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babygirl-riley · 10 months

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My Darkest Fairytale

“I never meant fall for you but I…was buried underneath and all that I could see was white.”

Warnings: Angst, trauma, fighting, internal battle, swearing, fluff

Masterlist OC

Masterlist Simon x Reader

Simon would never do this walk at 3 in the fucking morning, drenching, walking as fast as he could go. He messed up. The typical Ghost attitude, towards the only person he didn’t want to ever. You.

You were the light in the darkness for Simon. The one that would burn Ghost back a bit, eventually Ghost would win and build the wall higher. You were patient never pushed never begged. You would let him simmer alone until he was ready. Like a bloody toddler. But he knew you were the water in the deserts that would help him back up. Except a week ago. The mission was hard, lost tons of men due to it being a ambush. Soap almost being killed. Lost Price for a while. It was a nightmare.

Ghost knew you didn’t mean to, it was a mistake. You accidentally walked in the bathroom as he was stitching himself up. He should have locked it but was caught up redoing the stitches Gaz did so it didn’t cross his mind. He slammed the door in her face, he heard the gasp but that didn’t stop him. “Fuck off!” He yelled at her.

After finishing you were in his bedroom. “I didn’t…”

“Yeah you didn’t.” He grumbled walking past you.

You sighed. “You know I can help sti …”

“No. No you can’t. I don’t need you. Or want you. Just fucking leave yeah?” He didn’t mean to say it that way. Simon even jumped from the sudden cold comment.

You stood up glaring at him. “Hm.” That’s all you said then walked out. Ghost followed you out right behind you. “Alright Simon.”

“Where ya going?” He asked a bit angry still, Simon tried to explain but couldn’t form the words.

“My apartment since you don’t need or want me here so I am leaving.” You said putting on your coat and shoes.

“Fine don’t come crawling back then.” Ghost snapped looking at you, watching your face drop. He didn’t mean that.

You chuckled the cold one when you thought something was outrageous and hurtful. “Yeah sure Simon.”

And with that and the slammed front door you were gone. Ghost stood there for a moment gathering what happened then threw the med kit he had in his hand. One year. One year and he still never opened up with the scars the trauma. Hell when they have sex he makes sure he wears a shirt and barely any pants.

He paced biting his nails (a bad habit of his when he is stressed.) He didn’t know how to deal with this. The…opening up part, the part where you got to see the gritty dirty bloody mess that he is. You are patient and willing not to ask those questions about family, his job.

The rain kept hitting as it started to hit harder and more. He scanned the area and stood in front of the stairs that led to your flat. What was he doing? He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t need to invade into your life. It’s been a week since you both last spoke, since that night. But it’s been eating at him, messing with his mind, he missed your presence. It made him nauseous when you weren’t next to him in bed. It was quiet and lonely. Usually Ghost would be thrilled to have that quiet moment, with no one but him. But Simon. Man Simon was dying inside.

Simon was the one who decided at 3 AM was the best time to come to you. Simon was the one who would smell the pillow next to him noticing your scent was slowly leaving. Simon was the one who punished himself for even speaking to you the way he did. Simon was the one who craved you. Needed you. Loved…you.

He didn’t realize that he stepped up to the door and knocked. The noises that came up and opened the door slowly. “Simon?” You whispered, angrily he might add. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He stood there looking down in your eyes. You were beautiful, he loved looking at you just waking up, hair all over the place. Half lidded eyes. “I’m not good at this.” Is all he mustered looking at his boots.

You shifted looking at him. “No you are not,” you sighed, you stepped aside. “Come on.”

Simon took off his jacket and boots at the door as you walked to the kitchen. He stood at the doorway closing the door, what is he doing? He doesn’t know what to say or fucking do. Ridiculous. He was hesitant to walk forward until he heard you. “Which tea are you wanting?” She called out to you.

Simon’s limps unfroze as he took more steps into your flat and into the kitchen. His mind racing on how to begin, what to do, how to think. He couldn’t control all the emotions that slowly seeped through the cracks. Once he reached into the kitchen, you were heating a pot on the stove as you reached into the cabinet. Tippy toes and all. “You need help?” He asked walking around the island.

It didn’t shock you as he pressed his body against your back. Your light that he is addicted to. Like a moth to a flame. He could smell your scent, he loved you natural scent. It was a lavender smell. He brought down the tea that he wanted and you agreed you wanted the same. You both stood there for a moment, tension was in the air. Say something you bloody wanker. “I missed you.” He whispered grabbing your chin with his index and thumb. “So much.”

You leaned into his touch and sighed. “You hurt me Si.”

His heart felt like it got ripped out. He never ever wanted those words to leave your mouth. Simon would kill anyone for you and hurt anyone that dared to hurt you. Simon closed his eyes. “I-I know lovie,” His eyes looked back and forth into yours. “I didn’t mean that, I-Hm-I need you more than I ever thought I did.”

You looked down as you leaned into his chest. “You know I would never have walked in if you…if you were stitching yourself.”

Simon placed a hand on your head and brought you into a hug. “Y/N I know that. It was my bloody fault. I need…I want you to be able to help me with that,” You shifted to look up at him about to interject. “I have been trying not to open up to you cause all the things I have done or been through isn’t for the faint of heart. I don’t-I don’t want to scare you off. I don’t want to lose you…” He whispered the last part. He could feel his insides twist from forming the words. Just the week of you not being there killed him inside. Ghost trying to shield Simon as he hid from all the emotions. But Simon had to see you needed to. Like a moth to a flame.

Feeling that way scared him. No terrified him. But you. You were his light. His warm blanket. His safe place. It was time. “Simon.” You whispered, bringing his thought back into place. “You don’t have to if you don’t wan…”

Simon placed both of his hands up to your cheek. “I want to, it will be slowly but…” He started to stumble over his words and panic set in.

Ghost was about to take all the bits and pieces away, hauling Simon back into the hiding hole. If he opens up your dead. You’ll die because of him, you’ll end up like his mum and brother and…his thoughts froze feeling your hand on his covered cheek. The light shining and fighting the darkness that was slowly departing inside of him. “Take the time you need, it doesn’t need to be tonight. Take it day by day. Just don’t shut me out.” You said smiling at him. Brushing softly on his cheek.

He grabbed your hand and kissed it through his mask. “Yes ma’am.”

Simon looked down at you with adoration, with no worry, no anger. Just pure love. You never truly seen him like this, it made you fall even more in love with him. You realized that he is your darkest fairytale and you were his moth to the flame.

#SoundCloud #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #ghost #cod mw22 #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x y/n

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ozma914 · 4 months

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Song Parody: Stop the Snow

I posted this a few years ago, but it's about winter generally, which makes it an evergreen. So to speak. The funny thing is, within days of me deciding to rerun it, the snow started melting away. I should write a song about freezing rain, or fog.

I hate winter. Well, only if I have to go out in it, or pay for heating the house, or if it’s winter. Otherwise I don’t mind. Anyway, parody songs are only good if you’re familiar with the original, which in this case is “Let It Go” from Frozen. If you have kids of a certain age, you’ve not only heard it, you’re sick of it. (I’m not–but my kids are all grown up, and I’ve only seen the movie once.) If you haven’t heard it, here’s the song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QnN6glKaWdE Or see the original lyrics here:

I know what you’re thinking: “Why, Mark? Why?” Good question—I don’t even find it easy. But I present you with: “Stop the Snow”.

But ... I'm so cool!

The snow’s piled high almost to my thigh It’s so cold I want to scream No sign of spring salvation I’m stuck in a snow globe dream The wind howls through windows, bringing swirling snow inside Couldn’t keep it out, plastic sheets I tried Let the dog in, his frozen pee Is an icicle I never want to see My hands can’t feel—this weather blows Thanks to the snow Stop the snow, stop the snow Can’t get my car unstuck If I had enough dough I’d move away from all this yuck I know just what the forecasts say Get your storm rage on I’m stuck in my drive anyway. It’s funny how this temperature makes everything seem blue And if you don’t see the misery there’s something wrong with you. It’s time to go and break the ice To start the car, oh please play nice No lights, no juice, not to be rude I’m screwed

Stop the snow, stop the snow Just one day when it’s warm and dry Car won’t go in the snow Ice falls down from tears I cry Here I push in four foot drifts Till my hands freeze on … A patch of ice takes me to the ground Underneath the snow it’s all cold, dead and brown And one thought penetrates my frozen brain Summer’s not so bad—I don’t mind the rain Stop the snow, stop the snow My car’s buried in five foot drifts I can’t feel, my own toes I’ll never make it to my shift My hands are blue and my face is white I could use a lift

But the snow plow buries and passes by.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

Remember: Music makes the heart grow fonder, but reading builds the brain.

