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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

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4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #soulmates au #businessman Castiel #mechanic Dean #profoundnet #rae writes fic #i post something new every Sunday #this one kind of got away from me #but hopefully in a good way #deancas #deancas fanfic

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lastxviolet · 3 years

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Madripoor is for Lovers (Zemo x F!Reader) - Ch. 3

Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?

Warnings: 18+ / smut / oral sex / f receiving

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774

The hypnotic bass and Zemo's enthusiastic dance moves almost got you carried away. But over the bouncing crowd, you saw Sharon, Bucky, and Sam on the stairs, looking for you.

“Shit,” you mumbled, breaking the trance. “We gotta go.”

Zemo followed your line of sight and turned to lead you back to the group in silence. You try to hide the disappointment on your face.

“We found him,” Sharon yelled over the music upon your approach.

The five of you went over the plan for tomorrow back in Sharon’s suite. You doubted that even with your experience, you could’ve found Dr. Nagel without Sharon's help. In the states, it was easy to pick a needle out of a haystack, because you always knew what you were looking for. But here, everyone was a criminal. Uncharted territory where you had to find the sharpest needle amongst thousands.

“You good?”

Sam’s voice cut through your thoughts. You looked up and noticed the dissipating group. Sharon showed Bucky to his room, and Zemo sat with his eyes glued to a book on the couch. Only Sam remained standing in front of you, looking like he was about to pass out.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “Go get some sleep. You look terrible.”

He chuckled and nodded in agreement. “We gotta get the hell out of here. Madripoor has aged me at least ten years.”

“Me too. I miss places where being a criminal makes you the odd one out, not the other way around.”

“Goody two-shoes,” he teased before turning to find his room.

Sharon waved him on from down the hall and they got back into it about her pardon and what she’d missed in the states.

Your attention shifted to the only other person in the room. Zemo’s eyes wasted no time abandoning his book and landing on you as soon as you were alone.

“The Odyssey,” you asked, pointing to his book. “I didn’t take you for someone who enjoys fiction.”

He smiled at the attention and made room for you on the couch.

“I often find that there are elements of truth in every fantasy. The human spirit is sometimes better examined by poets than by professors. This, for instance, is a brilliant study on heroes.”

“Hmm, studying heroes? An attempt to know thy enemy?”

He laughed and turned to you with his elbow up on the back of the couch, bringing him less than a foot away from your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the lights down the hall go out. There were no interruptions, or easy outs, now. All that was left was you, and the only man who’d ever made you truly nervous.

“Y/N, if you were in Odysseus’s place, content and immortal, would you give it up to go back home?”

“You’re asking me if I’d abandon my legacy and family to shack up on an island with some mistress?”

He chuckled and nodded in approval. “Very wise. But what does he gain by leaving? Struggle? Hardship? Mortality?”

You tilted your head to match his. “Are you telling me that you’d stay on the island?”

His expression shifted for the first time since you’d stepped foot in Madripoor. The overconfident, smirking Baron dissolved into a man.

A man who hid the sense of riotousness that he carried with dramatic flair. A man whose charm and wit seemed fabricated.

This man now, fighting off sleepy eyes and grappling with the moral quandary posed, seemed burdened. You wondered if his quest for justice would ever get to be too much. After all the destruction he’d caused, could he still see himself as the exactor of fairness? Were the Avengers still his enemy? Were you?

“No,” he confessed looking down at the copy in his hands.

Your lips twitched but you didn’t smile. “You’d make the hard choice — the hero’s choice if it came down to it.”

He looked almost somber at your words and nodded.

“In another life…perhaps.”

His voice wavered, almost as if he regretted saying it out loud. The briefing that Sam and Bucky had given you about him flashed in your mind.

A hero's choice was the right thing to do; the hard thing to do. You knew that he was a soldier before everything happened. Just like you.

Was that not a hero’s choice?

He tore the Avengers apart in an attempt to stitch up his own heart. An eye for an eye. Avenging his country because its destruction had been glossed over by the world. His loss fueled his anger but he was more capable than most. A man without armor, or mystical abilities was able to wreak havoc on those who had wronged him.

Was that heroism?

If losing those you love didn’t permit revenge, you weren't sure what did.

He broke the silence by tapping his knuckle on the book.

“It is the perfect testament to the valiance of heroes,” he continued. "But, I must say that the wisest thing Odysseus did was marry his wife.”

You laughed and nodded, remembering how she saved the day. Without her, Odysseus’s homecoming would’ve been much more perilous for him.

“I often find that behind every great man is an even better woman.”

He smirked and didn’t miss a beat. “Like you with…your Avengers.”

“I stand beside them,” you corrected.

He raised an eyebrow and waved a hand. “Semantics."

You gave him an eye roll in return.

He smiled then, wider than you had ever seen. It almost made him seem shy. Perhaps it was because he was making a genuine point, masked in humor.

You were well aware of your importance to this mission and yet burdened by the fact that it didn’t make you a member of their special club. When this was all over, you wouldn’t be an Avenger, or anywhere close. You’d go back to S.W.O.R.D to wait until called upon again. It hadn’t occurred to you before, but there was a pang of sadness there where the thought rested. It’d be a mistake to let Zemo know but it seemed to be too late.

“You’re making fun of me.”

His hand brushed yours. “No. I am merely expressing my concerns about your allegiances.”

Still aware of the small amount of alcohol left in your system, you looked away from his quirked moving lips.

“Enlighten me, Baron. What wrong decisions do you think I’m making?”

Frozen in place, you let him brush his fingers along your wrist to your arm. He took his time, tracing patterns on your skin and inspecting his work with an unwavering gaze. Only when his thumb caressed your cheek, and his hand landed on your neck did he look you in the eyes again. The air in your lungs was gone and your body betrayed you with a furious eruption of butterflies.

“Living a hero’s life,” he said somber-eyed and serious.

Your heart rate quickened. As if you’d learned nothing in S.W.O.R.D about manipulation, you were back to watching his lips. They parted slightly, as if he had something else to say but thought better of it.

A hero.

You didn't feel like one.

A sidekick, maybe. But even then, no one knew your name. No one sang your praises at home or breathed a sigh of relief knowing you were out there in the world fighting evil. It seemed that the only one who thought of you as more than an assistant was Zemo.

Your heart felt heavy then. The two of you were impossible. An inconceivable pair brought together by chance.

But that didn’t make his dark eyes any less enticing or his words any less intoxicating.

That didn’t make you any further from his lips.

He was a breath away, but so was your own destruction.

In another life, the island might tempt you.

“Look,” you said glancing past him to find something to change the subject. “It’s a full moon.”

Without sparing him another glance, you crossed the floor in four quick steps to the large windows. Never one to give up easily, you heard him follow close behind.

He beat you there and pushed open the glass door before gesturing towards the balcony in silence.

You looked down at your feet until the skyline drew your eyes. The plan to diffuse the tension had not worked in the slightest. The moonlit balcony overlooking the beautiful city had only made it worse.

You heard him stop a few feet from you and then settle on the lone armchair. The reality of the situation hit you like a train. Away from the windows, you had privacy. This high up no one would see you and everyone else was in bed. You'd meant to creep out of the lion's den but instead, you'd locked yourself in.

“The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to,” Zemo mused from behind you.

“Carl Sanburg,” you confirmed, so he knew you didn't think he'd made it up.

Both of you were silent then. Swaying in the tension you'd built. Sanity pulling you back inside, inexplicable hope keeping you planted in place.

“Are you lonely, Baron?”

The words fell from your lips more delicate and intimate than you had meant them to. You let slip that you cared about his answer. That you might even care to cure him of the ailment.

“Me? No.”

You turned and scoffed.

“Liar. You were in a cell for years and you hardly talk to anyone now that you’re out.”

He leaned back in the chair, arms on either rest and a leg crossed with the ankle of his right knee. His demeanor was harmless in the same way that a predator poised to pounce was. Elegant, still, and ready for the kill.

“Not true,” he corrected. “I talk to you.”

“One person isn’t enough,” you said, taking a step closer.

Were you walking into disaster? Or being pulled? You couldn't tell the difference between his seduction and your own reckless desires any longer.

“The right person though…can be,” he half-whispered. “And you, Y/N, are more than I deserve.”

He gazed up at you from the chair. Kings throughout history, in war-won golden thrones and elegant capes, paled in comparisons to how regal he looked. Anointed with a crown of moonlight, ruling over whomever he pleased.

Your eyes widened with the admission. “Baron — ”

“Helmut, please.” He stood then and met you near the railing, his hand grazing your hip. “Only if for tonight.”

You shook your head, knowing this was a bad idea. His hand made its way to your waist regardless. He pulled you against his chest before searching your eyes for any signal that you were going to run. You knew he’d find nothing. You knew you mirrored his look of lust with blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

“Have I gone too far,” he whispered, bringing his other hand to brush loose hair behind your ear.

“No,” you sighed, letting him pull you closer and brush his lips to your cheek and jaw.

“Tell me if I do,” he whispered again before finally capturing your lips with his.

You uttered no complaints as his tentative kiss turned bruising and possessive. His arms wound around your waist, crushing you into him. But you needed to feel closer. He grunted as you sprung to action, flinging your arms around his neck, deepening the desperate kiss. He tasted like whiskey and something sweet. A cool breeze brushed against the exposed parts of your body. You let your hands wander beneath his coat, chasing warmth and proximity. He let you do as you please, only insisting that his lips stayed on yours.

You let out a whimper as his hand explored the front of your dress. He stopped to press his warm hand against your breast, before holding your face.

It was then that he pulled away, steadying your searching lips with a grip on your chin.

“Ich esse nicht,” he sighed, kissing a pattern to your ear. “Ich schlafe nicht, ich tue nichts anderes, als an dich zu denken.”

His teeth grazed your pulse point, leaving you gasping for air.

“I don’t speak German,” you managed to stutter out.

A hand slid up the back of your dress, gripping the zipper before undoing it in one swift motion and the fabric fell to the floor. The cool air seized your naked torso for only a moment before Zemo pressed himself against you again. The coat you’d complained about before, now provided warmth and security. You tipped your head back, almost over the edge of the balcony as he continued worshipping your neck and chest.

“I don’t eat, I don’t sleep,” he said between wet open-mouthed kisses on your breasts. His hot mouth left purple spots that cooled instantly in the chilly night air.

“I do nothing but think of you,” he finished before toying with your hardened nipple between his teeth.

You moaned then, louder than you should’ve, and let your eyes flutter open. The world was upside-down but you made no motion to move. You were making Madripoor proud by being pressed up against a balcony by an international criminal.

Utterly pleased with himself, Zemo raised his face back towards yours, leaning you both over the edge.

“Shhh liebling,” he cooed.

He pulled you back over, kissing your shoulder before removing his jacket and draping it over you. Each brush of his lips feeling more improper than the last.

“We would not want your friends to see you like this.”

In the next second, he swept you off of your feet and hoisted you into his strong arms. You watched the world sway around you and then settle when he placed you on the lounge chair, letting you get some warmth back from the coat and cushions.

He draped one of your legs over an armrest, exposing you to him except for a thin pair of underwear.

“Not with you spread open for me,” he growled. He towered over you for only a moment before kneeling between your legs. The man whose stature made him the tallest amongst giants; the most important in any room he chose, knelt before you.

“What would they say,” he mumbled in a trace. His hands gripped both of your thighs, causing an eruption of goosebumps across your whole body. “If they saw you like this, with me?”

He looked up at you then, raising an eyebrow, and tracing the inside of your thigh with his thumb.

You answered him breathlessly. “They’d tell you to stop.”

“And what would you say to that?”

His voice sent shockwaves through your system. Dark and sultry, with a hint of danger. You threw your head back again, barely able to keep a single thought straight. Your body shuddered but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the need for his touch. When you looked back to him, he was surveying your body with the hunger of a starved wolf.

“Would you want me to stop?” His voice was gentle and sweet then, asking in earnest.

“Meine Liebe," he taunted you for consent as he flashed a smirk and pulled something from his pocket.

Cold metal grazed your thigh. A moan escaped your throat as he unsheathed a serrated knife and caressed your skin with the dull side.

“I wouldn’t want you to stop,” you gasped, almost vibrating with anticipation. “I don’t want you to stop — Helmut — please don’t stop.”

He chucked again, before focusing his attention on the area between your legs. You bucked slightly as the icy knife slid underneath the fabric. He made one strong slash upwards and you felt the fabric fall away from your wet core. One of his hands gripped your ass, but only for a second before he tore the rest of the fabric from your body.

“How could I ever withhold something from you, liebling?” His nose grazed your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. It was only a moment before you felt his breath between your legs.

“How cruel it would be,” he growled. You moaned and slapped a hand over your mouth as he kissed your sensitive bundle of nerves. “To not give you everything.”

His tongue swirled against you in a tantalizing pattern, stroking you deliciously. He licked you methodically like he was reading the blueprint of your body right then and there. He held each thigh in a punishing grip, pressing you deeper into the cushions as he made a meal of you. The stars above your head blurred and the universe shifted.

If this was your destruction then it was illustrious. You'd do it over and over again until you landed in a cell right next to him.

“Helmut,” you whined with a heaving chest.

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbled between flicks of his tongue. “And it is yours.”

You would’ve begged him to let you cum but he beat you to it, making your back arch and mouth fall open in ecstasy. You trembled beneath him, over and over, but he didn’t let up. Your legs strained from being extended by his unflinching hands. You tried to stutter something out to him but no sound came except for content sighs and haphazard gasps. But his eyes remained closed regardless of the noise.

Without his mouth on you, he would’ve been mistakable for a good Christian, deep in prayer. Brow's furrowed in focus and devotion; lips moving in silent divine appeals. Only he could make you feel worthy of an alter. You couldn't picture anyone ever worshipping you in the same way again. It was his, you thought. I am his.

Lost in pleasure and shock, you reached up to run your nails against his scalp. Only then did he release you, and raise to meet your waiting lips as they trembled.

“You,” was all you could manage to whisper. “Only you.”

He pulled you from the seat, to wrap your legs around him. You brought your forehead to his and let him pepper you with chaste kisses.

“When I have you,” he said, before pulling the coat around you again. “It will be in a proper bed.”

You stared at him, confused and overwhelmed. The space between your legs ached with a longing to be filled but he let your legs fall away, and stood up.

“We can’t…I mean not now — they’ll hear.”

Zemo smiled and nodded while looking for something on the ground. After a moment of searching, he picked up the torn pieces of the red underwear you had been wearing. Before you could retrieve it, he pocketed the shorn fabric and stared you straight in the eyes.

“Worry not, Y/N,” he purred, reaching a hand out to help you up. “We have all the time in the world.”

#zemo fic #baron zemo fic #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo smut #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo #zemo smut #zemo x reader #zemo fanfic

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homeformyheart · 3 years

Text

simply be mine - adam du mortain x f!detective (twc)

author’s note: i needed to write a fluff piece after my last fic, “cottage by the sea,” and got inspiration while listening to a couple songs (see prompt line below) for a new years’ eve party fic. i hope you enjoy!

copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop) rating/warnings: 14+; descriptions of drinking word count: 3.1k based on/prompt: “only girl in the world” by rihanna / “one and only” by adele summary: adam struggles to understand why anyone would care about human new years’ eve traditions, but when he finds out regina enjoys them, he finds himself intrigued.

simply be mine

when regina walked into the warehouse living room an hour before the agency’s new years’ eve party, she was pleasantly surprised to see unit bravo somewhat dressed up, even if they were standing around brooding like usual. she was both surprised and excited that she was invited to attend as well, without having to be someone’s plus one, even though she had been assured by both nate and farah that they would’ve invited her. she giggled internally at the memory of farah practically jumping off the walls of the warehouse living room in excitement, yelling what seemed like a hundred words per minute about going shopping and getting ready together.

she quickly learned that the rest of unit bravo hated attending agency work functions and avoided them as much as they could. however, everyone was “strongly encouraged” to attend the new years’ eve party, which she gathered from both morgan and adam that what the agency meant was “we better see you there or we’ll give you the worst cases next year.” she thought they were probably exaggerating a tiny bit, but let it slide.

perhaps to make up for the fact that they’d have to spend the night in a brightly lit and loud room for several hours with colleagues they didn’t care for, regina found that unit bravo had already started pregaming before she arrived, and they pregamed hard. she saw firsthand the sheer amount of alcohol they needed to consume just to feel a little buzzed.

another rare upside to being human, regina noted, a couple of shots of any brown liquor and she was good to go. of course, she only managed one shot of nate’s vintage prohibition-era whiskey before he snatched it away and started lecturing her on its rarity and history and had to settle for farah’s tequila.

“regina, do a shot with me!” farah practically screamed, bounding over to her with a half-empty bottle of tequila and limes in one hand and a pinch of salt in the palm of her other hand.

“who taught you how to do a tequila shot?” she asked incredulously as farah poured a generous shot for them both and handed her a lime.

“i looked it up online!” she said with such a proud look on her face that regina could only smile fondly at the person who had become her best friend on the team.

they both knocked back the shots and cringed, the salt and limes providing little relief to the burn; regina could only assume it was maybe ten times worse for farah. but then farah drained whatever was left in the bottle and let out a loud whoop before wrapping regina up in a big hug.

“i am soooooooo glad we get to celebrate with youuu!! you are the best person on this teammmmmm, after me, of course,” farah shouted and regina couldn’t help but laugh.

adam raised an eyebrow. “you mean she’s the best human on the team, don’t you, farah?”

“nopeeeeeeeeeeee. regina’s the bestttttttttt of us and you can’t convince me otherwiseeeee,” she said in a singsong voice, much to everyone else’s annoyance.

“hey farah, why don’t you put on some pre-party music?” regina suggested. farah’s eyes lit up and she sped away and disappeared before regina could blink.

she felt adam’s large presence behind her, casting a figurative shadow over her in the living room. the room was softly lit by the chandelier farah herself had selected, much to morgan’s annoyance. regina let herself lean back slightly without actually touching adam’s chest, knowing it would tempt him to wrap his hands around her waist.

except he only kept one hand hovering near her hip as he said in a low murmur, “you really shouldn’t encourage her, you know.”

the corner of her lips twitched as though it wanted to break into a smile, but regina knew adam wouldn’t appreciate being teased about being a ‘stick in the mud’ considering each member of unit bravo took their turn throughout the day telling him to lighten up.

“you know she’s not going to stop, so just let her have her fun,” she winked as a familiar song started vibrating through the walls, followed by farah’s vocals. “we’ll be heading out soon anyway.”

morgan let out a sound that was a cross between a loud huff and a growl as she stomped outside, cigarettes in hand.

“i want you to love me, like a hot ride,” farah sang out as she appeared in the living room, twirling gracefully as she leaped over the table to land in front of regina. “be thinking of me, doing what you like.”

regina laughed as adam sighed loudly, intending obviously for them to hear, before he walked over to where nate was leaning against the bookshelf with a glass of wine. she immediately missed the warmth of his body behind her, or rather, the tingle she got in her spine from the prospect of his touch. she took a long sip of her whiskey, willing herself to actually enjoy tonight and not dwell on the lack of progress between her and adam.

“come on, regina, sing with me!” farah grabbed her hand and started twirling her around, whatever was left of the whiskey sloshing out of the glass and on to the floor.

“want you to make me feel, like i’m the only girl in the world,” regina belted alongside farah, throwing her head back. “like i’m the only one you’ll ever love; like i’m the only one who knows your heart.”

farah grabbed the wine bottle on the table by nate before he could intervene and put it to her mouth like a microphone. “only girl in the worlddddd,” she crooned, before collapsing into a giggling fit on the couch, bringing regina down with her.

despite wanting to roll his eyes at farah’s antics, even nate couldn’t help but smile at how cheerful his family was and how nice it was to celebrate the holidays together.

“we should get going soon,” he said, finishing his glass of wine.

“no, wait, regina’s not dressed!” farah said, immediately standing and pulling regina up with her.

“what are you talking about? i am dressed,” regina protested, motioning toward her tailored dress pants and blouse.

farah wrinkled her nose. “oh honey, no. this is a fancy party and you need to dress like it. come on!” before she could protest further, farah had dragged her back toward her room.

* * * * * “you know, regina might appreciate it if you partake in some new years’ traditions,” nate said quietly, glancing over at his longtime friend, who was staring out the window.

adam looked over at him with one eyebrow raised. “and what traditions would that be?”

nate smiled mischievously. “well, the one that seems to be really popular among humans is kissing someone at midnight.”

nate could feel adam’s shoulders tense a fraction of a second before he saw the physical movement itself. “that is an impractical and inane tradition. i would think the detective to be above such childish antics.”

now it was nate’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “and i think she’d appreciate the romantic gesture. it’s not childish to want to ring in the new year with someone you care for.”

before adam could retort, the sound of heels clacking along the hallway and the gentle swishing movement of fabric drew his attention toward the only thing that was capable of unraveling centuries of carefully architected walls with a single glance. regina appeared in the living room, farah’s arm looped in hers, dressed in a strapless black floor-length gown with a sweetheart neckline and slit that went all the way up to her mid-thigh.

adam’s eyes followed the length of the slit; the creamy complexion of her skin drawing him in. his gaze traced the way the fabric clung to her curves, dipping at the waist before cupping her chest. her hair was styled in soft waves to one side, leaving her collarbone and neck exposed. he didn’t realize his eyes were continuing to trace the delicate lines of her neck and jaw, before they landed on her red lips. they were lighter than blood and yet, just as, if not more, enticing to him.

he watched as the corner of those luscious lips quirked up into a smirk, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. his gaze shot upward to meet her teasing blue ones, not realizing that his feet seemed to move of their own accord until he was standing right in front of her.

“can i help you, commanding agent du mortain?” regina said, the low and sultry tone of her voice sending warmth south in an unfamiliar, but not wholly unpleasant way.

adam’s throat suddenly felt dry – an odd, human-like sensation that made him pause, until he realized that regina was suddenly very close. too close. he inwardly begged his legs to take a step back, but they wouldn’t budge, and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to anyway.

“your… dress. it’s impractical. what if you were to get attacked?” he said slowly after clearing his throat, clasping his hands behind his back.

regina smiled and gazed up at him knowingly, a look that was both infuriating and intoxicating. as though she could read every piece of his soul back to him and love all of him anyway.

“don’t worry, i have my volt gun strapped to my thigh, see?” she reached for his hand, her touch sending a jolt up his arm that would worry him for medical reasons if he were human, but instead was stoking a deep primal urge within him as she moved it toward the back of her thigh.

the familiar rectangular gun was firm underneath his fingers and even though regina had let go of his hand, he held on, not quite allowing himself to graze her skin, but feeling her body heat at the tips of his fingertips all the same.

“besides, i know you all will be keeping an eye on me,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. adam could hear the flutter of each lash against the air and found himself wondering how they’d feel against his skin as she kissed her way down his chest.

“of course, i— i mean, we, won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, moving his hand back behind him, flexing it once before resuming his stance.

“well, i only care that you are keeping an eye on me, commanding agent,” she said, giving him a flirty wink before putting on her coat and following farah out to the car.

adam let out an audible groan and rubbed his face with his hands. nate clasped a hand on his shoulder and he looked over to see his best friend was smirking at him.

