#thankfully the funeral will do that :) he's just gonna end up crying up there. accidentally say something that spooks him and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Orphan - Chapter 8

Starring: Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! Some serious stuff. Some fluffy stuff. Some sad stuff. A/N: This is a bit shorter chapter, but dude did I love writing it. Ehehehehe. PREVIOUS CHAPTERS can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

8. We stan

There are fans and then there are über fanboys. Among the latter it’s possible to find not just Nathaniel but Cooper, too, both of them staring at the two WW2 soldiers like it’s the first superheroes they have ever seen. The guests do take it very well, trying to keep up the polite conversation with Clint (who obviously knows them) and Laura who is managing to contain the amusement at watching the kids and their dad’s slight jealousy – not because he isn’t a hero, however being their dad is the category he get’s labeled under instead. To spear Steve and James some of the embarrassment, Lila makes sure to haul the boys away from the table as soon as they’re done eating.

“So, how’ve you settled in?” Steve ask, finally turning his attention fully to you.

A corner of you goes a little bit crazy with amazement over the fact that Captain fucking America is talking to you. Be cool. “Pretty good, I think,” you smile sort of in his direction but mostly at your plate, “I’m grateful I’ve gotten to stay here‘ntil I’m back on track…” Laura’s hand squeezes your shoulder briefly, and you know she’s trying to tell you it’s no problem.

“Any thoughts on whatcha want?” Somehow the Captain makes the question sound like he cares and it damn near melts you. “Where d’you wanna go?”

“I’ve kinda been looking at rentals in the city already…for when I’m allowed to leave.” This isn’t news to Laura, and you hear her quiet hum in agreement from where’s she’s bend over the dishwasher. “I wanna finish at uni…’s bout time, right?” Fuck that smile is perfect.

You have to move your attention from Steven when he’s buddy pipes in: “In New York? I’m trying to find a place too…maybe we can help each other out?” A faint blush spreads to his cheeks for a second. “I mean keeping an eye on adds and stuff…you pro’ly know the city better than I do now.”

“Not sure…things’ve changed whi- after the Snappening.”

“True,” he concedes, “betcha not as much as since ’43.”

The comment makes his co-heroes laugh and Laura laugh. You get it, of course, but what can you do to help him? Still, you promise to keep an eye out for a place suitable for a couple of guys.

“No no, just me! Steve’s my best friend since f’ever, alright, but I ain’t gonna stand being ‘roun him 24/7.”

“You’re the one who snores.”

“Well you take hou–“

Thankfully, Laura interrupts their friendly bickering with steaming much of coffee and pie for dessert.

…

Having said the goodbyes and goodnights, it comes as a surprise when someone knocks on the door to your room. What’s even more startling is that it’s Steve standing there, sheepishly twirling a cell phone in those strong hands.

“I uuh…” he begins, about as coherently as your thoughts are, “I just…’m glad you doing fine and I know Clint an-and Laura will help ya with anythin’…”

“They’ve been really nice, yeah.”

For some reason the man blushes, making him look younger – well, age’s relative when it comes to a man that look to be around 30, technically is born 105 years ago while having been unfrozen for a bit less than half of that. Or something. A corner of your brain continues down the track of calculating ages, but most of your focus is applied to the conversation.

“Is…? Are you looking for a place, too?”

“What? Oh, no…no I got a-a place, Bucky’s crashing with me.” Furrowed brows hide the gorgeous eyes before he meets your gaze. “I’ve got some contacts, so I might be able to find you somewhere good ‘nd affordable…if y’wanna.”

Two heroes on the case…daymn. “Suuure…that’d be cool. I dunno when I can move though.” Hint! Hint!

“We’re working on it. But’s fair to say you can look at enrolling at Uni and…stuff…”

“Oh.” What?

Everything, also known as your life, has been on hold since you got caught spying on your biological father’s funeral so the idea of finally moving on is odd. Your belly does a swoop before settling down with heavy feeling. Mostly, you’re happy at the idea of getting on with your plans, but you also feel a bit sad because it means you will have to say goodbye to the Barton’s who you’ve accidentally ended up liking. More than liking. Always cheerful Nathaniel, who welcomed you with open arms; Lila, who comes to you with tea or hot chocolate to gossip and talk about school or friends; Cooper, perhaps more quiet, but often picking your brain when it comes to homework; Laura, who never hesitated to let you into the home and lives she was (is) trying to rebuild for her family while doing the best she can to be there for her husband through the loss of friends.

“[Y/N]…” Steve says softly, and you look up at him but see nothing but a blur. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Strong hands pull you gently into a hug so warm you can’t help but feel safe. Safe enough to let go of all the worries, both past and present, in the form of a steady stream of tears while the man hold you and strokes your hair. There’s no reason to talk, to try to explain. He knows.

It takes a few minutes before you manage to stop crying, and during that time you’re vaguely aware of someone approaching and leaving again. Laura? Eventually, though, you can breathe in a newfound calm freely, realizing for the first time how much energy you’ve been devoting to worrying – not that you have all the answers now, but at least Steven Grant Rogers are telling you things are going to be fine. Of course you believe him.