#weather #indiana #snow #parody song #parody #humor writing #humor #let it go #stop the snow #songs

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inevitablemoment · 5 months

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The Aquinnah Chronicles Playlist (so far-- will be updated)

i. a sorta fairytale (tori amos)

like a good book // i can't put this day back // a sorta fairytale with you

ii. the shoop shoop song [it's in his kiss] (linda ronstadt)*

does he love me? i wanna know // how can i tell if he loves me so?

iii. paper rings (taylor swift)

i like shiny things // but i'd marry you with paper rings

iv. dog days are over (florence + the machine)

happiness hit her like a train on a track // coming towards her, stuck still, no turning back

v. running up that hill [a deal with god] (kate bush)

if i only could // i'd make a deal with god // and get him to swap our places

vi. running up that hill [epic version] (samuel kim)

no lyrics

vii. romeo and juliet (dire straits)

the dice was loaded from the start // and i bet, when you exploded into my heart

viii. journey to the past (christy altomare)

heart, don't fail me now // courage, don't desert me // don't turn back now that we're here

ix. magic to do (patina miller, pippin 2013 revival cast)

journey, journey to a spot ex // 'citing, mystic and exotic // journey through our anecdote revue

x. corner of the sky (matthew james thomas)

so many men seem destined to settle for something small // but i won't rest until i know i'll have it all // so don't ask me where i'm going // just listen when i'm gone // and far away, you'll hear me singing softly to the dawn

xi. ocean away (barlow & bear, ft. darren criss)*

am i the one to blame // when we're dancing in the same room // but you're an ocean away

xii. shy (sarah jessica parker)

can't you guess // that this confident air // is a mask that i wear // 'cause i'm shy?

More under the cut

xiii. doll on a music box/truly scrumptious reprise (sally ann howes & dick van dyke)*

you cannot see // how much i long to be free // turning around on this music box // that's wound by a key

xiv. elaborate lives (adam pascal & heather headley)

we all live such elaborate lives // wild ambitions in our sights // how an affair of the heart survives // days apart and hurried nights

xv. feels like this (maisie peters)

uncover secrets // treasure hunting days away // stumbling on diamonds // i'm speechless and blown away

xvi. salvation (gabrielle aplin)

i never meant to fall for you // but i was buried underneath // and all that i could see was white

xvii. medicine (james arthur)

you're my bulletproof vest when it's getting dangerous // always make me feel blessed // you're my guardian angel

xviii. love alone (katelyn tarver)

it's on the line // i'm waiting for a sign // i see it in your eyes, i // i know you really feel the same

xix. another op'nin', another show (kiss me, kate 2019 cast)

another job that you hope, at last // will make your future forget your past // another pain where the ulcers grow

xx. shall we dance? (kelli o'hara & ken watanabe)

shall we dance? // on a bright cloud of music // shall we fly?

xxi. i'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair (kelli o'hara & ensemble)

don't try to patch it up // tear it up, tear it up // wash him out, dry him out // push him out, fly him out // cancel him and let him go

xxii. strangers like me (tammy tuckey)

i want to know // can you show me // i want to know about these strangers like me

xxiii. simple joys (patina miller)

sweet summer evenings // hot wine and bread // sharing your supper, sharing your bed // simple joys have a simple voice // that says "why not go ahead?"

xxiv. morning glow (matthew james thomas & ensemble)

morning glow all day long // while we sing tomorrow's song // never knew we could be so strong // but now it's very clear // morning glow is almost here

xxv. i won't say i'm in love (carrie hope fletcher)

if there's a prize for rotten judgement // i guess i've already won that // no man is worth the aggravation

xxvi. illicit affairs (taylor swift)

don't call me kid, don't call me baby // look at this godforsaken mess that you made me // you showed me colors you know I can't see // with anyone else

xxvii. you belong with me (taylor swift)

i remember you driving to my house // in the middle of the night // i'm the one who makes you laugh // when you know you're about to cry

*Version not available on Spotify

#Jaydia #Lydia x Jake #Lydia x Jacob #Lydia Graeme x Jake Keller #Lydia Graeme x Jacob Keller #The Aquinnah Chronicles #Lydia Graeme #Jacob Keller #Jake Keller #My Playlists #Writeblr #My Original Works

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clifford-hero · 2 years

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I never meant to fall for you but I

Was buried underneath and

All that I could see was white

My salvation

#salvation gabrielle aplin

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

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Cat Got Your Tongue

Chapter One

Master List / Series Master List

A/N: This series is set in the same world as Bare In The Woods (a one-shot were-bear Henry Cavill story). This series will be cross posted between Tumblr and AO3. As Tumblr has no way of preventing minors from reading the smutty bits (and there will be smutty bits) those chapters will only be available on AO3.

My archive work is available to Register Users Only. This means Yes, You Must Have An Account with Archive to read my work. If you'd like more information on how to acquire your Free archive account, please see this post. All you need is an email address to sign up. That's it. Just do it people.

Read on AO3 here!

Summary: The community of Salvation holds many secrets, not the least of which is the diversity of were-folk who call it home. Ember Porosha is one resident for who Salvation isn't just the town's name but her saving grace. After outrunning her past, she's resigned herself to playing surrogate to everyone else's children and never having her own. A mate was not in her future, and she was learning to live with that. Until he walked through the door of The Last Book and Brew.

Thomas Loki Hiddleston wasn't going to be in town long. Here for the naming of Henry and his wife's baby girl and presentation to the weres of Salvation, he planned only to stay a few days. A small town like this could never offer him the outlet he needed for his cat's dark desires, nor could he hide what he was for long. His nature would eventually need an outlet and Salvation held nothing for him. Or so he thought. One wiff of Ember's unique scent and he knew he'd found a long thought lost to him future.

But when she doesn't fall at his feet, and proves more stubborn than a mule, can he resit taking her in hand long enough to win her heart? Or will the bond between true mates not be enough to tame this wild hellcat.

Series warnings: Were-Creatures, Cats, Bears, Smut, Shameless Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dom/sub, Blood, Blood Kink, this one could (will) get kinky

***

When the sleek black car drove through town, Ember gave it only a passing glance. It was odd, sure, but anyone who drove a Jag was so far out of her league they were playing on a different ball diamond altogether. The car screamed money, something she cared little about.

Sure she needed it, everyone did, but Ember was content with what she had, and in this sleepy town cradled lovingly between the mountains, she didn't need much. She had her sweet yellow cottage, her bookstore, and a community of friends when she desired company. And now, with the snow falling thick on the ground, she would have another singular pleasure.

Ember's little snow leopard heart leapt at the thought of running through the high passes and sliding down the long slopes, her wide paws keeping her above the snowpack instead of sinking in while her thick coat kept out the cold. It had been too long since she'd last played in her were form, and was looking forward to going out to the ranger station in a few days to visit with Henry, his wife, and their little cub.

The sweet baby girl already had Henry wrapped firmly around her finger, and Ember couldn't help but laugh at the goofy smile that perpetually graced his face when he looked at his family.

If a pang of jealousy jabbed her heart, Ember didn't let it show. She'd resigned herself to a lonely life a long time ago.

The bell over the door of her little shop gave a merry jingle, and she placed the last of the new James Patterson novels on the shelf before dusting off her hands and stepping out from behind the bookshelves to smile at Lorraine, the town's most gossipy raven.

If she was fluttering into The Last Book and Brew, then Ember was about to hear an earful.

***

Tom swept into the charming inn and forced himself to smile at the woman behind the desk. He'd spent a miserable six hours on the road, driven through a blizzard, and killed his cellphone when he'd dropped it in an icy puddle two hours prior as he'd filled the car with petrol. But there was no alternate way to get to Salvation, buried deep in the mountains, except to drive.

And Salvation was where he needed to be.

His old friend, Henry, was celebrating the birth of his first cub, and Tom dropped everything to come and see the little darling Henry was blessed with. And to meet the woman who'd tamed the giant bear after all this time. Sadly, he'd been unable to attend their wedding, but he refused to miss the welcoming of a new were into the community, whether he belonged to the Salvation clan or not.

