He hadn’t seen her this engrossed in anything other than books for a long time. Maybe Roberta had been right.

Fliss unbolted the stable door and walked in, leading Mary in after her. She showed her where he liked to be scratched and Mary giggled as she rubbed at the spot on the pony’s withers and he began to tilt his head to the side, lips moving against Fliss’s arm as he nuzzled into her.

“What’s he doing?” Mary asked.

“It’s called grooming.” Fliss explained “So he is mimicking what you’re doing to him by doing it to me, see? It’s how they show affection in the wild. Sometimes they can get a bit carried away and they nip but they don’t mean to be nasty or bite.”

She looked over to Frank, keeping one eye on the small girl who was engrossed in petting Monty and looked at him “So, are you just after her learning to ride then or…” Frank nodded “It’s a long story but, she needs a hobby and this was the only thing that seemed to get her excited. Of course it would be the one that will milk me dry.” he raised his voice a little.

“Spend less money on beer when you go out tonight” she shot back, and Fliss gave a loud bark of a laugh as Frank, shook his head.

“See what I gotta put up with?” he snorted.

“You should talk to my dad about it.” She grinned. “I bled him dry due to horses as a kid, especially when I was up and down the UK competing!” “I was gonna say your accent isn’t local.” He said, smiling.

“Neither is yours.” she shot back “Boston, am I right?” He cocked his head, momentarily surprised. He didn’t think his accent was that strong considering.

“Yeah.” he nodded, “But I aint lived there in a while.” “I lived in Concorde” she explained, noticing his puzzled glance

“Huh, no kidding.” he smiled “Cambridge.” “Nice city.” Fliss smiled “I loved it.”

“What made you end up here?”

Fliss hesitated for a while. “Erm..” “Sorry, you don’t need to explain, I was just a little curious.” “No, it’s fine, just a long and complicated story.” Fliss scratched her temple “The abridged version is my marriage broke down and my mum and dad retired out here so I joined them.” She was avoiding his eyes slightly. Frank was smart enough to realise there was slightly more to it than that but he was tactful enough not to press. Besides, it was really none of his business.

“How about you? What you running from?” “What makes you think I’m running from anything?” he looked at her.

“Aren’t we all?” she looked at him, her deep brown eyes locked onto his.

He hesitated for a moment and then shrugged “Again, a long and complicated story but I wanted to give Mary a life away from hassle. And there was a lot of that in Boston.” He held her gaze and she simply nodded, before turning back to Mary.

“Ok Mary, how about we head into the office, get some forms signed and we can see about booking you in for your first lesson?” Frank watched as Fliss explained the importance of the kick-bolt on the bottom of the stable and showed her how to lock it before they three of them headed back onto the yard.

“Fliss, sorry to interrupt but do you want Cap and Bolt turned out?” a young girl with blonde hair approached them.

“Yeah, they’re not working today.” Fliss said, “But take them one at a time. Bolt’s taking to being a bit bargey. If he starts wrap the lead-rope round his nose.” “Will do.” “Thanks Jo.” she smiled, and the continued.

“What’s bargey?” Mary asked.

“Pushy.” Frank looked at her “Bossy.” “Like you?” Frank shot her a look and saw Fliss smiling to herself as she overheard.

“Or it could mean pain in the ass like you.” he shrugged. “Rude.” Mary shot back as Fliss opened the door to the office. Frank leaned over to hold it open.

“Thanks.” she looked at him smiling. He stepped in after Mary and they both stood, looking around taking it all in.

There was a large photo on the wall to the left, of someone, he presumed Fliss, on a horse jumping an obscenely high fence. On the wall at the back was a number of shelves, one containing files and the others a few more framed photos, one taken outside the gates to the yard of Fliss and a few others, he assumed her staff, and the other contained a number of trophies and a…

“Woah!” Mary said, scooting over “Is that yours?” “Sure is.” Fliss beamed, reaching up to retrieve the box frame. She led it flat on the desk and Mary scrambled up onto the chair to take a closer look.

The frame was split into two. On the right hand side was a photo of Fliss dressed in competition gear, navy jacket, red piping, white jodhs and a navy hat. She had a smile on her face that was literally ear to ear and round her neck sat the gold medal which was displayed in the left of the frame.

“London 2012…” Mary read the small plaque at the bottom “Frank, look…” “I can see.” he nodded, surprise evident in his tone. He looked at the woman “You were in the Olympics?” “Yeah.” she smiled “Only one though. Trained for years to get there…”

“Why only one?” Mary looked at her.

“Mary.” Frank groaned “Stop being nosey.” “It’s ok.” Fliss chuckled “A few months later at the World Championships later that year I had a nasty accident. I damaged my back and it took me nearly six months to recover. Sadly I lost my place on the team.” “Oh, that’s sad.” Mary looked at her.

“It’s a dog eat dog world kid.” Fliss shrugged “Not all bad though, I got into the training side of things which was great. Just my professional career didn’t work out.” There was a moments pause and Fliss replaced the photo and turned to Frank “Can I get you anything to drink?” “No, I’m good thanks.” he smiled.

“Ok, so…” Fliss said, “Mary I’m gonna need my seat back sweetie.” Mary obligingly jumped back down and Fliss took her vacated place, gesturing to the chair by the desk. Frank sat in it and Mary immediately jumped into his lap, her bare legs brushing slightly as she swung them to and fro.

“I have a few forms that you need to fill in and sign.” she said, apologetically “Legal stuff, contact details, waivers, that kind of thing. Safety is paramount at Sandybrook but, accidents to happen. Horse riding can be a dangerous sport…falls happen… as I know only too well.” Frank smiled and nodded.

“But I can give you those to take home, you can bring them with you when you come back.” Fliss reached into her desk drawer. She pulled out a glossy leaflet and opened it. “Our price list is here. I’m not a huge outfit, I don’t have more than 3 kids on a lesson at a time. Mainly because I don’t have the horses but I prefer to focus on the students, not the profit. I try to keep overheads down as much as I can to keep the costs low…”

She bit her lip, she hated this part of the job, the sales patter as her dad called it. “So it really depends on what you want to do as to how expensive it is. Group lessons are $20 for forty five minutes and individual lessons are $30 for thirty. I do always insist on an individual lesson first, but that’s discounted to $20 for the first one.” Frank nodded, it wasn’t cheap but they’d manage. He’d already explained to Mary that she wouldn’t be able to do it every week, but he could certainly stretch to once a fortnight.

“That’s reasonable.” he said after a pause.

Fliss smiled “I’ve only been open a year or so now, but I’m planning on starting up a few Own a Pony days where the kids can come down and learn how to care for the horses as well as just ride. But that’s all in the planning stages.” “Well you have a good set up.” he said, and she beamed back.

“Thank you, a lot of graft went into setting it up. My mom and dad’s retirement didn’t start out quite as quiet as they had planned!”

“I can imagine.”

“Ok,so…the real expensive outlay is gonna come at the start.” she said, turning to Mary “You’ll need some boots and a hat kiddo.” Mary grinned up at Frank.

“I do have hats I can loan for a few lessons but it is better if they have their own.” she looked at Frank. “It’s the one thing I don’t recommend getting second hand. But boots and jodhpurs etcetera you can pick up on e-bay and the like.” Frank nodded “And the hat?”

“There’s a great store not far from here…hang on…” she dug in her drawer again and produced a flier. “Here… the kid stuff is pretty reasonable to be fair, you’re probably looking at about $30 for a decent hat but they’ll help you out. If you take my brochure in you’ll get a 20% discount too.”

Mary took the flier from her and began examining it.

“That’s really it.” Fliss said, as she completed her mental check list “So all that’s left is to either book you in or you can call me…” “Please Frank!” Mary looked at him “Can we book?” Frank nodded “If you want.” “I do…” “Ok…what availability do you have?” Fliss opened the laptop and entered the diary and looked for a free spot.” “Does Wednesday at one suit?” she offered “I know once school starts you’ll probably want a weekend or evening but. whilst it’s the holidays does that work?”

Frank nodded “Yeah that’s fine. I can jiggle work around” Fliss tapped on the keyboard and smiled “All booked. If you want to leave me your number I send a text update out the night before just as a reminder.” Frank smiled, and gave out her number which she stored in the diary slot and then clicked saved “All done…guess I’ll see you Wednesday.” “Thanks.” he smiled “And thanks for showing us around.” “Not a problem.” she shook her head “Always important the clients get the tour of the place, to make sure they like it.” “Its awesome.” Mary looked up “Can we go here on the way home.” Frank sighed and looked at Fliss raising an eyebrow. She laughed.

“Yeah, get used to it. Once you get that horse smell on your hands it’s kind of an addiction.” “Frank hates animals.” Mary shrugged.

“I don’t hate animals.” Frank shook his head.

“You hate Fred.” “No, I don’t”

“You said before we should bring him so a horse steps on him.” Frank inwardly groaned as Fliss gave a chuckle.

“Fred is my cat.” Mary explained.

“Good name.” Fliss said “I have a few yard cats hanging around, they keep the mice at bay. And that reminds me, I haven’t seen Thor in a while…”

“Thor?” Mary looked at her

“Yeah, my dog…” Fliss stood up and opened the office door, giving a sharp whistle. “He never goes far.” As if on cue a large german shepherd came lolling down the yard to greet them. Frank eyed the dog, it was huge. Mary, right on cue jumped down off his lap.

“Can I stroke him?” “Go right ahead.” Fliss said, she looked at Frank and spotting his face she smiled “He’s a softie, looks the part though.” “Well I wouldn’t mess put it that way.” Frank snorted, standing up.

“Is he named after the Avenger?” Mary looked up “I love those films.”

“Sure is, he used to have a brother called Loki too but, well he died.”

Thor gave Mary a lick causing her to giggle before he flopped onto his side raising his paw.

“He wants a belly rub.” Fliss smiled, and Mary dropped to her knees to give the dog a tickle. His tail began to wag furiously on the floor and Mary laughed.

Frank watched the girl, smiling. He loved seeing her like this. She was so grown up and serious half the time, he yearned to see her acting like a normal seven year old. He was reticent to drag her away for that reason but he had work later that afternoon, a boat that needed finishing by Monday afternoon was taking him slightly longer than he had anticipated.

“Alright short stack, we gotta move…” “Do we hafta?” “Sorry kiddo.” Mary made a face.

“Do you wanna go to the store or not?” “Ok.” she said, jumping up and wiping dusting off her knees.

Fliss walked them to the truck which was parked in the car park and her eyes flew over to her horse wagon, a small 3.5 tonne box. Frank noticed her looking before she turned back to him

“Yours?”

“Yeah, I did have a bigger one but, well I don’t use it often enough now to warrant it. Maybe at some point I’ll get back into competing…never say never hey?” He smiled.

“Ok, so I’ll see you Wednesday.” she said To Frank’s utter surprise, Mary walked over to the woman and wrapped her arms around her, giving her waist as squeeze, her head pressing into Fliss’s stomach. Fliss bent over to give the girl a quick hug and smiled.

“It was nice to meet you both.” Fliss released Mary and gently ruffled her hair “I can’t wait to see you ride.” Mary headed over to the passenger side of the truck and stood on the sill so she could yank open the door. Fliss turned to Frank and looked at him, frowning slightly.

“Sorry, was that too much? I didn’t mean-” “Oh,God,no.” Frank stuttered, hastily shaking his head. “No, it’s just…well she’s never usually that affectionate with strangers. Not that you’re a stranger I suppose, not anymore but…” he shrugged.

“I’m flattered then.” Fliss said, her pretty face cracking into a smile which Frank couldn’t help but return. There was a moment of silence where he simply looked at her before he started suddenly.

“I should…” he gestured to the truck with his keys.

“Yeah, sorry. Have a good day Mr Adler…” “Frank…” “Frank.” she corrected herself with another gorgeous smile “I’ll see you Wednesday.” With a smile of his own and a nod he walked to the truck and Fliss turned and headed back to the yard.

He climbed in and turned to Mary who was looking at him, smirking in a smug way that was well beyond her years.

“What?” he demanded.

“You like her.” Mary snorted.

“She’s a nice girl, I mean woman…lady…”

Mary didn’t say a word, simply sat back as Frank reached around for her belt before doing his own and setting the truck into reverse. Sometimes she was far too observant for her own good. *****

“If she gives you any trouble just tie her up on the porch.” Frank said as Mary settled on the couch in Roberta’s trailer. Roberta snorted and Mary glared at him.

“The only one who gives me trouble around here is you Frank Adler.” Roberta shot back. “Now scoot, Mary’s gotta tell me all about this pretty girl at the stables she says you’re sweet on.” “Jesus…” Frank groaned “I’m not sweet on her, she was just nice.”

“He googled her.” Mary said.

“You googled her” Roberta intoned.

“I was curious ok?” Frank sighed “And you asked me to!” “She’s an Olympic Gold medallist.” Mary chanted, draping herself over the arm of the sofa, head hanging, hair brushing the floor “At London 2012 but then she had an accident in the World Championships later that year and she broke two vertebrae…she didn’t compete again. And she was married to a guy called John Stazaker, he was on the US team but they’re divorced now. He’s in prison…but Frank didn’t tell me why.” “Because it’s none of your business, and you don’t mention it to her.” Frank said sternly, cutting her off.

Roberta looked at him curiously “But you’re not interested in her,at all.” “Like I said, curious.” he shrugged “Especially if she’s gonna be teaching Mary.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Roberta dropped her hands to her hips “Whatever you say honey…” Frank sighed and then looked at Mary. “Be good.” “I will, see you in the morning…”

He nodded and then headed out. It was a pleasant evening, the heat of the day had died down to an acceptable level and the ten minute walk down to the small strip of bars wasn’t as sticky as normal. It passed fairly quickly, he was lost in thought about the woman he had met before. It had made for surprising reading, a child star on the circuit the accident had cruelly robbed her of a future in the sport five years ago, and from the sounds of it her ass-hat ex-husband had stolen three years of her life too. Still, as he had told Mary, it was none of their business.