Pulling back a bit, you see how the grey t-shirt has a huge stain from your tears, and you try to apologize only to be stopped with the reasoning that it’s just water and it will dry. Thank gods for waterproof mascara! It’s with reluctance you step back as he releases you from the embrace.

“If you don’t wanna live alone at first then you can crash at my place.” The words are hurried, proving the man is somewhat shy. “I mean…if…uhm…”

He’s kidding…it doesn’t look like it’s a joke though. “That…that might be nice, actually…thanks.”

You mean every word, afraid of what thoughts will come to you at night if you were by yourself instead of a house full of life and, well, friends. And you still want to get on, find momentum once more and reclaim…something. Bright eyes are staring at you with equal parts delight and terror before Captain America does an awkward little bow and then rushes down the stairs, leaving you with a tingle at the back of the knees as if you want to follow. It’s Captain America, the inner voice of reason miffs, everyone wants to follow him.

Logical thoughts or not, you can’t shake the image of his smile as you go to bed, and you end up thinking more about that man than Pepper Potts and your future until sleep finally overpowers you, bringing with it dreams strong arms holding you, and tender lips searching for yours.

36 notes · View notes

thatsecondsalemboy-a · 5 years

Note

five times cried (implicatedbyprophecy- bc i love the angst)

Send “Five Times ______ed” for a Drabble of 5 different times our characters… did that. - Five Times Cried

Leta is seven years old when Corvus is born. She’s not really told much about what’s going on, only that her stepmother (who she doesn’t really know, if truth be told) is having a baby, and that her father is hoping for a boy. She doesn’t understand why. She’s ushered in when the baby is born ( a boy, like father wanted, but he’s early and small and a little frail, and these are apparently bad things) and catches a brief glimpse of him, but it’s not until a few weeks later that she properly meets her baby brother.

Her bedroom is just across the hall from the nursery, so she hears the cries easily one night, just after she’s gone to bed. They’re soft, almost pitiful, and she finds herself pulling on her slippers to pad across the hall and into the nursery. Corvus is crying in the crib, a shock of dark hair already adorning his head, little face screwed up. She doesn’t really know what to do with babies, so she sits by the crib, reaching one small hand through the slats to take her little brothers, lightly rubbing a thumb over the tiny fist.

Corvus stops crying.

Leta stays there all night.

It’s the night before she goes to Hogwarts, and Leta can’t help but feel a wild mash of excitement and worry. The excitement because she’s finally getting to go off to school, and she’s going to learn how to properly do magic and meet lots of other people and not just the occasional child of another rich pureblood family. The worry because leaving for school means leaving Corvus, and it almost makes her feel guilty, even though it shouldn’t. But Corvus is only four, and once she gets on that train, he’s going to be more or less alone until Christmas, save for the house elves and the seldom there nanny that their father had reluctantly hired. What if he hurts himself? What if doesn’t get enough to eat? What if he had more cases of accidental magic and something happened (he’d had several, which Leta thought might be quite early, but thankfully they’d all been harmless and easily dealt with)?

She can’t bear the thought of him shut up all alone in the draughty old manor house, and tears trickle down her cheeks. When she hears the door creak, she rubs her eyes, turning to see her little brother standing in the doorway, the little stuffed dragon she’d gotten him for his birthday hanging from one fist. All it takes is a light jerk of her head and he darts across the room, clambering up on to the bed beside her and worming her way so he’s cuddled up beside her. He also notices her tears though, a tiny frown working across his little face.

“Sad?” he asks. He’s going through a phase lately where he seems to aim to say as little as possible, and she’s one of the few who can interpret it most of the time. Their father doesn’t even try. She gives a short nod, wrapping an arm around him.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she whispers, in case Corvus Lestrange IV is still awake and wandering the corridors. Her baby brother doesn’t quite understand. Of course he doesn’t, he’s still only little and doesn’t realise that they’re going to be parted just yet. But in his childish innocence he plants a slightly sloppy kiss on her cheek before holding the little dragon out, “You take Scaly?”

The offer causes fresh tears and she hugs him close. She ends up bringing the little stuffed dragon with her too, and it takes pride of place in her belongings.

She can’t help but feel a little out of place here. Of course, Clarisse had been her step mother, but she couldn’t really say that she knew the woman, other than that ever since Corvus had been born, she had seemed to catch one illness after another, her body frail, and as such she rarely left her bedroom. She had been a kindly enough woman, she supposes, but there wasn’t really enough of a relationship there for her to grieve too much when, a few days after she comes home for the Christmas break in her second year, the woman passes away.

Her little brother, however, is devastated. She’s his mother, after all, and Leta knows that even with her illnesses, Corvus had spent quite a lot of time curled up beside his mother, listening to her tell stories, or even just getting an occasional cuddle. It wasn’t as if their father was the type for affection. So naturally, Corvus is upset. He’s six, and he’s shot up a little over the few months she’s been at school, but he still has the same almost frail frame.

