#why am i left battered and winded by that i meant to enjoy

[just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh]

Grounded

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and forced to reveal secrets of the pack

Pairing: Derek X Reader

Warnings: Blood, torture, swearing

Word count: 2605

Original piece please don’t copy

The school bell rang for the final time that day, a collective sigh of gratitude echoed in the room, the teenagers grateful to be released from the maths teacher’s class. Gathering your books, you stacked them in a neat pile before exiting the room, offering a small smile to your defeated teacher. It wasn’t her fault maths sucked and no one enjoyed it, you did feel bad for her on some level but also who the hell would willingly dedicate their life to teaching numbers?

Entering the hallway, you made your way through the sea of teenagers, everyone desperate to go home for the weekend. Reaching your locker, you grabbed the couple books you needed, shoving them into your backpack, thinking about the homework you had due on Monday you sighed. The door to your locker slammed shut before you could close it.

“Hey, you ready?” Stiles smiled.

“I told you I can walk home.” You rolled your eyes, walking away from the boy. Surprised by your quick movement, Stiles jogged to catch up to you, throwing an arm lazily around your shoulders.

“I know you can walk home but why would you when you have me?”

Exiting the main doors of the high school, you welcomed the fresh warm air, the smell of angsty teens left behind you. Reaching the end of the pavement, you saw the jeep parked a few cars away.

“Stiles I want to walk.” You turned to face the boy.

“Y/n, you heard what Derek said okay? All these recent attacks? The break ins and thefts? He doesn’t want you alone.” Stiles tried to reason with you. Knowing the recent spike in criminal activity was less than likely to involve the supernatural, you felt safe walking the 20-minute trip home. In fact, you enjoyed the peace it brought you. Half of the walk was through the woods, a quiet haven from the busy high school, and being autumn, you relished in the yellow and orange leaves that swept through the small woodlands.

“Stiles. It’s 20 minutes. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” Stiles sighed.

“You know Derek is going to kill me if I let you, you know, that right? You like the idea of alive Stiles because I do! And I am not letting you be the reason I don’t make it to my 20’s okay?”

“Derek doesn’t have the balls to kill you.” You turned on the heel of your foot, headed towards the woods, leaving a defeated Stiles in your wake.

“I’m telling Derek you said he has no balls!” He called after you. You let out a small laugh, grabbing your headphones from your backpack, and your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your playlist, deciding today was the perfect day for (Your current favourite song).

Entering the woods, you felt a rush of calm wash over you, the stressful week was pushed to the back of your mind, your thoughts centred on the surrounding woods. You stepped over exposed roots and around large bushes, glancing up at the sky you watched as the wind swept through the foliage, the ageing leaves dancing in the light breeze. The sun peaked through the cracks, determined to reach the forest floor, providing the perfect amount of light for your stroll. The floor of the woods had been coated in fallen leaves, leaving a blanket of red and orange below your feet. Taking a moment to stop and appreciate the tranquillity the forest provided you, you felt your phone buzz in you pocket.

Home yet? I’m this close to sending out a search party!

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head you began typing a response.

You need to…

Before you could finish you felt a knock to your head, your vision distorted, the soft sound of music playing through your headphones which were now next to you on the forest floor, was the only thing you could hear before everything went black.

***

Another blow straight to your stomach knocked the wind out of you. Coughing and spluttering you attempted to regain your breath, each inspiration hurting more than the last.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.” You mumbled.

Leaning to the side of the chair you spat a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground, you couldn’t tell where the source of the blood was coming from, maybe your lip, or maybe the inside of your mouth. Too many lacerations to your face meant it all blended into one.

You raised your eyes to meet your rival, struggling to see through the blood you saw one man wiping his fists on an old rag, your blood coating his knuckles. He faced a woman to your left, who sat with one bent knee up on a bench. Her back leaning against the wall adjacent to you, a smug grin on her face.

You rotated your wrists which were bound behind you, the thick rope digging into your skin. Your ankles were bound too, tied to the legs of the wooden chair you sat on.

“You’re going to tell us what we want sweetie, its just a matter of how beat up that pretty face is going to be before you tell us.” The woman commented, as she played with her fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. If she was trying to look disinterested, she was doing a great job. But you were ready for this. You trained for this. You knew what was coming, and if it meant keeping your friends, the pack, safe, then you would gladly take whatever they threw at you.

The mans fist connected with your jaw once more, snapping you out of your daze. The room began to spin around you, and your vision blurred. Trying to recenter yourself you pulled at your wrists, the pain of the rope grinding into your skin giving you something to focus on.

“Alright careful there, big guy, we need her conscious if we’re going to get that information.” The woman stood from her seat, striding slowly over to you, before bending at the waist in front of you. She reached out to grab your face, but as soon as her fingers made contact with your skin you pulled away. A stern look, on your face made the woman let out a small laugh.

“You’re a tough one aren’t you.” She turned her head, almost admiring your battered body before her. “Too bad that doesn’t mean shit around here.” Grabbing your hair, she yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the room. Moving to stand behind you she held out her other hand, gesturing towards the man in front of you. Without a word exchanged, the man grabbed a knife from a nearby table, its blade glinting in the moonlight the small window above you allowed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea who you are dealing with do you?” The woman whispered in your ear, her grip on your hair only tightening as she neared the knife to your throat. You felt the cold edge, lightly cross your neck, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for you to avoid swallowing.

Taking a deep breath in you closed your eyes. Grounding yourself was apart of your training, something that was drilled into you from the beginning. Breathing in again, you picked up on the different smells the room produced, sweat from the man in front of you, poorly masked by his cheap cologne. The sweet smell of the woman’s hair from behind, her locks dangling beside your face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood being the most potent. You changed your focus to your heartbeat. Feeling it pounding against your chest begging to be released you pictured your heart slowing, its contractions reducing with every breath you took. Steadying your breathing was next. Cautious of the blade still connected to your neck you breathed in through your nose, holding in for a few seconds before releasing softly through your mouth. Repeating those steps, you were able to regain some stability. You were still in the same crappy scenario but at least now you were calmer. A panicking person is an interrogators wet dream. A calm person, their nightmare.

Sensing your self-control increase, the woman let go of your hair, moving the knife from your neck to the table beside the man. Standing before you once more, she knelt in front of you, keeping one knee up for balance, she waited for your eyes to open once more. Regaining the control, you almost lost, you felt strong enough to open your eyes once more. Staring at you the woman barely moved, she was searching your eyes for something, her expression a mixture of shock and impressed.

“You’re not afraid.” Her words barely above a whisper. Your only response was a return glare. A small smile creeping on to the face of your kidnapper. “They trained you well.”

Standing, she turned to the man behind her, whispering something in his ear before turning back to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. The man dropped the rag he was still holding and left the room, the sound of the door locking behind him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit honey. You have information I need. And I know I’m not going to break you, not by torturing you anyways. So, let’s try something else, shall we?” The woman began to pace back and forth in front of you, the small room only allowing her a few steps before being forced to turn around again. Your eyes followed her, left and right, before she stopped in front of you once more, still facing forward.

Taking in a sharp breath, she spoke. “How’s your sister doing?” She turned to face you. Refusing to let her know she was finally making some progress with you, you remained staring at her. Resuming her pacing she continued speaking.

“She’s what 5 now? Gosh so young. But you know what they say right? They grow up so fast.” Your eyes tracked the woman, more intently than before. This woman knew your family. Something that was always off limits when the pack was involved. Your attempts at shielding them from the supernatural had been successful, keeping that part of your life private even from Derek. And here this woman stood, threatening them. Threating to take away your motivation to make the world safer. Unfazed by your lack of reaction the woman carried on.

“Soon enough she’ll be going to high school, making friends, maybe even realising who her sister really is.” She stopped before you once more, bending at the waist she placed her hands on the arms of the chair you were bound to. “You didn’t think you could protect them, forever did you?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. No amount of calm breathing could ground you now. “Aw babe.” Her hand raised to your cheek, ready to wipe away the falling tear. You only pulled away from her once more, hating the way her skin on yours felt. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve, did I? Sucks doesn’t it. Well, there is one way of ensuring your little family stay naïve to the world around them.” She stood tall once more, her voice now deeper, more sinister than before. “Tell me what I want to know.”

You had no choice, right? She threatened your family, your sister. You protected them from so long, only for you to be the reason they are in danger. Looking down at your lap, tears hit your thighs unable to control them you simply let them fall. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the woman before you, a smirk present on her face which made it so much harder to say what you were about to. But the images of your sister raced through your mind. The way her hair shone in the autumn sun, the way her smile reached her eyes when she was really, truly happy, the way she greeted you after school every day by running down the front path directly into your arms. That was the highlight of your day, finishing school and-

Wait

You never responded to Stiles.

You never texted him back, and the kidnappers were kind enough to bring your phone into the room with you – hoping to get some information.

Your eyes moved to the door behind the woman, a loud crash followed by a heavy grunt sounded from behind the entranceway. The woman whipped her head around, only to be met by silence. She slowly approached the doorway.

“Adrian…?”

Silence

The woman turned back to you, unsure of herself. You only had a small smirk as a response. Before she could question you, the door busted open, barely remaining on its hinges, a rush of dust filled the room. Watching ahead as the dust clouds engulfed the woman, you heard a deafening roar followed by a petrified scream. Small thuds followed, as the dust reached your eyes you began coughing, the sudden pain in your ribs swiftly returning.

Two hands were placed on your shoulders, looking up you were met by two green eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” A worried Derek scanned your face, concern riddled him as he saw the multiple cuts and bruising before him. You could only nod, the dust denying you the ability to speak.

Moving behind you, he effortlessly cut the ties that bound your hands, then your legs. Using the arms of the chair to stable yourself, you attempted to stand, wincing when the pain became too much. Derek moved to your side, wrapping your arm over his shoulder. Carefully placing his arm around you, resting his hand on your hip he accepted most of your weight, attempting to make standing and walking easier. As you took a few steps forward, the dust cleared from your eyes and you were able to regain focus. Looking forward you saw the woman who threatened you, her back against the same wall the door was, her skin now covered in blood, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Scott stood before her, looking down at the defeated woman, his eyes still red and his claws still present.

Clearing your throat, you stopped walking, causing Derek to pause and look over to you. You peered down at the woman, no longer in a position of power, she looked smaller, more gaunt than before. Her eyes showed she was petrified, providing some comfort to you after what she did.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” a whisper of a smirk present on your lips.

Proceeding to step forward through the doorway you were met by a panting Stiles, his arms stretched out in front of him, you couldn’t tell him to stop before his body connected with yours. You inhaled sharply, grimacing as pain rang throughout your body.

Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles by the shoulder, pulling him away from you, a small growl forming in his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry of course you’re hurt shit sorry.” The boy stumbled over his words, his eyes finally taking in the battered sight before him. He moved to the side of you not occupied by Derek, his help was welcomed by you, suddenly feeling lightheaded from standing.

The three of you began walking forward towards the exit of the building.

“Is now a good time to tell Derek, you think he has no balls?” Stiles piped up earning a death glare from Derek. “No? Okay we can come back to that.” You used whatever energy you had left to shake your head.

#teenwolf #teen #wolf #teenwolf X reader #Teenwolfmtv #teenwolf fandom #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #derek hale #derek hale fanfiction #Derek imagine #Derek hale fanfic #derekxreader #Imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #wolfpack #tyler hoechlin #tyler #hoechlin #Derek #hale

[levihantrash]

Priorities

For Levihan week Aug 2021 Day 2 prompt: confessions

Also based on a cute ass tumblr prompt by @sanothebreadpup <3 hope you like it!!

Summary: It’s been a while since Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long. Erwin suggested going to Levi for advice on managing prioritises. Instead, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

note: no smut but lots of spicy poetic touching

cross-posted on ao3 🤪

-----

Hange wanted to confess. It had been months since they knew that their best friend status with Levi could potentially be tweaked to include just a bit more romance, and they knew they had to be the one to take that step. As much as Levi was quick-witted on the battlefield, he wasn’t quite the risk-taker in ordinary settings. In fact, Hange figured Levi would sip tea beside them until he was greying and would probably be as content with the arrangement.

Hange wanted to confess, but their to-do list was too goddamn long.

Out-of-the-blue, though characteristically charismatic, Erwin gave the soldiers a pep-talk on how they need to know what to prioritise (i.e., humanity's victory).

Inspired, though the speech’s intended audience was clearly for new recruits, Hange tried to prioritise their tasks. Within a day, they got overwhelmed, the list being more of a reason for delay than for action. Moblit, well-meaning as always, tried to get Hange to focus on one at a time but that was unthinkable to them. One at a time meant that the confession would never happen. There was too much to research. Too much at stake. Too much for one inconsequential confession.

Unknowingly, Erwin saw Hange wringing their hands, muttering to themselves in the dining hall.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just can’t prioritise the important stuff,” Hange grumbled. Perking up at the mention of priorities, Erwin advised Hange to seek Levi’s guidance.

“Levi only does one thing at a time once he sets his heart on it.”

Eager for a chance encounter with someone they technically already hung out with on most days, Hange asked Levi for help. More accurately, in perhaps the most roundabout manner, they asked Levi if he wanted to bake… for a titan.

“For research,” Hange said, almost convinced by their own performance.

“You can do that yourself,” Levi said reasonably.

While starting a task was horrendously difficult, Hange was not one to give up once they began on one.

“You’re the only one here who can bake.”

Eyes narrowed, arms folded, Levi was not buying the compliment. He had a pile of papers left to read. Hange’s whims could be settled by someone with more well-matched interests and time management.

“Go ask Petra.”

Hovering nearby with another paper for her captain to sign, Petra noticed Hauge's crestfallen face.

“It’s not about the baking being done but who Hange is doing the baking with,” Petra whispered, as discreetly as she could.

"I'm busy," Levi said, loud enough for Hange to hear, heedless of Petra’s input.

“Alright.” Hange sighed, internally fuming that they should’ve found a more legitimate excuse. Bluff out something like Erwin’s orders. Levi followed Erwin’s orders without question. Hange’s requests were dealt with more scepticism. Not that Hange had the best track record of requests.

In the end, Hange prepared the baking supplies, because even if titans couldn’t stomach cake, it was an experimental endeavour. Practically speaking, they could give some baked goods to the juniors. Maybe even gift some to Levi.

Stumbling into the kitchen with too many ingredients in hand, they found Levi leaning against the entrance looking positively sullen. Upon spotting Hange, his face morphed into a more acceptable, neutral expression, nodding towards them.

"I thought you were busy!"

Levi shrugged, grabbing some of the ingredients from their arms. "I was. Didn't you want to bake?"

“I guess?”

The sudden change of mind was too abrupt for Hange to wrap their head around. A hopeful glow had unfortunately begun growing in them. Levi was being exceptionally nice today. No doubt that he was usually nice. Just not will-bake-for-your-titans kind of nice.

"Erwin said that you are really good at prioritising tasks,” Hange said, slowly digging through the cabinets for the utensils.

"Huh. Let me guess—he wants you to learn from me."

Hange scratched their head absent-mindedly. "He did tell me to ask you."

"I'm not actually very good at sticking to a task,” Levi admitted, wondering where in hell Erwin got the idea that he was focused. If he were, the paperwork would have been submitted, instead of lying around, flapping aimlessly in the wind before Petra (and Oluo) offered their generous help. He refused—every time. Levi was simply good at keeping a blank face and reporting to Erwin that he needed more time, which Erwin must have mistaken as a sign of seriousness than a sign of procrastination.

“You are! You finished work before coming have, didn't you?”

Levi didn’t breathe out a word, silently pouring through the book of recipes.

"What do you want to bake?"

Hange didn’t mind his lack of response, pondering over his poor cover-up question. "Something easy. What about bread?"

"Bread isn’t easy."

Difficulties translated into the promise of adventure for Hange. Pumped up, Hange prodded at the picture of an unremarkable loaf of chocolate banana bread.

"Let's do it anyway!"

“Suit yourself.”

-----

The small touches were the ones that were hardest to ignore. Hange felt the accidental-deliberate brush of Levi’s elbow when he reached over to choose an ingredient. Other times, he guided their hand with the right amount of strength for stirring the batter. His fingers over their stirring hand were firm and reassuring.

“You’re stirring too fast,” Levi said patiently.

“You’re distracting me,” Hange replied half-heartedly.

“Oh, am I?” The fingers left Hange’s hand. Just as Hange was about to lament their moment of folly in allowing that to happen, the fingers reached out towards their face. Forcing in a breath, Hange felt Levi’s thumb rub out a chocolate stain at the side of their lip.

“How did the chocolate get there?” Levi murmured, more to himself than to them.

“I was snacking on some of the chocolate bits a while ago…” Hange said cheekily, licking the side of their lips only to realise that Levi’s thumb was still there. Their tongue brushed his finger, and in that contact, Hange was ready to collapse from self-generated sexual tension.

Though his eyes widened noticeably, Levi quickly resumed his blasé expression. Rubbing the rest of the stain out, he walked to the tap to wash his hands. There was some hesitation, before he hurriedly turned on the tap, letting the water run for two seconds over his hands before going back to his position next to Hange.

Unsure as to whether to be offended or pleased by the sight of Levi cleaning the evidence of their encounter with such carelessness, Hange busied themselves with breaking eggs and separating yolk. If it had been Levi with a finger lined with fudge, Hange would’ve licked it spotless. With permission, of course.

To pay him back in kind, Hange plotted their own routine of touch as well. The touches became bolder, starting innocently enough. From casually brushing away hair that was poking Levi’s eye, to going behind Levi who was busy slicing up bananas and placing both hands on the counter. Their arms were now on either side of him, conveniently taller than him so that their head could peer right over his shoulder. The cutting didn’t cease—it only got more rapid, the bananas becoming neat circles in a matter of seconds. Hange let out an impressed whistle, hands not leaving the counter.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Oh, am I?”

One drop of the knife, and a swift turn later, Levi found himself staring straight into Hange’s bright, beautiful, heavily eye-bagged orbs.

"Hange, do you know why I'm in the kitchen at 2am baking for some shit-brained monsters?"

“Titans don’t have—”

“Because I have priorities.” Levi interrupted, not allowing Hange to clarify what the physical anatomy of titan subjects entailed.

Hange blinked, maintaining an oblivious exterior. “Your priorities include titan research?”

“You know what I was going to say.”

“Somewhat. I want to hear you say it out loud, though.”

Grimacing, he concentrated his gaze on Hange’s collar instead. Skin flushed, collarbones peeking out mischievously. Bad idea.

“You little shit.”

Their laugh was quieter, milder than the ones they let out on other days. “My favourite little shit! So what are your priorities?”

“Wiping the blades. Cleaning the toilet. Dusting under the tables. Doing laundry. Having enough tea. Baking with a scientist who thinks—”

Hange pressed a gentle hand on his mouth. “I get it.”

“Which part do you get?” Levi asked, enjoying the fact that when he moved his lips, they grazed Hange’s palm. How would it be like to replace that hand with their mouth?

“That you like me.” Hange grinned, tugging Levi by the straps of his apron just a bit closer.

An unexpected flash of clumsiness made Levi knock down the bag of flour, spilling it onto the floor. The fall clouded up the vicinity in white dust. Gaining confidence with obscured vision, Hange held the back of Levi’s head, tracing his undercut, admiring how his immaculately combed hair had come undone. An attractively dishevelled mess. Hange was in no hurry. Yet.

Levi, in a spur of restlessness, looked up at Hange questioningly. Eyeing their faint smirk, he tilted his head sideways, watching carefully for any sign of reluctance. An impatient “are you going to kiss me or not” from Hange; a straightforward command was what he needed to hear. No time was wasted pulling Hange into an urgent, searing kiss. Backed against the counter, hands cupping Hange’s face, Levi devoured the sensation. The taste of sugar, fruit, flour, and chocolate clung onto the entwinement, as Hange breathily pressed up against him. Erwin had warned them both. Love in the military meant the threat of loss. The possibility of sorrow. As he felt the rumble of Hange’s satisfying groan beneath his lips sending an unprecedented warmth through his body, he was certain. He would have loved Hange whether he kissed them or not. Death would happen, whether or not Hange rubbed his waist in soothing, awe-inspiring strokes. Right now, he would die in absolute bliss.

To be honest, Hange would’ve been disappointed if they didn’t end up fucking, or at least, aggressively kissing eventually. Erwin’s advice was only a stronger reminder that Hange was never one to be conservative. They loved Levi, as a comrade, as a friend, as the person whom they would kill for, if it meant saving his life. Still, having Levi sneak a hand into the bareness of their back, sucking their neck with a hot tenderness that made their head spin, they knew that chastity and platonic hugging could not be the only option.

“We should’ve done this sooner,” Hange said, peeling away his jacket.

“Couldn’t tell when the right time was,” Levi said, starting on the buttons of Hange’s shirt.

The door creaked open.

“This is your idea of asking Levi for help?” Erwin said, a thick eyebrow raised as he surveyed the mess.

With some willpower, he stopped unbuttoning Hange’s shirt. Lightly pushing Hange away, Levi straightened up, less than pleased with the interruption.

“Erwin, you better have something worthwhile to say if you—”

“I’ll clean this up.” Erwin, fully recovered from his shock, was beaming.

“Huh?”

“It’s about time,” Erwin said, with the proud sincerity of an unwitting matchmaker, gesturing towards the door.

“We owe you one, Erwin!” Hange waved at him on the way out, while Levi cast him a grateful, wary glance. With his hand was secure on their back, and Hange’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, there was no care for an audience. Only the smell of baked goods and unfinished business fuelled their steps towards a private space. A place where they would end up in each other’s arms—spent, sweaty, and deliriously at peace.

#levihanweek2021 #lhw2021 #levihan #levi x hange #day 2 #levi ackerman #hange zoe #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #fanfiction #aot #my writing #hanji zoe #prompt

[rebelwrites]

Fresh Start

Dylan Massett x Reader

A/N @chibsytelford was right, she always is! Looks like Rebel is going to be adding to the list of who she writes for. Now to not get Dylan and Clay mixed up! I am just testing the waters with this but if you want to see more Bates Motel / Dylan Massett fics then let me know. I am only 6 episodes into season one so might not write a lot for him to start. Or this might just be a one off fic and I won’t write for him again it all depends on what you guys want 😂

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

This Months Writing

This was it, a fresh start. You had all of your belongings in the back of the car, alongside the hand gun sitting on the passenger seat of your beat up car. You finally had the guts to leave your toxic life behind. Taking a drag on the smoke, you scanned the area, there wasn’t much around and you were starting to give up hope. Until you saw the sign of the Motel up ahead.

“Fucking typical,” You scoffed, “No vacancies.”

Luck hadn’t been on your side since you left what was meant to be home, but something in your stomach told you to pull into the Motel and just see.

Seeing the light on in the office gave you a bit of hope, maybe just maybe your luck would change. This place looked dead, there weren't any lights on in any of the rooms and there was only one car and bike out front. Taking a deep breath, you climbed out of the car, pulling your leather jacket around yourself, tucking the handgun into the waistband of your shorts.

The gravel crunched under your boots, the only sound was the quiet chimes of a wind chime hanging from the porch. The only other option you had was to sleep in the car until morning and then you could find somewhere if this didn’t fall through. Lifting your bloody knuckles up to the glass, you lightly knocked. Just hoping that someone would answer.

“Can I help?” A guy said, pulling the door open.

The words got stuck in your throat, as you made eye contact with him. His blue eyes shining bright from the dimly lit porch, his messy blonde hair, the leather jacket giving him that bad boy look. He couldn’t have been much older than you.

“Well are you gonna answer or what?” He snapped.

“Er yeah sorry,” You muttered, rubbing the back of your neck, “Look I need a place to crash, even if it is just for one night, I know the sign said no vacancies but look I am desperate.”

“I’m sorry, we aren’t open yet,” A female said, standing by the guy.

“Oh right,” You sighed, “Well then sorry for bothering you.” You said, turning on your heels and heading back to the car. Guess all your luck had run out, you were alone with no place to crash apart from your car.

“Have you seen her before?” Dylan asked Norma.

“Never in my life, but it doesn't mean anything. I don’t know everyone yet.” She shrugged.

Dylan didn’t look over at his mom, he kept his gaze on you. Watching as you slowly walked back to a car that looked like it had seen better days, he watched as you pulled the gun from your waistband, tossing it on to the passenger's seat before climbing in, resting your head against the steering wheel. He didn’t miss the bloody bandage wrapped around your knuckles, or the dried blood on your lip, or the swelling around your eye.

“Look I know you haven’t opened this place up yet, but you sure we can’t do anything for her?” He said as he nodded towards the car. “Looks like the girl has had it rough and on the run from something or someone and looks like she is desperate.”

“Dylan no, we aren’t open for business yet.” Norma said not looking up from the computer.

“Why are you like this?” He spat, walking over to where the keys for the rooms were kept. “I saw the way you looked at her, it was the same look you gave me.”

“Dylan,” Norma said sharply.

“Just for once in your life, just be decent.” He said, grabbing a key off the wall.

“What are you doing?” Norma asked, standing up.

“Giving the girl a place to crash for the night,” He spat, storming out of the office.

He couldn’t just sit back and let you sleep in a battered car, not when it was potentially going to rain during the night. He didn’t normally help people, it wasn’t in his nature, but one look at you and he knew he needed to do something. You reminded him of himself. He had been where you are and he knew what it was like to not have anyone in your corner.

He lightly tapped on the window of your car, making you jump, before rolling the window down.

“Get out of the car.” He said, leaning his forearm on the car, leaning down.

“Why you gonna kill me?” You asked for your gun.

“No stupid,” He laughed, “Brought you a key to room 8, so put the gun down.”

“Thought you weren’t open?” You questioned.

“Well technically this place isn’t open, but my mom is a heartless bitch.” He shrugged. “So come on out of the car, you can crash here for as long as you need.”

“I only have enough money for one night,” You sighed, pushing the door open.

“Don’t worry about it,” He smiled, passing you the key. “I’m Dylan.”

“Nancy” You nodded, giving a fake name but mentally cursing yourself at the first name you thought of being Nancy, who the fuck is called Nancy these days, and judging by the look on his face he knew you were lying.

“Well Nancy,” He smirked, “Enjoy your stay and if you need anything come find me.”

And with that he disappeared, you climbed out of the car once again. Tucking the gun back in your waistband and quickly went to the room before he changed his mind and kicked you out. Once you had made sure the door was locked, you place the gun on the nightstand before falling onto the bed, letting sleep take over.

