#ii loves to make little braids in iiis hair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lalacliffthorne · 8 months

Text

💜 starshine pt. V 💜

Rhysand x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: some long overdue introductions are made.

notes: god, I can't express how fucking happy the love you show for this makes me. I'm honestly pinching myself every time I read all your messages and comments, and I'm not even sure I'm actually processing them all because it's just so completely bonkers. anyway. I'm currently planning on how to proceed with this, and you can probably expect at least a few more chapters *winks and wiggles brows*. I realised we need a few more things before this feels complete. so, here's the next part. I will not be blamed for swooning or emotional damage or anything else.

______________________________________________________________

Exhaling softly, I buried my nose in my pillow, blinking and scrunching my brows. I could feel sunlight on my face and a soft breeze brushing over my skin that smelled like sweet blooming trees and cool mornings, intertwining with another scent that surrounded me, filling my lungs, familiar and warm, causing something to flutter against my ribs.

Slowly cracking open an eye, I squinted into the sunlight filtering through high glass doors. They were opened wide, allowing the morning air to filter through the big room, and as I blinked against the sleep in my eyes and my vision became clearer, my breath hitched a little at the sight of the mountain palace in the golden morning sun.

Hiding my big yawn in my pillow, I turned my head, craning my neck. But the bed behind me was empty.

Something skipped a little in my chest, and I slowly sat up, scrunching my brows against the light and blowing a strand of hair out of my face that had fallen from my braid. Rubbing my eyes, I slid off the mattress, and my gaze flickered towards the door leading into the hall, but then I caught a glimpse at something in the big mirror, and when I turned around, I saw the person out on the balcony.

My heart moved gently in my chest, and breathing out softly, I slowly started to make my way outside.

The sun was warm, just like the stone under my bare feet as I squinted into the light, my breath hitching a little when I caught a glimpse at Velaris down in the vale, the Sidra glittering. Then my gaze turned back towards the male sitting on the ground on the terrace, right in front of a few steps leading down to another, arms resting on his knees, eyes closed as his brows crunched a little against the bright sun. His dark hair was tousled from sleep and the soft breeze, the muscles in his back shifting when he laced his fingers together, and something warm spread through my chest.

Quietly padding closer, I let myself plop down next to him on the stones heated up to by the sun, so close that our shoulders and elbows were touching when I pulled up my bare legs and wrapped my arms around my knees. Drawing up my shoulders a little, I exhaled slowly, blinking into the sun as my gaze moved over the palace stretched over the side of the mountain, the balconies and terraces, huge windows open to let in the breeze, and the city far below. Then I turned my head.

Rhys' eyes were still closed, but the crease between his brows softened as I watched. The warmth of his skin was seeping through the thin cotton of my shirt, and his scent rose into my nose with every breath.

Feeling something gently thrum against my ribs, I carefully shifted a little closer, my shoulder pressing more into his biceps. Then I turned my head back ahead, breathing in the morning air and the smell of flowers as the light wind brushed through the strands fallen from my braid and the sun warmed my skin. My nose crinkled a little as I squinted into the light, something fluttering gently against my ribs.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys blink, brows drawing together as he opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on the city below. His iris looked lighter in the sun, almost like lavender.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, then he mumbled softly: “I don't know whether I deserve this.”

The flutter in my chest turned into a soft twinge, and I felt my brows furrow gently as I looked over at him.

“Deserve what?”

Rhys stared at the palace, the city in the vale.

“All of this. The people down there. I'm not sure I deserve them.” His voice was quiet and raw when he added softly: “Not after all I did.”

The twinge in my chest sharpened, and I swallowed a little.

“Rhys?”

His head turned like my soft call of his name ripped him out of dark thoughts, and I stared at him, feeling something tighten under my ribs when I whispered: “You can't save everyone.”

Rhys stilled, and I offered him a careful, crooked smile. “I know.” I raised one shoulder in a soft shrug. “I tried.”

The male stared at me, the muscles in his cheeks shifting as he swallowed and his eyes darted over my face. I could see the pain buried deep within, felt the emotions whirling under his skin that caused my chest to ache.

“It's the best we can do.” My brows furrowed gently, something churning softly under my ribs when I whispered softly: “Try.” My gaze flickered over his face. “And you did.”

Something rose in my chest, and I pressed my shoulder into his, staring at him. “All you did was to keep them safe. Keep your family safe, your home.” I swallowed softly and mumbled: “You gave everything to protect them.”

Rhys blinked, and something within him seemed to crack when he whispered hoarsely: “What if I gave so much, I ended up broken?”

I stared at him, feeling something tug and tighten in my chest. Then I shrugged just a little, smiling softly.

“Everyone is a little broken. Some maybe more than others, but – it's hard not to. In this world, how can we be anything but?”

Rhys' lips parted, his violet eyes shimmering in the sunlight as they found mine.

“Maybe we're broken.” I felt my brows crunch softly. “But that's not what matters.” I returned his gaze, steady, calm, feeling my heart thrum against my ribs.

“What matters is what we do with the pieces. Whether we put ourselves back together or push the broken pieces away and stay broken.” I smiled, soft and crooked. “I know that mending yourself back together is scary. Because – it probably won't end up looking like before. Some pieces are missing, others are broken beyond repair.” My eyes flickered over the male in front of me, his brows crunched up like he was fighting to keep himself together, iris shimmering as his gaze darted over my face.

“But what you build from the rest is still complete.” I felt my throat tighten a little and smiled softly when I whispered: “And it can still be beautiful.”

The muscles in Rhys' jaw shifted as he swallowed harshly, his eyes a little watery as they searched mine, emotion raging deep within them.

Pressing my shoulder into his, I watched him steadily.

“You're allowed to grieve what you've lost along the way.” I suppressed the urge to swallow again, staring at him firmly as something tightened harshly in my chest. “Just never think that because you've been broken - you can't be whole again.”

Rhys' nostrils flared, and he closed his eyes tightly. My heart tilted, and quickly, before I could stop myself, I stretched.

A light shudder seemed to travel through Rhys' body when I pressed my forehead against his.

“You gave everything for them,”, I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “Nothing about that makes you less of a male.” Something skipped and tumbled in my chest, and I smiled crookedly and mumbled softly: “If anything, it makes you even more worthy of their love.”

This time, the tremble that went through Rhys' limbs was stronger. His breath hitting my skin quivered just a little, then he dropped his head forward to gently press back. His nose brushed against mine, and suddenly, my whole body tightened in a soft, sharp inhale.

My breath hitched and stilled, and Rhys tilted his head a little to repeat the soft nudge. I could feel his fingers brushing over my knuckles as the side of his thigh pressed against mine, radiating warmth through the soft material of his pants while his hair tickled my forehead and his breath danced over my skin as he slowly, gently traced his nose over mine.

Swallowing, I pulled my head back a little, feeling my heart race in my chest and something tightening and pulsing under my ribs. Then I opened my eyes, and my breath stumbled.

Rhys' iris twinkled like galaxies, hues of silver and lavender swirling in deep violet, warm and bright as his gaze pierced into mine. The breeze brushed through his tousled dark hair, blowing wisps of hair that had fallen from my braid into my face, and Rhys raised his hand, carefully brushing them away. His thumb followed the line of my cheekbone, sending tingling shivers through my body, and Rhys' throat worked like he was trying not to swallow as his eyes dragged over my face.

The rise and swell in my chest grew unbearable, and I held my breath and blinked, pulling back and smiling softly and crookedly, even though my heart was pounding against my ribs.

I prayed Rhys didn't feel it, couldn't hear the strange flutter in my breath when I turned my eyes back ahead, over the palace dipped in golden light as the sun slowly crept higher up in the sky.

I could feel Rhys' gaze on my face for another second, steady, piercing and calm. Then he turned his head back ahead. His warm shoulder pressed into mine, and I felt him exhale slowly, his skin glowing in the sun as he closed his eyes again, brows scrunching a little.

Without being able to stop myself, I let my gaze flicker towards him and over his profile; his straight nose, high cheekbones, the strand of ink black hair curved over his forehead, the rest messy and tousled -

One corner of Rhys' lips turned upwards until the ghost of a crease formed in his cheek.

“Seeing something you like?”

My heart tipped over at the sound of his deep, rich voice, and trying to ignore the small hitch in my breath, I huffed and glared at him. Rhys' smile just widened.

“You know, I'm sure none of the others would complain if you didn't, but are you going to put on pants before we go down into the city?” His eyes were still closed, lips curved upwards, but his voice sounded a little hoarse when he mumbled softly: “Or are you planning on torturing me a little more?”

My breath hitched as my gaze darted towards him, my lips parting, and Rhys opened his eyes, his iris twinkling brightly as he squinted a little against the sun, looking down at me. The breeze ruffled his hair, and his muscles moved under his sunkissed skin as he shifted a little on the spot, his bare shoulder pressing into mine. He looked dark and warm and – beautiful.

Heartwrenchingly, achingly, breathtakingly beautiful. All of him, his eyes and his smile and the curve of his jaw, the way his muscles worked his under lean sides and powerful shoulders - and everything beneath. His heart, his doubts, his dreams. And even though I had seen him since that first day, had seen all of it and more -

My heart shuddered as I felt the rise and fall under my ribs, the tingles running over my spine and how my breath hitched with every soft inhale. Felt the harsh thrum of my heart, and suddenly, something tipped over in my chest as my heart shuddered again, and my lips parted.

Rhys' brows scrunched lightly. “Starshine?”

“Hm?” My voice sounded soft, breathy as I stared at him, something fluttering wildly against my ribs.

“Are you alright?” One corner of Rhys' lips quirked, his gaze flickering over my face looking torn between amusement and concern, and I blinked and nodded quickly, turning my gaze back ahead as my heart thumped in my chest.

Something rushed through my body as I swallowed gently and felt the flutter under my ribs become more violent.

☆

Making my way through the halls of The House of Wind, I tied the sleeves of my billowing tunic that I had tucked into my leather pants which fit snugly around my legs.

I had figured they were a lot more practical for another flight than a dress.

My heart was pounding steadily against my ribs as I checked if my braid was tied off properly and frowned softly when I realized that there were little wildflowers stuck within. How had they ended up in th-

The doors opened towards a terrace, and when I raised my head, my breath hitched.

Rhys was standing in front of the carved stone balustrade, wings folded comfortably against his back, so big they almost touched the ground. He was squinting into the sunlight, looking completely relaxed, the breeze brushing through his hair.

Like he'd sensed me, he turned his head, and my breath hitched a little when his eyes met mine, deep and vibrant and slowly beginning to twinkle.

Something skipped and tumbled in my chest, and not yet ready to confront the strange sensation of a realisation that had bloomed just a little earlier, I pushed it away and jumped down the few steps, crunching my nose as I smiled sheepishly.

“This alright?”

Rhys' lips curved. “Is what alright?”

I shrugged, turning in a circle and waving a hand over my body exaggeratedly, cracking a grin. “The clothes. You know, for – whatever you have planned. Meeting your friends.” My heart skipped a little nervously as I squinted up at him, coming to a halt in front of him.

Slowly, a crease formed in Rhys' cheek, becoming deeper and deeper the more his smile grew. His eyes were sparkling when he stared down at me, his deep voice vibrating over my skin when he mumbled: “You could turn up in a duvet cover and be beautiful.”

I somehow kept myself from holding my breath even as my heart suddenly toppled, and instead managed to deadpan.

“Alright, so what I'm getting from that statement is that this isn't the right thing to wear –“

Rhys laughed, his eyes crinkling with his wide smile when he stepped forward and grinned down at me.

“You know that is not what I meant.” His iris was bright as his gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked, his voice softer and steady when he said quietly: “Don't worry. You look beautiful. You always do.”

Barely suppressing the urge to swallow as my throat suddenly tightened, I stared up at him.

"And they'll love you." Rhys' violet eyes pierced mine, something rough in his voice when he mumbled: "They'd be idiots not to."

My heart dipped and swerved, and I inhaled softly and sharply before nodding lightly, feeling my lips quirk in a small, cheeky smile.

“Are you sure we can't just winnow or –“

Rolling his eyes with a grin, Rhys leaned down, and my breath got stuck in my throat with a soft sound when his arm slid around my back.

“Hold on,”, he mumbled, his breath brushing over the side of my neck, and I quickly wrapped my arm over his shoulder.

His hand slipped under my knees, then Rhys lifted me into his arms as he straightened again.

My heart skipped high into my throat when he hoisted me up a little, adjusting his grip until my body was curled into his chest. His scent filled my lungs as he squeezed me gently and looked at me, his eyes sparkling.

“Ready?”

I felt a brush of air when his wings opened, stretching wide, and quickly, I slid my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I nodded, and with one mighty beat, Rhys launched into the sky.

I shrieked softly, feeling Rhys' body vibrate with his low chuckle, then we dropped into a steep dive, and I clung to his shoulders, squealing loudly.

I didn't know how long we were in the air. Rhys'´ wings were stretched wide and steady, carrying us lower and lower, their thin membranes in parts almost see through against the sunlight. Sometimes, he dropped a little just to hear me squeak, laughter vibrating through his chest every time he rightened us smoothly and turned into an elegant curve. I peaked over his shoulder once, only to feel my stomach turn over at the sight of the city so far below, I quickly squeezed my eyes shut again and buried my face back in the crook his neck.

Finally, Rhys caught himself out of a gentle descent, his wings beating a few times until he landed on his feet smoothly.

Slowly loosening my tight grip, I cracked open an eye, feeling a relieved breath leave me when I saw the cobblestone only a few feet beneath me.

Lifting my head, I felt my heart rise softly as I looked up the façade of the townhouse made from sandstone we'd landed in front. The sun just caught the stained glass window over the door, the smell of the rose bushes planted in the small front yard soft and sweet. The roof with a huge round window in the attic glittered in the sunlight, and the windows on the second and third floor were opened wide to let in the gentle breeze.

Rhys leaned down, letting me slide out of his arms as he placed me back on my feet. I raised my head when he straightened, and my heart lurched and tipped over when I realised we were standing chest to chest.

Rhys stilled a bit, his head dipped to look down at me, dark hair dishevelled from the flight and still looking perfectly tousled. Something closed around my throat when his eyes flickered over my face, warm and twinkling a little, and I couldn't keep myself from swallowing.

Behind me, the front door was opened, followed by a deep rumbunctious laugh, and when I quickly looked over my shoulder, my heart skipped high into my throat as the source of the sound stepped into the sunlight, squinting and grinning boisterously.

The Lord of Bloodshed looked exactly like I had imagined based on the stories Rhys had told me about him. Tall; so tall he almost had to dip his head to the side to walk through the high door, wide shoulders and chest, body all corded muscle. Half of his dark hair was gathered in a bun at the back of his head, a few strands falling into his face as he walked down the steps, huge Illyrian wings tucked against his back as his grin made his eyes crinkle and caused the scar on the side of his face to shift.

He made it a few feet before noticing Rhys and me. He slowed before stilling on the spot, his grin disappearing a little as warm hazel eyes met mine.

Carefully, I smiled, soft and crooked. Behind me, I felt Rhys shift, straightening.

Another figure appeared from the hall that was dipped in shadow, though the darkness seemed to thicken a little as it shifted away from the tall male stepping into the sunshine. It didn't leave him fully, ghosting around his shoulders and the wings folded smoothly against his back, like soft whisps of darkness that followed the shadowsinger as he moved down the steps, amber eyes piercing mine.

Where the General's face was rough and more rugged, the face of the Spymaster was all sharp lines and beauty dark like death, but still, there was something gentle buried underneath as his gaze flickered over me.

“Cauldron's sake, can't you two wait?!”

The bright, warm voice drew my eyes away from the shadowsinger's, and a female appeared in the door, her scowl melting into softly widening eyes.

“Oh,”, she breathed, and I felt my lips rise into a smile without being able to help it.