He yanked the door open to Fergs and headed over to the bar. Ordering his usual he perched on a stool and pulled over one of the papers, flicking it open. Taking a pull of the beer he was handed, he let out a sigh. Friday nights were always his time, his one night of the week where he wasn’t Frank with the Dead Sister and the child genius niece to bring up. He was just plain old Frank Adler, perpetual bachelor that might or might not get lucky, depending on how the night went.

Half an hour or so later he was another beer deep and completely lost in his reading. So much so he was barely aware of the body besides him as it slid into the space next to him at the bar. That was until they spoke.

“So how much did she sting you for at the store?”

Frank grinned at Fliss “Just short of a hundred. New hat, boots and a pair of jodhpurs.” Fliss giggled “Make sure she wears the boots in, they’re a killer for the first few days!” “I’ll bear it in mind.” he smiled “So, you hear alone or…” “Oh, no. It’s my Mum’s birthday so there’s a few of us out.” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Frank followed her eyes and settled on a table full of women who were all laughing. One looked quite similar to Fliss, same face shape and nose, who he assumed to be her mother. “If I’m honest it’s a bit boring considering they’re all over fifty but…” Frank laughed “Well I was gonna offer to buy you a drink but…” She laughed again “Thanks but, there’s a kitty going…” with that she turned to the bar tender. “Hiya, can I get 4 bud lights, a gin and tonic and a vodka soda please?” The bar tender nodded and headed off.

“Mary hasn’t shut up about Monty all afternoon.” Frank said and Fliss smiled.

“Like I said, once they get the bug they’re bitten.” “It’ll be good for her to have a hobby.” Frank repeated his earlier sentiment “She doesn’t get much interaction with kids her age.”

“Oh, what about School?” Fliss asked. Frank hesitated and took a drink from his bottle. Fliss let out a silent groan “Sorry, that’s really none of my business.” “No, it’s fine.” Frank shook his head, swallowing his beer. “She’s err, home schooled at the moment. My neighbour thought a hobby might be a good way for her to kinda do that before she goes to school.”

Fliss smiled “Well she’s not wrong. The kids I teach are great, I don’t stand for any crap, she’ll be welcomed with open arms.”

“Glad to hear it.” Frank smiled “Mary can be a litte…well, I suppose, odd is the right word. She’s old before her age.”

“Oh I know all about that.” Fliss smiled. “I spent most of my childhood training. Didn’t get chance to do much normal kid stuff. I was that focussed on my dream of gold medals…” “And you achieved it.” Frank nodded.

“Yeah, wish it had lasted longer you know, but what can you do.” she shrugged. “Hey, you never know, Mary might find a sudden hidden talent that catapults her into stardom…” Frank stiffened slightly and it didn’t go unnoticed by Fliss. She hesitated for a moment before Frank shook his head and smiled “Maybe, although that would really gonna fuck my bank balance…”

Fliss chuckled, eyeing him slightly. The man was a total mystery. At that the Bar Tender returned with a tray of drinks and she turned to pay him, waving away the change.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you Wednesday.” she smiled “Bye Frank.” “Yeah, have a good evening.” he smiled and she turned and walked away. Frank watched her go, the tight jeans she was wearing accentuated her ass and her legs, helped by the white heels she was wearing. The loose white cami top rode up slightly as she bent over to deposit the tray and when the woman he assumed to be her mother caught his eye and gave a knowing smirk he hastily turned around.

“Another beer please pal.” he said, waving his empty bottle

****

“Who’s that?” Verity leaned over to Fliss as she settled in the seat next to her.

“Oh, that’s the guy I was telling you about.” she shrugged “the one who brought his niece up to the Centre this morning.” “I know you said he was good looking but…”

“Shut up Mum.” Fliss said, flushing slightly

“You’re old enough to be his mother.” Jane, one of the other women said and the table laughed.

“I wasn’t looking for me…” Fliss rolled her eyes “Seriously?” Verity laughed and placed her arm round her daughter, giving her a squeeze. “I’m just teasing Lissy, its just nice to see you talking to someone, that’s all.” Fliss smiled and grabbed her beer, taking a drink.

“Who the fuck was that?” John said, pointing across the packed bar to the man that Fliss had just smiled at.

“No one…” Fliss protested “Just a guy from work, that’s all.” “Right…” John said, the nerve in his jaw twitching. Fliss swallowed nervously and gently touched his arm.

“Honestly, he works at the stables. I was just being polite.”

“He’s eye fucking you.” “No, he’s not…” Fliss rolled her eyes and immediately realised what he had done when John gripped her chin painfully between his thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.” he practically snarled.

“I’m sorry…” Fliss said, the tears springing forth “John you’re hurting me…” He let go and she dropped her head, turning back to the bar. She picked up her drink and took a long pull from the bottle, trying to compose herself. Her hand was shaking, she’d made him angry.

And she knew what that meant…

“Hey…” her mother’s voice shook her out of the memory and she looked up at her. “Oh Liss…”

“I’m ok…” she said, taking a breath.

Her mother looked at her again, and Fliss knew she was busted. “I was just…having a flash back that’s all.”

“He’s not here.” Verity dropped her voice “That fucker is where he belongs, behind bars and he won’t be bothering you again. Me and your dad promised you that…and we meant it.”

“I know, honestly I’m fine…” Fliss assured her mum who leaned over and gave her temple a soft kiss.

Fliss smiled back and shooting one last glance at Frank, who has his back to the table as he continued his reading, she turned to the women and threw herself into the conversation.

**** Chapter 2

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted fan fic #gifted

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anythingbutmar · 4 years

Text

Mistake

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: After you turned 18, Diego and you pretty much distanced from the other members of the academy, so when you all meet for Reginald’s funeral you have some explaining to do.

A/N: I kinda love this concept but I changed a few details of this request so the reader is not raised as a sibling and her relationship with the others is in no way familial. I missed writing, specially for Diego, so thanks anon! This is quite long too, so sorry about that. I had a lot of fun too, so let me know if you’d like me to make this into a series, cause I might do it.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of homelessness, but overall just fluff and a bit of angst.

You liked to say that the life you made by yourself happened because of a simple mistake, because you had come across the Umbrella Academy on a very particular way.

You could say you had a decent upbringing, your mother wasn’t abusive but she was pretty much the definition of overprotective, and as a child you were never told that it was because a man had literally tried to buy you on the day you were born, in fact, you didn’t know anything about him or the children he managed to adopt because your mother and grandparents wouldn’t let you get anywhere near any piece of information of whatever existed outside your little hometown.

They told you they were doing it because your father had left you when you were just a baby and they wanted to protect you from the dangers of foreign men, of course you thought that you were born from a normal pregnancy, and you believed everything, that and the fact that you could control any element to your will, which they said was wrong and kept hidden. You were homeschooled, and you could only socialize with the kids from your neighborhood which was good, but it wasn’t enough, and we all now overprotectiveness can really mess with someone’s mind.

And so, even though you went along with it for many years, when one of your only friends suggested you both snuck out for a party on the big city for your sixteenth birthday you couldn’t say no, and that was the mistake, if it is possible to call it like that.

On the best Rapunzel style you went out your bedroom window, got on a bus and drank so much alcohol you completely passed out on a strangers lap and woke up on an unknown bed with a beautiful woman smiling down at you. Well, maybe that wasn’t Rapunzel’s style, but it sure felt like it at first.

The next series of events happened so fast it almost felt like a dream. You met a handful of strange children, one of which you later remembered had brought you there while being just as drunk as you were, his name was Klaus, and he later became the best friend you ever had; then you had the most overwhelming conversation of your life, in which an incredibly mean old man explained how you were actually born and made you understand just how different and important you were, but not in the wholesome way.

About an hour later your mother stormed through the academy looking for you, but one of the girls whispered something in her ear on her dad’s command which changed your mom’s entire attitude, with her allowing you to stay as if it was a boarding school, or so she told you, but she only visited once every few months and she didn’t seem as caring as before. According to Allison, that was in no way her fault, and you believed her, because at the end of the day you trusted your newfound friends much more than the woman that lied to you your entire life.

And so, you learnt to control your ability like never before, while also enduring Reginald’s cruel treatment, but it didn’t matter at all, because in the midst of everything you found Diego, and with him came all the things you never experienced before. He brought you happiness, love, trust and overall, lust for life.

Two years later you were living your best teenage secret romance. You snuck out at nights to visit all the parts from the city that he wanted you to meet, and you shared tiny kisses whenever Reginald and the kids weren’t watching. But Diego left, just like he had planned since he was a kid, and you weren’t brave enough to follow him. It wasn’t until his other siblings started leaving too that you realized that no matter how hard it was to be outside on your own, holding on to life with him was better than anything else. It was actually thanks to Allison, the smart girl had noticed you two holding hands under the table and knew just how heartbroken you were without him. “Chase him, Y/N, you won’t have this opportunity ever again.” She said right before she left, and she was absolutely right.

It took you less than a week to find him on a motel, bruised as ever and with barely enough money to pay for another night, and in between hugs, kisses and forbidden touches you promised him that you’d both get out of there. He told you he had been on that place for three weeks and a half, but the first few days after leaving the academy he had to sleep on a park bench until he gathered enough money by playing with his knifes to amuse people on the street. It had been hard, but now that you were together everything was so much better.

After many years living in the back room of a rusty gym, both of you taking turns in wiping it’s floors while also trying to study and save people at nights, because the one thing you learned from Reginald was that you loved helping people, and Diego’s vigilantism was just as appealing to you as it was to him. Diego was accepted into the police force and you finished your studies on a cheap school, which allowed you both to get a job you liked, and when you were finally able to buy a house for yourselves Diego proposed.

“Y/N, before you arrived my life was a nightmare, and all I ever wanted was to stay as far away from that place as it was possible, and everything that reminded me of it I planned on cutting from my life, but you arrived with your sweet smile, your shy eyes and those damn legs, and you completely switched my view of the world because I knew right there that I would love you forever, and I do. I love to see you in your weird ass robe, making potions-”

“I’m a chemist babe, not a witch.” You corrected him laughing.

“Let me finish Y/N!” He laughed with you. “I love how you treated me and my siblings, and I love how you helped mom, and god! I love how you used to beat bad guys with fucking wind on our nights out! I love everything about you sweetheart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” By then you were both crying, and of course you said yes, how could you not?

Cut to ten years later and the day you had silently both dreaded and hoped for came. Reginald Hargreeves was dead, and you couldn’t even tell if you were sad about it, after all, the man had saved you from Mother Gothel, as Diego and you started calling her after watching Tangled with your daughters, but he saved you at what cost? You now had quite a few burn scars in your body from his dangerous training, you loved each one of them because they reminded you just how powerful you were, but still, no teenager should have to go through that.

And you couldn’t even get started on Diego. You wondered how and when he would take the news. He was out on his monthly vigilante night, which was kind of a gift you gave to each other, you were allowed to leave for the night once every month on different days because now that you had kids you could no longer risk your life everyday like you used to before. The kids, oh boy, what were you gonna do with your beloved girls? You weren’t sure if taking them to the funeral with you was the right decision, you wanted to shelter them from death and all the evil things in the world, but then again, you weren’t your mother, and you had no one to leave them with.

Just as you were thinking about maybe even staying, your husband entered your home, and he looked destroyed. It was one in the morning and you had been waiting for him while thinking of Reginald, and clearly he had been thinking about the same thing. You quickly stood up and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“He’s d-dead.” He stuttered on your shoulder. He didn’t even sound sad, he just seemed shocked.

“Shh, I know baby, I know.” You stood there for a while, just comforting each other in the middle of your kitchen before going to bed, you needed to rest for the next day because you knew it would be anything but ordinary.

And in the blink of an eye you were ringing the bell of the academy, each of your girls holding their father’s hand, the three of them standing behind you in your small, useless effort to protect them.

Grace opened up, and you couldn’t be happier to see her. You gave her a small hug and then gave Diego some space so he could properly say hi to his beloved mother. He introduced Luna and Amber and she was delighted to see Diego in a stable, loving family, she just seemed a bit off, but you’d talk to Diego about that later.

And then... Lord help you, you entered the livingroom and ran headfirst into Klaus who instantly hugged you, twirling you around and making you laugh as you both landed on the floor.

“Y/N, love! How have you been?” He sat up, looking at the doorframe, as he seemed to notice the two pair of eyes that stared in curiosity. “Oh I see you’ve gotten busy! Hello my little munchkins, I’m your uncle Klaus!”

“Wait Y/N/N, you’re with Diego now?” Luther asked from the other side of the room. Despite his rivalry with your now husband, you were quite close to him during your small time on the academy.

“Honestly Luther, I love you, but you can be quite oblivious sometimes.” You stood up with his help and hugged him tightly, getting a comforting feeling from his embrace.

“I’m here too, you know, your brother, Diego?” He finally entered, still holding your daughters’s hands and analizing the scene.

“It’s not our fault that you can’t say hi to anybody.” Allison came from behind him, scaring him, which made the girls laughing.

“Hi Allison.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes at his sister.

“I always knew you liked keeping your secrets but this two are way too big to hide” Se kneeled down to pinch Luna’s cheek, who smiled bashfully at her aunt.