Morning soon rolled around, your body ached all over from the fight, your knuckles stung and you knew you would have a nice black eye. That life was behind you now, you would no longer be made to fight to make your so-called father rich. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you sighed. You had hardly any money, you were in a new town, you didn't know anyone but you would find a way to make things work. You always did.

Walking out of the room, you felt yourself walk into something, looking up to see Dylan’s blue eyes staring back at you.

“Shit sorry,” You mumbled pulling your cigarette packet out of your pocket to find it was empty. Screwing the pack up, you tossed it into the bin.

“Here” Dylan nodded, passing you a smoke.

“Thanks,” You whispered.

“So Nancy,” He said, “What brings you to the little town of White Pine Bay?”

“I needed to escape, you know, leave the past behind and make a fresh start for myself.” You shrugged, not looking at him. You didn’t know him but for some reason he made you feel safe, and like you wanted to tell him everything but you held back.

“It seems this town is the place for making fresh starts.” He scoffed, taking a drag on his smoke, “Look you don’t have to tell me but I can tell just by looking at you that you have come from a bad place, and I know Nancy isn’t your name.”

“That obvious aye,” You half laughed, looking at the bandage that was once white.

“Come on, come with me.” He smiled, taking your bandaged hand in his. “This needs cleaning up and I will fix us some breakfast. But there is one condition to getting food.”

“What's that?” You asked raising your brow at him.

“Tell me your real name.” He smirked, “Because I sure as hell not calling your Nancy.”

“Fine, it’s Y/N.” You said finally looking into his blue eyes.

“Well then Y/N, welcome to White Pine Bay and the fresh start you wanted.” He hummed, pulling you to your feet. “Now come on I am fucking starving.”

#dylan massett #Dylan massett x reader #Dylan massett imagine #bates motel #Bates motel x reader #Bates motel imagine

[yaku-soba]

all roads lead home

༶•┈┈ general m.list 

༶•┈┈ tsukishima kei x gn!reader | angst with a hopeful ending :”)

tags/warnings: language, childhood friends, they’re exes but it gets better i promise, almost all the karasuno boys stay on in miyagi

word count: 3.7k

a/n: the edited version of an old fic i wrote for a followers event on my old blog :”) the prompt was i’ll name this city after you :D i hope yall enjoy this!! 

synopsis: You want (an apology, an explanation) to forget, and to get on the next train back to Tokyo, never mind that this is your first time visiting Miyagi in two years. Tsukishima wants to quit his shitty job as an overworked barista (at your favourite cafe, as if the night shifts weren’t tormenting enough). Tadashi just wants the three of you to have lunch together again. 

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

The sun is setting when you step off the train and onto a platform that you haven’t laid your eyes on in nearly two years. 

(It’s been a lifetime.)

The vending machine that you used to rap your knuckles against in the hopes of knocking free an extra drink is still in the corner, as dirty and forlorn as you remember. It’s oddly reassuring - in a liminal, jarring sort of way - like you’ve stepped off the train and into the past, like you’re eighteen again.  

“Y/n!” Tadashi looks much the same as he had when you’d graduated high school - smile maybe a little brighter, hands a little larger. Heart still as huge as it had been when you’d left. 

He holds his arms out and you jump, throwing yours around his neck. Tadashi wheezes at the sudden weight, and you laugh as his hands wrap around your waist to crush you to him by the small of your back, barely managing to keep the both of you upright.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/n.” He smiles earnestly, and you let go of his shoulders to pull at his cheeks, cooing. “Hey, stop that,” he whines, and when you refuse, he eyes you warningly, “I’ll drop you!”

You stick your tongue out at him childishly, but relent. He sets you back on the ground gently, and you turn back to pick up the bag you’d dropped. 

“Come on,” he says, “let’s go home.”

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

The peace doesn’t last. 

You really should have known, with the way Tadashi has been sneaking glances at you on the way out of the station. You’ve known him long enough to know what that expression means - he looks at you like he has something to say, but isn’t sure if he should, and that’s perfectly fine with you. 

You’re starting to think you just might make it all the way home when a corner of the night sky chips and falls away, cracking right down the middle as your best friend says softly, “You should go home.” 

You freeze. You know, instantly, what - who - he’s talking about. 

The betrayal stings the back of your throat like bile. 

You look away, fixing your eyes angrily - you can’t help it, Tadashi knows that you hate talking about this, about him, but he’d asked anyway - on the dried leaf skittering across the abandoned playground, at the mercy of the wind. 

“I am home,” you point out uncooperatively, feeling childish, “that’s why I’m back in this shithole.”

“That’s not what I meant,” your best friend says into the night air, still in that annoyingly gentle way of his that makes you want to scream into the empty streets of this empty town. You wait, an open heart raw in the world, but he says nothing more. 

(Two years later, and Tadashi still reads you as easily as he had when the two of you were six and tracing the lines on your palms. Dancing on the edge of a cliff but stopping just short of falling over.)

“Y/n?” Shit, of course you’d wander into him on your first night back, the universe has a personal vendetta against you, how could you have forgotten. 

Next to you, Tadashi has gone very, very silent. And still. A little like a mouse stuck between a cat and a snake; relieved to have been momentarily saved from the clutches of one, newly worried about both, and too afraid of drawing attention to run away. 

You’d laugh, if it weren’t for the rage rising in the back of your throat like bile, jagged like a broken promise. 

“Y/n,” the bastard behind you repeats, and the sound of your name leaving his tongue is nothing short of heartbreak, “I didn’t know you were back.”

Slowly, you turn. Tsukishima looks just as you remember - stupid glasses on a stupid face, his hair longer but no less beautiful. As aggravating as he is breathtaking. 

(Something in your chest - no, not your heart - aches. You reach down and crush it between your fingers the way you used to crumple the torn pages of your notebook into little balls, to throw them at Tadashi, or-)

“Tsukishima,” your voice is even, good, “I don’t see why it’s any of your business.” 

He flinches, a minute action you would have missed if you didn’t already know him better than the old callouses on your palm. Good, you think again more vindictively - except his eyes are widening just slightly in shock, two gold pools like shadowed streetlamps, and suddenly you’re eighteen again.

You’re eighteen, and in love, and you’re blind enough to say, I would do anything for you, I would scrape my knees on metaphorical sidewalks everyday for the rest of my life if I had to, just to make you smile. 

You’re eighteen, and you’re foolish enough to think, I would give you the world if you asked, surely you’d let me have your heart; your tiny hometown, your little safehouse. 

You're eighteen, and you’re in love - and then you realize he’s not, not the way you are, and you fall on your empty sidewalks because it hurts and it tears you apart, but most of all you hate that you still care. 

You hated being eighteen.

“If that’s all you wanted to say,” you continue coldly, “I’m leaving.”

You turn on your heel, avoiding Tadashi’s eyes. You won’t make him choose - you can’t do that to him.

Tsukishima says nothing as you stalk away down the empty streets and towards the house you grew up in. 

(Somehow, you’re disappointed.

You tell yourself it’s because it’s been a long day.)

“Y/n, wait!” Tadashi calls, and you lengthen your strides angrily even as you hear him puffing up the slight incline behind you. “Y/n!”

“What,” you hiss, stopping short. You don’t turn - you don’t want to check if Tsukishima’s still there. 

(You’ve seen enough of his back to last you a lifetime.)

“Are you okay?” Your best friend asks, and you look at him in disbelief.

“I thought you were on his side,” you say dumbly, before realizing that that’s a road that leads to ugly places. 

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Tadashi says diplomatically before you can try to apologize, “I just want us - the three of us - to have lunch together again.”

You scoff, and start walking, adjusting your bag. “Sure, I’ll text Hinata, I’m sure he won’t mind as long as we agree to volleyball practice with him first.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tadashi says for the second time tonight, this time with a hint of frustration, “and you know it.”

“I do,” you acknowledge, “the same way you know that I want nothing to do with the four-eyed bastard.”

“You liked his glasses,” he tells you indignantly, catching up with you easily, “you used to steal them-”

“Liked, used to,” you snarl as the taut string of your patience finally snaps, “as in past tense. Leave if you’re just going to torment me. We both know I’ll get enough of it once I’m back home.”

Tadashi falls silent at that. A small part of you feels guilty, till you remember that it’s not your fault that he’d chosen to drag up old, unpleasant memories from beyond the grave, where you’d buried them. 

“Do you want me to stay for dinner?” He asks finally. An olive branch. 

You throw him a tense smile. “If you’d like.”

“Okay,” he breathes, and it’s like you’re looking at six year-old Tadashi again - young, painfully innocent, apologetic. “Okay, I’d like to. It’s been two years, after all.”

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

(You still think of him.

You could be baking in your kitchen in your apartment in Tokyo and all you can see is the curling steam of buns he bought at Sakanoshita store after practice. You could be walking past an electronics store and you’d find yourself looking at the TV screens, half-wondering if they replay the matches from a no-name high school in a far-away part of Japan.

They never do. 

It doesn’t stop you from seeing in your mind’s eye the surge of a block, the curve of taped fingers.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

Because the universe hates you, you run into Tsukishima again, just a day into your brief return to Miyagi.

Walking through the glass doors of what had once been your favourite cafe and not paying attention to anything beyond one feet of you as you text Hinata that you’re there early, you don’t immediately notice that the barista has frozen in place. 

You look up.

Tsukishima is staring at you, a carton of milk in one hand, the other resting on the blender. Even against the battered machine, his fingers are painfully elegant. 

(Bandaged fingers against red and green and white. Pale fingers entwined with your own. A flash of memory, too painful to be anything but a curse.)

“Y/n?” He says, and it’s too much, it sounds so much like the way he’d said your name when you were seventeen, when you were eighteen, that your heart stutters and does a few flips on its way up your throat. A bad habit you never quite managed to get rid of. 

You turn around, and walk back the way you’d came. 

The bell tinkles mockingly as the door swings shut behind you. 

“Y/n?” You flinch, but it’s just Hinata. “I knew it! It really is you, Y/n!” Hinata, bless him, beams. Then, as his eyes fall to your white-knuckled grip on your phone, he asks, “Is something wrong?”

Nothing, you want to say, let’s go for brunch, shall we? Instead, what comes out is, “You didn’t tell me he worked here.” It ends up sounding a tad accusatory. You only regret it a little. 

“Oh, Tsukishima?” He asks casually, and you barely resist the urge to flinch at the name, “Sorry, I forgot.” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, and - it looks genuine. Hinata’s a terrible liar; you’d know if he was pulling a fast one on you. 

You sigh. It’s not even eleven in the morning, and you want to go home. “It’s fine,” you reassure him, even though it’s very much not, “let’s just find somewhere else to eat.”

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

“Do you have to leave?” He’s leaning against the door to your room, but there’s no relaxation in his posture. With his arms crossed and his brows furrowed, his face shut like a window screen, all Tsukishima looks is aggressive.

Something about the way he says have to, like it’s something unreasonable and selfish that you can’t let go of, grates on your nerves.

(Sometimes, when Tsukishima gets like this, he makes you feel small. More childish than child-like.)

“It’s a good opportunity for me,” you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said those six words, in that order, “and it’s a scholarship, too.” You can’t quite keep the irritation out of your voice. 

This is good for you, why can’t he just see that?

“Oh, so you’re one of those,” your boyfriend says, and there’s something ugly in his sneer that has you recoiling, “just going to-to up and leave, aren’t you? Build a new life for yourself in the fancy city now that you’re too good for this nowhere town in a no-name prefecture?”

You frown, properly frustrated now. “I’m not severing ties,” you say, “I know being in different prefectures will be tough, but it’s something that we can work around.” 

You hate that it almost sounds like you’re pleading. You shouldn’t have to. 

“We’re still in the same country - it’ll be easier to visit and call each other, with no time-zone differences in the way.”

Tsukishima laughs. It’s as sharp as the broken glass of a shattered photo frame. “Yeah, like I don’t know how these stories go.”

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

Tsukishima sighs as eight p.m finally hits and he can turn the open sign on the door to closed. 

He goes through the routine that comes with working the last shift mindlessly - wiping down the tables and counters, pushing the chairs back into their neat places. 

(He wonders how long you’ll be in Miyagi.)

The trash bag crinkles as he ties it up, dragging it behind him to the back door. 

He’s only just hefted it into the dumpster specifically for un-recyclables when someone punches him in the face. Hard.

His glasses go flying, his annoyance skyrockets, and he barks, “What the hell?”

“I should be saying that!” His assaulter yells right back at him, “What the heck, Tsukishima?”

At the familiar voice, he stops, a retort on his tongue. 

Tsukishima squints, and the person who’d punched him shifts, hair glowing orange in the flickering light of a half-dead streetlamp. 

Ah, it’s the annoying, tiny boy. 

“What do you want,” Tsukishima says as flatly as he can muster, even as his stomach sinks and he knows, he knows what Hinata is here to talk about. “Hinata.” 

Hinata only grows more upset. Then he squares his shoulders and says, cold and unforgiving, “You didn’t tell Y/n.”

Tsukishima’s blood freezes in his veins. Suddenly, it’s the last set and the last point against Shiratorizawa, and the air is so thick and the eyes so cutting that he can’t move. 

“You didn’t apologize.” Hinata steps forward till they’re chest-to-chest, and Tsukishima doesn’t need his glasses to know that Hinata’s eyes are accusatory and angry. “Y/n came back and you still didn’t apologize.” 

I know, he thinks, I know I fucked up. Tsukishima isn’t dumb; even if Hinata hadn’t said it, he knows he should have gone after you last night. 

(He should have gone after you two years ago.)

He thinks Hinata already knows what he’s feeling. It’s not a pleasant thought. 

Tsukishima deals with this the only way he knows how, even as a voice that sounds like yours, small and heartbroken, says, don’t do it, not again. 

“It’s not your business,” he snaps, tone disdainful enough to cover his regret, and it reminds him of your words; it sinks into his flesh like a knife cutting into pliant bread, it tugs him apart like a million tiny hooks, “don’t stick your nose into things you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough,” Hinata hisses right back, “to know that you hurt Y/n and that you never bothered to apologize.” 

He pauses before going in for the kill. “And I know that you know that Y/n knows that it was complete bullshit. All you’ve managed to do is hurt the both of you.” Cocking his head slightly, he adds, the edge to his voice mostly gone, “And Tadashi-kun. All of us, really.”

Tsukishima opens his mouth to argue, but - he doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what he can say, because nothing Hinata has said is wrong. 

It’s not surprising - Tsukishima has known all of this for a very long time. He’d been deliberately ignoring it in the hopes that it would gather dust and fade into some distant corner of his mind. 

I’m just as much of a coward as I was two years ago, he thinks, and he still remembers the way your tears had caught the sun that terrible day in your bedroom, he remembers turning away so he didn’t have to look at the promise he’d broken. 

Hinata sighs, and trudges in the direction Tsukishima’s glasses had flown in, bending to rummage about on the ground. 

Tsukishima takes this brief moment of quiet to get his feelings under control before his body decides to do something uncooperative and ridiculous. Like leaking tears.

“Don’t break things you don’t intend to fix,” Hinata says into the silence as he hands Tsukishima his glasses. The barbed words he’d been trying to find die on his tongue. He slips his glasses on just to have something to do with his hands, and immediately wishes he’d just stayed half-blind instead.

Hinata’s eyes aren’t angry, or even disgusted. They’re disappointed, and that makes everything so much worse. 

Tsukishima loses control of his body. He opens his mouth, closes it. 

What could he even say? It’s not Hinata that he owes an apology to. 

“Thanks,” he says instead. Hinata nods and smiles. 

(“Y/n misses you,” Hinata says later, as they’re walking down the street. He offers no elaboration, but it’s enough.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi says as the last whistle for your train blows and Tsukishima still isn’t here, “you know how Tsukki is on the weekends, he might have slept in-”

“Till four in the afternoon?” You raise a brow. Tadashi’s mouth snaps shut, his face stuttering, and you sigh. He shouldn’t be apologizing. 

“It’s fine,” you say, as you step onto the train. You take your heart into your hands and rip it apart like a party favour. 

Tadashi, and the rest of the Karasuno team, waves at you long after the doors have shut and the train departed. 

You watch them through the window till they fade into shadows into specks into sky, and you know that you won’t be coming back for a long time. 

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

You’re only in Miyagi for the weekend. 

It’s been nice, seeing everyone again. You’d even had dinner with the rest of the team. 

(Tsukishima hadn’t been there.)

But the weekend has come to a close, and now it’s just you and Tadashi on the platform again. You experience a dizzying sense of deja vu. 

“Will you visit again?” Your best friend asks, and you tear your gaze from the tracks to meet his eyes. 

(You know what Tadashi is really asking.)

“Maybe,” you answer after a pause, “you’re my friend, after all. And I won’t put it past Hinata to get lost in Tokyo.”

Tadashi smiles in understanding. 

You feel terrible. All you’ve been giving him is compromises. 

“I’m sorry,” you say finally, glancing to the old vending machine on the opposite platform out of habit, “but I just-”

“He misses you,” Tadashi cuts in, “and I think he wants to apologize.”

His words take you aback. Then, “He wants to apologize,” you repeat, and it’s like you’re eighteen again, “but Tsukishima’s too proud for it, isn’t he?” 

“Tsukki’s changed,” Tadashi mumbles, “maybe next time-”

“Y/n!” The both of you turn at the voice.

The breath rushes out of your lungs. A boy with hair like sunlight and eyes like gold coins catches his, bent over with his hands on his knees, a glowing figure in the middle of a dreary platform.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

For you, Tsukishima has always been synonymous with Miyagi. 

Miyagi with the pork buns, with the school full of crows. The prefecture with the hills and the mountains, the small stores and marts run by ex-volleyball players. 

Miyagi, your hometown, where the sky above and the grass below and the people beside you had witnessed you asking a boy for the second button of his gakuran at graduation. Your little safehouse of dreams dreamt of flight. 

Tsukishima was the boy with the gakuran whose second button you had wanted. He’d been the boy with the glasses you’d hated on anyone else but him, the boy who had dreamt of the endless blue with his feet still on the ground. 

He’s the boy you see in every empty, half-lit street at midnight, and behind every fading sign. The lamps in every lit house become his eyes, golden like the light of a possibly-dead star, and every window reflects the shine of his glasses. Like a haunting - a boy becomes a town becomes a memory. 

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

“What do you want?” You ask when it becomes clear that Tsukishima isn’t going to break the silence. “My train’s coming soon.”

(Tsukishima has always been Miyagi to you.

You don’t really want the train to come. Not when you’re finally about to get a goodbye two years overdue.)

“I’m sorry,” the boy with the glasses that you had liked, the boy with the gakuran whose second button you had held in your palm like he’d held your heart, says finally. “I was afraid.”

He doesn’t say what of. You already know, and for now, it’s enough that he’s here at all. 

“You were too proud,” you tell him softly, “I was willing to be afraid together.” 

This isn’t anything new either. Tsukishima isn’t dumb. He must have known.

“Did you regret it?” You ask as the train pulls into the station. 

The boy who is Miyagi to you smiles. “I’m glad you got the scholarship.” His eyes are bright. His hair is a little longer, now. 

You step forward as the last whistle blows in warning, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

You turn, getting onto the train with a backwards wave.

The doors close. 

The boy who is pork buns and dimly lit streets holds up a hand even as he fades into the distance, joined by a shorter silhouette. 

They get smaller and smaller until they’re shadows, then specks, then nothing but sky. 

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

For you, Miyagi has always been a boy.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been - there’s Tadashi, after all, and your senpais.

You tear your safehouse down brick by brick. You hand one to everyone you’ve ever talked to in Miyagi, to everyone you’ve ever loved. 

Tsukishima is joined by Tadashi, and the homeroom teacher who’d confiscated most of the balled-up notes passed between the three of you in class. You add Hinata, Tanaka, Nishinoya, Sugawara; you build a volleyball court and see crows in the sky. 

Miyagi is Tsukishima is Karasuno is volleyballs is the sting of skinned knees on dimly-lit streets. 

(Tsukishima’s contact is still saved in your phone. You had never been able to bring yourself to delete it.

You think about your next holiday break. You think about the extra shifts at your part-time job you’ll have to take in order to afford the train tickets.)

You miss Miyagi. You’re relieved that you’re allowed to admit to yourself that you miss Miyagi, now. 

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :D

#haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuucreations #tsukishima kei #haikyuu!! #kyouka writes #see it all in bloom

[dearest-bucky]

My dearest darling (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Request -  where reader was a cheerful employee in Stark tower. Something bad happens to reader(reader was taken advantage of sexually on her way home from work) that changes her overnight which Bucky dug deeper to know the reason for the change *if what happened to reader is too dark you may change it.

Words: 6.3K

Warnings: Sexual assault, mentions of rape, angst, death, angst again… sorry this is a tad darker than everything I’ve written before.

A/n: This was requested by @tom-hlover she so kindly shared her idea with me and trusted me to write it, I really hope I did this one justice darling! <3 To everyone else reading this, please mind the warnings and if any of the topics mentioned there bothers you in any way don’t read this one.

Feedback is greatly appreciated! xx

Originally posted: August 26, 2020

The crack of her heels could be heard from across the halls, the signature sound of her arrival at the tower. Each morning, Bucky strained his ears to hear those sounds he had grown attached to over the months she’d been working with them, and each morning, he’d give it about ten minutes before he left his room to walk towards the kitchen where he’d find her fixing three cups of coffee, one for her boss, Tony, one for herself and one for Bucky.

Since they’d ran into each other one morning and she had offered to make him coffee, he had loved it so much it had become a daily thing. At first, when he didn’t know her schedule that well, she’d make him coffee and put a post it note on the mug -Bucky- and he would enter the kitchen and see his name there, drink a sip and know immediately who was it from. That put a smile on his face every time. After a while, Bucky came to the kitchen at the same time as her; they’d sit next to each other for a maximum of five minutes before she had to bring Tony his coffee. Bucky relished those five minutes he’d spend in her company and he’d go about the rest of his day with a silly grin plastered on his face.

To say he was smitten with Tony’s assistant would be a serious understatement and he’d put up every day with the teasing remarks from the rest of the team if it meant he was able to spend time with her. The fact that she worked inside the tower most of the time was really convenient for him, because he got to see her around a lot during the day, especially when Tony was hiding away in his lab inventing God knows what, she’d be more free to spend time with the rest of the team, the metal armed super soldier in particular.

“Good morning Y/n.” He spoke from behind her as he entered the kitchen, finding her pouring coffee in the mugs, just like every other morning.

She turned around to face him with a smile on her lips, she was actually expecting him to show up. “Good morning.” Then wordlessly she offered him one of the mugs, which he took with a small thanks. After one sip he sighed in content, albeit a little exaggeratedly.

“I don’t know how you do it, but this is the most amazing coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

“I could teach you how to do it.” She offered with a shrug as she took a sip from her own coffee.

“No, because then I’d have to do it on my own. I enjoy it like this.” He replied with the same silly grin he adorned on his face whenever he was in her presence. “By the way, I didn’t notice a third cup this morning.”

“Oh, that’s because Tony’s not here yet. He called me just before you showed up, saying he had some personal business to take care of and he won’t be here until the afternoon.” She explained and then added. “That means there’s extra coffee in the pot for you today if you want more.” At that, Bucky’s face lit up like Christmas tree.

“Doll, you’re simply the best.”

Hearing Bucky say those words, made her blush. She felt a wave of warmth bloom on her chest, then spread quickly on her neck and cheeks. He always said words like this to her and they always had the same effect on her. Every time they were together, he’d pay her a compliment that made her face flush and her heart beat a little more quickly than normally, and every time she’d look down trying to conceal her involuntary reaction.

Bucky was one of the few people at the tower, one of the few members of the team who she’d consider a friend and not just someone she worked for. Despite the fact that she technically worked only for Tony, whenever she could, she’d be of assistance for the other Avengers too. She loved working for them, with them. They were all very kind and polite to her, but Bucky was different.

Since the beginning they’d bonded over cups of coffee to open their sleep deprived eyes and eventually they’d become more than just two people who work at the same place, they’d become friends. At first it was only the five minute morning meetings, then they’d seek each other whenever they had some free time during the day, strengthening that friendship more and more everyday.

She loved spending time with him. Bucky was someone she could easily open up to, someone she could rely on, someone she trusted and admired. She admired him for being the nice, kind and funny person he was despite everything he had gone through. She admired him for being able to put the past behind him and make the most of the second chance he’d gotten in life. She admired him for never losing the gentleness of his heart, the softness of his eyes, the sweetness of his smile, and if she were to be one hundred percent honest with herself, she even liked him more than a friend should like another friend.

But she’d never do anything about it. It was wrong for many reasons, reasons she’d gone over in her head many nights when sleep would evade her and she’d lie in her bed wide awake and the thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone.

“Does that mean you’re free all morning?” He asked her as he moved to the coffee pot for a refill.

“Well, not all morning. I still have to arrange Tony’s schedule before he comes back and set the calendar for his meetings, but yeah, I have at least a couple of hours I could spare. Why? Did you have something in mind?”

“Mhmm.” He hummed and nodded his head in response, then, looking a little more sheepish than usually, he spoke again. “I was thinking we could have breakfast together. I’ll cook for you.” He added quickly. “As thanks for the great coffee you’ve made me every day for the past seven months.”

A small smile formed on her face and she nodded her head in return. “I’d really like that.”

Bucky returned her smile, trying to steel his nerves as he set his mug on the counter and moved to the fridge and the cupboards, bringing out several items and placing them on the counter. “So I was thinking, pancakes? Or scrambled eggs and bacon? What are you in the mood for?” He asked, the smile still etched on his lips as he moved around the kitchen.

“Both!” She exclaimed with a small laugh and he looked in her eyes, eager to do anything she wanted.

“Then both it is.”

Bucky cracked the eggs and mixed the batter and fried the bacon and even squeezed fresh oranges, moving around the kitchen easily, while Y/n was sitting on one of the stools, looking at him cook and listening to him talk while he did everything on his own. She offered to help but he replied that he had it under control. And he truly did. In less than an hour they were sitting next to each other, biting into salty and sugary food, mixing them together and claiming “It will all mix up in the stomach anyway”.

They ate and talked and enjoyed each other’s company and after they had finished eating they were still staying in the kitchen, not ready to part yet. Y/n knew she had to get up and get to her work, but she wanted to stay more with Bucky, so she made no move to leave until Steve and Sam entered the kitchen a little after ten am. After greeting them and thanking Bucky for the breakfast she got up from her seat and bid them all goodbye, her eyes lingering on Bucky a second more before she left the kitchen.