The Morrigan, as Rhys sometimes called her like it was a title more than just a name, looked like sunshine. Her flowing hair really was the color of honey, her eyes a gentle warm brown, soft freckles on her nose and something like awe in her gaze.

Her lips, painted deep red, parted, but before she could say something, the Lord of Bloodshed moved. There was something strange in his eyes, something in his drawn brows as he walked towards me with big strides, and I could feel Rhys tense behind me. But before he could even open his mouth, the huge Illyrian warrior reached me.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and the Lord of Bloodshed lifted me off my feet in a warm, crushing hug.

My breath hitched, and my lips parted softly when a wave of emotions crashed over me. Thankfulness and relief and pain soothed, mixed with warm vibrating affection, so strong and jumbled, a little tightness built in my throat.

He felt different than Rhys; rougher, louder and warm and full of unbridled life, and –

Something surged in my chest, and I blinked hastily against the way my eyes welled. Because the infamous Lord of Bloodshed felt kind. Kind and gentle, and good.

“Hi?”, I whispered a little hesitantly, and a soft chuckle rumbled through the huge Illyrian.

“Hi.” I heard the grin in his deep voice, warm and rumbling as he squeezed me tightly before shaking me a little and causing a soft giggle to break from my throat. Then he slowly placed me back on the ground, holding me tightly for another second before straightening up, and when I raised my head, he was beginning to smile down at me, wide and unrestrained.

Movement at the corner of my eye made me tip down my head, and something shifted softly in my chest when Morrigan sent me a smile. It was bright and beaming, but her eyes were a little watery, and she moved without hesitation, wrapping me up in a hug so tight, I held my breath.

“Hello,”, she mumbled, her warm voice a little wobbly, and my heart tightened gently as I carefully wrapped my arms around her and squeezed back. She too felt gentle and good, but vibrant, like an orchestra rising into a striking finale.

Mor kept me in a ribcrushing hug for another second before pulling back, sniffling a little as she beamed at me, and I slowly grinned back.

“So that's her.”

The voice, so deep and low, sent a light tingle down my spine, and when my gaze moved, it met the shadowsinger's, his golden eyes piercing mine.

The Lord of Bloodshed crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes sparkling as he sent his High Lord a shit-eating grin. “Now I get why you kept her from us.”

Rhys scowled as the tall Illyrian sent me a wink, but a few feet away, the lips of the shadowsinger curved at the corners.

“Honestly.” Mor rolled her eyes, but she looked like she was suppressing a smile. I threw Rhys a look.

You know, he's right, I get it too. I sent him a wide, cheeky grin and raised my brows. Why you thought they'd steal me away? I mean; I'd let them -

Something shifted in Rhys' eyes; a growl rumbled from his chest as he moved forward, his chest pressing into my back, and my heart skipped and my breath hitched.

Mor furrowed her brows, but her lips twitched. “Are you alright?”

Rhys huffed as he stared down at me, but it almost looked like he was pouting, so much so, something tipped over in my chest, and I started to beam up at him, wide and cheeky.

Something in Rhys' glare shifted, became soft and bright. Then he blinked, and my heart tumbled gently against my ribs when he tore his eyes away from mine and grumbled under his breath: “I just remembered why I have been putting this off for so long.”

Both Illyrians rolled their eyes in unison, the General flipping him off easily while the Spymaster's lips twitched, and Rhys returned the foul gesture before looking down at me, his eyes twinkling even though he gave a dramatic, long-suffering sigh as he raised his brows.

“Starshine, meet my irritating and nosy family. These are Mor, Cassian and Azriel.”

Mor beamed at me, Azriel dipped his chin lightly, and Cassian bowed his head with a cheeky wink. I slowly grinned back, feeling something hop against my ribs. Then I blinked and blurted: “It's really good to finally meet you, but I'm starving -”

Cassian snorted and started to laugh, his head tipping back as his shoulders shook, and Azriel pushed past him, his lips curving when he blinked into the sun, mumbling: “Looks to me like she's going to fit in just fine.”

☆

Blinking into the sun, I dropped my head when something cool brushed over my shoulder, and Azriel sat down next to me and handed me something.

My heart skipped and my lips parted in surprise at the sight of the waffle wrapped in a paper napkin, sprinkled with powered sugar. There was a café in the alley to our right that sold them, and even though earlier at breakfast, Mor had ordered half the menu, the smell whafting from it when we'd passed it a little while ago had made me look at the window wistfully.

“Thank you.” I looked up at the shadowsinger, still a little wide-eyed and surprised, and there was a soft chuckle from next to me that made my heart skip.

“Bribery.”

“Hey, shut up.” I felt my lips curve into a bright smile without being able to help it, quickly kicking Rhys' shin. He was sitting on my other side and squinted against the sun, cheek creasing. He looked completely relaxed, his skin glowing in the warm light as he lounged on the bench, his arm draped over the backrest behind me. “You're just jealous that he didn't bring you one.”

“Yes, as his High Lord, that does make me wonder.” Rhys narrowed his eyes in mock thought, and Azriel huffed, his lips quirking as he blinked into the sun.

Breathing in the sweet smell of flowers, I plucked off a corner of the still warm waffle, the sweet dough melting on my tongue as I blinked into the sunlight. Something warm was pulsing in my chest as I let my gaze wander over the little square surrounded by big, sandstone buildings.

Mor was crouched a bit away on the cobblestone, talking to a female painting the ground with a beautiful sunset sky. Cassian was over at the fountain that wasn't carrying any water; instead, flowers were growing within, spilling over the edges, violets and lavenders and pinks mixing together with small white blossoms. He was playing with some children, who had seen the mighty warrior and had shied away until he had grinned widely at them. Now, they were trying to wrestle him down, his dramatic groans echoing through the square.

Next to me, Azriel leaned back, his wings folded comfortably behind him as his golden eyes moved over the square, watchful but relaxed. The blooming trees whispered in the soft breeze, petals chasing over the cobblestone, and I exhaled softly and felt something rise in my chest, fluttering and violent.

Gentle claws scraped over my mind's walls, and my heart skipped softly.

“You okay?”

Rhys' voice rumbled through my head, warm and relaxed, and my breath hitched as my eyes flickered over his friends, his family that had taken so easily to me, it felt like I had been with them since the beginning.

Blinking, I tipped my head back a little, looking up into the clear blue sky where even in daylight, the pale shape of the moon was visible, and that swelling feeling under my ribs grew.

It's beautiful, I whispered in my mind, turning my head, and my eyes met violet ones, bright and twinkling as they flickered over my face.

A whaft of warm, flowery perfume filled my nose, then Mor squeezed into between me and Azriel, sighing happily as she squinted into the sun. “Should we save him?”

I looked over towards where Cassian was buried under at least six little Fae children that were yelling and climbing over him.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's lips quirk as he reclined lazily. “He looks like he's got it handled.”

Cassian dramatically went limp. Then he stirred, sending children tumbling over the cobblestone laughing as he straightened up and grinned at them, and I giggled.

Getting to his feet, Cassian patted the head of one of the children and sent them a wink before beginning to walk back towards us, the children going back to chasing each other over the square.

“Is your back alright, brother?” Rhys watched him get closer, creases in his cheeks deepening. “I could swear I heard it crack when you got up.”

“I heard it.” Azriel squinted into the sun.

Mor sighed dramatically. “Tragic. The mighty hero is getting old.”

“I could take a look at it.” I blinked up at Cassian innocently. From the corner of my eye, I saw the others look towards me as I shrugged, pulling off another piece of waffle. “I deal with injuries of the elderly all the time.”

Rhys started laughing, his head dipping back, and my heart swerved at the deep, rich sound. On my other side, Mor was laughing as well, bright and causing her body to vibrate as the Spymaster grinned, and Cassian scowled, but his eyes were twinkling mischievously when he narrowed them and pointed at me. “Careful, little one.”

"You know she could take you, right?" Rhys was smirking.

I only squinted up at Cassian, feeling my lips curve cheekily.

There was a light pull on my sleeve, and when I looked down in surprise, my heart skipped gently.

A small Fae girl, just a few years old, was standing in front of me, looking up at me with huge eyes.

I could feel my lips rise, and sliding my waffle into Rhys' hand, I slipped off the bench, crouching down until I was on her level before sending her a slow, wide smile.

“Hello.”

The girl shuffled a little, her eyes sheepish as they flickered over me and the flowers still stuck in my hair. Then she held out her hand.

Something rose softly underneath my ribs when I slowly took the small paper blossom from her tiny fingers. Carefully, I placed it in my palm, staring at it. Then I looked up at her through my lashes and sent her a slow, cheeky smile.

“Want to see something?”

The girl nodded quickly, and feeling my smile brighten, I looked down again, closing my eyes for a moment. Then I dipped my head and gently, very gently, blew air over the blossom.

Golden sparks twinkled, making the little girl's eyes grow big, and slowly, before our eyes, the paper flower turned into a real one, its purple petals slowly opening.

The girl's eyes were huge when she looked up at me, beginning to beam, and grinning back widely, I leaned forward, carefully tucking the flower behind her small, pointed ear. Then I straightened up again and sent her a light wink, and with a quiet giggle, the girl quickly turned around, darting back over the square.

Staring after her with a wide smile, I slowly pushed myself up and back onto the bench. Then I raised my head, and my breath hitched a little when I found four pairs of eyes on me.

Mor's lips were parted softly, that strange vibrant awe back in her gaze while Cassian's lips were curving. Azriel's head was dipped to the side a little, a barely there twinkle in his eyes – and Rhys' iris looked brighter than the stars as he stared at me.

“What?”, I mumbled sheepishly, feeling a little heat bloom on my cheeks. Then I caught sight of the huge piece missing out of my waffle and immediately widened my eyes, glaring at Rhys. “Hey!”

☆

“I told you they'd love you.”

My heart skipped softly, and when I looked over my shoulder, Rhys leaned into the open doors, squinting into the low sun as one corner of his lips creased.

Something fluttered softly against my ribs.

“Well, I am very loveable.” I sent him a bright, cheeky grin, and Rhys huffed, the crease in his cheek deepening as he pushed off the doorframe.

Watching him come towards me, I blinked and turned back around, breathing out as I held my face into the warm, sinking sun.

We were back at the house that I still didn't quite believed was supposed to be mine, the window doors open to let in the soft evening breeze as I sat on the stone steps leading from the terrace down into the garden. The light of the sinking sun was dipping everything in a golden shimmer, faeries whizzing through the flowers and tittering happily.

Something brushed against my shoulder, then Rhys took a seat next to me, propping his arms onto his knees and squinting into the light.

“Are you sure you want to sleep here?”

I huffed softly. “I am sure I'm not keen on more flying.”

Rhys' lips curved, his violet eyes piercing the side of my face. “You're insulting my flying?”

“I'm insulting your need for aerial maneuvers.”

Rhys slowly began to grin. “I'm taking that personal.”

“Good. It's awful.” I barely held myself back from breaking into a wide smile.

Rhys' eyes crinkled as he stared at me. Then he blinked and looked over his shoulder. “The main bedroom is on the third floor. Everything's there, so –“

Something closed around my throat, and I quickly whispered: “Thank you.”

Rhys looked at me, and I stared back, trying to swallow against the tightness in my chest as suddenly, the words stumbled from my lips.

“Thank you for trusting me. With this, this city. Your family. And –“, I blinked, “for buying me a house, you - complete – maniac, who just does that?!” I exhaled a little tremblingly as something skipped and fluttered in my chest and I sniffled a bit, my eyes suddenly burning a bit.

Rhys stared at me, the muscles in his cheek working as his lips parted.

“Thank you,”, I whispered a little wobbly, and I could feel Rhys swallow when for a moment, he looked like a dozen answers were running through his head, things he wanted to say stumbling over each other.

But when he opened his lips, nothing came out but one word, quiet, simple and a little hoarse.

“Always.”

A soft shuddering breath left me as my shoulders sunk, and Rhys' violet eyes dragged over my face. Then he blinked, and one corner of his lips curved gently.

“Sleep tight, starshine.”

I swallowed, and Rhys got to his feet, sending me a light wink that made my heart swerve as he started walking down the steps into the garden. I could see the way his shoulders shifted, the way he stretched his neck a little, and suddenly, something dropped into my stomach.

“Wait!”

I darted to my feet, and Rhys stilled. Then he looked over his shoulder, and before I could stop myself, I blurted: “Stay.”

Rhys' lips parted, and hastily, I squeezed my hands into fists.

“I just –“ My eyes darted over his face; my heart skipped once, high, and with a soft breath, I felt my shoulders sag.

“I hate the thought of you up there alone,”, I mumbled.

Rhys blinked. Then the tension bled from his muscles, and his lips curved, just a little.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I breathed out, my eyes darting over his face, illuminated by the sinking sun, his dark hair tousled, his iris a soft violet, and somehow, I managed to ignore the rising, swelling feeling in my chest.

The curve to Rhys' lips deepend, and he slowly turned a little, his eyes beginning to twinkle in the light as he raised a brow. “I can take the couch.”

My heart fluttered high, and I tried to not let it show, just grinning crookedly.

“What, this huge house has no guest room?”

“I thought I'd leave the details of which room becomes what to you.” The twinkle in Rhys' eyes seemed to grow as he slowly started to saunter back towards me, slipping his hands into his pockets as he shrugged casually.

“Convenient.” I felt my lips curve as the flutter in my chest grew sky high, my breath catching when I caught sight of the crease in Rhys' cheek.

“I'll take the couch.”

“No, you won't.” My voice was steady, maybe even amused, even though my heart was beating out my chest the closer Rhys got as I suddenly wondered what I was doing.

Rhys' eyes crinkled a little as he moved up the steps towards me. “What if I snore after all?”

“Then I´ll kick you.” I tried to keep my breathing even when he stopped on the step right beneath mine, almost on eye level for once, my heart missing a beat when I swore I could feel his chest brush against mine.

The crease in Rhys' cheek deepend. “So violent.”

I must've managed to deadpan, because he chuckled, a grin slowly spreading over his face. Then he blinked, and it dimmed, becoming soft when he mumbled, his deep voice a gentle caress over my spine: “Are you sure?”

My heart jumped against my ribs, and I probably should have listened to the warning of its irregular rhythm or the way my breath couldn't seem to stay steady.

But I just smiled back, soft and cheeky and crooked. “Yes. I'm sure.”

Rhys' gaze flickered over my face, and something shifted in his iris, the twinkle a little deeper as he nodded gently. "Alright."

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020 @lizziesfirstwife @brandywineeeee @t0uch-starved-h0e @sharknutz @valencia-rou @twsssmlmaa @waytoomanyteenagefeels @luvmoo @starrybeesandlibraries @corvusmorte @marmorjorts @bubnix @wallacewillow0773638 @ailyr92 @azrielshadows1nger

#rhysand #rhys #rhysand x reader #rhysand x female!reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand/reader #rhys x reader #rhys imagine #rhys/reader #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #starshine #lalacliffthorne

612 notes · View notes

bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 4,994

warnings: swearing, smoking, loneliness, anxiety, specific descriptions of billy’s abuse/fighting/trauma, (if this is triggering, please skip out <3), neil

a/n: hi my loves!! here we are. i really tried to put my back into this one. lots happens and i really hope you enjoy it. thank you for all the positive feedback you’ve given me with this series. i’ve enjoyed writing it. the next part, part five, may be the last one. we’ll see how it goes once i get to writing it, but that might be it. a part six is possible, but i’m not sure yet! i love you all. also, i’m tagging @writethrough because she’s given me a plethora of sweet ideas for this and done nothing but motivate me. i appreciate it more than anything. happy reading!! <333

before you read, listen to: eyes without a face by billy idol and/or love of my life by queen

————

“Billy.” He’s warm. He’s so warm. And his arm is heavy where he’s thrown it over your back, hooked his fingers under your side.