That didn't mean he wouldn't give Hen the gears for choosing to live in some backwater nowhere even if it was beautiful here.

Still, Tom preferred the city for its indulgences and entertainments. No, he couldn't fall on all fours and run through the concrete jungle he called home, but he'd long come to terms with his destiny. It wasn't as if there was a panther out there waiting to run under the moonlight with him.

He was going to be a lone cat, a bachelor. He'd resigned himself to it, for no matter what anyone said, no one - were or human - had ever submitted wholly to his dark desires and chosen to stay in his possession afterward. They were all far too soft for his liking, ending in no more than a one-and-done.

At least, he could stalk the clubs and play with those unaware of his darkest needs and wants in the city. Tom was not a Dom to be denied, and those who gave in to the allure of his pretty face soon learned all about the devil underneath his Gucci suit.

"Hello, darling," he purred to the desk clerk. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, checking in. I believe I have a reservation."

She blushed to the roots of her hair, sputtered, and nodded. "Of-of course, sir. If-if you'll sign a few things and put your card on file, I can get you situated on your back- In your room!" she corrected, staring at her hands.

Tom couldn't hide his smile, but he swallowed his laughter. It was always the same. The sweet little birds flocked to him, but they had no idea a predator was stalking them.

He went through the incidentals, signed her documents, collected his key and listened intently when she told him about the room, breakfast, the restaurant, spa, and pool. His ears perked up at the last. He did enjoy a refreshing swim.

"And if you fancy something other than regular coffee or black tea, there is The Last Book and Brew just down the street. Ember makes the best scones and tea."

"Does she now?" he murmured, eyeing Irene - her name on a little plaque pinned to her chest - as she handed him back his credit card. "Perhaps I'll check in on it. A cuppa does sound delightful." The drive had been long, and tea might be just the pick-up he needed before calling round to Henry's.

He nodded to Irene and headed for the stairs instead of the elevator. Three floors were nothing for his long legs, the exertion minimal, as he hiked to the third floor and down to the end where he fit the old-fashioned key into the antique lock and pushed open the door.

Tom was pleasantly surprised to find a mixture of well-kept antiques and modern furnishings decorating the space. While the bed and mattress were new and covered with clean, white duvet and sheets, the dresser - upon which sat a television - was a heavy mahogany buffet with curved Queen Anne legs. The bathroom was a revolution of modern plumbing though a cast iron tub stood on clawed feet beside a glass shower big enough for two. Gilt framed mirrors hung above dual vanities into which water poured from brushed gold fixtures.

It was all very romantic with its old-world charm though the inn was showing its age. Wallpaper lifted at the edges, millwork was chipped and rubbed in places, and a few of the lovely old tiles on the floor in the bathroom were cracked. But with the likely age of the building, it wasn't so surprising. If the gorgeous stone building weren't at minimum a century, he would eat his scarf.

She could be an absolute beauty with effort and enough money. Yes, he would be comfortable here for a time. The Salvation Inn would suit him.

Tom made his way to the windows that looked out on Salvation's main street. The road was a mess of dirty snow, sanded and salted for ease of travel, but the thick white flakes floating down turned the quaint replica gas street lights into white-topped monuments of winter. Storefronts glowed with welcoming light, still running their Autumn displays, creeping toward American Thanksgiving. The commercialization of Christmas had yet to appear, giving everything a cheerful, colourful cast he found pleasing to his senses.

Cars moved without hurry, mimicking the people coming and going about their business. Everyone was bundled up, but no one seemed to mind the cold and the snow. To be expected, he supposed. They lived in the mountains where snow fell early and lasted late.

As his gaze traversed the lane, his attention landed on The Last Book and Brew and caused him to tilt his head, intrigued. Unlike the other traditional storefronts with their brick faces and colourful awnings, gold filigree writing on wooden signs, the little bookstore had a distinctly different feel to it.

The door, window frames, and brickwork that accented the front of the building were painted a shiny, deep black. There was no awning but three stunning lanterns hung above the windows on wrought iron arms, beautifully curved like the elegant lines of a woman's body. A sign in the same black iron hung perpendicular to the door. Shaped like a shield or some family crest, the words The Last Book and Brew glowed crimson outlined in gold, while a raven of the same black iron sat guard, casting judgement on all who entered. Red velvet mounded in the windows, lovingly cradling the displayed books like sacrificial offerings.

Someone knew what they were doing, for that was the sexiest storefront Tom had ever seen.

Utterly enchanted and desperate to see if the interior matched the exterior, he left his leather valise unpacked on the bed, pocketed his key, and headed for the door.

Irene looked up as he passed her, but Tom paid the clerk little mind. He was on a mission, a hunt now, needing to discover the answer to the mystery of just who this Ember of Last Book and Brew was that she could create with such aplomb a store so alluring.

There was no wind when he trotted down the inn's exterior stairs and out into the snowfall. Traffic was light, so he crossed mid-street, avoiding puddles and snowbanks in an attempt to keep the Italian leather of his shoes dry while large flakes of falling snow collected in his dark ginger locks. He reached the door and admired the ornate handle before opening the door into another world.

Tom stepped inside and stared in amazement. He'd never thought a bookstore could be moody, but this one certainly was. The floors were highly polished ebony wood that led into dark railings which spiralled past the sunken first-floor cafe up a short flight of stairs toward the bookstore beyond.

He admired the cobblestone floor in the cafe, again shiny with polish, sealed he suspected to make cleanup easier. Upon them sat a virtual Mad Hatter's Tea Party of chairs, all shapes and sizes separated by wrought iron tables topped with glass. And though the chairs were unique in shape, they matched for colour, upholstered as they were in the blood-red and black brocade that turned them into a sexy indulgence he prayed were as comfortable as they looked.

And hung above it all, like a lady's magnificent fascinator, was a chandelier worthy of the name. Clearly electric, it appeared to drip ropes of black jewels and crystals as long as his palm, lit by three dozen candles that flickered with faux flames. It was spectacular.

Beyond, the cafe counter, like a walnut dream, appeared to be a repurposed and rehabbed saloon bar where elegant scrollwork on a pristine chalkboard announced the daily specials. He could see the cakes and pastries in their glass case, and while his stomach rumbled to remind him of the last meal he'd eaten, Tom was too enthralled with the decadence of the store to allow himself to be led by his nose when a small sign at the foot of the stairs requested no food past that point.

Another small sign asked him to wipe his feet, which he did without thought, before heading up the short but wide curved stairwell to the second floor into the fantasy world of someone's most magnificent mind.

He felt guided by the hand of a fae as he wound his way through ebony bookcases over hardwood floors, beneath more hanging lanterns and delicate chandeliers. The soft white of all the lights allowed him to read titles and leaf through pages without feeling as if the overhead lights would eventually dry out his eyes or buzz their annoyance through his brain. Every so often, he came upon stands of lightly scented candles, or soaps, or lotions made with all-natural products and tingling with the lightest touch of were-magic, causing Tom to look at the store with deeper senses.

The corners and cardinal points of the space had crystal wards, he realized, and the soft pulse of benevolent magic left him at ease. Whoever this Ember was, she bid all who came to her sanctuary welcome.

Even more intrigued than before, Tom found his way toward the counter where voices spoke in hushed tones, intent on finding the owner and congratulating her on the sensual, slightly erotic nature of her store. It left him breathless in a way that was hard for him to come by, and yet even as it pulled at his dark, seductive nature, he knew a family could come into such a place and find it magical, like falling into the rabbit hole of a dark Alice fantasy.

"That's nice, Lorraine, but I don't think Henry would approve of you gossiping about his friend."

Tom stopped in his tracks. Warm brandy and velvet bled over his senses, stroking straight through him to the soul of his cat. The panther purred and preened, wanting the owner of that voice to pet him and whisper words of seduction in his ear.

"Poppycock! Some big-city fella isn't going to care if we mountain folk talk about him."

Ugh, raven. He'd know that grating tone anywhere.

"Besides, he's some fancy lawyer or something," the raven, Lorraine, continued. "I'm sure he's used to people talking about him."

"It is still impolite."

Tom shivered, eyes half-lidding. He had to roll his head, stretching his neck to keep from sprouting fur. What he wouldn't give for one night with the owner of that voice.