Usually she never stayed past five pm at the tower, but on occasional days like this one, where Tony was not around in the morning, she had to stay a little later. It was a little after seven in the evening when she finally left the tower for the day. She couldn’t wait to go home and lie down. Despite not having a very difficult job, chasing after Tony all day really took a toll on her, and on days like this one when she stayed later than her usual time she was a little more tired than usual.

She tightened the scarf around her neck more, trying to protect herself from the cold wind of November. The sky was pitch black and no stars were in sight, but at least the streets of New York were well illuminated and crowded as she made her way to her apartment. She lived four blocks away from the Stark - now Avengers - tower and she always walked the distance, enjoying the streets of the city and the never ending movement of the people that walked up and down the streets at any given time.

She was nearing the block of buildings where her apartment was when she heard movement from behind her. She turned her head slightly to the side, trying to figure who was following her, but the area around was not that illuminated and it was nearly impossible to see who was behind her. She quickened her steps, trying to reach her apartment as soon as possible and she was almost there, letting out a small breath of relief when she saw the entrance of her apartment building, when she felt something grab her hair and yank her with force.

She tried to scream for help, but the person behind her was quick and placed his other hand over her mouth, shushing her effectively. He let go of her hair and grabbed her arms, keeping them secured to her body so she wouldn’t fight and moved her towards the alley behind her apartment. “Sshh…” The unknown attacker whispered in her ear and she panicked as his breath hit her skin. “It’s all going to be less painful for you if you don’t scream.” He then said and Y/n tried so hard to fight and scream but the man behind her was way too strong for her, his grip firm on her body as he started to touch her, moving his hand under her coat, then under the shirt she was wearing.

His touch was making her vomit, and she opened her mouth in his hand and bit hard on his flesh. The assailant yelled in pain and she screamed for help as soon as his hand let go of her mouth. He turned her around to finally face him and her eyes met his for the first time. “You bitch, I thought I told you to not put up a fight.” A strong fist collided with her cheek and she hissed in pain. The man in front of her was tall, too tall for her and had a lean, strong body, one that could easily overpower her.

“Please don’t hurt me.” She whispered in pain as her body trembled in fear. “I’ll give you all the money I have, just please let me go.”

Then man laughed evilly and pushed her backwards, her back touching the wall of the alley, while his one hand covered her mouth and nose again, not allowing her to let out even the smallest sound. “I don’t want your money.” He spoke and his mouth came down to her neck, kissing and licking the skin that he could expose from the scarf.

Y/n started squirming, shuffling her body to get free from him but it proved futile as the man’s grip on her never faltered. His other hand moved to her legs, bunching the woolen skirt she’d worn that day around her waist and ripping the black tights with his fingers. Y/n tried to move around and fight more, she tried to kick him in the crotch but it did nothing. She even tried to bite his hand again, but that didn’t work either, it only angered the man more as he turned her towards the wall and slammed her head against it with force.

She could feel the blood dripping down her forehead and started feeling dizzy as the man moved his hand down her legs again. He pressed her body and her face against the wall and kept her trapped there as she could hear him fumble with the zipper of his own pants. She wanted to scream, she wanted to yell at him, at someone to help, but she felt like she was losing consciousness as the man behind her pushed himself behind her and then she felt him inside.

She was helpless as the man took what he wanted from her and then several minutes later - or it could have been hours later, because that’s how long she felt she’d been trapped between the man and the wall - she heard him tuck himself inside his pants and left her there, on the verge of collapsing.

Her legs failed her and she fell on the cold hard ground with a small thud, crying and shivering. She had no idea for how long she stayed there alone and in the cold or how she managed to get up and walk to her apartment, locking the door behind her and double checking it. Numb legs took her to the bathroom where she got rid of all the dirty clothes she was wearing, then she moved under the shower, letting the scalding hot water run down her entire body. Trembling hands grabbed the loofah and she nearly ripped her skin off with how much she was scrubbing.

Her whole body felt dirty and she felt filthy. She stayed in the shower for a long time, thoroughly washing herself, until she felt the water turn cold. She turned the shower handle off and she grabbed a towel to cover herself with. She couldn’t stand to look at her naked body anymore.

With rushed movements she walked to her bedroom and changed into clean clothes, a pair of warm and fuzzy pajamas and she lied down under the covers, alone and in the darkness. Only when she was laying down in silence, she was finally able to acknowledge what had happened to her. She’d felt so powerless in his grip, so weak and helpless, and then she started crying, loud sobs ripping from her chest. She cried and cried and cried until she passed out from exhaustion.

Morning came just like every other day, night turning day and clock ticking as it normally should, as if nothing had happened. Only Y/n felt herself more sick than last night. Her alarm rang, notifying her she had to get up and get ready for work, but that was the last thing she felt like doing. She only wanted to lay down and probably die. She felt like dying. With weak hands she grabbed her phone and sent a text to Tony, shortly explaining she wouldn’t be going to work today. After that she turned off her phone, not caring for anything in the world anymore, covering her head with the blankets, wanting to forget.

Bucky entered the kitchen just like every other morning, the same time as always. He hadn’t heard Y/n’s heels today but he assumed maybe she wore flats, so just like every other day, he made his way to the kitchen with a stupid grin on his face, too happy to finally be able to see Y/n, too happy to start his day with the sight of her beauty. However as soon as he was in the kitchen he noticed the unusal silence surrounding the area. Y/n was nowhere in sight, neither was the coffee pot that was usually ready by now. He let out a small ‘huh’ as he walked out of the kitchen, heading for Tony’s lab.

“Good morning Stark.” He said as soon as he entered his lab.

“Ah, Barnes. To what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my sanctuary?” Tony spoke in his usual lively tone of voice.

“I was actually looking for Y/n. Didn’t see her in the kitchen like every other day.”

“That’s because she won’t be coming in today. She texted me earlier to let me know she wasn’t coming to work.” Tony explained and turned back to whatever trinket he was working with.

To say that he was surprised wouldn’t begin to truly explain whatever he was feeling after Tony’s words. Y/n never took a day off of work, unless she had other plans that she usually told Bucky about, but her not showing up today was a little weird. He quickly sent her a text asking if she was okay before he went down to the gym for his morning training with Steve.

The entire time he was a little disoriented, but he blamed it on the lack of the dose of caffeine this morning, however something deep inside him told him it was something else. His confusion only grew when more than two hours later he still hadn’t received a reply from Y/n.

It was now almost eight in the evening and he still hadn’t heard anything from her. He tried calling her but it went directly to the voicemail. Maybe she’s busy, maybe her battery died, maybe she has other stuff to take care of. There were a million thoughts that went through his head, but he refused to think negatively. She’d informed Tony she wasn’t going to work, surely she had a good reason not to go, but if she’d been able to text him this morning she had to be fine.

However his thoughts only served to feed his worried heart more as almost a week passed and Y/n never showed up to work. Every day Bucky would ask Tony about her and every day Tony would tell him she’d texted him to inform him she couldn’t make it for the day. Every day his messages and calls would go unanswered as she apparently turned off her phone immediately after she texted Tony.

It was only the next Monday, exactly nine days later, that she finally came back to the tower. Bucky was in the kitchen, drinking the not so tasty coffee Steve had fixed him - he had to settle for Steve’s shitty coffee as long as Y/n wasn’t there - when he finally saw her, walking quietly and with small steps he almost missed her. When he saw her he got up from his seat, a wash of relief overcoming his senses, but it was over too quickly as he saw the look in her face when he spoke to her.

“Y/n, you’re back.” The sound of his voice startled her and she visibly flinched, confusing Bucky even more. “Are you okay?” He asked and moved a step closer to her, only to have her move a step back in reaction. He immediately stopped. She moved her head up to finally look at him. When they eyes met, he could finally see the far away stare that was fixed in her eyes, as if she wasn’t even there. The glint of joy she usually carried in her face was gone, replaced by pale skin and dark circled under her eyes. “What happened?” He asked, concern evident in his voice. She was scaring him. She had never looked this weak, this… Sick.

She only shook her head slightly and moved around him, reaching for the coffee pot to make the coffee. She worked in silence and Bucky could only look at her figure. She looked thinner than a week ago, weaker, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her.

She made the coffee and filled two mugs, picking one up to bring to Tony and leaving the other on the counter for Bucky. Nothing for herself. Then she left the kitchen, wordlessly, quietly, like she hadn’t even been there. The only proof of her existence that morning was the steaming cup of coffee that was resting on the counter.

He didn’t see her for the rest of the day. Then again for the rest of the week. He knew she was coming to work because every morning he’d find a steaming hot cup of coffee waiting for him, but he never saw her there when he entered the kitchen. She was ignoring him, doing her best to never even run into him during the day. He had no idea where she was hiding most of the time, but he never bothered to find her, thinking she just wanted to stay away from him.

The fear in her eyes that first day she came back still haunted him. She’d never been afraid of Bucky before, but that day only the sound of his voice had been enough to startle her.

He missed her. He missed her more than he’d like to admit, but it seemed as if Y/n was determined to avoid him at all cost. He never saw her anymore, not when she arrived at the tower in the morning, not during the day, not even when it was her time to leave the tower. He had no idea if she’d changed her entire schedule only to not run into Bucky anymore, but it still hurt him to not be able to spend time with her anymore.

He had to ask someone about what was going on and who better to ask than Tony. After all, he was her boss, and she would have told him at least something. With a goal set in his mind, he walked to Tony’s lab, expecting to find him there, but what he found, or rather whom, shocked him to his core.

Y/n was sitting on the floor, her legs brought to her chest, she was actually making herself as small as possible. She was crying and pulling at her hair, heavy sobs leaving her throat. As soon as he saw her, he ran to her. “Y/n.” He called her name and crouched down next to her, gripping her wrists to make her let go of her hair. However, that only seemed to make the situation worse because she started to cry more and scream for him to let her go and not touch her. He immediately let go of her, putting his hands up in the air to show her he meant no harm.

She crawled away from him, then got up to her feet to walk away, but as soon as she reached the door of the lab she lost consciousness and collapsed on the floor. Bucky ran to her and gathered her in his arms, moving her around and placing her on the small cot in the lab. His heart was breaking at the sight of her. When he laid her down he noticed small bruises on her wrists and he cursed himself, thinking he did those to her, but then he noticed more peeking from underneath the sleeve of her shirt and he moved it up, uncovering the bruised skin of her arms. There was definitely no way he did those to her, he was sure of that. But somebody else had.

Tony entered the lab and saw Bucky hovering above her, lightly patting her cheek to wake her up. “What happened, Barnes?” He asked, a little alarmed at the sight of Y/n unconscious.

“Oh God, Stark you’re here.” Bucky continued to explain exactly what happened to Tony, from the moment he’d found Y/n having a breakdown on the floor, to the moment she fainted.

“I’m gonna have Friday diagnose her. She hasn’t looked well all week.” As Friday scanned her limp body in silence, Bucky couldn’t help but stare at her pale face. He couldn’t move his eyes away from her even if he tried, lost in her features until the Irish voice of the AI broke him off of his trance.

“It appears that miss Y/n had suffered a lot of panic attacks these last couple of weeks and she has several bruises on her body. She seems to have been violated, sir.” Friday concluded and Bucky and Tony could only stare at each other, shocked at what Friday had said.

They moved her to the med bay and called Bruce to hook her up to an IV and give her some medication. Bucky was sitting on the chair next to her bed when she woke up, panicking when she couldn’t make out her surroundings.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He spoke softly, trying not to startle her and it worked.

“What happened?” She asked in a small voice, a little hoarse from all the screaming before.

“I’m not sure.” Bucky replied, a little unsure. “You were having a breakdown when I found you in the lab, then you passed out.” He explained. She could only nod in understanding and turned her head to the other side, not looking at Bucky anymore. He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t bare to look at her so weak, so vulnerable. She’d always been joyful and alive, especially around Bucky. Cautiously, he touched her hand and took it in his, and despite her flinch he didn’t let go, softly cradling her hand in his flesh one and rubbing his thumb on her knuckles. “Y/n, will you tell me what happened?”

She turned her head to him, ready to tell him nothing had happened, too ashamed to tell him the truth, but as soon as her eyes met his she knew he already knew, he had somehow learned the truth, he just wanted her to tell him the entire thing.

She stared up at his face. This was Bucky. The Bucky she’d have coffee every day with, the same Bucky she’d talk for hours on end whenever she wasn’t busy with work, the same Bucky she’d spend hours of sleepless nights texting, the same Bucky who had congratulated and hugged her when she became an aunt, the same Bucky she had helped after one particularly bad mission, the Bucky she called her friend, the Bucky she wanted to be more than friends with. The Bucky she had countless of daydreams about.

Those dreams were over though. She looked at his pure, blue eyes and she couldn’t help but feel like she was dirty herself. She couldn’t tell him what happened, he would never look at her the same after that. But as he sat there next to her, rubbing circles on the back of her hand, patiently waiting for her to find the voice and speak, she did just that.

She couldn’t keep it inside anymore. It had been more than two weeks and she hadn’t talked to anyone about what had happened that night. “It happened that night I left the tower later than usually.” She finally started to speak, despite the tremble in her voice.

Bucky knew immediately about which night she was speaking of.

She explained everything that happened, stopping to wipe the tears from her face every other minute, reliving every moment of that dreadful night in her mind. Bucky could only listen as she spoke, not daring to interrupt her for fear of spooking her more. It seemed like she needed to get what happened out of her chest, so he let her tell everything to him, despite his heart breaking with every word that left her mouth.

By the time she finished speaking, he felt his cheeks wet from the tears. He hadn’t noticed but he had started crying too. He could only hold her hand, not knowing what to really say. He wished he could turn back the time and undo what was done, but he knew that was impossible.

“I’m so sorry.” He said the words between tears and Y/n was surprised by them. She had been expecting him to let go of her hand, to say she was tarnished now, unworthy of kindness in any capacity, but instead he was apologizing to her for something he wasn’t even guilty of. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you, baby.” He spoke again and Y/n’s breath hitched in her throat.

She shook her head slightly, wanting to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but no words left her mouth. “Can I hold you, please?” He asked then and she thought about it for a little before nodding her head hesitantly.

He moved to sit on her bed, his arms wrapping around her torso, holding her in his embrace firmly.

Y/n had thought that being touched by a man again would only remind her of that other man’s touch, but as Bucky held her body close to his, she figured this was the first time in weeks she felt safe. In his arms she felt like she could breathe again after all this time. Her hands fisted his shirt, not letting him go, hiding her face in his chest to inhale his scent, a scent she had related since way before everything happened to safety, to happiness.

As they were staying on the bed hugging each other closely, heavy sobs escaped Y/n’s mouth and she started to cry again. Bucky let her let it all out as she rocked her body softly and after some time she was finally out of tears, only small whimpers of pain left her lips.

He could feel his shirt was wet from her tears but he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind at all as long as she was feeling better.

Eventually she let go of his shirt and tried to shift away from him. Immediately he let go of her and she felt her move her body so her head was resting on his lap. All that crying had taken a toll on her and she was exhausted.

Bucky’s hand moved to her head, playing softly with her hair and soon he felt her breath evening out, almost as if she had fallen asleep. “Please don’t leave me.” She said in a small voice but he heard it either way and he’d be damned if he ever left her side again.

Soon enough she fell asleep and Bucky’s mind was running a million miles per minute as he thought about everything she’d told him before.

Bruce and Tony entered the room they were in, surprised to find them in that position.

“Bruce I need you to give her another sedative. She needs to sleep for the rest of the night and I have some work to do.” Bucky talked low and slow, not wanting to wake Y/n up and Bruce only nodded at his request.

Carefully he maneuvered out from underneath her and placed her head on the plush pillow. He placed a quick peck on her forehead before walking out of the room, Tony following behind him.

“What’s going on?” He asked and Bucky explained him what had happened, not going into details because 1) he didn’t want to share Y/n’s horrible experience with anyone (it was her decision who she talked to about it) and 2) he couldn’t even form the words to say what had really happened even if he tried.

“I’m gonna find that son of a bitch and kill him.” He said finally, a dark look on his features, the Soldier look.

“I’m coming with you.” It was all Tony said before they walked together out of the tower.

Hacking the street cameras, they were able to identify the man that had raped Y/n from the moment he had started to follow her and it was even easier to locate the bastard.

When they found him in his apartment, which was surprisingly in the same block as Y/n’s, Bucky had unceremoniously pulled the trigger and shot him in his crotch. The man had screamed in pain and cursed out loud. Bucky had wanted to make him suffer in pain for as long as possible, but then he thought of Y/n, of the pain she was going through, so he decided that scumbag didn’t deserve even one more inhale of oxygen. So he’d shot him again, this time a bullet piercing his heart and leaving him dead in an instant.

Tony had said nothing as he stood near Bucky the entire time, not even wearing his suit. It wasn’t Iron Man who was taking revenge, it was Tony Stark, and a perverse feeling of contentment filled him when he saw the life leave the body of the scumbag that was now laying dead before their feet.

When they returned to the tower, Y/n was still asleep, so Bucky decided to take a shower and change before he went back to her.

The streaks of sun entered the room from the half closed blinds, falling directly to Bucky’s eye and effectively waking him up. He picked his head up to look at Y/n, looking at her already awake, staring at him in silence. She looked a little better today, calmer even.

“Good morning.” He said sleepily and she greeted him in return. “Are you okay?” He asked then and she only nodded her head affirmatively. He gave her a small smile and moved his hand to touch her cheek, but she flinched away from his touch.

“I’m sorry.” He was quick to apologize, not at all offended by her reaction. It was natural, she needed time, too much time to heal, and Bucky was willing to do whatever in his power to help.

She shook her head, wordlessly telling him he had nothing to be sorry for, and slowly reached her hand out to grab his, intertwining their fingers together. Bucky looked down at their joined hands and smiled. He would wait his entire life for her to heal, to be ready for his touch and he was more than happy with just holding his hand.

“I understand if you think I’m sullied now, because I am. And I get it if you don’t want to be my friend anym-” she started speaking but Bucky interrupted her.

“Hey, none of that, please. You’re not sullied. You’re still Y/n. You’re the same person you were two weeks ago, the same lovely woman I’ve known for months, the same woman I’ve grown to…” He stopped himself from speaking more, not because what he was about to say was untrue, but because he didn’t want to overwhelm her, not now that she was so vulnerable. But she had her teary eyes fixed on him, waiting for him to continue speaking, silently urging him to finish what he started, so he resumed again after a deep breath.

“Y/n, I know this is probably the worst time for me to tell you this, but I really like you. I have liked you for quite sometime and I still do, I still will, no matter what. I didn’t want to say anything because of this situation now, but I figured I should be honest with you.” He confessed almost breathlessly and she only kept staring at him in disbelief.

“You can’t like me anymore.” She then spoke, voice trembling and tears falling freely from her eyes. “I’m broken Bucky.”

He wiped her tears from her face gently and then softly cupped her cheeks. “You’re not broken. You’re just a little wounded now, and that’s understandable. But you’re not broken. You’re you. I told you. Nothing has changed for me. I still have feelings for you and I will wait as long as you want me to, if you decide you can ever give me a chance.” He held her face firmly but gently in between his hands and Y/n couldn’t tear her eyes from his, tears spilling freely at his words.

She nodded her head slowly, than without even a word she moved to hug him closely to her. Bucky welcomed her in his arms and held her there for a long time. He could feel her heart beating, so close to his and he could feel her soft breath tickling the skin of his neck where she was hiding her face.

“I wanna go back to sleep. I hadn’t been able to sleep for days before last night.” She confessed and Bucky moved to release his grip from her body, to allow her to lay down, but she didn’t let him go too far. “Will you lay down with me?” She asked and he nodded his head, because of course he would lay down with her. He would do anything for her.

He laid down beside her and she was quick to curl her body next to his, her head resting on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, allowing his heartbeat to calm her more. Bucky wrapped his arms around her shoulders, one of his hands moving up and down her back in soothing motions, and the other, the metal one, playing softly with her hair, lulling her back to sleep.

A moment later he began singing words of a song she had never heard of before, softly whispering the words close to her ear.

… Nothing in this world Can keep us apart Oh my dearest darling I offer you my heart …

She knew she had a long way before her, a long way before she could go back to some kind of normalcy, before she’d go back to the person she was before, or maybe just at least try to, but she knew that with Bucky by her side she’d be alright. She was half asleep when he sang the next words of the song, making her heart soar in her chest.

Whenever you need me I’ll be there by your side Oh, I pledge my love to you With God as our guide…

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines

[goldenncherrybombb]

Falling

This is gonna be a double update!! TBSL should be posted soon so keep any eye out ;) This chapter is different kinda. But you’ll see what I mean maybe. Anyways, you get to know more about y/n in this because I wanted to add more about her so sorry if it doesn’t fit you at times. Anywayssss, enjoy :)

need to catch up?

masterlist

WARNINGS: none ;)

Word count: 3k

this isn’t edited so if there is any mistakes, my bad

The one where Harry is falling again 

The London air whips around Harry harshly, the cold bitter wind nipping at his skin. He picks up his pace when rain starts to fall, getting into his mum’s house just in time.

 “Harry!” She cheers, coming out from the kitchen with a cuppa in her hand. She sets it down on the coffee table before hugging him. As soon as her scent engulfs him Harry feels his eyes tear up. He sniffles and his mum hugs him tighter, not saying anything and letting him get it out first.

 “Who am I, mum? I feel so lost, an’ empty an’ I don’t want to feel that way. I just-I just don’t know wha’ t’do anymo’.” Her hand rubs up and down his back and she coos at him. 

“‘S alright, love. Sometimes you gotta get worse before you get better. ‘S just a hurdle you can get over. Ya are my baby boy. Yeh can do anything you put yeh mind too. Look at what yeh’ve accomplished. I know it sucks now, but trust me H, she isn’t doing much better either. You just needed a break. That’s all this is.” He listens to his mum and takes in her advice.“I know this feeling won’t last forever, but it hurts.” He whispers and Anne puts her hands on his cheek to make him look at her. “I know it hurts love, but pain is temporary.” She smiles at him and he cracks a smile at the saying. She always told him and Gemma that. “Now, I just made some biscuits so let’s go stuff our faces.” He chuckles at her and follows her into the kitchen.

 They have tea as well and he catches her up on everything that’s been going on. She listens and gives motherly advice here and there. “How do you know she isn’t doing that well?” Harry questions, not being able to forget what she said earlier. 

“She’s called me a few times, asking if I’ve heard anything about you, how your doing, and asking for some advice. It wasn’t easy for her to make that decision, H. She still loves you, and I know it’s hard to hear right now and maybe hard to believe. But it’s the truth. And I know you still love her. Just give it time, love. I know she is end game for you.” He cracks a smile at her words and nods. 

This is exactly why he came to London before he went to Japan. His mum always makes him feel better. When he comes back home it’s like all worries are washed away from him. 

Gemma joined them for dinner. Her and Harry joked around with each other as they helped Anne make dinner. After dinner they played a few rounds of scrabble before Harry went back to his house, tired from his long flight.

 He hadn’t been back to his London house in almost six months. It felt weird walking in and seeing all the photos of him and y/n, but he did his best to ignore them, not having the heart to take them down. It felt wrong.

 He took a shower and got ready for bed, finding a bag full of y/n’s stuff in the closet that he shoved in the back. But as he was trying to sleep he couldn’t stay still and kept tossing and turning. He had a melody in his hand and he couldn’t rest till he figured out what it was. So he got up and walked downstairs to his grand piano. He sat down then pulled his phone out and went to voice memos before he started trying different keys. Once he found the one’s he was looking for he tried new things and added on to it. Lyrics starting popping up in his head and he started to sing softly, stopping sometimes and trying new keys or a different lyric. His journal was open so he started to write what he doing down before playing again. 

I’m in my bed

And your not here

And there’s no one to blame but the drinks and my wondering hands 

Forget what I said

It’s not what I meant

 And I can’t take it back-

“Fuck. Now ‘m stuck.” He train of thought disappeared and he started to look around. 

His eyes were glued to a certain photo of his ex-lover smiling widely with  flowers in her hair as she puts some in Harry’s and he looks up at her curiously. It was one of his favorites from the Jamaica trip for his first album. It was before they got together but to everyone besides them it was so obvious they liked each other and Mitch always made sure to let Harry know.

***

She swims up next to Harry who is swimming in his underwear and has his arms on his surfboard. He smiles widely at something Mitch is saying, laying a kiss on her temple before laughing at him. Mitches words replay in Harry’s head.

“You guys just need to get together already. It’s obvious how much you guys like each other, H.” And all Harry did was bashfully smile and tell him she doesn’t feel the same as he watches her swim around them, her snorkeling goggles on.

It goes quiet and the only thing heard is the waves crashing on shore and the birds above. She climbs onto Harry’s board with his help and lays back, stretching her arms above her head. 

“It’s pretty here innit?” He questions, turning his head to look at her and watch as she looks around with curious eyes.

 “It’s beautiful. Feel like I could stay here forever.” She replies with a dreamy sigh. Mitch and Harry chuckle and Mitch agrees. 

When they get back to shore and have showered and redressed they all meet in the back patio. Harry and Mitch have a guitar, Jeff is on his laptop next to Mitch, and the rest or Harry’s crew sit around on the patio furniture. Harry is sitting under a Ixora Ixora Coccinea. A tree that has beautiful red/orange flowers. 

When the wind blows the flowers fall and y/n has been sticking them in her braid she has. Then when she was happy with her hair she started putting them in Harry’s. Hélène laughed when she noticed and snuck a photo.

 A wide smile is on her face as she is happy with her work so far, and Harry is looking up at her curiously and lovingly. Both of their eyes shine and the colors of y/n’s dress stick out with the colorful tree in the background. 

The sessions finishes before dinner time, everyone content with their progress. Y/n helped and gave her pointers, Mitch showing Harry new ideas he came up with, and Harry giving his input and showing everyone what he has so far.

 After dinner Harry and y/n went to Harry’s room to watch a rom-com. Harry had a matching red button up and shorts on, and y/n couldn’t wait to steal the shirt one day. When they shut the lamps off Harry pulled y/n into his front so he could spoon her.  He pressed a soothing kiss to her head and her eyes fluttered shut. 

“Goodnight.” They both whispered at the same time making them laugh lightly. Their legs were tangled together and his arm was firmly wrapped around her as they slept, a content smile on his face. 

***

I can’t run pack the bag that you left 

The conversation he had with his mom earlier in the night replays in his head as he thinks of new lyrics. 