Amber, your youngest, ran towards you and pulled your hand. You kneeled to her height as she whispered in your ear. “Mommy, I want to meet uncle Spaceboy.” You smiled softly at her sweetness, carrying her towards him. She instantly jumped in his arms, which took both Luther and you by surprise, she wasn’t the most sociable girl after all, but you kinda understood, his big frame and natural akwardness made him look quite huggable.

“Damn bro, you’ve gotten big.” Diego joined you, leaving Allison to play with Luna, who was now excited to know that she had a cousin her age, and you left before the two started bickering, but much to your surprise, the presence of your daughter seemed to retain them from fighting like they used to. Maybe bringing them was a good idea after all.

“Well, this is is quite the frame” Pogo entered the room with Vanya right behind him. You all waved at them, tired already of all the hugs already.

“Hi everyone.” Vanya entered uncomfortably, allowing Allison to hug her and having a small talk.

You turned to Diego and looked at him, a warning in your eyes. You knew your husband all to well, and you could see how much the book had hurted him, but you weren’t going to let him start a fight in the middle of a family meeting.

But of course, he wouldn’t listen to you.

“Why did you do it?” He started walking towards her as you mentally facepalmed. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Really, Diego? This isn’t the right time.” Allison scolded him, standing between him and her only sister.

“Then when is it, Allison? The next time we see each other? Should we wait another twelve years?” Allison just scoffed and stormed out of the room, Luther following after her, Vanya left silently, looking hurt, and Klaus snuck out in the heat of the moment, probably looking for money.

You sat on the biggest couch in the middle of your daughters, surrounding them with your arms. “That went well.” You stared at Diego, who pocked his tongue at you.

And it was about to get worse.

After having a tiny dance party, thanks to Luther’s incredibly loud turntable, you heard a thunderlike sound and watched as a bright blue light appeared outside. You looked at Diego, knowing what to do from all the years of practice that you had together. Each of you grabbed one of the kids, running outside to meet the others, who surrounded you in a protective manner, protecting their newly met nieces.

There was a portal in front of you, which Klaus tried to close with a fire extinguisher, but you could tell it wouldn’t work, because that wasn’t made of fire, or any other element that you were familiar with, for that matter, and you were an element bending chemist, for christ’s sake.

“What the hell is that babe?” Diego yelled, trying to understand.

“I have no idea, but there’s something coming out of it!” You yelled back, and everyone turned to look at what appeared to be an old man coming out of the portal. And in a flash of blue, a small boy landed at your feet, he looked incredibly similar to the portrait of the lost sibling that hung on top of the fireplace.

“Does anyone else see little number five?” They all nodded at Klaus, who clearly wasn’t sober enough for this, or maybe the poor thing thought that was the ghost of him, and you knew he already had enough with one dead brother following him around.

“What on earth is wrong with this family?” You said, looking at the odd teenager.

Minutes passed as you all stared at Five, who was preparing a goddamned sandwich, in the middle of one of the most confusing moments of your life.

“You’re new.” He simply stated, looking at you.

“Umm yeah, we haven’t had the chance to meet before, I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand, which he didn’t take, the tiny bastard.

“Oh we’ve met. You were the one with the girls, holding his hand.” He pointed at Diego, sandwich in hand.

“I don’t understand, you weren-”

“Look kid, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you, you need to leave.” Diego was ready to jump at him, but Luther stopped him and you grabbed his arm softly.

“It’s ok honey, I get it.” You whispered and left to look for Grace who was taking care of the girls.

You let out a sigh as you walked by your old room. You had been wanting to scream ever since you got there, but this was your first alone moment in the whole day, and a sigh was just as effective as a scream, it helped.

Then came the funeral, and it was hard. Luther scattered the ashes and you manipulated the wind so they wouldn’t look like a pile of grey shit, which actually, was an accurate depiction of Reginald, but you did it for him and Pogo, it was the right thing to do.

And after a few out of place comments, Diego and Luther started fighting right in front of your daughters, so much for the agreement. Luna and Amber started crying, hiding behind Five, who, much to your surprise, covered them with his body as he slowly took them inside. It was infuriating to see the men fighting in front of you, but you couldn’t help but smile looking at Five.

It was that moment that truly made you feel home, like you really were in family, and it warmed your heart.

-End of maybe part one?-

#i wasn't expecting to go this far #but i did #and i don't regret it #diego hargreeves imagines #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves fluff #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfiction #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy fluff #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy imagine

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sunsetinmyvein · 3 years

Text

You Better Keep Your Mouth Shut

A fic for someone other than Matty? Miraculous, I know. Thanks for adding some diversity to the mix @robinrunsfiction with your request from the prompt list. :P

Why were family events so awkward and stifled? Was it just a prerequisite of getting together with extended family that by default there had to be repeated pleasantries, uncomfortable questions and weird plus ones? Or was that just my family? Thanksgiving was never fun for this exact reason. The food was nice, but having to mentally prepare for at least three days prior for my aunt’s annoying speeches about what she had already accomplished by the time she was my age was not. But it was only once a year. I only had to grin and bear this for just twelve hours, once a year. I could do that. The best bit of this whole weird gathering was that my sister had decided she required a plus one this year. Apparently, she was fed up of the berating from our grandparents about when she was going to get a stable boyfriend, so she had dragged some poor outsider into this mess. However, that outsider happened to be someone that I already knew. Instead of choosing someone from her own social circle (she thought our parents might get suspicious if it was someone that they had already met), she chose someone from mine. Spencer was my best friend, and she had decided to “date” one of his good friends, Ryan.

It was pretty obvious that they weren’t actually dating. They were overdoing it. The constant hand holding, the sappy remarks, the sweet smiles - it was sickening. Anyone who was paying attention would be able to notice that all of this intimacy was entirely surface level. There were no stories about how they met, no retelling of funny dates, no actual kisses exchanged. My family seemed to buy it, but I wasn’t. I knew full well Spencer would’ve told me if Ryan started dating my sister. But it definitely gave the extended family something new to discuss and fuss over. I’d only met this guy a handful of times in passing over the years and he seemed fairly reserved from what I had seen. Spencer usually talked highly of him. But here he was, fake dating my sister and trying to charm a family that wasn’t his own. The whole charade was leaving a bitter taste. My family were shitty to deal with, sure, but it was still pretty underhanded to deceive them like this. I thought better of my sister than to pull a stunt like this, and I thought Spencer kept better friends than this, too. Apparently not.

“What do you do for work, Ryan?” I heard my dad ask as I tuned back in to the dinner conversation.

“Yes, Ross. Enlighten us.” I chimed in, putting my phone down to hear his answer. I had been texting Spencer to ask if he knew about this or not (he didn’t), and to cross check what Ryan was saying. So far, everything he’d said tonight had been a lie. Where his family lived, what he was studying, he was painting the picture of a perfect boyfriend.

“Is there a reason you never say my first name?” He asked with a frown.

“Well, from the brief time that I’ve known you, I just don’t think that we’re familiar enough to be on a first name basis.” I answered with a fake smile.

“He’s your sister’s boyfriend!” My mother chastised.

“Well, he should act more like it then.” I muttered under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I quickly dismissed. “So?” I asked, turning back to Ryan.

“I’m an intern at a law firm.” He absolutely was fucking not.

“Oh, that’s good!” My uncle beamed. “Must be lining you up for a good paying job?”

“Yeah, I hope so!” The dark-haired boy laughed nervously.

“What firm are you at?” Now this was going to be interesting.

“Uh…” His wide-eyed floundering made it clear that he hadn’t been prepared with details to support his lie. Thankfully, my sister quickly came to his aid and rattled off some firm that she had heard of. Good save.

“That’s a really good place. They’ll set you up well to take care my little niece here.” He said as he placed an affectionate hand on said niece’s shoulder.

“Only the best for my love.” Gross. I needed to get some air or I was going to throw up all my turkey from how soppy that was.

“I need a drink.” I sighed, excusing myself from the table.

Sure enough, as soon as I started pouring something into my glass, Ryan walked into the kitchen too. I couldn’t even get one moment of peace this evening. Great. He wandered aimlessly around the room, opening a few cupboards before turning to me.

“Hey, where’s the-”

“You’re not in love with her, are you?” I interrupted.

“I, uh… Yeah, I am.” He tried his best to defend himself, while also vehemently avoiding my gaze.

“No, you’re not.” I said, shaking my head.

He cleared his throat and glanced at the doorway before speaking, “What makes you say that?”

“I know my sister well enough to see when she’s faking it.” I answered simply.

He let out a long sigh, looking torn about whether or not to admit it. “Look, could you just keep this between us?” He said eventually.

“Why would I? What’s in it for me?” I scoffed as I kept making my drink.

“I dunno. I’ll give you fifty bucks or something.” He said with a shrug.

“You’re trying to bribe me for my silence?” I laughed loudly; Ryan quickly shushed me in response.

“No, I- ugh. What do you want?” He grumbled in frustration. “Can’t you just drop it?”

“Why are you even doing this?” I frowned, dodging his question. “Actually, never mind, do I even want to know?” I added as I placed the tonic water back in the fridge.

“I offered to do it as a favour when she suggested asking someone.” He replied, still looking around the kitchen for whatever he was after.

“You instigated this?” I asked in surprise.

“Yes. To help your sister out.” He said with a nod. Hm. I supposed maybe he wasn’t such an asshole after all. “Got it!” He said, proudly holding a jar of relish as he left the kitchen.

As expected, the silence was short lived. When Ryan left, my mother came in looking like she was on a mission.

“What’ve you got against that boy?” She asked in a stern tone as I poured the gin into my drink.

“I just don’t think he’s good for her, is all.” I answered vaguely.

“Why?” She interrogated. I shrugged, but apparently that answer wasn’t good enough. “Why?” She repeated.

“They don’t seem like they’ll be together long.” I tried my best to dodge her question. She stared at me for a long moment before deciding that was acceptable. And thankfully she dropped the topic before I spoke on it any further.

“Can you bring the pie in with you?” She asked sweetly as she grabbed a stack of dessert plates.

“Sure.” I mumbled as she walked out. Before I even moved to grab the pie, I poured myself a straight shot of the gin. I was going to need something strong to get through this evening.

By the time I finally came back into the room, Ryan was in the middle of regaling some story to try and get my family to like him more. But it was only a matter of time before he put his foot in it. “I was at practice the other day-”

“Practice?” My dad asked in curiosity.

“Band-” He realised what he’d said as soon as the word left his lips. But he’d said it now, there was no taking it back. “Band practice, yeah.” He admitted sheepishly. I saw my uncle share a look with my dad over this new information. A junior lawyer in a band? They were right to be suspicious.

“You’re in a band?” My sister gawked. She didn’t even know he was in a band with Spencer! What, had they exchanged all of five sentences before tonight?

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I could put you on the guestlist one night, if you’d like?” He offered with a smile.

“I’d like that.” I piped up.

“Oh, I… Yeah… Okay.” He stumbled, looking like he hadn’t expected me to take him up on that. Maybe it was the gin going to my head, but I suspected maybe I could have a little fun with this to make tonight a bit more interesting.

The drinks did indeed make things much easier. They also made a lot of this funnier. I watched Ryan and my sister fawning over each other during dessert, and it was no longer gross, now it was just humorous. After my dad cleared away the plates, they were exchanging romantic comments and staring at each other wistfully.

“Gosh, when’s that gonna happen for me?” I asked with a faux dreamy expression.

“Huh?” Ryan asked in confusion.

“When will I land myself a boyfriend like you?” I elaborated.

“Maybe if you had kept your last job you might’ve met someone there.” I heard my aunt say. But her passive aggressive comments weren’t going to sway me this time.

“It’s a shame Ryan isn’t single.” I pouted. Ryan choked on his drink as I said it, instantly spluttering all over the table. He excused himself and ducked to the bathroom, leaving me trying very hard to not break into hysterics. I suspected I hadn’t been too far off the mark when I picked him to be quite shy, because it seemed that legitimate flirting (not fake flirting) was something he couldn’t handle.

It was pretty easy to carry on like that once I got the ball rolling. And by some stroke of dumb luck, my parents saw it as me warming up to Ryan rather than me messing with him. Whenever the night was nearing its end, I kicked Ryan’s shin under the table to catch his attention. He looked over at me with an exasperated expression, obviously fed up of having to tolerate my antics.

I leant in before speaking, making sure I had his full attention, “I really, really want to kiss you right now.” I said quietly.

His eyebrows shot up in shock, his mouth opening and closing a few times while he clearly tried to think of what to respond. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” He eventually settled on. I just shrugged. “Why would you want to?” He questioned.

“To start drama.” I chuckled.

“Do you do this stuff at all of your family events?” He asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Only the boring ones.” I grinned.

“Remind me to never help your sister out again.” He sighed as he turned back to the conversation happening on the other side of the table.

My fun didn’t last too much longer after that. The sun had well and truly set, and people wanted to get home, which was my cue to leave. I wasn’t going to hang around here longer than I was obligated to. Once everyone had grabbed their leftovers and sorted themselves out, we were left with the awkward goodbyes on the driveway.

“It’s been a great evening.” I said, before grinning in Ryan’s direction.

“It’s been… an evening.” Ryan sighed.

“Aw, you didn’t have fun?” I asked with a laugh.

“Lovely to see you!” My uncle said, cutting my teasing off as he and my aunt exchanged their parting pleasantries.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime.” I said as I opened my car door. Ryan gave me a look like he’d sooner pass out before stepping foot into this house again.

#Ryan Ross x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein #Sunsetinmyvein prompts #Sunsetinmyvein requests

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s R&S - So-called Disparity (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (“所谓差距”) will not be released in EN or any server as it’s one of the cancelled R&S which came with the Dream Heart Lake gacha event!🍒

This is a full translation, so you can follow along with the narrator if you want to!