Never one to hide in the face of scrutiny, Tom glided out from behind the bookshelf and smiled at the two women. "Actually, I run hotels."

The raven eeped and jumped, spinning to face him. She was older than he'd suspected, her dark hair thoroughly saturated with grey though her eyes remained clear brown orbs. The other, oh, the other, he could not help but stare.

Her face was the kind that would make angels weep with sharp, classic features, high cheekbones and a pointed chin like a sweet little fox. Her big eyes widened in surprise, showing off the shocking green, so pale and light they were almost neon when the light caught them. The heavy fall of thick curls that slipped from her shoulder left his mouth dry with the desire to sink his fingers into the mass that started black at the root and faded into tones of silver and dark grey, hinting at patterns like small rosettes.

A sleek, lithe body lovingly caressed by a sweater of raspberry wool and leggings of black knit glided out from behind the cash desk, her steps silent in small silver ballet flats. "Mr. Hiddleston?"

"Indeed," he purred, accepting her hand when she offered it. He captured it between both of his rather than shaking it as presented and held it lightly. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, at your service, love. My friends call me Tom."

"Ember Porosha. Welcome to Salvation and The Last Book and Brew." She tilted her head, causing all that lovely hair to slide to the opposite shoulder. "Henry speaks highly of you."

"Mm," he chuckled, adjusting his grip to lightly press his thumb into the palm of her hand as he brought her knuckles to his lips. "Brags, does he?"

"Terribly," she agreed with a smile.

Tom smirked and pressed his lips to her skin. He inhaled and went rigid. That scent, the sweet smell of pine and snow somehow laced with the delicate notes of summer dreams, drowned him, flooding his lungs until he was sure he would never be able to breathe again without breathing in Ember's delectable fragrance.

She tried to retrieve her hand. Tom growled, low and deep, more a purr than a reprimand, and opened eyes he knew would glow green with his cat.

"Well, hello, pet," he smiled. "It seems I was wrong." He wasn't destined to be alone after all.

Sharp claws latched into his hands. "I've no desire to start anything with you, true mate or not."

He dropped her hands and brought his to his mouth to catch the blood seeping from the minor wounds. "We will see about that."

She hissed at him.

Tom threw his head back and laughed before gliding into her personal space and threading his fingers into her hair. "Spit all you like, little kitten. I always get what I want."

"I think it's time you left, Mr. Hiddleston," Ember growled, her hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"Tea first," he smirked. "I'm gagging for a cuppa. Haven't had a decent one all day!" He stroked the silvery strands before letting them fall through his fingers. "Is your coat just as soft, Kitten?"

She glared daggers at him. "Leave."

He chuckled but stepped back, practically able to see her tail flick in anger. "Until later then, Ember."

***

He turned on his heels and sauntered away, leaving her seething behind him. How dare he. How dare he! How dare he assume such liberties when they'd only just met. When it was clear he was only passing through and would leave nothing but devastation in his wake.

"How dare he!" she hissed and stormed toward the back of the store to her office to calm down, forgetting Lorraine was still there.

Ember didn't slam the door, knowing he was still in the store, and she'd be damned before she gave him that much power over her. She would not be brought to heel like some… some… Kitten!

She growled a low sound and clenched her fists, determined to get control of herself and that snow leopard rolling like a damn hussy inside her.

She'd smelt him the moment he'd stepped beyond the books—dark spice and leather, mandarin and rosewood, with notes of cinnamon and vanilla. Ember's mouth watered with the desire to taste his skin and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

"No," she said firmly. Her cat scoffed. "He won't stay here. He's a big city panther, and we will never go back." She was determined to live alone, be alone because she was safer that way.

Salvation was, well, their salvation. When she was most desperate for a new start and a place to hide from her past, Salvation was there with open arms, and an established were community.

Her cat settled down with the reminder and left her alone to pick up the phone.

Ember dialed the number by heart and waited for them to answer. "Hey, Henry, it's Ember. About tonight. Something has come up… I'm… not going to make it."

Next Chapter

#cat got your tongue #hiddleston au #Thomas Loki Hiddleston #were creatures

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multi-maker · 3 years

Text

— barbatos

everyone seems to forget that he was still an archon - he survived the dreadful archon war and has slain gods after gods, destroyed cities after cities.

so when his old enemy rises, and the snow of dragonspine falls on mondstadt, venti sheds his bard persona and he summons his golden war bow he hasn’t wielded in decades.

when durin rises, barbatos does as well.

note. i like to think of venti being powerful and only letting the cryo archon get her way - i refuse to think he’s weak - he’s literally one of the original archons, and mondstadt is huge as well. that means venti has fought gods over dominance in his territory !! so have this ehe~! this can also be part two of my venti beating la signora hehe~ here’s part one!

Mondstadt is burning.

The city is aflame, smoke rising in tall columns as the skies above them darkened. Cries of agony and pleads for help was a hellish symphony in the City of Freedom. The Acting Grand Master with Master Ragnvidr, the Cavalry Captain, Outrider Amber, and the Knights’ very own Honorary Knight stood by the entrance of Mondstadt.

They were losing.

They were spent and tired - Fatigued and wounded so deeply that even Jean could not help them in their wounded state. Their limbs ached, visions burning, and their eyes and throat hurt because of all the smoke around them. Their weapons were drawn but they had no more strength to fight back.

Their enemy was before them, looming and large as the black dragon descended upon Mondstadt once again.

“...We are losing.” Diluc states in a weary voice, ruby eyes streaked with helplessness yet anger as he leans against his claymore. His cloak was long discarded, leaving him in his vest. “State the obvious more, will ya?” Kaeya retorted, but there was no bite in his voice. Diluc merely shoots him a glare for his words.

“M-Master Jean, what do we do?” Paimon’s shrill voice pierced the tense atmosphere as their enemy circled Mondstadt, eyes wide with worry and concern as they help up the Traveler who tried to purify Durin, but was sent crashing on the ground harshly.

For once, the Dandelion Knight had no answer.

“...I have no idea, Paimon.” Jean responded quietly, blue eyes dark with worry and anger as she clutches her sword. “Durin is powerful - an ancient enemy comparable to even Lord Barbatos. It took Dvalin and Lord Barbatos to best him but none of us come close to their power.” Jean explains, heaving. “What do we do? Lord Barbatos is nowhere to be found!” Amber cries out, eyes wide with fear.

Diluc commended the young Outrider for stepping up as their main attacker. Her abilities in gliding far surpassed the Traveler and her bow came in handy. She was young yet full of potential.

Jean was silent, as well as the traveler. They both knew Barbatos was alive and well, prancing around Teyvat since he did not govern his own land. They knew the best course of action was to call for him, for Venti, but how could they when they did not even know where he was?

“The wind shall carry your wishes no matter how far, dear Jean.”

The group freezes at the chime of a voice that seemingly rang all around them, giving them hope, providing them that there may be salvation. They all turned around, seeing the person Mondstadt needed the most.

The Anemo Archon.

Jean could never fanthom how Venti the bard was the Archon she worshipped all her life. He was so playful and cunning, a drunkard at best, and someone who was almost always broke. Yet whenever Mondstadt needed it’s protector, whenever Mondstadt could not fight back, Venti the Bard becomes Barbatos, the Anemo Archon.

And right now, she was not looking at Venti the Bard.

She was looking at Barbatos.

She paid no attention to Amber’s surprised yelps, to Diluc’s “Took you long enough, Bard.”, to Kaeya’s contemplatative hum, nor to the Traveler’s quiet exclamation of their name.

Seeing Venti - Rather, Barbatos in his Archon form was truly mesmerizing. She remembers the first time she saw him, when La Signora threatened Mondstadt and attempted to steal his Gnosis, only to be bested and defeated by Venti after she hurt the Traveler badly.

White wings unfurled from behind him, the teal tips in his hair glowed as his eyes seemingly twinkled. Barbatos floated aimlessly, aquamarine eyes staring at his ancient enemy.

“Ah, what a catastrophe this is. For my old enemy to rise once again, how persistent he really is.” He commented off handedly, as if he did not care that the city behind him was burning.

Jean knew better.

She was an Anemo vision holder so her connection with the wind was better than most. When Venti arrived, Jean felt the winds become harsher and deadlier, whipping around them in a terrifying show of power as his eyes glowed eerily.