What am I now

What am I now

What if I’m I don’t want around

What if I’m down 

What if I’m out 

What if I’m someone you won’t talk about

His eyes travel back to the picture as the words flow out of his mouth easily.

I’m falling again

 I’m falling again

 I’m falling 

When he finishes and is happy abotut his prgress he sends the file to Mitch and Harpoon, wanting to know what they think. He fills a glass of water and replies to some emails before heading back up the stairs and going to bed.

The next morning when he wakes up and looks at his phone seeing he sees he has a text from Gemma asking him to go out to breakfast with her. He replies and gets up to get ready for the day. 

He meets Gemma at a newer restaurant with modern decor. Gemma is at a booth in the back scrolling on her phone when he sees her. She looks up and smiles at him, waving him over. 

Once Harry sits she puts her phone down reaches over to mess up his hair, knowing it would make him mad. “Gem, stop it.” He chuckles, fixing his hair as she laughed lightly.

 “Sooo, we didn’t get to catch up much yesterday. What have yeh been up too?” She questions, sipping on her water.

 “The usual, writing, and recording, then more writing, and maybe an event here and there.” He shrugs and grabs the black coffee she got him. 

“How about you, how have you and Michael been?” She perks up at the mention of Michael, her boyfriend of a few years. 

“Good. Really good actually. He accompanied me to an event a few days ago actually, it was really fun, and also insightful.” The waitress sets their food down in front for them, pancakes for Harry and french toast for Gemma. “Knew yeh would want some pancakes .” 

“‘S my favorite breakfast food as you know. You and I used to make a mess trying to make pancakes cuz we ended up throwing the batter at each other.”  They both laugh at the memory. 

“Mum was so mad at us.” Harry nods in his head in agreement as she reminsces on another memory.

“The rest of the breakfast they catch up more and enjoy their food. “I heard about what happened, h.” She talks quietly, and with a small frown on her face. “‘M sorry that happened, thought she was the one for ya.” Harry wipes his mouth with his napkin and clears his throat at the painful reminder because he thought she was too. “Probably shouldn’t of said that.” She mumbles to herself, the mask Harry’s putting on not fooling her. 

“How about I pay for this and then we go shopping?” Harry shakes his head at her. 

“Yer not paying, I am.” She shakes her head and they both go for the checkbook at the same time, Gemma winning. “Gem, I can pay for it myself, ‘s no big deal.” Gemma pays no mind to him as she counts her money out. 

“‘S like you said, no big deal.” She smiles at him and sets the check down. “Now let’s go shopping.” She cheers, sliding out of the booth.

***

 Back in the states Y/N went back to her hometown and is staying there for a few days before she has to go to New York and do interviews. She missed her parents and needed the comfort and distraction they give her. 

When she arrived home her mom opened the door with open arms, seeing how tired and sound her daughter looked. She pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly as she sniffled into her shoulder.

“Oh honey,” Her mom, Angela, cooes, rocking her back and forth slowly to calm her down. Her dad, Ben, comes to the front door thinking his wife was calling for him but when he sees y/n he joins the hug.

 “It’ll be ok baby bop. It takes time, and in the mean your mom made our favorite cookies and I got some Malibu and pineapple juice calling our name.” Y/n chuckles at her dad while wiping her tears.

Her dad carries her luggage into the house as her mom pulls her to the kitchen. When her dad joins he starts making their drinks and y/n munches on a cookie.

 “Benjamin! That’s a lot of Malibu.” Her mom laughs and shakes her head. “‘S like he’s trying to give us alcohol poisoning!” Y/n laughs and shakes her head. 

Her mom and dad were the main reason she is a hopeless romantic. After thirty two years together there is still so much love. If you were to meet them for the first time you would think they had just got married with how much love the show and how they are constantly joking around and messing with each other. Her mom was the one who got her into music. There was always music playing when she was growing up, her mom always singing around the house off key as Ben looked at her like she was the biggest pop star and had the loveliest voice. So when y/n started to sing and didn’t get her mom genes with the singing abilities they were all blown away because neither of her parents could sing.

They were all sat in the living room watching old home videos. Their cups in hand as they laugh at the videos and share stories. The video playing was one of y/n when she was around two. She had only a diaper on and some boots, she was playing the piano and singing to her mom. Obviously it wasn’t good and she laughs at her horrible rendition of ‘Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds” by The Beatles. Her mom laughs when she sings “wucy” instead of “Lucy.” 

The next video is one of her around eight years old. She got her second guitar and wrote a song for her parents. She was in their living room singing shyly for them and at the end her mom claps loudly, saying “My babies gonna be a rock star someday.’ As she cheers for her.

“Who would've guessed that would come true?”  Her dad questions, his eyes glossy. She looks at her mom and sees tears trailing down her cheek.

“No don’t cry!” Y/n says, getting up to squish in between them.“Their happy tears, baby bop.” Her mom says, messing her hair up making her laugh. “We’re just so proud of you. You worked so hard and now look at you! Touring all over the world and you have two number ones with only one album out!”

 “It is crazy. But you both know I wouldn’t be here without my fans and I want to thank you guys for being my first and helping me get to where I am today.” She smiles at her parents and her mom yells ‘group hug’ making y/n laugh as her parents crush her into a hug.She wakes up at around three am in need of a drink. 

When she walks into the kitchen she sees her dad and she accidentally scares him. He drops the doughnuts he was eating on the floor, thankfully none of them fall out of the box.

“Jesus you scared me!” He tells her and she apologizes before opening the fridge. “What’s on your mind, y/n?” He questions, not missing his daughters sadness in her eyes.

“Just miss him is all.” She replies, laying her head on her dad's shoulder. “I just feel terrible because I left him and I still love him so I feel guilty because I want to be with him more than anything right now but how can you love someone that doesn’t love them self? But I feel guilty because what if I finally tell him how I feel and he doesn’t feel the same anymore or he hates me now? I just lost a best friend and the person I thought was my forever.” Her dad takes a minute to reply, letting her words sink in and thinking of the best advice he could give her.

“Love takes time, y/n. You think me and your mom never had our rough patches? We took a break once too, for a similar reason. We both needed to work on ourselves before we could be together, we wanted to be the best person we could be for each other because we know both of us don't deserve any less. He still loves you y/n, trust me. I know you guys aren’t talking but you know how much your mom adores him so when he called her she talked to him for hours about you. That was only a few days ago actually.” She smiles because she did the same thing with Anne. Since her and Harry were friends for so long both of our families are close and he is as close to my parents as I am his, especially Anne.

“I don’t even know where he is right now. I know he left Malibu but he never told me where he was going. I just miss how it was. Wish I could go back and relive it. Or I at least wish I could tell him how I feel.” 

“You gotta shoot your shot before you miss it, kid.” She huffs and sets her mug in the sink next to his

.“If it was only that easy.” She whispers before saying goodnight to her dad.

She thinks it’s safe to say she’s fallen again

#sad times :( #goldenncherrybombb #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfics #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles angst imagine #harry styles series #harry styles drabbles #harry styles black #harry styles x reader #best friend!harry #harry styles au

[tinycaprisun]

a song not about love

title: a song not about love characters: chuck taylor x trent beretta word count: 1864 part: 1/1 warnings: mild cursing, no character names are said (but the perspective is alluded to be chuck’s and the “best friend” is trent) a/n: hi! so, holy crap i’m actually doing this... i know, it’s freaking me out too. i guess for context, yesterday i literally did not sleep at all and in a 5 am sudden burst of energy, this little fic came out of my brain. i’ve never posted my work online before, so this is kind of a big thing for me? also, this is so different from how i normally write because there is next to no dialogue, and it’s not, uh... funny? but it sure is something ahah

He won’t say it. That one fucking word that has been tormenting him for what feels like his entire life. He will not under any circumstance say it, or hell, even feel it. It sets you up for failure, for a gashing claw directly to your heart as it punctures and plays with what little you have left.

It’s like that song from Hercules, he thinks. The one where Meg is singing by the fountains about her feelings for Hercules and denying them every step of the way. It feels like that, except the brunette knows this isn’t some sappy Disney movie. This is real life, the one that made him hate himself every time he looked in a mirror. The one that gave him no other option to cope with everything that swirls in his mind at blinding rates than to drown what he does have away. 

Words were never his strong suit, with him always clinging to actions and movement, as more often than not, his mouth would betray him with what would come out of it. 

There’s this burning sensation, festering deep under his skin, well into the flesh, that tingles and jumps no matter what he does. It gets worse when he’s around. Not that he would know it, his friend was never good at picking up on just about anything. Itching, almost, with him unconsciously rubbing his arm over and over trying to forget that was where he had last touched him. A congratulatory pat, and that was it.  

The thought of already being dead crosses his mind. That perhaps, he is already dead, and that what he is living now would be his own personal hell. Set up explicitly to torture him for the wrongdoings of when he was alive. He wonders what that life was like, and if the people he knew now were there. That gave him no solace, as even if he were still living, there would still be his best friend there ruining it all.

Ruin in the best way possible, he amends. Because without him, the brunette can’t picture his life in any capacity. There would be none as far as he is concerned. There was so much of him that did not have, that lived in his friend.

Someone a long time ago said they were soulmates. Platonic, he assumed at that moment, was what the man meant. All this time later, he knows what he was getting at. He won’t say it, he never will, but he knows why the other man said it. That memory liked to crawl into his brain sometimes, replaying like a song you have stuck in your head until you can’t take it anymore and finally listen to it. It does not ease your pain, the song is still stuck. 

Soulmates were someone that housed all of the pieces of you that you did not have. The parts of you that you could fully - the word - because they were in someone else. Maybe that was why he liked keeping his friend around all the time. Because they were the same person.

Except they weren’t. His only slightly shorter friend was better than him at literally everything, not that it bothered him. It just made for more to... This was getting harder and harder to not say by the ever so slowly ticking seconds.

His mind takes over again. Blocking him even farther from reality than he already was, to think.

It’s the way he smiles, he ponders. But only when it’s at him. Tiny, unguarded, and sweet like pineapple fluff. Adoration is always in there too; along with warmth, and if he himself was feeling extra in his own head, intense longing. He silently prays for the last one. Never has been sure why, but he hopes with everything he’s got, that it’s in there somewhere.

What was longing? Catching his eyes across the room as they sparkle under even the dingiest of LED lights? They’re brown, like rich earth that used to be beneath their feet when they would do an outdoor show. Exposed from years of treading, letting others walk upon it without question, working down to its most basic form. It’s very core. He decides that him and the earth aren’t so different.

There is no reason to be like this. So deep into his own recesses that even the most forceful of tactics will not rouse him. Akin to a coma, however his eyes are certainly still working and there is definitely a concerned friend staring at him through their own pair of sunglasses and a neutral expression. 

He says something, slow and quiet like he usually does. It does not compute. His friend says it again. He cannot speak, but he can shrug while moving his gaze to stare past him.

It’s radiant over there, a shining oasis asking to have its glory basked in. Unsurprisingly, it’s him. Recognition helps bring back his question. Longing is time. All of it wasted, even if there is still so much to go. No mercy is given to him, not that he believed he deserved it.

His mind jitters and trails off again as it usually does. It’s his voice, he considers. Peering at him would make you guess it’s low and gritty, but he knows far better than that. His voice is of a baritone, but it’s far too uplifting and sometimes outright high to be anything else. Smooth also felt applicable, calmly finding its way to the right words and pitches as his hands say what his mouth can’t. He really enjoys that quality about him.

Reality is boring, he concludes. Sinking back into his cave of wonders and mostly misfortunes he calls his brain. He has his muse of which to think about... again, and the brunette couldn’t be any more content.

Content is the wrong word. Again, he is no good with those, but he does know that content is something he will never be. His is different though, for a reason he will not say. Fuck, are we really back to thinking about longing? For a third time? Is this what he wanted; to be caught in an infinite time loop, ala Groundhog’s Day, where he relives every thought he’s had for the millionth consecutive time? 

To be fair, that was how it always was when he saw him. Everything surfacing at the same time and he gets caught in the crosshairs, winning the wonderful luxury of wading through them again. 

His laugh is nice. His hair looks good today. The tank top he has on is way too tight fitting and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not hard to imagine anyways, he’s seen it a thousand times, having roamed it with his hands. But only briefly, and the idea sends him into a tizzy.

One that marks the end, the one that finally has snapped him and made him have a new goal. It’s like drowning again, except not in his usual Crown. This is one where he actually can’t breathe, unable to get above water safely and take those precious gulps he so desperately desires.

He is standing in front of him now, fueled by this very known force that has a known name that managed to carry his battered body to the other side of the room, without him even noticing. There is no one else in the room. Or maybe there is, but he can’t tell. For him, it’s only his friend and himself, which is all he could ever want.

His best friend asks him how he is. He does not answer. The other brunette seemed vaguely alarmed by this, commenting on this fact and letting the notion hang in the air. There is no true reply, not to what he is asking nor to anything else. They stand in silence, pressure building and concern rising, like a dam that’s about to burst open and destroy everything in its wake.

Being forward has always been his calling card. Breaking any tension or an awkward silence with little tact and a lot of bluntness. He’s rough around the edges, as are most things in his life. 

This one comes off as a cliff though, hurtling himself off of it and waiting until he hits the bottom. But there is none, all there is- is his best friend, still concerned for his well being, because of course he was. Did he really need another reason? 

Now there was even less reason to be cautious. If he didn’t say something now, the brunette was going to faint, the lights behind his green eyes going out like the flickering flames of a candle. Where he would drop, essentially dead to the world, straight to the floor and live there for eternity. Or until his friend kneeled down and checked on him.

That idea… The thought of waking up to his face. Seeing him tending to him because for his friend, life seemingly depended on it. But he didn’t know that. What he did know was that the thick and uncomfortable quiet that had filled the room; reminiscent of a smog like haze, was becoming unbearable. 

Caution. Wind. Blunt. Do it. He has to. He will explode if he doesn’t. His best friend is staring at him with what feels like baited breath and stitched brows. He looks completely mental, clearly needing to say something, anything really to amend the situation. At this point it doesn’t matter, he’s so gone for him that even if this irreparably damages their relationship, he would at bare minimum be rewarded with getting real sleep at night.

His mouth opens on its own accord, letting the words waterfall out nearly unceremoniously as he keeps eye contact with his friend.

“I’m in love with you.” 

He says it. 

The one fucking word that has been tormenting him for what feels like his entire life. He says it out loud, to his best friend’s face, with a few words before and after it. Sure, he could say that they don’t matter as much to this whole ordeal he got himself into, but truly, they make up the full saying that has been playing on loop on his head for months. 

His friend doesn’t react, not instantly, staring at him with a blinking gaze as either his brain self-destructs, or tries to figure out a way to let him down easy. Heavy doubt sinks into his bones, weighing him down and taking residence within him. 

It’s a new, hellish, spiraling sensation that the brunette was not ready for. He was used to his usual downward hole of thoughts, usually brought about by his unmitigated need to bash himself, but this… This feeling didn’t even compare, with it being so much more destructive and raw, it opened him up like he was a frog being dissected and leaving him vulnerable to the world.

He finally speaks, his words soft and slightly timid as he can’t seem to look away from him. Unlike what he was expecting, his friend's expression was open and understanding, albeit still taken aback by his forwardness.

“I… I love you too.”

#chuck taylor #trent beretta #chuckie t #trent? #no real names #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #shut it liz #tinycaprisun writes #my writing #chuck tea #trenty b #fics #current song: why not me

[taetaespeaches]

“Please be here when I get back”

Namjoon x Reader (or oc)

Genre: fluff

Word count: 2.7K 

a/n: Here’s just a little scenario to celebrate our wonderful sweet Joonie. I hope you all enjoy this, and as always, thanks for reading! :)) Happy birthday Joon!

 WAKING up today was supposed to be wonderful. It was a day worth celebrating, and you had plans to do just that. However, you could already feel your mood was much too sour for a day like today. Before opening your eyes, you first took in the warmth of the body next to you, your arm carelessly draped across his bare chest. Coming into consciousness, you observed the man, watching his breath fill and exit his lungs as he peacefully slept. 

You then took in the unusual darkness of the room. Peeking over the man, you checked the time. It was 8:30 am, the sun should definitely be up. Rolling over onto your other side, you look towards the window, looking for signs of light. The sun had risen, but it wasn’t looking very bright. Dammit. 

Pulling your attention away from the disappointing weather, Namjoon wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his body, you both meeting in a cozy back hug. 

Humming in approval of his touch, Namjoon chuckled in your ear. Nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck, you flinched at the chill. “Your nose is freezing,” you noted, turning in his arms to face him. 

“Mm, it’s cold in here,” he replied, looking down at you. You groaned in annoyance of the chill in the room. A small smile formed on Joon’s lips. “You’re cute.” You groaned louder causing Namjoon to chuckle before placing a small kiss to your forehead. 

“Happy birthday,” you whispered, leaning forward to kiss his throat softly. The hum of his vocal chords tickled your lips as he whispered a thank you. “I’m pretty sure the weather ruined my plans for your day,” you complained, attempting to keep your disappointment at bay. 

“Hmm?” Namjoon hummed in question as he leaned up to look towards the window. “Are you sure?” He asked as he sat up. 

“Does it look very nice out there?” You asked in slight annoyance before quickly trying to cover it up when he looked at you with raised eyebrows. “I don’t know for sure, it just doesn’t look promising.” You sat up as Namjoon nodded, slowly turning towards the window again.

You watched your boyfriend as he sat up, his toned back beautiful and strong. As he walked towards the window, you admired the way his boxer briefs hugged his thighs. When he opened the window, a small “shit,” escaped his lips. 

“Bad?” You asked as you stood up.

“Well,” he started, looking back at you. “It’s not great.” Walking over to him, you peeked over his broad shoulder to see the grey sky with big rain clouds forming, the wind picking up by the second sending leaves and sticks tumbling down the street. 

“Fuck,” you pouted, resting your cheek against Namjoon’s shoulder blade. Bending an arm back awkwardly, he managed to rest his hand on your lower back.

“Maybe we should just go back to sleep for a bit, Babe.” Craning his neck to just barely catch your face in his eyesight, he saw you shake your head in protest. 

Squeezing his hand in yours for a moment, you removed it from your back, stepping away from him. “You can go back to sleep. I need to figure out new plans.” 

“Hey,” he called out to you as you went to exit the room. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he assured. You knew his words were meant to be comforting but instead they triggered an annoyance in you. It was probably the dreariness of the day and the last thing you wanted to do was argue on his birthday, so you kept your frustrations at bay. “We can just relax around the house.” 

“It’s your birthday, Joon. I want it to be special,” you said as you left the room, leaving your boyfriend to watch you as you exited. 

Entering the kitchen, you turned on the faucet, grabbing a glass out the cupboard. Giving gravity a helping hand, you pushed the cupboard door shut with a loud bang. Filling the glass, you took a deep breath before bringing it to your lips to take a long drink. 

Leaning against the counter, you tried to assure yourself the day was not ruined. You wouldn’t be able go on a mid-morning stroll without getting drenched in the rain. Ok, scrap that. You also wouldn’t be able to have a picnic with his favorite food in his favorite park. Ok, so we’ll move the picnic inside. You can order the food to the house. The weather was nothing more than an inconvenience, it didn’t have to ruin the day. However, you couldn’t quite break through your bitter mood. Just one of those days. 

Scrolling through your phone to find the number for the takeaway place, your gaze shifted to Namjoon as he walked out of the bedroom, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. The way his eyebrows were drawn together, his lips in a tight pout, you knew his mood had been soured as well. 

You and Namjoon were very much in sync on a mental and emotional level, playing off each other’s energy. Most days, this caused vibrant conversation, understanding and respect for each other’s points of views, and a feeling of security knowing you both had someone who understood you in all situations.

On rare days like this, however, you seemed to absorb each other’s bad moods and negative energy, creating a tense atmosphere where you both tiptoed around each other, not wanting to use the energy as a weapon to unnecessarily attack one another.

Trying to break the tension, you cleared your throat before straightening your body. “Hey, you’re right, we can just order the food here and have a cozy day in.” You told your boyfriend, pushing your own moodiness aside to try to rid him of his. 

With a shrug, Namjoon stepped past you, opening the refrigerator and grabbing the carton of orange juice. “I already told you, it’s not a big deal. We can do whatever you want.” 

Biting your lip, you turned to grab a glass for Namjoon, this time closing the cupboard door gently. Holding the cup in front of him, he nodded a small thanks at you before taking it. 

“I’ll call the place,” you said simply, exiting the room to sit on the chair in the living area, calling the takeaway place. After a moment of silence while the call connected, you were met with an automated voice message saying the place was closed due to a family event. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you complained under your breath. Lowering the glass of orange juice from his lips, Namjoon raised his eyebrows in questions. “What?” 

“They’re closed today,” you said angrily, standing up and stomping towards the kitchen. 

Namjoon watched you closely as you opened the pantry in haste. “What are you doing? Why don’t you just call another place?” 

Pulling food items out, filling your arms with random items, you didn’t spare your boyfriend a glance as you answered him. “How is that special? We do that all the time, I want today to be different,” you informed him, walking towards the counter, opening your arms to let the food items to crash against the surface. 

“And I’ve told you three times now that I don’t care,” he told you in a raised tone. “It’s not a big deal, babe, the thought was there, the weather didn’t cooperate, I’m fine with it.” 

Stopping your movements to look at him, you crossed your arms across your abdomen, taking on a stubborn stance, showing him you weren’t going to budge. “It’s a big deal to me.” 

Placing his glass onto the counter, he observed your form for a moment. “So, what? You’re gonna cook?” 

“Is that so hard to believe?” You asked with an aggravated tone. 

With a scoff, Namjoon shook his head. “No, you just don’t really know how to cook, do you?” Glaring at him, you noticed how his eyes softened as he attempted to save the situation before it progressed into something worse.

“Have you been holding out on me?” He smirked as you sighed in annoyance. “Do you have hidden cooking skills, babe?” 

“Fuck off,” you huffed. With a small chuckle, Namjoon approached you, taking your chin between his fingers, lifting your head up a bit. 

“Yell out if you need help,” he teased just before kissing the tip of your nose.

“Yell for who? You?” You sassed him with a small grin. “What kind of help is that?” 

With a chuckle, Namjoon replied with a “yeah yeah” before connecting his lips to yours, quickly deepening the kiss. You easily melted into his touch, much of your previous frustration dissipating with every movement of his lips against yours. 

Backing your body into the counter, Namjoon bunched your baggy t-shirt in his grasp just above your hips. Leaning back, you hummed, smiling as Namjoon tried to find your lips again. “I have to cook,” you whispered against his mouth, your breath slightly labored. 

Holding his hands up in surrender, he smirked at you. “Four words I never thought I’d hear you say,” he said walking backwards away from you. 

“I hate you,” you laughed. Dimples on full display, he disappeared out of the room, calling out a playful “love you” after he had left your eyesight. Shaking your head, you chuckled to yourself. 

You were looking at the back of a box of pancake mix when you heard the shower turn on, letting you know Namjoon was washing up. Pancakes weren’t the meal you had in mind, but you figured it was the one food you might be able to manage.  

Mumbling the instructions to yourself, you measured out the contents of the mix and the water, stirring it all together with a whisk. Heating a skillet with a little bit of oil, you scooped some of the mixture onto the pan with a ladle. Your ears were met with a small sizzle and you thought to yourself, this isn’t so bad. 

The batter was a little thick, but you didn’t think much of it. Thick pancakes are good, right? Flipping the pancake over, you noticed it had a nice golden color. Holy shit, perfect. Once the other side was done you placed it on a plate next to the stove. You poured more batter into the pan, making yet another perfect pancake. Then another. The next was a little darker in color but still pretty good. 

As you waited for the next pancake to cook, you examined the nearly perfect pancakes on the plate. Squinting your eyes, you noticed the middles looked a little undone. Huffing, you tore a piece of one of the pastries off, inspecting the inside further. Touching the center of the pancake, you pulled your finger away, coated in uncooked batter. “Fucking fuck,” you growled through gritted teeth. 

With almost half of the batter gone, you quickly looked back and forth between the skillet, batter, and half-cooked pancakes. Thinking quickly, you turned the faucet on and placed the bowl of batter under the running water for a few seconds. Turning the faucet off, you stirred the mixture with the ladle. Scooping some of the batter up, you noticed it had become quite watery but you went with it anyway. Pouring it into the skillet, it spread quickly and you could tell it was cooking much faster than the other pancakes. 

Flipping the pancake, you let out a groan at the sight of the charring. Adding more mix to the batter, you tried again, and again it was scorched. Trial and error, adding mix and water, turning the heat down in small increments, the pancakes all ended up scorched. 

Namjoon exited the bathroom wearing his sweatpants low on his hips and no shirt to be met with the scene of you standing next to the stove waving a smoking pan all the way from your feet over your head. 

“What the hell is happening?” Namjoon asked in confusion. “Is something burning?” 

Hearing his question, you tossed the pan onto the stove, turning the burner off, and wiping your flour covered hands onto your shorts and t-shirt. “Obviously I burned the fucking food, Joon. Just like you thought I would.”

“Hey hey, wait,” he tried to interject. 

Waving him off, you headed to the bathroom for your own shower. Namjoon had the urge to follow you but decided to give you some space instead. 

As you washed up, you replayed your pancake fiasco over and over again in your head, and you nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of your cooking skills. 

Stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your form, you snuck a glance of your boyfriend who was reclined on the sofa, eyes glued to his phone screen. Walking into your bedroom, you first noticed the clothes folded nicely on the bed. Namjoon must have laid out a pair of his sweatpants and one of his hoodies for you to dress in. The sweet act simultaneously made you feel warm and idiotic for caring so much about your ruined plans.  

Breathing in deeply, your eyes traveled across the bed, landing on the bedside table, meeting the books neatly placed there. You were taken back to when you first met Namjoon. Your relationship started very sudden and unexpectedly, and what began as a hook up after a night of dancing at a club that neither of you typically frequented, ended up being the most important relationship of your life. 

The morning after your first night together—your first meeting—Namjoon had to rush off for a work commitment. Kissing you slowly, a complete opposite to the haste he had been in seconds earlier as he scrambled to make it out in time, he told you, “please be here when I get back.” 

After an internal debate of whether you should stay or go, a quick shower, and a perusal of the action figures, pieces of artwork, and other various items that were placed around the room that gave you a glimpse of this man’s personality and interests, you spotted those same books on the bedside table. 

You had your own collection of books on your own table, consisting of your favorites. The ones you read time and time again. Those rare books with a weathered spine, indicating the number of times you had opened them.