“it’s okay. but if you’re going to pretend like there’s nothing between you all night, then you won’t mind if we all take turns dancing with her, right?” his smile only widened as adam’s mouth parted in stunned surprise. “come on or we’ll be late.”

* * * * * adam stood, tense and rigid, in a corner of the ballroom near the balcony doors with morgan, who ducked out every so often when the lights and sounds got to be too much, while nate and farah took turns dancing with regina. it baffled him how an entire room full of trained agents could let themselves potentially be compromised by partaking in such celebratory activities. even his own team, although he would admit only to himself that they needed the break.

farah loved the upbeat songs that allowed her to twirl regina around as fast as she could, and he wondered how regina could handle what must be incredibly dizzying and nauseating for a human. and then there was nate, who took advantage of the slow ballads and classic waltzing music sprinkled throughout the evening, to lead regina around in simple box steps. it was very unlike adam to care what his team did during events like this, as long as they behaved themselves, but something about how nate would lean in every once in a while to say something and make regina laugh made him want to crush every glass in sight.

he crossed his arms and glared at the back of nate’s head, knowing he was doing this to antagonize him, somehow. he felt his gaze unwillingly soften, however, whenever he felt regina’s eyes glance over at him. he quickly looked away when he realized she was walking toward him, surveying the room as though he was being vigilant.

“not fond of dancing?” she asked, the words coming out in soft gasps as she sought to catch her breath.

“i don’t see the point,” he said quickly, the defensiveness in his tone catching even him by surprise. surely, he didn’t need to explain himself.

“sometimes things don’t have to have a point to be enjoyable,” she offered, her voice pleasantly cutting through the din of the party. “and i really like dancing.”

regina let out a soft hum as nate arrived and handed her a drink. she drank it gratefully, giving nate a gentle smile that made adam grit his teeth. morgan appeared next to her and swiftly took regina’s drink, finishing it despite her half-hearted protest.

“so, regina, what is your favorite new years’ eve tradition?” nate asked, hiding his smile behind his glass of wine and ignoring adam’s pointed glare.

“oh well, i always like how excited everyone gets and parties like this are definitely fun,” regina answered, pausing for just a moment to look down at her glass hesitantly before continuing, “but the best one is of course getting to kiss someone at midnight.”

“it’ll be midnight soon, do you have anyone you plan to kiss yet?” morgan asked, slinging an arm around regina’s shoulders. “i’m free at midnight, if you’re interested.”

adam cleared his throat. “that would be unprofessional, agent.”

morgan brought another cigarette to her lips. nate stopped her hand with the lighter and motioned to the balcony. “let’s get some air, morgan, and leave these two alone.”

“sure, if you think that means he’ll actually kiss her before i do,” morgan snickered, too soft for regina to hear but it was obviously directed at adam.

a soft romantic melody started playing over the speakers; a love ballad that regina was familiar with, judging by the way she started humming along and swaying gently in place.

i don't know why i'm scared i've been here before every feeling, every word i've imagined it all you'll never know if you never try to forget your past and simply be mine

regina blinked at adam’s sudden appearance in front of her, his large figure towering over hers and blocking the chandelier from her sight.

“you like this song.” it technically wasn’t a question.

“um, i guess?” she asked, puzzled.

“you should dance,” he said, his hands itching to reach for hers.

regina tilted her head to the side and looked up at him searchingly, her blue eyes delicately framed by her long dark lashes. “are you asking me to dance?”

he pursed his lips into a thin, straight line. “you would need a partner, and seeing as no one else is around, i can… dance with you. if you’d like.”

her eyebrows shot up in surprise. she was not expecting adam du mortain to willingly admit to asking her to dance. she quickly looked around and noticed that most of the agents had gone out on the balcony to watch the fireworks.

she smiled and tucked her hand gently into his and led him to the dance floor. they settled into a swaying rhythm as regina wrapped her arms around his neck. adam hesitantly placed his hands on her waist, and a sweet heat bloomed throughout her body, making her feel flushed.

“i thought dancing was pointless?” she asked teasingly after encouraging him to shift his weight between his feet to match her movements.

adam lowered his head, as if he didn’t want anyone reading his lips or hearing what he was about to say. “with you… it doesn’t seem that way.”

regina shook her head fondly. “you continue to surprise me, commanding agent.”

i dare you to let me be your, your one and only i promise i'm worthy to hold in your arms so come on and give me the chance to prove i am the one who can walk that mile until the end starts

“i hope so,” he muttered quietly. “i have lived over nine centuries, yet every day with you seems new and uncertain.”

regina was afraid to ruin the moment by saying anything and decided to step closer and rest her head on his shoulder instead. she smiled when his hands tightened around her waist, bunching the fabric in a way that she was sure would leave wrinkles.

“10…9…8”

her head shot up at the sound of the crowd outside counting down the last few seconds to the new year. “i didn’t realize it was almost midnight, we should go join everyone.”

adam’s green eyes bore into hers and she was close enough that she could see little specks of gold reflected in them from the chandeliers and ornate décor throughout the room. “you… you want to kiss mor—ahem, someone at midnight.”

“7…6…5”

“oh, i didn’t mean anything by it,” she said quickly, giving him a reassuring smile. she tried taking a step back only to find that adam was holding her tightly in place.

“but it’s a tradition you enjoy.” it was a statement, but he was looking for confirmation while trying to maintain his composure despite his heart hammering so loudly in his chest he thought regina would be able to hear it.

“4…3…2”

she dropped her hands from his shoulders and let them rest on his chest, fiddling with the lapels of his jacket nervously. “oh well, i— i suppose with someone i care for, yes.”

the final second and cheers from the balcony faded into the background as adam leaned forward and touched his lips lightly to hers; they were softer than he imagined, even with the layer of faded lipstick between them.

regina’s body instinctively arched closer to his as she sought to deepen the kiss, her hands scrambling for some part of his shirt she could hold on to. she barely registered that it was over all too soon as adam pulled back, her head spinning from the kiss in a good way.

“happy new year, detective,” he whispered hoarsely, resting his forehead against hers briefly before stepping back and walking away.

regina touched her lips to savor the pleasant tingling feeling the kiss had left behind. happy new year indeed.

* * * * * mentions: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @pearlsandsteel; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @writer-ish; @fhauvilles;

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talietikasero · 3 years

Text

Stability

Random prompt from 8/11 [finished 8/16]: rewrite the Strive ending / create an alternate epilogue [to line up with my story project]. I may or may not rewrite the whole thing for fun lmao.

[Main story preview here (contains 6 scenes)] // [Chapter 1 now on AO3]

"I guess... that's what they meant..." She let out between huffs. Both the voice in her head and the former Sanctus Maximus Populi said the same thing regarding her potential ability.

“When the time comes, with your seed, you hold the power to save or destroy the world.”

“You can prevent the end of it all.”

Energy drained, she fought off the sluggish pace her body was moving. Looking over to her partner, she noticed he was barely hanging on to his life, staying incredibly still, and trying to regulate his breathing while facing down. While her body contained the [Scales of Juno], he had the [Flame of Corruption] ripped out from his, reverting him to a human. "On second thought, don't move." Once she closed the distance between them, she knelt and put her arms around him. Face against the scuffed leather sleeve, and she struggled to hold her emotions in. "H-hey..." Voice cracking, she lowly muttered between sniffles, "please, don't go..."

"..."

"You... you stayed true to... your word about... a-about..."

"..."

"Fighting to... s-save the world..."

"If the world was going to disappear tomorrow... What would you do today?"

"What kind of a question is that? Stop whatever's ending the world or die trying."

Her embrace tightened as tears ran down her face. "Human, Gear, or neither. The world still needs you."

With drooped ears and saddened eyes, the wolf spirit whined. Its host and companion soothed it by scratching behind its ears and reassuring the worst had come to pass. "(It's okay, Rei. We're still alive.)." She whispered to the spirit in her native tongue. Another whine followed by a lick to the side of her face, Giovanna patted Rei's forehead. "What? Are you worried about me? I'm okay, I swear." She winced as another sharp pain ran through her body. "Ouch..." Her superior, the President, placed a hand on her shoulder. Half-expecting him to say she's no longer needed, she began, "I'm sorry-..."

"None of that." Vernon's voice was firm; however, it sounded... fatherly. He may have his doubts about the agent, but he knew she was more than capable of the job. Facing off against an unstoppable force, she did prove she's worth giving a higher position. "I can tell what you were thinking, but you're not being let go. You take as much time as you need off, Gio. Goldlewis, Erica, and I will await your return."

Saddened at the loss of someone he could consider a friend, the time traveler meekly looked down at the minty green and white guitar he held in his hands. This entire time he was unaware of her true identity. If he had to lose someone like her, it didn't have to be this way. Regardless of if she recalled who he was and why he was important to her in the first place, false memory or not. He threw away his chance to return home a while ago, and now he felt that it would've been for nothing had he gone through with it. "It shouldn't have ended like this... Megumi." Axl softly said under his breath.

After regaining control over his body and revealing the wicked goddess's weak point, the vampiric samurai pierced the ground a few centimeters with his sword. He kneeled to show his appreciation for defeating the evil force that used him as a puppet. Now, he could see why his master was fascinated by the will of a single person. This same person was stripped of his powers and still faced death head-on. "May you rest for now. The next time we meet, it won't be as enemies, but acquaintances." Drawing his blade from the ground, Nagoriyuki sheathed it and took his leave.

The King of Illyria – his lifelong rival and their son-in-law – made his way over to them, stopping a few feet short to maintain distance. "It's finally over. They're gone. We can... we can go home now." Part of him wanted to hold a hand out to help him stand, yet he held back and deemed that action unnecessary. Ky's spirits rose once he noticed the man in front of him was taking steady deep breaths -- body slowly moving to show signs of life.

Right hand maintaining its grip on the Outrage's handle, his free hand lightly grasped one of hers. Face still downward, a weak smile formed. "...You think so?"

She couldn't believe it. He's hanging by a thread and using what energy he should be saving to answer her with a question of his own.

"I know so."

The past three weeks were a blur. From the day she woke up and adjusted to this new world to the present, where she aided in bringing down a god. She never would've guessed that any of these events could've transpired. In the days leading up to September 2016, she was a terminally ill scientist who refused any life-saving alternative to live past what little time she had left, insisting she spent it with her significant other. Fast forward to December 2187, and she was brought back to life and became the partner of humanity's savior -- the very same person, albeit for the last time.

_____

The next day, another patient was checked into the hospital. This time there wasn’t a commotion caused by bringing his unconscious form bursting through the front doors. She wasn’t strong enough to carry him in her arms like he held her – that’s what the gurney from the airship’s infirmary wing was for.

“I have a request. May I stay here until he recovers? I… I don’t want to leave him.”

Three days later, word had reached his family that he's – miraculously and defying all odds – alive. His refusal to follow the light after what had happened was attributed to his stubborn nature. The Grim Reaper knocked at his door, and he slammed it shut in their face. Occupying the same bed, in the same patient room as her around a month ago, the now de-powered hero lay hooked up to the vitals system.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Hard to say, but he'll pull through. He did wake up this morning, so there's something, yeah?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen my mother? About my height, short red hair with white underneath, and wearing a blue leather jacket? She hasn't been seen since everyone returned."

"She's in the room and hasn't left at all. I had someone stop by the house and bring her spare clothes since she spent the last four days here."

"Oh, thank god." The queen was relieved to know her mother's whereabouts. She respected her parents' privacy by not asking if she was able to go in.

---

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring-ring.

Sighing in aggravation, she answered her phone. There was only one person she kept in contact with these past few days. "What do you want now? He's still not up, so stop cal-..."

"I was going to ask something else. I'm going to regret this, but are you still angry?"

"You're a smart man to keep your distance from me, but a dumbass to ask that. Of course, I am! You ruined our lives with your 'self-righteousness' and nearly brought another apocalypse."

"...Aria, I understand your rage. If only I could rewind time and prevent your illness. I shouldn't have forcibly converted him and disappeared with your sleep capsule. It wasn't my intention to have our research weaponized, but I was figuratively and literally held at gunpoint to hand it over to the US Government. I should've known better and anticipated that Chaos -- erm, the Original's creation would sabotage your activation. Your screams still haunt me... and... I'm... I'm sorry."

"Asuka."

"I can't fix this by excessively apologizing and listing off my crimes, but I hope everything goes well for you and Frederick."

"Whatever. Enjoy the moon, or don't." She ended the call before her former friend could reply. "Asshole." Aria slumped back in the chair and opened her book to the page she left off. "We should've launched you into the sun."

"Oh my. And I thought 'Sol' was a hothead. You're pretty harsh, you know that? It's more frightening than I-No on a good day." Jack-O's voice rang through. Capable of feeling and expressing emotions herself, the Valentine was taken aback at what she heard during their calls. "If possible, can we listen to his show sometime? Please?"

"...Okay."

"Thank you. ~"

---

Forty minutes after the heated conversation, a groggy voice broke the silence.

"Is the... afterlife a sterile... hospital room?" Frederick's eyes were half-open, staring directly at the ceiling.

Aria closed what she was reading and placed it on the counter. Ignoring the monitors that once kept track of her, she looked over his body to see minimal damage sustained. "Looks like you've still got some of that healing factor. Or you're just too hardheaded to die."

He slightly turned his head to face her. "Heh. Probably both."

Running a hand through his now short hair, her lips curved into an unsure smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living?"

"This doesn't look like heaven. If you're my welcome guide, then I'll stay." His body was still sore, but he extended his arm out for her to hold his hand. The warmth from the fire magic still dwelling within them made their contact feel safer.

"I should've worn that jumpsuit and halo." Her inner voice's reaction was an exaggerated throat clear. "But if I did," she held a finger to her temple, "I don't think she would've appreciated that."

"I would've been mildly annoyed at best. Mildly annoyed yet honored that you'd wear it because of what you did."

"You're really pissed off at Asuka, aren't you?"

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it. Didn't know you were capable of that."

"I felt like you after the second day." He took that as a friendly poke at his history. "Since you've saved the world for the last time, are you still up for that 'alternate life' you mentioned the other night? We don't have to stay at Ky and Dizzy's. They can arrange something for us."

His ears perked up at the suggestion. Did she remind him about his statement regarding them settling down? Having survived an act of God, living a quiet life together a few minutes out from the capital didn't sound like a terrible idea. "What did you have in mind?"

"A fair-sized home, nothing too big or small, probably just down the way from their place. I don't want to throw everything away and live in seclusion. We're way out of our own time, but we finally have a family, people who care about us, and we care about them in return. Unless you have a better idea?"

"I'm fine with anything. Can't imagine I'd be able to go out much or at all because I'm officially a dead man."

"Not too long ago, I was a dead woman walking. Besides, the world thinks that Sol Badguy is dead, not Frederick Bulsara."

"Point there. You know, now that I think about it, this situation is just like a month ago."

"With you in my place, but I didn't have to be dragged in? This is the same room where I spent my time recovering. It was also -..."

"Where you got your new start."

"Y-yeah. That's exactly it. This is where I woke up to my new life! Not as Justice, or Jack-O, but as myself. That same day, I met our daughter and her husband, and then I saw you again. Just this time... I've been here since you were checked in. Everyone tried to get me to leave, but I refused."

He noticed the duffel bag placed near the door. There was a pant leg hanging over one side of the unzipped bag, and next to it were two pairs of footwear. "Way to tug at the old heartstrings. Stubborn as always, aren't you?" If he were honest with himself, he wanted to do the same when she was still unconscious. He had the feeling that the IRMC staff wouldn't have thought about asking him to leave the premises, even though he almost kicked the doors clean off the first time.

"One of my best qualities." She winked at him, giggling at her remark.

"Hey, Aria."

"Hm?"

He slowly sat up despite the mild pain, leaning over to bring her in for a hug. "Thank you."

Aria returned the motion, both holding onto each other, not wanting to let go. She had felt incomplete up until this moment. Preventing the end was a combined effort, and she couldn’t be any happier to have been a part of that team.

A sense of déjà vu, the song playing on the radio had neared its end.

You are all I long for All I worship and adore In other words, please be true In other words...

"I love you."

#guilty gear #aria hale #only tagging her since she's the main character of this little project #other characters in this mini prompt: sol axl giovanna nagoriyuki and vernon #also ky asuka and jack-o #the main fic's about 90 percent done #and i wrote this because i hit writer's block for two days #i'm ending the main fic's chapter 3 at the beginning of ggst so i may do some more rewrites #the song at the end is the brenda lee version of fly me to the moon #nat's fanfics #ah whoopsie it's 5am #by the energy drain i intended for her to jump into god i-no's body like in the actual story mode #but then she was torn out after starting the halting process

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regardingseas · 3 years

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Title: Echoed Vexations (Part two)

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Rating: Teen and up audiences (violence warning)

AO3: here! (Full story at once)

•••

(PART ONE)

Beginning, summary, and warnings can be found there. Story continued under the cut.

•••

He regretted it instantly.

Catching sight of the white abyss behind Their eyes, the sanctions of his mind found themselves entangled in the monster's clutches. They weren't physically there, but he could feel them all the same-- tendrils like snakes burrowing into his brain, parasitic vermin that rooted themselves into his very core with a vice-like hold. He'd thrash, or fight, but that only ever ended in the pain spiking from a ten to an eleven, proven by the past, and again by Cub's screams of anguish as Scar barely bit back his sobs.

His thoughts echoed in his skull, looping over themselves as the Vex listened in like safe-crackers. He wanted not to think, not to have a single notion cross his mind, but an infinite number of processes scrambled through at once no matter what he tried.

Not being able to defend himself against such beings was humiliating in its own right. Rationally, he knew They were far more powerful than the average human, and a group of Them was nothing to sneeze at when they got serious. The Vex were a corrupt and cruel species who enjoyed little more than acquisitive riches and making others suffer, but as much as he was aware of that, it didn't make being beaten down by something an eighth of his size any less demeaning.

With that train of thought, Scar's auditory input from the outer world was replaced by ringing-- blood seeping out from his ears and from his nose not long after. The taste of copper was bitter on his tongue, mixing with the salt of tears and bile that had risen in his throat.

We're nothing but small, cruel, and materialistic? The concordats forget themselves so...

They will learn from this, mistakes make for better humans.

I think they've forgotten who they belong to.

He dared to think he didn't belong to Them, that he was his own, not even of his own accord, and still his air was cut off. His arms gave out next and he crumbled to the side, gagging on red and trembling as waves of pain crashed over his body. Scar gasped, but his lungs refused to fill, leaving him grasping at his throat and pleading internally.

Do you remember now?

One of Them, or maybe all of Them, had asked.

Do you remember our deal? Do you remember the emblem we burned into your skin when you agreed to join us?

I remember, he begged in his mind, I remember. I'm sorry. Please don't kill me, I'm so sorry. I belong to the Vex. I'm sorry.

Horrid laugher overtook his senses, and a feeble rush of air filled his chest before his consciousness began to fade.

You will never escape us.

They finalized, and his world went dark like the drawing of velvet curtains.

------

Back in the present, flashes of that day and many others raced through his head as if to mock his phobia of thinking itself. It was almost akin to watching his past unfold in third person, like he'd been detached from his body during the events. Bleary yet potent reenactments of metal patterns searing his flesh, of his bones shattering, of gashes and bruises and the life fading from his eyes. All the times he was made to expand their trade, slaving endlessly until his hands were stiff and immobile from overuse, but it still not being enough for Them. Annexing the rest of the industry, becoming number one, having two humans as their play things. Nothing was, or ever would be, enough for the Vex.

Scar's nails raked up his arms as he tried to feel anything other than Their coils invading his brain, doing all he could to reason with himself that they weren't real, for the logical part of him knew they weren't. His hands grasped for the brand ingrained into the flesh of his shoulder blade, fingers feverishly grazing over the risen tissue to find the divot and remind himself that the seal had been severed. His time with them was over. The symbol was broken.

"I'm- I'm safe..." he recited, "I'm away, I'm free, I'm okay…"

The words were more of a finding of his voice than a real reassurance, and Scar fumbled to pull his communicator from his pocket, aware of how much he needed to contact a proper support system. Tears blurred the screen, making the already jumbled letters more difficult to make out, but he managed to gather the necessary information.

He could call for Cub, but the man was away, and even if the notification were to alert him, such an event was likely to jump-start evocations of his own traumas.

Xisuma was available, but he didn't want to pester the already busy admin with his troubles anymore than he'd had to before. The kind man had already spent countless time and energy ensuring that they were all safe inside of the world barrier; a field in which no Vex could enter on Their own, nor abuse Their power if They were to be deliberately summoned by a rogue party. Admin magic, he was thankful for it to the nth degree, but he currently needed a real person in his presence more than anything.

Scar scanned the remaining names on his monitor. There was only one other Hermit who knew about what he'd been through, and he was practically imploring him to be around.

Grain.

There he was!

Scar would've sobbed in relief weren't he already weeping, left struggling to type out a private message to his friend.

<GoodTimeWithScar> Grian are you avaiavble?

<GoodTimeWithScar> i need your help, i'm at Mumbo's base

<GoodTimeWithScar> my base? i don't know, the monument

<Grian> sure am! whatcha need help with?

Scar's thumbs danced awkwardly above the keyboard, grappling with himself over what to say. It was always a struggle to express his troubles in the midst of panic, especially when doing so was a part of the problem. He knew he didn't have to go into depth with the other Hermit, however. That was another benefit of them being aware of one another's history; they didn't need to spill their guts in order to receive a helping hand.

<GoodTimeWithScar> i just need someone here

<GoodTimeWithScar> i can't seem to calm muself down right now

<GoodTimeWithScar> or type out messages poperbly it seems?

<GoodTimeWithScar> haha dang

<Grian> i'll be right there

<Grain> i'm at zedaph's cave, so the distance is a little further than usual, but you know i'm a fast flier

<Grain> so just hang tight, scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> i'm not going anjwhere

Scar dropped his hands to his side with a shaky breath, flinching when a sudden softness brushed against his hand. He glanced down only to see a concerned looking Jellie, the cat purring softly and nuzzling his arm. He cracked a feeble smile and reached out to pet behind her ear, her very presence providing a degree of comfort.

Much to his surprise, it truly wasn't long before the telltale beating of wings thumped through the air, Grain landing expertly in the grass and folding his feathered pinions snug behind his back.

"Scar?" he asked, cautiously approaching the other man.

Scar looked up to him, managing to raise a hand and wave as a greeting. Still wrought with trepidation, his shaking arms were scored with scratches he'd unconsciously inflicted while attempting to ground himself. Tear tracks lined his cheeks and his hair had become an unkempt mop, but he'd pulled through the worst of it.

"Oh, dude…" Grian said sympathetically, stepping over the rest of the way and crouching by his side. "It's alright, I'm here."

He nodded slow, "Thanks, Gri…"

The avian returned the nod and extended his hand, allowing Scar to take hold of it as a reminder of his security. "It's no problem. I see Jellie showed up to help, too."

"Yeah," Scar chuckled humourlessly, "She can always tell when I'm upset…"

"She's good like that," Grain confirmed, earning a well timed meow from the feline beside them.

They both let out a small laugh, Scar's being far weaker but present nonetheless.