“No.”

“Billy, please.” You’re pleading with him. He’s practically on top of you, tucked into your side like this, the both on your stomachs.

“No,” he says into your shoulder.

“Billy, I have to pee.”

He groans. “Whatever.”

He rolls off of you onto his back, and watches as you pull yourself up and out of bed, leaving to use the bathroom.

While you’re gone, Billy thinks about how he’s never slept in someone else’s bed. Every girl he’s ever been with has been in his bed, when he knew no one else was home (for the most part). He never wanted to chance the interaction with someone else’s family.

But you feel safe. Your home feels safe. And you’re not just some chick he’s invited over for a little temporary stress relief.

Billy also thinks about how he’s never had a sleepover. He never had friends to do that with when he was younger—Neil would’ve thought it was inappropriate even if he had.

Billy stretches, sliding further into the bed and off the pillows, arms over his head. He then relaxes his arms, one flopping over the spot you’d been in. His hand bumps into something soft, and he runs his fingers over the sheets, searching for it. He knows what it is before he sees it.

It’s a teddy bear. His heart clenches. He hadn’t even realized you’d been cuddled up with that thing all night, and thinking about you like that makes him feel all soft and gooey.

For a second he feels a pang in his chest, like he shouldn’t be letting you turn him into a pussy. But those aren’t his words. He knows it.

Billy thinks about his mother for a moment. How she’d love you. He was so shy as a kid. She always had a soft spot for the shy ones.

He fidgets with one of your bear’s ears, remembering the one he’d had as a kid. His mom had given it to him. It was this pale blue color, and though small, but it always felt just right to hold. He’s pretty sure it’s in a box somewhere now.

Your footsteps snap him out of his reverie. You return with a little yellow paper between your fingers.

Billy Hargrove splayed out in your bed is something you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to. He looks like a dream. His curls are frizzy from sleep, the cutoff tank top he’s wearing twisted around his torso, one thigh sticking out from under the covers.

“Mom’s not here,” you start. “Left a note saying Wendy called and they’re having brunch. Apparently she didn’t want to wake us.”

You set the paper down on your nightstand and plop on the bed beside him, sitting up on your knees.

“You look so pretty,” you tell him.

Billy starts laughing. You swat at his side, but he grabs your hand and pulls it to his mouth, pressing a warm and slightly chapped kiss to your skin.

“So do you,” he says, squeezing at your hand. You almost argue with him, but the look in his eye tells you he really thinks so, and you decide against deprecating yourself.

You run your fingers over his hair. “You should let me braid it today.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Only if you tell me who this is.” He grabs for your bear, shaking it around before sitting it up on his stomach.

You gasp dramatically, bringing a hand to your chest. “That’s Teddy.”

“Teddy? How original.”

“Fuck you, Hargrove. Teddy is a gentleman.”

“A gentleman who sleeps in your bed every night,” he argues.

“He’s comforting. I’m lonely.” That hits a nerve, and you watch Billy’s expression change.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

You take your bear, standing him up on Billy’s stomach. He puts his arms under his head, watching you. “You can ask me anything, Billy.” He tugs on your bears arm absentmindedly, nodding.

“Are still lonely even with me around?”

You stop, put Teddy down. You think about what to say for a moment, and your silence freaks Billy out.

“Because if you are, tell me what to do.” He sits up, and you watch as he adjusts his shirt and shakes out his hair.

Your heart starts to pound and your mind is abuzz with emotion. All of it for him.

“Sometimes I am. When you’re not with me.”His shoulders relax a little, though he hates knowing you feel alone at all.

“But it doesn’t really ache anymore. I don’t really have this longing for someone to care about me. And I know I’ve had my mom, but that’s not enough, you know? Even if I feel selfish saying that.”

“But now I have you. And I’m pretty sure you care about me.”

I more than care about you, Billy thinks.

Billy puts a hand against your cheek, and you lean into his touch. His lips quirk up at the gesture.

“It’s not selfish to want to be cared for,” Billy tells you. “You’ve taught me that, you know.”

“Really?”

He nods. “And I know what you mean about the ache. Sometimes you just want someone in the room with you, and that’d be enough. But, Y/N, I really do care about you. Even if I don’t say it enough. You’re my best friend.”

Both of Billy’s hands are on your face now, and his tone is nothing but sincere.

“You’re my best friend too. I care about you loads, Billy.”

“Really?”

“Yes. More than anything.”

You lean up, and kiss him on the forehead. It’s lingering and soft. Billy feels like he could scream or maybe cry.

You’re letting him in. He wants to stay.

————

“You’re sure you’re not hungry?”

“I’m sure, babydoll.”

Your breath catches at that name.

Billy’s never been much of a breakfast person. He always preferred to wait until lunchtime. But nevertheless, he appreciates your offer to fix him something. He also knows he should probably leave soon. Max wants to go to the arcade today.

You grab hold of the edge of the kitchen counter, backing up a little ways and stretching yourself out, head bent to face the floor.

“Billy?”

“Hm?” He leans against the cabinets next to you. He’s gotten dressed, though you’re still in your pajamas. You hate that he’s going to go soon.

You straighten, looking at him. There’s been something on your mind. “Why don’t you ever change your ring or your necklace? I only ask because you change earrings, but those stay the same.”

Billy smiles at you. “You spend a lot of time looking at what I wear?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure.” He winks at you. You ignore it.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you say.

He pinches your side. “It’s fine. The ring is just my favorite. That’s all. And it gives me something to mess with when I’m anxious.”

“So all the time?”

“Shut up.”

You laugh.

“The necklace…it was my mom’s.”

Your breath catches a little, and you lead Billy back to your room where he can sit. He settles on the end of your bed. He hasn’t told you much about her, other than that she left. That his parent’s relationship wasn’t a good one.

But you can tell he loved her. That he misses her.

“She, um, she left my dad and me when I was a kid. She’d had enough of his shit, you know? He was a fucking horrific husband. Not that he’s any better now, by any means.”

“But there was one night a while before shit really hit the fan that he’d screamed at me. My baseball team lost and he said it was all my fault because I was too afraid of getting hurt. She sat me down and told me not to listen to him, that if I didn’t want to play anymore I didn’t have to.”

“And then she was taking her necklace off and putting it around my neck. She said it was so I’d always remember to be myself. To be a kid. Guess that didn’t really work out though.”

“So I wear it because even if I’m mad at her, I still miss her. She was the only one who ever treated me like I was perfect the way I was. Until you.” Billy looks down.

You’re quiet for a minute. He fusses with your bedding.

“Billy, you know I’m not going to leave you right?”

The words are out before you can stop them, but you feel like he needs to know. Billy has made it clear that he feels a lot for you, and it’s important you do the same.

His eyes meet yours.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you say again. “I just want to make sure you know that.”

Billy stands. “Hug?” he asks.

You nod and he’s wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck like he could stay there forever.

————

Billy picks Max up from the arcade later that day, fingers anxiously tapping the steering wheel.

Is he really about to talk to a fourteen-year-old about love? Yeah, he is.

“Maxine,” he says. She whips her head towards him, raises a brow.

“William.”

“Can we have a conversation? About serious shit?”

“I don’t know, can we?” She quips.

“Max—”

“Yes, we can, Billy. What’s so wrong that you need to talk to me?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “And I’m trying to be a better brother, okay? Let me have this.”

“Okay.”

“Do you love Lucas?” He asks.

Max contemplates the question. Lucas has understood her in ways no one else has. He puts up with her and wants her back each time she dumps him. He was welcoming from the moment she stepped into Hawkins.

“Yeah, I think so. I think I do.” She pauses for a moment before continuing. “Are you in love with Y/N? Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah. I am,” he tells her.

“Wow,” she says.

“What?”

“Nothing. Billy Hargrove wanting to be a better brother and he’s fallen in love? Crazy shit.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that?”

They’re both quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the roar of the engine and the wind.

“I’m sorry, you know,” Max says. “I know I’m not that great of a sister either. I don’t exactly do anything to make your life easier.”

“That’s not your job. I’m the one that’s supposed to look out for you, Max.”

“That’s the thing though, Billy. You’re really not. It’s supposed to be my mom. You’re a kid too. And I could be better. Maybe Neil wouldn’t get so mad at you if I didn’t do things to piss you off so often.”

“Max, that’s not your fault,” he tells her. “My dad is an asshole.”

“I know, I know. I’m just saying. I’ll try to be better.”

“Why don’t we both give that a shot, huh? Try not to treat each other like shit. And for the record, I’m sorry too. I’m a dick to you all the time.”

Max nods and smiles at him.

They’re both trying. And that’s a start.

————

“How do you feel about Billy?”

Your mother is making brownies, with you sat at the counter. She only makes them when she wants to talk or when she’s worried about you.

“He’s my best friend.”

Nicky smiles to herself over the bowl of batter. “That’s all?” she asks.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do know. I think you’re afraid to say it because of how all of your previous friendships have gone. You’re afraid,” she pauses, stirring aggressively for a moment, “that you’re going to lose your best friend again.”

Nicky looks up. “Aren’t you?”

You stare at her, and then relent, nodding.

“So how do you really feel about Billy, Y/N?”

You think for a second, tracing your index finger over the lines in the countertop.

It’s like Billy is learning you. He knows now what makes you anxious. What makes you uncomfortable. And he’s trying. Trying to be there for you and be available, which you know isn’t easy for him.

But you want to be there for him just as much as he is for you.

That’s the thing. You’re both trying.

You can tell when he’s had a bad night. He’s extra quiet before school starts, his hands never leave his pockets, or a cigarette never leaves his mouth. Sometimes it’s like he just needs you to sit there with him. Like he did with you at lunch that first day. He needs to know there’s someone on his side.

There are these times where he’s able to be himself. He calls you after you’ve leant him a book, and he’s pissed about something or other.

Why the fuck would you let me read this?

He head-bangs in the car with you, taps his hands in time with the song. Something he only ever did in the safety of his room. Maybe even sings a little before he catches himself and hope you didn’t hear. You always do.

And when he lets himself laugh it’s like you could fucking die. He’s so gorgeous it hurts.

You don’t know if you can tell her.

“Mom, I—” You cut yourself off and sink in on yourself.

She’s quiet.

“It’s okay to say it, honeybee. You’re safe to tell me, you know. And if it helps, I really don’t think he’s going to hurt you.”

You stand up, walk over to where she’s pouring the mix into a pan. She slides it into the oven, sets a timer.

Nicky waits. She knows you can do it.

“Mom.”

“Yeah?”

“Mom, I love him.”

She holds out her arms and you hug her. She smells like cinnamon and chocolate and this vanilla shampoo she’s used since forever because she swears nothing else is as good for her hair.

“I’m scared,” you tell her. “I’ve never felt like this before. But he makes me feel so safe.”

Nicky is so proud of you. Of your opening up to her and yourself. Letting yourself feel.

She pulls you back, places both of her hands on your cheeks. “It’s okay to be scared. All of these feelings can be scary. But I want you to know how important and wonderful it is that you’ve found someone who makes you feel safe and comfortable. He makes you feel that way, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s so good. You’re going to figure it out. I know you are. I’m so proud of you, honeybee.”

You nod again and again, your nose stinging with tears that you will away.

The timer goes off, its shrill ring ruining the heartfelt moment. Nicky’s laugh is sticky sweet. She lets you go, shutting the thing up with a turn of its dial.

“You gonna want frosting or no?”

“Maybe a little,” you say.

You walk to the living room, catching the start of Jeopardy! and leaving your mother in the kitchen, in her zone. It’ll take a while for the brownies to cool anyways.

You’re slumping against the couch when you hear tires screeching, the roar of an engine a little ways down the street. You know it’s Billy. The car door slams.

You think something might be wrong.

————

Billy’s hands are shaking. He watches Max go inside, but stays leaning against the Camaro, lighting a cigarette. She goes up the stairs, shoots him a look as she throws the back door open.

Max was late leaving Dustin’s place. They’ve been trying to teach her to play D&D, and she got lost in it today, the one time Will’s monsters hadn’t completely faked her out.

Billy lay on the horn three separate times before he finally went inside, telling her it was time to go. She really, really hadn’t meant to be late.

Billy didn’t say a word during the drive home. He knew it was going to be bad. He just knew it. They were forty five minutes late from the time Neil had said he wanted them back.

So now, Billy stood outside, trying to toughen up before facing what he knew was waiting for him.

He stomps his cigarette out, locks the car. He makes his way inside and gets through the dining room where he sees Neil sitting at the table, but he keeps walking. He makes it through the kitchen. He passes the living room, where Susan is reading a book, though she’s not really reading.

The electricity that runs through the house is tangible. Max sits on the edge of her bed, knee bouncing up a storm. She waits for it to start.

Billy doesn’t make it any further. Neil’s footsteps are heavy on the hardwoods as he walks down the hall.

“You’re late.”

Billy closes his eyes before turning around. He knows better than to not face his father when he’s speaking. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“What was that?” Neil’s hands are on his hips now.

Billy’s heart is pounding. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again. Max was just spending time with her friends.”

Neil ignores Billy’s explanation. “Responsibility. We’ve talked about this, again and again, isn’t that right, Billy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t care if your sister is having the best time of her life. I tell you to be home at a certain time, then that’s when you’re home. It is your responsibility to get her back here and to respect my rules, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

Billy thinks for a second that it’s over. In the other room, Max hopes it is too. She’s chewed off all her nails listening to them talk.

Neil drops his hands, drags one over his mustache and sighs. Billy starts to walk away.

“You know what, Billy? You’ve been late an awful lot lately. It’s because you’ve been hanging out with that slut from down the road isn’t it?”

Billy freezes. Usually, he just lets it go. Locks himself in his room, cries it out. Smokes it out.

But he just made this about you.

Billy turns around. “What did you just say?”

Neil stalks closer to his son, raises his voice.“You got your own whore now, huh? You’re just like your mother.”

Billy’s brow furrows, and feels like he’s burning. Max doesn’t know what to do. She’s never heard Neil say something like that before.

Billy gets just as close to Neil as he is to Billy. “Fuck you.”

Neil laughs. It’s heartless. He cocks his head. “I’m sorry?”

“I said. Fuck. You.”

Neil puffs out his chest and straightens his back. Billy knows he shouldn’t have said that. He doesn’t really care.

Neil is looking at Billy like he’s prey. And then Neil hits him. Max can hear the sound Neil’s fist makes as it cracks against her brother’s jaw. He’s got Billy by the collar and up on the wall before the boy can even struggle to move away.

“Get off me,” Billy yells.

“Who do you think you are, huh? Talking to me like that. I am your father, and you are to give me nothing but your respect.”

Billy shoves his father as hard as he can, hooks his hands under Neil’s elbows, pushing him off.

“I said, get off me.”

Billy turns and makes for the door. Max rushes to try and catch him. She knows it’s her fault. She wants to fix things.

“Billy—” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“Stay out of this. And stay here, Max.” He’s angry, but his tone softens just for a moment when he speaks to her.

Billy is outside before anyone can do anything about it. He’s got his keys, but he doesn’t trust himself to drive. He’s never fought back before. That was a completely different thing in there.

Billy walks to the other side of the road, starts on the shitty sidewalk. He feels like he can’t breathe. His entire body is shaking. He finds that stupid ass brick wall that you’d once visited him at, and he sits, holding onto it before he collapses.

His heart is beating so fast it hurts. He hasn’t had one of these in so long. He’s clutching the brick so hard he thinks he might have scrapes on his fingertips.

He starts to breathe in, and then he counts. He breathes out.

He keeps going until he doesn’t feel like he’s going to die anymore. When it’s over, he’s just as angry.

————

You’re standing in the kitchen, shoving your face with a brownie when you look up, and Billy is walking around outside. He looks upset. You don’t know if you should go out or not. You should, shouldn’t you?

Your mom left to pick up a couple movies for the both of you to watch tonight. Some of the few you didn’t have copies of.