He holds his hand out, and the lyre he frequently carries becomes into a golden war bow with aqua accents and a seemingly holy glow to it. The feathers in his wings ruffled at the winds he suddenly summoned as the cecilia’s in his hair danced along the powerful tempest he commanded.

And it was so easy to forget that this same boy before her, eyes glowing eerily and a golden war bow in hand, was the same bard who sung ballads and accepted wine as payment. A cheeky and talented bard who Mondstadt adored. That this boy has slain Gods and buried them underneath Mondstadt soil. That this boy has commanded armies as well, leading Mondstadt to a path of victory during the dreadful Archon War all those years ago.

It was so easy to forget when you knew he drowned alcohol in a terrifying speed, when he slept under tree’s and relied on his songs to profit.

“Rest, my children. For your Archon will not forsake you.” He speaks softly, as he floats even higher. Anemo energy materialized in the air as tall and destructive tornado’s were summoned to his side. “I have heeded your calls and your pleads, and my children will be slaughtered no more.” His voice grew dark and angry, his eyes glinting as he wields a war bow he hasn’t used in decades.

Whenever he joined the traveler in their journey to find their lost sibling, not once has he used this bow. This bow that has slain Gods over territory and safety for his people. He used the bow the Traveler gifted to him, but he knew that bow will not be able to handle his divine power. It will break under his divine power.

“Durin, cease your attacks at once and perhaps I will grant mercy.” He speaks, eyes glinting as the winds around him sharpened, heading for the black dragon. “A fool, Barbatos! You are weak and feeble, I will not have any difficulties in removing you from your place The dragon sneers, but Barbatos merely lets out a laugh that sent shivers down his peoples’ spine.

“Weak and feeble! How foolish, Durin.” He sneers as he loaded his bow with three arrows. “Have you forgotten who sealed you in that cold mountain?” He taunts as his eyes glowed even further, as he regains the power he used to have before he fell into deep slumber. Durin lets out a snarl at the reminded, red eyes glinting mercilessly.

“You have chosen to burn Mondstadt, the freedom my people fought to achieve,” He lowly says, as the winds he used to cut down mountains became even more powerful. “I do not care if you are powerful - I will not let the hardwork of my people go to waste for such insolence,” Barbatos sneers as he pulls his bow.

“You chose to fight me, dear Durin,” Barbatos says in a chime, and the tempest he commanded headed for the black dragon.

“And I choose to make sure you will no longer wake.”

#💫 dawn #genshin impact #genshin impact venti #genshin barbatos #genshin impact scenario #genshin impact barbatos #genshin impact jean #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact amber #genshin diluc #genshin jean #genshin amber #genshin impact traveler

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gcuienveres · 2 years

Text

who: @falcxnking where: the vale lodgings, follow the second death of king rowan arryn, first of his name

A veiled figure in black silks had remained stood beside the casket of the late King for what felt like hours; hands clasped before her, though they were not clutched in desperation, but in acceptance; as the Knights of the Vale stood vigil around the drapes of navy and silver. The room was dark, and candles burned; soon they would prepare to send Rowan Arryn to rest, thoroughly this time.

She prayed the second time would hurt less, and yet, it was this time she would finally look upon his face; her tears were silent beneath her veil as she muttered her prayers, prayers that the love of her life would find some peace and some rest, all he had never had in life.

There was much Guinevere Lannister had learned from Rowan Arryn, most of all being that love was not something that was easy; it was not as easy as it was in the ballads and the poems, those ballads and poems that never spoke on the growing distance between a man and his wife once the drama and the theatrics were over. Once the wars had been won, once the wedding had been done - what then?

Her ladies and attendants remained by the walls and by the doors, and her eyes burned and blurred as she thought of the small piece of him the Gods had blessed her with before taking him away; the son that had been born with his dark orbs and even his freckles. Her hand reached out to gently touch her husband’s freckles now, and a broken smile came across her lips as she remembered being so captivated by them the first time she laid eyes upon him.

How she had never imagined him to have freckles, in all their years; how she knew his handwriting, but never knew his face.

They were such different people, herself and Rowan Arryn - and no doubt they were different in regards to what they would have done now. She could almost feel him beside her, his hand on the small of her back, urging her to be strong; to stand by their son as he took his place on the throne and secure his safety. But she did not want that; she did not want her son upon the Mountain throne.

It was a land where his name alone would see him butchered on his own roads; a name that held much weight, but held much risk too. And that was not his true name, in the end, was it? The Gods knew this; she could not continue to test them, not when he was gone. Not lest their fury turn to her son, the only piece of him she had left; Jasper need not be King to be special to those who mattered. She needed him close to her; she could not leave him amongst the mountains if she was on the ground, within the grasses of the lions.

Jasper was a Lannister. He was no Arryn. The Gods knew this. She could only pray they would understand and accept her sins, and the lies she would continue to tell, for the sake of love. The things she did for love.

The young falcon had approached her, and she turned to look upon him; his face was darkened, no doubt disturbed by all that had happened. His own family had been ripped apart, and if the rumours were true, then he too nearly found himself dead by the hands of his own blood; if it were not for the Hand of the King. He needed to secure himself, secure his reign; it would make it all so much easier for him. She did not lift her veil as she spoke to him.

“My son is not of Arryn blood.”

And so she chose to damn and curse herself; knowing entirely how her words sounded, what assumption one would make of her. She would fall from grace time and time again for those she had sworn herself to, even in their death. Should she call him brother still? Were they still family? How did this work?

“Do with that what you must to secure yourself.”

#c: rhys #rhys 002 #here we go pain #memories from the top of the world ; how many lives will you live until you've had enough?#constant as the stars above; always know that you are loved. (guinevere&jasper)#i was buried underneath and all that i could see was white ... my salvation my my (rowan&jasper)#right now i need you here ; to remind me where i came from and where i belong...are you with me? (rhys&guinevere)#god this is an essay i am so sorry pls do not match length iuhewhfur.#i had muse and context was needed

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earlgreymon · 3 years

Text

the sea of everything we had; a kenkari playlist for lovers who ride the wave up and down. (youtube / spotify)

01. life - sleeping at last we will show you the oceans, and everything in between 02. i don't wanna be alone tonight - daniel toh won’t somebody, somebody hear my scream? 03. easy - hunter parrish into our arms we take it all, baby we watch our kingdom fall 04. we're in this together now - loving caliber i'll keep you safe, i'll give you my everything, even if we're falling down 05. love is in the picture - jamie cullum i'll breathe you until you feel that maybe you're not alone 06. lay down your weapons - elijah n feat. phawn i'll be your safe house, i'll face your fears 07. i'm here - sweet talk radio you’ve been drifting lately and you think you have to go it alone, but you don’t 08. oceans - seafret we hide our emotions under the surface and tryin' to pretend 09. salvation - gabrielle aplin i was buried underneath and all that i could see was white bonus tracks: don't you worry - oh wonder it's us against the world

part 4 of lovers in japan series for @digiweek day 3 / music // track-by-track commentaries;

yep i put two entries for digiweek this day.

the formula for kenkari is simple: the ocean. however, for this playlist, there's a bit of angst background. i always imagine that if ken and hikari are a couple, they will often fight; not only fight between the two of them but also more often with their own selves because they constantly feel they're so destructive that they're going to crush their lover.

also, this can be a companion to my kenkari fic.

01. life - sleeping at last

indeed this is a song about the birth of a girl. but for me, in some ways, this can be ken's first impression when he met hikari with her light and perfection. meeting hikari was a chance for ken to change to become a better man and to live a life outside the darkness finally.

02. i don't wanna be alone tonight - daniel toh

still and all, even after he met hikari, ken still struggled with the darkness inside. he's very afraid and he didn't want to be left alone in it, so he screamed for help.

03. easy - hunter parrish

i have to insert hunter parrish's song somewhere on my mixtape series ken also couldn't help but feel afraid sometimes. he was afraid that he would easily destroy everyone he loved, including hikari.

04. we're in this together now - loving caliber

...but the thing that ken often forget was that he had someone now. that hikari was with him. so hikari wanted to let him know that they're in this together now, so it's okay to show her everything inside him, including his darkness.

05. love is in the picture - jamie cullum

hikari was trying to convince ken that everything is different when love is already within the reach. if you love someone, you will help them without a doubt, and there was no need for ken to reject such supports.