"How about we get you away from all this noise and take care of those scratches?" Grain asked, and the other Hermit nodded again.

He helped Scar to his feet, leading him away from the distant thundering of the base's heart. They departed from the heights of the ruins, Grain ushering Scar to settle down against a tree once they were out of earshot of all the clamour.

"Let me see your arms, 'kay? I'll fix them right up."

Scar held out his scored arms after a moment of hesitation, finding them still stinging with the red drag of nails.

Grain produced a potion and gauze from his inventory, pouring the thick blue liquid onto the cotton before dabbing it across the irritated skin. A cool numbness spread over the area, and Scar relaxed at the alleviation of his symptoms. People often overlooked Mundane potions due to them having no official use, but anyone suffering from a mild ailment could tell stories of just how practical its effects could be. From soothing scrapes or minor burns, all the way to settling stomach aches or migraines, they could work little wonders. A Mundane potion for mundane problems.

"Better?" Grain asked.

"Much… thank you. Sorry for making you fly all the way over here."

"No, no, don't apologize, it's no big deal," he assured, motioning to brush off his concerns. "I needed to get out of that cave anyway. Not to bash on Zed's decorating skills, because the gadgetry is amazing, but the rest is all nonsense and greys and belch-- it was making my head spin."

Scar nodded, but couldn't help the guilt that crept into his chest, eyes darting to the side as if in anticipation for the hostility he sensibly knew would never come.

Grain smiled tenderly and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I mean it, it's no trouble. Besides, you'd do the same for me. Geez, man, you have!"

"I guess you're right," Scar agreed, turning once more to face the winged man. It wouldn't be the first time either Hermit had coaxed the other down from a panic, for not only had Grain been there for him in the past, but vice versa as well.

Most recently, he could recall, someone had led a bundle of animals into the blond's mansion as a prank. Such a feat was usually harmless fun, as was the case with the challenges they'd created wherein a herd of chickens were set loose in the same manner. The problem, however, arose when the trickster wanted to break the chain of stunts involving birds, and instead released a colony of rabbits into the manor's grounds. It was intended to be innocuous, but to say it hadn't ended well would be making a molehill out of a mountain.

Mumbo and the baffled prankster themselves had immediately volunteered to clear the animals from the house, whereas Scar stayed with Grain at the man's starter base until the mansion was deemed clear, and he was able to find resolve. It had been a long day for them all, but Grain especially. He'd mostly adapted to seeing hares in the wilderness, but finding himself in an enclosed space with dozens of the creatures sent him spiraling. Scar had been told tales of a man named Sam; a heinous individual with ears of a rabbit, who despite the innocent appearance, caused Grain immense suffering.

He's from a chapter in my story that I'd much rather leave behind, Grian once said, I have a far better future to write now, anyway.

That last line always stuck with Scar, no matter how much time passed after he heard it. There were brighter eras ahead, they just had to move forward and stick around to see them. In the end, he of all people could respect wishing to leave one's past as just that. The past. Even so, he'd probably still deck that Sam character given the chance.

"Of course I am," said Grain abruptly, and Scar blinked back to the present after an internal game of catch-up to remember what they'd been speaking of to begin with.

Nodding and smiling faintly, he asked, "So, what are you doing for the rest of your free time?"

The Brit grinned in turn and ruffled his wings, "Well, my schedule is actually rather jam-packed. I'm spending the rest of the day with a friend who's in quite the pickle."

Scar raised his eyebrows, pointing towards himself, "Is it me? Am I in the pickle?"

Grian laughed, "Yes, my briney bro, you are. And I'm determined to stay by your side until you're feeling better again."

Thankful, Scar smiled as well, knowing it would do no good to feel remorseful for taking up his companion's time, or to try and convince him he would be fine on his own.

"Thank you, Grain," he said truthfully.

"Anytime," he replied, "Now let's find something nice calm to do."

"Now those are words I never thought I'd hear you say."

The two chuckled and made their way off, ready to waste the rest of the afternoon in a mellow rhythm to starve off any further panic. Scar knew he'd likely feel off for a while, not fully himself again until at least the following day. The lingering tension of his episodes always latched to his nerves and left him on edge, but he knew the company of an understanding friend would lessen the blow. They'd spend the coming hours in a tense yet manageable tandem, and to some degree, Scar could accept that.

He was still learning to trust the fact he was safe, no matter how much he already wished to embrace his freedom with open arms. Eventually, one day, maybe, he could believe it entirely, or at least to more ample extent. Until then, it was gradual steps forward on the road to recovery.

Grain skipped beside him, cracking light-hearted jokes laced with reassuring phrases, all made to help lift Scar's aching mood.

Wherever it was that road led, however, at least he wasn't walking it alone.

[END]

Comments are always greatly appreciated! More than you could imagine, in fact! 💚

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #mcyt #the vex #cubfan135

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dreamcatcherfication · 4 years

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Midnight is When I’m Most Honest

Ah yes, here we have sad Cathy Parr hours. I absolutely love writing Cathy Parr, so I’m glad I finally got around to finishing one of these fics. I also don’t see too much Kitty/Cathy friendship, so I figured I’d rectify that. Have some hurt/comfort, my specialty. Apologies for any grammatical errors. Comments are gladly accepted. PLEASE DO NOT POST OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR.

Please send in requests, I’m bored and I have no imagination right now, I need something to do. I’ll try to get them done as soon as possible.

Writing Masterpost

Trigger Warnings: Allusions to sexual abuse, insomnia, negative thoughts

Cathy Parr was an insomniac, simple as that. She didn’t know if it was her own fault she could never sleep, or if her body had some deficiency, but rarely did she find herself comfortably asleep. So she figured she’d make use of her time. If she couldn’t sleep, why not work and be productive. She swapped her pillow for a cup of coffee, her pajamas for a computer screen, and settled in for the night.

Sure, she’d find herself feeling and acting like a zombie the next day, but what was the point of attempting to sleep and still getting the same result? To be honest, sometimes Cathy didn’t even know what she was doing on her computer screen. More often than not she’d find herself searching for information on her Mary, praying that someone, one person, would have any idea what happened to her. Instead, she only dug up more on Thomas, the man she thought she loved.

Of course she knew Thomas wasn’t perfect, but his flaws were what made him so attractive to Cathy. She loved him for not giving up on her, for supporting all her beliefs. He wasn’t perfect, but it took time for Cathy to realize that he was much farther from perfect than she ever imagined. The things he did to Elizabeth, the things she let him get away with. If she had been a little stronger, she would’ve been able to protect Liz and her own daughter but… she hadn’t been. Instead, she had left them alone with that horrible, horrible man, and - well history told the rest of the story pretty well.

It made Cathy feel absolutely terrible, singing about Thomas every night. The queens had all agreed to write the show from their perspectives before researching what history said about them, and Cathy couldn’t help but regret that decision. Everyday she told the world how much she loved Thomas, how good he was for her. She was painting a devil as a saint and never even realized it.

The worst part was that some of her still denied it. She couldn’t associate the modern version of Thomas with the man she knew. Cathy believed all the articles she read, she believed that Thomas did what they said he did but… part of her ached to forgive him. She still loved him, and that was what hurt the most.

Cathy wondered if this was what Jane felt everyday.

As proud as she was of their show, as much as she cared for the queens and the ladies in waiting, Cathy longed to be back in 16th century England. At least then, she would be ignorant. At least then she would have her daughter. At least then she wouldn’t regret loving anyone.

A knock came from her door causing Cathy’s neck to dart quickly to the side. She slowly got up and approached the door, waiting to see if there would be another knock. Indeed, a second knock against the door, followed by anxious shuffling noises on the other side. Opening the door, Cathy was greeted with Kitty on the other side, wrapped in a pink blanket, swaying side to side nervously. Her head was pointed at the floor as she refused to make eye contact with Cathy as she spoke. “I just - uh - everyone else was asleep. I didn’t want to bother anyone but - but your light was on so - so I just thought. I can go if you’d like,” as she rambled, Kitty started to back up and move away from Cathy’s door.

“Hey, Kitty, you can come in if you’d like,” Cathy offered. With all her internal turmoil, the writer could use the company of someone else. Looking hopeful, Kit waddled her way into the room with her blanket still wrapped tightly around her body. She plopped herself on Cathy’s bed, the aforementioned woman returning to her desk.

The two sat silently, the only sound being the click of Cathy’s keyboard as she typed in a new query into google. Kitty watched the older queen, not saying anything at first. Eventually, she broached the silence with, “What are you looking for?”

Pausing her search, Cathy turned around so she and Kit could talk face to face. When they made eye contact, the younger queen’s eyes dropped to her lap as she fiddled with her hands. Cathy was used to Kit’s nervous behaviors, especially at night when they came from nightmares. Usually it was one of the other queen’s who helped the teenager out, but Cathy didn’t really have that option. “Just doing some research, nothing much,” Cathy responded lightly, hoping to coax Kitty into soft conversation. “Why are you up so late?”

Kitty ignored the question and asked, “What were you researching? You’re very focused. Is that why you’re still awake?”

Cathy sighed. She didn’t want to explain to Kit that it was her insomnia keeping her up, so she tried to go for a more simple approach. “I’m not tired, and I have a lot of work to do, so I decided to stay up late. Just for tonight.”

“But it’s not just tonight,” Kitty frowned. “Whenever I have a nightmare, I always see your light on. And you always look so tired. Cathy, when do you sleep?”

There was a moment of silence as the two queens looked at each other. Cathy was taken aback by Kit calling her out, and Kit just seemed genuinely concerned. “I sleep plenty, don’t worry about that.”

“But I do worry,” Kitty said. “I know I’m not like Aragon who always checks up on you, or Annie who always has your back but… I care too.” There were tears in the corners of Kitty’s eyes, and Cathy wasn’t quite sure if they had been there from the moment she walked in the door.

Softening her gaze, Cathy moved away from her laptop to sit next to Kit on her bed. She opened her arms and let the younger queen rest against her chest. “And I care about you too, Kitty. You can always come to me if you need someone. My door is always open.”

Sniffling, Kit replied, “Thanks Cathy.” The two sat together on the bed for a little while, enjoying the silence of the night. “But…” Kit said once again, “What were you researching?”

Cathy froze up, but then relaxed. “Nothing important really, don’t worry about it, Kitty.”

“If it’s not important, why can’t you tell me?” Kitty asked. Then wincing as she realized how she sounded, the teen reiterated, “I just wanna know so I’m not worrying.”

Kitty’s pouting is what finally broke Cathy into telling the truth. “I was searching for Mary.” At Kit’s frown, she elaborated, “My daughter Mary.” The younger queen nodded and encouraged Cathy to keep talking. “History doesn’t know anything about her. As soon as I died, she disappeared. And I wish there was anything I could find about her. Good or bad, at this point, I don’t care. Anything is better than not knowing.” Tears started to pool in her eyes, but suddenly Cathy couldn’t stop herself from letting everything out. “All I ever find is about Thomas. The man I thought was good and loving. History only talks about all the terrible things he did, to Elizabeth, to Edward. I don’t want to believe any of it, but deep down I do, I know it’s true. And yet I still love him. What kind of person am I to still love a monster?”

“For the longest time I thought I was in love with Dereham,” Kitty spoke up.

“But he-”

“Yeah, he did.” Kitty’s eyes were once again in her lap. “He was so kind to me, I thought it was love. It took a long time for me to come to terms with the fact that even if I had feelings for him, that didn’t mean it was my fault. Most of what I remember of Francis wasn’t horrible. There,” she shivered, “there were horrible moments, yes, but I still thought it was love.” She brought her eyes up to look at Cathy. “Loving Thomas isn’t your fault. Maybe it’ll take some time to see the Thomas you remember with the Thomas he was, but one day you’ll realize that you don’t need him in your life. To - uh - to paraphrase a line, ‘You don’t need his love.’”

Cathy let the words sink in before she pulled Kitty closer to her in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Kit,” she whispered. “That means a lot.”

Giggling, the younger queen shrugged against Cathy. “If I’ve learned anything about the 21st century, it’s that you gotta live in the present. So let’s watch a movie or something Cathy!”

Lifting up the teen as she stood up, Kitty squealed in delight as Cathy carried her to the door. Cathy was probably the weakest of the queens, but she did her best to entertain the youngest by carrying her down to the living room. So what if her muscles ached, it was worth it to see Kitty laughing with joy. “What do you want to watch?” Cathy asked as she scrolled through all the movies they had.

“Frozen,” Kitty said determinedly while staring at Cathy.

Chuckling, she asked, “Why that one?”

“Because Anna and Elsa don’t need any man, they just need each other.” Cathy felt herself melt a little when Kit spoke so passionately. The two queens shared a grin and sat together on the couch and let the movie play. They sang along to the songs they knew, shushing each other when they got too loud. Although they had already seen Frozen multiple times, this time the movie seemed far better than either of them remembered.

When morning rolled around and Jane came downstairs to make breakfast, she was surprised to see the last two queens snuggled together on the couch. They were both sound asleep under Kit’s pink blanket, arms around each other with smiles on their faces. Without saying a word, Jane grabbed a second blanket and laid it on top of them before resuming her morning duties.

Needless to say, Cathy Parr’s insomnia didn’t seem like such a burden anymore.

#six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #catherine parr #cathy parr #katherine howard #sad cathy parr hours #hurt/comfort #i wrote this in one sitting #im bored please send requests #kitty/cathy friendship #arent they called parrward?#parrward friendship #not my best work but hey #it's content

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darecruit · 4 years

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New Sneak Peek: Open Arms, Chapter 16!

Here it is! The beginning of the next chapter of Open Arms! I know it’s been forever since I last updated. Life and writer’s blocks get in the way more often than I would like. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 16: Tension

The sounds of dinner—the clinking of utensils on plates and ice cubes rattling in drinking glasses—gave way to an increase in chatter and laughter from three of the four occupants sitting around the table. The fourth picked at her food, having barely eaten any of it (claiming the lasagna was too messy and salad too difficult to maneuver a fork with her left hand), and refused to contribute anything to the conversation. Shelby sighed and pushed her plate away so she could prop her elbows on the table and rest her chin on her clasped hands. She regarded her daughter, the thick layer of sullenness hanging about the girl, and wished she knew why it was there in the first place. The two young women sitting across the table from them were both wonderful, thoughtful people. Shelby had taken a liking to them instantly, and the feeling seemed to be mutual—all except for Rachel. Not that Frannie and Quinn hadn’t tried with Rachel, the girl simply didn’t want to be bothered. And that bothered Shelby.

Rachel wasn’t being overtly rude, but she wasn’t altogether polite either. She was walking a thin line and Shelby was on the fence about whether she should call her out on it or not. It didn’t help that something felt distinctly off about the entire situation, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what. She needed more information or something to go on and it just wasn’t there. And without that, she had no hope of identifying the problem, let alone solving it.

Perhaps it was a touch of jealousy on Rachel’s part. They had had their fair share of that crop up recently regarding family, and maybe that had something to do with tonight. After all, mother and daughter were still getting to know one another and Shelby knew Rachel wanted alone time with her mother. The girl was struggling for it at the moment, and Shelby was still learning to find a balance. Still, they had had plenty of alone-time togetherness over the last couple of days. Rachel also needed to learn how to share Shelby’s attentions.

Or maybe it wasn’t jealousy at all, and Rachel was feeling uneasy around new people. Thinking back, Rachel had been unsure of herself around their family at first, worried over whether they would like her or not. She had warmed up to them quickly after the initial meeting, but Frannie and Quinn were different. They truly were unknown—to both Rachel and Shelby.

Yes, that seemed to be the more reasonable answer for Rachel’s aloofness. Shelby decided she needed to have a quick word with her daughter to settle her fears when Rachel made it clear she needed a word for a completely different reason. Shelby watched in abject horror as Rachel very deliberately snubbed another attempt at conversation from Quinn. She went so far as to look directly into Quinn’s eyes, reach into her lap and produce her phone, and then made a big production of focusing on the device. The girl couldn’t dress, bathe, or feed herself, but had no problem navigating her phone with her non-dominant hand.

Narrowing her eyes, Shelby shook off her astonishment and got to her feet. She began to gather the dinner plates, then added to her daughter, “Rachel, help me clear the table, please.”

“Mmmm, that sounds like a bad idea that won’t end well,” Rachel said, her eyes never leaving her screen.

“Rachel,” Shelby hissed. She was honestly shocked at her child’s gall.

Rachel looked up at the tone and gave her mom a bewildered look—Shelby looked pissed. “I-It’s not like I’ll be much help…with only one arm?” She gestured to her cast for good measure; the angry glower on her mother’s face lessened, but didn’t go away fully. Jeez, Rachel thought, It was a joke!

“I don’t mind helping, Shelby,” Quinn offered, rising from her chair.

Frannie quickly pulled Quinn back down, shaking her head ever so slightly at her sister’s confused frown. She, unlike the two teens in the room, understood what Shelby was trying to do. It wasn’t about needing help clearing the dishes but rather wanting a private word between mother and daughter. Shelby met her eye and gave her a grateful smile, which Frannie returned.

“I appreciate that, honey, but we’ve got it,” Shelby declined Quinn, noting her daughter’s divisive scoff in response. She took a steadying breath, then said, “Grab your plate and follow me, Rachel.”

Rachel sighed—she didn’t understand why she had to carry her own plate when it would’ve been easier to just add it to the other three—but moved to do as she was told anyway. Besides, the alternative meant she would have been left alone with the Fabray sisters and that wasn’t something she wanted to do, even for a few minutes.

As mother and daughter reached the island counter, Shelby turned to take Rachel’s plate and set it, along with the stack she had, down on the granite surface before staring her child down, hands on hips. “You were extremely rude just now, young lady.”

“Wha—Mom, it was a joke!” Rachel defended. “I didn’t know you only wanted me to carry my plate—kinda silly anyway, but—”

“This isn’t about plates, Rachel! I’m talking about how you’ve been treating our guests!” Shelby exclaimed.

“What?! I haven’t said anything to them! How can I be rude if I haven’t—”

“That’s the point,” Shelby said. “You’ve refused to join in the conversation all evening, regardless of how many times we have all tried. And I watched just now as you deliberately ignored Quinn to play on your phone. It’s rude, Rachel. We’ve talked about this. And I told you to behave yourself tonight, didn’t I?”

“Mom—”

Shelby sighed and held up a hand. She didn’t want an argument, only to correct the poor behavior before it could escalate. And there was still the matter of why Rachel was so reticent in the first place. The mother still suspected her child was nervous and the less-than-polite attitude was simply a symptom of that. Even so, she would not let the girl be rude, no matter the reason.

“Alright, Rach, let’s both calm down,” she began. “I’m upset about how you just treated Quinn and I do not want to see that sort of behavior again, not to Quinn or anyone else—” She held up her hand again as Rachel opened her mouth to argue. “—but more than that, I wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking.”

Rachel frowned and looked away. What was she thinking? She was thinking that her arch-enemy was in her home, having dinner at her table, joking and laughing with her mother, and all signs pointed to this becoming a thing. Rachel wasn’t dumb, she saw how Quinn was ingratiating herself with Shelby, and her mother was eating it up! She knew she was done for when Quinn and Frannie revealed their sob story about their parents being killed in a car accident two years ago and how Frannie stepped up to care for Quinn so that Quinn wouldn’t have to go into foster care. And okay, it was actually horrific and Rachel was truly saddened to hear about Mr. and Mrs. Fabray’s deaths—it certainly made her think about Quinn in a different light (at least for a moment), until she remembered how awful Quinn usually was to her. The worst thing was that she felt bad for Quinn, had sympathy for her, and for the first time ever, saw her not as some heartless bitch who tortured her for the fun of it, but as a broken kid who was hurting. Maybe they even had something in common—Rachel had her fair share of broken and hurting—but Rachel couldn’t believe it possible of herself to hurt someone the way Quinn had her, no matter the circumstances.

“I…I don’t—” Rachel sighed. “I’m ready for them to leave,” she answered truthfully. She was ready for them to leave and have her mother to herself again.

Shelby nodded in understanding. So it seemed both of her suspicions were right. Rachel was feeling jealous and unsure. “I hear you, honey, and they won’t be here the whole evening—I promise you and me will have our time tonight,” Shelby said, reaching out to rub Rachel’s good arm soothingly. “But I’m really enjoying myself and enjoying getting to know Frannie and Quinn. I know it can be scary meeting new people and knowing what to say, but they seem like very sweet girls—young ladies. I think if you give them a chance—especially Quinn—you will find a friend.”

Rachel groaned and rolled her eyes. Her mother had no idea—and it wasn’t like Rachel could clue her in! “What if I don’t want to be her friend?” she all but whined.

“Rachel!” Shelby half laughed, half scolded. “You can’t know that until you try. I want you to try, honey. Just talk to her, get to know her a bit before you make a decision.”

“Mom—”

“Try, Rachel. She’s been nothing but kind to you all evening and you’re snubbing all of her efforts. Remember what I told you last week—you can’t close yourself off to everyone. I understand last time she was over, Lexi was too and they already share a history together. I get that that can be intimidating, but you’re on equal footing with her tonight. I want you to stop ignoring her and put some effort in, alright?”

“I’m not ignoring her,” Rachel whined, but wisely chose not to continue at the look she was receiving.

“You absolutely ignored her not five minutes ago, on purpose. And before that, you were this close—” Shelby held her thumb and index finger a hair apart, “—to being rude in my book. And you know what will happen if you are rude, don’t you?”

Rachel’s face grew hot and she took an involuntary step backwards. She knew exactly what would happen—her mother’s warning from the weekend echoed in her head. She had no desire to be a part of any conversation that would include talking points over a maternal lap, thank you very much!

“Rachel,” Shelby prompted, raising her eyebrow for added effect, “Do I need to remind you what will happen?”

“Wha—? Yes, I—I mean no! No, Mo—uh—ma’am. No, ma’am. You don’t,” Rachel stumbled over her words. Her face was burning at this point and no doubt bright red, and she shifted her feet uneasily, purposefully avoiding catching her mother’s eye.

Shelby took pity on her girl and her stance softened. “I love you, Rachel,” she affirmed, her tone gentle. “You need to learn how to conduct yourself around others, especially when things aren’t going your way. I’m here to help you with that and steer you in the right direction, but I won’t let you get away with deliberate wrong-doing; there will always be consequences. Do you understand?”

Rachel sighed and nodded. “Yes, ma’am…I understand.”

Shelby stepped forward, reaching a hand out to lift her daughter’s chin. Meeting sad eyes, she gave the girl a warm smile. “You are a good girl, Rachel Barbra Corcoran. You’ve got a big heart and so much love to give. I need you to let your guard down just a bit and let others see how amazing you are.”

#open arms #chapter16 #Shelby #Rachel #Quinn #Frannie

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arthurjdrake · 4 years

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Caffeine Doesn’t Fix : Erin + Arthur

When: A week into the realisation of Mercy’s blindness. Where: Coffee Plus Who: Arthur and @corpse--diem Summary: Apparently caffeine doesn’t fix everything. Who knew? Aka these two crank pots need a month long nap and this time Erin’s the one running outta the coffee shop like her pants are on fire. Will they ever have a normal conversation? We just don’t know.