Summary: Goldman recognises that the gap between him and Victor isn't actually that large - it simply spans the Amazon River.

Cancelled Victor R&S:

> flashback

> six out of seventeen

> paradise on earth

[ Chapter 1 ]

Goldman entered that university as the third highest scorer in his entire province. Before that, he always felt like students who jumped off buildings in high school were mentally weak, and were making a fuss out of nothing. It was only after entering university that he knew how blessed he was to be a frog in the well.

Goldman has always had a pretty good mentality. A normal person would require a semester to get used to the psychological gap of being a big fish in a small pond instead of a small fish in a large pond. However, Goldman only needed two weeks - to be more exact, thirteen days, to adjust.

In his own words, it was something like this: “There is sky above the tallest mountain, and there is land under the deepest sea. This is very normal. I’ll never do something which puts me at a loss like jumping off a building. I, Goldman, have an eighty year old mother and an eighteen year old girlfriend--” before he could finish speaking, the neighbouring scholar snatched the reins of the conversation.

“I couldn’t tell at all. Just because you say something, it doesn’t mean it’s true. Show me a photograph!” The air in the surroundings of the dormitory, which was originally full of pretension, was altered by Goldman’s words.

In a sense, Goldman had a talent for being a “coordinator”.

The first time he heard of the name “Victor”, Goldman had experienced life as a university student for a month.

“Do you know the guy from 207? The one from the economics department... I can’t remember his name right now, but he’s the one who dresses very stylishly and always has a group of ladies running behind him.”

“Ah, I’ve seen that guy before. I think his surname is Gu. What about it?”

Goldman continued cutting voting slips for the student union, but his ears had long since developed a mind of their own, eavesdropping on the two people engaging in idle conversation.

“He seems to have invested in a business run by a few third year students, and they even promised to return him thrice the principal amount in a month.”

“It’s obviously a trap.”

“Let me finish. I originally thought so too, but that guy actually bought a new car!”

“Could his family be wealthy to begin with? Come to think of it, being able to buy a car means the amount he invested as a principal sum must have been quite a lot.”

“Who knows. Anyway, he has been advertising for those third year students recently.”

“Are you stirred?”

“I am, but it was a recruitment for an intern assistant. The opportunity to earn thrice the amount is gone, tch tch tch.”

“If you think about it, If we could learn how to earn thrice the principal amount, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to be an intern.”

“It’s not rare to see such businesses come to a premature end halfway. What if you end up wasting your time if you can’t prove that you did an internship there?”

“That’s true. Also, I’m not even certain what it is they do... it feels a little weird and scary.”

The speaker didn't mean it, but the listener heard it. That night, Goldman knocked on the 207 dormitory, and heard the name “Victor” from the man whose surname was Gu.

Even though he just experienced the blow of seeing a Gold Olympiad medal in the room of this scholar, Goldman was not to be trifled with. If other people didn’t dare to test the waters, he won’t be the first one to stupidly try.

Which is why in the following year, Goldman adopted a wait-and-see attitude.

[ Chapter 2 ]

Goldman interacted with Victor in person in his sophomore year, after he thought to look for an internship.

At that time, the newly established company which was still in its incubation stage was not Goldman’s first choice. But as a full-time sophomore, it was difficult to guarantee the prerequisite GPA in order to receive an offer from the top 500 companies. Which is why decided to try knocking on the doors of the new company.

At first, what went through Goldman’s mind was - if this company was unable to develop, he’d just go somewhere else. After all, there was still time to find other internships.

In the end, halfway through the interview, Goldman realised that the issue wasn’t whether he wanted to join the company, but whether it was willing to give him a fighting chance. Those who fluently recited their prepared lines and rehearsed repeatedly said that they failed to be accepted into the small company called “LFG”.

In actuality, Goldman’s self-introduction was cut short not even after thirty seconds, by a sharp-eyed man with short black hair.

“I only have one question. What will you do?”, with an emphasis on the word “you”.

Goldman noticed that when the young interviewer asked this question, the other interviewer had a hand to his forehead.

“Huh?”

In just two seconds, Goldman was left dumbfounded. However, as a student leader from the student union for such a long time, he reacted quickly after a slight pause, and started talking grandiloquently about his experience of attracting financial support for businesses.

This was an experience Goldman felt proud of and thought could prove his capabilities, which was why he was full of confidence as he talked about it.

He didn’t expect that... it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the interviewer, who, at a glance, looked like he wasn’t good to get along with.

“I’m asking what you, Goldman, will do.” It wasn’t even a question this time. Separated across the table, Goldman could easily sense the other party’s brimming impatience.

“Ah, Goldman, don’t be anxious. What Victor means is that if you weren’t endorsed by the school, do you think that company would still support you? And what is the reason for that?”

Thanks to the other interviewer, Goldman’s interview could continue.

When Goldman left the company, whatever impression he had of that “saviour” was merely an outline - his short hair was dyed brown, and he looked pretty easy to get along with. Apart from that... he couldn't remember anything.

The thing he remembered was that sharp gaze, that impatient tone, and that emphasis on “you”.

Oh, so that’s Victor.

Always observant, one moment didn’t slip past Goldman: the interviewer with the genial expression looked at the CV on the desk before calling his name.

But Victor didn’t.

On hindsight, Goldman wasn’t sure how he managed to pass the interview. Perhaps it was because Victor chose based on impressions?

Just like the moment he met Victor in person - even though he was stunned by Victor’s aura, there was a sense of expectancy and admiration in his heart.

Vice versa - Did Victor also experience something back then - a shred of “good feeling” which explained why he allowed Goldman to pass the interview?

But Goldman would never have the courage to verify the answer to this question with Victor.

Even more so when the reputation of LFG grew, causing Goldman’s courage, which wasn’t very large to begin with, to shrink even further.

[ Chapter 3 ]

In the year of his graduation, Goldman had a few choices:

One - pursue postgraduate studies in his major as the top of his class. Two - accept one of the offers from the world’s top 500 firms. Three - continue staying in LFG and working together with Victor.

Goldman eliminated the first option - he was in no mood for further studies. Back then, the reason why he entered the country’s top university was to find a good job in the future. Now, since he already had the second option in front of him, doing a postgraduate wouldn’t mean anything to him.

Goldman had a long struggle between the second and third options. He even specially called his parents in his hometown to seek their opinions.

“Being a trainee is essentially meant to train me to become part of the management in the future. If I go to that company, I just have to work hard and one day, I’ll make it big.”

“Mm, and a large platform means a stable job, and a broadened view. As for the salary... it’s around this amount at the start.”

“If I stay at my current company? I’d probably continue getting scolded by my boss every day. Although the prospects aren’t bad, it might close down anytime.”

“Boss? Oh, actually, he’s a senior who’s older than me by two years. I’ve interacted with him for two years, and he’s all right, just that his temper is a little bad.”

“How do I have a bad temper? Mum, you have no idea that compared to him, your son is piteous little sheep who hasn’t even learned how to hurt someone!”

“And I wasn’t mistreated or bullied. Your son’s skin is tough like iron! It’s not like you don’t know it. Also, I'm not the only one who gets scolded by him. If he only scolds me or can’t tolerate me, why would I follow him? Your son isn’t that silly.”

“Anyway... I feel that following him has enabled me to learn quite a lot of things. I’ve also thought about it - to use my youth to give it a try, and if I really can’t do it, I’ll find another job.”

“My classmates from different fields? They’re either inheriting a business, or going overseas for advanced studies, and can’t give me any advice at all.”

“I’ve been so worried these two days. Mum, which one should I pick?”

Talking garrulously on the phone, Goldman was best described as “a baffled person on the scene.”

[Note] The first part of an idiom is used here - “当局者迷，旁观者清”, which loosely translates to “The person at the scene is baffled, but the onlooker sees clearly. It refers to how outsiders tend to have a better perspective on matters.

He was completely unaware that he had already made an important decision during his discussion with his mother.

[ Chapter 4 ]

Although Goldman had indeed made a decision after graduation that only a hot-blooded youth would, he wasn’t the type of person to get frenetically excited over something.

As a man, he even allowed himself to wallow in a gloomy mood for a few days each month. This “dejection every month” became all the more inevitable when his understanding of Victor gradually deepened.

At the very beginning, he wanted to learn things from Victor, and from LFG. Honestly speaking, Victor did teach him how to get multiple returns on a principal sum in a short period of time, and he was also exposed to the many rules of the market. But there were still many things that he just couldn’t get a hold of no matter how hard he tried.

For example, strategising. For example, structuring.

The gap between himself and Victor... how should he put it, it wasn’t that large - it simply spanned the Amazon River. Even though the gap wasn’t as frightening as the Mariana Trench, it was still a distance that he couldn’t cross through sheer hard work.

How did the proverb go? All roads lead to Rome, but some people were born in Rome. Whether it was Victor’s thinking or his vision, these were things Goldman couldn’t learn.

Sometimes, he felt discouraged when thinking about it. Despite being born into a good life and having handsome features, Victor was still so hardworking. In that case, was there even a point for a normal person like Goldman to work hard?

On one particular day, when he was harbouring such a dejected feeling, he accidentally spilt coffee outside Victor’s office. To make matters worse, Victor was sitting in the office, witnessing the scene of the coffee being overturned.

Goldman was certain that he would get chewed out by Victor: Just like the time when he made a mistake and missed an underselling opportunity, had an incorrect financial leverage, and pasted wrong labels on documents, etc...

Or maybe he’d hear a clicking of the tongue, or receive a glare. But he never expected that this time, Victor’s response only comprised of four words: To err is human.

“Boss, are you talking to me?” At that time, Victor was not yet LFG’s CEO.

“...who else? Would I be talking to myself?”

Oh, it’s that familiar tone and familiar taunting, there’s nothing wrong - that was what the junior thought.

“Boss, are you in an especially good mood today?” At that time, Goldman was not yet as overcautious as he is.

“...I guess so.” A pause followed. When the senior opened his mouth again, it was uncertain whether it was an invitation or not. “The company going public is something that is more or less done discussing. When the time comes, I’ll need a CEO assistant.”

Such a light tone caused both parties to involuntary think of what happened during the interview a few years ago.

“...if you do that again.” his gaze was cast towards the mess on the floor. Victor’s tone was as calm as always. “I’ll do an external recruitment.”

Only after three seconds did Goldman understand what Victor was saying.

In just three seconds, the Amazon River became the limpid, clear stream outside his old home.

In this mirror-like stream, Goldman suddenly saw himself clearly:

Actually, Goldman had never sought to possess Victor’s air of a monarch.

To him, it was enough to be acknowledged by such a “king”.

After three seconds, apart from “dejection every month”, this little assistant had another motivation to press on.

Other cancelled R&S: here

Lucien’s cancelled R&S (by other user): here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc victor #cncancelled #Goldman why do you use so many idioms T^T #mlqc goldman

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miraculousmarifan · 3 years

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Felinette Month 2020 - Day 24: Huntress

Happy @felinettenovember! This was a last minute decision to do a little rewrite of a version of Snow White, at least to a certain point. Hopefully I will have enough motivation to finish the partially written ones tonight so you lovely readers can have four tonight!

Around 1700 words

When Felix found himself running through the woods, he regretted letting his father talk him into staying at home with his mother. His father had gone to the neighboring kingdom to discuss the terms of a trade agreement. Rather than bringing his wife, he allowed her to stay and watch over the castle and their children. His older sisters were betrothed to princes from other kingdoms, meant to be wed in the upcoming months, while his fate was not yet determined. He thought it was unreasonable for their mother to hold this against him when he was not yet of age, however during his father’s absences, she would find every reason to torment him. While he wanted to study quietly in his room or practice with his sword, she would find every reason for him to accompany her or his sisters on distasteful errands, clean whatever room or item was most disgusting (often the horse stables, despite their having a groom to care for them), or act as the practice dummy for his sisters’ self-defense lessons. There also seemed to be a disproportionate amount of “accidents” resulting in his being injured. It was not uncommon for him to have bruises just out of sight when his father returned from these trips.

On this day, he was sent out with his sisters to collect some flower that he had never heard of. As the girls rode their horses, he was forced to walk because their mother claimed his horse “needed to be rested for tomorrow’s task” and it would be too much for it. When they reached the river, he suggested they move up the river where it would be shallower. The girls insisted that they would be fine to cross and immediately started across. The horses managed it, though the water reached the girls’ legs. Felix tried to yell across that he was finding a shallower area, but the girls simply rode on without him.

He ran further up the river, finding a spot that he could sort of swim across without being pushed too far downstream, however it didn’t matter, as his sisters were long gone. He listened for a moment, noting how quiet the forest seemed to be. He determined that the beating from coming back without the flower or his sisters would still be a better alternative to being stuck out in the forest overnight. Instead he turned back in the direction he expected to be home.

Felix didn’t notice the pair of eyes following him, bow drawn. The huntress hesitated, despite having been paid to get rid of the prince. The entire afternoon thus far he had followed those girls without verbal complaint and only protested the situation when crossing the rivers. It seemed a shame that a young man like him was meant to be killed. She knew she needed to dispose of him, she wouldn’t be paid the bounty, two hundred gold coins, unless she brought back evidence of his demise. Additionally the queen was oddly specific about what she wanted as proof, some of the boy’s hair, a vial of his blood, and his heart. It made her skin crawl but those coins would make it possible for her family to move out of this kingdom, to one that actually could treat her father’s illness. They could afford a small house and be able to pay for food for at least a year, at least at the rates one of the traveling merchants had described to her. Those coins were the difference between their family dying, now that their land had been seized to pay for their recent debt. She took a deep breath and made her decision.