06. lay down your weapons - elijah n feat. phawn

yes, it is a song from hikari to ken, asking him to just calm down with the battle and know that she'd be there for him. however, this is a song from ken to hikari also because as i mentioned above, hikari was struggling with so many conflict inside.

07. i'm here - sweet talk radio

isn't it obvious that they'd be there each other's biggest supporter?

08. oceans - seafret

i love this song. it's about two people loving each other, but it feels like there is something between them (the literal meaning is actually a long distance relationship). for me, even though they had loved each other dearly, they couldn't help but feel insecure sometimes, as if there's an ocean between them (...maybe literally? dark ocean?)

09. salvation - gabrielle aplin

they were not an ideal couple. they knew that. if they could choose anyone else to love, maybe they would. but they were too caught up in darkness and already found each other as saviour, so be it.

bonus track: don't you worry - oh wonder

...and in the end, i want to close this mixtape with a sweet tone. that despite every darkness and fading lights, they shouldn't be worried because it's them against the world now.

#digimon #digiweek2021 #by me #digiloversinjapan #the only day with 2 submissions from me #i'm the mod; go easy on me T_T #this is more indie compare to others...#ken ichijouji #hikari yagami #kenkari #digimusic

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julemmaes · 3 years

Text

A Nessian Playlist

for my sweetie @highladyofthefangirlcourt

1. Kindly Calm Me Down – Meghan Trainor

When my world gets loud, could you make it quiet down?

When my head, it pounds, could you turn down all the sound?

If I lay in pain, by my side would you stay?

This song is the one song that I just can’t listen to without thinking of Nesta begging Cassian to stay, to help her, to just lay by her side when everything becomes too much and her thoughts overwhelming. This is the song I’ll be reading the entirety of ACOSF with cause it screams Nessian to me and I’ve been listening to this for years hoping for their book to hurry the fuck up and to know this will also be the song I’ll be listerning when they first kiss, when they first declare their love to each other and when they first fuck it’s soothing for me.

2. By Your Side – Tenth Avenue North

And please don't fight these hands that are holding you

My hands are holding you

3. Hearts – Jesse Ware

Too proud to it say, and I let you leave straight out of spite

And now I'm missing you, sometimes I wish you missed me too

Maybe you do, I'm hoping, but you're too proud to say it too

4. So Far Away – Mary Lambert

I don't need a map

To tell me where you are

You and I, we come from the same star

The lyrics “kiss me like the world is gonna disappear” in the chorus just hits me so fucking hard every time. And it brings me back to the war, when they’re about to die in each others arms and the only thing they can do is kiss, cause their world is about to end – to disappear.

5. Salvation – Gabrielle Alpin

I never meant to fall for you but I was buried underneath and all that I could see was white

6. Walk Me Home – P!nk

There's something in the way I wanna cry

That makes me think we'll make it out alive

So come on and show me how we're good

7. August – Sam Weber

Oh my darling

I’m feeling like a burn out

I’m lost in a maze that I can’t get out of

8. Black Holes – The Blue Stones

I'm still alive beneath the rubble

A wretched soul in a sea of trouble

9. Back To You – WILD

You’re the one thing I can’t stand to lose

I’m gonna follow my heart back to you

If it’s the last thing I do

10. Love In The Dark – Adele

It feels like we're oceans apart

There is so much space between us

Baby, we're already defeated

11. Just My Soul Responding – Amber Run

But every day

I found new ways to hurt you

But every day

We took our signs

12. The Funeral – Band Of Horses

I'm coming up only to hold you under

I'm coming up only to show you wrong

The melody in the beginning of the song makes me hold my breath every single fucking time and when it drops and the drums start and the singer just screams the lyrics, it snaps something in me and I know that I won’t be able to feel the same for any other song – same for Nessian. The second their lips will touch again, my heart will snap and stop for a second, starting right after with pumping speed and it’ll feel like I can’t keep up, like I have to run to grasp what they’re feeling. I think I won’t be able to process, to fully elaborate they’re kissing each other until the kiss ends – until the song comes to the abrupt stop that marks the end of it.

13. Wide Eyed – Billy Lockett

No morning cries. I can't pretend. It's not the end.

14. Cosmic Love – Florence + The Machine

Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too, so I stayed in the darkness with you

15. In My Veins – Andrew Belle

Everything will change

Nothin' stays the same

And nobody here's perfect

Oh but everyone's to blame

16. I’m Your Sacrifice – Ozark Henry

Got no cards up my sleeve, nothing under my hat

The moment of truth, there's no going back

17. Say You Love Me – Jesse Ware

Just say you love me, just for today

And don't give me time 'cause that's not the same

Want to feel burning flames when you say my name

Want to feel passion flow into my bones

Like blood through my veins

I just picture them slow dancing to this song and my bones melt – that’s it. Nessian own my heart.

18. Nothing Left To Lose – Kari Kimmel

Now every day seems longer than the last

And all the faces come and go but nothing heals the past

I hope you liked it:)

#nessian #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian playlist #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas

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birminghams · 4 years

Text

tragedy ━━ 𝐭. 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲

SUMMARY: with war comes casualties.

“ARE YOU hurt?”

Tommy’s voice is low against the myriad of gunfire that’s raining down on Birmingham, the swell of anger growing in his chest as the scent of gunpowder fills the air. He finds himself resting up against you, shoulder to shoulder as his hands pat down the length of your body, checking for any visible injuries that sent you hurtling to the ground before he’d managed to cushion the fall.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, voice barely audible.

Tommy’s shaking his head, eyes meeting yours and then everything else around you dissolves into nothingness. He pulls you into him, exhales the weight off his chest and uses his hand to press down hard on your side, flinching as you groan in pain.

“I need you to stay still.”

“Tommy—”

“I need you to be quiet for me,” he murmurs then, lips brushing up against your temple. Tommy feels you shiver against him, and he pulls you in closer. “It’ll be over in a second, I promise, but I need you to stay still for me. Can you do that?”

Except Tommy doesn’t wait for a reply.

He calls out to the endless sea of bodies swarming him, to anyone who might hear his pleas, to someone who can help with the ‘fucking hole that’s bleeding out’ but the smell of death seems to linger in his voice. His words start fading into the backdrop of the violence that’s descending on them. The family that’d taken you in as one of their own.

And then there’s blood; there’s so much blood.

It’s on his hands, slipping through his fingers and painting his nails in a harsh red that almost steals a strangled sob straight out of his scratchy throat. He’s clinging to you while the blood gushes out, taking your life with it as it turns the Garrison floor into a horror movie and the world doesn’t seem to stop spinning.

“It’s my blood, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t trust his voice, so he nods.

He doesn’t trust his words, so he breathes you in instead.

Everything slows down then, the moments dragging out in a torturous display that’s almost enough to have him begging and pleading to a God that he doesn’t believe in. He can feel you visibly weakening against his skin, body slumping against his frame as you fight against the welcoming darkness offering you a peaceful transition into the next step; into a universe that will no longer let you exist alongside him.

“How bad is it, Tommy?”

But then the smell hits you, and it crumbles like a tragedy.

It’s sickeningly harsh, the metallic tang lingering in the dense air, the lightly rusted iron permeating through the gaps in your ribcage: a scent that’s consuming your brittle bones into something that resembles a nightmare neither one of you can wake from. Tommy can’t breathe against the stench of it as it settles itself on his sternum, choking him every time his lungs beg for release. Instead, he focuses on you and the way you smile at him, honing in on the simple fact that this might be the last time he’ll see the dimples in your cheeks and the last time he’ll hear you inhale to exhale again.

It breaks and then mends and shatters again.

If he could trade places with you, he’d do it.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, but he’s not sure what the platitude is for, and it’s too empty to fill the space between you. “I’m so fucking sorry. It’s not meant to be like this. Not you. It should have never been —”

“Tommy, that you?”

John appears over his shoulder then, face grim with blood smeared over his cheeks. He’s observing the way Tommy’s shielding your body with his own and then it’s pretty easy to pinpoint the exact moment his gaze falls on the gaping wound, the blood pouring out faster than your body can replace it. He’s at your side within seconds, pulling off his shirt and placing it underneath Tommy’s hand; the same hand that’s holding your insides into the confines of your body instead of on the ground as they should be.