To say the week had gone to hell in a handbasket was perhaps one of the biggest understatements anyone might be able to put into words. Unfortunately, it was the nearest summation Arthur had for his life. The repercussions of the weekend were still resounding through Arthur’s life. Mercy was back at home and settled in as much as he could make her feel there considering she’d died and come back without any trace of her sight. It was the first instance either of them had experienced the occurrence - the only difference in circumstances being Regan’s scream in the morgue. He’d tried his best to make the house more accommodating, but Mercy’s cursing had taken up most of the time inside whenever she walked into a counter or a table. There had been several smashed glasses as well that had led to a panicked moment of ordering her to stay right there, don’t move whilst he cleaned up.

Which only fed into Mercy’s frustration and guilt and made an already vicious cycle even more difficult to deal with. There was a learning curve, and Arthur felt he was falling behind at every hurdle he came to. Sleep was something he was finding hard to come by, and the time morning came around it felt as if he was running on fumes.

Explaining why he chanced his luck at coffee plus, he hadn’t been here since the last time he’d run into Erin and the awkward exit regarding his identity. Arthur knew he looked frazzled; tousled hair hidden by a flat cap, blood-shot eyes and dark circles under his glasses. But he was hoping no one he knew would be in. He could get in, get out and go to the grocery store to get the things they needed to stock up. He was picking up his drink when the bell over the door chimed, and a casual glance over in that direction had him freezing mid-reach for his coffee. Maybe he could get out before she saw him. Maybe… Maybe she wouldn’t see him. “Oh bloody hell,” he cursed as he missed the barista’s hand entirely in the transference, the drink careening onto the floor and spilling everywhere. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry… Fuck I’m so sorry about that,” he apologised quickly going to grab some serviettes and try to clean up some of the mess internally cringing at the situation he’d put himself in.

If there was ever a week that Erin needed the tallest, strongest cup of coffee White Crest had to offer, it was this one. Dale was dead by her hand and she’d barely slept since Roy fucking Chambers had given her the order to do so. She didn’t feel sorry that he was dead. Didn’t even feel sorry that she had been the one to do it. That was what bothered her. Her mind looped in frantic circles while heavy unease made her bones ache, even when every part of her body begged for that release to come. Occasionally it did, when her eyelids felt weighted down with lead and her words came out in slurs as if she’d spent the entire day drinking. And it was never long enough when she finally snapped back into consciousness a few hours later. She’d crack her lip open once more, cringe at the bruise smattering her cheek and eye and remember all over again. God, she missed sleep. But not nearly half as much as she didn’t Dale.

Maybe soon, maybe next week, or the next. Maybe when this was over, a deep rest would welcome her again. Marley’s words tickled her ear. What’s next? Coffee. For now? Lots of fucking coffee.

She closed her eyes and pressed on into Coffee Plus, the bell startling her eyes open a little wider than before. And if it wasn’t for the sudden chaos ahead in line, there was a good chance she would’ve missed the mess of a man altogether. “Arthur?” She asked, but behind his own exhausted face, she could tell. She’d scoured his family history long enough to be sure of it. Almost sure she’d never forget it again, honesty. Had she startled him? Made sense, considering the way she had practically spooked him out of this very cafe once already. “Sorry, sorry,” she shook her head, holding her hands up, mustering a small, tired smile. “I come in peace in search of a caffeinated sustenance,” she nodded, staying still as if she was trying to calm a wild animal.

The days had begun blending into one, taking into account recent occurrences Arthur had opted to cancel his summer classes. He’d cited family emergencies, and he figured the term was applicable enough given the situation. Mercy at home without sight leaving the both of them scared that it might never come back. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but right now it was too much of a shock to truly process on top of everything else that had happened. What would they do if it never came back? They’d have to learn new ways to communicate and navigate the world. But whatever the outcome, Arthur was set in the fact he’d do everything he could to try and help.

But coffee was the order of business, until it wasn’t and coffee was the dripping stain down the front of his white t-shirt. He cringed both at himself and the scene that had come about all because of-

Oh boy she was coming over. A mildly charginned expression overcame the scholar’s features, a look that he schooled into something more apologetic and world-weary, “no it’s fine… I’m all over the place today it seems,” A slightly nervous laugh escaped him, what was she doing here? What was she doing talking to him? What did she want? Deciding that it was perhaps best not to worry about that right now Arthur looked at her properly for a moment, “you look like you’ve been through the wars” he remarked knowing it was a rather rich remark considering his own state of being. “Here let me… What do you want? Consider it an… apology for me running out on you last time we spoke.” Even now, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to blame another person for spooking him enough to make him bolt. Better to make amends and move forward than dwell in the dirges of past actions.

All over the place seemed like an understatement. “So is your coffee,” Erin noted, giving a half-smile, half-cringe as at the mess that had become of the front of his shirt. Whatever it was she had done during their last interaction had stuck with him pretty good, apparently. “And to think I thought I’d finally gained the ability to make grown men cower in my presence.” A dumb joke, she knew it, but hoped even if he agreed, the terrible attempt might coax some of that stress she saw everytime he looked her way.

When he commented on her own appearance, she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening a bit, bristling from his words. Guess she wasn’t holding herself together as well as she thought. “Gee, thanks,” she chuckled but shook her head. “Been a long week.” She could only assume he probably understood that sentiment more than he let on. “Considering I kind of ambushed you the last time we spoke--don’t worry about it. Seriously. This one’s on me,” she assured him with a nod and a smile. Probably wouldn’t hurt to make a better impression on her friend’s… boyfriend? That fact was still a little unclear. But she’d try regardless. Without giving him time to politely turn her down, she skipped ahead and requested two of whatever Arthur had poured all over himself. “Guess you’ve seen some wars yourself lately, huh?” She asked as they waited for the fresh new drinks, drumming her fingers along the wooden counter. After a moment, she glanced back up at him. “I know I don’t know you super well but, uh, Mercy seems pretty fond of you. And I can’t help but notice it looks like someone chewed you up and spit you back out yourself,” she joked, but her smile was soft and sincere. “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener. I have nowhere to rush off to right now, so if you don’t either--” she shrugged, her words drifting to an end, but the implication was made with a gesture towards an empty table.

“Yes, it would seem so,” Arthur agreed with a slightly lighter laugh pulling at the fabric a little, thankful the heat didn’t bother him at all but it didn’t change the fact it wasn’t ideal to have coffee all down his shirt. “No harm done I guess,” but the smile grew a touch more genuine at Erin’s attempt at a joke, “don’t know about cower, I’d definitely say flee in terror,” considering their last conversation that was for sure but his grin tired as it was gave away his joke.

Arthur hadn’t meant offence and seeing the slight change in her demeanour immediately earned another apologetic look holding his hands up a little as if to try and placate a situation he really wasn’t sure he could handle right now “sorry, I- didn’t mean to upset you- It was a joke… I was… I just meant I can relate. Long week and all that...” He cringed internally at the whole thing, how did he end up here? He wanted to protest as she said about taking care of the coffee, but she was already ordering before he had a choice leaving him to back up a little and just watch from the sidelines.

“You have no idea, I feel like it” he remarked wearily, rubbing his eyes he’d barely slept for the amount of reading and things he’d been doing. What he wasn’t anticipating was the offer she made next. It made him blink in surprise, a mild gnawing suspicion eating away at him but then again she was Mercy’s friend. That counted for something. “I mean… Sure, and likewise… If you want to talk about whatever’s going on with you as well…” Whether he could help he couldn’t say but maybe it would be good for them both. The coffees were presented, and Arthur reached for his cupping it in his hands before gesturing for her to go ahead before following to slide in opposite. He sat sipping at his coffee before he set it down and spoke, “have you uh- heard from her lately? Mercy that is… Probably the best place to start.”

“No need to apologize, honestly. You’re probably right, anyway” Erin shook her head, trying to keep that smile on her face to show she was still very much being friendly. It was funny, she thought, as the coffee cups were set down in front of them. Same place, roughly around the same time as the last time they’d bumped into each other. Not a thing felt the same though. Her curious drive for answers from before was nowhere to be found, and while he was still jumpy as could be, the energy behind it was different. Even in the face of it all, he was still making a great effort to be kind, polite, and she could appreciate that for what it was. This town was brutal and it’s darkness was relentless. If they didn’t take moments like these, it would have torn them all to pieces by now. But as kind as the gesture was, Arthur absofuckinglutely didn’t need to know about her current personal plague. Just a little too illegal and a little too dark to throw on a guy she barely knew. Seemed like a safe assumption.

“I appreciate that,” she grabbed her cup, smiled warmly once more, then took a seat across from him. God, sweet caffeine. She was already sipping it before they’d properly settled in. At Arthur’s question regarding Mercy, her mind flashed back to their last visit. Beer, drunken sparring, inhuman healing. With all that had gone on, she hadn’t had a chance to connect with her since. “No,” Erin shook her head, a trickle of concern worming its way into her chest. “Not since, uh--” she paused, unsure as she tried to read Arthur’s expression. “She didn’t tell you about what happened the last time I saw her, did she? I know you guys are pretty close.” Close was the most polite way she could think of to touch on that whole story she’d also learned that day.

There always had to be some form of light in the darkness, Arthur did his best to look for it. Didn’t mean he was always successful in finding it, or that it held answers he particularly wanted but it was better than living day to day under the oppressive grind of horror and harm that seemed to pervade the very essence of this town. But like most people living here he managed to the best of his ability, though the journey wasn’t easy, the work it required made the outcome worthwhile. At least, usually it did.

Right now finding the light was easier said than done, but it wasn’t something he was quite certain how to put into words. So he focussed on his coffee mulling over the things he knew, the things he didn’t and the questions that pervaded the darkness around those things he didn’t know.

But the tiredness was replaced with a touch of a wry smile that came at the somewhat hesitant phrasing of her question, “no need to be delicate about it. You’re right, but she tells me pretty much everything so… I’m aware you’re privy to a fraction of our uh… convoluted history.” Which was putting it mildly. He took a sip of his coffee, but the small smile remained proof that he wasn’t mad. “Which and correct me if I’m wrong… She also told you about the… uh year in which that particular incident happened?” Which rather neatly segwayed into addressing their last unfortunate conversation in this very shop. But better to get a grasp of what Erin did and didn’t know first.

Erin had learned more than a few things about both Mercy and Arthur in one go. He knew it but his vagueness was an all too obvious fishing ploy. A friendly one, but fishing nonetheless. “Convoluted is a good word,” she nodded, hiding the small smirk forming behind a long, drawn out sip. But he clearly wanted to know exactly what she knew. Felt a little weird to be talking so personally to someone she barely knew--but at least it wasn’t her life they were digging into. It could stay that way. Finally, she set the cup down, shrugging. “I was a little--okay, a lot drunk. But you guys were… engaged, if I remember correctly?” She questioned, tapping her thumb against the coffee lid. “I understand now how different Mercy is--actually, ‘understand’ is probably a word I shouldn’t be throwing around. I don’t mean that negatively, trust me. But I hope you can understand why I’m still wrapping my head all around of… that,” she gestured vaguely towards him. Her eyes narrowed slightly, hints of concern bubbling to the surface, and her tone growing a tad sharper. “What’s going on with Mercy, Arthur? She’s okay, right? Can you at least tell me that?”

To say it was uncomfortable sitting in front of a stranger who knew all too much about your own life and private business was a little bit of an understatement. So while Arthur’s front was amicable, a polite if slightly reserved smile there were several guards that lay behind that presentation. He didn’t like people knowing his business, because the more people that knew or got involved the higher the risk of them talking or selling him out was. But she elaborated, and Arthur settled into a role he was just a fraction more comfortable with. The listener. It made it easier to try and process why he even felt compelled to sit down and have this conversation. Endure it. Erin knew too much even with the fragments she did have and that in itself was enough to set him on edge.

“Yeah, we were,” he confirmed, his jaw ticking at the memory of that own revelation a few months prior. His thoughts went to the wedding rings and the note left in the jeep. Left behind just in case Mercy did actually die. The memory soured his next sip of coffee and Arthur ended up placing it on the table and simply wrapping his hands around the cup as a small anchor and focus for himself. Trust me. A phrase he’d heard so many times across the centuries it was almost comical. Trust me. How many times had that ended well? And yet he was in the unfortunate position that he really didn’t have much choice. “Yes, I can appreciate this reality is a lot to process,” Arthur agreed, a deeper meaning to a simple phrase carefully chosen, calculated as most of his actions usually were. He knew because he’d lived that coming to terms over and over and over again, not to mention seeing that reality dawn on people on their own coming to terms with it. “As I’m sure is finding out what Mercy is.”

There was a pause and a subtle flare of a temper that was carefully kept in check, he didn’t appreciate information being demanded of him even if it was out of concern. So he took a moment to stop his temper bleeding over into his tone that remained calm but to the point, “please mind your tone, I’m here because you’re Mercy’s friend and you somewhat have a right to this conversation even if I don’t feel very comfortable with how much you seem to know about me.” Before she could interject or get her heckles up in regards to his statement he held a hand up to give pause before he answered her question “in short, no, she’s not alright. She was murdered at the lake and then came back but there were some complications… Which we’re taking care of… Hence,” he gestured vaguely back to his own mildly bedraggled appearance. “She’s staying with me for the time being until we can get her back to rights.”

A lot to process. That was putting it mildly. Erin lifted her eyes from the table to subtly check around them. People entered and exited with the speed most cafes exhibited. Some stuck around but thankfully not too close to where they sat. “Guess I’m just lucky I got relentlessly pelted with the ‘supernaturals are real’ bombs to help lighten the blow with this particular one.” It was still a surprise. Still centuries of lifetimes and secrets she had no clue were buried within one of her oldest friends.

Erin flinched. She hadn’t expected to be scolded for showing concern for her friend throughout this vague explanation and she sure as hell didn’t appreciate the ignorant hand that went up, presumably to stop her from expressing how the fuck she felt about that. As if she had come searching him out, forcefully sticking her nose into his business when it had all but fallen into her lap very accidentally. That anger returned, swelled, and she did her best to hold back everything but the equally annoyed glare she shot across the table. She could give him the benefit of the doubt here. She had to, she guessed--people grew sensitive when their secrets were exposed or made vulnerable. He was exhausted and she’d apparently touched a nerve. She’d let it slide for now, not that it mattered. As soon as she heard murdered, her anger hissed to a quick, cold death, like a bucket of water had been dumped onto a campfire. “Murdered,” she echoed, unable to stop the way her mouth gaped open. “But she’s--she’s staying with you? So that means she’s actually alive right? She’s okay--or will be? Because of the whole--who--what she is?” She asked, fear and confusion stunting her sentences. How could she be murdered if she was alive? Was that just one of those Valkyrie quirks? She still had so many questions that had gone unanswered from her and Mercy’s evening together. Not as prepared as she thought for this, she realized. “What the fuck? Why? Just--why?”

It was curious to see how different people reacted to the very fundamental pillars of their reality being shifted under their feet. Some leapt in headfirst, others tapped into denial and some became so paranoid about every bump in the night they struggled to function and sometimes you got an eclectic mix between all three. So where Erin glanced around, Arthur sipped his coffee but he couldn’t help the humoured laugh that came upon hearing her remark about her introduction “huh, if I’m honest that’s probably the easiest ways to come to terms with it.”

Perhaps it was fatigue or a combination of all the things that had been happening recently but a typically compliant patience was worn thin, less flexible to accommodation as it might have been otherwise. Arthur in all his years hated one thing. Having his control taken away. Even inadvertently shifting the foundations on which his methodical order and view of life threw him through a loop he didn’t always quite know how to cope with. So having someone demand more information, out of concern or otherwise didn’t set the best of tones. Still the glare was enough that it made Arthur wince, “sorry, I’m- snappy when I’m tired.”

“Yes, murdered” he confirmed giving Erin the time to process that particular reality. The questions that followed were warranted and Arthur sat back, shoulders slumping tiredly but did his best to explain. “Long story short, yes, she’s alive now. Valkyries can’t be killed,” he gauged her expression but her questions provided some clarity might be required “I don’t know how much detail she told you but generally if they do die they’ll uh-- resurrect isn’t quite the right word but it’s the best one I can think of.”

“So the other day she was drowned by some guy-- Nic I think his name was? While fighting some demon squid that was going to end the world or maybe just White Crest… I dunno details were a bit fuzzy there - pronounced dead at the scene, taken to the morgue, spent several hours in Regan’s freezer, came back just before her autopsy was due… Now she’s blind and living at my house for the time being while we try and figure shit out.” It was a lot, but those were the details of it in short.

The moment Erin heard Nic’s name come out of Arthur’s mouth, all the questions she hadn’t asked--hadn’t wanted to ask--about that night fell into place. She heard the rest of the explanation but it took more than a few moments for the words to properly process. Drowned. Woke up in Regan’s autopsy room. Her hands covered her face and she suddenly felt more exhausted than when she’d entered this goddamn coffee shop. “Of course,” she added on a heavy sigh, one that left her deflated right there at that table. They couldn’t just move past this, could they? There had to be just one extra entanglement that snared her right back in when she was trying to help him move on.

“He didn’t mean--” she stopped herself, shaking her head. Fuck, no. She didn’t owe Arthur anything here. It was an accident. Nic wanted to be part of this less than anyone involved. Mercy was fine. Blind, apparently, and probably a little bit traumatized. But fine. Alive. That’s all that they needed to know, but she felt the burn that came with admitting just three words too much. Time for a rapid fire subject change. “She’s blind?” Erin glanced up from her hands suddenly. “How?”

It seemed from where Arthur sat, trying to gauge Erin’s reaction that this was perhaps too much too soon. Typical that in trying to make things better it only seemed to make things worse. Looking away from her he turned his attention to his coffee cup instead as it he might find something helpful to say there. Unfortunately there was nothing but the black earth juice that fuelled most of his days and nights of late. What he hadn’t anticipated was Erin to elaborate regarding this Nic-- and his head lifted sharply “wait, you know him? Mercy wanted to speak to him…” Arthur didn’t really care for the idea, but he respected Mercy enough to afford her some benefit of the doubt.

The change of subject didn’t really go amiss, and Arthur’s brow furrowed a fraction even the memory of that night was horrific and sent a chill down his spine. “Yeah… I got her home from the morgue… Looked like she was crying,” his hands tightened around the mug, his own worry and unabiding fear creeping into his voice. “Then I realised they weren’t tears… It was blood.” He hadn’t slept much, but on the few occasions he’d fallen asleep that image had pervaded his mind, the crimson tracks against her pale skin and a chilling fear gripping his heart of being so helpless that nothing he could do would help. It was a terrifying thought. But Erin already knew too much and he doubted she’d understand that degree of fear.

The panic in Erin’s gut was real, and it only continued to escalate the longer she sat here. God, this whole trip had just been an excuse to get out of the house. Get some fresh air. Revitalize with some coffee. The plan hadn’t been to run smack dab into a wall of problems she didn’t know existed. “I do. He’s a friend.” Someone she’d trust with her life, even after all of this. God, this was exhausting. That fucking squid had ripped apart and ruined more lives than she could keep track of anymore and it was written all over Arthur’s face.

Sinking back into her chair, Erin shook her head again, that flutter-y anxiety that twisted her insides returning with a sharp yank. “I’m sure he’ll reach out to her. When he’s ready. This hasn’t been easy on him either.” But she couldn’t shake the image of Mercy waking up like that. Of that look in Nic’s eyes when he finally came home a week afterwards. Suddenly she couldn’t stomach the thought of another sip of coffee. Just one thing too much. She could practically feel her brain numbing and glossing over. “I’m sorry,” she swallowed, standing up faster than she realized possible. This was too much. “Please--tell Mercy I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help her, or you, you’ll let me know, okay?” She insisted as she gathered her things, trucking steadily towards the door. She didn’t know where she was going but she knew she couldn’t handle this a moment more. “I hope you get some sleep!” she hollered as she hurried through the door.

“Oh… I see-” Arthur wasn’t quite certain what he thought about all this, no, that was a lie he knew exactly what he thought about all this. Erin clearly knew this person well enough to seem to have some idea what they would think about all this. To start trying to make an excuse on this Nic’s behalf. But hearing that he’d reach out sat wrong. Why should this man, this stranger get away with this and be left to his own devices? There was a flare of anger that coiled in his chest at the thought but it was tempered into a simmer. If this was how Erin wanted to play it. So be it.

Arthur sat and watched as any further length of this apparent ‘conversation’ Erin wanted to have was cut short as she pulled the same exact stunt he had last time. Cut and run. Did she know more about this than she’d let on? Was this all just an attempt to get more information and see what had been figured out? They were all questions that ran through Arthur’s mind as he watched this unfold before his very eyes. “Right....” the word was said slowly, and Arthur had no such intent. Erin had done nothing to prove he could trust her and running off like this instead of facing up to things that really needed discussing didn’t count in her favour either.

So the empty holler as she vanished out the door was met with a baleful look of resignation in the direction of the door as it swung shut as Arthur committed himself to finishing the coffee (it was free after all) and stew over the repercussions he wished would be enacted on this stranger who’d dared to cross him and his own. You can only run for so long Nic.

#p: erin #caffeine doesn't fix #para #// This was fun ahaha

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yandere-deredere · 5 years

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monster boyfriend: beelzebub

a/n: for whumptober 2019: shaky hands and monstertober 2019: demon warning: mentions of religious themes and occult, implied unhealthy relationships, implied touch starvation pairing: beelzebub the demon x gender neutral! reader word count: 2113 summary: Who knew someone could get so lonely that they’d be desperate enough to summon a friend?

“Now, darling, why are you so… nervous?”

You took a step back, your foot unsteady as it settled against the creaking of the floorboards. Your eyes frantically flickered here and there, trying to find a way to escape or, perhaps, for an object to use.

There was nothing.

In this empty attic filled with only dust and stray boxes, you couldn’t find an exit or a weapon. The only way out was the trap door with the ladder but that was behind it and you wouldn’t be able to duck and maneuver yourself over there.

No, you were trapped and it was all your fault.

You had thought so foolishly that you could play with the books you had found in this musty attic. They were all dumb occult things with hard covers carved with occult symbols, pages lined with gold and paper heavy and expensive.

You had doubted, at first. Blasphemy and demons weren’t the kinds of things your family members were interested in so you couldn’t help but wonder where these books had come from. Maybe the previous owner of the house? It was a mystery for sure.

You thought nothing of it and read, filling your head with what you had thought were fictional stories or the ravings of a mad lunatic. The books were all about summonings and different demons, about their different hierarchies and their different legends, what they did in the mortal realm, what they were known for.

It was interesting if not mildly gory. It was the kind of horror that you couldn’t help but continue reading even though you were scared shitless; the kind of horror that made you stay up at night, wondering if the shapes you were making out in the dark were really just your imagination.

Soon, the books held you in a sort of trance. Your curiosity had peaked and, suddenly, your thoughts of ‘Surely, these couldn’t be legit?’ turned into ‘But… what if it was?’.

Though the thought of them being real would’ve been absolutely macabre, you still couldn’t help but wonder. You had researched certain things in the books and found allusions of them in the Bible as well as other holy texts and history books about the church.

Certainly, if the book was pure fiction, the author was well-read or, at least, researched the topics thoroughly.

Eventually, you found yourself lonely.

