#(sky cracking-lightning;sky mourning-rain) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlightsolo · 1 year

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the eastern sea.

summary: fleeing the omatikaya clan means you’re leaving everything you’ve ever known behind. the native reef people of awa’atlu are not very open-minded with your kind- but with neteyam by your side everything will be perfectly fine… right?

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!na’vi/human reader

warnings: spoilers for atwow, metkayina being kinda rac!st (im sorry they’re mean), smooching, angst, nete fighting ao’nung n his goblins for you 😩

note: if none of y’all leave feedback n just simply leave a like i will block u (not really) but give me some attention to feed my ego!!!!!!!

part one | part two | part four | part five

your heart aches.

it mourns for the life you’re leaving behind; the only one you’ve ever known. the forest, the people of omatikaya, and of course… your home.

you watch the ceremony in tears with your fingers intertwined tightly with neteyam’s. his grip grows stronger as the time goes by from attempting to control his emotions.

jake sully has surrendered his leadership as olo’eyktan. the position is to be taken over by another na’vi named tarsem.

you can’t help but glance up at the sully boy, his round eyes watery but with no threat to spill out onto his cheeks. he’s trying to stay strong for his family, and for you.

your heart hurts for him, knowing that should have been him. neteyam was next in line after toruk makto and that opportunity was stripped away right in front of him.

jake leads his family down the steps of the tree of souls, ears pointed downward in defeat as the people, your family, cry out from everybody’s departure. some reach out to touch the shoulders of your group as you walk by, a sign of farewell.

you can’t help but stifle sobs into your free hand, unable to hold back your tears as you walk through the gathering of na’vi.

neteyam leads you through the crowd, his thumb rubbing circles into the top of your hand as he nods softly as to say goodbye to a few people.

the boy helps you climb onto the back of his ikran, now almost eye level with you. he pauses for a moment to look into your eyes, a smile barely grazing his lips before situating himself in front of you.

you take one last look at the clan, the ones who accepted you for who you are. not knowing if this will be the last time you will see them, and to feel the forest around you.

jake chirps out a rallying yelp, echoed by neytiri, kiri, lo’ak, and neteyam; all signaling they’re ready to depart.

jake is the first to take off, his ikran gaining speed as it rises in the air. next is neytiri and tuk, followed by kiri on her own ikran, lo’ak on his, and finally, you and neteyam.

your arms tighten around his slender waist, digging your cheek into the warmth of his back. you stare down at the clan that grows smaller as you ascend higher into the sky.

eventually you break free from the forests embrace, flying off the coast over the rough ocean. you take the time to admire the entirety of it; the massive trees that usually tower into the sky above you, look so small from up here.. the magnificent flora and animals that live amongst the grass, like the mountain banshees that scatter the wind, making you wish that you had enough time to rastle your own.

your grip tightens around neteyam, a soft sniffle sounding from your nose. one of his hands release from the reins of his ikran to hold your forearm, his thumb gently rubbing your skin in attempt to comfort you. it takes everything to break your gaze from the forest, taking the easy way out by nuzzling into his back.

the warmth emitting his body and the soft sea breeze slowly lulls you to sleep, your grip never falters from around his waist but a nap ensues.

a crack of lightning startles you awake, sending you into a panic.

how much time has gone by?

you’re drenched from the rain, but somehow covered in neteyams shawl. a gust of wind catches under the ikrans wing, sending you both in a zig zag pattern in the air. your arms squeeze his waist tightly, almost worrying that you’ll crush him under your vice-like grip.

the water droplets catch on your lashes, making your eyes squint as the harsh rain hits your bodies at an angle. the dark sky flashes with lightning, loud booming thunder vibrates everything around you.

as neteyam rounds a large rock, a wave crashes against the stone sending the water upwards into the sky. the sea mist cascades over your body, making you gasp in shock as the salty water splashes over your bodies.

the six of you power through the storm, the sunrise creeping through the darkened clouds slowly replaces the rain. your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, as if it’ll topple off into the depths of the sea below you.

you sleepily blink as you come to, the warmth of the sun lays upon your back like a warm hug. “we’re almost there.” neteyam glances behind his shoulder to look down at you. the boy looks equally, or even more, as sleepy as you.

you lean over the ikran, gasping at the crystal clear cerulean water. you revel at the sight of the colorful reefs and sea animals beneath the surface, hoping you’ll get the opportunity to swim alongside them.

your eyes catch an island in the distance, a tall grassy mountain sitting by itself in the water surrounded by rocky formations.

there it is… awa’atlu.