Sitting down on the bed, you opened one of the books, a shorter one, reading it from cover to cover in the matter of a few hours. When he returned home, you were still there. Now, you had read all of those books beside his bed. 

Getting dressed quickly, you grabbed one of the books and left the bedroom. Your entrance in the living room drew Namjoon’s eyes to you. Sitting up quickly, he placed his phone on the coffee table, giving you his full attention. 

Tapping on the book in nervousness, you gave him an apologetic smile. “So you’re right,” you started. “It’s not that big of a deal, we can still celebrate you.”  

“Babe, it’s ok,” he told you sincerely. “It’s just one of those days.” You nodded slowly, casting your gaze towards the floor. “It doesn’t have to be though. It’s still early.” 

Looking up at him, you nodded quickly, your mood lifting more and more as you looked at his soft features and caring eyes. “Can I read to you?” You held the book up. 

A big dimply smile spread across Namjoon’s face as he patted his lap. “Come here,” he told you happily. Speedily walking towards him, as soon as you were within arms reach he wrapped an arm around the backs of your thighs, pulling you on top of him in a clumsy crash. You laughed loudly as he grunted at the impact. 

“I love you,” you told him with a toothy smile. 

Leaning down, he whispered, “I love you too,” before leaving a lingering kiss to your mouth. 

“Happy birthday, baby boy,” you cooed, Joon flashing you an embarrassed grin, a blush gracing his dimpled cheeks, burying his face into your neck. He left a kiss to your warm skin as you opened the book.

#namjoon #namjoon scenario #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon imagines #namjoon fluff #namjoon drabble #namjoon drabbles #namjoon fic #rm #rm scenario #rm scenarios #rm imagine #rm imagines #rm fluff #rm drabble #rm drabbles #rm bts #namjoon bts #bts #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts drabble #bts drabbles #bts fluff #happy birthday namjoon

[terry-perry]

Preyed Upon pt. 3

As always, (majority of) OCs were created by @ladyfluff​. Give her a follow if you haven’t already.

Also as always, enjoy the read!

They didn’t know what their next move could be after they left Raymond’s place, and all remained silent as they went back to Y/N’s apartment with more than millions of thoughts swimming in each of their heads. Once they got there, they each went about the place like mindless drones, still not one of them saying a word. With Peter being the most active on autopilot, he scurried over to the kitchen and looked through the fridge and cupboards. Luckily he was able to find some things to help keep him occupied for the time being.

Cooking had always been a way for him to cope with tension-filled situations since it was something that kept him busy and his mind at ease. Which was why not long after, when the place began to produce a sweet smelling aroma from the desserts being made, he had a moment where he was feeling a form of contentment. That was until reality came back in the form of Adam.

“What are you doing?” He had asked, looking around the kitchen and witnessing the various ingredients and plates of snacks already made.

“Thought I’d make a little something for Ian,” Peter said. “I’m sure he hasn’t eaten anything since...all this.”

“It looks like a bakery in here, Peter,”

“Well maybe he’s one of those zombies that stress eats!”

Peter let out a sudden, irritated huff and put down the mixing bowl he had been stirring on the counter. It was harsher than intended, with some of the batter jumping out. The two stood there in awkward silence after his outburst, waiting for one of them to at least remotely address the situation they were in.

“Where’s Eve?” Peter asked.

“In the bedroom, having a bit of a row with Ava,”

“What are they arguing about?”

“Eve’s trying to push her into trying to remember whatever can be useful in finding Y/N. While also chastising her over her taste in men,” Adam explained, a ghost of an amused smirk appearing. “Where’s Rowan?”

“In one of the other rooms, talking to a neighbor of ours that’s watching over the pups while we’re gone,”

Neither had asked about the whereabouts of Ian, having seen him go straight up to the roof while mumbling about having a smoke. So seeing no other way to beat around the bush, the younger brother had decided to express what had been on his mind for some time now. 

“Do you remember the first person from our past life that we saw die?” He inquired, almost expecting Adam to not answer. “After we’d been around for a good while?”

“Henry,” Adam responded with.

Peter confirmed with a quiet nod. Their parents had died long before their brother did, but they didn’t include them since they each passed away about five years or so after the three siblings were turned. Although they didn’t attend either of their funerals, it wouldn’t have raised too much suspicion if they had. With Henry, however, it was already a good 40+ years when they caught wind of his nearing death and decided to pay him a visit. Funny enough, it was Y/N that had insisted on going to see him.

“He was just a senile old man on his deathbed,” Peter recalled, sounding so far away. “Didn’t even bat an eye to us looking the way we did.”

He gave a bitter and tight-lipped smile as he remembered the final moments they each shared with their late brother; taking a withered hand and smiling down at him on the raised bed. He had managed to raise his tired eyes that could only widen slightly from seeing his estranged siblings.

“Sweet sister, you’ve grown to be quite the beauty,” he had expressed in a croaking version of his younger voice.

“Adam, you’re due for a shave...Ah, little Peter...I use that term ironically now,”

They had let him spew out tales from their childhood and young adulthood. Peter shook his head a bit when remembering the way Henry had babbled in an almost child-like way, giving his spin on the way he tormented the family growing up. He had always been the one that was more of a bully with the way he “playfully” picked on everyone.

“He was such an asshole,” Peter remarked. “Probably the biggest one when we were kids. But I was still sad to see him go.”

Adam heard the sadness in his voice. He knew he didn’t like to talk about their past lives very often since there weren’t much fond memories to look back on. So it was rare for them to talk about the family that had been dead and gone for centuries now.

“Y/N has always been the good one,” Peter went on to say, appearing to be quite spaced out. “Since the day she was born, she had been so sweet. I don’t know where she could’ve gotten it from. The rest of us  were full of such meanness and resentment.”

“You, at least, had a reason to be bitter,” Adam brought up lamely.

But he was able to see what he meant. Y/N was always someone with a kind heart; an open-minded free spirit that always had at least an ounce of empathy for people. It didn’t matter who you were, she would do what she could to understand you and the things you did. It’s why even when they struggled with seeing eye-to-eye about certain things, they always had been able to confide in her when it came to their deepest emotional thoughts. Whether it be Peter talking to her about his sexuality for the first time, or her helping Adam be momentarily distracted from his darkening thoughts, she was always the light of the family.

“I just keep thinking,” Peter suddenly choked out. “What’s going to happen if we can’t...how we’d react if she-”

“Oi, don’t think something like that for even a second! We’re not going to let that bastard get the best of us.”

“Adam, face facts! He’s got her locked up somewhere and is most likely torturing her every time one toe is out of place. He’s already winning!”

“He isn’t winning!” Adam argued, his voice rising. “The only way he will is if we continue with all this negative thinking. And since that’s coming from me, that should tell you plenty about how much you need to lighten the fuck up.”

The tension grew after that outburst, as though that were possible. Anyone else would’ve been shocked or hurt by the way his stoic demeanor broke so harshly, but Peter only rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I just don’t see how we’ll be able to get her back,”

“There might be a way,” Eve called out.

They turned and found her standing in front of them with a sulking Ava by her side. 

“Ava has something she needs to say,”

“If it’s an apology, I’m not really in the mood for it,” Adam grumbled. Peter just resumed stirring his mix. It’s not that they blamed her for this situation, but they’d be lying if they said that they weren’t more than a little upset with her for bringing Raymond back into their lives. Despite multiple warnings to do otherwise.

“I don’t know where Raymond’s keeping Y/N,” Ava started with. “But I know someone that might,”

That drew their attention back.

----

Everyone had gathered into the living room to hear what Ava had to say.

“A couple days ago before this all happened, Raymond had gone to see Victor,”

“Victor?” Adam inquired. “Are you sure?”

“The guy’s been living in the same place in Brooklyn for over 70 years. I’m sure. I don’t know what he asked from him since I was left in the car while he went inside, but I’m certain whatever it was helped with getting Y/N to wherever she is now.”

“Wait, who’s Victor?” Ian asked.

“He’s someone like us that has been known to get things,” Peter told him. “There’s hardly anything he can’t get his hands on. Especially for the right price.” He threw a question of his own to the rest of the group. “But you don’t suppose he’d actually do business with Raymond, do you?”  

“Only if he wasn’t told everything,” Adam stated. “You know Victor, he doesn’t ask a lot of questions if you flash enough cash his way to keep his mouth shut. He probably doesn’t even know about Y/N.”

“Most likely not. He wouldn’t have sold anything to the asshole if he did.”

“So what now?” Rowan asked next. “Do we just go over to Victor’s and ask him what he may or may not know?”

“It’s better than doing nothing,” Adam reasoned. “If anything, we can go over and see what he has in stock that might help somehow.”

He took a glance at the window, estimating how much was left of the night. “I’ll go there myself, but the rest of you should get some sleep,”

“No, I’m going too,” Peter claimed.

“Are you sure?”

He stepped over to him, a sheepish smile forming on his face. “You were right before. We’re not going to let him get the best of us. We’re going to get her back.”

Adam didn’t say anything except nod in agreement. But then he was spun around by Eve who gave him a worried expression.

“Adam-”

“There’s no sense in all of us going,” he interrupted her with his explanation while giving pleading eyes of his own. “I don’t know what kind of information will be handed to us, or what situation we’ll be landing ourselves in. But I’ll contact you as  soon as I can. Just stay here, please?”

“The things I do for you,” she uttered in return. They then shared a good, loving kiss.

“Hopefully we’ll be back in a night or so,” Peter meanwhile assured his own love. “And if things go well, Y/N will be with us too.”

“I’ll try my best to not worry,” Rowan could only half-joke about that. “And I’ll keep you updated about the babies while you’re away.”

“Thank you,”

“I’m going too,” Ian piped up, getting up from the couch.

“Ian, it’s probably best that you stay here-”

“Yeah, no offense Adam, but I wasn’t asking permission,”

That definitely caught everyone off guard.

“Look, I know you guys are way smarter and stronger than I am -- and there’s still a lot I don’t know about your kind -- but I can still be useful. I want to be, anyway. Because she’s my girl, I want to do what I can to save her.” 

 Adam peered over to Peter who just shrugged and gave him a look that said it was his call. He went back to look at Ian.

“All right, but stay close. I’m sure Victor will be able to supply you with a gun, if needed. You ever use one?”

“Does a paintball gun count?”

“Sure,” Peter answered him with that same weak smile on his face. “We should probably get going before it gets light out.” He returned to Rowan and shared a few more parting words.

Ian stood off to the side as he watched Adam and Peter share goodbyes with their partners. He did his best to ignore the twinge in his heart that came from doing so while also doing what he could to avoid the wandering thought of how he should’ve done better in savoring the last moment he shared with Y/N...

----

Y/N ran her fingers through Ian’s hair while his face stayed hidden in her neck. With his weight on her, she could easily feel his thundering heart as he continued to catch his breath. She started giggling when he lightly rubbed his nose against her cheek. She had no choice but to turn and share several lazy kisses with him. They broke apart eventually, going on to look at each other with hooded eyes and sated smiles.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, still a little out of breath.

“You always say that,” she teased, sliding her arms further down to hug him closer to her.

“That’s because it’s always amazing,”

He gave her one more kiss then rolled off her to go on his side of the bed. They had spent majority of that night between the sheets, only taking breaks every so often to wash themselves off, share a smoke, cuddle or let him recharge with some food. They made love through the dark hours until the transition of the first morning lights when slept it all off.

Had he known that that would’ve possibly been the last time, he would’ve made more of an effort to memorize her movement, the noises she made. He would’ve stayed up a little longer to watch the peaceful way she slept, the cute way her face would subtly twitch from the dreams she had. Had he known what was to come, he would’ve tried harder to keep them in bed. 

----

Adam glanced up towards the rearview mirror and caught sight of Ian in the backseat, still lost in thought since leaving the apartment. Did he even realize they had left? When he turned to look at Peter in the passenger seat, he saw that he was checking on him too. They shared a look with each other afterwards, seeming to be thinking the same thing.

It was usually smarter for their kind to not get too close to many people, safer. But the ones they did have in their lives were always going to be the ones they stayed loyal to and kept safe. The brothers might’ve failed in keeping Y/N away from Raymond’s clutches, but they were going to do everything in their power to get her back. And they were also going to do what they could to make sure Ian was well taken care of. They knew she would’ve done the same if it was Eve or Rowan in his position.

So they made a silent agreement on the way that no matter what happened, he would be protected and come back in one piece.

#Olla #collab #only lovers left alive #adam olla #ian olla x reader #eve olla #Adam X Eve #adam x reader #adam olla x eve olla #adam olla x sister!reader #series #sister #sister!reader #sister reader #Ian x Reader #ian olla #vampire!reader #OC #tom hiddleston imagines #peter olla #fanfiction #angst #anton yelchin #lee pace #x reader #fandom #fanfic

[coeurlskiss]

((To celebrate my return to XIV, a story about what Aurina has been up to! Enjoy!))

Oh good. It’s that dream again.

It’s been less than a moon since it was the truth of my waking, yet night after night I return to it. I don’t know why; all I know is that I no longer even participate in the dream, merely observe it.

I see the cliff face above me through rain blurred eyes, my vision further weakened by squinting. The lashing of windswept rain upon my back and the stone makes every ilm of the ascent more treacherous, but failure is not something I am prepared to consider. So hand over hand I continue the climb.

Looking back, I believe the climb took me only a bell, maybe less. But here in the dream, as it was in life, it seems to take entire days. My soaked cloak and scruffed armor add to the weight, and I curse myself (not for the first time, nor the last) for wearing them in this hunt. The only weight I do not regret is my blade, newly forged and freshly oiled hanging from my shoulders; I feel it hunger for this, and redouble my efforts.

At last I reach the height of the cliff and clamber onto blessedly flat ground, making no effort to rise from the mud. For a while I simply lay there catching my breath, and it is only when thunder booms above that I lift my head.

Behind and below me stretch Vylbrands verdant jungles, all the way to the coast and punctured with chalk white cliffs. Before me and carved into yet another mountain is an ancient cave, at once both a welcoming refuge from the storm and a foreboding danger. Yet to succumb to fear of the later is the same as climbing back down, so I push myself to my feet and enter.

I see marks upon the walls, each a small rune or symbol meant to denote a hunter who has come before me. Those that have been marked through are those who came back from the depths.

Precious few have such a mark.

There were simpler trials; I could have hunted in the lowlands, where my prey is more plentiful. But for my pride, I likely would have; this is a trial for Nuhns and those who aspire to greater things, not an outcast seeking a home.

Moments later, the scraping of my knife still echoing from the walls, I leave my symbol behind and enter the depths.

There is precious little light as I descend into the earth. The faint glow of naturally formed crystals provides scant illumination even for my eyes, but it permits me to see the ragged and forgotten shapes of my preys meals.

Those that looked as if they walked on two limbs are hard to ignore, but I do my best.

I wind through the tunnels, knowing that to forget a single turn is to invite damnation upon myself. Who knows how many runes were unmarked not from the failure to hunt, but the failure to find ones way out.

Then I pause; not out of fear, but because I hear something. A breathing in the darkness, a wet sounding snarl barely louder than my own breath.

I hear it behind me, not in front.

I fall to my knees not in terror but desperate instinct. Despite the fact no contact is made I feel its weight press down on me, suffocating me momentarily with the threat of my demise barely avoided. As I rise I pull a flare from my hip and twist it to life, holding it up.

The coeurl has landed and twisted round to face me, lips pulled back from its fangs as it snarls in anger. Whiskers flick and flare with levinlight at its sides, and in its eyes I see the truth of the situation laid bare.

It was never my prey. I was the prey.

I drop the flare and reach back to grip the hilt of my blade. I feel its yearning to slip free as clockwork mechanisms respond to the tension I place upon it, but I dont draw it yet. I force myself to wait, watching the coeurl.

It growls, then roars stamps a paw. Its next charge is preceded by lightning sparking from its claws, and I hurl myself aside from its tackle.

Not yet.

The beasts tail catches me and sends me off balance, crashing into the wall. Magicless sparks fly from its paws as they drag against stone, arresting its momentum to twist around to face me. With another roar it leaps, and only by rolling along the wall away from it do I avoid being crushed.

Not yet!

The stone crumbles and collapses beneath the pounce, and we both fall through a newt formed hole into a larger chamber. I try not to think of what it is I smell as I roll to my feet, rising and glaring at the coeurl as it scrambles to its feet.

Not yet-!

The crystals in the walls of the cavern glow brighter as the coeurls aether builds, and with a roar and stamping of its paws it unleashes a blast of levin upon me. It cascades upon itself like the tides, racing for me and casting me in a pale blue light.

Now.

I draw my blade at last, and mechanisms catch upon the harness. Gears spin and whistle as the blade sings free, aether infused shells connecting their power to the blade. With a roar of my own I take the blade in both hands and swing it down to meet the charging energy, one finger curled around the trigger and pulling.

The hammer sparks against the chamber and detonates the first shell, unleashing the entirety of its charge. Aether explodes along the length of the blade and splits the lightning in two, singing the tails of my cloak as it passes by on either side. It takes a lot of strength to not let the recoil throw the weapon from my hands, but somehow I manage it.

Instead I swing the blade back and then up, shifting my weight back. One hand leaves the hilt of my weapon to catch the charging coeurls snout in my palm, and my heels dig in to arrest the momentum as much as I can. I feel its heavy breath against my front as my arm is forced back, and know only moments remain before it forces me to the ground.

The pommel of my blade strikes down, catching the coeurl just above the eye. It yelps and stumbles, and I push its head down as my feet lift. I find myself rolling and tumbling along the length of its back, and as I clear it I land a shallow cut along its flank before we part and I strike the ground.

I desperately haul myself to my feet and launch myself on the offensive now, blade swinging down at the coeurl like a hammer blow. Once more a round is triggered at the instant of impact, and I feel bones break beneath the blow.

But that victory has a price, and claws rake against my front, tearing armor from my front. The leather I wear beneath offers little protection against the bite I see coming, and I jam my weapon sideways between the teeth to keep them from closing.

The angle is poor, and the trigger just out of reach. I have to reach into its mouth with my other hand to detonate the next round. The percussive boom of the explosion separates us violently, and it is my turn to feel the jarring pain of a broken limb. Left with only my sword arm, I know the hunt is moments from ending.

I look to the coeurl as it shakes its head, jaw no longer fully capable of closing. I see with abject clarity a single path to victory, and realize just what it will entail. There is no time for resignation or doubt; with a cry of fury upon my lips I charge.

The coeurl see’s what I intend, and charges at me in turn. Bones and remains are crushed beneath our tread, hunter and prey desperate to reach one another and end this conflict decisively. But the damage to its leg has it off balance, and that is the side I fall towards as I drop to my knees.

I feel claws catch my cheek and split it open, at the same instant my blade pierces the coeurls flank and I trigger the remaining rounds simultaneously in the beasts heart.

* * *

The hunt is not over.

I race through the tunnels, my prize clutched against my chest by a sling that only coincidently holds my broken arm in place. My blade yearns to face my pursuers, but I ignore it and focus only on remembering my path upwards.

Were they waiting the entire time? Was the beast I slew being tested as I was? Or were they only alerted to their packmates plight by my final blow? I asked the Nuhn, but if he knew the truth he did not say.

Of course, that was after; for now I am still running from the pack, desperate to find my way out. And there, around the next bend, I see the blessed light-!

There is no time to mark my rune. No time to wonder how I’ll descend. No time to contemplate the danger nipping at my heels.

I emerge from the cave, reach the edge of the cliff, and leap-!

The dream ends there, even if my story does not. I wonder once again as I wake why the dream does not continue. Why it does not make me relive waking on the floor of the jungle, battered and bruised and miraculously alive after crashing through the jungle canopy. Why I do not experience returning to the village and presenting the jaw of the coeurl to my Nuhn. Why I have to remember myself the moment I was marked, and at last permitted to name myself C’arina.

Yet just as the Nuhn would not tell me the secrets of the coeurls, the mystery of the dream is not forthcoming.

[thewritewolf]

Nino’s Quest Chapter 9: At the Gates

The party finds the lair of the Necromancer and struggle to find a way in. Their righteous quest quickly devolves into a cuddly sleepover.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3. My ko-fi.

The wind was howling as Nino and Alya approached the bakery. Winter was well and truly here, but that wasn’t too surprising. It was the last week of November, after all. Nino looked up at the grey skies and frowned as a few stray snowflakes danced to the ground. They had gotten lucky so far with very little snow, but something in his gut was telling him that wasn’t going to last much longer. Just in case, Nino had brought a change of clothes. Who knows if they were going to get snowed in? Especially given how long this session was going to last.

It wasn’t every day they marched into the halls of the Necromancer, after all.

For now, though, they marched into the bakery.

“So… how’d it work out yesterday? I didn’t see much of them after we let ‘em out,” Nino whispered to Alya as they waved at the Dupain-Cheng parents.

She poked her head into the living room and turned to look at him with a wide grin. “See for yourself, babe.”

The two of them were sitting on the couch playing Ultimate Mecha Strike. Despite the fact that the entire couch was open to them, Marinette was practically sitting in Adrien’s lap. His arms were wrapped around her and his chin rested on her head. For a few solid moments Nino was left stunned at the threshold of the room, staring in awe. At least until Alya jabbed him in the back with her elbow.

His startled yelp caught Adrien’s attention. A bright smile lit up his face. “Awesome timing, guys! We were just about to decide who was the absolute master of Mecha Strike.”

“It was me,” came Marinette’s reply as the victory screen played.

“As if there was any doubt,” Adrien murmured. Closing his eyes, he nuzzled his nose into the crown of her head.

“Hey! That tickles.”

“Too bad.”

“Well,” Alya cut in, “if you two are done being sickeningly cute, we’ve got a Necromancer to stop. In case you forgot?”

“I know, I know. Fighting evil, saving lives - the usual.” Adrien didn’t open his eyes or loosen his hold on Marinette, but Nino could see the knowing smirk on his face.

“Speaking of the usual…” Marinette said as she extracted herself from Adrien. “How does croissants for everyone sound?”

Alya followed after Marinette, leaving Nino to start getting set up. It wasn’t hard to miss the dopey smile that his best bud wore, or how he was almost melted into the couch. Even though that had been the plan all along, Nino was still surprised it actually worked.

“So… you and M, huh?”

“Mhm…” The smile grew wider.

“Dude, you’ve got it bad. I’m just glad you guys finally figured it all out.”

“Yeah…”

“Mind telling me what happened?”

Adrien shrugged. “We just needed to talk things through. That’s all.”

“Sure, dude.” Nino softly punched Adrien on the arm. “Just took a locked door and a bunch of time to make you do that.”

A blush spread across Adrien’s face. “We got there eventually..”

As much as Nino wanted to pry or tease a little more, he was just glad to see his friend so happy. Those two definitely deserved each other.

Just as he finished setting up, the girls returned with a plate of fresh croissants. The perfect food for planning an invasion.

“Alright, my dudes. You’ve discovered the great entrance to the ruined dwarven city. The gates are big and strong. You can hear something moving, can catch glimpses of something marching back there. But whatever it is, it’s not alive.” Nino tugged on his cap. “Well, uh, not in the usual sense, anyway.”

“We can probably take them,” Alya said as she cracked her knuckles. “We’ve trounced worse baddies.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Skeletons gave us a lot of problems back in the mines.” Marinette was tapping a finger to her cheek.

“I know that look, Mari.” Adrien grinned. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, what if we don’t use the main entrance? If it really is a city under there, then there’s no way the Necromancer can have the entire place guarded.”

Alya crossed her arms. “That sounds great and all, M, but do we know of any other entrances?”

“I don’t know.” Marinette locked eyes with Adrien. “Do we?”

Adrien seemed to catch on quickly and scrambled through his notes. “Oh! There’s got to be some legends or stories about this place, right?”

“Hm…” Nino made a quick roll and nodded. “Yeah, you’ve heard a few tales. And between the four of you and all those years of neglect, you could prolly find it. But what are you gonna do once you’re there?”

“That’s where I come in,” Marinette wore a serious expression, her eyes distant as she imagined their mission. “With my super high stealth, I can steer us clear of patrols. And if I find a good place to stash the rest of you, I could even do some scouting on my own.”

Alya narrowed her eyes and cupped her chin. “If we pull this off, then we might just avoid the Necromancer’s entire army…”

“...AND we’ll have the element of surprise.” A vicious grin split Marinette’s face. “He won’t have a clue that we’re coming.”

“Right, okay.” Nino took a deep breath. This… wasn’t exactly what he expected them to do, but being DM meant being able to improvise. Nino rolled a perception check for the four of them, more for show than anything. They’d have to roll pretty high to spot a secret passage. “After a few hours of following your half-remembered story, you don’t find anything. Do you want to keep looking?”

They all nodded resolutely.

“Right.” Nino rolled another round of perception checks. Nothing. “More hours pass. The sun is starting to set. Do you still want to keep looking?

Alya was looking a bit less certain, but Marinette remained confident and that was enough for Adrien. With majority in favor, they kept searching.

“So the moon is out now. It’s full and half of us are some kinda elf, so we could keep searching, but-”

“We keep going.”

“M, what if we can’t find anything? Maybe we should make camp, figure out a new plan.”

“Alya, trust me. I’ve got this.”

“But M-”

“If this plan doesn’t work, then we just aren’t equipped to open the gates and fight the baddies. We’d have to go back anyway. Besides - I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

Alya sighed. “Alright… We stay at it.”

Nodding, Nino rolled a perception check for them. His character failed, as did Alya and Marinette’s. All that was left was Adrien’s character.

Who, naturally, rolled a twenty. His first of the entire campaign. Shocked, it took a minute for Nino to recover. “So, um… With the moonlight coming down, Adrien spots some glowing runes on a rock. He plays the song that he has been following and sure enough, the stone totally vanishes, revealing a stairwell that leads deep underground.”

“Sweet.” Alya says as they all tear into celebratory croissants. “What do we see down there, babe?”

“You’re walking for a while, but eventually the tunnel opens up into a dusty, abandoned quarter of the city. You pass through long abandoned checkpoints and guard posts. When you step into the main cavern, you realize why the city went quiet.” Nino paused to down his pop, leaving the party enraptured. “The ceiling had collapsed, tons of mountain stone crushing the city. Even now, a massive ramp of rock squats in the middle of the city.”

Adrien, his hands folded in front of his face, narrowed his eyes. He spoke in his bard’s voice. “Who knows what lies beneath?”