You had never been close to your family, not really, so it wasn’t a surprise that you kept drifting away from them. You had always been an introvert and shy so your ideal day was just locked up in your room. It was easy to drift away from people when you rarely saw them outside of maybe dinner and lunch.

There weren’t any friends in the picture, either. You had never been very good with socializing so, other than classmates that you barely spoke to when unprompted, the only human contact you really had were on screens, in TV shows and movies.

You had always been a fan of fantasy and, after Supernatural and god-knows-what other demon/angel shows, the thought of summoning a friend met with your endless curiosity for the books. If they were real, undoubtedly, you could summon one.

Summon a demon.

It should’ve hit you how dumb that was. Selling your soul for a friend was just about the most desperate thing in the world and were you desperate? Were you that lonely? Did you really crave the touch of another thing so much that you’d be willing to do a stupid (probably hokey) ritual?

The answer was, obviously, yes.

Still, despite your desperation, you still strongly believed that the books were just a fabrication of someone’s imagination, just an exaggeration of religion and what little information it gave on demons and Hell. There was just no way the books were about something real.

So, you went straight to the top. You thought ‘Might as well since it wasn’t even going to work’. You couldn’t summon the leader of Hell itself, of course, so you went one step lower: Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies himself.

It was surprisingly easy to collect the materials because the book was just so vague. Just blood, never about where it's from. Just a sacrifice, never about if it was alive or not. Just candles, a room, symbols to be painted and carved.

It was too easy.

“What? Didn’t you… want to see me?” It continued to speak, pulling you out of your thoughts and making your eyes snap away from your surroundings and to the being in front of you.

As it spoke, its mouth forming the words, its lips lush and its teeth sharp, you couldn’t help but notice that its voice was velvet and smooth too. You were smart enough not to fall for things like that, though. You knew all too well that the thing in front of you was made to be perfect.

Well, perfect in a sense. No matter how much it tried to make itself beautiful, to lull you into a sense of false security, there was still something so off about it.

The demon looked like any other man, its build stocky but obviously muscular. Its body was naked, smeared here and there with blood but you couldn’t focus on that out of fear. Either way, it was a normal, very male, body. Its arms ended in normal unclawed fingers, its hair mussed to look effortless but still handsome. Its smile almost seemed genuine, too.

It didn’t matter. There was something about its eyes, something so cold, so lifeless and dead despite the brilliant blue hue. Its smile, though disguised as genuine, was sharp, almost predatory, like a wolf trying to convince a rabbit not to run.

In this scenario, you were, unfortunately, the rabbit.

It stepped closer “You don’t have to tell me what you want. I know what you want and I’ll give it to you, free of charge.”

You shook your head, taking another shaky step back. There was no way it’d give you what you wanted for free. After all, the book had warned you. Demons never did anything for free. No matter what it was, no matter how little the request, they always took something as payment.

“Okay, you’re right, sweet thing, there is something I want in exchange.” It grinned wider, taking another step closer “Trust me, though, it aligns with what you want so, really it’s not payment at all.”

You couldn’t find your voice. Instead, you continued to stare, frantic at the thought that it was reading your mind. You hadn’t said anything since it had crawled out of the bloody portal you had painted onto the floor so the fact that it had just countered a thought in your head made you scared.

The demon chuckled, its laugh rumbling and deep and almost sinful the way it sent a tingle down your spine “Don’t be scared, darling. The mind-reading thing is just a side effect of the summoning. We’re tied together now, you and me.”

You took another step back and he took two steps forward “You can block your thoughts, don’t worry. I’ll teach you how or those silly little books will tell you.”

You didn’t like how it implied that it would be staying.

“Of course I’d be staying. You’ve summoned me and I’m here to make your…” It chuckled again though, this time, it felt more like it was in on a joke you weren’t a part of “...wish come true.”

You shook your head, trying your hardest to force words out of your throat, except, your mind jumbled and you couldn’t get anything out.

You didn’t want to say anything just in case it was the wrong thing to say. One misconstrued word could lead to a decapitated head or your soul sucked right out of you. It was a demon, something from Hell, with supernatural powers that would put fictional demons to shame.

As a result, you didn’t think it’d have any qualms with torturing you if you had happened to offend it. As one of the Princes of Hell, it had surely seen its fair share of slaughter and carnage. You had even read that it would often incite wars and bring men to murder.

If it could do that without even a shred of pity or sympathy, if it could see blood shed and families torn apart and men killed for nothing, it could surely crush you under the heel of its foot without hesitation.

So, you struggled, throat constricting so tightly that nothing could come out. You wanted to tell him to leave, that you hadn’t thought your actions through, that you didn’t want to be fooled by a demon because you were so vulnerable. Yet, the words wouldn’t leave your mouth.

You tried harder, mouth stuttering, words stumbling over your lips into something incomprehensible. Your eyes watered as you continued to struggle.

You were scared of him. Of course, you were.

It could kill you, end your life, yes, that was true. That wasn’t what you were scared of, though. Dying wasn’t something you feared and, instead, you welcomed it. There were things worse than death, after all, and, now that you’ve summoned him, you knew of them, have read them from those cursed books.

An eternity in Hell, tortured by your worst nightmares, would scare anyone.

And, maybe, that wasn’t the only thing you were scared of. Maybe the reason you were so scared of other people, of reaching out and befriending and building relationships, was also the same reason you were scared of it.

A rough hand pressed against your skin, fingers encircling your upper arm. Your struggle died abruptly and your vision cleared to see that it had taken several steps towards you and that it stood there, only one step away.

The coldness in its eyes gave way to something indecipherable.

“Darling, I won’t hurt you.” The demon’s voice was still smooth, still velveteen, but the seductive tone in it was replaced with something soft and comforting “I promise, I swear, I won’t.”

You knew a promise from a demon was something of an unbreakable vow so you nodded to show you believed It.

It let go of your arm and, suddenly, you craved its touch like some sort of starving man. It had been so long since you had felt a hand so calloused but soft and a touch so strange but gentle.

Instead of completely pulling away, though, it took another step forward and its chest pressed against yours, its skin pressing against the cloth of your t-shirt. It reached down and took your hands.

You hadn’t even noticed that your hands had been shaking. Now, as it held them so loosely in its own, you noticed every tremble of your fingertips and every quake of your palm.

It held your hands tighter, fingers interlocking with yours. It pressed itself closer, the pressure of its chest against yours heavier. It felt warm, almost inhumanly so, but you leaned in anyway, your skin yearning for more touch, more contact, more warmth.

It let go of your hand, wrapping its arm around your waist to pull you closer. It leaned forward, allowing you to curl up against it, face pressed into its neck. You wrapped an arm around its neck to pull it even closer. There was a soft rumble as if you were cuddling with a giant cat instead of a murderous demon.

“I told you, I can make your wishes come true.” The demon whispered temptations against your ear, its breath just as inhumanly warm as its body “I can make the loneliness go away.”

You bit back a whimper, knowing that your desperation would make any price feel like a bargain and it continued, its arm tightening even more “All I want in return is you; all of you, every single part of you, dedicated to me.”

“Say it. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Your grip on its hand tightened and your arm around its neck pulled it closer. You mumbled the words as if shy and scared which, really, you were “B-Be-Beelzebub… I-I’m yours.”

“And stop referring to me in your head like I’m an inanimate object. Anything else will do but I’m not an it or a thing.” It-- He-- They chuckled and you could feel the vibrations of it against your chest “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

Your nod sealed the deal and you burrowed yourself deeper into its arms. The searing pain on your back confirmed it: you were branded as theirs and you would be for god-knows-how long.

#whumptober2019 #no.1 #beelzebub #monster boyfriend #beelzebub x reader #monster boyfriend x reader #original character x reader #oc x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #600+#900+#1200+#1500+#1800+#2100+

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fadefromthelight · 4 years

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No. 22 - Poisoned

Summary: Lucien’s tolerated so much for Alden but he’s finally crossed the line. He doesn’t get to kill his brother and return unscathed.

Read on: Ao3

Lucien’s steps echo through the empty hall of the Oligarchy’s castle, his hands shoved into the pockets of his lab coat. His fingers brush against a needle and vial in them, the glass cold against his touch. The liquid inside pulses against his magic, latching onto anything it can find. He removes his fingers as if it burned him.

He can’t have it contaminated. Not now, not when he needs everything to align impeccably. If he slips up even once, everything will fall apart in his hands. He can’t afford to have that happen.

Julian doesn’t deserve to go through anymore.

After everything Alden’s done to him, done to his family, this is more than fully deserved. Lucien warned him. Alden’s the one that pushed past the limits Lucien set. Maybe Lucien should feel something more than the dull numbness at the prospect of sliding the needle under Alden’s skin, but he doesn’t. He wishes he could say that this will be the worst thing he’s done, but unfortunately he can’t.

He’s done much, much worse.

You could twist it and say it was for his survival, that he had no other choice but blur the lines between creation and destruction. But he decided to grab the very rules of reality and tear them apart, reconstructing them to suit his needs. Cassidy’s name was the one plastered beneath the wing cloning discovery, but the three of them all knew who figured out how to clone magic.

He decided to play god and he was still suffering the consequences. This was just one of them.

And if he’s being honest, he hasn’t stopped.

It was for a different patron, but he’s still manipulating magic in a way that no human should. Alden asked him to recreate magic from nothing and Braith asked him to hone magic to the point it’s a deadly blade. Now he has a solution of magic so refined that it’s more unstable than his magic. And in his lab is one manipulated to the point it no longer resembles any magic he’s seen in his life.

He hasn’t had the chance to use either of them before this moment. Part of him had hoped he wouldn’t find a reason to.

Another part of him relishes in the thought of scientific discovery.

The guard to the prison stops him, holding a hand against his chest. “Lucien.” The guard says his name awkwardly, as if he’s unsure how to address him. “You can’t go beyond this point.”

Lucien looks over to the guard, keeping his gaze purposely lazy and disinterested. His magic cracks against his skin and he shifts a foot back. “On whose orders?”

For a moment, Lucien expected the guard to say Morgan’s name, a reminder of his presence no matter where he goes.

For a moment, he forgot it was his own son who dethroned him.

“Lo—King Briath’s.” The guard forces out, a slight stutter at his slip of tongue. Not that it matters, Lucien wasn’t going to voluntarily speak to Braith. The guard swallows. “He specifically said not to let you in.”

So Braith had made the connections between him and Alden and accurately predicted that Lucien would kill him. Lucien barely listened to Braith on the best of days, the little conversation the two of them had wasn’t going to change anything now. He had no respect for a man who upturned the entire Oligarchy just to prove that he was stronger than Lucien.

None of that matters, it’ll all come out in the end when Lucien Challenges Braith. He’ll let Braith have his fun and then he’ll tear him down from his throne. He’s denied his position as head of the Levine family for long enough, it’s about time he’s done something.

He can’t keep letting Julian take the fall for him.

“That isn’t Lord Braith’s decision to make.” Lucien grins, letting a shard of dark, decayed magic pooling inside of him rest inside it. “There’s something I need to discuss with Alden. We have a bit of a history.”

There’s numerous ways that the guard could decipher his words and he doesn’t elaborate. Anything that the guard decides upon is fine. It’ll shake him up.

The guard pales and won’t meet Lucien's eyes. “He can’t help you with your research.”

Hm, he took the easy way out. It would’ve been more interesting to see the guard trying to explain away the relationship Lucien had with Alden. “He isn’t helping per se,” Lucien reaches into his pocket and removes the needle. He doubt’s that the guard has enough medical knowledge to refute his claims. “I need a sample from him. It’s vital.”

The guard pauses, hesitation painted clearly across his face. “I’ll let you in for a few minutes. Only to grab the sample.”

“Of course.” Lucien lies, the words easily falling from his lips. He wonders when it became so easy to lie.

He wonders if there was ever a time where it wasn’t.

The guard steps to the side and Lucien talks past him, returning the needle to his pocket. His finger brushes against the vial and the magic within flickers. He draws his hand back as if he is burned. He let’s none of this show on his face.

The prison is filled with long halls of bleak grey concrete and too-white lights. His magic crackles against his skin in response. The magic of criminals and the sorts echo against his sense, bitter from anger and resentment.

He could understand those feelings quite well.

He stops before Alden’s cell, tucked in the corner and away from the other prisoners. Alden wielded his words with the precision of a surgeon, they couldn’t risk what he’d say to the others. They couldn’t handle a mutiny that Alden led. They’ve already seen that once.

Alden sits on the thick wooden slab of a bench, his back pressed against the smooth wall. He watches Lucien walk over and stop in front of the door, eyes narrowed just enough to cover the flicker of relief that dances across his face.

Maybe something cracks within Lucien at that moment but no one has to know.

“Lucien.” Alden draws out Lucien's name, unable to hide the shards of ease from entering his voice. His posture relaxes and he leans against the wall. “What brings you down here?”

Lucien presses a hand against the lock and flares his magic. The fragile mechanism melts under his grasp and the door swings open with the sound of clattering metal. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable.” Lucien’s voice is low and flat, edging on bitter and desperate.

Alden swallows, gaze flickering between Lucien and the door behind him. “And where are we going?”

Lucien shoves a hand into his pockets, looking over to the camera trained on Alden cell. He steps over and reaches up with his free hand and brushes it against the lens. The whole thing crumbles under his magic, leaving behind a sparking shell. “Nowhere far.” Lucien turns back to Alden, removing the needle and vial from his pocket.

Alden pales, his hands tightening into a knotted fist in his lap. “Lucien.” Alden says Lucien's name again as if that would change anything. “You don’t have to do this.”

Lucien inserts the needle into the top of the vial, drawing out the pearly white liquid. He fills the needle, far more than enough to kill Alden. He returns the vial to his pocket. “You’ve crossed the line, Alden. I would’ve left you alone if you only listened to me.”

At one point, Lucien considered saving Alden, the twisted feelings inside of him screaming with the thought of killing him. It would've been so easy to unlock Alden’s shackles and stride out with him, no matter what Braith tries to do.

But it’s even easier to slip a needled beneath Alden’s skin.

Alden watches the needle, his eyes following the liquid shift in the shaft. Fear dances in his gaze, unrestraint. “It was necessary.” He shifts, the shackles on his wrist clatter against the wooden bench. It was almost like Alden was uncertain.

“Raymond’s death and Julian’s abuse was necessary?” Lucien’s voice is cold and clipped, the fractured shards of his composure slipping. “Necessary for what?”

“The world deserved to know what we almost discovered.” Despite everything, Alden grins, thin and manic. “And it does.”

“It didn’t.” Lucien walks forward. He places a hand on Alden’s wrist and Alden flinches beneath his touch. “Not like this.”

“Discovery isn’t something you can contain.” Alden’s voice shakes but it doesn’t dent the smile on his face. “It will take everything down with it.”

“My family isn’t some casualty for something as fruitless as discovery.” Lucien rolls up Alden’s sleeve, leaning over him so he couldn't struggle. Alden tries anyway. “They fell because of your decisions and I want to know what they are.”

Alden’s gaze is set on the needle that Lucien has poised over his skin. He’s trembling despite his every attempt to hide it. Alden’s silent, the ambiance of the prison settling over them. Lucien doesn’t move.

Alden sighs, his breath rattling in his chest. “Y’know.” Alden drags his gaze upwards, meeting Lucien’s. His eyes are tired, the normally vibrant green is dulled to something unrecognizable. Something that would be nostalgia on anyone else drifts in his eyes. “I can’t even remember.”

Alden’s lying. Lucien knows that Alden’s lying but there’s no guarantee that he’ll get the truth out of him. Lucien desperately wants to know why Alden killed Raymond, why he even kidnapped him in the first place. But, just like the time Lucien confronted Alden almost six years ago, Alden won’t tell him why.

Part of Lucien knows, the part that Lucien doesn’t want to acknowledge. The part that tears when he pushes the needle into the fragile skin at the crook of Alden’s elbow.

Lucien stares into Alden eyes one last time and presses down on the stopper.

The effect is almost instantaneous. Alden’s magic crackles and lashes out, the tainted decay present for the both of them to see. Lucien tears the needle out of Alden’s flesh and steps back. Alden looks up to him, blood slipping out of his mouth and staining his teeth. His eyes are alight with a twisted, burning magic. “Your brother died thinking you hated him.” Alden spits the words, thick with anger and blood. He has to get in one last barbed comment, one last attempt to rattle Lucien.

Lucien takes another step back, his hand brushing against the bars of the door. “And you’ll die knowing that I hated you.”

Lucien watches as Alden withers with magic beyond his capabilities, magic that threatens to tear into Lucien if he doesn't have a carefully constructed barrier around him. The effects are exactly how Lucien planned; he induced a severe case of lisatheo.

He watches with the jagged edges of a smile as Alden stills, the overwhelming magic dissipating harmlessly into the atmosphere. He turns on his heel and walks down the hall, his steps echoing in the silence left in his wake. He removes his lab coat and drapes it over his arm, the vial clinking against the needle as he walks.

One down, two more to go.

#whumptober2020 #no.22 #poisoned #drugged #OC #writing #tw: character death #tw: involuntary drug use #tw: blood #tw: abuse mention #my writing #faded writing

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natsspammityspamspamham · 4 years

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Dino Watches Anime (April 26)

I haven’t made one of these for a while, and after the first draft went and deleted itself, I wondered whether it was worth making another one (I make these primarily for myself then get really surprised whenever people notice these). During harsh times like these, I find myself being drawn to the cheesiest and the most cringe-inducing shows, but maybe I just like them because you can put them on double-speed without missing a thing because you know what’s going on. It’s like instant noodle broth: satisfying, warming, but you know it’s going to kill your insides with self-crisis. Seriously, I didn’t come to terms that I really, really like romance as a genre until a little while ago.

With that being said, I want to take a short break from romance now.

I often ask myself, “Why are you watching these when you can be watching really good anime?” Well, that’s probably because I don’t want to have my analytical brain on right now. I want to watch an anime that takes two brain cells to enjoy. I only have two. Once I garden some more, maybe then will I get into the stuff I know I will enjoy like Hunter x Hunter (2011)

Things that I just started but couldn’t get into

NHK ni Youkoso! (1/24)

For one, I didn’t want to watch this before because it would’ve hit too close to home. The show’s about a NEET aka a freeloader (not in employment, education, or training), and I’m... almost that description (but that’s mostly because of the pandemic). Really, this show is riddled with paranoia, and it wants you to really know that with its changing art styles to its cynical script lines to its main character honestly needing some help (seriously, he needs help). I read further (aka spoilers) and realized that I probably won’t have fun with this anime right now, and I will never touch the manga because that stuff is even more insane than its adaptation. NHK ni Youkoso is about people who fall between the cracks of normal standard society and their desire to seek their own normal by any means necessary, and during stressful times, I think it belongs on the backburner.

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei (2/12)

After seeing how much I enjoyed Kakushigoto (which will be mentioned later, I just thought, “Wow, I want to see that other really famous work!” I didn’t enjoy it at all. I forgot why I put the series on-hold. It’s about a suicidal teacher who will stop at nothing to die then ask people why they almost killed them. Through a bunch of errors, he ends up becoming some sort of a harem king to his students (and he attracts the weirdos). I enjoyed the lengths Studio Shaft went to to make this anime appear the way it does (which helps in a lot of ways), but I just can’t continue with it until a much later date.

Appare-Ranman! (2/?)

I just lost interest after looking at the rest of the cast. I’m all for being vibrant and out there, but some of those character designs imitate more of a “racial stereotype/caricature”. I’m not saying that I dropped the show only because of that (I’m quite dense when it comes to that), but I didn’t like the characters either. I can’t get behind a show that won’t let me enjoy it a single moment over two episodes.

I’ll pick it up again later (probably)

Free! (5/12)

I feel like they’re shoving fanservice a lot. I try to skip every fanservice scene, and I managed to watch up to episode 5 in less than an hour, and I didn’t even get through them all. But I will say that ending is stuck in my head now. (humming)

This show has taken me at least two attempts to watch so far. Let’s see how many more it takes before I finish/give up!

Darker Than Black (18/25)

I’ll probably finish this one for the sake of finishing it. I just find that the episodic nature gets stale after a while, and the overarching story is often disregarded. In exchange, we do get some fun side stories, character development, and world building, but I’d like to settle down too, you know?

Clannad (1/23)

Yeah, I’m doing that now. I’m going to see whether my feels bones are as strong as they were before... after I take a hiatus because I’m not sure if I’m in the appetite for that kind of romance now that I’ve watched two shoujo in a row.

Sousei no Onmyouji (20/50)

I bet you, someone was like, “Let’s throw all these shounen cliches into a pot then see what comes out!” Bruh, this is bordering that story I wrote when I was 14, and I’m not even dissing this anime. I enjoyed it but need a break now. It’s very cliche, predictable, and honestly, I can see why it has such a low rating. Studio Perriot likes cutting corners sometimes with their long-running series (*stares at Naruto*), and this anime is no exception. Sometimes, it feels like a visual novel. “We don’t need to animate anything if she’s so fast that no one can see her.” Dang, but it gets repetitive. It also has a magical girl power that only works when the main couple does it? Cool, but that also gets repetitive. I just didn’t see myself watching the same thing another 30 times (at least right now).

Maison Ikkoku

I’m actually on the fence about continuing this one. It’s really sweet, but I’ve had my fill of romance. I have been wanting to watch some more Rumiko Takahashi works though. There’s no reason for me not to continue this. It gives me strong Princess Jellyfish vibes (which I should also finish).

Recently Finished

Itazura na Kiss

Just... end my suffering. It’s not worth it. The thing about shoujo anime is that I watch it late at night when my brain is at its worst when it comes to analyzing or taking in any emotional circumstances. Then I asked myself, “Would I want any young, impressionable people to watch this?” And my first thought was “F**K NO!” This anime was an absolute trainwreck. As my Discord friend put it “It’s so bad, yet you can’t look away!” But what makes this anime unique? What sets it apart? It shows life after high school. Just like Clannad, it shows that life is more than your secondary education. There is more to life than just being a teenager. I’m not saying these characters ever grew though because that’d be a FAT JOKE.

Episodes 1-13: Girl gives boy a love letter. He laughs and doesn't even want it and goes "no thanks". Girl gets upset. Then they find out they're living under the same roof after the girl's dad made them a house out of popsicle sticks (because the dads are childhood friends). She keeps trying to push herself onto him, and his mom joins in and is plotting so much more than you'd expect. The best part is that this main girl already has a childhood friend who's like "please marry me. I'll cook for you, work for you, take a bullet for you, slice my head off if it means you won't chip a nail--" then the girl replied by chasing after the guy who calls her stupid on a daily basis and genuinely believes she can't do anything.

Episodes 14-25: Guy gets dragged to his own wedding and generally does not care for the girl unless she’s either not looking or is on death’s bed. He practically deserts her every other time, and we’re supposed to think it’s romantic when he finally gives a crap about his wife (even when she’s pregnant). The show constantly reminds you that even other characters have doubts that our main character cares about anyone other than himself and his aloofness. They have a bunch of missed affairs including a hoe that tries to leave her husband on her honeymoon to get with Mr. Aloof and a nursing student that genuinely cares about MC and the fact that her husband doesn’t care about her at all.