It’s the funeral, and she can see the tears streaming down his face that he keeps rubbing with the sleeve of his robes, trying not to make a scene. Their father keeps shooting him silent glares, and Leta wants to reach across to comfort her little brother, but she doesn’t even need to look at her father to know that would not be a wise decision.

When they get back to the manor later, Corvus races off up the stairs two at a time, and she can hear the bedroom door slam from the entranceway. Slowly she follows, knocking softly on the bedroom door before slipping in, padding over to the bed where her brother’s face is buried in his pillow, thin shoulders shaking. He’s trying to be stubborn, but it takes little effort to pick him and pull him into her lap, letting him cry into her shoulder.

Not for the first time, she wishes she could spare him pain.

She’s at work when she receives the owl, and as her eyes scan over the details of the letter, her knees nearly give out, and it’s only Theseus that stops her from dropping entirely, her heart in her mouth as she reads and rereads the words, as if that might change what’s actually happening.

She needs to get home.

It’s Corvus. He’s in his last year now at Hogwarts, a top student, prefect and everything, and she couldn’t be prouder of that. Except now, the letter tells her, Corvus has collapsed in transfiguration class, having complained of feeling unwell and intending to go to the hospital wing. He’s been immediately sent home, under a quarantine.

Dragon pox. A serious case.

Frankly, she doesn’t give a damn about the quarantine. She’d had a mild case as a child, so all she cares about right now is seeing her brother. It’s the fastest she’s ever gotten home, getting through all the wards on the manor with a speed never before seen and up the stairs. She pauses in the doorway though, hand clapped over her mouth.

Corvus looks terrible, his skin tinged a horrible clash between a faint green and an ashen grey, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clearly visible on his forehead. Even from her she can see his eyes twitching behind closed lid, and it’s clear to her that he’s in pain. So she does all she can think of to do, crosses the room towards him and takes the damp cloth from a healer, gently wiping at his brow and squeezing his hand lightly, not giving a damn about contagion. She’ll take off work, she certainly has enough holiday saved up. Right now, her brother is her priority.

For a while, it seems like his case might be looking up, but then one night, everything takes a turn for the worse. His fever rages, climbing higher and higher, and now he’s audibly making noises of pain, thrashing and convulsing slightly in the bed, to the point where they’ve had to restrain him in case he does himself any harm. They can only wait and hope that his fever will break. And Leta sits with him, clutching his hand tightly to her and making quiet pleas to no one in particular that they will spare her brother. Tears roll thick and fast down her face, desperation overtaking, and at some point, without meaning to, she falls asleep.

His fever breaks.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

The last time, they had said it was the last. The Great War, the war to end all wars. There shouldn’t be another war. Not another period of time when the whole country is on edge, both magical and muggle, saying goodbye to members of family, unsure on when a reunion may be possible, the fear that permeates through every household.

Theseus is spared this time, on account of an injury sustained while on an auror mission. Newt is…somewhere, but he’s doing something with creatures, and as much as she worries, she knows that Newt can look after himself more than most people would believe.

But her baby brother.

And really, he’s not a baby anymore. They’re both full grown adults now, and she has a family of her own. He doesn’t. He’s never really settled with anyone in particular, and especially since their father had died a few years back, he no longer had any pressure on him to do so. He was content to just work, and if he found someone he liked…well that would be an added benefit, wouldn’t it?

Except now there is another war, and this time, she has to say goodbye to her brother as he goes off to fight. He’s a far cry from the tiny little baby in the crib, or the little boy who would clamber in beside her after a nightmare. Even from the occasionally moody teen who had sometimes taken to skulking in the family manor. No, he was a man now, still the same lean frame, but with a maturity in his eyes.

And she wraps her arms around his chest and sobs. It won’t change anything. He still has to go and take an international floo to France, no matter how much she sobs. But she takes this moment for what she can, and he holds her just as tight, his own tears damp in her hair, but she doesn’t care. She wants this moment to just go on forever. She doesn’t want things to go this way.

Still, after several minutes, they eventually pull apart, red eyed and shaky, but not at all embarrassed of their own behaviour. He’ll write her as often as he can, he promises, so much she’ll be annoyed. She doesn’t chastise the exaggeration, just smiles and nod, sniffles a little. And as he moves off to get on the train, he looks back, and she gets a brief flash of memory, a younger Corvus getting on the Hogwarts express, flushed face and excited expression. There’s no excitement this time, only anticipation and their own tears.

He keeps his promise, and he does write, as often as he can manage it.

Until he doesn’t.

Until the official looking letter is dropped in her lap, and she knows what it is before she even opens it, and Theseus holds her as she weeps, as she screams and shouts at the injustice of it all.

His last letter she reads over and over, but there is no sign of what is to come, of course. Divination is not especially provident in their family after all, how could he have known?

Tracing a hand over the familiar signature….she can only hope it was quick.

@implicatedbyprophecy

#implicatedbyprophecy #drabble #my writing #ooc #meme answer

4 notes · View notes