An arrow sunk into a tree near Felix’s head. He jumped, whirling around in a panic, before turning and running. It no longer mattered if he was running towards the castle, he simply needed to escape his attacker. Unfortunately the rush of adrenaline did not help his coordination and he tripped on a tree root. He stumbled to get up, hearing swiftly approaching footsteps, and tried to move quickly but more cautiously. As he ran, the trees grew thicker and he had to slow down more to maneuver. He gasped for air, trying to figure out if he could hide somewhere in the trees, before spotting an area of woods with thick bushes. He quickly dropped to his hands and knees to crawl into the bushes. The blood rushing in his ears disguised the footsteps following him. He was almost entirely under the bush when he felt something tug his ankle back.

Felix fell on his face when his other ankle was tugged as well. He tried to claw forward and attempted to get his knees back under himself with each successive yank. Finally he found himself being scratched up by the bush and unable to move forward from the stranger.

“Stop struggling! This will be much easier if you cooperate!” a girl’s voice demanded angrily. He froze, confused by the high voice. She tugged his legs again and he was pulled slightly closer.

“Wait! I’ll crawl out. Please don’t do that again. Just let me get on my hands and knees again,” he pleaded with a wince at the scrapes he was accumulating. She released her grip and he quickly pulled his legs under himself to back out. His legs were still shaking from the run and he turned to sit facing her when he got out from under the bush.

The girl in front of him had dark hair and intense blue eyes, as well as a bow at her back. He guessed she was near his age, though it was difficult to tell with how tired she looked. His mouth opened to say something but he wasn’t quite sure what to say. She spoke first.

“Just listen. The queen wants you dead. She’s got a bounty on your head. You need to disappear. Before you go though, I’m going to cut off some of your hair so she might be satisfied.” She stepped towards him and Felix tried to scramble back, only to feel his back press into the sharp branches of the bushes. She grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the base of a tree.

“Don’t worry. I just need the hair, not your head. You have to disappear once I’m done though. There’s a clearing that way,” she gestured with her hand and a nod, “where a family lives. They are rather generous and often house travelers for a few nights. If you ask politely, they may even help you get to a nearby town and you can start over. Now stay still while I cut your hair.”

Felix took deep breaths, trying to stay still and calm at the information she was giving him. She retrieved a knife from a bag at her hip and reached a hand out towards him. He flinched but let her touch his head. She gently pulled a chunk of hair away from his face before running the blade across the strands.

“It’s a shame that this needs to be done. You have lovely hair,” she mumbled as she cut chunks from his hair. She worked quickly without tugging on his hair painfully. Soon she had him turn so she could cut near the back.

He stayed silent as she worked.

“There! I tried to straighten it out a little, so at least you won’t look like too much of a ruffian. As long as you follow my directions and head directly that way towards the clearing, you should be able to get help. Remember, you are not the prince anymore. You don’t know anything. Come up with a new name and start over. If you could get to a different kingdom, you’d be safest. I’m leaving now.” She scooped up a bunch of his hair, put it in a smaller pouch of her bag, then turned and started to walk through the forest. Felix felt fear grip him and let out a strangled noise before he could speak.

“Why would you help me?” he called after her. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder.

“It doesn’t seem fair to cut your life short. I’ve never heard a bad word about you from the servants.” She continued on her way. He stood and watched her until the trees obscured his view. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t as smooth as when he had it cut by his barber but it was at least sort of smooth. He decided it was in his best interest to listen to the mysterious girl. He also felt somewhat glad that the clothes he had chosen to wear for this errand were not as decadent as most of his. With the dirt and fresh tears, he thought it could be feasible that he was simply a traveler. He thought of what the girl had said as he trudged on, hoping he would reach this family before nightfall.

Meanwhile the huntress headed towards an area she had left wild pig traps earlier in the week, before this job came up. An idea had hatched but it depended heavily on whether or not she had a pig to kill. As she approached her closest trap, she heard the sounds of exhausted struggling and knew they were in luck. She put the animal out of its misery and set about getting the necessary parts for the queen.

The queen waited for a message from the huntress late that night. Her daughters had returned, saying that they had lost Felix when crossing the river. He hadn’t returned and the servants assumed it was with worry for her youngest child. Close to midnight, the signal was given and she slipped out into the royal groves. The girl gave her two pouches and a vial, which the queen checked the contents of in the moonlight before passing a pouch with the agreed on price. The two separated and the queen retreated to a hidden room of the castle, rather than her bedchambers.

As the queen set out the ingredients necessary for her spell, she couldn’t help but think about what a fair deal she was getting to remove an illegitimate son from their home, saving the purity of the throne. All that was left of her plan was to make the potion necessary for her to conceive a son in place of this boy. She had to stop herself from humming as she worked.

#felinette month 2020 #felinette month #snow white rewrite #fairy tale au #felinette #miraculous ladybug

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phantoms-lair · 4 years

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The Ghost Town Job Snippet 4

(Not much Leverage Crew in this. Also I planned for this to take place right before Kindred Spirits, before I remembered Lancer bringing up Vlad’s becoming mayor in part one. So for the sake of this fic, Kindred spirits happened after Eye for an Eye)

"So," Valerie’s voice was no less threatening than usual. "If you knew Vlad was scum the whole time, why didn't you tell anyone?"

Phantom looked at her in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? I think I've made it pretty clear since before he landed in Amity Park I hated him."

"Yeah, and most ghosts hate the living. Why not share the details you obviously had?" Valerie folded her arms at him.

"First off, that's not true. Second, I didn't know about that until we found her today, Third..." Phantom trailed off and looked away. For a moment Valerie though he wasn't going to finish. "...My mom."

"Nice try. Ghosts don't have Moms." Valerie charged her weapons in threat.

But Phantom looked more unimpressed than threatened. "You do realize I used to be a normal human, right?"

It felt like a punch in the gut, because no she very much did not. It was easy to fall into the thought pattern of ghosts being these malevolent alien beings she'd somehow forgotten they were people that had died. "What does you Mom have to do with anything?" she hoped she didn't sound as shaken as she felt.

"Vlad's obsessed with her. He currently thinks he can slime his way into her heart through his money and good image. If he loses that-" Phantom seemed to shrink in on himself. "He might go for being more direct, like not letting her have a say."

Oh. Oh &$*) Valerie switched her weapons off and flopped down. This was too much in way too short a time. Her mentor she'd been trying to make proud was an amoral madman creating half-ghost clones in the basement of his manor, Phantom was a teen like her who had died, and was trying to protect his mom. And this wasn't even starting on the thief who'd broken into Vlad's house. "Anything else You want to tell me to shatter my world."

“'Want' is a strong word." Phantom grumbled.

Valerie groaned. "What is it?"

Phantom looked like he really didn't want to continue. "The reason he's trying to create a half ghost kid is, okay, you need to promise you're not going to do something stupid." He started pacing midair. "What am I saying, of course you're going to do something stupid. You've been manipulated and lied to and of course you want to hurt him, I want to hurt him."

"Phantom-"

"But when you find out you can, you'll go after him and he's in public and be exposed, and then he won't have any reason to hold back."

"Phantom-"

"He's gonna kill Dad. It's easy enough to stop his covert plans, but if he goes brute force full power I can't stop him, I-"

"Danny!" She didn't like using his first name, not when he shared it with someone she actually liked, but she hoped it would be enough to snap him out of the spiral he was heading into. Sure enough, he head snapped up and his eyes looked, for lack of a better word, haunted. "I don't just hunt for revenge, I do it to protect people. No matter how much I want his head on a pike, I won't put someone else in danger. Including you family." The thought that he had one still made her stomach twist, but she had to get past it.

He took a deep breath (why did he need to breath???) and let it out slowly. "Vlad's half ghost."

That made no sense, which actually helped her keep what little calm she had left. "You want to break that down for me?"

"There was an accident in college and- actually better example. Remember that Ghost flu thing? Where everyone seemed to be getting random ghost powers?” “I remember,” Valerie said dryly. She almost destroyed so much of her things through accidental ecto-blasts. At least it gave her practice for controlling the cube lasers in her upgraded suit.

“Like that, but more powers and permanent. And he’s got 20 years to get those powers under his control. In addition he has alliances with a lot of ghosts like Skulker, so minions too."

"So all this is trying to create someone like him?” It didn’t excuse what she saw, the failed clones, the dissections, but it was at least understandable.”

"Not just anyone, he's trying to recreate me. My mother's child who would share something with him, something one no else would. He's trying to recreate me as their child."

Valerie suddenly understood why Phantom had thrown up when the got out of the house, she could feel her stomach twisting. "Her human DNA?" God she hoped the answer wasn't what she thought.

"Probably mine too."

"Fuck." Because what else was there to say. “We have to save her.”

“I know.” There had been such a temptation to just grab her and get out, but he’d overheard the same conversation between the intruder and whoever she was talking to. The girl wasn’t stable yet and removing her from the pod would kill her. “Maybe we should help the lady who broke into Vlad’s.”

Valerie gave him a look. “You want us to work with a random thief?”

“One, she is a very good thief to get through all of Vlad’s defense. Two, she wanted to save the girl as much as we did, and was stopped for the same reason. Three," Danny threw his arms up. "What could we do next? She's half human. She's going to need food, clothes, a safe place to sleep at night. I can't supply any of that for her. If thief lady is an adult who'd care for her, she can give her a much better life than I could." "What about your family? Wouldn't they be happy to have a part of you that's still alive?" Phantom winced and Valerie realized how cruel a statement that was. But before she could apologize (no matter how much is galled her) Phantom spoke first. "I want to believe that. I want to so badly. But I don't know. Mom and Dad...they don't like ghosts. They think we're all monsters. And while I want to think they could look past the half ghost thing and see her as a person I'm not sure." There was a lot to unpack there, and for the most part Valerie didn't care to. Too many paradigm shifts in one day, she wasn't going to start feeling sympathy for the ghost who ruined her life. "I miss this morning, when my only concern was whether I could blast you out of the sky."

Phantom snorted. "And I miss thinking you were so low on the danger scale you needed Kwan to beat people up for you. Disabused me of that real fast."

Valerie sat up, studying the ghost who hadn't seemed to think he'd said anything unusual. But when he had described was when she'd been one of the popular kids, a status she lost before becoming the Huntress. A time in her life Phantom had no reason to know anything about. Unless... "Did we know each other? Before you died?"

Phantom winced, though whether it was from the mention of his death or the detail of his former life he'd accidentally brought up she couldn't say. "I wouldn't say we knew each other. Like I knew of you 'cause you were one of the A-list kids, but it's not like we ever spoke before the accident."

He'd attended Casper High before dying in an accident. His parents were anti-ghost. And Valerie realized she filing away clues in her mind. Somewhere in this horrible day she'd discovered Phantom had been a person like her. And if she needed a diversion to keep her from lighting up the mayor, uncovering the mystery of who Phantom has been was a hell of a distraction.

#Leverage #Danny Phantom #The Ghost Town Job #Ghost Writing

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argylemnwrites · 4 years

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Fight or Flight - Chapter 12: Forward

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4800

Rating: PG (language only)

Summary: Two weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: I’m back! And I hope to stay back and posting! It’s been a while since the last chapter, so as a quick refresher - Hana has been named Duchess of Valtoria by King-Regent Rashad, Amalas was somehow able to track down the Walkers in Xanthi, Greece (and wants to turn that knowledge into an alliance), and the Walkers are heading onto Athens as their options for survival as fugitives are not looking great.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Hana glanced around the palace ballroom, taking in the groups of people milling about the room. In so many ways, tonight was just like any other ball or gala. How many events had she been to in this room over the past three years, with mostly the same guests, the same food, and the same music? But tonight was different. Not only was this ball being thrown in her honor, welcoming her as Cordonia’s newest duchess, but it was the first event she’d attended without Riley by her side. Since that opening masquerade ball of Liam’s social season, they’d always been together for every formal event. But not tonight. Tonight, she was back to doing things on her own.

She stood over towards the front of the room, greeting the last of the nobility and well wishers. Soon, the dancing would start. It was strange how everything felt routine and totally different at the same time. She supposed that when Rashad gave a speech acknowledging her new title, things would really seem different. But for now, it was just a weird mix of emotions she was trying so hard to keep at bay as she shook hand after hand, nodded politely over and over again, and kept a gentle smile locked in place.

“Congratulations!” Penelope squealed, scurrying across the ballroom and throwing her arms around Hana, “This is so exciting! Isn’t it exciting, Zeke?”

Ezekiel nodded briskly and gave Hana a small little smile as he held out his right hand for her to shake, “Yes. Congratulations, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, both of you,” Hana replied, giving a nod that she hoped conveyed the right blend of gratitude and authority. She needed her first appearance as a duchess to go well for many reasons.

She knew intellectually that her appointment as the Duchess of Valtoria was a desperation move from Rashad. His first week and a half as king-regent had been far from smooth and calm. The groups of protesters in front of the palace had grown in number every day, the citizens of Lythikos were organizing, and the unrest in Valtoria was spilling into neighboring lands. Rashad had needed to do something, but as a temporary leader, making changes that were too aggressive would be poorly received and could possibly worsen the protesting. He had to walk a very fine line, and presenting Hana as a new regional leader looked like he was taking action without actually requiring him to stick his neck out and take a stand. For someone who hated courtly politics, his maneuver was pretty brilliant.

But because of the fact that her appointment to duchess was done by an interim leader, Hana knew she would be subjected to increased scrutiny. Not just from Barthelemy’s allies, who would likely object to the title going to someone with known close ties to the Walkers and to Liam, but also from Liam’s supporters, who were likely to object to any use of the powers of the monarch by Rashad, someone they considered an illegitimate king-regent. Part of her worried that she was being set up to fail, albeit unintentionally.