The moral of the story of this anime: If you chase after somebody long enough, they will cave in and marry you even if they don’t like you, want you, insult you, bully you, or generally show all the signs of an unwilling partner.

Anyway, this anime is crap. I can’t believe I watched it. I want those few hours back (I fast-forwarded a lot, okay?) I can’t believe I finished it. Looking back makes me want to press undo. Having this under my history is a shame to my family. Even if I was sleepy and generally out of it, that’s no excuse for choosing this. Sayonara

I will say that Daisuke Hirakawa and Nana Mizuki did give good character voices despite the circumstances. That, and I haven’t heard from Hirakawa besides those couple of scenes from School Days (which... is a different type of romance), Free! (which I dropped when his character joined), that gumball scene from Jojo, and that introduction to him being the new Demon Slayer villain. I didn’t realize he was that old though.

Special A

This is one of the anime that my sister watched, and I thought, “I need to be reminded of what a somewhat healthy relationship can be” I wasn’t disappointed because the last anime left such a bad taste in my mouth that literally anything could’ve soothed the aching wound which was bad decision making. Even under regular circumstances, I probably still would’ve enjoyed it, but since it came at the right time, I give it an extra nod of approval. I also never realized that the second opening was inadvertently drilled into my brain because I kept overhearing my sister watching it. Now that I’ve grown up, I realize I was listening to the voices of some of my favourite seiyuu. Go figure.

The story was really sweet with characters that I genuinely liked by the end (not my favourite cast by a very long shot, but it was slightly above average). It was slightly above average for me in a lot of ways (ironically), and it was enjoyable. The art is very fitting for its time, the music was very... ordinary, and the story was simple enough that you knew exactly what was going to happen at any given moment. This show should be titled: Special A(ppreciation for those brave people who have fallen in the friendzone; we’ll get ‘em next time).

Akatsuki no Yona OVAs

Unlike the actual TV series, this stuff actually ends conclusively without ending on the CLIMAX OF THE BIG ARC. SERIOUSLY, I WAS ROBBED. You can say, “There’s a perfectly good manga right there.” Shut up. I want my fight scenes animated with a big helping of a strong female lead. It gave me a sudden appreciation for Hiro Shimono and his character Zeno who literally just inserted himself in last minute in the anime (but these OVAs perfectly explain everything). You probably shouldn’t watch the anime without watching these OVAs because they’re canon, funny, and touching at times. It enhances the series.

According to the animation, we know it can do fight scenes. Give us another season, cowards! Actually, it’s Studio Perriot, so if we ever get it, it might be two stickmen duking it out.

Haikara-san ga Tooru Movie 2

You know, I really enjoyed the movie. The first one. This one? Not so much. Actually, I felt so done. I was looking forward to this so much. It’s like going to a restaurant, expecting really good pasta, and then being served some leaves from the weeds out back. Eventually, it tastes better when you add some dressing and cheese, but it still isn’t a bowl of pasta. This show casts aside everything I like about it (present-tense because they didn’t kill everything of it) and leaves one little inkling of its valued ideas. Instead, we get a romance-chasing movie that feels a bit more like an amnesia fiction that’s slightly higher quality than usual. I can’t say I regret watching the movie. There were some redeeming qualities, but they jumped from a 9/10 to a high 6/10 that managed to squeak itself into an overall 7/10.

(This gif is from the first movie, but I can’t find any from the second movie anyway)

Currently Watching (Not Seasonal)

Samurai Champloo

This anime is a staple of Shinichiro Watanabe, and after this, I will probably watch Cowboy Bebop, Carole & Tuesday, and Space Dandy. I did enjoy Sakamichi no Apollon and Zankyou no Terror.

Plus, after all that romance, I need some samurai slaughter. The fight scenes and the music get me every time. I don’t even need to say anything else about the anime. The fight scenes are enough to watch alone.

#dino watches anime

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squadlessgeek · 5 years

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Title: When He Sees Me

Summary: human au ; logan is nervous and overthinking when roman sets him up on a blind date. based on the song “When He Sees Me” from Waitress, and this wonderful animatic by @voidsides / @artfromthevoid

Warnings:

Word count: 2,435

Pairings: Logicality (Logan x Patton) and background Prinxiety (Virgil x Roman)

Tag List: (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed) Tag List: (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed) @monikastec @persepinecone @horsesquid @sassyandmessy @ilivetoexist @lizaelsparrow @galaxy-warping @insanityandimperfection @sander-fander-sides @swlotakulady34 @llamaavocado @applecannibal @helloisthisusernametaken @wildhorsewolf @justanotherpurplebutterfly @beautifully-terribly @awkward-avocado-of-death @ab-artist @toujours-fidele @an-awkward-gay @anaveragegay @gingergiraffe101 @i-just-punched-malfoy @musikasworld @constantstateoftired

Read it on AO3

The ringing in Logan’s ears almost drowned out the excited giggling from Roman, the amused snickers from Virgil. Almost. He blinked a few times, shook his head, even pressed the tip of a fingernail into the pad of his thumb hard enough to hurt, hoping to wake up from some sort of awful dream. None of the above worked.

“I’m sorry, you what?” He asked finally, brows drawn together and staring Roman down like he’d just dealt the worst betrayal in the history of their friendship.

Roman raised a hand to his face and laughed behind it. He lounged carelessly on their sectional sofa, his boyfriend of three years, Virgil, settled in beside him. The three had been roommates since college, and while being the third wheel was occasionally awkward and undesirable for Logan, they were his best and only friends, and it just made more sense to keep their living situation the same throughout the years; economically, of course.

“I set you up! He’s so cute, Lo, look!” Roman tried to show Logan a picture of the mystery man, but Logan brushed him aside. He looked to Virgil for help, who only shrugged.

“It’s just a date,” Virgil said from behind the screen of his phone. Logan gawked at him. The most apprehensive, cautious person Logan has ever known, somehow calm about the situation. Of all people, Logan would’ve expected Virgil to understand.

Logan took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses, turning towards the staircase that led to the bedrooms upstairs. “I’m not going,” he said. Roman complained loudly, hopping up from his seat to follow his roommate upstairs. “End of discussion. You can’t just— I don’t understand what the thought process behind this decision was.”

“He’s cute, and single! See, you two have so much in common already.” Logan rolled his eyes and stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to look at Roman. “I swear, you’ll like him. Even if you don’t work out romantically, you two could still be adorable as friends. Plus... I think he’d be good for you.”

Logan squinted down at Roman, the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out what that could mean. “Good for me?”

“You know what I mean. You need to get out more, meet new people. You seriously smell like an old, wet book. That’s not even an insult, it’s just the truth. Right? Back me up, V.”

“I’m not part of this,” Virgil called from the couch.

“Whatever,” Roman continued. “In any case, you should go.” He reached for Logan’s hand, who only resisted a little while Roman tugged him back downstairs. “I know you’re scared, but—“

“Scared?” At the bottom of the stairs once again, Logan pulled his hand away from Roman, shaking his head. “Please. I’m not scared.” Roman raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of his lip twitching up into a skeptical smile. “I’m not! It’s just— you don’t really know him, right? You only recently met him. He could be dangerous. He could be unstable, he could turn out to be some stalker with psychopathic tendencies, he could be anyone!” As Logan rambled on, he paced around the living room, only working himself up even more. Roman kept trying to interject, and Virgil, now interested, opted for watching this scene play out rather than keeping his eyes glued to his phone.

“Lo, he’s sweet—“

“What if we sit at a booth and he wants to sit beside me instead of across? What if he talks too much, or too quickly, and I’m not interested in what he has to say, or worse, I can’t understand what he’s saying at all? What if he asks me too many questions, tries to pry into my personal life before I even know him? There are so many things— you don’t understand, he could prefer Coke instead of Pepsi, he could eat Oreos the wrong way, he could prefer the movie over the book, he could drink his coffee with way too much sugar. Oh, my god, he could be colorblind! How untrustworthy is that?!”

Logan only stopped his tangent once he actually looked at the expressions on his friends’ faces. They looked at him like he might explode, like he was crazy, and it made his entire body tense.

“So,” Roman cautioned, “You’re scared.”

There was a beat of silence as Logan pushed his hair back, regained his composure. And yet his voice cracked the slightest bit as he breathed, “Terrified.”

Admitting his fears was never his strong suit. Admitting anything, really, was quite a feat he was not too familiar with. He let himself sink onto the other end of the sectional, removing his glasses briefly to rub at his face. Virgil sat forward in his seat and placed a tentative hand on Logan’s knee.

“I’m just being cautious,” Logan sighed, sure that Virgil was going to comment on how crazy he was acting.

“I know,” was what he said instead. Logan looked up at him, meeting his eyes, watching that familiarly hesitant smile. “But I don’t think you’re afraid that you’ll hate him. I think you’re afraid that you’ll like him.”

Logan felt his face grow warm and averted his gaze to the carpet, Roman "Oooh”-ing dramatically from the other side of the couch. He quieted with a sharp look from Logan, but the words still hung heavy in his mind. He was afraid of so many things, mostly of the unknown. Of what he could never be sure about. Of ifs and buts and maybes. And this whole thing was chock full of the unknown. But maybe, facing his fears wouldn’t be so bad, because in a way, it would calm them. At least he could be sure.

“There is probably one thing you should know,” Roman said, snapping Logan out of his thoughts. “Patton is colorblind.”

And so the unknown becomes the known.

And in a way, it’s comforting.

Roman According to him he’s wearing a baby blue sweater and overalls. Cute. He’s got round glasses and just an absolute mess of freckles, and he literally lights up a room when he walks in - you can’t miss him. 10:22am

Virgil we told him you would probably be the only person on the whole block wearing a tie. he’s excited that you both wear glasses. good luck lo. u got this. 10:28am

Logan sighed to himself as he scanned the messages in the group chat the three of them shared. He decided against correcting Roman on his incorrect use of the word “literally,” and instead put his phone on silent and tucked it back into his pocket. He didn’t want to come across as rude if it went off in the middle of this... interaction. He preferred not to call it a date. Calling it a date made it real in a way that Logan would rather avoid for now. Just until he knew more.

When it was his turn in line, he ordered a coffee, sixteen ounces, black. As the barista rang him up and took his card, he decided that this was ridiculous. He shouldn’t have come. He should have stayed at home, made his own coffee, gotten some work done. Instead he decided to spend the day standing in a cafe full of people nothing like him, for a stranger that might not even show up. A stranger who might be wrong for him in so many ways, who might not be worth the anxiety of an ordeal like this.

He could have Roman apologize for him, and it would be fine, everything would go back to normal and he would never have to think about the colorblind stranger again. He had more to lose from staying than he did from leaving. He thanked the barista as she handed him his cup, and turned back to the door with full intention of going home.

But then he understood what Roman meant.

Just as he turned toward the door, someone else walked through it. His eyes, behind round wire frames, held a mix of hope and nerves, and didn’t try to hide the fact that they were looking for something in particular. Freckles dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose; if one were to focus they would notice that the little dots continued down his neck and beneath his sweater. Baby blue. Accompanied with white overalls.

You can’t miss him.

Logan’s stomach twisted, especially as the nervous and hopeful eyes landed on him. Too late. As he walked towards Logan, the latter panicked. He could slip past him, quickly walk out, get into his car, and leave. Or he could pretend to be someone else, despite the description his friends provided. Logan? Who’s he? Never heard of him.

And yet.

“Hi! Are you Logan? I like your tie.”

He found himself answering, “Yes. Thank you.” He managed to recover enough to extend his free hand, blinking away the initial shock from seeing him. “Patton, right?”

The handshake was accepted, though not before Patton gave him a funny look, like it was an odd greeting. Had he already somehow messed up? But he was smiling, in a way that was almost painfully genuine, so evidently things weren’t starting off too poorly. “That’s me! Should we pick out a table?” Logan let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Table, not a booth. Good start. Logan preferred plain chairs over booths any day.

“Yes, let’s. Are you going to order anything?” He asked, gesturing to the counter where he’d gotten his coffee. Patton shook his head and held up a reusable cup that would have matched the shade of his sweater if it weren’t for the countless stickers decorating it. The contents looked very chocolatey.

“I brought my own!” he said, as he picked a table and sat down, Logan following his lead. “It’s just a milkshake; caffeine has the opposite effect on me, makes me tired.” Okay, while sugary milkshakes in the morning were a questionable dietary choice at best, at least his coffee order wasn’t some complicated, elaborate, unhealthy thing. “So, I’ve heard lots about you from Roman,” Patton said, sitting cross-legged in his chair. It didn’t look comfortable. Logan felt himself break into a cold sweat, wondering what his roommate would have said about him.

“Oh?” He tried his best to sound casual, collected.

“Only good things, don’t worry. Well… Sort of. I mean, you know Roman, he can make everything out to be way more dramatic than it actually is.”

Logan nodded at that, sighing to himself. The amount of insects he’s had to let outside in order to quiet Roman’s shrieking… “Well, what sort of things did he tell you?”

Patton twirled his straw between two fingers, his eyebrows drawing together as he recalled the information. Every expression he made was very pronounced, like he wore every emotion and thought out on his sleeve. Logan couldn’t believe Roman would see these two people, entirely opposite of each other, and think that they would be completely compatible for one another. “Um… well he said you’re very focused, and stubborn. And smart. Very smart. And that you know the answer to just about any random question you could think of.”

Logan couldn’t help his small twitch of a smile. Roman called him smart. And the last statement was true enough; he could recall several late nights when he’d get a knock on his bedroom door and Roman or Virgil would poke their head in, ready to ask some inane question. One of his favorites was when Virgil asked if bees sneeze. They don’t, by the way. They lack noses, as well as mouths and lungs. “He also said that you were nervous about this date,” Patton continued, before sipping his milkshake with an amused glint in his eyes. Logan stiffened. “It’s okay! I was pretty nervous too. It’s been a while since my last date, so…” He trailed off as Logan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Patton’s confession of his own nerves should have helped to calm Logan’s, but it didn’t.

“I… don’t tend to do anything that may come with a high risk,” he said. “With things like this, there’s so much unknown. And I’m much more comfortable sticking with things I already know. If I’m completely candid, I almost didn’t come. And I almost left before you arrived.”

While Patton so far had worn most of his emotions in his expression, now there seemed to be something he was hiding, though not very well. Logan could tell by the small, forced smile, and the way he looked down at his cup, that what Logan admitted had stung in one way or another.

“It’s nothing personal,” Logan said quickly, for some reason eager to reassure him in a way that he usually never cared to do with anyone else. “Roman probably told you that I appreciate new information, I like to learn as much as I can. Well, I was… nervous… because of the unknown. Because I didn’t know anything about you. But I think… I think I’m willing to learn.” Patton’s genuine smile had returned, at least a little bit, and his eyes flitted down to the table. Logan followed his gaze and saw that he had subconsciously rested his hand on top of Patton’s while he spoke. Warmth flooded into his face and he pulled his hand back, apologizing softly.

Patton giggled, the most musical sound Logan ever heard. “It’s okay. I liked it.”

His happiness was infectious; Logan definitely understood what Roman meant about lighting up a room.

And, worse, he understood what Virgil meant the night before. I think you’re afraid that you’ll like him. Facing one fear means facing a hundred more, each more terrifying than the last. If Patton had been unlikeable from the moment they met, Logan would have walked out of that cafe having lost nothing. But instead, he left feeling as if he’d gained something.

And everything that could be gained, could also be lost.

Before they parted ways, they exchanged information. Their phone numbers, and Logan had also given Patton the link to his blog, since the latter grew excited when it was mentioned, and insisted on reading it. No one had ever been excited to read his blog before.

Just as Logan arrived back at the apartment and pulled his phone from his pocket to unsilence it, a new notification from a new contact was displayed on the screen.

Patton When can I see you again? 12:02pm

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roseamongroses · 4 years

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W.A.L: “How to Love a Forest Fire” (10)

Summary: Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins.Neither cared much for staying trapped.So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no.Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

Vibes/ Tags:time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

Warnings: Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries, Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some dissociation

Characters: Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

Brown hair fell to the ground, the scissors snipping the final burned patches from Eden’s head. And he...stared, he wasn’t sure what he was staring at. Maybe at the new scars that littered his skin, maybe at the dark curtain that swallowed half his face whole, only one slitted eye blinking back. It was probably the scales.

“Eden?”

Eden flinched, seeing Roman appear in the mirror beside him, or maybe he was already there--Eden wasn’t sure, he could never be sure.

“Did I scare you?” Roman’s face was lined with worry.

“Does it matter?” Eden snapped, feeling that anger flood him all at once. It skimmed the surface, feeling it sharp on his tongue--

“Yes it matters,” Roman said, his words soft, far too soft, “I care about you.”

At those words, Eden felt a weight settle on him, the scissors slipping from his fingers and he sighed into his hands, “And why would you do a god-awful thing like that.” he said, with a particular cruelness, “I get that I was a new shiny thing when we first met, but I’d honestly would’ve thought you’d get bored of it by now.”

The color washed from, Roman’s face and he stepped away, “We’re partners, Eden,” Roman said, tone clipped, “ I thought…” he shook his head, “Excuse me if I displayed any unnecessary concern,” he turned on his heel, “Dinners ready, asshole.”

And for some reason, that didn’t lift the weight at all.

---

Eden couldn’t exactly ignore Dot’s stare.

She normally blinked, or in her case mimicked blinking, out of habit of being around humans, but tonight she didn’t even bother doing that. Her wide eyes watching Eden carefully eat the grounded mush she made and wince at the strong bite of whatever the hell drink the Stranger came back with. Eden also couldn’t ignore the painfully empty space next to him where Roman normally sat.

He tried.

“It’ll be a full moon soon,” She said, gazing out the window as if she could pierce the crisp shadows of the caves to remark on the sky itself.

Eden followed her gaze, bored, “And I should care, why?” he said, pushing around a suspiciously shaped thing in the mush.

She made an odd clicking sound, “Honestly that man,” she said, shaking her head, “I should’ve expected that he didn’t tell you. He’s so touchy nowadays,” she made a show of closing her eyes, “But unlike him, I have no reason to stress you out unnecessarily, so I guess there’s no harm in telling...tomorrow perhaps. ”

“Tell me what…?” Eden asked, tense. It wouldn’t be the first time the Stranger “forgot” to tell him something. It was always fucking terrible.

“How far along are you in your history?” She asked, changing the subject.

“Somewhere after the mass extinction of Unicorns, but before the first humans.” He said, expression grim.

She matched his grim expression, “Condolences.” she offered, “But, that is when magic folk first began, so it is necessary--no matter how dreadfully boring it all is. It’s important since most of what we know of the Goddess when she was awake comes from that period.” she continued and Eden dropped his utensils knowing it was probably going to be a lengthy one.

“The Aleseners, Sanders, among many others--- were among the first and it was a prosperous time, but the Goddess grew bored and slept.”

“I thought they didn’t know why she slept,” Eden commented.

“Old men claim they don’t know a lot of things,” Dot retorted, “We may not know why she slept, but it was quite obvious that she was quite prideful in her creations and that was somewhat connected.”

“There are numerous songs and accounts recording how she preened with each folk, with Aleseners she loved how we glittered, how we were always watching her. With Sanders she adored their songs and how they matched her voice-- making the earth alive of her greatness. With the watch-dogs, she would often bring stars closer to Earth, to watch their skin light ablaze with energy---and so on--,” she said, the story flashing through her eyes with the care and intensity of one who studied a subject for hours for the same answers.

“But,” she said, “One day she created humans--by mistake most likely. Creatures who don’t look like her, don’t sound like her, and worst of all, don't acknowledge her one bit--not even in the most primal of ways--and--” her voice was strained, “They fascinated her, but we didn’t understand---we obsessed over it, we argued over it, but we never asked. ” She paused for a moment, “I don’t think we wanted the answer.”

“Why do you think that?” Eden said, trying to sound bored.

“It was a different time, an extremely political time, where a lot of old families were used to being cared for by the Goddess. ” She sighed, “No one wanted to admit that she didn’t love us anymore, they still don’t even as we’re dying off,” she stirred her own mush, “And I don't blame them either, it does hurt to acknowledge something you don’t understand yourself.” she mused, nostalgic.

“Doesn’t…” Eden frowned “Doesn’t it seem like they wasted a lot of time,” his nose curled, “Why not ask and get it over with?”

“Yes...that sounds like a brilliant idea,” Dot scooped up her mush, with a pleased grin, “Sanders is on the roof, darling.” she pinned him with an expectant gaze.

Eden inhaled, sharp, “Point taken.”

---

Roman’s legs hung off the stone roof. He let the distant village lights wash over him trying to resist the tell-tale pull off sleep, most likely the Stranger was back from whatever he was doing.

He threw his shawl back over his shoulders, before freezing, “How did you get up here?” he balked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Eden winced.

“Why am I not surprised,” Roman muttered, rolling his eyes. He didn’t invite Eden to sit down, but he didn’t protest when they did. Their shoulders brushing, legs pressed close, but their hands barely touching--normally they would be touching.

It was so odd how normal it had become.

“Are you mad?” Eden asked in a way that you knew it was a question, but you didn’t know what he was really asking.

“What do you think?”

“I think…” Eden started, and Roman was painfully aware of his stare, “That you’re upset. I know that I was an asshole, but I don’t know what I did differently this time--then any other time.”

“I…” Roman frowned, “Do you really think I’m that shallow?” He said, “I know I’ve made jokes, but...Do you really think I’m only playing around with you? That’ll I’ll get bored?”

“Sometimes I do,” Eden admitted, it’s truth unpleasant and heavy on his tongue as he watched Roman’s face crumple, “But I expect that from everyone. I’m not exactly known for my pleasant and engaging personality.”

“I think you’re pleasant,” Roman defended—promptly forgetting his role of being upset at at Eden.

Eden raised an eyebrow at that, “Visually, maybe,” he said dry.

Romans eyes shot wide, and he sputtered, “Not like that, I don’t think you’re—I mean—“

“You don’t think I’m attractive?” Eden cocked his head, disbelieving,” Are you that deep in denial, Roman?”

“I’m a gentleman.”

“You make an obscene amount of dick jokes.”

“I make a reasonable amount of dick jokes, but--” Roman sighed, “When someone brings up you being … you always seemed…” Roman was unsure, “I guess I didn’t know if you were uncomfortable with it or...bored?”

Eden raised an eyebrow at that, “Why bother though?” He said,“Again—I’m entirely unpleasant.”

“I wouldn’t say entirely, but you have your moments. You’re reliable and It's been awhile since I could rely on anyone.” Roman looked embarrassed, “That makes me sound desperate, doesn’t it? But with you, I guess I kinda am...”

“Still…” Eden said, quiet, a foul taste clung to his throat, but he continued regardless, “I don’t have feelings for you, I’m only following orders.”

Roman’s laugh was breathless, “I’m fine with that,” he said, legs kicking in a carefree manner, “I’m not a very smart man, Eden, If this is the only way to have your company...I’ll take it.”

“You-I--” Eden groaned, “Christ--You can’t sa-- You’re a fucking mashochist.” he said, his chest warm as he looked away, “Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.”

Shoulders brushing, legs pressed close--the hard stone roof digging into them uncomfortably, hands not touching--normally they’d be touching. But it was fine if they weren’t.