“Soon enough, the Necromancer.” At their confused looks, Nino added, “Even though you feel death all around you, the air is filled with the sounds of picks hitting stone… And the rattle of bones.”

“Is there somewhere nearby that I can hide these guys?” Marinette jerked a thumb towards the other two.

“Sure. There are plenty of abandoned buildings around here. Most of ‘em prolly won’t collapse ontop of them.”

“Yeah, well, thankfully I have all that training in engineering, remember? I pick the most structurally sound one and try to sneak over to the cave in.”

“Oh, dang. Forgot about that.” Nino cleared his throat. “With the other dudes safely tucked away, you can sneak over to the landslide. Roll for stealth.”

“What am I hiding from?” She asked as she searched for her d20.

“Human zombies in rusty metal armor.”

“Huh. Rusty because of being really old or because zombies don’t take gear of their stuff?”

Nino thought about it for a moment. “The second one.” He glanced at the die roll. “Okay, that’ll be good enough. You get a clear view of the rocks and, well… there are tons of short, stocky skeletons in tattered rags. Probably dwarven, most of them are only armed with picks, but there are a few dozen of ‘em crawling over it. As you watch, one tumbles off and shatters as it falls down the cliff… and right into a huge hole. Whatever they’re digging for, you get the feeling they’re close.”

Marinette tapped at her chin. “Alright, I get a good look around to see if I can guess where the Necromancer might be.”

“There’s a battered but sturdy guard tower that sometimes flashes a sickly green light. Other than that, its shambling undead everywhere.”

“Can I get there easily?”

“Uhh… maybe. There are guards out front, but the tower is kinda out of the way, away from the throng of undead.”

Adrien make a confused face. “Why would he set up there…?”

“Not a lot of intact buildings, I bet.” Marinette nodded. “And he wants some quiet too. Maybe we can use that in our favor?”

The session devolved into making plots and figuring out how best to ambush the dark wizard. They were so engaged in their conversation that they didn’t notice Sabine’s arrival until she put her hands on Marinette’s shoulders.

“Gah!” Marinette started and tilted her head straight up. “Oh, hi maman. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you kids know that Tom and I are going to bed. The snow is coming down pretty hard now, so we’d rather you all stay the night.”

While Marinette tried to gently brush off her mom’s hands as they messed with her hair, Nino got up to look out the window. Sure enough, a layer of snow blanketed Paris with no signs of stopping. The darkening skies also reminded him of how early he’d had to wake up the last couple days.

Fighting down a yawn, he turned back towards his party. “What do you say we call it here and pick it up in the morning? Maybe we can watch a movie or something.”

Marinette tilted her head up to look at her mother. “Can my friends spend the night in my room? Then we can be out of the way when you guys wake up in the morning.”

Sabine seemed to consider this for a few moments before replying, “Of course dear, but remember our talk…”

A fierce blush spread across Marinette’s face. “Maman!”

“I’m just saying!” Laughing, Sabine left the room.

An awkward silence stretched before Adrien naively asked, “What talk?”

-------------

After a few movies, they were exhausted. Nino was looking down from Marinette’s bed at the unfolding drama of who would get the chaise.

“Adrien please - I’m fine sleeping on the floor. I’ve got plenty of pillows and blankets. It isn’t that bad.”

“If it isn’t that bad then I can be on the floor. You already gave up your bed to Alya and Nino. At least take the chaise.”

“I’m the host!” She hissed in irritation. “I have to make sure all my guests are comfortable!”

“And I will only be comfortable once I know you’re sleeping on something nice and soft!”

In a huff, Marinette threw her pillows and blankets on the floor of her room. For a hot second Nino was worried that she was about to jump him, but no, she was just angrily building a nest on the floor. Adrien gaped at her for a moment before dropping his stuff on the ground and doing the same.

“I mean it, hot stuff,” Marinette growled through a faint blush. “I’m sleeping on the floor no matter what you do. You may as well just take the chaise.”

Adrien took a deep breath as if winding up for a long spiel. “No.”

Both of them stubbornly get into their blanket nests and glared at each other, but from his spot from above, Nino could see them slowly inching together. He shook his head and ducked under the covers, where Alya had already tucked herself in. Her eyes were closed as she nuzzled against the pillows.

As he was taking off his glasses, she mumbled, “The babies still being ridiculous?”

“You know it.”

“Good. Can’t have everything change all at once.”

“Right as usual, babe.” Nino leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Night.”

A serene smile graced her face as she whispered back, “Night.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Nino Lahiffe #Alya Cesaire #DJ Wifi #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Dungeons and Dragons #DnD #D&D #ml fanfiction #my writing #Nino's Quest

[kimabutch]

JLCR: kimabutch edition

To celebrate somehow reaching 1000 songs on Jam Like Critical Role, the giant fan-created playlist that I’ve been curating since February, I’ve decided to put together a mini-playlist of own, featuring two of my favourite songs for each member of Vox Machina and The Mighty Nein! Each song has a YouTube link, but you can find the whole mini-playlist on Spotify here.

By mini-playlist I meant that there are “only” 36 songs, and also that I’ve pulled out my favourite lines and explained why I associate the song with them, so that this whole thing is approximately 5400 words long. I tried to restrain myself, but, well, Jam Like Critical Role is a testament to my lack of self-restraint. If it helps, I’ve tried to incorporate a diversity of artists, eras, and genres, from folk-punk to techno, country, dream-pop, classical, and beyond. I hope you find something you enjoy.

Grog

We’re Going To Be Friends, Jack Johnson (cover of White Stripes), for Grog and Pike’s incredibly wholesome childhood friendship. While many of the lyrics describe friends at school, which is not totally accurate for them, I can just imagine the two weirdos playing among the bugs:

“Walk with me, Suzy Lee/ Through the park and by the tree/ We can rest upon the ground/ And look at all the bugs we’ve found”

Not to mention Pike teaching Grog his ABCs:

“Tonight I’ll dream while in my bed/ While silly thoughts run through my head/ Of the bugs and alphabet”

I just love these two silly monstahs.

Giant, Juno Reactor: to balance out that last song, have some techno that makes me want to yell “Vox Machina, Fuck. Shit. UP!” and split Kevdak in half with a nat 20 from the sky. Appropriately named for our goliath friend, this song always temporarily convinces me that I, too, am a seven foot tall barbarian (which is not recommended while you are trying to do anything that requires brainpower.)

Keyleth

I Lost Myself, Lauren Mann and The Fairly Odd Folk, for Keyleth’s self-doubt about whether she can do her Aramente (or whether she even wants to) and fear that she’s hurting everyone:

“I’ve got voices in my head Making me think that this is where I end Hey, what do you see, if anything What do you see in me”

This specifically reminds me of her Aramente, and how it taught her so much more than she was expecting:

“You and me we made a plan To travel from here to there and back again Somewhere on that weathered road I found the dreams that I’d been looking for”

And “Hey, we’ve got the world to see/ So let’s forget our anxieties and get on our way” makes me think of Keyleth and Percy’s friendship, and how both of their stories are about trying to figure out what to do once you’ve achieved your goals. I want to think that after the story ended, they were still occasionally able to leave behind their responsibilities and travel the world together.

Take Us Back, Alela Diane, for a post-canon Keyleth, reminiscing on the old days and eventually outliving the rest of Vox Machina. I get a strong image of Kiki coming down from Zephra to see her friends:

“Atop the crags and cliffs the air is thin/ So we’ll find a mountain path on down the hill/ Meet me where the snowmelt flows/ It is there, my dear, where we’ll begin again”

And of her listening to Scanlan’s music, centuries later; they’d be the last two alive: “I’ve a friend who lives out by the river’s mouth/ He knows the fiddle’s cry is an old sound”

And then Keyleth, alone, listening to a river’s gurgle or the wind’s howling, and almost thinking she hears her friends: “Muted voices, just beyond/ The silent surface of what has gone.”

Percival

The Devil Spoke Here, Chicken Little, which I think is actually about the aftermath of a protest, but which I feel works eerily well for Percy’s development following the Briarwood arc. The beginning reminds me of his guilt, feelings of brokenness, and anger issues after he’s cast out Orthax — right down to his guilt about guns:

“There’s bullets in the streets/ and broken dishes on the floor/   enough anger in my heart/   to take the blame for it all/   I could take every bullet back/   if I could never feel like that”

It also covers Percy’s realization, after his conversation with the Raven Queen, that he’s free from the judgment of the gods, and acceptance that he’s the one who has bad thoughts for the greater good:

“I have no god for guidance/ still I’m praying all the same/ may everything I do/ be done for everybody’s gain”

And then this, for a reason that I can’t quite explain, feels so much like Percy’s forgiveness of Ripley at Glintshore, and his death at her hand:

“May we always fail/ with the best of intentions/   with our hearts always pure/   and our souls only human”

Wandering Star, Portishead: the weird trip hop vibe to this song somehow feels appropriate to Percy, and in particular to his darkest thoughts. The song addresses the possible punishments for these thoughts: “Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved/ The blackness, the darkness, forever.” It helps that this is an allusion to a Bible passage about atheists.

The second verse makes me think both of Percy’s relationship to the concept of eternity (because of the “needle’s eye” — a parable about the entrance of heaven for the rich) and his raven mask:

“Those who have seen the needle’s eye, now tread Like a husk, from which all that was, now has fled And the masks that the monsters wear To feed, upon their prey”

Additionally, “Doubled up inside/ Take a while to shed my grief” is reminiscent of Percy’s revelation, in the last episode, that he just really fucking misses his family. This whole time, something inside of him has been curled up into a little ball like the teenager he was five years ago, grieving his family.

Pike

Holy, Jamily Woods: a song about self-love and self-assurance, underscored by Christian imagery:

“Though I walk through the darkest valley I will fear no love/ Oh my smile my mind reassure me I don’t need no one […] Woke up this morning with my mind set on loving me”

Many of the lyrics can be interpreted either as the singer being self-sufficient because her god is there — or being sufficient even beyond her god: “I’m not lonely, I’m alone/ And I’m holy by my own.”

I think both interpretations work for Pike: that she has found (or is attempting to find) peace when she’s not with her friends, or that although she worships Sarenrae, the Everlight doesn’t necessarily interfere in her day-to-day life and she makes her own happiness. Either way, the song makes me feel at peace in the same way that Pike does.

The Otherside, Ohbijou, for Pike’s feelings about Scanlan during the year gap. Particularly, I’m reminded of Pike’s attempts to talk to Scanlan on the earring: “With things left unsaid so unsatisfied/ And a burning to hear your voice just one more time.”

And in these lyrics:

“And it’s so silly for me to worry/ About situations that don’t exist/ We create these problems and try to solve them/ Why waste each passing moment?”

I hear Pike trying to figure out her feelings for Scanlan, but shooting herself down because he’s gone, why even try?

Scanlan

The Pilgrim - Chapter 33, Willie Nelson (cover of Kris Kristofferson), which really encapsulates, for me, Scanlan’s complex relationship with religion: the fact that a guy who regularly produces lightning from his dick, messes with people’s memories, and actively attempts to cultivate a drug habit finds himself praying to the Everlight at night and eventually becomes Ioun’s chosen:

“He’s a poet, he’s a picker/ He’s a prophet, he’s a pusher/ He���s a pilgrim and a preacher/ And a problem when he’s stoned”

The lines “He’s a walking contradiction/ Partly truth and partly fiction” reminds me of all the identities he’s taken on, both for fun and to shield his emotions from his friends, whereas “Taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home” makes me think of Scanlan’s long road back to Vox Machina after leaving them.

Handle With Care, Traveling Wilburys: almost every single song on this album works for Scanlan, so choosing just one was a real challenge. But this song is so good for all the shit that Scanlan’s been through (and all the shit that he’s been), and his relationship with Pike through all of that:

“Been beat up and battered around/ Been sent up, and I’ve been shot down/ You’re the best thing that I’ve ever found/ Handle me with care […]”

“Everybody’s got somebody to lean on” reminds me of Scanlan’s feeling, in episode 85, that he’s the odd one out in Vox Machina.

The last verse encapsulates Scanlan acknowledging his own fuck ups, working to make them right, and eventually, having a healthy relationship with Pike:

“I’ve been uptight and made a mess/ But I’ll clean it up myself, I guess/ Oh, the sweet smell of success”

Taryon

Father and Son, Cat Stevens, for Tary’s relationship with his father and his decision to leave home; the song is a duet of sorts. I think the father’s part of the song is a little generous for Howaardt Darrington, but retains the message of (somewhat condescendingly) trying to keep his son at home and have him reconsider his far-reaching plans: “I know that it’s not easy to be calm/ When you’ve found something going on.”

The son’s part, though, captures Tary’s frustration with his father’s strictness and inability to actually understand his passions:

“How can I try to explain?/ ‘Cause when I do he turns away again/ It’s always been the same, same old story/ From the moment I could talk/ I was ordered to listen/ Now there’s a way and I know/ That I have to go away”

And the last verse is some real closeted gay feelings that always make me tear up:

“All the times that I cried/ Keeping all the things I knew inside/ It’s hard, but it’s harder to ignore it”

What’s It Gonna Be, Shura, not so much for the song’s lyrics, but for its music video, which is all about falling for a different gender than you expected, and which is incredibly sweet and beautiful.

That being said, you could definitely take the lyrics to be about his crush on Percy and his obliviousness about who in Vox Machina is sleeping with whom:

“Do I tell you I love you or not?/ 'Cause I can’t really guess what you want/ If you let me down, let me down slow”

Vax’ildan

Glorious, Muse, for Vax’s early relationship with faith. He can’t help but feel drawn towards Sarenrae’s light, even as he has doubts and perhaps even anger towards the gods:

Faith: It drives me away/ But it turns me on/ Like a stranger’s love It rockets through the universe It fuels the lies and feeds the curse And we, too, could be glorious”

He wants that glory that he sees in Pike, but he doesn’t know how to approach it or reconcile it with his life experiences. And then he finds his whole world shattered as he’s chosen by the Raven Queen, and he once again has to find faith, though in a way that he never expected:

“I need to believe But I still want more With the cuts and the bruises”

Fields of Gold, Sting: a song from Vax to Keyleth. I can imagine them so perfectly in this scene, perhaps during their year of downtime, with the winds of Zephra blowing through the fields and their hope beyond hope that they’ll be able to stay together:

“Will you stay with me? Will you be my love?/ Upon the fields of barley/ We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky/ As we lie in fields of gold”

“See the west wind move like a lover so/ Upon the fields of barley/ Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth/ Among the fields of gold”

Years later, Vax knows that Keyleth will see those fields again and think of him: “You’ll remember me when the west wind moves/ Upon the fields of barley.”

Vex’ahlia

Half Jack, The Dresden Dolls: a truly haunting song about the pain and unavoidability of being her father’s daughter — she’s always half Jill (her mother) and half Jack (her father.) The whole song is incredibly painful for Vex, and the lines:

“It might destroy me But I’d sacrifice my body If it meant I’d get the Jack part out”

always makes me think of “If I could pull the blood of you from my veins and give it back, I would.” Also,

“But if you listen/ You’ll learn to hear the difference/ Between the halfs and the half nots”

reminds me of her asking Percy if she looks like she comes from money — or a younger Vex, in Syngorn, gradually realizing why everyone looked down on her and Vax. Lastly, isn’t “I see my mother in my face/ But only when I travel” absolutely heartbreaking for her?

Fall Down or Fly, Lindi Ortega, only partly because Lindi Ortega strongly resembles my headcanon for Vex. The other part is because of my abiding love for how Vex learned to fly, and how that worked with her character arc: from the first time, in the Briarwoods arc, that she discovered her love for flying, to her flaunting convention and stealing the broom, to Percy modifying it for her, to her friends cheering her on with chicken target practice, and finally to her soaring through the skies with confidence. And the song captures that so well for me, as well as her decision to keep going even when her father, Saundor’s words, and her own self-doubt bring her down:

“This is your life/ You can fall down or fly/ You can burn out a shot if you want/ This is your life/ You can live it or die/ You can quit now or try if you want/ But don’t you give up, don’t you give up”

This also reminds me of how much all of Vox Machina adores and supports Vex (and I will join them in crying about how awesome she is):

“You said what is there to lose?/ Do it if you choose/ I got faith in you/ Everything you do/ I know you are gonna make it to the top”

(I also maintain that a modern Vex would be really into country music, particularly the genre of country song in which women tell people to fuck off.)

Vox Machina

Call Them Brothers, Regina Spektor feat. Only Son, for Scanlan’s departure from Vox Machina and the whole team’s attempts to deal with it. I first heard this song in an absolutely heartbreaking TAZ animatic, and my pain increased exponentially when I realized how much it also worked for Critical Role. It’s perfect, in my opinion, for the sense that their family, which has seen them through so much, is irreparably broken — “That’s it, it’s split, it won’t recover/ Just frame the halves and call them brothers.”

But then you also get “Over and over, they call us their friends/ Can’t we find something else to pretend?” for Scanlan’s insistence that Vox Machina doesn’t really care about him, and “Find your fathers and your mothers/ If you remember who they are” for “what’s my mother’s name?”

Maybe this should go on Scanlan’s playlist, but I think “The hunt is on, everyone’s chasing a shot” also works for the way that the rest of Vox Machina independently searched for Scanlan during their year of downtime… and the feelings of defeat in the song just feel appropriate to the whole group.

(I actually have a playlist full of songs for episode 85, because I enjoy making myself sad; it took a lot of effort not to put them all here.)

Freaks, The Hawk in Paris: I can never decide whether this is a Mighty Nein or Vox Machina song, but I’m putting it here mostly because “If you come along with us, the doors are never ending” is absolutely hilarious in for Vox Machina’s single greatest enemy.

That, and there are a lot of lines that work for individual members of the group: “We have a flair for the shade and the inbetween” (Vax); “We like to run with the wolves from the darker scene” (Keyleth); “When we turn the safety off, the shots are automatic” (Percy); “All our friends tell their friends we’re so dramatic” (Scanlan); and “We’ll make you swoon, make it hurt just a little” (Vex).

Additionally, “We have a plan, we’ve got the means for your liberation/ You’ll only have to blur the lines on a few occasions” makes me think of the Briarwood arc, and I makes me think of Percy dramatically revealing his identity to the priest — and cut to Grog pulling out a guy’s tongue.

Anyways, if I learn to make AMVs by the time that the animated series is released, this will be the first that I’ll make.

Beauregard

Saint Simon, The Shins, for Beau’s escape from the Cobalt Soul. The song expresses frustration at weighty intellectualism and how much it doesn’t teach you — which i think is something Beau felt strongly with her monk teachers:

“After all these implements and texts designed by intellects/ So vexed to find, evidently there’s still so much that hides […] Since I don’t have time nor mind to figure out the nursery rhymes/ That helped us out in making sense of our lives”

So she tries not to care about anything because it’s safer that way (“The cruel, uneventful state of apathy releases me”), and she runs away:

“I’ll try hard not to give in, batten down to fare the wind/ Rid my head of this pretence, allow myself no mock defence/ Step into the night”

I think the last part of the song could also work for her meeting the Mighty Nein and starts understanding friendship and love: “Mercy’s eyes are blue when she places them in front of you/ Nothing really holds a candle to the solemn warmth you feel inside you.”

Jonas and Ezekiel, Indigo Girls, because what kind of lesbian would I be if I didn’t put at least one gay-written song on Beau’s playlist? This one is about road trips, wandering, and looking for a purpose:

“I left my anger in a river running Highway 5 New Hampshire, Vermont, bordered by College farms, hubcaps, and falling rocks Voices in the woods and the mountaintops”

But also contains one verse that I think fits her strict family, her new family in the Mighty Nein, and the “devils” — or tieflings — of which her family would certainly not approve:

“Now when I was young my people taught me well/ Give back what you take or you’ll go to hell/ It’s not the devil’s land, you know it’s not that kind/ Every devil I meet becomes a friend of mine/ Every devil I meet is an angel in disguise”

And something about this reminds me of her journey into Xhorhas and attempts to uncover conspiracies and work out the truth: “In the war over land where the world began/ Prophecies say it’s where the world will end.”

Caduceus

Born at the Right Time, Paul Simon, for Caduceus’s belief in destiny and his place therein. The chorus describes his occasional naïveté, and the happiness of his life in the Blooming Grove, with his family:

“Never been lonely Never been lied to Never had to scuffle in fear Nothing denied to”

And then gets into his conviction that his goddess and the world itself put him where he is:

“Born at the instant/ The church bells chime/ And the whole world whispering/ Born at the right time”

The very chill vibe of the song is also very Clay, to me.

Happy All the Time, Danny Schmidt: the singer himself has said that he doesn’t know whether or not this song is ironic and/or melancholic, so I’m going to go with a sincere and cheerful interpretation for Caduceus, with maybe a hint of nostalgia for more peaceful days among his family. It’s got some incredibly lush and occasionally strange nature imagery that I think is perfect for him:

“I took the time to breathe cause I was happy all the time/ Among the rootbuds and the weeds cause I was happy all the time/ But the peat moss and the leaves took turns with both my feet/ Until my toes took root and I was happy, I was happy all the time”

I think Caduceus is still happy, but he was definitely at peace as a hermit.

Caleb

I Miss That Feeling, Tennis: a song about panic attacks and how the physical effects, when described, almost seem like falling in love. It works not only for Caleb’s panic attacks, but also, relatedly, his relationship with fire, which scares him, even as he likes the way it feels — “Something like pleasure, you’d never believe it.”

The fiery way that the singer describes panic attacks is also very Caleb:

“I miss that feeling/ Flicker hot and hovering/ Like my own discovering/ Eagerly, tenderly/ I miss that feeling/ Flicker spread into an itch/ Into a burn, into a twitch/ Slow and even”

It brings me back to the first time we saw it, in the gnoll mines. Also, “Every little thing starts trembling/ Recorded by the needle of an EKG” feels very reminiscent of his hospitalization, though from a modern perspective.

Putting the Dog to Sleep, The Antlers, for Caleb’s very tentative trust in the Mighty Nein, and in particular his friendship with Beau. I think this song really encapsulates Caleb’s pain and skittishness, especially near the beginning of their campaign, as well as his desperation (unknown even to himself) to love again:

“Well, prove to me I’m not gonna die alone/ Unstitch that shit I’ve sewn/ To close up the hole that tore through my skin/ Well my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg/ Tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in”

And this feels like something that Beau would say to Caleb — upfront and caring all at the same time, reminding him that his actions affect everyone else and asking him not to run:

“You said, ‘I can’t prove to you you’re not gonna die alone/ But trust me to take you home/ To clean up that blood all over your paws/ You can’t keep running out […] Kicking yourself in the head/ Because you’re kicking me too.’”

By the end of the song, Caleb is starting to believe her, and even asking her to trust him: “Put your trust in me/ I’m not gonna die alone… I don’t think so…”

Fjord

Release the Kraken, The Daysleepers: I added this to Fjord’s playlist back when everyone was speculating that his patron was something kraken-like, and even now that this is clearly not the case, I think it still works for Uk’otoa (Uk’otoa) and his attempts at freedom: “It pulled the ships down/ It’s rising from the deep below.”

But also for Fjord’s relationship with Avantika — for his attempts to get close to her in order to save himself and his friends:  

“Turn the lights down Careful as a serpent’s tongue Move without a sound Gentle as the cold wind moans”

I think “When you sold love/ Your heart becomes a monster” is some of what Fjord felt after those encounters: like he gave part of himself away.

21st Century Child, Daggy Man, for Fjord’s self-hatred and the masks he puts on. Many of the lyrics could fit several characters (particularly Beau, Caleb, and Scanlan), but

“I hate the sound of myself/ When I’m being honest/ Sounds like somebody else/ And I don’t wanna listen/ To the whinings of a 21st century child”

just perfectly captures his feelings about his voice and his past self — weak and whiny, and not who he wants to be. And then we get these lines, which feel like a good summary of his issues with identity and deception:

“And I’ve struggled with how/ Others perceive me/ And I can’t tell if I’m better/ Or just better at deceiving And I’ll keep going until I’m called out”

Jester

The Sweetest Sounds, Ella Fitzgerald (cover of Richard Rodgers), for pre-stream Jester barely waiting for her exciting life to begin. I first heard this song in Rodger & Hammerstein’s Cinderella, and while there is something fairy-tale-like about Jester, I think this upbeat, jazzy cover fits her well:

“The most entrancing sight of all Is yet for me to see And the dearest love in all the world Is waiting somewhere for me”

I can just imagine a 10-year-old Jester listening to the band at the Lavish Chateau play this song, dressing up in Marion’s clothes, and pretending she’s in a storybook romance.

One Hand in my Pocket, Alanis Morissette, which really captures her beautiful complexity:

“I’m free, but I’m focused/ I’m green, but I’m wise/ I’m hard, but I’m friendly/ I’m sad, but I’m laughing”

because Jester is so many things all at once, and none of them negate each other. It’s so hopeful (“What it all comes down to/ Is that everything’s gonna be quite alright”) and comforting (“What it all boils down to/ Is that no one’s really got it figured out just yet”) in a way that really reminds me of my favourite blue cleric.

The whole song has such a fun, free, summer vibe that always makes me smile — just like Jester.

Mollymauk

Carnival Overture, Antonín Dvořák (Leonard Bernstein & New York Philharmonic Orchestra): one of my favourite pieces of classical music ever — when I hear it, an entire music video about a carnival plays in my head. The exuberant theme that bowls you over from the start reminds me of Molly’s effervescent, ostentatious personality.

The slower and quieter part in the middle with the violin and woodwind solos gives me a picture of Molly and Yasha sitting alone in the evenings just outside the carnival encampment, cuddled together — Yasha talking about her wife, Molly telling jokes, and the both of them making up names for constellations and flowers. Then the quick-paced minor section makes me think of the bloodhunter tiefling in combat, deadly with his swords and vicious mockery — before the return to the joyful, triumphant original theme.

Wonderful Everyday, Chance the Rapper & The Social Experiment**: this is sort of a cover of the Arthur theme song, but in the absolute best way possible. The meandering, loose, and extraordinarily happy vocals always remind me of Molly’s way of living.

Although some of the lyrics are more optimistic than Molly (I think he’d laugh at “Everybody that you meet/ Has an original point of view” and say that their points of view are usually bullshit), the message of appreciating every single day is just wonderful for him.

And the last bit hits me like a ton of bricks:

“And when I go down/ I'ma go down swinging/ My eyes still smiling/ And my heart still singing”

“Eyes never shut,” indeed.