Still, she knew she was ready for this. She had prepared her whole life to hold a title at this level. She had trained and studied and practiced for years. This was the job she had been preparing for since she was a child. Granted, she had been taught that she would rise to this title through marriage, was told that her job would be to be a diplomat behind the scenes, supporting a husband in his role. But the concept was the same, even though this title was hers and hers alone. And maybe it was crazy and naive, but there was a part of Hana that felt proud. Someone had seen her talents and skills and contributions to Valtoria and decided to recognize them. No, to recognize her.

Of course, it wasn’t that simple. Given the method of her appointment, she was likely going to need to prove herself over and over again. Her mother had seen fit to remind her of that twice already this evening, as if that wasn’t already running through her brain constantly. If she was even a mediocre duchess, so many would get hurt. Rashad would find it difficult to gain any support to make any decisions if his first major one proved to be a poor choice. Liam’s bid to reclaim the throne would be damaged if one of his known close associates was an unpopular and ineffective duchess. And probably most importantly, the people of Valtoria deserved some stability and support in a time of national upheaval.

As much as Hana felt for Riley and Drake and understood why they made the choices they did for their family, she also felt for the citizens of Valtoria acutely. They didn’t ask to have their duchess and duke abandon them, did nothing to deserve this degree of political instability. Of course, that could probably be said for all the citizens of Cordonia. A power struggle amongst the nobility had triggered the loss of the country’s heir to the throne and a power vacuum that was going to leave them without stable national leadership for months. The whole thing made her feel almost ill to think about, but all she could do at this point was do her best to serve Valtoria and it’s citizens with her whole heart and mind.

“How are you doing, Hana Banana?” Maxwell’s hand on her shoulder jolted her out of her moment of introspection. She gave him a smile, accepting the glass of champagne he offered her and tapping it lightly against his.

“Tonight has been… a lot,” she said after taking a sip of her drink.

“Tell me about it. It feels like it was just yesterday that we were here for Riley’s ball, naming her the Duchess of Valtoria.”

Hana hummed lightly at that, and suddenly, Maxwell was rambling.

“Not that you took it from her or don’t deserve the title or anything! Because you absolutely do! Like, you are so wise and smart and crazy talented and -”

“-Maxwell, I know what you meant. I was just thinking about how I could do without a recreation of the end of that night.”

“Oh. Yeah. Me too. To be fair, I don’t think my dad’s hired a bunch of assassins. Of course, I didn’t think he was plotting a coup underneath my nose either, soooo…” Maxwell trailed off with a little shrug.

Hana glanced over, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. “I feel like we haven’t had much of a chance to talk. How are you doing with everything?”

He shrugged again and took a sip of his champagne. “Yeah, I haven’t been able to get away from Ramsford really at all this week. Bertrand is losing his mind prepping for Dad’s inevitable attempt to forcibly retake his title. He’s hunkered down in the west wing, while Dad’s taken the east. Bertrand’s already fired about one third of the staff because he’s caught them over on Dad’s side for no good reason, so Dad’s taken to firing staff he’s sure are loyal to Bertrand in retaliation. Soon, it’ll just be the three of us. Actually, the five of us. Savannah and Bartie get back tomorrow.”

“Have you decided whether to give her Drake’s number yet?” Hana asked, making sure she kept her voice low. Ever since Savannah had booked the tickets back for her and Bartie, there had been a bit of a debate over whether or not she should receive a burner phone and be told how to get in touch with her brother. Olivia firmly believed there were already too many people who knew, whereas Maxwell brought up that it was wrong to prevent her from talking to her brother when she was only coming back to Cordonia earlier than planned to help Bertrand fight his father’s bid to reclaim the title of Duke of Ramsford. He insisted that meant she had already proven herself a trusted ally, while Olivia remained unconvinced. Both Hana and Liam had taken a more neutral stance on the matter, but he had expressed to her that he didn’t think it boded well for them that their group was already facing such strong differences of opinion. Quite frankly, it was a significant sticking point that felt like it could implode at any moment.

Maxwell shook his head. “Not right away at least. Bertrand honestly is so engrossed with trying to align support for his claim to our head of house title that I don’t think he’s even realized we’re in contact with Drake and Riley at this point. When I talked to Savannah, she was pretty worried about him, so I don’t think she’d want to risk hurting his chances by talking to known ‘traitors and fugitives’ at this point.”

All of it just made Hana sad. More families torn apart by this scheme, more pain and paranoia in all of their lives. “Well, that will make Olivia happy at least.”

“One can only hope. She’s been in fine form lately.”

He wasn’t wrong. It seemed like Olivia’s small reserve of patience was used up on dealing with Liam and Leo. She hadn’t lashed out at Hana yet, but the only thing Hana had done to annoy her was arrange that meeting with Kiara, and all was quickly forgiven when Hana told her she had fostered a line of communication on that front. Maxwell, on the other hand, seemed to annoy her regularly even at baseline.

“She just has a lot on her plate, Maxwell.”

“I know, I know. But that shouldn’t give her the right to take it out on us.”

“It doesn’t, but right now I think we are all just trying to hang on and hope for the best we can.”

“Yeah, well here’s hoping for better soon.” And with that he clinked his glass against hers yet again. “Speaking of better, do you need me to cause a distraction so you can sneak out and chat with Kiara?”

She shook her head. “No, Hakim is officially representing their family tonight. She texted me that he is on high alert and that it would be too risky for us to meet tonight. She’s coming alone next week.”

“Ahh, for social season kickoff, take two?”

“Yes, so I should be able to speak to her then.”

“What do you think her endgame is? Or Hakim’s?”

Hana tilted her head to the side and let out a small sigh. She’d speculated endlessly for the past week, ever since her meeting with Kiara, but every idea felt just as improbable as the one before it. “I honestly don’t have a clue, Maxwell.”

“That’s alright, even you are allowed to not know the answers every once in a while,” he said, winking at her. “Now, come on. We’ve been moping here for too long. Tonight is your night, Hana! So what do you say? Dancing? More drinks? Grab some food? Or did I hear someone suggest dancing?”

She smiled, grateful that Maxwell understood the power of a morale boost and proud that he was still able to cheer up those around him, even as his family was falling apart before his eyes. “Maxwell, would you do me the honor of the next dance?”

“Why, Your Grace, it would be my honor,” he replied with a flourish, grabbing her champagne flute and placing both their glasses on an empty tray before accompanying her onto the dance floor.

As they settled into the rhythm of the song, Hana gave Maxwell’s hand a friendly squeeze. “Thank you, Maxwell.”

“For what?”

“For still being you.”

He beamed brightly at that. “Same to you, Hana. Definitely same to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liam stood off to the side of the ballroom, nursing a glass of water. It was his first public appearance in about a week and a half, and even though he had never had a problem handling his liquor, the last thing he needed tonight was to have his judgement at all altered or impaired. This whole evening was going to be stressful enough without having to worry about imbibing just a little too heavily.

He knew it was important for him to be here. He needed to be seen again, to show strength and resilience and fortitude to any who might doubt him. Additionally, Hana was one of his dearest friends, and he wanted to be present to support and celebrate her. This night was key for a variety of reasons.

However, that didn't change the fact that tonight was just plain hard. He was surrounded by people he knew he could no longer trust. How many of them were plotting against him at this very moment? Were whispering how pleased they were about recent events over their drinks? Were watching him closely, latching onto any change of his expression as a sign of his suffering?

Other than Olivia, Leo, Hana, Maxwell, and Bertrand, people seemed to be steering clear of Liam tonight. It was clear they had no concept of how to handle interacting with him at this point. His circumstances were fairly unprecedented. Sure Leo had abdicated, but that had been his choice and he hadn't been the reigning monarch when he made that decision. Additionally, he had left the country for months after his abdication. But Liam was still here, in the heart of it all, after being stripped of the crown.

He wasn't used to having so much time to himself, both at formal events such as tonight's ball, and just in general. In the simplest sense of the word, he was unemployed. And while some, such as Leo, seemed to thrive without the pressure and responsibility that came from having professional duties, Liam was finding he didn't much like having… well, nothing. He had no career, no obligations, no partner, no children. He just… was. He existed.

He knew he needed to shake off this attitude. The social season would be officially, finally, starting in one week, and he needed to hit the ground running. He was essentially going to be campaigning for many months. The issue was that he had no desire to campaign. He had been born into his role and raised to serve Cordonia's people since he was a child. He wasn't supposed to have to fight to even have a chance to put that training to use.

Taking another sip of his water, he leaned against the bar, just watching as the rest of the nobility talked and laughed and enjoyed themselves. If he had opted for whiskey instead of water, he would have been doing a good Drake impression. Well, a Drake-of-several-years-ago impression. Ever since Bridget's birth, or maybe even Riley's pregnancy, Drake had been much more engaged at events like this one. Now that he had more time to contemplate that fact, he wondered how much of that came from Drake's own personal growth and opening up and how much of it was forced on him by the nature of Bridget being named heir to the throne.

He scanned the room slowly, his eyes eventually settling on Olivia dancing with his brother. She was wearing a grey dress, not a red one for once. He supposed that was a testament to how much she had come to respect Hana over the years - she had decided to forego her signature color and instead wore a less eye-catching one so that Hana could own the spotlight on her night. Eventually, the song came to an end. Liam watched as she laughed and rolled her eyes at something Leo said before stepping off to the side and making her way over to the bar. She slid up next to him, requesting a glass of Bordeaux before she turned to talk to him.

“So, how are you… uh, doing?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her awkward attempt at emotional comfort. She was trying, had been trying for days, in fact. But Olivia was just not well suited for gentle emotional soothing. Tough love was much more in her wheelhouse. It was nearly disconcerting that she wasn’t using tough love, he realized. He must not be coping as well as he wanted to be if this was the approach she was taking.

“I will admit that it is strange to be back here without my title. Coming to an event here, not hosting an event here is even more unsettling than I thought it would be. Of course that could be in part due to the fact that the exact same menu, music, and decor that was used for Riley’s ball welcoming her to the nobility is on display.”

“Did your assistant not think it might be wise to change it up at all?” she asked as she accepted her glass of wine from the bartender with a nod.

“I’m guessing Rashad didn’t care to make any changes, and Stefan isn’t exactly motivated to enhance the perception of Rashad as a leader. After all, he stayed on to help him at my request.”

“Touché.” she said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Of course, this Duchess of Valtoria seems far less likely to leave her citizens and her country in a lunch by fleeing and abandoning her post.” Liam regretted the words as soon as he said them. The look Olivia was giving him was an unbearable mixture of pity and frustration. “Sorry, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“Liam…”

“Okay, I might have kind of meant it, but I don’t want to mean it. I am trying not to mean it. At the very least, it wasn’t something I should have said aloud.”

She paused for just a moment, running her bright red nails along the side of her wine glass before responding, “Maybe it would be helpful to frame your frustrations with those two differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, instead of being mad as hell that Riley didn’t take her responsibilities to Cordonia seriously, maybe be more frustrated that someone as impulsive as her took on all those responsibilities knowing she would never be able to stay true to them. It makes the whole thing seem a little more abstract and annoying, less personal and infuriating. At least, it does for me.”

He frowned at that. Her strategy was an interesting one, but he wasn’t sure it was going to help with the storm of emotions he was trying to keep locked away tonight. “I’m not saying you are wrong, but Olivia, the only reason she carried that title was because I offered it to her.”

“She could have turned it down. Don’t put this on yourself.”

Liam didn’t know if that was exactly a fair assessment. Of course Riley could have rejected his offer of the duchy, just like Drake and her could have turned down his request to name their child heir to the throne. But he had been the one who decided that she was a good fit to be Duchess of Valtoria, that they were good options to raise the next King or Queen of Cordonia. With the benefit of hindsight, those decisions looked terrible, so wildly ill-conceived and poorly executed. How had he convinced himself that both those choices had been for the best?

He’d been so focused on being a compassionate, trusting king. He hadn’t wanted to turn into his father, cold and calculating, seeing enemies around every corner. But maybe he had swung the pendulum too far in the opposite direction and become overly trusting and complacent. Would anyone else in his position have made the choices he made? More often than not these, he doubted that many of his decisions as king were sound.

His silence must have made Olivia uncomfortable, because she wrapped a hand around his wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Liam, come on. Forget I said anything. You know I’m not great at the whole pep talk, emotional support thing. It was probably bad advice.”

Liam shook his head, feeling a sad sort of smile tug across his face, almost against his will. “No, I think it was good advice, Liv. It just has given me a lot to think about.”

“Liam…”

“I’m fine. I just am going to take a walk and clear my head.” With that, Liam set down his empty glass of water and turned around, walking out towards the doors and into his mother’s gardens. He knew he needed to be moving forward, not dwelling on the past like he was at the moment. The social season was only a week away, and with it came his bid to reclaim his title. Still, it was hard to be energized and optimistic about that prospect when all his failures and shortcomings seemed more numerous and prominent than they had ever been in the past. Or maybe he was simply more aware of them at this point. Either way, he couldn’t help but question how he was going to convince other nobles that he deserved the crown when he barely felt like he could convince himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley tensed as she heard the door creak open. Even though she was expecting Drake back around this time, she still half expected it to be Greek authorities, Montoressan spies, or Cordonian agents bursting through the door of their hotel room, ready to arrest her and take her baby away.

But it was Drake on the other side of the door. She let out a little sigh of relief when she saw his face. He, on the other hand, frowned. “What are you still doing up?” he asked as he closed and locked the door behind him. He kept his voice quiet, clearly not wanting to wake up Bridget.