“It won’t fucking stop.”

“Tommy—”

“Why won’t it fucking stop?”

“Shit,” John replies, fingertips brushing the stray hairs out of your face as you turn away from him. He tries not to flinch when he notices that his shirt is no longer white like it’s supposed to be—now it’s a dark red that’s dripping with blood—and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. “How the fuck did you get hit?”

“I never did know how to stay out of trouble.”

Tommy breathes out a laugh, but it’s too forced, too fake, too unlike himself. “I told you to stay inside.”

“I thought I could help. I didn’t know how to before—”

“Someone better find Polly and get fucking Ada over here. We need fucking help, there’s so much blood, and no, no, no,” Tommy cuts himself off, turning back to you as you start to drift off in his arms. He gently shakes your body, stirring as he stills against the dark backdrop of his worst nightmare brought to life. “Fuck no, come on, you gotta keep those eyes open for us. I need you to stay awake for a little bit longer.”

“Tommy,” you exhale in a slow breath; “I’m so tired.”

“I know,” he murmurs, “but don’t close your eyes.”

It’s like this: Tommy’s holding you close, his heart beating erratically against his ribcage. It’s echoing in his ears; the only reminder that this is his reality; that you are dying in his arms and there’s nothing he can do about it. He thinks about praying for salvation. About trading his sins for your life. It doesn’t occur to him that he’s not religious. All he cares about is the fact that you’re dying in his arms and all he can do is watch as your life slips away.

“I always thought of myself as a burden.”

He shakes his head. “How can —?”

It’s an unspoken revelation that falls into the short space between where your bodies rest and an admission that occupies the pause before his next heartbeat. He watches as your chest rises and then falls with each breath you struggle to draw in. His hands are still coated in blood; rust smeared against his pale skin as he hooks his fingertips around yours.

“It was before Grace.”

He doesn’t ask any questions.

He’s not sure he really needs to. He remembers the baby-faced charmer that followed the Blinders around, questioning everything, flirting with him at every chance. He’d asked around about you; found out the history behind the wit that dripped from your lips, about your siblings, parents. He’d been wary of allowing a stranger to blend into the family folds of the Shelby clan, but he was outvoted before he had the chance to object.

“Did you really try and dig up dirt on me?”

He shrugs; as if it’s a given, saying, “I protect my family.”

It’s an acknowledgement that you hadn’t adequately confirmed until now. It’s been a few months since your parents called you up claiming a strange man had been questioning them about you in regards to a job you’d apparently applied for; someone who wore a cap and had eyes that brought a chill to their bones. He’d found your skeletons, but gone was the arrogant, selfish man determined to belittle you in front of everyone.

He was no longer concerned with driving you out.

“Are you —?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

He doesn’t reply at first.

It’s unexpected; unwarranted. He keeps his gaze firmly locked on the wound that’s still continually bleeding against the palm of his hand, the warm ichor taking inches of your life with it and all he can do is let it. He can’t save you. There’s this weight on this chest; something he hasn’t felt since Grace. He wants to indulge in the fantasy of what-ifs, but there’s no time for that now.

Not when his heart is breaking all over again.

Not when he can feel you slipping away.

“Would you stay with me?”

He chokes back his emotions with a small cough, leaning down to press his lips against your cheek. He can’t bring himself to kiss you on the lips, not yet, not when he can’t be sure that this is what you want, not when he can’t be sure that you’ll make it.

“Always.”

But your lips are turning blue; skin growing paler as the gunfire amplifies into a crescendo before it fades into a silence that’s almost as deafening. It consumes you until Polly is suddenly pushing her body through the small gap in the crowd, Ada hot on her heels and the rest of the Blinders surrounding you in a circle, all of them wishing for a miracle as you lie in a pool of your own blood.

“I love you,” you say again.

It sounds too much like a goodbye.

“No, no, no,” Tommy retorts quickly, voice breaking under the strain of his own emotions. “Don’t you know it’s me that loves you? Don’t you know that?”

Polly grits her teeth; barking orders.

Her voice is muffled like she’s underwater. Her hands reach out for you, but you can’t feel it. The numbness has spread too quickly, paralysing you as the fear and grief starts to mount. Limbs heavy, heart racing, it’s easy to let your eyes fall shut.

“Tommy?”

He doesn’t move; he can’t.

It’s Grace all over again. He couldn’t save her, either. Everyone who gets too close seems to leave him in the end, and he doesn’t learn his lesson. His heart should be locked away; never to see the light of day again. At least then the ones closest to him will be safe; guarded against stray bullets; guarded against him.

“I need you to move,” Polly murmurs, hand on his shoulder. “If you don’t; I won’t be able to help.”

It takes John to pull him away.

His white shirt is ruffled, soaked in blood. He can feel it sticking to his skin as John guides him to a few feet away, shrouded in the shadows as Polly and Ada get to work on stopping the bleeding. His chest is aching, heart heavy as his eyes meet Arthur’s; his brother is crestfallen, crumbling at the sight of his your body at his feet. Tommy never did quite understand the friendship you shared with Arthur; you didn’t have anything in common and yet, in his darkest hours, Arthur leaned on you.

Arthur is the first to look away.

“I can’t go through this again,” Tommy admits, voice hoarse. “Not again.”

Burying Grace was hard.

Watching you die is even worse.

He can’t tear his eyes away from where you’re laying on the floor, Polly leaning over you as Ada continues the chest compressions, pumping a flicker of life back into you. His body feels oddly light; like it doesn’t belong to him. It’s an out of body experience: one that separates the tragedy from reality.

“It’s me that loves her.”

John rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know.”

“It’s me that fucking loves her. It’s me that—”

He falters as Ada crumbles, her hands falling away from your chest. She doesn’t start the compressions again. Polly guides her to Arthur’s open arms; quickly resuming in her fight to save your life. One minute blends into the next and it feels like a lifetime before Polly turns to him, too, face void of hope, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Don’t fucking stop! Don’t fucking —”

Polly’s across the room within seconds. “Tommy.”

“Don’t fucking make me lose her too!”

Polly reaches up, taking his face between her hands. It’s gentle, tender; where she loses herself in the sorrow clouding his bright blue eyes, haunted by the agony, death and grief that surrounds him. Tommy is rarely the first one to break eye-contact, but this time is not like the others. This time he pulls back before Polly can see the silent tears his body is beginning to shed.

“Tommy.”

The familiar urge to run is clawing at him; turning him inside out. It’s silent now, a weird sort of disquiet that rests heavily on him, making it harder to hear the rough, haggard breathing stealing the remaining energy from you. He blinks, once, twice, hoping that it’s another nightmare he can wake up from, a phantom fear that’ll disappear and take this hurt with it.

“Tommy,” you whisper.

He’s at your side within a second, hands gripping onto you. He’s drowning, and you’re his anchor, except the anchor is never meant to break, not like this. Never like this. He’s resting his forehead against yours: he whispers platitudes that Tommy doesn’t believe in, but it’s the only thing he can think of to calm you down. It’s dark out; stars blinking against the blanket night sky, fog hanging low as his world implodes.

“Tommy,” you murmur again, falling limp.

Then all he can do after that is watch how your trembling hands finally stop shaking.

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #mine

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captainjimothycarter · 3 years

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I’d be rlly interested in seeing take on infinity war!steve and peggy. You’re writing is great, but most importantly, keep doing what makes u happy & healthy 😊

Like IW Steve like FROM IW or IW looking Steve? Either way, this is what i came up with. I am so unsure if its what you wanted. Also thank you so much, you are amazing and I”m glad you love my writing <3 I also haven’t seen IW so bear with me.

“I don’t understand,” Peggy found herself saying for the unkempt time that evening. She stared down at her hands, not able to bring herself to look up at him.

This isn’t real. This couldn’t be real. This was some dream, some illusion her brain has cocked up from long, overworking hours in a hot and stuffy building because someone had painted the windows shut yet again.

And yet, her mind subtle, it has to be.

Because she does not remember ever seeing Steve with a full beard nor with hair this long, nor with this look in his eyes that has told her he’s lost everything. He’s nearly as afraid of her as she is of him.

She’s seen him with stubble, weeks of over shaving have caused his beard to come in slower than the rest. She’s seen him with longer hair than what the military rules regulate, but in times of war, rules are bent and forgotten. She’s seen him with a lost look in his eyes when it involved saving innocence from camps and even when it came to losing Barnes, but this? This is something so much worst.