You walk to the front door and pull it open.

“Billy?”

You’re stood on the stoop when he catches your eye. He’d been contemplating whether or not to go to you for the past ten minutes.

“Do you want to come in?”

He does. He doesn’t think he should, but he does. He walks toward you anyways.

You offer him half of your brownie. He takes it only so that he doesn’t have to talk yet.

You both stand in your entryway, silently eating your brownies before you look at him.

You swallow, wipe your hands on your pants. “Billy, your cheek is red.”

“No shit, really?” His tone that would usually be teasing isn’t. It’s just snarky. It’s almost mean.

And he regrets it immediately. You have no idea what just happened.

You raise your eyebrows at the way he just spoke to you.

He’s upset, clearly, and you think you know why, but you’re not going to push it out if he’s not ready. You’re not going to let him be a dick to you though either.

“Watch the attitude, Hargrove.”

“Or what, huh? You gonna tell me what a piece of shit I am too?”

“Billy, stop.”

He’s hurting. You can feel it.

“You gonna put everything on me? Treat me like I’m just this fucking burden? Huh, Y/N?”

“Billy, enough.” You’re dead serious. You mean it when you say that. You look him in the eye, and he stops.

“I can tell something’s wrong, but you don’t have to come over here and yell at me about it. If you want to talk, we can talk. That’s what I’m here for. Just stop, okay?”

“Fine.”

“What happened?” You ask.

Billy tells you everything. He lets it all out, and it’s like he’s showing you his hand. He’s being vulnerable and he hates it. But he knows you don’t care. You want him to be vulnerable with you.

“And you’ve never done that before?”

“No.”

“But you did tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Y/N, I just told you.”

“Say it again.”

“Because of you,” Billy starts. “Because he brought you into it and I wasn’t going to let him talk about you like that.”

“Billy. I’m not worth you getting hit over.”

“Baby, please don’t say that. Shit, why would you say that? You’re worth everything.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

You grin, and he smiles at you. He looks so pretty.

“You think it’ll bruise?”

“I hope not. Guess we’ll find out though,” he says.

You lean in, and kiss Billy’s cheek. It’s so soft that he might not even know you’d done it if he couldn’t see you.

“Come on, you’re not gonna hurt me. You can do better than that.”

“Greedy.”

“‘S your fault,” he argues.

You kiss him on the forehead a little more firmly. Then on his nose.

You pause, running a finger over said nose until he wrinkles it at you. “I love your nose.” He just watches you. You’ve practically got sparkles in your eyes. You graze your thumb over his freckles.

“Anything else you love?”

He’s giving you an opening. You decide to take it. What’s the point in keeping it from him?

“You.”

He wasn’t expecting you to have taken it.

“What?”

“You asked if there was anything else I loved. I said you.” Your voice is soft. Kind.

“Y/N.”

“Billy.”

“You love me?” he asks, unsure.

“I do. Told my mom about it and everything.”

His head falls against your shoulder.

“Wanna know something?” he mumbles against you before raising his head again.

“‘Course I do.”

“I love you too. Told Max about it and everything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, baby,” Billy says. “I love you.”

You take his face in your hands, looking at him, taking him in. Your eyes linger on his lips before moving up to lock with his, blue orbs burning into your soul.

“Yes or no?” you ask.

“Yes.”

You press your lips against his, softly at first, but then a little harder when you find your rhythm. Billy smiles into it, and when you pull away, he’s quick to kiss you again and again.

————

Nicky gets home and unlocks the door, pushing it open.

“Honeybee, I’m home. Wanna come look at these?”

You look at Billy where he lays on your chest. He groans. “Okay, let me get up, Billy. I’ll be right back.”

He sits up, but he’s not happy about it. He has quite literally never looked grumpier.

You make your way down the hall where you heard your mother wander off. “Mom?” you ask.

“In here.” She’s taking her shoes off.

“Billy’s here,” you blurt out. “He had a bad day and came over, and then we started talked and I told him.” You stop, realizing that was one long ramble and she’d just gotten home.

She kicks off her shoes and stands, smiling brilliantly at you.

“You told him what, exactly?” She wants to hear you say it.

You roll your eyes. “That I love him.”

She claps her hands, rings clinking together. She kisses your forehead, and it makes an audible mwah sound.

“I’m so happy for you, honeybee.” Her expression changes quickly, though, a look of concern crossing her face. “He said it back, right? He loves you too?”

You nod, and she visibly calms down. “Yeah. He loves me too.”

“Good. Shit, that’s so reassuring. I’m gonna change. Is he staying for movies?”

You grin, happy she’s happy. “I’ll go ask.”

You venture back to the living room, where Billy sits on the couch, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll be right back my ass,” he says, looking up at you with a pout on his face.

You sit down beside him, grab his arms and pull them apart. “Sorry, sorry.” You rub the callouses on the palms of his hands with your thumbs. “You wanna stay for movies?”

Billy thinks for a second. He doesn’t want to go home. “Is that okay?”

“Duh.”

“You’re such a little shit.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Case in point,” he says.

You go to roll your eyes and he stops you. “Don’t even think about it.” You roll them anyways.

He almost makes some other quip, but a thought crosses his mind. Max. He doesn’t want to leave her in that house all night with his father. He’s always scared maybe if he’s not there she’ll be next. It’s almost been Susan before.

“Do you think Max could join us?”

“Sure she could.” You don’t even think about it, and Billy’s insides turn to mush.

So he calls her, and when she picks up, the first thing she does is ask where Billy is. He tells her. Max says Neil left with Susan. Didn’t say where they were going.

“Would you want to come over to Y/N’s and watch a movie? Or I can just take you to El’s or Lucas’s,” he says to her.

Maybe it sounds stupid, Max thinks, but she wants to spend time with Billy. You’ve been good for him. And clearly he’s in love with you and shit.

So Billy ends up walking down the street to get Max, who he then walks right back down to your house.

“I told her,” he says.

“That you’re stupidly in love with her?” she inquires.

“Watch it.” Max raises her hands in mock surrender. “But yeah.”

Max smiles at him. “Stop that,” he says.

————

“You like brownies, Max?” Nicky asks her.

“I do.”

“Good thing I have some then, huh? Here.” She hands her an enormous chunk of brownie, frosting sloppily slathered over the top of it. Max looks giddy at the sight of it in her hands.

The four of you sit in the living room, and your mother turns on Footloose. Billy promises not to complain. Max doesn’t buy it.

Nicky sets up shop in her oversized chair, while you sit in between Max and Billy on the couch. You lean over, lowering your voice to speak to the redhead. She leans towards you in response.

“What are your thoughts on Kevin Bacon?”

“He’s cute. Looks good in those jeans.”

You hold up your hand for a high five, which she gives you. “I’m glad we agree.”

Billy looks over at you, feigning betrayal. You shrug your shoulders, and he snatches the rest of your brownie from you. You gasp and go to pinch his thigh, but he takes your hand, holding it to his chest. He settles further into the couch, throwing his leg over yours.

Max would probably fake gag or something, but Kevin Bacon is much too entertaining.

Nicky, on the other hand, looks at you and Billy fondly. You look content. That’s all she’s ever wanted for you. That and someone willing to watch Footloose with you.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove x female reader #billy stranger things fic #billy stranger things #max mayfield #billy hargrove comfort #savannah’s fics

963 notes · View notes

floatyflowers · 2 years

Text

The Adopted Princess| Dark! Targaryen and Velaryon Boys x Reader (Aegon II, Aemond, Jacaerys, Lucerys) Part III

(Don't own the gif)

Part II

You look one last time at your chamber, which was filled with many memories in here, memories that gave you nostalgia.

The memories of your adoptive mother braiding your hair or giving you your first dragon egg which still hasn't hitched up till today.

And you are sure that it would never hitch because you are not a Targaryen, but you are keeping the egg around for the little hope that it might hitch.

"Her highness, your mother, is waiting for you so you all could leave together, my princess"

One of the servants enters your chamber to inform you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"I will be on my way, you could leave now, thank you" the servant bows in respect before taking his leave.

You walk out of your chamber, but the sight of Aemond walking towards you, holding something, stops you in your tracks.

"What is the matter, Aemond?" you inquire, surprised to see him.

"I came to say my farewells, and give you this to remember me by it"

The young Targaryen prince shows you the necklace with the red crystal in the middle.

"Aemond...it is beautiful" you take the necklace from him, looking down at it with admiration.

The said boy blushes at your acceptance of his gift, liking the way you smile.

"Can I also request something of you?" you look at him with your red eyes, nodding your head as a sign for him to go on.

"Can we exchange letters through ravens?"

"Of course, I would keep that in my mind," you say cheerfully.

Yes, you find it strange that Aemond just gave you such a precious gift, and also requested to write letters to each other.

But, he is way better than his older brother, who didn't even bother to apologize for his inappropriate behavior.

"Thank you for the gift, I will wear it every day, Aemond," you say, before leaning close and kissing him on the cheek.

With that, you walk away, leaving behind a flustered Aemond whose whole body feels warm from embarrassment.

You kissed him on the cheek.

That means you love him the same way he loves you, right?

꧁𑁍꧂

You stare down at your dragon egg eagerly, after noticing the big cracks all over the egg.

After you arrived in Dragonstone with your family, strange things been happening with your dragon egg, like how it would shake roughly.

To be honest, you thought it was impossible because you believed the myth that implies that the egg only hitches if you are a true Targaryen.

However, it seems like it was just a myth after all.

When the egg finally hatched, you let out a happy gasp after your baby dragon breaks through the shell.

It was a light blue colored dragon, matching the color of his shell.

His wings are long, just for a baby dragon.

"Mother, Father!"

You shout out loud, as you rush out of your new chamber while being careful not to startle the small creature, that is laying comfortably on your hand.

"What is the matter?"

Rhaenyra inquires as she stands with her husband, Laenor, discussing some matters.

Their eyes grow big in shock upon seeing what you are holding.

"It finally hitched" Laenor chuckles, happy for you.

Rhaenyra walks over to you, and looks down at your dragon, examining it, only to discover that it is a male, before looking up at you with a proud smile.

"What are you going to name him?"

"Quicksilver, just like King Aenys' dragon name"

Many belittle Aenys Targaryen, but you admire the man for his kindness and justice unlike his brother, Maegor the cruel.

Suddenly, the guards announce the arrival of one of the messengers from Driftmark.

Announcing the death of Laena Valeryion.

She committed suicide after failing to give birth.

You watch as your adoptive father breaks down while your mother comforts him.

Hearing those news made you realize that you might meet the same fate.

You have always feared childbirth.

Nevertheless, you don't know that four future admirers would do anything to make you have their children.

Especially Aegon II who loves to fetishize about it while standing on the edge of the widow.

Part IV

Taglist:

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@sandronebabyy

@cullenswife

#tw: toxic relationships #house of the dragon #dark #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader

2K notes · View notes

kaimxri · 1 year

Text

Means To An End

Lucien x Reader (she/her)

Part II Part III Warnings: ooc Azriel Wordcount: 3K A/N: I'm thinking of writing a part two to this depending on the reaction this gets:)

Azriel had been clear on the rules of our ‘relations’. We are not dating; we do not stay the night and we certainly do not discuss our feelings. Although, he has never been discreet about his own emotions. I almost believed my name to be ‘Elain’ with the number of times he moaned out for her during our nights spent together. I tried to bring it up one night, but his sharp glare cut me off before I could finish my questioning remark. I was simply just a body to warm his bed. Not someone with feelings. Of which I had gained for the spymaster.

Azriel would rather spend his time pining for a female who was clearly stringing him along than to look at me. The girl who had clawed her own heart out to make space for him.

When Azriel wasn’t inside me, he was avoiding me. Acting as though my very presence did not exist. Instead, his days were spent pandering to Elain’s every need. She called; he came. They spent time together tending to her garden. He would bring back seeds from distant courts. Even going as far as to breach Spring Court borders to retrieve flower seeds that he said would grow to compliment her eyes.

Her garden bloomed as did his love for her. They were a perfect contradiction, a perfect match. She balanced him out whilst he made her stronger. If it weren’t for Lucien, I am sure the pair would have bonded in some way. But alas the red-haired male stood in his way. At least he held some respect for her intended.

Though I am certain he curses the cauldron for giving what he believes to be his to Lucien.

When the night comes and she eventually brushes off his advances, he would crawl into my bed and pretend as though she felt for him as he did for her. Whilst I would pretend he felt the same for me.

Of course, I never said anything about our situation. If he knew of my feelings for him, he would end our arrangement before I could explain. Or if he already knew he never said anything. Perhaps that made him a bastard. To keep taking advantage of me when he knew I would hurt myself only to pleasure him. And perhaps that made me a fool. But I was in love. I knew his cold exterior was simply a front to keep others from prying too deep, but I couldn’t help but wonder what delights lay under his stone surface.

The little cracks he lets shine through during moments of unbridled joy bring me great happiness. The grins he lets slip when training with Cassian, the sleepy glaze over his eyes during his evening reading or even his little skip he does whilst running down the stairs on good mornings. He truly is the most beautiful male I have seen. And he does not see me.

The inner circle had noticed a developing distance between the spymaster and I but had not commented on it. Perhaps they didn’t know how deep our roots ran, how we spent our evenings only to act as if the other simply never existed. Or maybe they did know of the things we did behind closed doors. If they did, they probably felt some semblance of pity for me as they knew of Azriel’s affections towards Elain. But I didn’t want nor need their pity. I knew where I stood with Azriel, even though I wished I could be held a bit closer to his heart. Whilst the others are embraced in the warmth that is Azriel, I stay planted outside the stone walls of his being.

During the fourth month of this torture I found myself out in the garden in the dark of the night. Memories of that morning had bullied their way into my mind, leaving me restless and heartbroken. Mor had organised an evening out to Rita’s to celebrate having mentally survived our recent trip to Hewn City. I had spent all day preparing myself. Doing my makeup to perfection, braiding my hair in the way Azriel had complimented when we had first met. My dress was everything. The same sapphire blue as that of his siphons, shimmering in the light. The fabric flattered my body making me feel worthy.

I was practically skipping down the stairs of the town house, whistles from Cassian and Nesta reaching my ears making my grin widen more than I thought possible. Once I had reached the hallway, I had given a small twirl. Nesta showered me in compliments whilst Cassian touched the braids in my hair. My giggles died down and my heart skipped when my gaze landed on Azriel. His black shirt and dress pants hugged his frame, showing off the hard work he put into maintaining his body. As my eyes flew across the expansive pains of chest towards his godly face, my heart fell into my stomach. For Azriel had never even looked at me.

I had felt like a gem, until the second eldest Archeron sister appeared.

She glided down the stairs with the elegance of a doe. Everyone’s attention had fallen to her in her baby pink gown that hugged her slight frame. The colour of the dress amplifying the ruby flush crawling up her cheeks. Adoring word after word poured from Azriel’s mouth. Like a cascading waterfall of love, he was hoping for her to swim in the depths of it. Make her feel surrounded by his love and only his love. However, the presence of her yet-to-be mate hovering at her side dragged her from the waters of affection. Leaving her cold and unsure.

Oh, to be her. To have two males waiting for her to simply give a glance in their direction. If only she would choose already to spare them the inevitable heartbreak. Or maybe she would never choose. Simply keeping them both to herself. With tight enough leashes to have them wanting more but never being able to leave when her affections stray too far in the opposite direction. Not being able to take anymore, I winnowed to Rita’s. A half-baked excuse of wanting to get an early start on my night of drinking gaining attention from everyone but the man who unknowingly holds my heart in his hands.

The night droned on, the drinks blurred together. I barely remember dancing with an unknown fae male before a scarred hand is reaching for me in the crowd. Shadow enveloped me as lips fell upon my own. Barely registering the faraway look in Azriel’s eyes, as we fell into my sheets.