Riley just shrugged. The truth was that whenever Drake went out, she was scared. Scared that he would be found and picked up and extradited back to Cordonia. Scared that she would be left alone in a country where she didn’t speak the language with a 10 month old baby. Scared that her family was going to be torn apart. But she couldn’t tell that to Drake, not when he was the only thing keeping them afloat. She knew him. He was already carrying enough stress without having to soothe her panicked and frazzled nerves every time he left to go earn them a little cash.

They had been in Athens about a week now, but Riley and Bridget had not left the hotel since they checked in. Bridget seemed to have resigned herself to the fact that her life now did not extend beyond these four walls and was usually content to play with her blocks or to listen to Riley read her the same three picture books over and over, which was both a blessing and mad depressing. Drake, however, had been venturing out daily, looking for places that would hire him under the table, without checking his ID or anything that might get them caught. She’d had to coach him on how to find these jobs, having looked for cash paying jobs many times when she needed to make rent back in New York. In some respects, it might have been better for her to be the one to go out job hunting since she had more experience, but they’d decided she was way more recognizable than Drake, particularly now that he had grown a beard to make facial recognition harder. Her inability to speak more than eight Greek phrases also clearly made Drake the better option.

He hadn’t had any luck the first four days, but then he found a restaurant owner who was willing to pay him straight cash every night to work as a dishwasher. Sure, the hourly pay was garbage and he didn’t get home until very late, but he also got to bring home leftovers every night, which meant that they had to spend less money on food. At this point, even slowing their bleeding of their minimal money supply was essential, particularly since the social season hadn’t even started yet, which meant that the earliest the Conclave could happen would be almost six months from now. Riley honestly didn’t know how they were going to feed themselves for that long, much less find shelter in the winter.

It’s not like Riley had never known poverty or living paycheck to paycheck before. But doing it now, with her baby girl, just felt so much more draining and awful. Bridget was just a kid, she didn’t ask for any of this, and she definitely didn’t deserve to suffer. But there was little Riley could do to make things better other than try and keep things happy and joyful when they were playing. Drake was doing everything else.

He handed her a bag of food before stripping out of his shirt and going to wash it in the bathroom. She peeked inside, seeing some dolmadakia, some bread, and some sort of chicken. A decent variety tonight. Trying not to rustle the bag too loudly, she pulled out some of the food and started eating, making sure to take less than half. She was sure Drake was lying when he told her he didn’t need much because he ate at the restaurant. She’d worked enough shitty, under the table jobs in her time to know that eating while on the clock was the quickest way to get yourself fired.

“So,” Drake said as he came out of the bathroom, taking off his pants and folding them neatly before climbing into the other side of the bed. “Olivia texted me while I was at work. She has a possible plan to get us our passports and some money, but she wanted to run it by us first.”

Riley knew her eyebrows had practically shot up to her forehead as she took in his statement. She handed him the bag with the rest of the food, turning onto her side to face him fully. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, Leo’s been back in Cordonia since we… uh… left. But he’s planning to take off before the social season kicks off.”

“Okay?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to spend a few days in Athens, taking in nightlife and clubs, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Riley wasn’t sure what to make of that. She always found Leo friendly and easy to talk to, but she’d heard enough stories to know that he was exactly the most responsible man on the planet. “You know Leo better than me, Drake. Is this a good idea?”

Drake let out a long breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment before he answered, “I don’t know, Walker. Him being here would not raise too many alarm bells, but he sometimes can draw the attention of the paparazzi - the “Party Prince” is usually good for a scandal or two, that sort of shit. And uhh, well… let’s just say I would count on him being an hour late if we went to meet him somewhere.”

“So not exactly your first choice to hold on to our passports then?”

“Not so much, no.”

Riley chewed on her lip for just a moment, her hand gently running over the back of Bridget’s head. She was sound asleep, nestled on the bed between them. Even though this hotel had a crib for them to use, Riley just couldn’t bring herself to fall asleep without her daughter right next to her. “We don’t really have a choice, do we?”

Drake shook his head. “We need money, Riley. Badly. I don’t know if Olivia is financing this or what, but I don’t think it matters anymore. We aren’t going to make it until January at this rate. Hell, I don’t think we’ll make it to September.”

She reached over and gave his wrist a little squeeze. He was trying to do so much to keep them surviving on their own. She knew it was killing him that they were having to take this risk, to potentially get themselves caught in some weird clandestine meetup with a former prince in order to get some more cash and their passports so that they could try and get forgeries made. It really was their best chance at being able to hide out through the Conclave.

“Well, then let’s do it. Work out the details with Olivia and get what we need to try and keep going.

Drake stared at her for just a brief moment before giving her a little nod. There wasn’t really much to say. All they could do was keep moving forward, day by day. So, Riley slid down into her pillow, finally ready to get some sleep now that she knew Drake was back and safe. The last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered closed was Drake letting out a heavy sigh before reaching into the bag of food.

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

TRR/TRH: @iaminlovewithtrr @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @yaushie @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99 @twinkleallnight

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr au #trh au #trr fanfic #trh fanfic #trr au fanfic #trh au fanfic #choices fanfiction #king liam #hana lee #olivia nevrakis #maxwell beaumont

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standfortheangels · 3 years

Note

I HEAR YOU! (for Cinder and chester ;W;)

Send me “I HEAR YOU!” for Your Muse (Ask Sender) to find My Muse in a secluded place, injured and alone.

(Prompt post here)

((Okay, so, I did this in two or three sessions, hopefully it doesn't seem too disjointed or sound weird anywhere, but if it does, that's why. >w>' I'm also definitely putting this under a read more because it is loooong))

The deep woods. This was the part of Chester's job that he usually minded the least- right from the start, when he was new to the village, these trips to gather supplies were like a welcome break for him. He didn't have to be social, or funny.. he could study the plants they needed without keeping his nose in the books that he could barely make out anyway. Maybe that's why Elzin made it 'the apprentice's job' back then. He was certainly fit enough to do it himself. After all... that was how they'd met. And though Chester had never outright admitted it.. odds were his reading trouble was no secret. Probably still wasn't in this village. People had a funny way of finding information they ought not have. Chester chuckled at the thought. His old teacher just, sending him out here conveniently to match up the illustrations with the real thing, learn where they grew, find out what else around here looked similar... All the while never saying a word about the deeper purpose to it. The same way his grandfather used to when he was a child. Though he suspected that was more to get him out of the way now and then.

The sound of semi-wet mulch under his feet was a sign he'd found his next target. He was never the best at navigating the woods, but he could memorise a route like no-one he knew. Well, sort of. It often felt confusing, and he'd get a little ahead of himself sometimes. But there were always little markers to pick up on. He'd take a mental note of them, and repeat the list to himself over and over as he went, and then, it wound up sticking in his mind. Somewhere inconvenient, like a sheet of paper tucked into a dusty book on the top shelf, but it was there all the same.

It was nowhere near as natural as the way Cinder and her people navigated the woods. Of course they did have the advantage of being raised there for generations, but it didn't take away how it would wash over him now and then; this marvel at how, in seemingly any territory, Cinder could pick out a path without having to stop and analyse it, never passing the same point twice. Humility and adoration aside, there was no denying it was a level of talent he could never catch up to.

Still, he had learned a lot from them. Maybe he should bring something back after this. Nothing to mess with the ecosystem though. ... Maybe tea. Dried plants were definitely safer.

He rested his hand on a damp log and carefully hopped over it, pressing on as the light grew dimmer through the canopy. Shouldn't be far now.. Just a few more paces to the east, and- yep, there! A small collection of tiny but beautiful yellow flowers, all joined by long entangled stems. Exactly what he needed. He took a dull little knife from his hip, apologising to the plant under his breath as he cut off what he needed.

Pulling at the small bag on his hip, he popped it open and quickly rifled through with a finger, just nudging the plants around and mumbling their names to himself. "Perfect. In you go... and next iiiis... Ah."

Skirt flower. These things were trickier. He sighed, and stood for a second, then off he went again. There was no point delaying it. He'd told the townsfolk he'd be back before evening fell, and if he was late, he was bound to get an earful from someone or other. Maybe Mrs B, so overly concerned about him missing the chance to eat that she'd practically force-feed him her latest concoction... whatever that would be this time. He practically shuddered at the thought. He would always try his best not to hurt her feelings, as all the village did. But he'd try even harder to avoid her food.

This next plant wouldn't be easy though. These things required a little climbing to get to. Thankfully not upwards, but, really the next worst thing. They grew along the walls of steep land. Valleys, cliffs, sometimes even stone walls if they were loose enough. Unfortunately, they also needed a lot more moisture than they could get in the open air of the village. This dank part of the forest though, where dropped leaves and mossy soil could hold water, this ought to be enough for something to grow. Though it would make it trickier still for him.

There was a place just a little further in that Chester called The Ledge. Not quite a cliff, not quite a hill, just a section of land that seemed.. fractured. As if the forest floor was made of separate pieces, and every so often, one piece would sink downward, making the area look like different chunks or steps or- well, ledges. The word was more fun to say than this place deserved, especially when he needed something from here. But, this was part of his job. 'Wizard' was a title to be earned, and never forgotten.

Every breath was practically a sigh as he tugged on the strap and the cords of his bag, looking down at where he had to go. The last thing he needed was to lose the plants he'd gathered already. Though really, he'd made this bag sturdy enough. He just... Needed to start. Just get in place, and the rest will be okay, right? Yes. Getting down and finding his footing was the hard part, he could do the rest~ If he didn't think about heights, or falling.

He probably looked like the least elegant man alive right now. Slowly crawling backwards towards the ledge on his knees, shifting his weight unsteadily onto his elbows and chest, legs just kinda.. dangling as he tried to find a foothold. One foot finally hit something that was definitely solid, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank all the world's goodness that no-one could see him like this.

With just a brief pause, he began shuffling back again, keeping that one foot stable, then wiggled his arms out from under his chest, elbows now pointing out, hands as flat to the earth as possible. This was the part he hated most. ... Actually, no. It was all terrible. Equally terrible. With some deliberate breaths, he began to bob a little. Up down up down up down, "One, two, three-" UP and backwards, every part of him screaming for just a second as he moved his weight down onto his feet. Great! Foothold was sturdy. Handhold, however..

He grasped desperately for the ground at the top. One hand succeeded. The other only found loose soil that slipped right off the edge, effortlessly, and though he strained, the weight of his body off-balanced him completely. The rocky foothold scraped his knee as he tried to catch himself, dirt up his nails as even the sturdier ground came away, the bottom ledge was somehow in the air above him before it walloped into his shoulder and back, his stomach did flips, and then-

SMACK

...

He opened his eyes. It felt like, cold stone, under his cheek. Pulling his face away from it, he heard a low groan, and brought an arm in to push himself upright, more or less. Behind his shoulder, there was a dull but unignorable pain. His eyes.. no, his head? Eyes? Maybe both, felt.. off. Like the world's worst and sharpest sinus headache. He heard another, shorter groan- given that he felt it in his throat, it must have come from him. But, he hadn't chosen to...

With one hand bearing his weight on the ground, he brought the other to his head. Only when the two made contact did the pain really hit him. He tensed, shrinking down into his shoulders, mouth open with barely audible sounds, breaths leaving in an erratic fashion at first. He was curled now, still sitting, as the pain continued to collect at the front of his head like fluid pooling in his skull.

... Pooling. Oh-... Oh no.

His eyes were open now, full of every fragment of fear as his mind finally clicked back into place. Blood. He'd.. He'd fallen, into this, pit. And now... He glanced down at the stone he'd woken on. It was solid, not small either, with a corner so sharp he gasped at the sight. There was only a tiny, tiny amount of blood on the stone where he'd landed, only inches away. His breathing spiralled almost instantly. If he'd hit that- if he'd landed just a hand's length to the left.. he wouldn't have woken up.

"I have-.. I have to get out of here" he whispered to himself in a panic, and rushed- in a haphazard mess of movement- to get up onto his feet, as fast as possible. His arms, and worse, his legs, seemed too hard to control. He wasn't even sure of his torso either. And did his head usually throb like this? Probably not.

His hands caught him as he lost balance and fell forward into the wall of the lowest ledge- managing to stay on his feet, but only just. What was the matter with him? Everything was spinning, he was so nauseous... "No, it's fine, it's fine," he spoke barely louder than a whisper. "We can do this. Just gotta get out of this hole and get back home. Or.. ditch. Outta the ditch. Get out of the..." A new wave of nausea literally knocked him back, and he had to rest his weight on just one hand while the other covered his mouth tightly. He shut his eyes, making little muffled noises as he fought his body's urge to vomit. His eyes opened again, frantically looking up the hill and to the trees, over to the side- no, it was even steeper over there. Though those tree roots might be worth another try, maybe he could get enough purchase on that big thick one if he stood on something- His thoughts were interrupted as he suddenly lost the war against his stomach, folded over and couldn't stop himself.. Maybe he got too distracted. Yeah, that was probably it.

Breathing harder and hating every second, he used his arm- from the elbow to the side of his fist- to hold himself away from the wall, and rested his forehead against it, looking down. Already he was back to fighting the next wave, and it didn't help that now there was a new smell on his breath. He closed his eyes again, so exhausted it was a challenge to even think about stepping away. Slowly, his lids opened again, to a world slightly blurrier than the one he'd seen just seconds ago. At least he couldn't see any flecks of red in his vision, though it wasn't easy to tell right now.