He’s pacing in front of her, still having yet to remove his uniform. It’s grimy, covered in God knows what. He’s bleeding still from a busted lip, a cut above his eyebrow. He’s worst for wear with neglect and from what she can make terms of it, a war had happened. A battle had been fought, people lost to weapons beyond her understanding and stones taking people’s lives and turning them to dust.

He stops to look at her, hearing her words, taking in her appearance. She looks straight from his memory, wearing a cream blouse and red skirt. A heel is broken and the hem of the skirt is covered in dirt and there’s a smudge of it on the tip of her nose, but she’s real. She’s breathing. Every scan done to her proves she’s real.

Turning back to a man named Bruce, Steve waved his hand again in her direction, something that was getting annoying. “Explain.”

The man gave an exhausted sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He took his glasses off and massaged his temples. “Steve, I’ve explained it - the-the fact is I can’t understand this!” His fist hit the computer, making them all jump. “The only people who can are -”

“Don’t,” Steve breathed in a tone she had so rarely heard before. Begging. Don’t admit the words that are true. That he knows to be true.

“The fact is-”

“You don’t know that!”

He’d taken a step towards the doctor, his shoulders squared and jawline clenched. She’s seen that look before - how many times had he given that look in the face of battle? How many times had he looked this determined when arguing his point during tactics of war?

Except he wasn’t arguing to save damage done to their men - he was begging for his own salvation.

“Steve.”

The voice came from a woman Peggy hadn’t seen walked in, a woman with short, cropped blonde hair. The way she held herself told her that she understood the argument between the two, that she was on edge herself, worried for her friend.

The Captain let out a shuttering breath, fists clenched as he turned to look at her. For a second, he looked like he was about to swing and hit her before his shoulders slacked.

“Go take a breather. Bruce, you too.”

When the men cleared out of the room, Peggy let her shoulders drop and ran a hand over her face. She felt a few flakes of dirt fall from her hair. How had she’d gotten so dirty?

“This is not the reunion I imagined,” she attempted to joke, looking up at the woman.

The blonde’s lips twitched slightly as she got on her level, squatting down to look at her. “I don’t think this is what he imagined either. Steve is…”

“I know,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You don’t have to tell me, I know.”

“Then you know he’ll come around to you once…” She swallowed and looked up at the holograms, watching the faces change. Her eyes reflected the hurt. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

Peggy still couldn’t make heads or tails of what the hell had happened. She was sitting behind her desk, late at night when a flash of bright light had taken her. She had no time to react, to shout, to even grab her gun, before she was tumbling head-first and into a pile of mud. She wasn’t alone when she came to her senses, moments later. The woman with blonde hair - known as Natasha - and a man with the clearest blue eyes she’s only remembered in her dreams stared at her.

Steve.

It had been the first name out of her lips and Steve’s face twisted in pain and horror as he dropped to his knees beside her. His hand ghost over hers, just barely touching her. He wouldn’t look at her, past her, to the woman, trying to determine if this was real or not. She had touched him and he flinched, causing her hand to jerk back.

“You’re real.”

Those should not have been their reunion sentence, the first words out of his lips but they were. They were the most heartbreaking thing she had ever heard and the sound played in a record in her head.

It’s what brought the first sob from her lips, the water pouring from the showerhead washing away her tears. She was thankful for a hot shower, scrubbing perhaps too hard at her skin to wash away any trace of dirt. She wasn’t sure why she was crying.

Maybe it was the fact of everything - the horror Steve had been through, the situation she fell in on. Or the overwhelming sense that he’d been alive this whole time. Or just everything. All she knew when she came out of the shower, hair done into an un-elegant knot on the top of her head, she felt no better.

Natasha had left clothes for her to wear. A simple pair of jeans and a blouse, a pair of pajamas were left behind on a bed. She wasn’t even sure where she was staying or whose room this was. Just that she was both exhausted and hungry and wanted to find Steve to give him the comfort he needed, but not wanting to force her place.

A knock at the door distracted her from getting dressed, tying the soft, plush robe tighter around her frame as she went to answer the door. “Oh, Natasha, I’m…” The words stopped on her tongue as she found Steve standing in her doorway.

He’s showered too, given the damp hair hanging in his face. The cuts and bruises looked almost better by a small margin. He had pulled on a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, his hands full of take out that reminded Peggy just how hungry he was.

“Hi,” he breathed, underneath the beard she could see a flush forming. “I...I brought...dinner. Figured you were hungry. Interdimensional travel, I hear makes you starved.”

“Hi.” He looked so nervous, it reminded her of the little boy from Brooklyn decades ago. “Where did you hear that one?” Peggy quipped, hand closing around the frame of the door.

“Thor.”

Slowly stepping aside, she waved him in and Steve seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind them. “I’ll have to meet this Thor, then, if he’s an expert at these travels.”

“You’d like him, he’s...he’s great…” She could see his shoulders sagging as he placed the steaming bag onto the table, gripping the chair hard enough that she could hear the sound of the wood splintering.

There was a little hesitation in her motives, but she forced herself through to take his hands. He turned to her and she wasn’t surprised to find tears in his eyes. She was surprised when he hugged her tightly, face buried in her hair.

Fuck.

She couldn’t deny herself this. Her arms tightened around him, pulling his frame closer to hers. His shoulders shook with a gasping sob, Peggy’s arms only tightening to give him the solace he deserved.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that position or who cried more, but she was reluctant to pull away. His hand held her cheek, gently wiping the tears away.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, always sounding in awe when he spoke of her looks. “You-you always were - I mean you have… you just…”

Despite the sniffling and tears on both of their faces, Peggy stood on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, arms moving to wrap around his neck. He picked her up off of her feet to kiss her in return.

The kiss was not what she imagined, how their reunion should’ve gone, but it was theirs. He gave a weak laugh as he sat her back on her feet, still holding her face in between both his hands now.

“I’m a mess,” she retorted, lips now were swollen from kissing.

“Beautiful,” he corrected, making her snort and roll her eyes. His lips twitched into a small, sad smile, kissing her temple.

They stayed in silence, time ticking by slowly and too fast for Peggy’s liking. It wasn’t until his watch chimed, making them both jumps did they slowly pull away from one another. Suddenly remembering there was food there, her stomach growled loudly and he gave her a look.

“You’re starving, you should’ve said something. Come here.”

Dishing out fried rice and orange chicken, Steve sat beside her, using a pair of chopsticks to slowly eat his rice. It wasn’t the reunion dinner she imagined, but it was theirs.

“Did Natasha send you?” She asked after a long minute.

“She talked me into my senses. She-she’s right… we don’t know what the hell is going on, how the hell you came here to be or-or if this will even last…” His voice faltered on that one, her heart clenching. “But I-I should grab it while it lasts.”

“I’m not leaving,” Peggy found herself whispering, Steve smirking at the determination in her tone.

Steve snorted into his bite of rice, choking when she gently hit his chest. “What? Are you going to fight Thanos yourself?”

“Maybe. And get you to shave that damn beard while we’re at it.”

Behind it, she can see the puppy dog pout that he was trying to get her attention with. She ignored it in favor of a bite of her food.

“I like my beard.”

“Mhm, darling.”

“You-I…” Steve found himself suddenly staring down at the rice, poking it around with the chopsticks. “You called me darling.”

Damnit, if he didn’t know how to make her heart flutter. She set her utensils down and turned to look at him, laying a hand on his thigh. “I did because you are my darling. The beard...suits you, it’s just...I am not used to it. The last I saw…”

“I was a scrumpy man in a too-tight uniform, becoming a human ice sculpture at the bottom of the ocean. Got it.” He grunted when she hit his chest again. “It was a joke, Pegs. A lot changed...too much has changed.”

The wariness in his voice spoke all, it tugged on her heart again. Peggy’s eyes softened as she climbed into his lap and cupped his face between both of her hands. His beard was softer than she imagined and this close, she could tell he put an effort to put aftershave on.

“Then I guess we can only do the right thing and change with it - it’s not like we can go back in time and change things.”

He nuzzled into her touch, leaned so their foreheads touch. A ghost of a smile was on his lips as they kissed.

“I’ve missed you, Pegs. So much.”

“And I, you, darling.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #Infinity Wars

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