It was fine if Roman was stuck playing student with the Stranger forever, even if he knew it was another stupid game, another stupid councilman seeking answers where he shouldn’t. It was fine if he wasn’t the smartest son, it was fine if he wasn’t the strongest.

All he wanted was to cling onto these feelings a little while longer. Cling onto trust, cling onto breathing deeper breaths, cling onto Eden a little while longer before it all goes to shit.

He’s fine.

---

Logan meditated among the rock for a long time, the sun crept and plunged into the horizon for days on end, him unmoving. Patton faithfully at his side. It was a brewing type contemplation, not one of patience. It was merely building, stirring, and becoming a bitter tune on his lips. When he opened his eyes, he stretched his legs and met the ancient gaze of the caves before him.

It took him awhile to convince the mountain to comply, but he had done it.

He made the needed adjustments.

#ts sides #sanders sides #roceit #deceit sanders #roman sanders #ts deceit #ts roman #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #Winners Among the Losing

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zdbztumble · 5 years

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“Kingdom Hearts II” revisited, Part IV

Having said last time that I don’t understand how any of the first four Disney worlds could be considered filler, I can absolutely understand how the last four could be. I suspect that it’s these worlds, at least on the first pass, that give this game its reputation for Disney filler. The reasons why aren’t hard to spot: it’s a case of formula and stagnation combining to bring the larger story down into a fun but overlong lull.

As I said in Part III, the first of the Disney worlds follow logically from Yen Sid’s briefing, and illustrate the competing villain factions. Disney Castle represents a turning point, with Maleficent getting personally involved and striking at a world that should have been off-limits. I don’t object to the placement of Disney Castle in the line-up; the story needed a step up in stakes at that moment. But there is a total lack of follow-up from there. Agrabah, Port Royal, and Pride Rock all play out in the same way so far as the larger story is concerned; Pete shows up with some Heartless, has almost nothing to do with whatever it is the local villain is up to, and Sora and the local Disney heroes clean up the mess. The one deviation from that formula is Halloween Town, where Maleficent again takes a personal hand and her past history with Oogie Boogie is capitalized on, but it amounts to the same basic formula.

Where this issue is most apparent is in Pride Rock. Some of the worlds before this see Pete discussing how this or that character would make a good Heartless; in Pride Rock, the local Disney villain actually becomes one. That is, on paper, a major escalation, and a significant achievement for Maleficent’s forces. But the presentation of that moment utterly fails to convey that, because Pete and Scar have virtually no interaction. There’s no seduction or temptation for Scar to embrace the powers of darkness and become a Heartless, no equivalent to Maleficent’s conversations with Jafar, Hades, and Riku in KH I. Everything in Pride Rock plays out as if nothing were unique here, as if no advancement had happened; Pete’s just there, and he’s almost casual in the way he declares Scar to be a Heartless.

Really, Pete’s continued presence speaks to the problem. Maleficent’s threat that Timeless River represented his last chance should have been a real threat; after his failure there, he should have been banished to sentry duty at their hideout or something like that, while Maleficent saw to all the rest of the Disney worlds personally, gradually increasing the threat and the stakes. Meanwhile, Organization XIII could provide at least one major disruption or counter to her plans, keeping them involved. Instead, the Organization puts in no appearances in these worlds, and the only mention of them that I remember is Sora asking Nala if she’s seen anyone in dark cloaks. Whatever the merits and demerits of each individual world (and we’ll get to that in a second), the end result is that the central plot of KH II is absent for four whole worlds, except for the cutscenes tied to Kairi.

And speaking of Kairi - as good as her reintroduction to the story is in the prelude, the game takes too long to bring her back into the proceedings after Sora awakens. The reference to her at the end of Port Royal is adorable, as is the mention of her in the Pride Lands but at least one cutscene, placed somewhere within the first few Disney worlds, was needed. The long absence of DiZ and “Ansem” from the plot is felt too - not as strongly for me, though that’s a personal thing.

When Kairi does finally reappear, we get a good expansion of her character. In one short scene with Pluto and Axel, she’s shown to be brave, intuitive, and determined to set out on her own and be a part of the action. More of that side to her character would have been good to see, in this and other games, but at least this one has it in some capacity. (This scene also serves to disabuse any notions of Axel’s character; a man prepared to kidnap Sora’s lady love to use as bait in an ill-thought plan to get Roxas back is not any sort of hero.)

(For those of you who play through the worlds based on villain level, and who try and play in-character as Sora, Kairi’s cutscene being placed where it is made my path forward after Agrabah an agonizing decision. On the one hand, Twilight Town opening up would be a clear sign that there’s something there worth investigating; on the other hand, Sora couldn’t possibly know at that point that Kairi is there, and the remaining Disney worlds are all populated by old friends of his. In the end, I stuck to following villain level, but it was tough to settle on a plan.)

Now, as for the Disney worlds on their own merits...

Atlantica is bad. I don’t have any inherent objection to a combat-free musical world, and I don’t even hate “Swim This Way;” get rid of the lyrics and it’s a fairly innocuous instrumental track. But the original story for Atlantica written for KH I borrowed liberally from the actual movie plot; to go through an abridged version of that plot here is repetitive, and devoid of any of the elements that tied the world to the larger KH story in the first game. Even more than the 100 Acre Wood, I think this would have been a great candidate for a world not to repeat. KH III’s later decision to keep Ariel involved as a Summon instead is one of the few things I can unequivocally say that game did better than KH II.

I can also say that KH III did a far better job with the Pirates of the Caribbean material. On an aesthetic level, there’s no contest. The size of the world, its design and color scheme, animation of characters (though there’s still some uncanny valley issues), movement and gameplay options, Jack’s VA and original dialogue - even the music, despite the absence of Zimmer’s main theme, all made an incredible leap forward in KH III compared to what the starting point was. I’d go so far as to say that KH II’s Port Royal is, aesthetically, the weakest in the game, and possibly the entire series (though Wonderland could give it a run for its money, at least on looks.)

The bigger problem with Port Royal, at least on the first pass, is the way it handles the movie it’s based on. It’s in Port Royal where I see clearly, for the first time, the approach to adapting Disney movies that would become the detrimental standard. What we have here is an uninspired abridgement of Curse of the Black Pearl, easily the most straightforward adaptation of a Disney movie in this game, with possibly the least amount of effort made to accommodate the greater KH story (we’ll get to the competition for that title next). The abridgement itself is careless in its cuts, leaving certain elements of the world’s story confusing, awkward, or arbitrary. Dialogue is lifted wholesale from the film and delivered with less than compelling conviction by the stand-in VAs.

Pete’s limited role in Barbossa’s schemes has already been mentioned, but this world was the first where I felt that little effort was made to give Sora a role in the proceedings. As happened with infuriating frequency in KH III, Sora and his friends are basically along for the ride here, the plot of the movie playing out around them without their having any real bearing on it. The two things you can give Port Royal over later games’ worlds is that at least Sora is involved with the final battle against Barbossa, and that this world introduces his pirate fantasies (and we’ll touch more on those in a moment). To go back to KH III’s take on Pirates - most of the same problems (and those two saving graces) exist there too, but in the context of that game, The Caribbean in KH III was one of the less frustrating worlds when it came to Sora’s role (or lack thereof), so it was a bit of a bright spot. In the context of KH II, Port Royal having all these problems on the first pass means it sticks out like a sore thumb.

Honestly, if they wanted to adhere to the film so badly, I would’ve preferred that Pete and the Heartless not show up at all. The first pass could have had the skeletal pirates as the only villains, and Sora could leave that world wondering why the Keyblade would have brought him there if there were no Heartless to be had. Cut back to Port Royal, and you’d see a figure in a black cloak and hood wandering around, giving Organization XIII a badly-needed tease in this section of the game.

And, if I can nitpick - Sora and his friends explicitly state that Port Royal looks “so different” from any other world they’ve been to. Why would this game not have them adopt disguises? Give KH III another point for that one, though I think it would have been more appropriate - and funnier - if Donald and Goofy had turned into a real duck and dog.

The other Disney world that really has issues with movie adaptation and providing Sora material is Pride Rock. While it’s somewhat less rigid an a recap of The Lion King than Port Royal was for Black Pearl, the absence of any scene that builds to Scar’s succumbing is emblematic of these worlds’ inability to loosen up and be original in their material when it’s called for. Sora’s first encounter with Nala offers some fresh plot, but by the time Simba appears, we’re locked into an uninspired highlight reel of Lion King’s third act. Some lapses of logic plague this world too (the biggest one: why would Sora and his friends run away from the hyenas when they first come to Pride Rock? They have weapons and magic. Pete being there shouldn’t mean anything unless he summons an insurmountable swarm of Heartless). And this is the world that handles Sora the worst in the first pass - or at least, it’s the most frustrating of them in how it handles Sora. There’s the nonsensical and out-of-character plot of his to become king, but more than that, this world has so many opportunities to let Sora matter that aren’t taken. He’s the one who tells Nala that Simba’s alive, but we get a weak version of Rafiki’s “it is time!” moment instead of letting Sora find his old friend. Sora does at least encounter Simba first, and tries to stop him from finding Nala - but he might as well not say anything, because the “pinned ya” moment from the movie plays out as if he weren’t there. The game prompts Sora to cheer Simba up, but he doesn’t do anything of the sort - Simba just walks away, and we get the discount version of the big Hamlet moment. If it weren’t for Sora staying by Simba’s side for the Scar fight, this would be as bad a use of him in a Disney world as anything in KH III.

As with Port Royal, it’s tempting to imagine alternate scenarios. Picture a Pride Lands level where Sora, upon arriving, encounters Simba in the jungle, wtih Timon and Pumba. More is made of their reunion and Simba’s shock at seeing his friend in lion form (one moment from the world as-is that I truly love, because it’s adorable), and the level starts out with a series of short, light-hearted minigames designed to give the player a crash course in controlling the lion mode and offer a springboard for cutscenes letting these two trios bounce off one another in a fun way. You could also use these scenes to let Sora, for the first time, get a hint of the sadness in Simba. Cut to Pride Rock, where Maleficent is actively tempting Scar and providing him with Heartless. It’s the sight of this unnatural force that moves Nala to go looking for help, and this would lead to a “boss” battle where Sora, Donald, and Goofy end up fighting Nala to protect Timon and Pumba. Simba, recognizing Nala, breaks up the fight, and their reunion brings up Simba’s past, prompting Sora to ask the questions that would bring that past to light. When Simba runs off, Nala ends up asking Sora for help, and he follows her to Pride Rock. Cue two cutscenes - one of the Hamlet moment, and one where Maleficent informs Scar that trouble is coming, and gives him his next shot of darkness. When gameplay starts back up, it’s Sora confronting hyenas and Heartless, leading up to a first try at fighting Scar that it’s impossible to win. That would trigger another cutscene where Simba arrives and has his verbal confrontation with Scar, Maleficent would appear and give Scar his final “help,” and then we’d go right into the final battle with Heartless Scar.

Having been frustrated enough with this world to want a complete rewrite of it, I will say that it’s a much more attractive world than Port Royal, and it’s not without its charms. Besides little character moments that I already mentioned, getting to play as a lion is a lot of fun. I do wish that there was more variation on speed depending on the pressure you put on the analogue stick, as Sora can go a bit too fast for me in lion form, but it’s a great change-up from other worlds. And despite the changes I would have made to her introduction, Nala’s presence and interaction with Sora is nice. It’s a shame she and Simba both couldn’t have been party members.

So, I clearly had problems with those three worlds. But what about the other two? Well, while my issues with the larger KH story in this section stand, Agrabah and Halloween Town both hold up much better taken on their own terms. As someone whose disdain for Disney’s DTV sequel craze is only slightly less than my current disdain for their live-action remake trend, I was loathe to think that any of those videos would find their way into Kingdom Hearts back when I first played this game. Return of Jafar being, to my mind, one of the worst of that bunch only reinforced that feeling. But I liked Agrabah in KH II back in the day, and I’d say it holds up nicely. In some ways, I think it’s an improvement on the (surprisingly slight) material it takes from Return of Jafar, if only because it cuts away all the nonsense. Sora serving as an intermediary between Iago and the world’s heroes isn’t his most dramatic role in a Disney story, but it’s just enough to make his presence seem necessary. Riku and King Mickey getting mentioned again keeps the rest of the plot in mind to some degree. And I’ll give them credit for some variety - saving the Disney villain for the second pass in at least one world was a good call. Though, since Maleficent has a personal history with Jafar, it’s a shame she’s not personally involved in the hunt for his lamp.

That’s not an issue with Halloween Town, of course, and it’s in Halloween Town where what they were trying to do with Maleficent’s storyline is most clearly illustrated. The idea of the Mistress of All Evil, greatest of the Disney villains, having to claw her way back to the top of the totem pole after being knocked down in KH I and finding frustration and setback every step of the way, is a wonderful idea. And the pairing of the elegant Maleficent with a slob like Oogie Boogie (and Pete, for that matter) is a gold mine for material. The fact that she just gives up her plan to turn Santa Claus into a Heartless because Oogie is being somewhat rude and amnesiac makes no sense (does she need Oogie for that process? Why would she give up her side of the plan just because he was annoying?), and it undermines her scheming almost as much as the lack of movement in the larger plot does. But just being able to recognize an attempt at a coherent internal narrative for her, when later games turn her into a pointless tease for UX bullshit, counts for something.

And I love Halloween and Christmas Town in this game. I must confess that I’ve never liked the look of Halloween Town in KH I, with its heavy use of browns and purples, but the world in KH II is as perfect a match to the movie as CGI can get. It is gorgeous, and Christmas Town is even more so. I love the little details they put into that world, like the toy train running through the mountains in the background. Playing the vanilla version as I am, I don’t get to see Sora and friends in their unique Christmas Town looks, but it’s still nice to see them running around in that environment.

As with Agrabah, there’s some interesting variety on display in Halloween Town. Adapting material from the movie to make a sequel to the movie is a fun idea. With the events of Nightmare before Christmas in the past, Jack and Santa’s relationship has a nice flavor to it here, with Jack as the exhausting but lovable neighbor for old St. Nick. It’s almost like Jack is Kramer from Seinfeld, and Santa is Jerry. The story here doesn’t give Sora a whole lot more to do than tag along with Jack, which one could argue is barely a step above worlds like Pride Rock and Port Royal. But the details here matter. Jack specifically enlisting Sora and his friends as “bodyguards,” their actions directly helping Jack, and Sora’s love of Santa Claus, may be little things, but they go such a long way to generating a feeling that Sora really does belong in this story, that his role as wielder of the Keyblade has a direct impact on these Disney characters’ lives. I’m so hard on Pride Rock for lacking in those moments, because every other world in this game has them on the first pass - even Atlantica has them.

Santa Claus, and pirates, are two things in this game that awaken a childlike glee in Sora that momentarily overcomes his focus on the mission. There wasn’t necessarily anything like that in KH I, with a younger Sora. He gets into a petty fight with Donald, yes; there was a look of admiration towards Cloud in the Coliseum; he describes the Gummi ship as an “awesome rocket;” and he’s struck with wonder at being able to fly in Neverland. But there isn’t anything as pronounced as his boyish fantasies of being a pirate here, or his delight at meeting Santa. You could argue that it’s a bit of a retcon to do this; Sora didn’t exhibit any love of pirates while on Captain Hook’s ship. But it’s a slight retcon, and that instance could easily be explained away by his being preoccupied by finding Kairi at last and witnessing Riku’s continuing slide to darkness. It’s one change to Sora’s character in KH II that I don’t mind at all. It gives him a new dimension, it opens up opportunities for levity with Sora without turning him into the butt of jokes, and most importantly, it isn’t overplayed. KH III would see Sora grasping at an unfeasible lure of a pirate ship (not unlike the throne of Pride Rock in this game) and try to claim some great parallels or similarities between Sora and Jack Sparrow that are untenable, but here, it’s just a young boy’s daydream, popping up here and there, which is just enough to flesh Sora out and give scenes some charm. And the moments with Santa give some funny and unexpected insight into Sora’s past; Riku being the asshole who went around telling younger kids there was no such thing as Santa Claus fits in perfectly with what we see of him in KH I.

And to close on a positive note: Halloween Town has some of my all-time favorite gameplay material in this series. There is no reason why Jack’s Command should delight me as much as it does, but watching him sweep Sora into a crazy dance to kill Heartless always makes me laugh. And the boss battle with Oogie Boogie is fantastic. Good lead-up in the cutscenes, colorful, unorthodox layout, challenging without being impossible; would that all the boss battles in the series showed this degree of variety and creativity.

#z's crits #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 2 #critique #commentary

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starryknight09 · 5 years

Text

Whatever It Takes Ch. 13/?

Summary: Peter’s struggling to cope after the loss of Mr. Stark. Everyone keeps telling him it’ll get better and that he needs to move on, but Peter doesn’t want to. He can’t envision a life without his mentor. So when an idea comes to him, he doesn’t hesitate, no matter how crazy it is. He’s going to get Mr. Stark back.

“What exactly are we going to do?” Ned asked.

“Whatever it takes.” Peter answered.

Read on AO3.

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Peter had thought getting Tony back would mean everything would go back to how it’d been before. That it’d be like Tony had never died in the first place. That everything would be well again.

The reality was different. His brain couldn’t seem to catch up with everything that’d happened. The nightmares didn’t disappear. If anything, they got worse now that he couldn’t see Tony every day and reassure himself that he was actually alive. And on top of that, he now had the Avenger’s nutritionist stuffing him so full of food and shakes that he felt like he was going to throw up most of the time. And he wasn’t even allowed to distract himself with Spiderman. Life sucked.

Peter rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on what his history teacher was saying. Instead of expending the energy to concentrate and filter out the important parts, he scribbled down whatever came out of the man’s mouth and figured he’d revise the notes later. When his brain could focus again. Although who knew when that would be.

“And just like that,” Mr. Roben said, snapping his fingers, “you have a rebellion.”

Peter jumped at the noise and his pen jerked violently over his paper, leaving a harsh black line. His head jolted up and Mr. Roben kept talking, pacing around the room, explaining further. But Peter couldn’t listen. All he could hear was the echoing snap of fingers. The classroom faded out until all he could see in his mind’s eye was Tony, stones in his hand, kneeling on the ground, brave and desperate, snapping his fingers. Snapping. Dying.

He gasped.

“Mr. Parker?”

He blinked and came back to reality.

“Something you’d like to share with the class Mr. Parker?” His teacher asked.

Peter looked around and realized he was standing up next his desk. Everyone was staring at him, some confused, others amused. Ned and MJ looked concerned.

“Um. I um. I have to go to the bathroom.” He managed to get out even though he felt like he could barely breathe.

“Very well, but next time a raised hand will suffice.” Mr. Roben say wryly.

He practically sprinted out of the room to the chuckles of his classmates.

“Wow. Parker must really have to go.” He heard Flash say with a laugh as the door closed behind him.

Once he was safe in the hallway, he ran to the closest bathroom, glad to see it was empty as he threw himself into the farthest stall and slammed the door. He closed his eyes and leaned against it, gasping for air. He slid down to the floor and tried to breathe.

He was at school. He was in the bathroom. He was safe. He wasn’t there. Tony wasn’t dead. It wasn’t real. Well it was real but not anymore. Tony was fine. He was alive. Peter was alive. Everyone was safe. Everyone was fine.

So why couldn’t he stop freaking out?

His hands started tingling. Dammit. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t believe he was losing his shit over a teacher snapping his fingers in class. He shook his head in anger at himself as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, shakily opening up his most recent text conversation with Tony.

His fingers hovered over the keys. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell Tony about this. He’d come running. And Peter didn’t need that. He didn’t want to worry him. He just needed something. Reassurance. Something to distract him. Ground him.

He tried to think of something smart or funny to say, but his brain was failing him in more ways than one at the moment. So he settled on typing out the single word, Hey.

Hey yourself. Tony responded seconds later. Thank god. If he’d kept him hanging, Peter didn’t know what he would’ve done. Probably worked himself up into thinking he was still dead.

Shouldn’t you be in school?

I am.

Then shouldn’t you be paying attention?

Nah. It’s boring. What are you doing?

Watching Frozen 3 with Morgan. And you think you’re bored…

That got a smile out of him and he realized his breathing had started to slow down.

Yeah she loves that stupid movie. I think I have all the words to it memorized by now. Don’t tell anyone.

I won’t. I’m right there with you.

Peter re-read the last sentence over and over again. He knew Tony didn’t mean it in the way Peter was faking himself into interpreting it, but it still helped. I’m right there with you. And he was. Peter wasn’t alone. Even though he was the only person in the bathroom right now. Tony was with him. He was helping him. Calming him down even though he didn’t know it.

Did you know they’re making another one? He typed. His hands had stopped tingling and he no longer felt like his heart was trying to escape through his chest.

Nooo. Don’t tell me that.

You just ruined my day.

Do you know how many times I have to watch these things on repeat when they first come out? Over and over and over again?

I think I almost lost my mind the last time.

I can’t do that again. I can’t Parker.

Peter laughed, so he sent a corresponding emoji.

It’s not funny. Seriously. When it comes out you’re on babysitting duty.

He sent the eye rolling emoji at that.

See how long you can take it before your ears start to bleed.

I think I can take it. I’m tough. He typed back, smile still on his face, panic forgotten.

Yeah you are kid. Tony responded genuinely instead of continuing the light hearted joking.

You all good now? Tony asked.

Peter scoffed. Of course Tony knew he hadn’t just texted because he was bored. He thought about blowing it off or denying it, but figured it’d be pointless.

Yeah. Thanks. I was just having kind of a bad moment earlier. He admitted.

Do you need me to come pick you up?

No. I think I’m ok now. I should get back to class.

You’re cutting class?

No. I’m in the bathroom.

You’re texting me from the bathroom?

Yeah…

His phone started vibrating as Tony called him, requesting a video call. He denied it.

Answer the phone. Tony texted immediately.

I can’t. I just told you I’m in the bathroom. Someone could hear. The bathroom was empty right now but someone could still walk in at any moment.

I’m coming to get you.

No. Tony seriously. I’m fine. I couldn’t text in class so I had to think of an excuse to leave. That’s it. He wrote. Although that wasn’t exactly it. He’d left so he didn’t have a freak out in front of his entire class, not just so he could text Tony, but Tony didn’t need to know that.

You sure you don’t need me to pick you up?

I’m sure. I only have one more class left. I can make it.

You don’t have to.

I know. But I want to. I’m ok now. I swear. You can stand down. It was true. The unbridled terror from earlier had left him. He still felt kind of weak and shaky in the aftermath, but he could deal with that.

Ok. I want you to know I’m going against my instincts and trusting you on this. Don’t make me regret it.

Peter sent another eye rolling emoji.

Call me after school.

Ok.

Or sooner if you need me to come pick you up.

He sent Tony the thumbs up emoji and pocketed his phone as he stood. He unlocked the stall door and made his way back to class, feeling remarkably better. It was nice to know that Tony was there for him. That he was alive and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Now if he could only convince his subconscious of that fact.

Peter watched as Tony stared straight ahead, not really registering anything.