Before I knew it, it was over. Azriel had finished and left without a word. The last thing he had said was her name as he reached his peak. I was left in my wet sheets, holding a blanket to my chest. The interaction had sobered me. Moving around my room, blindly picking up my discarded clothing and re-dressing myself. I emerged from my bedroom and ended up on a stone bench of the garden in which Azriel had nursed his love for Elain.

“Why am I doing this?” I had thought out loud. Perhaps I had thought the Gods would answer me, give me advice on how to banish the male from my heart and my head. To give me an antidote to the heartbreak that is unrequited love.

“Why are you doing what?” The Gods had heard my indirect plea. I registered the voice as that of Lucien, Elain’s supposed mate. At least he would know what it feels like to love someone and not have them love you back.

“Funny you should ask Lucien; I don’t believe you of all people would have the answer.”

“Should that offend me? May I ask why I ‘of all people’ wouldn’t know the answer?” He sat next to me on the bench, shoulder to shoulder. I could smell the fae wine on him, but it was clear he was not drunk. Perhaps Elain had brushed him off too and he had left Rita’s early.

“Why do I love someone who does not love me back?” Silence followed. I did not expect him to answer for it was a difficult question. Even outside of a mating bond that has yet to be accepted. Many fae, even mortals, knew nothing of love. How one person can be so completely in love with another that sees them as nothing the same. It’s one of life’s great mysteries. I had felt slightly bad for asking Lucien that question as I knew my situation was nothing like his. At least I had a possible mate in the future for when Azriel inevitably rejects me. His mate however seems to be toying with the bond, leaving him in a grey area of hope and despair. We sat in the silence together for a while, staring at the stars hoping they would give an answer to our woes.

“Hope.” Was all he had said. The word lingered in the silence a while more until he stood and left me with nothing but a kiss on the forehead. I had stayed out not much longer than that. Making the decision to step back from Azriel. He had become a drug and I was addicted.

That night as I slept, I dreamt of my life free of Azriel. Perhaps I would find my mate. I would love him, and he would hopefully love me. We would be married and live our lives together. Maybe we would have a few children and we would get to see them grow into beautiful, intelligent adults. And I would never have to think about Azriel again.

Waking up that next morning I was filled with hope. Spending my day reading by the hearth. Romance novels, of course. Until Azriel walked in through the front door. His face was stoic, and he simply nodded his head towards the stairs. My resolve crumbled, and we ended up in my sheets yet again. I sobbed that night. For me, for my future. Would I ever be over Azriel? Could I truly ever move on? I came to the realisation that night that I could never move on from him if I saw him as often as I already did. I proved to myself today that I wasn’t strong enough to deny him the pleasure he seeks. Realisation washed over me; I need to get away.

It didn’t take me long to decide where I was going to go. The Day Court had always welcomed myself and my friends, Helion being a true friend at times. The court had also been my favourite place to be (besides Velaris) and felt like a second home. The warmth of Day would distract me from the now cold shadows that linger in the night, haunting my heart.

My bags were packed by the afternoon, but I wanted to wait until the next morning to leave. I was not brave enough to tell the others I was leaving so instead I was leaving a simple note. Not mentioning my deep feelings for Azriel, only a brief explanation that I was feeling overwhelmed and needed to deal with my emotions alone. That I needed space from them all and that I may not be returning. Leaving them all behind was going to be devastating but I needed to do this before I destroyed myself.

Midway through writing the note I was interrupted by a knocking at the door. Panicked that it was Azriel coming over to yet again take out his frustrations on me, I threw the papers to the side. Forgetting about my suitcases that remain leaned against my desk, ready for me to grab and leave when the morning comes.

“Come in” My voice was strained from hours of not using it. Cursing myself for sounding weak. As the door creaked open, it was not Azriel on the other side but Lucien. I silently thanked the Gods that it was not the male who was ruining me coming to seek me out.

“I had hoped to catch you before you went down for dinner. I wish to discuss our conversation from the night before last.” His posture was hunched, and his hands were wrung together. My concern for my friend grew and I ushered him inside and to my bed. We sat together for a while as I waited for him to unleash the thoughts swimming around his head.

“I too ask myself the same question you do. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I hurt myself wanting Elain when all she does is push me away?” My heart broke alongside his. He had leant his elbows against his knees and dropped his head. He looked so small. Lucien had never looked small before. Even when Elain started to initially show feelings towards Azriel, he always held strong. I had always admire him for his strength in the face of true pain.

“Well, it’s like you said Luc. Hope.” He scoffs.

“Do not make me laugh Y/N. We all know that if it weren’t for the bond, she would have rejected me and accepted the shadow singers advances by now. I am simply here because she pities me and does not wish to hurt me by rejecting the bond. I just wish she would get it over with so I can stop clinging onto this so-called hope.” His words had cut through me. As much as I had hated to admit it, he was right. If the bond had not happened Elain would be with Azriel by now. I would be free of him. None of this would ever have happened. When my eyes fall upon my friend again, I feel tears forming in my eyes. He had been through so much and out of all of my friends I believed he was the one who deserved true love the most. He does not deserve to be dragged along by this bond and a hopeless female.

“Well, why don’t you reject the bond?” His head shot up. Almost in shock that I had the audacity to suggest he destroy his one chance of having a soul twined mate.

“Are you insane, Y/N? Why would I do such a thing.”

“Well, it’s like you said. She does not want to hurt you by rejecting the bond. So, why don’t you do it? At least it would be on your terms as your idea and your choice to do so. To hell with her I say. She has strung yourself and Azriel along for a long time now and it is unfair to the both of you.” Lucien rolls his eyes at the mention of Azriel, almost as if simply just his name is enough to cause irritation to surge through his body.

“Are you saying this because you believe I should do this for myself, or because it would help out the shadow singer? I am not stupid Y/N I know of your affections for him.” His accusations make me almost enraged. If he wasn’t a heartbroken male on the verge of possibly having a rejected mating bond, I would have let loose and let him know exactly what I thought. Of how ridiculous that accusation is. Why would I want to push the man I love into the arms of another? Why would I want to remove the one blockade keeping him away from the one his heart desires? I do not want to do that.

“I am suggesting that for you, Lucien. You are my friend, and it pains me to see you go through this every day. Yes, I have love for Azriel, but does it not occur to you that this would be pushing him to Elain rather than to me? Do you think that is what I want? No. But I want to see you happy. You deserve it more than anyone I know and seeing you like this… Well, honestly my friend it is disheartening to say the least.”

We sit in another silence, as expected. Rejecting a bond is a big thing. Not a choice that you can come back from. If he were to do this, he would never have a chance with Elain again. Especially not with Azriel sitting and waiting for her to turn to him and tell him all he’s been waiting to hear. On the other hand, if he did this it would give him an opportunity to find a love of his own. One that has not been chosen for him by fate itself.

“If-if I did this. If I rejected the bond, what would I do then? I would have nowhere to go. I left Spring Court to be here with Elain. I’m not sure I’ll be welcomed back there. I’m only in Night Court for Elain and once the bond is rejected, I will not be welcome here either. Especially if I reject the bond. Could you imagine? She’s so frail still, I would be chased out of here and banished before I can even say the word ‘reject’.”

“Lucien… Just come with me. I am leaving tomorrow to go to the Day Court. I cannot be here anymore wallowing in these feelings as all I am doing is hurting myself day in and day out. We can leave and start fresh. Forget about the both of them. I know this is extreme, but gods I cannot do this anymore. ” His eyes lock with mine once more, moving back and forth almost as if he is trying to read me. I notice his gaze falling behind my shoulder to my packed bags leaning against my desk.

“Gods, I am so sorry Y/N. I’m such a selfish male I did not even notice those. You are truly leaving? Why did you not say anything?”

“Because I only decided to leave today. I am tired of being means to forget. I leave tomorrow morning, you are welcome to come with me.” He thinks for a few minutes, before slowly nodding his head at me.

“Okay. I will join you, Y/N. I will reject the bond and we will leave. Together.”

#acotar #acotar x reader #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #lucien acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #lucien fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar angst #vanserra

639 notes · View notes

writingcold · 8 months

Text

Hi there. Welcome to Chapter 16. We’ve had some fluffy healing. It’s time to start buckling up. We have a few chapters left of Act II, and Act III is… fast.

If you are just joining us, you can find the Master List to the series here

A very huge hug and thank you goes out to @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake. You’ve heard me gush about them all the way through, and there’s still more to go. Yeah. Pretty amazing humans there.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine. Please do not take it for your own personal use. I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story. But it is mine.

Content warning: Again, just saying this is an 18+ story for a reason. This has elements of violence, so please be ready. There is harm to women, there is harm to two major characters.

Word count: approx. 6000

Chapter Sixteen: Dark Horizons - Cora

Late Autumn storms shedding rain and snow had descended on Kingsford. The last week of October was encroaching. She felt like she blinked and six months had culminated in so much life that she scarcely believed it ever happened. To be away from the farm and to be free of Kilbourne was a feat unto itself. But to have the love of Jacob was unbelievable. To have found an equal footing and beginning of a friendship with Joshua made her smile. This family had welcomed her without hesitation, without warrant, supporting her, sheltering her and her own. Jacob wanted a family - with her. The notion filled her with something she had very little of six months prior: hope.

“Morning, Joshua!” she called as she walked through the back door, tucking her key into her bag.

“Morning, lovely,” he called back, his nose already buried in work.

“Going to have lunch with Jacob today,” she said as she started pulling out her first tasks. “Are you going to come along?”

He appeared in her doorway. “Actually, I have lunch planned with the Reading brothers.”

They laughed. The Reading brothers owned the feedlot that Josh had offered to purchase several times. It had become a running joke that the brothers so enjoyed Josh’s free lunches only to turn him down when it came time for him to pitch his deal. Josh would shrug it off and continue laying in wait for the time that he would offer half of his original purchase offer and they would have to take it as they had no one else interested in their fading business.

Cora settled in at her desk. Josh had asked her to start looking into the balances of the bank in prior years, essentially making sure that the business of the bank itself was sound. She had been reading line by line entries in the bank’s records, noting anything that looked odd or did not line up with accounts. Though she had come across a few errors, she had yet to truly find anything that would be considered riveting.

Sitting up and looking away to refocus her eyes, Cora felt a shiver. The bank was awfully silent for the hour at hand. There seemed to be no customers in the lobby at all - a true rarity. Closing her eyes to rest them just for a few moments, she felt her brain readjust. Standing, she went to the bookcase by the door to retrieve the next ledger. The scent of tobacco struck her nose and a grin tugged at her mouth, thinking perhaps Jacob had arrived early. As she turned back to the desk, another scent struck, it was dark and mildewy. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a chill touched her cheeks. Pain flared at the back of her head as a hand grasped hold of her braided bun, yanking her frame backwards. A surprised yelp was cut short as another hand wrapped around her throat, crushing the air from her. “Where’s my wife, bitch,” Harold Archer's voice filled her ears.

Her body slammed against him but he slapped the side of her head. Her ear exploded in a fit of ringing while stars cast across her right eye. He yanked her backwards once more, dragging her from her office into the short hall.

“Are you really this stupid?” Josh’s voice came from behind.

Archer spun them around, his free hand moving out to steady them. She gurgled for air, her body flinching with shock.

“Think it through, Harold,” Josh said calmly. “This cannot end well for any of us if-”

Cora felt something sharp run across her forearm like a thousand bees were being dragged by their wings, followed by pain that forced a whimper from the bottom of her gut. Josh’s face grew hard. His dark amber eyes went flat with rage. Cora gritted her teeth as the sharp point was pushed into her ribs as she started to be dragged away from Josh, Archer’s hold on her tightened as he laughed over the situation.

“Come on, little man. Come on out here so that we have more room to play,” Archer taunted.

“Fine, Harold,” Josh replied, his voice kept low and calm.

Cora’s insides twisted and jostled as panic began to pool in her feet. She could feel her arm bleeding, the shock of injury making it feel hot and itchy. Once to the main area of the bank, her eyes went right to the tellers. Both ladies were behind the locked counter, their faces wild with fear, but both seemed unharmed. The windows were all covered. Cora’s breath began to stutter as her own fear began to stab and twist in her, much like the knife that was digging in her side.

“Cora,” Josh called out, trying to get her attention. “Cora, listen. Don’t fight. Hear me?”

Archer laughed. “Oh, I think she’s gonna want to fight. If she knew what I wanted to do to her, she'd want to fight. She owes me a wife, I can just take it from her.”

Her body quivered. This was Junie’s daily experience. This man who presented such respectability was a monster. Involuntarily, she strained, only to have him dig the blade deeper.

“Cora,” Josh soothed, despite his eyes widening with emotions. “Please…”

“On your knees, Kiszka,” Archer seethed.

She watched as Josh complied, sinking to his knees, hands out before him. Her heart raced, but she stayed as still as she possibly could as the hand slid away from her neck, down her chest, grabbing a breast in a painful clutch. She did not give him the satisfaction of a reaction, keeping her eyes directly on Joshua. For a moment, there was comfort. Whatever Archer planned, Josh would ensure they survived together. She ignored the shredding of her pretty blue dress - the one that Molly had given her and had insisted she wear it on the last day of shop trial, and wear it for Jake. She ignored the man’s hand as he attempted to humiliate her before Joshua. However, the sight of Josh’s face flashing panic as he lunged forward cued icy fear to flood her brain. Archer kicked him, landing a solid blow to his face. The clerks screamed.

“You should’ve been mine,” Archer oozed. “That twin of his has been fattening you up, hasn’t he? You’re not all skinny like your sister. Has he put his cock in you yet? Shown you what a man is?”

“Harold!” Josh said sharply, rising up again.

Archer kicked him again, this time in the ribs. Before she could move, Cora felt something sharp stab into her right buttock. She hissed over the stark sting. Archer laughed before planting a wet kiss against her cheek. His body shifted against her as he reached into his pocket. The knife dug against her side causing her to gasp. Archer slammed his hand against her mouth and nose. Cora choked as powder invaded her, chalky and bitter.

“Yeah, I think I’ll enjoy taking that,” he said crudely.

“Please, no,” she whispered, tears hitting her cheeks as Josh struggled forward once more, blood smeared across his face.

“Cora?” he asked, his eyes full of fright. Each letter seemed suddenly drawn out, like she was watching him speak in symbols. “Cora? Lovely, stay with me. Keep your eyes…”

Pain exploded against her side as she was shoved down. She brought her hand up, unable to understand the fluid that was so sticky that covered her hand and arm. The world started to dim, as if colors were beginning to not exist. Her head felt heavy and her neck could no longer hold the weight. She shivered. Her whole body felt cold and hot in intermittent waves as she struggled forward. She knew Joshua was calling out to her, but the words made her eyes want to flutter. She needed Jacob. Her Jacob. She needed his warmth and gentleness. Each time her eyes drifted closed only to open again, leaving her more confused if it was real or dream. Nightmare or hell.

Chapter Sixteen: Pt. 2, Jacob

The sky was heavy with clouds that would eventually spill snow as he walked towards the bank. He had set up Mr. Thornaby in the Tiger. He had dropped in on Sam as he continued to make adjustments to the Moon now that he could take the time to really study and experiment on the rig. When he arrived at the Northern Trust door, he was startled to find it locked. The curtain on the main window was drawn obscuring anything that may have been going on. His gut twisted. His breath steadied as he listened to anything that may be happening on the other side of the door. The quiet made his mind sizzle with panic.

“You’re one of them Kiszka brothers,” a voice called out. “I’ve been waiting to get in there.”

Jacob looked up at the man that was walking towards him. “Oh, so sorry. I’ll get right on that, sir. It’ll only be a few more minutes.”

Turning, he walked across to the post office, all the while trying to make his face look calm. The clerk behind the counter looked up as he entered.