**not on Spotify, sorry!

Nott

The Sore Feet Song, Ally Kerr: at first it appears to be a simple song about traveling long distances to find your love, which certainly describes Nott’s search for Yeza: “I walked ten thousand miles, ten thousand miles to see you/ And every gasp of breath I grabbed at just to find you.”

But the second verse is where it really gets into Nott’s thieving, rat-eating, badass ways:

“I stole ten thousand pounds, ten thousand pounds to see you I robbed convenient stores cause I thought they’d make it easier I lived off rats and toads, and I starved for you I fought off giants bears and I killed them too”

I love this strange little goblin.

Fox in the Snow, Belle & Sebastian: this song has always been a bit of a mystery to me, but the lyrics remind me of Nott’s intense vulnerability after she was transformed into a goblin — and in particular her self-image as something animalistic:

“Fox in the snow, where do you go/ To find something you could eat?/ Because the word out on the street is you are starving/ Don’t let yourself grow hungry now/ Don’t let yourself grow cold”

The second verse, which switches to describing a human girl, reminds me of pre-transformation Veth, more acceptable in body but no less socially ostracized than Nott:

“Girl in the snow, where do you go/ To find someone that will do?/ To tell someone all the truth before it kills you/ Listen to your crazy laugh/ Before you hang a right/ And disappear from sight/ What do they know anyway?”

I can just see that exact scene play out with a young Veth, right down to the “crazy laugh.” I’m glad she found Yeza, but she must still have been pretty lonely without any other friends.

Yasha

Into the Barrens, Grizfolk, for Yasha’s years of blank wandering after Zuala’s death. This song fits Yasha so well that for months, I somehow tricked myself into believing that Ashley had put it on her playlist. But I feel like this encapsulates her hopeless feelings, away from all society, not living for anything or anyone:

“Cast me away, my shadow’s cold/ Into the barrens where I will grow old/ Well, I’m not looking for answers/ And I’m not looking for gold”

And I can see this verse for the beginning of her relationship with the Stormlord, following voices she can’t understand as she wanders, barely alive:

“The voices in my head/ They echo in the wind and I begin to sway/ I follow what they say/ I can’t see their eyes, but I hear howling through the haze”

Dreams, Fleetwood Mac: technically a break-up song, but I can’t help but think of Yasha’s ever-present guilt and her memories of Zuala when I hear:

“Listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness/ Like a heartbeat drives you mad/ In the stillness of remembering what you had/ And what you lost”

The storm imagery also works for Yasha — “When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know” makes me think of her fight with the Stormlord on the boat, which allowed her to open up to her friends. And it touches on Yasha’s opaque dreams (“Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions/ I keep my visions to myself”).

(Ally and Stevie also have a lesbian mash-up of Dreams and Rhiannon, two of the gayest Fleetwood Mac songs, that I associate strongly with Beauyasha.)

Mighty Nein

Old Black Train, The Blasting Company (from Over the Garden Wall): trains don’t exist in Exandria (yet! — Percy or Taryon should get on that) but this is more of a metaphor for life. It reminds me of the Mighty Nein setting out from Alfield, not knowing the twists and turns they were going to face, the places they’d go, nor the family they’d become:

“This journey is a long one/ It will take you all around/ Life rushing by your window/ Before it lays you down”

Then there’s this verse:

“Oh come on now young stranger/ Weren’t you someone’s son? How’d you find this depot 'Cause it ain’t where you belong”

which feels very appropriate for many members of the Mighty Nein, separated as they are from their families and wandering in lands that aren’t welcoming to them. There’s also a verse that’s reminiscent of the graveyard they passed on the way to Zadash, which more and more feels like a portent of things to come:

“You will pass a graveyard/ Stones worn by the years/ The train’ll stop a minute but don’t let it leave you here”

Sailing, Leisure Cruise: another song about transportation, although this one is a little less metaphorical. As you can probably guess, I associate it with their adventures on the Mystake and the Ball Eater, which begun by total accident but which, in my opinion, was a turning point for the group, and ultimately helped them grow closer together:

“And to our surprise we’re sailing The high seas in the middle of the ocean […] We’re sailing the wildest mystery And to our surprise we’re happy and free”

Okay, so maybe “happy and free” is a bit of an exaggeration for that arc (particularly for poor Nott) but I think there were a lot of moments in which the Mighty Nein learned unexpected lessons about themselves.

And I think this is a good summary of the Mighty Nein’s modus operandi: seize every passing opportunity, because you don’t know what tomorrow will bring:

“Maybe it’s today Maybe it’s tomorrow But we have to make a play Or the chance will fade away”

And that’s a wrap! Thanks for listening and reading. Love you all <3

#critical role #Cr music #my stuff

[lailannajacobs]

Snowy Sunday

Pairing: Loki X Reader 

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: 100% fluff! 

Request: Hello, I've read a couple of your oneshots, and I really enjoy your style of writing. Could I request a snow day with Loki?

A/N: Here’s a little short one, for all you guys dealing with the snow and winter like I am! Thank you anon for the request! <3

“Do you find it hard to stop yourself from turning blue when it’s this cold out?” You asked, trying your hardest not to laugh at your own joke.

Loki, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find it hard at all. His straight face only made you want to laugh even harder.

“Oh come on, it’s funny because it’s a common expression yet you can literally turn blue, you know being Frost Giant and all.”

He nodded.“I’m well aware.”

“Of course your are, grumpy pants.”

He lifted your hand, ignoring the comment, “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s going to turn blue?”

“I might,” you tucked your hand into his, searching for warmth, “I think my fingers might fall off.”

“How about we go inside then.” he pulled you in closer, leading you down the snowy path.

It was one of those freezing February days, the weather refusing to let go of its grasp. It had snowed the night before, dumping a thick layer over what little had managed to melt the day before.You were beginning to wonder if winter would ever let up.

You lifted your face toward the sun, searching for the nonexistent warmth - or at least a little vitamin D. The coldest days were always the sunniest ones.

You used Loki to shield yourself from the biting wind, “Remind me again why we’re outside on a Sunday morning? I feel like we should still be in bed.”

“That was the plan,” he reminded you, “but you wanted pancakes for breakfast even if you didn’t have any milk in your refrigerator. We could have been much warmer had we stayed inside doing..other things.”

You smacked his chest playfully, though you definitely would have preferred doing any of those other things, to the cold you were walking through right now. In your defence, pancakes were made for Sundays. And, oddly enough, ever since you had shown him how to make them, he had gotten strangely talented at making the fluffiest pancakes you had ever eaten. You couldn’t let a Sunday go by without them. And also, if you were being honest, you just kinda liked watching him in the kitchen.

You made it into the warmth of your apartment, snow dripping onto the carpet from  your boots. Loki’s cheeks, unlike yours, weren’t rosy with colour. The cold never did seem to affect him, which was something you teased him about endlessly, but not today. The way he looked at you, a half smirk on his lips, made you forget what you were going to say. Something told you that was the point.

“What do you want for breakfast?” He asked, as you took off your coats and entered the kitchen.

You never got tired of this little game, even if you played it every Sunday.

“I don’t know, toast?”

He opened the fridge and took out an egg and a stick of butter.“We did go out of our way to get milk, don’t you think we should use it?”

“Good point.” Wandering towards the back cupboard in the kitchen, you looked for the flour.

“Cereal?” He suggested.

You glanced over your shoulder, at the grin you knew you would find, and grinned back. “Cereal it is.”

You handed him the flour and hopped up onto the counter. From there, you could see out the kitchen window, the world bright white. The day after a night snowfall meant that the world was on pause. Everyone, except for the few brave business owners and people with life saving jobs, would be spending the day inside. When you had gotten up in the morning, Loki had offered to use his particular skill set to get the milk for you, but you couldn’t resist going out. There was something about the silence of a city that had been blanketed in snow, almost as if it had blotted out all the sound as well. Walking down the street to the nearest convenience store with Loki this morning felt like you were the only two people left in the world.

“Blueberry or chocolate chip?”

You pulled your attention away from the window and back to Loki. “Do you even need to ask?”

He smirked, “Chocolate chip it is.”

Everything he did was so meticulous, as if the perfection of your breakfast depended on every measurement being just right. Maybe it did, and that was why his pancakes were so much better than yours.

He lifted the glass measuring cup to eye level, double checking the quantity of milk, “Enjoying the show?”

“Always.” You held up your phone up to him as if to take a picture.“Do think anyone would believe me if I told them that the god of mischief makes me pancakes every Sunday?”

He raised an eyebrow, unamused. Pictures weren’t his thing.

“I think if they did, they would tell you not to eat them.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because there are so many things I could do to the batter.” he winked, conveying endless possibilities of the mischievous things he could do to it.

“I wouldn’t listen to them,” you shrugged, “I trust you.”

He tilted his head, as if surprised by the words but quickly looked back down at the bowl. He stirred, slowly and carefully until he deemed it perfect, trying to hide the colour in his cheeks from you.

“What do you want to do today?” He asked.

“Anything as long as we’re inside. I’ve been outside enough for a snow day.”

“Weakling.”

Before he knew what had happened, you dipped your fingers into the batter and smeared it across his cheek. His eyes widened and he stared at you as if he couldn’t believe that you had just done that.

His surprised didn’t last long. He lunged so you jumped off the counter, barely managing to evade his grasp. You didn’t make it far before he had his arms wrapped around you, and rubbed his cheek across your face like a cat, smearing the batter all over your face as well.

You laughed and tried to push him off you, smacking him playfully.

“Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

You couldn’t keep your laughter in, “you look ridiculous.”

“So do you.” The corner of his lips twitched upward.  

You looked into those green eyes, unable to keep the stupid grin off your lips. His eyes searched yours and for the millionth time in your life, you wished you could read his mind. If he read yours, he’d see that you couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to start your day.

He pressed his lips to yours but your stomach let out a loud, interrupting growl. You laughed, your lips still against his and you felt him smile back.

“I should get back to the pancakes but we’ll continue this,” he pulled back so that he could face you as he walked back into the kitchen, “after breakfast.”

You flopped onto the couch, unable to wipe the smile off your face. “Sounds like a plan.”

You loved snow days.

#Loki Laufeyson #loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

[haldir-cupcake]

Hey! Could I have a one shot about Haldir falling in love with a human from our world that gets to middle earth somehow? With some angst but fluff and happy ending pretty please? Thanks so much!! I look forward to reading it x

Fallen Leaves Pt. 1 - (Pt. 2) (On AO3)

-You’d fallen hard, that much you could conclude, at least judgingby the bump growing on the back of your head and the dull painful ache thaterupted when you shifted and tried to move from your spot… on the ground? Whywere you outside?The last you remembered, you’d been driving through the city late at night andhad been on your way home and you’d driven under an overpass that had been coatedwith fresh lines of spray paint twisting into patterns you’d not recognized.Then you were here on the ground with the lump of a root digging in your sideand burning into a spot where surely there was a bruise.When you’d finally felt brave enough to open your eyes you discovered that youwere in some sort of forest of all things, and panic had soon set in as yourose from your spot on wobbling knees, almost having them buckle under you whenthe reality that there wasn’t anything familiar about the place struck.You groaned, stumbling around in circles trying to make sense of it all,certain that you surely must have hit your head quite hard. Your ears strainedand you tried to pick up the sound of traffic, because surely you’d find it,but that did not happen.There was only the peaceful serenity of nature and when you tilted your head upto glance at the trees around you, you realized that it must have been a forestfar older than what you’d seen where you lived before.Where on Earth were you?You began taking small steps back, all the pieces of your scattered memoriesstruggling to construct into something tangible in your mind while working notto break out into a frantic panic that lead you to do something stupid, but it wastoo late and your back hit something hard behind you, something that wasdecidedly not a tree, but rather a… person.You yelped, spinning about to meet them face to face, only to fall back on yourrump, hard, most assuredly giving you another bruise on your backside if there hadn’tbeen one there already. You looked up, your wide eyes meeting the cool stare of… of an elf?

The pointed ears certainly hinted to that, the clothing did, too,but that couldn’t be right. Your long stare became an assessing squint and yourealized the clothes they wore were far too nice to be anything from a costumeshop.He seemed to be just as suspicious of you, however, and returning your stareand most assuredly taking stock of all your features and clothing choice whichmust have been just as perplexing as his were to you.He spoke, his voicecoming out steely and direct with a hint of a mocking drawl that had yourinsides quivering, yet you didn’t understand a word he was saying and that musthave showed on your face because he sighed, his mouth forming a thin, irateline as he looked down his nose at you before trying again.

“You are trespassing,” he said and you blinked, surprised that you couldunderstand him. Then a chill came up your spine and you realized you were notalone, the figures of others like him appearing in your periphery, all of themwith… with bows and arrows raised and at you.

Your mouth felt dry and the ache in your head had begun a steady drum of painagainst your skull and radiated all the way to your temples. You gulped, strugglingto come up with a response.

“It was unplanned,” you said with a slight waver in your voice, “I-I really don’tknow where I am.”

“You’ve come too far into our forest for us to let you go. You’ll be comingwith us.”

Before you could think to even utter a word of protest, you felt yourself beinghauled up by your arms behind you a little roughly and something being thrownover your head.

Oh.

-The coming days passed, but they did so without your willingness. At times youwere spoken to, other times you were roughly moved along without a word, and,occasionally, given a brief reprieve of the sack that had obscured your visionso that you might see some of the world outside of it, but only for briefintervals. You drank water, but refused to eat after some time which at firsthad not been a bother to them, until your gait became clumsy and you struggledto walk, stumbling over uneven terrain and almost falling flat on your facehadn’t strong arms caught you and steadied you.

“You are being foolish,” the elf told you after having watched you turn yourhead away at a parcel of leaves that had contained something for you to eat.

You said nothing in response, instead taking on a stubborn demeanor and lockingyour jaw tight and trying, and of course failing, to avoid beingreminded of the near constant pounding of your head and the bursts of starsthat erupted in your vision every time you looked around too quickly.

“And you will also gain nothing but illness if you continue as you do.”

The energy it took to hear his words and understand them took so much out ofyou that could not even manage a scowl or glare in response. Instead, youslumped back against the bulk of a tree, blearily realizing that you were nolonger on the ground anymore, but high up on some sort of platform. The nextmoment you were glancing back at his look of disapproval and in another youwere met with the fading image of his face shifting into something that looked suspiciouslylike worry before you were claimed by a numbing darkness that you were thankfulfor, because it made you forget the pain, the hunger, and most of all; theunease at not knowing what was going to happen to you.

-

When you came to again, eyes blinking to take in your surroundings, you foundthat you were no longer just in the forest, or on some platform like before butsurrounded by many, and this time they were more ornate and expansive.The sight was enough to suck the wind out of you and you found yourself gawkingat the wonder and beauty of it all, not even realizing that you were being heldby someone. Namely an elf.The only one whom you’d actually spoken to the entiretime.

Your body stiffened and you thought to struggle until you realized you werebeing carried over a series of rather perilous looking steps that were leadingto what appeared to be some sort of atrium. It was not empty, and you spottedthe guards that stood still as stone at different corners, their stoic faceslooking only ahead.

“Where am I?” You muttered, your words coming out too softly even to your ownears, but your carrier heard you nonetheless and glanced a look down at you asyou were held in his arms. The position embarrassed you immensely, and youcould not help but marvel at his strength, but you could not see any otheroption that did not lead to your being dropped, so… you did nothing.

“Caras Galadhon,” he said.

Oh no, he’s stopped speaking English, your mind intoned with regret, butyou merely nodded in his hold, too tired and too weak to question him.

Unlesshe meant that was the name of the place…

“I do not know your name,” you said finally, not sure where the question hadcome from, he was your captor after all, but it had fallen from yourlips nonetheless.

“Haldir.”

You inhaled.

“I see you’ve not come empty handed,” a melodious voice called and you realizedyou were being let down from his hold, your feet landing softly on the marble floor,though he did not relinquish his grasp on you which, though you wouldn’tadmit it, gave you great relief.

You felt dumbfounded, however, at the sight that met you of a beautiful coupleso… so fair, and almost blinding in their brightness. Words failed you,of course, and you felt as if you’d been touched by a force far mightier thanyourself and it made you feel small and insignificant in their presence. Allshouts and demands for your release that you’d planned since your most recentand previous bout of consciousness evaporated and you were left in awe. Is thiswhat it felt like to look upon Gods? There was a feeling of bliss and serenityinside you, but you questioned it and by doing so you were soon led onto a pathof emotion closest to despair.

You should not be here, your own mind railed with relentlessness.

Leave.

Run.

“I see everything inside you and hope that you might reconsider, at least forthe time being, as there is not much that can be done,” the fair woman said. “Butyou are welcome, and we hope that you will find some respite.”

How could someone be so wonderful to look at? You didn’t really know. Themoment seared itself in your memories and you realized that no matter what camenext you could never forget such a meeting.

They nodded their heads as if some communication had passed without yourknowledge and you felt Haldir bow his head slightly, still holding on to you ashis firm arm pressed across your back with his hand held just a little aboveyour hip. He led you away and you could not help but whip your head to lookback at them, wanting to say something more but unsure of what was left to besaid, so you remained silent, allowing yourself to be taken.

-

You ate some eventually, albeit sparingly, and while the food was the mostwonderful thing you’d ever tasted, and just what you needed, you found yourselfstruggling to enjoy it. None of this was right, none of it was yours. Thebeauty around you left you feeling dull and out of place and with thosefeelings so waned your health once again.

Even when your dirty and battered clothing had been taken and mended and you’dbeen dressed in their own clothes, you felt like the outsider that you knew youwere, certain that you’d never feel anything else while you remained there.

Haldir had not returned and while you certainly hadn’t befriended him, you didmiss his company. He was the first face you’d seen in this different worldafter all.

More days passed and the servants that intermittently flittered about grewincreasingly more irritating at how they treated you, always hovering and coaxingyou to drink this or taste that all while being unable to communicate clearlywith you. You must have been some sort of oddity to them, you realized, but thefeeling was mutual and you could not fault them for it, except when they werepractically shoving a bowl in your face and draping cloth over your bareshoulders.

You’d snapped then, immediately feeling guilty and childish when they hastilyretreated while not making any eye contact with you.

“You look ill,” a voice said and your head spun to see Haldir himself standingin your doorway, his hands folded behind him. Under most circumstances his commentwould have been rude, but as usual you didn’t have much energy to argue. Much.

“I’m fine,” you said, sinking into a rather comfortable chair as you shut youreyes. In some strange, inconceivable way you’d missed him.

“You wish to return home,” he stated.

You nodded, resting your head in your propped hand. You could hear hisfootsteps approaching and you opened one eye to glance at him, unsure of what tosay to him.

“The time will come when your path will become clearer to you, but until then…it does not do you well to take such little care of yourself.”

You wanted to thank him, after all you knew that there was truth to his words,but you could not speak at the moment because it felt that if you did, youmight say too much and that would lead to tears and you could never live it downif you let yourself succumb to such weakness in front of strangers, even ifthey seemed well-meaning. So, you nodded instead, covering your face with yourhands.

When you finally opened your eyes again, Haldir was gone.-More time passed, the days becoming weeks, and soon months, until finally yourealized that a year had come and gone and you had remained. With that timecame some acceptance and you did not fight the feeling. Haldir came and wentand a strange sort of connection had developed between the two of you that leftno room for complaint. He’d become almost a friend, if such a thing werepossible.

Of course, it was, your mind chided, he cared and thatmuch was evident by all the time he gave you when you knew that he had farbetter things to tend to.

Sometimes he’d walk with you in the gardens, your arm in the crook of his whileenveloped in comfortable silence, though sometimes you asked questions aboutthe new world you inhabited. His answers filled you with wonder and amazement,because it certainly did not sound like the world you knew, at least not completely.Sometimes you’d think of little things, like what had happened to your car, orhad anyone questioned why you’d stopped coming to work? Who missed you? It usedto worry you so much, but of late that feeling seemed to lessen and you felt… okay with being exactly where you were.Haldir did not ask you any questions about where you’d come from, though youcould see it there in his gaze. Before he had seemed so cool and aloof whichhad bothered you, but then something had warmed there, and in his blue eyes yousaw a gentility and kindness that was both parts startling and very welcome.

He smiled at you, after you’d told him some silly joke that you knew madelittle sense to him, which of course somehow made it even funnier.

A tight feeling caught a hold of your chest and there was something, somestrange little feeling growing inside you that took you off guard. It was joy,you realized. It was wonderful and frightening, but you couldn’t say it, couldn’ttell him, at least not yet.

Instead, you smiled back and gave his firm arm a squeeze in return, the pair ofyou continuing your stroll as if nothing in your world or his could hurt you.

-

A part of you had guessed it, especially when Haldir had let slip the ages ofthe elves around you.

They were ancient, but you… you were so new and young compared to themand it made you feel little, and worst of all; fleeting.

“And the humans here, do they grow just as old?”

He shook his head and you frowned, but said nothing.

Then a horn blew and the both of you stopped just as you’d been about to turnin the garden path, his stance stiffening beside you which doused your nervesin a frigid fear.

“What is that?”

“I must go. Come, I will take you back to your room.”

His hand held yours tightly and while the gesture had earned the both of you afew long stares from those you passed by, it gave you some lapse of comfort upuntil he’d brought you back to your room just as he’d promised. You looked athim expectantly, but he merely clasped both of your shoulders tightly and italmost felt as if he were holding you quite literally at arm’s length.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes, but do not worry, I will return when it is dealt with. Farewell for now,”was all he said to you and then he briskly left your presence as you stood inthe open doorway feeling quite abandoned, but there was a glimmer of hope heldat his words of promise that he would return to you.

You sighed, and returned inside after shutting the door behind you and makingyour way to your bed almost listlessly. You lay there for a long while, mullingover all of the time you’d spent together and how you missed him even then,despite the fact he’d only been absent for a few moments.

And it wasn’t as if he’d left you before, sometimes gone for weeks before returningto seek your company if you did not seek his first, but the abruptness of hisdeparture sent a pang of worry in your chest and you felt the first brimming oftears sting your eyes. You hadn’t cried, not for a long while.

Night came, then the dawn and noontime and before too long it had been threedays since Haldir had departed.

You felt wrecked by his absence, the feeling itself and the fact that you feltit so acutely and out of the blue leaving you to a sense of being lost anddesolate. One of the serving maids had seemed to feel pity on you and brushed afew strands of hair away from your brow as you’d sat slumped in your seat,staring out in the room without any focus. Neither of you could communicatewith each other very well, save for a few vague and often rather animatedgestures, and you’d long since decided it would be time for you to try andlearn their language, but the nagging grief of Haldir’s absence made it hardfor you to want to communicate with anyone at the moment. But the elf maidsmiled at you, giving off a warmth that you felt inside your chest. You smiledback, albeit weakly, and realized that perhaps you weren’t so alone or adriftas you’d imagined.

A soft knock resounded at the door and you turned your attention to it, unsureof who could be visiting you at that moment. The maid left you and answered it,however, and you immediately brightened when you saw who it was.

Haldir.

He was whole and present, standing in your room, a calm yet grateful expressionon his handsome face and then you felt as if the light inside was lit once moreand you stood, only halting when you eyed a thin red scratch across his cheek.

“So you did go to battle?” You asked him, fighting the urge to leap into hisarms. The maid swiftly left, shutting the door softly behind her.

“Yes, but it is done now,” he told you, raising a hand to stroke your cheek.

He’d never done that before, you thought with a smile as the simplegesture thrilled you far more than you wanted to say.

But he was back, and he’d come back to you.

“Haldir?”

“Yes,” he said, gazing into your eyes. His attention was very much fixed on you,but you saw a flicker of something there—perhaps it was hesitation? Reluctance?

“It feels like a ridiculous question,” you told him with a laugh, looking downat his broad chest, no longer able to meet his eye as you struggled to gatherwhat you wanted to tell him. “And very presumptive…”

“Go on,” he told you, humor laced in his words.

“Do elves… and my kind, do they ever become,” you struggled to tell him, heatrising on your cheeks, “I mean, what I mean to say is—do they everbecome more than friends? Does that happen here?”

There was something there in his gaze when you looked up, it was no longer the reluctanceyou’d detected, but a flash of sadness… longing even, but was brief and wassoon replaced by something else, something that made you feel as if you mightstart lifting off the ground with uncontained happiness. It was passion, you realized,a passion for you, a passion you knew immediately that you felt for him,too, even if it was only right then and there that you realized it.

“It does happen. Not often, but it is possible,” he told you with a grin.

“Oh, that’s good,” was all you said, feeling a little sheepish at your lack of eloquence,but you couldn’t blame yourself too much for it.

“Meleth nîn,” he said softly, a gentle fondnesscrinkling his eyes as he pulled you in closer, his sweet breath only a fewinches from your face and you weren’t sure if it was the furious blush or theheat of him that warmed you and had you melting in his intimate embrace.

Everything felt light, ethereal, and in your mind you knew that there would beso much to the story, so much that had to happen, so much that would happen,but none of it meant anything, not yet, not when Haldir pressed his soft lipsto yours and you melted under his kiss.

And you were glad, so glad that you’d fallen in this world after all.

#haldir x reader #haldir/reader #haldir x oc #haldir/oc #fanfiction #lord of the rings #lotr #fanfic #haldir-cupcake's writing #request #prompt filled

[whatnameshallitake]

I could’ve loved you

//to everyone i could’ve loved, but didn’t//

The non-chronological personal project of mine, as was requested by @writingonesdreams

This was written for everyone I could’ve kept falling fallen in love with, but ultimately did not.

I’m only posting the first two people on the list! Sorry~ Maybe someday, I might post the rest? Lmao ive fallen in love too many times

The whole work is below the cut~ I hope you enjoy ;D

•

 I | “Home is learning to forget”

 •

 Whenever I’m with you, logic escapes me.

You make me wonder.

You make me believe.

You made me hope.

 ~

 I remember a boy of happiness.

 —A boy who rose together with the sun, who accompanied the winds on whispering joy into my eardrums.

 His words trembled with laughter and merriment that it made me believe in magic in the world.

 I remember the warmth in his eyes as he stared into mine, heat filling my cheeks with every passing second.

 I remember his hands as they held mine in a comforting grip— calloused slightly, with long fingers. They removed every worry and regret etched on my palms.

 Do you remember? You smiled at me.

 It made me believe in wonder.

 ~

 Hope is a powerful thing—

 ~

 You told me you wanted to be an astronaut.

 It seemed fitting that you would want to escape this place.

 It seemed fitting that someone as otherworldly as you would want to come home again.