“You can rest now.” Pepper told him and Peter wanted to scream. But for some reason he didn’t. The moment was too solemn for that. Tony was dying. He’d saved them all and now he was dying for it. Peter wanted to be sick.

“Tony.” He mumbled and tried to step closer but Rhodey held him back.

No no no. Tony was going.

“No.” He protested, trying to break free to be able to touch his mentor. To hold him. To be there as he went where Peter couldn’t follow.

Rhodey held fast and for some reason he couldn’t break free.

Tony’s features went slack and his eyes deadened as life left him.

“No! Tony!” He yelled, feeling like his own heart had been ripped out of his chest.

“Peter.” Someone shook him. “Peter wake up!”

Peter’s eyes snapped open and he gulped in deep breaths. May hovered over him.

“It was just a dream baby.” She murmured reassurances. “Just a dream.”

“May.” He gasped and she sat down on his bed and gathered him into her arms.

“I’m here sweetheart. It was only a dream.” She said as she held him tight.

“Tony?” He asked. He couldn’t help it.

“He’s fine Peter. He’s fine.” She said. “He’s alive remember? You saved him.”

“I did? That was real?” His brain always had a hard time catching up, discerning dream from reality, right after awakening.

“Yes.”

“He’s alive?”

“Yeah baby.”

He nodded and tried to catch his breath.

“Do you want to call him?” May offered. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Peter shook his head. He didn’t want to wake Tony up in the middle of the night because he’d had a bad dream. Because he was weak. “N-no. I’m fine.”

“Peter.” May sighed, and he could hear her frustration.

“I’m fine.” He said, more stubbornly and pulled away. “It was just a stupid dream.”

“You’ve been through a lot. It’s not stupid sweetheart.”

“Yes it is. Because Tony’s fine. I’m fine. Everyone’s fine.” He practically growled. “I don’t know why this keeps happening. I just want it to stop.”

“That’s not how it works baby.” May placed a comforting hand on his head.

He’d figured that out. He’d barely slept since Tony had returned him to May’s. But he didn’t understand why. And the worst part was May was starting to catch on.

“I’m fine.” He grit out and pulled away from her hand. “I just want to be alone. Please.”

“If that’s what you want.” May sounded unsure but she stood, giving him his space.

“It is. I’m sorry for waking you up.” Peter said and rolled so his back faced her. He closed his eyes.

“I don’t mind honey.”

“I know.” Peter mumbled. “But I’m fine.”

“Ok.” May sighed. “I love you.”

She kissed his forehead.

“Love you too May.” He mumbled.

“Sleep tight.”

He hummed and kept his eyes scrunched closed until he heard her leave and close his door behind him.

Once she was gone, he sat back up. He refused to sleep again. He pulled out his phone and brought up a new game had Ned had showed him earlier in the week. He ended up playing it until his alarm went off for school hours later. He didn’t even care how tired he was. He just wished he could figure out how to get his brain to accept the fact that Tony was back and that he didn’t need to be sad anymore.

Tony landed at the entrance of the compound, tapping the central housing so the Ironman nanosuit retracted. He hurried inside. He was more than a little leery about what could’ve possibly happened to make Rhodey call him and insist he come as fast as possible while refusing to tell him why. Rhodey hadn’t seemed worried, if anything he’d seemed happy, but the demand of his presence still had him on edge and thinking the worst. Tony really didn’t think he could deal with another world ending threat right now.

He walked briskly through the compound to the common area. The closer he got, the more he could hear uproarious laughter. It almost sounded like they were celebrating something. What the hell?

“What’s going on in here?” He asked as he walked into the room.

“Stark!” Clint cried out happily and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Come join us. We’re celebrating!”

“Celebrating what?” He frowned at the clearly inebriated man hanging off him.

“Me.”

Tony gasped and his neck snapped so fast to the side, he felt it crack. But his ears weren’t playing tricks on him. She was here.

“Nat.” The name escaped him in a reverent whisper.

“Hi Tony.” She smiled demurely at him.

“Um.” He blinked in shock. “Hi.”

He pushed Clint off him so he could make his way to Natasha’s side, her smile widening the closer he got. He stopped right in front of her and looked her up and down. She was alive and whole. Not dead. He shook his head minutely in disbelief before huffing out a noise of relief and engulfing her in a hug.

She wasted no time in hugging him back. She was solid beneath his arms. She looked the exact same as the day she’d left to go with Clint to Vormir.

He pulled back, holding her at arm’s length. “What? How?”

“The great orator is speechless.” Rhodey joked, clapping a hand against his back. “It’s great isn’t it?”

“Yeah it-it is, but how?” He couldn’t stop staring at Nat in wonder. Never in a million years had he expected to see her again. Having her in front of him felt like walking through a dream. Was this how everyone else felt about him?

“We returned the soul stone to Vormir.” Sam explained. “We got Nat back in return.”

“The soul stone for a soul.” Clint mimed in a dark, menacing voice, but then he grinned and said, “We showed that red faced bastard.”

“I don’t know what crazy here is talking about but I’ll take it.” Tony smiled and pulled Nat into a hug again.

“All right all right.” Clint elbowed him aside so he could put his arm around Nat. “Stop hogging the guest of honor.”

Nat rolled her eyes but smiled. “I’m not the only guest of honor apparently.”

Tony frowned.

“We got Vision back this morning too.” Sam said.

“Really?” Tony smiled. He’d known they were going to use the time travel technology to retrieve him at some point this week like they’d discussed, but he hadn’t been in the loop regarding when.

“Yeah he’s back there.” Clint tossed his head back toward where the rest of the Avengers were gathered on the couch. Tony glanced back and caught sight of Wanda, Vision, Bruce, Scott, and the back of someone else’s head.

“I wasn’t only talking about Vision.” Nat said to him. “I heard youwere dead until recently too.”

Tony waved away the comment. “I already had my party.”

“And it was glorious.” Clint joked. “I puked until noon the next day.”

“Classy.” Tony shook his head.

Clint laughed. “Since I’m in a good mood, I’ll grab you a drink Stark. What’ll it be. Beer? Whiskey?”

“Scotch neat.” He and Rhodey answered in unison.

“Surprised you didn’t marry him.” Clint thrust a thumb in the direction of the colonel as he walked toward the kitchen.

“Surprised you didn’t marry her.” Tony said in response, pointing to Nat.

Nat and Rhodey both rolled their eyes. Clint kept laughing but got out, “I tried. She wouldn’t have me.”

“Oh please.” Nat shook her head. “You’re delusional.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself!” Clint said back and then gestured down his body. “Just know you missed out on this.”

“Oh god.” Tony made a face of disgust and asked Nat, “Why are you friends with him again?”

“We love each other.” Nat answered succinctly, not inviting bullshit.

“Like you love me?” He smirked.

“Not quite.” Nat answered, and ouch, that hurt. “But I love you too Tony.”

He beamed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well good, because I’m pretty fond of you myself.”

This time she rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“Jesus just say it.” Rhodey called him out. “I thought you weren’t as emotionally stunted ever since you had Morgan.”

“I don’t have to say it. Nat knows I love her. Right?”

“I do.” She smiled back, eyes twinkling with amusement. He drank in the face he never thought he’d get to see again.

“Well good.” Rhodey gave a decisive nod.

“Rhodes get over here. I need more hands man.” Clint called and Rhodey shook his head in consternation but went to help.

Now that they had a moment alone, Tony took advantage of it. He rested a hand on Nat’s shoulder and looked her in the eye as he asked, “You all right?”

She considered it for a moment, eyes narrowing in thought, before answering, “Yeah. You?”

She peered into his eyes just as intensely. The corner of his mouth upturned before he answered honestly, “Yeah. I am.”

“Good.” She smiled and stepped forward to give him another hug.

“God I’m glad you’re back.” He whispered into her hair.

She squeezed him tighter in response. He kissed the side of her face and let go.

“Your drink Stark.” Clint said, holding out the tumbler with scotch once they’d disengaged.

“Thanks birdbrain.” He said as he took it.

The four of them made their way over to the rest of the Avengers. Vision stood as Tony walked directly to him. Tony noticed he was back in his human form instead of his android appearance.

“Hey Viz. Good to see you back.” Tony held out his hand and Vision shook it.

“It is good to be back.” The man nodded.

“It’s very good.” Wanda added from his side.

Tony smiled at her and Vision sat back down on the couch. Wanda rested her head on his shoulder.

“Although I will admit it is a little odd since I don’t remember leaving.” Vision added with a quirk of his head.

“Yeah join the club.” Tony agreed before catching Wanda’s eye and asking, “So the stones, they’re…”

“Destroyed.” Wanda answered. “This morning.”

“Good.” Tony nodded and sighed heavily. That was definitely a weight off his chest.

“Tony.” A familiar voice from behind him spoke.

He whirled around and his jaw dropped. Steve. Only he was about sixty years older than Tony remembered.

“Cap.” He managed to say, but it came out strangled.

“It’s really good to see you.” Steve smiled and pushed off the couch shakily to stand.

And Tony realized in that moment that it’d been decades, a lifetime really, for Steve since they’d last interacted. And as angry as he’d been to find out Cap had selfishly ditched the Avengers, he found it fading away now that he was faced with the man.

“It’s…good to see you too.” He said and crossed the distance between them. “You’re looking…spry.”

Steve laughed and it was familiar and alien at the same time. It was still Steve, but it was weaker than Tony was used to, and it had the edge of an old man wheeze to it.

Steve set his hands on his shoulders and said earnestly, “I’m really glad things turned out for you.”

Tony nodded and graced the man with a small smile. “You too.”

They stared at each other for a few long seconds. Steve was probably waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Tony to erupt with a spew of insults. Tony knew he should be angry. Should be yelling, accusing Steve of abandoning everyone, abandoning his duty, being selfish, but he couldn’t bring himself to do any of that. Not after he’d died and been brought back. And not when Steve looked like a stiff breeze might knock him over. In that moment Tony decided it’d be better to finally let all his animosity toward Cap go. Better for him. Better for Steve. Better for everyone. He broke the stalemate and leaned forward to hug the man.

When they let each other go, Tony realized the room had gone silent. Everyone was probably watching them, and their uncharacteristic interaction, but Tony ignored it.

“I hear you lived a good life.” Tony smiled as he helped Steve sit back down on the couch and took a seat on the empty cushion next to him.

“I did.” Steve smiled back. “I followed an old friend’s example. Married the girl I loved. Had a couple kids. Bought a house on a lake. Lived happily ever after. Never looked back.”

A lump formed in his throat, but he refused to let it show. “Sounds like your friend was a pretty smart guy.”

“The smartest.” Steve said with a grin and sparkling eyes.

Clint made a fake gagging sound and interrupted their heart to heart moment. “That’s enough already. The two of you are going to make me sick. What the hell is going on? You’re supposed to hate each other.”

“We never hated each other.” Tony and Steve said at the exact same time. They both looked at each other in surprise and then burst out laughing. It was true, though. Even at their lowest, Tony had never truly hated Steve. He’d felt angry and betrayed and been deeply hurt by him, but he’d never hated him.

“Whatever.” Clint rolled his eyes. “Now that we’re done with all the touchy feely moments, what do you say we play king’s cup?”

“What are you, in college?” Tony asked. “Because that’s the last time I played that. And I was fifteen.”

“Come on. The gang’s all together. We’re celebrating. It’ll be fun.” Clint insisted.

They all exchanged glances but no one vetoed it.

Nat shrugged. “Why not?”

“Um I hate to be the downer here, but does anyone even have a deck of cards?” Scott asked.

No one piped up.

“Shit.” Clint swore.

They didn’t end up playing king’s cup but they played some other ridiculous drinking game late into the evening. The details about everything eventually came out. Clint and Sam’s sojourn to Vormir to unexpectedly return with Natasha alive and well. Steve’s life story including how he’d also gotten Nat back in return for the soul stone when he’d gone back in time, but it hadn’t brought Nat back in this time, and had instead created another alternate reality where Natasha had returned and lived. After all this was said and done, Tony shuddered to think about how many alternate realities they’d created and what kind of havoc that could possibly wreak.

When dinner time arrived, Tony ordered a slew of pizzas for everyone with the hope that it’d also help soak up some of the alcohol. Honestly, he doubted it would help much since Sam, Clint, and Scott had already gone off in the corner to sing karaoke by themselves, but he figured it couldn’t hurt, and he was getting a little hungry himself.

Tony was chowing down a piece of sausage pizza, and in the middle of arguing the finer points of time travel and the multiverse theory with Bruce, when his phone rang.

“Hello?” He answered without checking the caller ID, not bothering to mask the happiness in his voice. It was probably Pepper wondering where he’d disappeared to. He couldn’t wait to tell her the good news.

“Tony?” The voice on the other end asked.

“Hey May. What’s up?” He asked, holding a finger up to Bruce and standing from the couch.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have some time to talk?” May asked.

“For you? Always.” He stepped away from the noise out onto the balcony so he could have the rest of the conversation in peace. “What’s up?”

“It’s Peter.” She said and Tony’s stomach sank.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s-he’s not doing so well.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked. Was the kid sick again? He’d been fine when he’d dropped him off Sunday night and that had only been five days ago. Tony had talked to him on the phone and texted everyday since, and besides the brief text conversation they'd had yesterday during school, Peter hadn’t mentioned anything was wrong.

“He’s having nightmares almost every night and I think they’re about you know. You…dying, but he refuses to call you.” May sighed heavily. “I think he’s worried about bothering you.”

“Well that’s stupid.” Tony scoffed.

“Iknow that andyouknow that, but Peter doesn’t. And it’s not just the nightmares. He’s still not acting himself. I thought with you back, he’d snap out of it, but he hasn’t. I think he’s still struggling, but he won’t talk to me. And…I don’t know what to do.”

Tony rapped his fingers on the balcony railing as he thought about it.

“How about I pick him up from school tomorrow and take him for the weekend? Maybe I can get him to talk to me.” He offered.

“Really? That’d be great.” Tony hated how relieved she sounded. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. You know I just want what’s best for him.”

“I know but thank you. Do you want to tell him or should I?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“He might take it better coming from you. If I tell him, he’ll think I’m trying to handle him.” May said wryly.

“Right.” Tony had forgotten how stubborn the kid could be. “I’ll tell him then.”

“Ok. Thank you Tony. I’ll give you a call this weekend.”

“Sounds good. Bye May.”

“Bye.”

He hung up and sighed. He quickly found Peter Parker’s name in his phone and decided to shoot him a text instead of calling, not sure he could mask the worry in his voice right now. He didn’t want to accidentally get into a deep discussion over the phone or say something that might make Peter not want to come with him for the weekend.

I’m picking you up from school tomorrow and you’re spending the weekend with me. May gave the ok. Pack a bag.

A few seconds later he received Peter’s reply. Ok!

Great. Now he just had to figure out what was he going to do about his kid.

“Welcome back boss.” FRIDAY greeted as Tony walked into his workshop and sat down in his desk chair for the first time since his time travel resurrection.

“It’s good to be back.” He agreed. Usually he wouldn’t have stayed away from his work for this long, but he’d been busy taking care of Peter when he’d gotten sick and then Morgan when she’d been struck down by the same illness. He hadn’t told Peter that because he hadn’t wanted him to feel too guilty. In retrospect, he probably should’ve kept the two of them apart while one of them was sick, but realistically, he didn’t know if he would’ve been able to even if he’d tried. The two of them were thick as thieves.

Then once Morgan had recovered and gone back to preschool, Nat had returned with the Avengers. So today was the first time he’d had a free moment to escape to his workshop. Morgan was at preschool and Pepper was in the city again, finishing up discussions with the SI board about announcing his return. The plan was to do it on Monday so at least he’d still get to enjoy the weekend with Peter.

“Got anything for me?” He asked as he brought up his hologram desk.

“You have one alert from the Spiderman suit.” FRIDAY answered.

Tony frowned. Peter wasn’t supposed to be using the suit. And as far as he knew, Peter wasn’t. He’d set up an alert to go to his phone if the kid put it on before Tony had okayed it.

“From when?”

“Twenty four days ago.” FRIDAY answered.

So from before he’d returned. Obviously it couldn’t be that bad since the kid had been well enough to go back in time and rescue him.

“Would you like me to play the baby monitor footage?” FRIDAY asked.

“Sure.” Tony shrugged and took a drink of his green smoothie as he leaned back in the desk chair. If it was something bad, he could bring it up to the kid when he picked him up from school in a few hours.

The footage played in the air in front of him.

“Peter it is now three hours past the curfew Mr. Stark set for you.” Karen’s voice announced over the video.

“I know Karen. It’s not like it matters. There’s no one you can tattletale to anymore.” Peter said and from the viewscreen Tony could tell he was sitting on the roof ledge of a building in Midtown.

“Sorry.” Peter muttered a few seconds later.

“I recommend you return home to sleep. Due to your fatigue, your reaction times have been 0.2 seconds slower tonight than usual. I have noted a gradual progressive increase in this delay over the past week.”

Tony frowned. That didn’t sound good. The kid shouldn’t have been going out as Spiderman like that. Was this what FRIDAY had wanted him to see? He took another drink of his smoothie.

“I am concerned for your wellbeing Peter.” Karen added.

“Yeah well join the club.” Peter muttered back.

“Your safety is my primary objective. It has not escaped my notice that lately your behavior has become increasingly erratic and you have been taking more unacceptable risks.”

Tony’s frown deepened. What did that mean?

Peter snorted. “I’m fine Karen.”

There was silence for half a minute before Peter sighed. “All right. Fine. I’m going home. Happy?”

“Very.”

Tony watched as Peter stood and jumped off the ledge and started webbing from building to building. Why was the footage still playing? Hadn’t he already seen what he needed to?

He opened his mouth, about to ask FRIDAY, when the kid suddenly started falling on the viewscreen. And not the typical short falls he did while swinging. This was an all out plummet toward the ground.

“Peter is there something wrong with your webshooter?” Karen asked.

Peter didn’t answer. He just kept falling. Had he taken a hit Tony hadn’t noticed? Had he passed out for some other reason? Was he unconscious?

“Peter.” Karen warned. Why was Karen trying to talk to him if he was unconscious?

The ground grew closer on the viewscreen and warnings erupted across it in red.

“Oh my god.” Tony gasped, eyes wide as saucers as he watched. He had to force himself to remain seated. Instincts screamed at him to get in the Ironman suit and fly to Peter, but it wouldn’t help this time, because this wasn’t currently happening. And since Peter was still alive, he obviously hadn’t ended up as a spider pancake on the asphalt, even though that’s what it looked like was about to happen.

“Peter you must deploy your webshooter.” Karen ordered.

Finally there was movement on the screen. Tony watched as Peter extended his arm out and…stopped.

What? Why the hell wasn’t he saving himself? Tony couldn’t help it. He shot to his feet. He couldn’t stay seated and watch this.

“Peter!” Karen yelled. Tony didn’t remember programming her to be able to do that.

Peter gasped, audible over the viewscreen, and then the webshooter shot off a web onto a nearby building. When it caught, he let out a small cry from the force of it. That had to hurt. But he was swinging again. He wasn’t dead.

“Christ.” Tony mumbled and sank back down into the desk chair, knees weak. The kid couldn’t be more than thirty feet off the ground.

He’d almost just… He’d almost just watched his kid… What? What was that? Why had Peter done that? He hadn’t been hurt. His webshooter hadn’t malfunctioned. It didn’t compute.

Tony watched as the video continued to play and Peter wasn’t able to recover quite as well as Tony had thought. He ended up rolling roughly across the ground in a barely controlled crash. The dizzying movements across the screen finally stopped when Peter collided with a dumpster at the end of an alleyway. He hit it way too fast. Injury reports started flashing on the screen.

The view tilted and Tony frowned as Peter took in the practically demolished dumpster he’d crashed into before he went back to staring at the sky. The tense silence of Tony’s workshop was broken only by the rough gasps he heard over the video.

Tony almost dropped his smoothie when Peter suddenly erupted in laughter, hysterical giggles resounding throughout the room. But it wasn’t happy laughter. It had a crazed edge to it. Something Tony had never wanted or expected to hear coming from Peter. He slowly set his smoothie down on the desk in front of him. His hands were shaking. He didn’t want to watch this anymore, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. He had to watch it.

At least the laughter didn’t last very long, but what came after was almost worse. Peter’s breath stuttered from one laugh to the next and then he started crying with abandon. The sound of deep devastated sobs filled the room. Tony’s own breath caught and he wiped at his cheeks now marred by tears.

Had Peter tried to kill himself?

Was that what he’d really just witnessed?

He couldn’t think of any other explanation.

And this had happened only a few weeks ago?

“Fuck.” He stood so abruptly his desk chair went careening across the floor, but he barely noticed it as he sprinted out of the room and up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Peter had been suicidal while he’d been gone? Was that the only time? It was the only time recorded in the suit, but had it happened out of the suit too?

He ran out of the house, not even pausing to lock it behind him.

How had everyone missed this?

He flung himself into the driver’s seat of his fastest car.

Everyone had mentioned how badly Peter had dealt with his death and that they’d been worried about him, but no one had straight out said they’d thought he was depressed or suicidal.

He threw the car into gear and floored the pedal so it went shooting down the driveway toward the road. The only reason he wasn’t taking the Ironman armor was because Peter was in school. He was safe in school. People were around. He was being supervised. But Tony was still pulling him out as soon as he got there.

He turned from the gravel road onto the highway, tires squealing as he took it too fast. He didn’t care. He floored the gas pedal, easily hitting 100 mph, 110 mph, 120 mph. There was no one in sight on the road, but eventually he forced his foot to back off. The speed ramped back down to 90 mph. He wouldn’t be doing Peter any good if he got in an accident and ended up in the hospital, or worse, dead again.

The guilt ate at him. How had hemissedthis?

Everything started to click horribly into place. The loss of appetite, the weight loss, the not sleeping, the recklessness. Obviously the kid was depressed. But everyone had attributed it to grief, which sure, maybe that’d been the trigger, but depression didn’t work like that. Tony knew from personal experience. It was probably why Peter was still struggling, as May had put it. Tony coming back wasn’t going to magically correct the chemical imbalance in his brain and make him perfectly fine again.

How bad was it? Was the kid still suicidal? Had Tony’s return at least helped with that? Or had he even ever been that bad? Had the baby monitor footage been something else? Peter’s plummet hadn’t seemed very planned, more of a spur of the moment thing. If he’d wanted to take his life, he could’ve thrown the webshooters to the side and just jumped from the top of the building he’d been sitting on in the beginning. The thought of that made Tony grip the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

God.

He hated that he was so far away from his kid. He hadn’t considered this scenario when he and Pepper had decided to move to the lake house. They’d thought it’d be better for Morgan. More privacy. Nature. Cleaner air. It’d been an easy decision. They hadn’t had any compelling reason to stay in the city. Peter had been gone. And Pepper hadn’t minded the commute into the office.

Tony was starting to rethink it. He couldn’t be this far from Peter.

If the suit footage had been happening in real time there was no way he would’ve made it in time from all the way out here in the Ironman armor. Even from the city he still probably wouldn’t have made it in time, but he deluded himself into thinking there might’ve been a chance.

He sped down the highway, scenery blindly passing him by. All he could see over and over again was his kid falling.

And he hadn’t been there to catch him.

#my fic

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