“I’m sorry to be a bother,” he said, forcing his voice to sound friendly. “I’m -”

“What can I help with, Mr. Kiszka?” the gentleman asked.

“I need to borrow your telephone,” he said, looking back out the window across the street. “I fear I have forgotten the key for the bank and it was my morning to open the doors…”

“Oh, of course. Here, step this way,” the clerk said with a wave of his hand.

He waited until the man moved out of earshot to call the garage phone. Sam picked up, his tone annoyed.

“Get heavy back up and meet me at the center with keys,” he said firmly before hanging up.

He flashed his biggest smile. “Thank goodness for baby brothers, right?”

He paused to glance out the window once more. The thought that it was Archer in that bank with Cora and Josh prickled just underneath his skin. There was no telling how long the man had been inside and what damage he had already been entailed. He dug in his breast pocket for his cigarette holder as he crossed the street. By the time he was rounding the back of the building in the alley, he had one out and lit. He paused at the windows, listening for whatever was going on, only to be met with silence. The minutes felt like days as he waited for Sam and Marcus and anyone else his brother would be able to rouse.

Two smokes lay crushed to the pavement beneath his feet. Jake’s panic was beginning to choke his throat. A muffled scream from inside chilled his heart. His brain could not identify if it was Cora or someone else in the bank. Was it one of the clerks? Was it Cora? His brain registered the tone as feminine sending his blood to raging. His thoughts raced faster than his body could keep up with them. Just as he was about to say the hell with it and break the door down, Marcus jumped down from the running boards of the Kissel as Sam parked.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asked, holding out the keys.

“Everything’s locked up, windows are covered,” Jake said, moving towards the doorknob. “It’s gotta be Archer. I can’t hear anything, and it’s been too long to be a fucking bank job.”

Marcus stopped him, his face hard. “You two stay behind me. Jake, no matter what you see, do not feed into him.”

The vein in his forehead began to throb. Marcus had been the darkness of an enforcer for so long for the Diamante family that nothing surprised the man. Jake nodded, turning the key in the knob as slow as possible to not make sound. They moved through the short hall into the rear offices of the bank. Jake noticed that Cora’s door was open and the room empty. Josh’s door was closed, but it was easy to figure out that he was not in his office as Jacob heard his brother’s voice sharp and cold in the main lobby of the bank. The words were followed by a hard slap and grunt. Marcus had his pistol out. The man’s grizzled face was hard with the duty at hand.

He crouched his frame down and nearly crawled to the edge. Jake and Sam followed suit.

“Don’t know what the fuck you think you’re going to get out of this Harold,” Josh muttered, his voice thick. “No one will trust you after this. No one will allow a sick assed bastard who likes to hurt little girls to be a part of their community, let alone the head of their largest bank in town.”

Jake felt Sam flinch as Josh was struck. He couldn’t see anything around Marcus. Mentally, he tried to picture anyone who would be in the space aside from Josh and Archer and Cora. There would be two clerks. Or, would there only be one… His brain fuzzed over as he heard Archer hit something, but no sound followed except for Josh growling and spitting venom. Marcus looked back at him hard.

“Jacob, no matter what, do not come around this corner until I say. Do you understand?” the elder said, his voice thin with anger.

“What the fuck did he do-”

The man’s eyes held death. This was the enforcer that Sastrato Torello had sent to them for protection of his daughter for a reason. Jake felt himself melt into the wall behind him. Sam held onto his shoulder as Marcus snuck out into the main space. Archer was absolutely rambling in his fury. He anticipated a gunshot, but instead was surprised by the sickening crunch of bone, followed by screaming. Screaming of the women behind the counter bounced off the walls. Screaming of a man in pain pierced the ears. There were wet thuds that made his stomach turn.

“Marcus,” Josh’s slurred voice called out as another hit landed. “Marcus stop…”

“Fuck it, Sam,” Jacob hissed standing up.

“Marcus!” Josh called again, his voice a little stronger.

Jake stepped out into the open with Sam right behind him. The narrow room froze as his heart pounded like it was lurching from his chest and back. Sam rushed forward as Josh was trying to reach out to Marcus. The youngest grabbed hold of the enforcer’s arm to capture his attention, nearly incurring the man’s wrath. Archer was gasping for air beneath him. Josh was holding onto his ribs, cheek pressed to the wood floor. Wild-eyed, he searched for Cora. Following his twin’s gaze, he discovered she was hunched over between the wall and counter. Her eyes were closed and her head was slumped against the brick of the wall. No air reached his lungs. His jaw grew slack.

“Jacob,” Josh groaned as Sam dragged him up to sit upright. “I don’t know what he doped her up with, but I wouldn’t let him touch her, Jake. I took it.”

He looked at her, realizing that her dress was in pieces on the floor. Shrugging out of his coat he started to move quickly towards her, but her head snapped up, panic in her face. There was no recognition in those blue eyes he so loved.

“Sam, go get Sheriff Moore,” Josh was saying behind him.

“Finch,” Jacob whispered, holding his hand out to her. He wanted to weep as she tried to claw herself away from him. “Baby, it’s me.”

He tried to hush and soothe. All the while, he wanted to turn and rip the skin from the sick fuck that lay in a bloody mass behind him. The fury that bubbled in his stomach made him want to vomit. Cora’s body folded once more and took advantage of her weakness, covering her body with his coat and wrapping his arms around her. He repeated his love over and over as he smoothed her hair.

Gentle hands came down on his shoulder. He moved slowly so as not to startle Cora. Mrs. Cooper and Miss Klass were behind him, their weary faces full of concern. He was about to turn back, but Mrs. Cooper held out Cora’s long, lined coat.

“This might work better, Mr. Jacob,” she said. “Can we help? Maybe get her to a chair. Marit, go get her chair from the office.”

The younger lady moved away without a word. Jacob slid himself backward, while trying to keep his hands soft on her. The emotion choked him at the sight of the blood on her hand, arm, and on her side that seemed to be from a deep slice. His breath rushed from him as her eyes flared but her mouth remained mute.

“Steady, Mr. Jacob,” Mrs. Cooper whispered, as she moved to his side, her hand wrapping around Cora’s other shoulder.

Together, they got her from the small space. Cora started shrieking, clawing at the air, her blows landing on Jacob’s back in hard thunks. Mrs. Cooper tried to catch the flailing arms, but could only catch one before the other broke free. Marcus moved around to come behind them, clutching Cora around the middle.

“Jacob, sit down,” he directed. “You’ll have to hold her. Move that chair over, close to the wall. She needs a small space.”

Jake sat down, uncertainty pounding through his body as Marcus lowered his girl into his lap. He held on as tightly as she would allow. He caught Josh’s gaze. He could not hide the heaving emotions that pushed at him. The fear that pulsed in his brain, to the love that quivered in his chest, all of it lay bare for everyone to see as Cora writhed against him, her whimpers piercing him like blades. Marcus draped her coat over them, effectively covering her, and tucking it around her frame for modesty.

“Miss Klass, go fetch Doctor Boone. Tell him it’s an emergency,” Mrs. Cooper ordered, her voice firm, despite the tremble of fear that still resided in the moment.

“Marcus,” Josh said, his voice thin. “You need to get out of here. Sheriff Moore can’t see you.”

The enforcer’s eyes closed for a few beats of breath. Jake watched as the man was struggling.

“You take care of her, Jake,” he said quietly, the hardness evaporating from his face, replaced by concern.

“I will,” he whispered. “Tell Rosemary for me. Tell her mama that I will care for her.”

He watched as Marcus moved quickly out the back door. Cora’s cries softened. Her body shook under his touch. His eyes landed on the fabric of her dress, the swirls of color on silk that lay hidden just beneath the chiffon. The tip of his tongue pressed against his upper lip as if trying to hold back the anger, the fear that was merely the front for the guilt that loitered along the fringes of his thoughts.

He vaguely recognized that Sheriff Moore had entered with Sam, a few deputies were with them. Martin quickly posted the extra men around the front to control the crowd that had gathered. At the sight of Archer, the man needed little explanation of events. Josh was fading fast. Jake kept whispering against the soft perfume of Cora’s hair, trying to will her back to him through the drug haze that the monster had unleashed on her.

Doc arrived. One look at Cora and he was dismayed. There was no telling what Archer had shot her with. The hypodermic needle that he utilized would be helpful, but only if they had some notion of what was in it prior to injection. The doctor identified the wounds as being knife stabs and slashes that needed stitches. The puncture on her ribs was going to need attention. Josh was in rough shape. He had broken ribs, the left arm was dislocated at the shoulder, a few fingers were snapped. Archer had yet to rouse from the beating that Marcus had unleashed. Jake silently thanked the man for each shattered bone, each break of the skin, each bruise. The remorse that he was not in the building pounded only as bright as the shame he felt for wanting to have been the one to dole out the terror that had been unleashed by Marcus.

Josh’s sharp yelp brought him out of his thoughts. Doc had popped the arm back into the socket. He watched as his twin slumped to the floor, eyes closed, nearly mirroring the unchecked mass that Martin stood over. Boone wanted all three to the hospital, just to have a quieter stage to clean everyone up. Jake had not realized the noise outside the bank. A crowd had gathered, some panicked about not being able to get inside the bank, others loudly yelling about a bank robbery. Martin had the deputies load up Josh and help Jake get Cora into the Kissel. Sam drove across town, leaving the sheriff and his men to figure out what to do with the now destroyed Harold Archer.

Chapter Sixteen: Pt. 3, Cora POV

She could feel sunshine - cold - but sunshine on the skin on her face. Her mouth felt like sand had been poured inside until she could hold no more. She barely moved and her body erupted in hot, throbbing pain. Cora instantly froze, keeping her eyes closed. She drifted into the silence. Sleep rolled across her like she pictured how waves would feel if she were ever to visit Lake Superior, or dared to really travel and see the ocean. She could hear Jacob’s voice from time to time, leaving her to wonder if it was just in her dreams or if he was really talking to her but she was unable to answer. Mingled in, she thought perhaps she heard her mother. All the while, she longed for Junie. The brutality that she faced - alone - was unforgivable to be put through such a state and still call her family for what they still needed to be: family.

Cora wanted to move. She wanted to whisper through the thick mud that resided in her throat. Her limbs felt like concrete; heavy and unmoveable. Her brain wanted nothing more than stillness. She felt drawn under once more. The dark was rich and velvety, like Jacob’s voice when he would whisper to her in the night against her ear. The way he would talk to her as they made love. The way he would tell her he loved her. Her heart swelled over the notion that this man chose her. This man saw his life with her. The quiet stretched into dreams filled with color and warmth.

The next time she surfaced above the sleep waves, she could hear Joshua talking. His voice seemed so distant. He had been her protector for as long as he could. She wondered if her body accepted Archer in her frozen state. If her body allowed him to be inside. If her body betrayed her heart and mind. How was Jacob going to look upon her when she did fully wake from her haze? She wondered if she would still be the object of love for him. She wondered if Josh would have to explain it to his twin what he was witness to. The thoughts tore at her spirit. How that monster clung to the fringes of her - did he have to touch her? Did he have to violate her? Would she even know fully what he had done not just to her, but to her sister? They were not questions she needed to truly answer… did she? Instead, she allowed the wave to carry her away once more, settling into remembrances of the way Jacob walked at her side, treating her as equal.

“You would’ve been proud of her, Jake,” Josh’s voice echoed through her thoughts. “She gave that fucker no satisfaction of any kind of reaction. She was beyond brave.”

“I don’t want her to…” Jacob’s voice cracked. “Josh, I don't want her to remember.”

There was silence. Cora focused on the hurt in his voice. The strain. Whatever Archer did after the end of her memory must’ve been awful.

“Why would she need to? He -”

Josh’s words tumbled through the abyss as she plunged downwards once more. How one could feel like they were underwater but walking through the desert at the same time was beyond her reckoning. There was blood here. There was pain. That monster’s laugh pierced her with each twist of his knife. But Joshua was there. Those eyes, so much like her Jacob, but more like dark caramel, more bits of gold and mischief. Those eyes kept her rooted, kept her with him. It was not just her blood, her pain, was it? He barked and badgered, insulted and whined, anything to bait Archer away from her. So much of those moments were shrouded in gauze that was stickier than spider silk.

Sunshine on her face. She could see the light on the outside of her eyelids. It was a warm, fuzzy light that beckoned her; welcomed her home. She experimented with sliding her arm up to touch her face. Then she flexed her toes. The pain wasn’t so bad. She turned her face against the pillow, hoping to breathe Jacob’s scent in, but it was a sterile smell, one that was foreign. Blowing out a breath, she tried to clear the debris from her throat.

“Finch?” Jacob whispered, his voice next to her.

Her fingers landed on her throat. She tried to form words, but she was so dry. The grit of whatever dirt was in her windpipe kept her from saying anything. Instead, she tried to open her eyes to look upon him. Sharp rays of sunshine stabbed at her and she was quick to shut them back out. He pressed his hand to her shoulder and the sunshine dimmed against her.

“Finch?” he whispered again, his face close enough for her to feel his breath.

Cora tried again, opening her eyes to a haze of light. Her eyelids felt like each one weighed tons, fighting against herself to look around. His fingers touched her mouth before sliding across her cheek. He let out a soft laugh as she struggled to focus. She could only imagine what she looked like with her eyeballs feeling like they were moving in opposite directions.

“I’m so glad to see you, baby,” he whispered, planting little kisses across her face.

She tried to say something… anything… Only air escaped through the throb that pulsed on the inside of her throat. She tried to whisper, to get something out, but the air caught, leaving her gasping to fill her lungs.

His brows knit together as he shook his head. “It’s all right, Cora. Doc said things are bruised in your throat. Don’t force it.”

Joshua appeared behind Jacob’s shoulder. His eyes were warm as he looked at her with a little wave. His face was swollen and cut and bruised badly. If he looked like that, she was sure she looked similar.

“Hello, lovely,” he whispered. “I’ll let you have your fella, hmmm?”

She felt the corner of her mouth tug. She grimaced as she tried to move, to create space. Jacob tried to stop her, but she frowned. Cora continued to slide and rock until she was on her side and there was enough room for Jacob to lay down next to her, belly to belly.

“Oh, Finch,” he sighed, brushing back her hair. “Are you sure?”

She tapped against the pillow. He smiled as he carefully lay next to her.

“You’re probably wondering where you are. You’re in the hospital. You’ve been here for two days. You scared the shit out of me, baby. I’m so glad you’re awake.”

He was careful in where he set his fingers, where he touched and brushed against her. However, each touch was full of light and love just for her. Cora stared into his face, searching for what he saw in her in the moment. There was only concern and honest joy. He whispered against her, telling her about how Rosemary had stayed through the nights with him. He had the boys at the house, sleeping in the parlor after too much sweets and hot cocoa each night. Sam was already honed in on educating Matthew about auto engines and Jon about actual engineering. It had been two days that she had lost. Two days that she had slept. She managed to ask about Joshua and Jacob smiled.

“You find a scrap of voice and you ask about him?” he teased, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip.

Broken fingers. Fractured right arm. Left arm was dislocated. Four broken ribs. Stabbed in the thigh and left arm. She wanted to weep. Joshua had placed himself before her as a sacrifice. Jacob’s voice warbled as he whispered his love for her. His fear for her. His regret that he hadn’t been fifteen minutes earlier.

The next time she awoke, she was in her own bed, in her own home. She remembered being wheeled out of the hospital and Jacob helping her into the Kissel. She could recall Matthew grabbing Georgie’s collar and holding him back when she caught her toe as they moved through the front door. She could remember her mother telling Jacob to take her into the bedroom and how his cheeks warmed as he helped her sit down on her bed. When she stirred, she could hear the boys swarming around the house, and the base of Jacob’s voice calling to Matthew from the kitchen.