 I could almost hear the call of the cosmos, of the sun exclaiming, ‘My child, you belong here’

 After all, you were a child of the sun. The sea of people could never compare to the sea of stars. You didn’t need to be held abound by gravity.

 I could almost understand your heed to the universe.

 It called out to you, I know.

 But I could never understand why you couldn’t be home here.

  ~

 Once upon a time, you told me a secret.

 ‘I see the stars. I feel the sun. I hear the cosmos.’

 I know. I know enough. I know you.

 ‘I wouldn’t mind not coming back home

—if it meant coming back to you’

 I know the universe. I kno— What?

 ~

 In this small space of eternity that only held two people—

 You and Me

 —I understood two things:

 One, the familiar presence of your heat was overwhelming.

 In this infinite space between us, your warmth reached out to me. Your hand reached out to me and your laugh left me speechless when it finally reached me through the endless, empty, nothing, space between us.

 The sun probably granted you the flames to burn, but I didn’t mind much. I was happily ablaze, standing next to your dancing fire. It didn’t matter that I would burn, I wasn’t afraid of fire. I wasn’t afraid of you.

 I was afraid of losing you.

 Two, the familiar presence of your heat was overwhelming.

 In this infinite space between us, the emptiness stretched out until you were beyond reach. The cold suddenly struck me.

 It was suffocating.

 I didn’t realize how much I was accustomed to your warmth that I forgot you brought it with you.

 You brought with you the heat.

 ~

 this cold is unsettling where are you i need you

 i miss you

—you told me i could be your home

 ~

 Things you brought with you, on your voyage across the sea of stars:

 the wonder

the warmth

the joy

the light

the magic

 Things you forgot:

me

 ~

 Dusk settled and our long day ended.

 You were a child of the sun. You rose with him every morning.

 You left me to the cold night as it did.

 I rose with the moon in mourning.

 Maybe that was why the glamour of the dark was lost on me.

 I didn’t see the appeal of the moon and the stars.

—They weren’t you.

 And as shadows crept and settled against the eternal void you left within me, I learned how to forget the light you provided.

 I learned how to forget the warmth, and the wonder.

 I learned how to forget the joy and magic that you gave me.

 ~

 I now know one thing, from this empty space—

 Me

 —you left behind:

 The cold can’t embrace me like you did.

 ~

 —It’s hopeless.

 ~

 I could’ve loved you,

but I wasn’t the home you returned to.

 ~

 You, sun child.

 You, I know.

 I don’t need logic nor belief.

 I understand enough.

 You were the first of many

 ~

 I remember a boy of happiness.

 —The boy who rose together with the sun.

 I never could forget him.

 ~

 “welcome home...”

—the wind did not whisper back

 •

 II | “The day I left the Ghost of You”

 •

 The one left in rubble is not to be pitied

—he is to be respected and revered.

 ~

 It wasn’t as cold as I remembered.

 It wasn’t as broken as I thought.

 It wasn’t as empty as I’ve known.

 It wasn’t as lonely as it looked.

 ~

 Static noise only reached my ears even when the sea of people chatted away.

 I didn’t look to see the heavy words that floated around the atmosphere in a deceptively calm manner.

 All I could hear was the tap, tap, tap of my feet.

 My feet carried me to my place.

 My feet carried me to many places, and I’ve learned to know when and where I was needed.

 And right now, it seemed as if the universe needed me to drown in the sea of people.

 ‘Is it sure it needs me here?’

 I did not gain a reply; not that I expected any.

 The sea of people continued to spew out nonsense. At least, to me it was.

 The return of the tap, tap, tap accompanied me as I was led to a child.

 Curious.

 ~

 What makes a human mature?

 Is it to reach a certain age? To experience a certain event? To know certain information? To meet certain people?

 I don’t know.

 I don’t think I ever will

 ~

 I was still stuck in this barren wasteland.

 A handful of faceless people bump into me as I continue down the icy path.

 It was down a slope, into a new set of shadows that I’ve never encountered before.

 It really shouldn’t have surprised me; I had absolutely zero experience with the dark when I entered the empty space between.

 But now, as the path led on, it was quickly becoming second nature to walk this road.

 It has become familiar to the point of normalcy.

 Now that was dangerous.

 And for what?

 “You arrived earlier than expected.”

 I don’t really know.

 The universe led me to this boy, and I am but a servant to it’s whims.

 “Care for a match?”

 And the game began.

 ~

 Once I regained my bearings,

 Once I regained my logic,

 I became infatuated with problems.

 I quickly fell into the methodical process of solving, and thinking, and the systematical way of the numbers.

 “Your magic is useless here”

—silence

 ~

 You’ve lost the innocence of youth.

 It is evident in every empty smile you bear, with every haunting stare you send me.

 You have dead eyes.

 Then, I suppose you are…

 ~

 Chess is a favourite of mine.

 I’ve come to adore the thrill of the challenge it offers— every opponent with different techniques and strategies.

 It was easy to revel in the rush of things, to jump from one contingency plan to another.

 Device a strategy, watch it crumble, revise it.

 At least I had something to fall back on when everything else stumbled.

 I didn’t need to hope.

 I already knew.

 ~

 I remember thinking why the universe led me to you.

 I didn’t receive an answer.

 I remember you asking if I regret doing this to you.

 I d—

 ~

 Ah...

 Your face is annoying.

 Your voice is annoying.

 Your smile is annoying.

 You’re annoying.

  But I still listened to your idiotic nonsense.

 The shit that flow out of your mouth is astounding. Do you expect me to believe that you kiss your mother with that mouth?

 Hah. Disgusting.

 But still...

 Just finish your turn, it’s your move anyway.

 ~

 One day, the cosmos came to harvest a seed that I planted.

 I faintly remember the magic that used to keep it alive.

 The universe killed it, sadly.

 But never mind.

 A stronger, more vicious seed was cultivated to prevent it from happening again.

 This one had thorns now.

 ~

 An evil intention made itself known within the walls of my mind.

 I fell to the temptation of hatred.

 ~

 One plus one is two, as the mathematicians would say.

 Therefore, one thing led to another.

 From across this massive chessboard, the stares increased in duration.

 We played with the pieces, picked it up and put them away.

 That day, I found another thing to play with.

 ~

 You are but a shell of a child— so beaten and bruised.

 I was to be the new one you toyed with, as was penned by the threads of life.

 The tables have turned now

 ~

 Sometimes, on the rare occasion that I catch you peacefully asleep, I memorize every plane and lilting line that make up your face.

 You look so blissful that I can almost forget the feeling of emptiness your eyes hold.

 I can almost forget the pain and loneliness your exhales carry on into the dark.

 I can almost forget the weightless footsteps you impart upon this barren wasteland.

 I can almost forget that you’ve lost yourself in the eternal void in between.

 I can almost forget that you’re nothing but a gh—

 ~

 this is a dangerous game we’re playing.

 ‘i wasn’t aware that this was a game’

 we need to stop before i—

 ‘shush, no need to fret. i’m here’

 ~

 You fingertips draw small circles on the dip of my back.

 In the middle of this small piece of silence, an epiphany comes to me.

 ‘Your hands don’t feel like nothing, no more’

 I push down my dread and pretend to be unconscious

 ~

 It all fucking makes sense now.

 ~

 dear diary,

 today i found out what a villain must feel like all the time.

 it starts out with the thought of, “this will satisfy you”

 pushes you with the thought of, “you’ve already come this far”

 and it ends with, “what have i done”

 ...

 do you notice what’s different? what’s wrong?

 it never ends with a, “sorry, i’m so sorry”

 ~

 Your annoying face is now too sickeningly happy.

 Your annoying voice turned so sickeningly sweet.

 Your annoying smile became too sickeningly bright.

 And as your sweaty hands grab my cold ones,

As your poisonous lips touch mine,

As your tired mind race against mine—

 My thoughts are silenced with the mere weight your mouth places against my own.

 I close my eyes to avoid yours.

 ~

 You’re so sickeningly in love with me that it hurts.

 ~

 Deep in the shadows, you laid your heart bare to me.

 It was broken and dark, one that I really did not expect to belong to someone as young as you.

 But then, it did make sense. How could your eyes be so dark if it had not yet seen the light?

 No, only a battered and bruised and lost soul could condemn the path that led me to you with such sad shadows.

 Suddenly, all of the regret and pain and sadness and hate and hurt and—

 It all made sense now.

 Ah.

 This is annoying.

 But still, I listened.

 “This...”

 The words flowed out of your mouth easily enough, but why did the wind still strain to carry them? For a split-second, I wondered how such words felt so heavy.

 “I give this to you.”

 My throat dropped to the stone cold floor.

 “What?”

 I barely noticed my traitorous tongue move on its own accord. In my mind’s eye, I was still frozen in shock by what my ears have just picked up.

 “I love you.”

 Ah.

 “I love you so fucking much.”

 The slowed speed of the wind which carried the weight of your statements finally made sense. It was so heavy, it managed to break whatever was left of me.

 So fucking heavy that it made me wonder again.

 “Thank you.”

 nonoNoNonONoNonOnoNONON—

 I left.

 I stood up and raced up the dark path that’s become so familiar in the terrifyingly short amount of time.

 I left so quickly, hastily, I didn’t even notice the wilting flowers along the road.

 I failed to notice the tears that started to flow down your face.

 I didn’t notice pieces of your heart that lay there,

 broken, unmoving, silent,

 tragic—

 .

 Those were the pieces that I played with.

 ~

 I’m sorry. I’m so s—

 ~

 Although you were a child, you’ve seen a lot of dark things. Dark things that completely shrouded your life beneath the shadows.

 You didn’t even get to see the light again— even after your eyes stopped being so dead and started to fill up with joy at the mere sight of me I—

 I took it from you.

 ~

 I’m so so—

 ~

 What takes a human to mature?

 I may never know.

 I’ve forgotten how it was like to be human.

 ~

 I’m s—

 ~

 I never did go back to you;

 After I left...

 I heard that you died, but ghosts can’t really die a second time.

 ~

 I’m so sor—

 ~

 Years and years and years passed

—it’s only been days.

 You won the game.

 Checkmate.

 You won before it even started.

 You didn’t even have to do anything, I—

 Ah.

 I see.

 ...

 it took me a while to realize,

 no one really won,

 we both lost something the day i left.

 ~

 I’m—

 ~

 My feet carried me to places where I was needed.

 To this day, I’m still puzzled how I left you.

 You needed me, didn’t you?

 ~

 I’m so sorr—

 ~

 A child drowned in the middle of the sea.

 The sea of ghosts that whispered,

 “You

 You are dirty

 and You

 are worth nothing”

 He had no choice but to listen.

 Unknowingly, he became a ghost himself.

 ~

 I could’ve loved you,

but I didn’t want to lie.

 ~

 Yes, the universe led me to you.

 But I was the one who placed you second.

 And to your question

  My answer is,

 ...

..

.

 I don’t regret it.

 —but why does it hurt so much?

 ~

 Yes, it was nothing I ever imagined it would be.

 But I still left.

 ~

 I’m so sorry.

#adelie writes stuff #writeblr #writing #i couldve loved you

[sceptilemasterr]

“Reunion,” an Endless Summer fanfic

Title: “Reunion”

Fandom: Choices: Endless Summer

Main Pairing: Sean x Taylor (gender not stated)

Other Pairings: Grace x Aleister, Craig x Zahra, Diego x Varyyn

Genre: Romance, Vaanu Ending Override (this is a genre now because I said so!)

Warnings: Mild swearing

Summary: “If you love someone, let them go. For if they return, they were always yours.” During a group reunion party on La Huerta a year later, the old memories come rushing back. Sean and the others are invited to Elyys’tel for a Vaanti ceremony...

Note: A gift for the Sean Gayle fans out there! Yes, I know I’m 3 days late for the ESAPW Sean day, but I’m writing it anyway. It has some Grace x Aleister (”Graleister?”) moments too, so...it counts? Kinda? Either way, enjoy!

Sean re-read the letter twice before he rolled it up and stuck it into his back pocket.  He’d spent the entire flight in composing the perfect letter to Taylor; whether they’d actually be able to somehow read it or not, Sean had wanted to do something meaningful. He was still debating whether he’d set the letter adrift at sea in a bottle, or burn it and let the embers escape into the sky. Maybe Quinn would have an idea. She understood that sort of thing a lot better than he did.

Stepping off the Rourke-Hall International plane onto the familiar dirt runway, Sean was suddenly hit by an intense flood of memories. Behind him, Grace and Aleister descended as well, hand-in-hand. “Sean, are you alright?” asked Grace.

Sean shook his head to clear it and looked back at her. “Thanks, Grace, but I’m okay. Just memories.”

“Such is to be expected,” said Aleister. “Nevertheless, memories can be good or bad, depending on one’s outlook.”

“Bit of both, I guess,” said Sean, shrugging. “Come on, let’s head up to The Celestial. Hopefully it won’t be abandoned this ti--”

The roaring of an engine overhead cut him off, and the three of them turned to see a small private jet, wobbling unsteadily through the air, coming straight toward them! “Whoa! Watch out!” shouted Sean, grabbing Grace and Aleister by the arms and yanking them off of the runway. They watched as the plane did a barrel roll, overshot the runway, then swooped down low, skimming the tops of the jungle trees before flying back into the air. It did a full loop around The Celestial before coming in on a vector right toward the runway. It narrowly missed clipping the RHI plane before bouncing twice on its landing gear, finally coming to a stop a few feet away from the control tower. Somehow, impossibly, without a single scratch.

Sean, Grace, and Aleister looked at each other for a moment, and then Aleister said, “Ah. It appears Jacob has arrived.”

At that, the three of them couldn’t help but break down into laughter.

“Bro, I think I’ll fly with you on the way back, thanks,” Craig was saying to Aleister some time later. The whole group had all trickled in on this plane or that plane, until now all eleven of them were seated around a large table in The Celestial for brunch. Furball sat curled up in Quinn’s lap, licking the frosting off of a cupcake she was feeding him. “I felt like I was gonna puke!”

Jake laughed. “What’s the matter, can’t handle a few basic maneuvers? I’ll have you know that was all on purpose.”

“Pfft. ‘Maneuvers,’ my ass,” muttered Zahra. “And Craig, you did puke. On the window. It was disgusting.”

“How was I supposed to know the windows didn’t open?”

“It’s a PLANE.”

“...So?”

Aleister put his face in his hands as Grace rubbed his back soothingly. “The ignorance. It burns...” he muttered.

Sean was only half focusing on the conversation. His eyes were constantly drawn toward the twelfth chair, the empty one they had all placed between himself and Diego. Diego noticed him looking at it and flashed a reassuring smile. “I know. ‘Eleven Catalysts’ doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?” he asked.

Sean nodded. “Yeah. They made the right call. I just wish... I just wish we’d had more time. To say goodbye.”

Diego leaned across the empty seat to pat Sean’s shoulder. “We all do, but probably you more than anyone. I guess...well, Varyyn told me about a tradition the Vaanti have. They climb to the highest branch of Elyys’tel, and toss leaves containing messages for their departed loved ones into the wind. They say if you listen closely, you can hear a reply on the breeze blowing through the boughs.”

Sean took in Diego’s words. “That’s....” He swallowed hard. “That’s beautiful. D’you think he’d let us do that?”

“Sean, of course he would! Why do you think I suggested we go to Elyys’tel tonight, anyway?”

Sean broke into a grin and pulled Diego into a tight hug. “You’re the best, Diego. Damn, I’ve missed you.” He stopped, and looked around at the others at the table, smiling at each and every one of them. “I’ve missed all of you.”

“What, even me, bro?” asked Craig.

Zahra punched Craig playfully. “He sees us every day, dumbass. You know what he meant.”

“Oh yeah. I knew that!”

“Mmmmrl!” squeaked Furball, leaping up onto the table and knocking over the stack of waffles on Estela’s plate. She glared at the blue fox for a few seconds before breaking down and smiling, unable to stay mad at the adorable creature for long.

Quinn giggled. “Furball says he missed everyone too! And I agree with him!” She smiled sweetly and added, “Let’s not wait another year to have a group reunion, huh?”

Michelle nodded. “Amen to that, girl!”

A sudden slam from the direction of the front doors made everyone look up. “What was that?!” demanded Estela, leaping to her feet and dropping into a combat stance, butter knife in one hand.

Diego sighed. “Not again. It’s just the Vaanti, Estela, calm down. How many times do I have to tell them...uh, be right back, guys.” He jumped out of his seat and sprinted into the lobby. Estela dropped the knife and sat back in her chair, relaxing a fraction.

The rest of the group stared after him in confusion. “Well, that’s a thing that happened,” said Raj. “Anybody want any more waffles?” Silence. “Just me then? Oooooookay, be right back.” He stood up and wandered over to the buffet line.

From the lobby, Diego’s voice drifted into the dining area. “I asked Varyyn to tell everyone, no need for battering rams! Just knock normally next time!”

“We apologize, Canis, Consort of the Elyyshar.” The doors opened and Diego entered, along with two Vaanti carrying a massive tree-trunk between them.

“Uh...what’s with the log?” asked Michelle.

Diego waved her question off, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “Just...uh...a little confusion. Point is, finish your plates, because we’re heading to Elyys’tel!”

Raj was walking back to the table at that moment, a massive stack of waffles on his plate. Craig’s eyes widened at the sight and he jumped out of his chair, sprinting over to the buffet table. “Bet you 50 bucks I can eat more!” he shouted.

“Craig, no, c’mon--” Sean started to say.

“You’re on, dude!” Raj shouted back, taking a seat and drizzling his waffles with syrup.

Diego sighed and sat down. “On second thought, this brunch might take longer than I thought...” he said. “Uh... so, anyone seen any good movies, lately?

After about another hour of watching Craig and Raj wolf down waffles, and another couple of hours trekking through the jungle, the eleven Catalysts finally broke through the treeline and emerged at the base of Elyys’tel. Varyyn was standing at the entrance, flanked by Seraxa and three other Vaanti warriors. The elyyshar broke into a massive grin when he spotted the group. “My friends! Welcome! Diego had told me you were coming. This is a joyous occasion!” He waved the warriors and escorts away and raced forward, pulling Diego into a bear hug that lifted him straight off of the ground, spinning him around before setting him back down. He straightened and looked at the others, one by one. “I am delighted to see you all once again. Come!”

As the Catalysts followed Varyyn into the city proper, Sean noticed Seraxa following, looking him up and down appraisingly. “Aquila. It is a joy to see you again.”

Sean smiled. “You, too, Seraxa.” He looked around at their surroundings, admiring the extensions and additional levels and structures that had been added to the city since the last time he had been to the island. “I like what you’ve all done with the place.”

“We had a lot of help. The workers that Cygnus and Serpens provided to us have been most useful, especially since we lost so many warriors in battle with the Hydra.” It took Sean a few moments to realize she was referring to Grace and Aleister.

“Kee-la! Hi!” shouted a small voice. Sean bent down and scooped Taari up into his arms, laughing.

“Whoa! You’ve gotten bigger!” he observed as the Vaanti boy giggled.

“Yep! I’m gonna be a warrior soon! Rar!”

Sean set the boy down. “Wow, you sure are scary!” Then he glanced over at Seraxa. “Warrior? But there’s no one left here to fight...”

“Shh. Don’t tell him that,” replied the war chief.

Taari suddenly stopped in his tracks, looking around at the rest of the group. “Kee-la, where’s Dromma? Are they back from their trip yet? I wanna say hi!”

The entire group stopped in its tracks. Seraxa’s eyes widened suddenly. “Oh! Uh...Andromeda has gone a very far way away. They are still on their long journey, but the other Catalysts have come back in the meantime!”

“That’s not true! I saw Dromma yesterday!”

Seraxa laughed halfheartedly and patted Taari’s head. “I’m sure you did. Run along and play now, I want you at your best for the Wind Talking ceremony tonight!”

Taari pouted. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Aww.... Oh well. Bye, Cat-a-lissus!” He waved at the others and scampered off across a bridge.

An awkward silence followed this exchange. Sean, finally, was the first one to break it. “...What did you tell him about Taylor?” he asked.

Seraxa shook her head, a faint dark green tinge visible on her cheeks. “I told him that Andromeda is on a long journey with Vaanu. I did not wish to burden him with sorrow at such a young age. I...neglected to mention this earlier. I apologize.”

“No need to worry, Seraxa. I get it. It was a little awkward, but I get it.” Sean pushed his thoughts of Taylor out of his mind and put on a smile. “So! Who’s up for some wind-disc later?”

“Diego and I accept your challenge!” Varyyn called out from the front of the group.

“Whoa, I never agreed--” stammered Diego.

“Fine, then I’m with my bro!” declared Craig. “Let’s do this!”

That night, the Catalysts prepared for the Wind Talking ceremony. Varyyn and Seraxa had provided each of them with formal Vaanti attire for the occasion, which Sean appreciated after spending all day in a t-shirt sticky with humidity. The eleven of them stood in a single file line along a massive branch at the top of Elyys’tel, a set of flimsy-looking wooden railings being all that separated them from a very long fall. “I... I don’t know about this,” stammered Grace nervously. “Have I mentioned I don’t like heights?”

“Fear not, Grace. When these weak structural barriers inevitably fail, I will keep you safe from falling,” Aleister reassured her. “It’s simple physics, given the discrepancies between our respective body mass and my impeccable sense of balance.”

“You’re right. Even if I were to fall, if you held me tightly by the hand, the vector force would be sufficient enough to overcome the pull of gravity--”

Sean turns his attention to the leafy “altar” at the tip of the branch, where Varyyn stands resplendent in his full regalia. The Vaanti leader holds up two of the massive leaves they had all been given earlier, each one significantly bigger than an ordinary sheet of paper. “Tonight, we commence the Ceremony of the Wind Talking. For those of you unfamiliar with this tradition, we will each step forward to this place where I now stand. Face the wind, and read your words to your departed ones in a soft, clear voice. Allow the wind to carry the words, and when you are finished, release the leaf and pause. Let the rustling of the branches carry the departed one’s reply back to you.”

Varyyn then turned around, stepping to the very edge of the branch. He held up his first leaf, and began to read aloud, though too softly for Sean and the others to hear. They waited quietly, though Taari started to shuffle impatiently. When Varyyn was finished, he held the leaf aloft and released it, letting the wind catch it and carry it upwards and upwards until it was lost to the night sky. He paused for several moments, eyes closed and face raised to the sky, listening.

When this was done, Varyyn repeated the process with his second leaf. “Two leaves?” Sean heard Quinn whisper, curiosity in her voice.

“One for Taylor, one for Ximaedra, I bet,” Michelle whispered back.

When Varyyn was finished, he turned and walked silently back toward the group. He nodded to Diego, who took his own leaf in hand and stepped forward to the tip of the branch.

The rest of the Catalysts went in turn, as did Seraxa with Taari at one point. Grace and Aleister did their wind-talking together, but the rest went individually. Sean hung back, knowing his letter would take the longest to read, and letting himself go last for the others’ sake. Finally, it was Sean’s turn. Slowly, confidently, he strode to the edge of the branch, looking out along the La Huerta horizon to the point where the sky met the sea.

Opening his letter, Sean read it aloud:

Dear Taylor,

I don’t know where you are, or even if you’re still “you,” but I hope you’re happy and at peace. I wish we could have had more time together, but I, maybe more than anyone else in our group, understand making the hard call. The sacrifice play. I may not have liked it, I still resent that you were forced into the choice at all, but I’ve accepted it. I would’ve done the same thing in your place.

I’m on my way back to La Huerta now; it’s been a year and a day since I became your husband, and exactly a year since the day we left, and we’ve decided to celebrate with a reunion...where else but the place it all began. And no, I don’t mean suddenly breaking out into song on Jake’s plane, even if that was the moment I first fell in love with you.

Know this, Taylor, the love of my life: I may have moved on, I may have accepted our circumstances and tried to push my life forward in spite of this hole in my heart, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you. I will cherish the memories of our time spent together for the rest of my life. Whenever I look up at the stars, I will think of you, wondering if you’re out there somewhere, with Vaanu, looking back down at me. And I know it’s impossible, but if I had one wish, it would be to hold you in my arms. One last time.

Love, forever and always,

Sean Gayle

He was barely able to finish the letter as the tears began to flow down his face. He stared at the horizon for several long minutes, letter clutched in his fist. He heard a commotion and some muttering from the group behind him, and he knew they were getting impatient, but he needed this. He needed this moment. He took a deep, shuddering breath, held the letter aloft, and released it.

Sean closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky. The breeze whipped through the boughs of the great tree, and he concentrated, hoping to hear some fragment of Taylor’s voice. If he strained, he could almost hear words...and if he really tried hard, he could even hear that familiar voice....

“Sean, I...I’m glad you didn’t rage against my choice, or try to stop me. I knew you’d understand. It was the toughest choice I ever had to make, you know. But I hope... I hope you haven’t moved on too much. I’d like to grant you your wish, and so much more. Because this time, I’m here to stay.”

Sean blinked and shook his head. His own wishful thoughts had definitely taken over toward the end there. He knew logically that it wasn’t really Taylor, it was just his own thoughts and mind interpreting the sound of wind on leaves as words, but for just a moment, he had wanted so badly to believe... part of him still half-expected to see Taylor there, smiling at him, when he turned back around. Don’t be ridiculous. C’mon, Sean Gayle, he told himself before preparing to rejoin the others at the base of the tree.

He turned around.... And he stopped. His mouth fell open. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes, then pinched himself, then pinched harder, because they HAD to be an illusion. There was just. No. Way. But it was: behind them, the others were watching, enraptured, and it was clear they could see the figure standing before him as clearly as they saw Sean himself.

“TOLD’JA I SAW DROMMA! TOLD’JA THEY CAME BACK FROM THEIR TRIP!”

“God dammit, Raj, how much do I owe you?”

“Five hundred bucks, dude! I told you, Raj is always right! Called it, a year and a day to the minute!”

“It’s just... utterly illogical! How...?”

“Al, logical or not, I’m happy to accept it.”

“Guys, let them have their moment.”

But Sean heard none of this. The whole rest of the world could have vanished right then and there, and he wouldn’t have noticed. All of his attention was fixated on the person standing there before him.

“Hi, Sean. Did you miss me?”

@mysteli @brightpinkpeppercorn (yes I know it’s three days late sorry!)

#esapw #choices endless summer #endless summer fanfic #choices stories you play #sean x mc #sean gayle #grace hall #aleister rourke #grace x aleister #zahra x craig #zahra namazi #craig hsiao #varyyn #seraxa #taari #vaanu ending override