He turned, putting his back against the slope and dropping his arms. His eyes were barely open, then closed, then halfway open again... He was still breathing hard into the air that grew colder- it must be late evening by now. And he was still so tired... There were only two things this could be. One... One would leave him dead here before morning, probably. And there was nothing he could do. The other... Well, it'd be tricky, and unpleasant for sure. But he could still get out of here eventually. He had to get out. He had to fight every bit of this and get out of this ditch! He turned again with a push and put both hands on the slope of dirt and leaves- the leaves were a slippery nightmare when wet, but if he could dig his fingers into the soil... thankfully his desperation helped him on that front.

Ignoring the dizziness and nausea, he began to half crawl, half climb, upwards, but when one foot slipped, he couldn't react fast enough. Before he could even figure out what to do next, he was falling. It was quick, he'd barely made it anywhere, but his head- his head felt like it was still falling. Maybe it would fall through his body- maybe his body was falling through the floor! Mayb- He clenched his hand around some leaves. No, he was just on the ground. Again.

Alone.

He let out almost a whimper and- slowly- dropped his head. This wasn't going to work. He couldn't do it. Under his breath, he spoke a portion of the Goddess' prayer. If nothing else, if she let him survive this, she wouldn't have to put up with his presence in her own realm. Not that she would anyway. He'd probably be haunting these woods forever. Reminded him of those old stories... The not-fun ones.

Staggering back to his feet again, but always using something around him for balance, he looked around a little more. "Okay.. let's think about options, Chester, you can do this. Do what, who knows, but you can do it. Just, have to... Uh..." There was a tree here, a big one, growing right up close to the side of this miserable hole. But he couldn't climb trees at the best of times, and certainly not now. The wall again, with the tree branches and a big rock... Climbing on easy mode, right? Oh but it was so far away.... He almost fell forwards just thinking about walking over there now.

After catching himself for balance again, he realised something more worrying. He was shaking. And shaking hard. He looked at his arms, his legs, and fear flooded his thoughts. No. No, not now. His head was killing him. ...Maybe literally. "No, no, don't think about that" he muttered to himself. If he went into shock now, here, alone.. Okay. Change tactics. He may not be able to heal himself, but he was still a medic. Time to act like one.

With a strong determination, he got himself over to the tree, the world spinning again, but that's okay. It's okay, it'll be fine. He pulled his cloak a little tighter around himself with one hand, holding it there, and lowered himself as carefully as he could to sit back against the rough bark. The ground was still a little cold, but at least this section was mostly dry. The last rain must have come in from the other side, and this big tree blocked its path. Now resting his head back against it, he reached back and patted the bark with his free hand, murmuring his thanks. This was probably the most this tree had helped someone in its whole life. True it didn't really get much say in the matter, but still. If it sheltered him from further rain tonight, he'd be grateful.

Alright, medic time. His whole body seemed to appreciate stopping, but he couldn't relax too much, he mustn't let himself. His eyes were still objecting to being open but he made them stay, forced himself to keep them open. He couldn't risk just 'resting his eyes' right now, it was too dangerous, he mustn't fall asleep. Unless he died, in which case... there wasn't much else he could do. But he HAD to stay awake now. Stay awake long enough to let these symptoms ease off. He probably wasn't bleeding into his skull, but-

Actually, it might be better to check.

Carefully feeling around with his fingertips, both hands, he mumbled the different sections to himself. One hand still for reference, the other very gently walking over his scalp. "this should be where that joins... Little pressure... No movement, alright.. nothing there... Down to the back plate..." Once he'd moved back as far as he could go, he tested the very top of his spine, where it connected, just in case. It hurt a little, but no more than expected. He breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing he hadn't fractured anything didn't entirely rule out a bleed inside, but at least it ruled out one huge cause of one. And now... Now there wasn't much to do. In fact, only one thing not to do. Sleep.

The cold could actually be helpful there. There were only tiny specks of sky he could see way up there, through the leaves and the pine branches he still hadn't managed to collect, but it was enough to know that it was getting darker. Soon the nocturnal animals would be waking up. He wasn't too thrilled about meeting them. But maybe the uncertainty and fear would help too.

...

Uncertainty and fear were wearing off. It was definitely night now. He could hear the owl's call, though he doubted he'd be mistaken for a mouse, so there was no danger there. There weren't even any mice here with him. In fact, the only animals he'd seen were a worm and some kind of tiny flying bug too small to even care about. So all his worrying and imagining had kind of lost its edge when nothing happened. And he still wanted to be asleep.

He held his cloak tightly and pulled his knees up, shivering a little- thankfully, he was now sure it was only the cold autumn air causing that. And, he seemed to have better control now. But his head still felt like it was splitting and spinning and, almost floating too. His eyes drifted shut and he forced them open again in a second. "No. You stay awake, stay focused, come on! Uhhh, lightning trays, the biggest jar of- medical spiders, Peru with a whole treasure chest of knives, ahhh come onnn, think, something scary, something really really scary, something so scary I can't ever sleep again." He squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, his fists balled tightly, and tried to imagine something- anything that would overpower this exhaustion. And then, opened them. This was a whole different situation, different setting, everything. But maybe there was something... from there.. that he could use. As much as he hated it, the things they made him do must have helped him to stay awake, or keep his mind running at least. And that was good enough for now.

His hand went to the little bag on his hip, but he wouldn't open it, no, that would ruin the game. Instead, he had to remember. Remember every plant he managed to find and put in this bag. One at a time. Get that list growing, repeat it, add the next one, repeat it, add the next, and so on, until.. he very quickly reached the end. He'd put eight different plant cuttings in this bag. It felt like a lot at the time. It was more than planned, but he wanted to make that tea for Cinder to try. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day... Maybe never now.

"I should have gone for the sage. Skirt flower's a stupid idea.." He dropped his head back against the tree- gently, of course- and looked up again. Quietly at first... he began to sing. A song from his birthland about the dangers of traveling by sea. This... Wasn't the sea. But there had always been good advice in this song. Advice he probably should have listened to more. He sang those lines slowly, as if he was turning over each word in his mind, and grew just a little louder. Then, he stopped. And tensed. There was a sound. And there, again! A voice? It almost sounded like...

"Chester!"

"Cinder?" He was quiet, eyes wider than they'd been in hours, then tried again- maybe this wasn't real, but on the off-chance it was.. "Cinder?" He called out, louder now.

"Chester! I hear you! Where are you?"

"Uh- This way! I'm in a hole and I fell and-" he smiled, relieved, and took a breath. "I'm so glad you're here~ Can you- I-I'm just going to keep talking, just, follow my voice!"

"Stay there, I'm coming!"

Finally, his body relaxed, and not out of exhaustion this time.

"I couldn't go anywhere if I wanted to. Trust me, I tried." He smiled again. He wanted to just stand and move to the edge of the pit, but, it would probably be better not to go dizzy and fall again right now. But it was okay. Cinder was here. It was all going to be fine.

#Finally got this to work #it had to have the read more #but i tried multiple ways on my phone and it just would NOT work for me #but #here it is #asimplerper #chester meltori #chester x cinder

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jbbuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Professor Sugar - 2/7

Pairing: Student!Reader x Professor!Bucky Description: Like tons of other students you struggle with finances, but you can’t get any aid since your parents are filthy rich. The system doesn’t care that they broke off contact after you came out as bisexual. There is, however, someone else that cares. The prof of your class on PTSD and trauma. Professor Barnes. Written for: @fanfictionaries & @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan‘s challenges. Warnings: Financial Instability, not beta read.

Professor Sugar Masterlist // Masterlist

Books & Coffee

You sat in the student café next to the building Mr. Barnes held his classes in. An hour is what he said. An hour on your phone and staring up at coffee prices that were worth multiple instant noodle packs. Last semester you could sometimes indulge in a cup of coffee if something was left at the end of a month. Now that you were one job down that wasn‘t a possibility anymore unless you had an absolute reason to celebrate or were seriously down.

„I see you‘re doing your homework.“ You heard and looked up at your favorite professor. „Yeah. It feels weird not doing anything.“ You commented and let your fingernails clack on your phone case. „You could read a book.“ He suggested and sat down on one of the chairs. „I don‘t really have the concentration for that and audiobooks are too expensive.“ You shrugged and started playing with the hem of your shirt. „The library has a lot of their books as audiobooks. In case you didn‘t know.“ He continued suggesting. „Yeah, but it‘s mostly the boring stuff. I want some true crime or deeply researched investigative journalism.“ You smiled a little awkward, thinking about your oddly specific book interests. „Oh, that‘s your type of thing, huh?“ He grinned and took note of how your interests connected perfectly to the field you studied. „I have this really cool book on my list about the Pentagon and how it works. $35 for the audiobook. Nobody can tell me the government doesn‘t want the less stable to stay unstable.“ You got a little political. „$35 you say?“ You heard and looked up from the café menu you had been spinning around. Confusion clearly written across your face, „Yeah.“ „How about you write a B+ or better on the first test and I get you your book?“ He smiled over at you and made you blink in disbelief. „I can‘t take th-“ „Yes, you can. I‘d buy any student a book if they wanted one.“ He held out his hand to you. „Fine.“ You shook his hand, „But it‘s on you if this isn‘t allowed, Mr. Barnes.“ „Promise.“ And with that sweet smile he was all the way over by the counter, ordering a black coffee. *Cute Prof just told me he‘d buy me a book on my reading list if I land a B+ or better!* You texted Samantha a little nervous about the whole thing. *Academic sugar daddy!!!!* Was the only message coming back. *Of course, your mind goes there.* You sent back while rolling your eyes.

And like that you went and studied harder than ever for that course. Having a professor that actually felt like he believed in you made quite a difference. After every lesson you went and showed him your neatly organized study notes from the previous lesson and every time you got a thumbs up or a good suggestions from him. You looked at study accounts and tried to emulate their notes so you had more fun studying and you regularly watched „study with me“ videos to keep yourself going on the bad days. The other courses were still hard, but you knew you wouldn‘t have to be as concerned about them compared to Barnes‘ class.

After a few weeks the first test came around and you felt prepared and motivated...until you got the results back. „B-“ He handed the paper to you with an almost apologizing smile. „Fuck.“ What did that mean for the rest of the year if you already were so under average in the first test? „Hey, it‘s alright. I saw how much you worked your butt off. You‘re trying.“ He said encouragingly. „Apparently not hard enough.“ You mumbled and walked out of the classroom under worried eyes. How was it so hard for you to learn about trauma and then put it onto paper in a test? You really liked the topic too, so why didn‘t it feel easy to you?

You went into the coffee shop, mind kinda clouded and ready to just plop into bed. But instead, you decided to order a drink. „A caramel macchiato, please.“ You got out a little more depressed than intended. „Make that two.“ A familiar voice said behind you. You turned around to see your professor again, „It‘s on me.“ „Miste-„ „I said what I said, put your money away.“ He grinned and you rolled your eyes while putting your wallet away. Was he like this to everyone? Damn it, this is why you should be more social with people in courses you‘re in!

A few moments later you were sitting on your usual table with him across from you. „Found your Goodreads account. And a few others‘ in the class. Why do my students keep using their full name as nicknames? Whatever. I saw the book you mentioned last time. Pulitzer, huh?“ He smiled impressed. „Yeah, and she reads her audiobooks herself. Super calming voice.“ You drifted off a bit until you saw him take something out of his wallet. A card that he slid over to you. „An Amazon gift card...Mister B-“ „-I said in the first lesson, you all can call me Bucky.“ He grinned. „That‘s too much. A coffee? Fine. But this?“ You raised a brow and pointed at the card. „I‘ve seen your hard work and you‘ll finish on time if you keep working like that.“ He gave you a proud smile. „I can‘t take that Bucky.“ You said again and it felt strangely good saying that name and it also felt good to hear out of your mouth. „Yes, you can. I‘m not taking it back.“ He held up his hands a bit with a dramatic face. „Fine“ You grumbled and put it in your worn off wallet. Your phone lit up, a screen with a few scratches was illuminated. *And? What‘s the grade?* *B-* *Fuck...but that‘s still way better than the C‘s and C-‘s you had last year.* He looked at you a little more. The only really nice thing you had was your iPad Pro with the Stylus. You constantly used it in his classes. The rest? He didn‘t see financial instability, but if he looked closer, like right now, he could see the little things. The old phone, the fact you never really get coffee here, the torn-up wallet, the old backpack you used for your study materials. „Can I ask what happened with your parents?“ He asked a little softer. „Came out as bisexual to them.“ You mumbled, staring at your coffee, shrugging lightly. „That‘s all?“ His eyebrow raised and he was surprised that this was everything to it. You nodded, „Wow.“ „Jup. Just don‘t know if my psyche would‘ve suffered less around those people, compared to living with my friend and barely paying rent.“ You commented on your weekly recurring thoughts. „I‘ll look into more potential study aids, alright? I know you‘re not the only one in the class with that problem. I hate to see that happen more and more.“ He frowned concerned. „You don‘t have to.“ You mumbled again, still holding onto your coffee. „Yes, I do. You keep studying. No reason why you should also have that on your mind all the time if I have more than enough time for it.“ He insisted. „Bucky?“ „Hm?“ His eyes went up and you were met with a glimpse of a puppy face. „Thank you. You do more than a professor needs to do.“ A big smile was interchanged before you brought out your iPad again and flipped open the case to reveal the keyboard. „How‘d you afford that handy thing?“ He pointed at it nonchalantly. „There are aids for digital study material, and tax benefits, so I took the opportunity that I saw.“ You grinned proudly. „I see you frowning every time that pen runs out of battery and you need to switch to typing with the pen attached to it.“ A wide grin was spread across his face. „Glad I‘m entertaining.“ God, why was it so easy to flirt with him? It shouldn‘t be so easy to flirt with him. „Well then, my office hours start soon. Tell me how the book is.“ He said standing up. „Will do.“ And he was out of the door.

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