“He slept on the sofa last night,” Rosemary whispered as she was buttoning up her dress. Cora frowned, unsure of if her mother disapproved. The woman smiled softly as she was reaching for her brush. “He stayed with you the whole time. By the time we got you here, he was completely exhausted. He sat down and was asleep in moments. I dared not wake him, and neither did the boys.”

She smiled as her chin dipped. The idea that he would not be far from her made her heart skip a bit. Rosemary twisted her hair up into her typical thick bun before moving towards her with the brush. She grimaced as her mother started on some of the blood matter in her hair.

“Tell you what, I’ll get the boys through breakfast, then I’ll run you a bath,” she said with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Mama,” she whispered through the fire that still burned in her throat.

“Still pretty raw,” Rosemary remarked. “I’ll send Jacob out for some honey. It will help your throat and we can put that on the … on the …”

“Cuts, Mama,” she answered, hurting over the struggle that her mother allowed herself to show. “I’m sure he would be happy to.”

Rosemary continued to brush through the thick hair, her fingers holding firm to each section. “I do not expect you to understand fully, Cora. To have one daughter harmed by my choices, only to have a second fall prey to the same hands…”

Cora stopped her mother’s hands, looking up into her face. She appeared old and young at the same time. The woman had aged considerably since the loss of her husband, but all the more so in the past weeks after the plight of her daughters.

“I can send you and the boys to Junie if you wish,” she whispered, enclosing her mother’s hand with her own.

“I won’t go until my whole family can,” Rosemary answered, her blue eyes sharp with care. “And I don’t just mean you and the boys, Cora.”

Her chin dipped at how her mother had brought back her own words, but tailored it to her own fashion. “Thank you, Mama.”

“You just sit back and rest. I’ll have one of the boys bring you a plate,” she said as she tied the thick hair back in a simple plait.

She felt like a stranger in her skin. Slipping underneath the blanket once more, Cora stayed up, sitting against the headboard, her hands quiet in her lap as her eyes drifted closed. Her whole body still ached. The wounds pulsed. Not quite as bad as when they were fresh, but they throbbed in a way as if they were calling out to her attacker like he could hear the pain they still caused. She focused on bringing breath in and pushing it back out as her ears took in the sounds of breakfast beyond the door. Jacob’s voice wove in between Matthew’s and Jon’s with Georgie’s trill over top in excited bursts. She sighed. Jacob sitting at the table with their children trickled through her thoughts. The smile that would grace the man’s face would incinerate the room in joy. She felt herself drift upon that hope, her mind focusing on each detail in dreamlike quality as her breathing evened out and tugged her into the stillness of her heart's desire.

The warmth of him drew her from her slumber before his touch against the ridge of her cheek. Sleepily, she opened her eyes as she leaned into his touch.

“Hey, Finch,” he whispered.

She realized the house was silent. Her brows pinched as she sat up. “Where is everyone?”

“Rosemary needed to get to work, the boys left for school,” he said, trailing his fingers down her bare arm. “You fell asleep and your mother did not want to wake you. I volunteered to stay until after lunch.”

Her gut began to sink as she continued to wake. “She was going to run me a bath.”

“I can do that, although I told your mother that Molly could help you,” he smiled, his eyes soft with care. “In fact, I don’t think it would be good to miss getting those cuts cleaned.”

He stood and disappeared for a few moments. She could hear the tap clunk on and the water hit the bottom of the enameled tub. Jacob returned with a towel and a sleepy grin. He helped to get her night dress off and covered her lean frame in the towel. Into the tub and he knelt down beside it, keeping his fingertips at the water to make sure it stayed the right temperature. He helped to take the linen bandage off her side, a near inaudible hiss escaping him at the sight of the bruising, puncture, and gash that marred her ribs.

Cora reached out to him, her fingers sinking into his hair as he rested his forehead against the rim of the tub. “Jacob?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Finch,” he whispered. “I’d give anything for your body to not know violence.”

When he looked at her, the emotion that was etched in his features stirred her, strengthened her. He moved around her, washing her hair and limbs and body as if he loved each piece, each perfect and each flawed morsel of her. He dried her and redressed her wounds before following her back to her room to help her dress.

“Rosemary left you some biscuits and jam. Does that sound good?” he asked as she finished buttoning up.

When she nodded, he kissed her cheek before leading her out to the dining table. He was talking about nothing important as he rummaged around the kitchen. Cora just listened to his tone, the rumble of his words as they escaped him. The vibration of him washed over, comforting, vanquishing the harm within and replaced it with a softness that was only for him. She watched as he finally settled down next to her. He reached for her, touching her cheek with the tip of his finger.

“I’m glad I picked you,” she whispered. The sight of the joy in his eyes made her smile wider. “I’m so glad you picked me.”

He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “Always, Finch. You’re my always.”

Yeah. That just happened. I hope you stayed with me through this chapter. Like I said at the top, we only have two more chapters until the end of Act II. Now that I said that, I guess I should say that there’s 25 total chapters and an epilogue. So, we have a lot of story left, and much of that is going to be rough. Be aware the violence only amps up as our characters hope to survive leaving Kingsford.

I do have a tag list - you can find it here

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @puzzle-gvf @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @redsierra1960 @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit @sinarainbows

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #sammy gvf #sam gvf #daniel gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic au #greta van fleet au fic #greta van fleet x ocs #bootleggers and wildflowers

30 notes · View notes

con-clavi-con-jae · 5 months

Text

OK SO REMEMBER HOW IN THAT LAST FIC I MENTIONED THE VESSELS HAVING A KID?

I kinda want to write hcs about her so here they go. Also thanks to @vesselsscarlet for helping me make her bc she's literally my baby.

Polyvessels hcs: Eden edition

First off, III had her after begging Sleep for weeks to allow him to do it.

Since she was born around the end of the TMBTE era, they named her Eden.

She has dark skin, shiny blue eyes and jet black hair. The boys all agree that she's the perfect mix of all of them. I drew her, so here she is, excuse how I don't actually know how to draw.

Much like her dads, Sleep gave her supernatural abilities, specifically, she can levitate.

Vessel asked III to teach him how to braid hair so he could do Eden's hair. Also III would paint her hair with those temporary hair dye things, like some red strands or pretty little pink tips.

II and IV are the responsible parents, III is the fun dad, Ves is a little bit of a mixed bag.

Since she was born to a family of musicians, she's always been interested in music, so IV taught her how to play guitar when she was old enough and even got her her own.

She loves to play in the garden with II and put flowers in each other's hair.

Sometimes she'd do the boys' make up or put things in their hair. They leave it on for the whole day, even if they have to go out. Bc their kid is the most important thing in their lives.

When she was old enough, the boys brought her to their shows with them. Someday she even wanted to go on stage with them when she was a teen, so the boys were encouraging so much. She was a bit anxious but they ended up having so much fun.

The boys don't really mind what religion she ends up following, though they'd be so proud if she ended up being a devout follower of Sleep like them, but they don't want to have her become a vessel like them.

II is making a photo album of her that he plans on giving her when she's 18.

#sleep token #sleep token headcanons #polyvessels #vessel sleep token #ii sleep token #iii sleep token #iv sleep token #eden (oc)

8 notes · View notes

sarcastic-halfling-princess · 2 years

Text

Suspicious Minds - Halbrand (AU) x Reader x Aragorn - Chapter III

Pairing: Halbrand (AU) x Female Ranger!Reader x Aragorn

summary: In an alternative universe, Halbrand was never Sauron. He was the secondborn son of Arathorn II and Gilgraen. Unborn by the time of his father's death his mother, along with a two-year old Aragorn, flees to Rivendell. This fic means to explore both a love-triangle scenario between the two brothers, as well as their relationship and how this would affect Aragorn's character. Basically this is a very self-indulgent fanfic so bear with me.

Word count: 938

Warnings: none

A/N: so this chapter is from the pov of our leading lady. We delve a bit into her background (just a tad) and into her feelings about everything. After this chapter I'll probably make two more. We'll get a Halbrand ending and an Aragorn ending (and maybe third secret ending?? shhh) but I wanted to let ya'll know! Thanks again for all the support!

Previous chapter

next chapter

Chapter III - Reader

Her heart raced.

She could still feel the phantom of Halbrand’s touch upon her, see the way he had stared at her. Frankly, It brought a flush to her cheeks and made her palms feel clammy. How had she found herself in such a situation?

The young Ranger had always felt certain of herself and her place in the world. She was one of the Dúnedain, her purpose to protect and serve in need of others. She cared deeply for those around her which included the last heirs of the House of Elendil.

Perhaps she cared for them too deeply.

She could still recall first laying eyes upon them. Aragorn had stood out to her the most then; tall, strong and very handsome even with grime upon his cheeks and grease in his hair. It had not mattered to her for she had been positively captivated by him.

Then came the first meeting with Halbrand, the second son of Arathorn.

By all accounts, she should have despised him.

Loathed him even.

For Halbrand was an arrogant and impetuous man. Reckless and mischievous. He had an eye for chaos; one she had mayhaps foolishly thought would spill over into reprehensible behavior.

Gods, she felt stupid now.

Barging into his study demanding whether or not he had joined Sauron. She knew better; she knew he loved his brother. She knew he would not abandon them; would not abandon her.

She shook these thoughts off of her and decided to prepare herself for supper that evening. Changing out of her silvery dress she dressed her body in a velvety green gown with golden embroidery. Her hair she braided out of her face and once she was done, dusk had begun to approach.

With it, came a knock at her door revealing a smiling Aragorn. She approached dear friend with the same smile; taking his extended arm all too gladly.

‘You look wonderful tonight, little one’, the taller Ranger almost seemed to coo causing pleasant chills to run up her back. Though, internally she prayed for him to cease his compliments. She had already been made a flustered mess by one brother, she did not need the other to chime in too.

‘Thank you, Aragorn’, she nodded in return as her mind recalled how they had bumped into one another earlier; ‘I hope you were not too rough on your brother-’

‘I did not dare after the lashing you gave him’, he gently stopped her as his amusement on the matter made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

At the jest, she felt herself grow a bit embarrassed; minding her footing as she stepped over a root in their path. ‘I did not mean to be so harsh-I judged him unfairly’, she tried but he patted the back of her hand.

‘He was in need to have an earful. Yet he meant no ill intent’, he assured her and she nodded in agreement.

‘I know’, she answered then met his azure gaze with a certain level of uncertainty; ‘I believe he fears to lose you’, as I fear to lose you, she added mentally.

At this, he gave her a burdened, pained glance. She did not know whether he could read the truth from her face but even if he did, he gave no comment on it. Instead he gave her hand a light squeeze.

‘Come. We must not act with such despair as the Fellowship has yet to depart’, he urged.

And though she feigned another smile, deep down she feared to never see him again. To never solve the uncertainty within her heart; to never know whether her heart ached truly for him or not.

These confusing feelings had plagued her so and Halbrand’s affectionate gesture had only worsened things. Truly, she did not wish for her heart to be so fickle as she felt she could lead both of them to believe she had feelings for them.

Yet her stupid, lovestruck heart…

She had drowned her sorrows with Elvish mead that night hoping to dull the ache in both her soul and her head. She had sung and danced to her hearts content, unaware of the two pairs of eyes which followed her delicate moves with affectionate and longing intend.

Halbrand, the bold man he was had even offered to dance with her at some point. And oh he was wicked; making her trip over her feel and fall into chest. And due to all the mead and ale, she had so stupidly giggled into him, chastised him for his deception which he then fiercely denied and blamed solely on her supposed bad footwork.

Gods, she could scold him.

Aragorn eventually asked to have his turn to dance with her. She willfully chose not to see the tension between the two men; all lovestruck smiles as the older Ranger twirled her about. And though her dancing partner had changed, so hadn’t the pounding in her chest; the fluttering of her stomach.

Once again, she felt enamored and spellbound. Wishing for the joining of mouths, lips upon bare skin and the sighs of pleasure fading into the night. Wishing for words of promise and love to be whispered to her and only her.

For a while she could delude herself into thinking all had been as is once was and that no war loomed beyond the horizon. For a while, she could imagine herself a carefree young maiden untethered by the burden of responsibilities; free to bare her heart to not one, but two men he very much harbored feelings for.

But who was she to choose?

Could she choose?

Taglist: @jack-napier-2008 @ofheroesandvillains @actualhawkesworld @woodyrubster @queen-ilmaree @northlilies @faithfire

#halbrand x reader #halbrand x y/n #halbrand x you #halbrand fanfiction #halbrand imagine #aragorn x reader #aragorn x y/n #aragorn imagine #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #rings of power #rings of power fanfiction

81 notes · View notes

fireblcded · 22 days

Text

𓏲ּ ֶָ 𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗 ⁝ milly alcock, 25, cis woman, she&her. announcing the arrival of VISERRA of house TARGARYEN, the PRINCESS of WESTEROS. whispers among the court name them to be both SPIRITED and IMPULSIVE in disposition, and those closest to them speak to their interests in dancing. if we bards could compose a song for them, it might tell stories of whispers and laughter across the hall, sparks from a fire dancing in the air, messy braids coming undone, the chaos of a lively city, secrets held close to one's heart. the seven whisper to their most devout queen as she sleeps, making her question where their loyalties truly lie. are they right to whisper? for their loyalties truly lie with THE TARGARYENS.

I . DOSSIER

full name : viserra targaryen .

nicknames: serra, vi .

date of birth: seventh day of the sixth month .

languages spoken: high valyrian, common tongue .

place of birth: dragonstone, westeros .

sexuality: bisexual .

II . FAMILY BASICS

parents: queen rhaena targaryen, 65 & king consort leyton hightower, 68

siblings: prince rhaeys targaryen ( 37, older brother ), prince auron targaryen ( 32, older brother ), prince-septon aemon targaryen ( 31, older brother ), princess daenaera targaryen ( 28, older sister ), prince calyx targaryen ( 27, older brother )

III . APPEARANCE & PERSONALITY

height: 5'4 / 162cm .

hair & eye color: silver-gold & dark violet .

mbti: esfp .

astrology: gemini sun, sagittarius moon, aries rising .

IV . NARRATIVE

the youngest of queen rhaena's children and one of her most difficult pregnancies, viserra was the seventh child, born on the seventh day of the month, the event drenched in religious symbolism. some of viserra's first memories are in the sept of baelor or at the red keep, with the septa doting over her, making her recite the same passage from the seven-pointed star over and over again until she had memorized it. oh, how she hated it. viserra would learn the importance of putting up a good front when her septa caught her burning one of the pages of the books and reported it to the queen. something had changed that day, and although queen rhaena never said it out loud, she never quite looked at youngest daughter the same. there is something deeply wrong with you.

the worst thing princess viserra can be, in her own opinion, is bored. life is one big feast for her and she always seeking stimulation and the next best thing to keep her attention. she holds little interest in politics and her days of serving as a cupbearer for the small council were always dreadful. affable and gregarious, she is easy to get along with, but it is not easy to keep her attention or get her to consider your feelings or well-being, for she is selfish at her core, even if it is unintenionally at times. most of the time she has no ill intentions.

V . WANTED CONNECTIONS

childhood friends: people she's known her entire life or met when she was a kid, what she'd call her best friends, the people who know her best.

friends : wide variety of people she's befriended.

enemies: queen of unintentionally making enemies bc she's inconsiderate af towards others

partner in crime

</3 : that one first love that ended up badly / very messily and they now hate each other

#westeros.intro

2 notes · View notes

faerune · 1 year

Note

HI.. 🧥🐈🍼🍸🧵 for argella :-)

What’s their style like? Do they put a lot of effort into what they wear? Argella typically wears more darker colors and more simple silhouettes. She favors high collars, structured bodices and sometimes lower necklines. She wears quite a few rings but any other kind of jewelry is minimalist and simple even hair pieces. Always gold though of course.

She wears Baratheon colors though sometimes she'll wear red and black more out of loyalty to Rhaenyra than the family she married into until her and Aemond grow close in their third year of marriage. A few months before Viserys dies, she occasionally wears things that feature both stags and dragons in their embroidery or metal work. She also adopted her late mother's love for heavily embroidered pieces which unbeknownst to her is popular Tyroshi fashion!

Hair is more of a nuisance to her than anything but she likes having long hair so it's a catch 22 for her. So, she usually wears it up in like crown braids or some other type of braid to get it out of her face.

There are exceptions to this of course and she typically wears a nice doublet and hunting leathers along with archery gloves when out riding and hawking. Around those she feels comfortable with and/or when it's hot, she lets go a little and wears more flowy, breathable fabrics and lace.

Are they a cat or a dog person, or something else? How do they feel about pets? She's a horse girl, unfortunately. Argella loves all her pets previous and current. Her current horse is a big black stallion named Balerion by Aemond before he gifted him to her because he heard that she liked to ride and is trying to make her less miserable (if only because it hurts his pride having his wife sulk around lmao).

Argella has a soft spot for the few hawks she owns too! She'll often be in the rookery petting them and feeding them treats.

How do they feel about babies and children? Would they ever have any? Argella avoids thinking about actually being a parent because she's terrified of birth and becoming pregnant which is completely reasonable. Her mother died in childbirth and she was present for both Aegon III and Viserys II's births. Her thoughts never get that far before she shuts down and tries to get her mind to go elsewhere.

When Argella and Aemond actually begin sleeping with each other, Argella takes moon tea to prevent pregnancy which she keeps from Aemond. I think he'd be hurt so translation he'd be furious with her and it would end up in a big blow up between the two so she just keeps it to herself.

Unfortunately, moon tea isn't modern birth control and is less effective so she's ends up becoming pregnant anyway and finds out during the Dance which is quite possibly the worst time considering she just betrayed Aemond and left to pledge for Rhaenyra. It's a mess and she disassociates so hardcore from it even she sometimes forgets she is pregnant. She just can't Deal.

The idea of having the child she doesn't really deal with until Aemond finds out (which is a whole other situation entirely) but he basically pledges himself to her and her child because that is who is family is.

And then he gets himself killed and Argella flees and has the child in Tyrosh. Argella loves her daughter more than anything but she's very changed by everything. Traumatized, paranoid, absolutely mentally ill to the max. She tries her best but doesn't end up being the best mother. She has her daughter for Aemond, for the brief hope they shared. Because Argella needed a beginning after everything.

Do they drink alcohol? What kind do they prefer? Yes! Argella drinks a moderate amount I guess, at least at parties enough to cool her nerves/deal with being in the same room as Aemond's family (besides Helaena mwah they love each other). She loves hippocras from the Reach!

Can they mend their own clothes? Have they ever knitted, embroidered, or the like? Argella can do a basic stitch but she's never mended her own clothes. She's a rich girl who has other people do it for her smh. She doesn't have the patience to knit or embroider either.

#<333333 thankee thankee #sorry i babbled re: babies #argella is weird about pregnancy and childbirth #oc: argella #asks

7 notes · View notes

auxiliarydetective · 1 year

Text

Love and War, Chapter 5

Heartbeat

i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix. | x. | xi. | xii. | xiii.

AO3

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

Don took the very last drag of his cigarette. He tried to get every bit of warmth from it that he could but finally had to breathe the smoke out into the freezing cold air. With a flick of his finger, he threw what was left of his Lucky Strike to the ground and squished it with his boot. For a moment, he contemplated taking another, but then decided against it. He would save what he had for another night. He had already given one to Muck and Penkala each, and would now save up the rest. After all, it might be a long time before Luz was charitable enough again to give him another pack, and his supply had to be limited too. What a lovely Christmas, Don thought as he looked up into the night sky. Up there, he found nothing. It was a dark, starless night - not even the moon was visible. If only Operation Market Garden had been a success, they could have all been home by now. Or at least in Aldbourne, with some warm food in their stomachs and a roof over their heads. Instead, they were dug in for the night, waiting for someone to open fire again.

Don let his mind wander back to their last stay in Aldbourne. Immediately, he had to think of Anita. Where was she now? What was she doing? He had thought about her in Normandy too, but this was even worse. This time, she wouldn’t be there waiting for him in England. She was out there somewhere, maybe in Africa, maybe in the Pacific, maybe in Europe, and she was facing the war without him. He still remembered the last night they had had together. The words “I love you” played over and over in his head like a broken record. “Somehow, we’ll find each other again,” she had said. But when? At least she had kept her promise to write a letter. It had been addressed to Bull as, in her words, “the most responsible of you rascals”, but had started with “To whom it may concern”, making it a message to all her friends in the company. Dutifully, Bull had read the letter out loud many times and Don had taken every chance to listen. According to the letter, Anita had just finished her training and was, at the time of sending it, waiting to be shipped out to a theater of war to put that training to good use. They had trained her in skills like cooking (her least favourite), handling mail, first aid and – her favourite – repairing and maintaining weapons. She had also claimed she now knew how to “run away with style” since she was supposed to stay away from combat situations. Along with the letter, she had sent a postcard from Iowa and a newspaper clipping of a caricature that she had really liked. But the way she had signed the letter was what had stuck with everyone the most: Love, Anita, with a lipstick mark red as roses next to it.

A smile spread across Don’s lips. He could see her image clearly in his mind. The brown uniform with its shiny buttons and branch insignia, the overseas cap placed neatly on her braided, chocolate-colored hair, the soft lips, the large, amber eyes…

That was when he got the feeling someone was staring at him. He must have drifted off very far. Really, when he slid back into reality, Muck and Penkala’s eyes were pinned on him, grins plastered on their faces. The moment he looked at them – he had to look very bewildered – they couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” he asked, trying to find out what was so funny.

Then, he looked up, right into a pair of large, amber eyes.

“Dreaming a little dream of me, weren’t you?”

“Annie!” Don gasped and jumped out of the foxhole, wrapping her in his arms. In his joy, he pressed a kiss on her lips. Who cared if others were watching?

How wrong his image of her had been. Anita was standing there in a woolen overcoat just like his own, the same greenish pants and boots underneath, the same helmet on her head, her formerly soft lips just as coarse from the cold.

“Yes, actually, I was dreaming of you. What are you doing here?” Don asked, holding her by the arms, still not ready to let go of her.

“My unit’s stationed in Bastogne,” Anita explained. “One squad of WACs, we work at HQ. - I have a nice little surprise for you.”

“Nicer than you being here? That’s impossible.”

“I’ve got mail from home.”

She pulled three letters out of the bag draped over her shoulder, handing them out to Muck, Penkala and Don.

“They can send us mail, but they can’t get us proper winter clothes?” Penkala complained, but he tore the letter open in an instant.

“They came with the last supply drop, wedged between the items,” Anita explained. “I was only supposed to drop them off here and leave, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you and give them to you personally. Captain Winters let me, as a Christmas gift.”

“You being here is the best gift I could’ve asked for,” Don beamed.

“I’d say ‘get a room’,” Muck murmured, “but then I’d be jealous of the warmth.”

Suddenly, an explosion boomed a few dozen feet away, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt.

“Come on, get in here!” Don called and grabbed Anita by the sleeve.

He pulled her down into the foxhole and was met with no resistance. Down there, there had only been enough space for three people, not four. Squished between Don and the wall, Anita felt trapped. More hits followed, some eerily close. That was when a voice cut through the noise.

“MEDIC!”

“Damn it,” Anita hissed and jumped to her feet.

“What are you doing?” Don called against the barrage, trying to pull her back down. This time, she shook him off.

“I may not be a medic, but I can help!”

Before anyone could say anything to stop her, she sprinted off in the direction the call had come from. Soon, she could make out three silhouettes behind a cloud of smoke. One man was lying on the floor, two others were tending to him.

“Sergeant!” one of them called out to her. It was Captain Nixon. “Get the jeep you came with! We need to get him to the aid station!”

Immediately, Anita turned around on her heel and ran off. She was headed for the clearing with Winters’ hut where she had parked the jeep, weaving between trees, praying that there weren’t any roots beneath the snow that she could trip over. The moment she sat in the driver’s seat, she could feel her heart jumping out of her chest. But there was no time for rest. She started the engine and drove back the way she had come from. When she reached them, Nixon and the other man – whom she recognized as Winters – carried the wounded to the jeep. He was placed on the hood, right where Anita could see him. His face was pained and almost lifeless, like he was about to pass out. It was now that the pressure really got to her. She was driving. She was in charge of getting him to the aid station. His life was in her hands, along with the steering wheel. Just before she was about to drive off, Doc Roe climbed onto the jeep. She remembered the day she had been introduced to him. A kind man that had saved many lives. Now, he looked exhausted.

“Go!” she heard and so she set off in the direction of Bastogne.

Everything around them was pitch black, the headlights of the jeep barely enough to illuminate the path. The darkness made Anita worry if she was going the right way, but she had to be. She needed to trust herself now. This was no time for insecurity.

But as they went further on, a grim image started to form itself. In the distance, gunfire flickered. Explosions swept over the hills. The closer they got, the clearer everything became. Anita knew these sounds well enough by now. This was an air raid. They were driving into an air raid on Bastogne. One of many. When they reached the first streets, the destruction was everywhere. The noise was deafening. Still, Anita kept her hands tightly on the steering wheel and drove down the main road.

Doc Roe threw himself protectively over the wounded, trying to shield him since he couldn’t shield himself. They were close now. Almost there. But then, a bomb landed right in the church up ahead, smashing the windows. The aid station. They had hit the aid station. A wall to the left of the jeep burst apart, forcing Anita to swerve to the right. She choked as the dust got in her lungs. In the middle of the chaos, she stopped the jeep not far from the smoking building. Immediately, Doc Roe jumped off, but then froze. People came stumbling out of the church, cowering and coughing. Then, he started running, running towards the aid station. Anita stayed behind in her seat, trying to calm her heartbeat. This was not the first time she had been in an air raid, but it still shook her to her core. A medic approached the van, checking on the wounded. He was in better hands now. He would make it. A bit shakily, Anita got off the van and started walking off, down the street. She was headed towards headquarters. Her task was done, now she needed to return to work. This air raid would not stop her. But it wasn’t meant to be.

When she reached headquarters, there was nothing left. The explosions faded into the background as she tried to process what she was seeing. The building was in ruins. Only the left side was still halfway standing, the rest had completely crumbled. Underneath the rubble, Anita spotted a body, an arm with a dark sleeve and a pale white hand. She scrambled across the bricks only to stumble and almost fall, revealing another body under the stones her feet had pushed off. Her heartbeat forcing her to shallowly breathe, she kept walking, eyes pinned on the ruins beneath her boots. Underneath a mountain of shingles, she found two entwined hands, one wearing an engagement ring. Finally, when she had reached the center of the building, she saw a face under the rubble. Pale skin, almond-shaped eyes and a birthmark on the left cheek. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but it all got stuck in her throat. As if in a trance, she stumbled back across the ruins, towards the jeep. There, Doc Roe stood, hands in his pockets, looking down. Silently, she stood next to him, leaning against the jeep.

“What’s wrong, Doc?” she heard herself say.

For a while, he said nothing. “I lost someone,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry.”

“What about you, what happened to you?”

“I… I lost headquarters. With everyone inside.” Saying it felt like swallowing a bullet. Saying it made it real. Immediately, she felt herself choking on it. She suppressed a sob, forced back her tears.

“You lost your entire unit?”

“Yup. … What do I do now, Doc?”

For a while, there was silence. It seemed the bombing was over. For some reason, everything being quiet was scarier than the explosions before. It was empty. Left you alone with your thoughts.

“I’m taking you back to Captain Winters,” Doc Roe decided. “He’ll figure something out.”

So, Anita climbed back on the jeep. This time, Doc Roe drove. She didn’t look back at Bastogne, only staring ahead, into the distance. The future was uncertain now. To be honest, it made her scared. She had almost gotten used to the explosions and the gunfire, but to have the ground beneath her feet pulled from her like this… What would happen to her now?

Finally, they pulled up to the hut in the clearing. Captain Winters was there, along with Captain Nixon. Winters looked at the jeep when it pulled up but seemed to notice nothing off. That was when Anita realized: She looked just like a soldier. From afar, there was no difference. Well, almost none. She was lacking the markings on her helmet, but aside from that… The same boots, the same uniform, no face recognizable. In fact, one might not even be able to tell if she was carrying a gun or not. Would the Germans even care?

A little helplessly, she looked at Roe. This had been his idea. Luckily, he looked like he would be taking responsibility for it. He nodded at Anita assuringly. Then, he walked towards the hut, Anita following behind.

“Captain Winters?”

Winters turned around. It was only now that he recognized Anita.

“Do you have more mail?” he asked, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

“No, sir,” Anita replied, swallowing down the lump forming in her throat. “My unit was wiped out, along with headquarters. I don’t know where to go.”

“And you come to the frontline?” Nixon questioned.

“It’s the last place she was sent to,” Winters said. “If anyone comes looking for her, they’ll start searching here. I just want you to know that this is far from the safest place.”

“Bastogne isn’t safe either, sir,” Anita commented. “I was trained to handle combat situations, I’ll survive.”

Nixon looked at her doubtingly, but Winters’s expression remained at the very least neutral.

“What else were you trained to do?” he asked.

Dutifully, Anita responded: “Cooking, handling mail, first aid and repairing and maintaining weapons, secretary duties... I know how to mend clothes, too, if that’s worth anything.

Winters nodded. “I think we can find work for you. That way you have something to do. Wouldn’t that be better than just sitting around and waiting?”

Wouldn’t that be better than just sitting around and letting your thoughts consume you?

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. For now, get in a foxhole. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, sir.”

She saluted the officers and turned around. Doc Roe walked away with her, in the direction of the frontline. Behind her, she could hear Nixon complaining about how he thought this was a bad idea, how she would get in the way, how she would turn into a problem. But Winters defended her.

“Doc…?” Anita said carefully. “Can you take me to Don’s foxhole? I don’t know if I can find it by myself right now.”

“Malarkey?”

“Yeah. I… I feel safe with him.”

He nodded and walked off across the snow. She followed, her knees growing weak. Don was her light now. Her hope. Maybe he could provide her with new ground to stand on. Doc Roe led her through the snow and the trees until pointing at a spot in the distance. Anita could hardly see the foxhole but then she spotted movement.

“Thanks, Doc,” she said quietly.

“Good luck,” he replied, patted her shoulder, and left.

Anita took a deep breath. Then, she walked over to the foxhole. It became clearer and clearer to her. The noise her boots made on the snow must have announced her arrival, because Don, Muck and Penkala turned around in the foxhole and peeked over the edge.

“Annie?” Don gasped.

“Mind if I join you?” Anita asked weakly.

Perplexed, Don scooted over and made space for her. She climbed into the foxhole and sat down on the ground, suddenly feeling the exhaustion.

“Anita, what happened?” Muck asked.

“They bombed Bastogne. HQ was destroyed. Everyone’s dead. Everyone except me anyway. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Gently, Don pulled her into his chest. He took off her helmet and gave her a kiss on the head before putting it back on. Tears crawled into Anita’s eyes. This time, she couldn’t stop them. In the tight space, she buried her face in Don’s chest, trying to hide from the world. She had promised herself not to cry, that she would stay strong, that she would face whatever happened bravely. People died in a war; she knew that now. She should have always known and maybe she had, but to have it happen to someone so close to her… She had lost Tessa. Tessa, who had been with her ever since their recruitment. Tessa, who she had shared everything with. Tessa, who had volunteered to go give out those letters instead of her. She could have been saved if only Anita hadn’t been so stubborn, so obsessed with going to the frontline. All Anita wanted was that the exhaustion would finally take her out, make her fall asleep, put those thoughts to rest. But that salvation never came.

#band of brothers #band of brothers oc #oc: anita reed #fanfiction

2 notes · View notes