“it’s so beautiful.” you breathe out with a wide grin, eyes taking in the new environment.

you unravel from your embrace around him, leaning backwards with your arms out in the wind like a bird. the feeling of the warm wind flow across your body is freeing, as if you’re soaring through the sky like an ikran.

neteyam can’t help but smile at you and your excitement, but inside, his heart is uneasy. he doesn’t know if the metkayina will welcome his family into their clan, even after this strenuous journey they’ve endured.

on the outskirts of the island, the ikrans sail over a seabank filled with natural pools. the sea people amongst the grounds holler and yip at the presence of flying banshees breaching their perimeter.

as you grow closer, you realize that there are thick mangrove trees that cover the entire coast, shading it from the strength of the sun. a loud horn sounds from the somewhere in the village, making your ears perk up.

all five ikrans circle the village looking for a spot to land. neytiri and jake spot a sand bank, pointing for the rest to follow.

neytiri is the first to land alongside jake, instantly helping tuk off the animal.

once all the family’s ikrans land on the sand, neteyam sighs in defeat as he steps off, “here we go.” he mumbles with a bite to his voice. he reaches a hand out to help you off, but you’ve already slid down the side and hopped into the sand.

you stare down at your toes wiggling in the white powder that is so unfamiliar to you. it’s like dirtbutit’s so warm and soft.

with every yip coming from the growing crowd of reef people, your ears twitch. “on me.” jake gestures to the four of you to follow. neteyam’s hand barely grazes over your lower back to guide you between lo’ak, kiri, and himself- all he wants to do is keep you safe.

jake walks forward with his hands out in surrender as the foreign clan starts to surround your much smaller group. the amount of eyes you can feel on your skin makes you pull neteyams shawl tighter around your upper body.

neteyam and lo’ak sign ‘i see you’ to two younger metkayina boys, who surprisingly don’t return the gesture. “easy. just be cool.” jake says calmly to his boys.

“look! what is that?” the shorter one laughs as he points at the neteyam and lo’aks tails, “is that supposed to be a tail?” the comment makes the taller one laugh as they circle your group like predators on prey.

the taller one locks eyes with you, making your gaze shift from neteyam and then back to him. “and you’ve brought a sky demon.”

although it was meant to be a statement, his words sound condescending. you refuse to look back up at the boy, shuffling closer to neteyams back.

lo’ak is too enamored with a girl to pay attention to what was going on. his round eyes watch her emerge from the water, which makes neteyam slyly smirk at his brother from his evident staring.

“it is too small. how do they swim with it? that one doesn’t even have a tail!” they keep throwing insults at you and the boys, pointing and cackling.

“enough! roxto, ao’nung.” the girl scolds the metkayina boys by slapping their hands.

so that what their names are.

the girl raises her eyes, making eye contact with lo’ak. “hey.” the younger sully boy awkwardly nods at her, making her giggle and look down.

you can’t help but stifle your laughter, making neteyam look down at you with the same look. your attention is quickly taken away from the budding romance by three large flying fish leaping over your heads.

a few droplets of water fall onto your face and before you could wipe them away, neteyam beats you to it by swiping his thumb across your salty skin.

a large metkayina man decorated in bright colored garb emerges from the sea- the olo’eyktan, the chief. your heart thumps rapidly against your rib cage as he grows closer to jake.

“tonowari, i see you.” jake signs to him, which the larger man quickly signs back. he makes the gesture to each family member, including you. his eyes linger on you for a moment, before continuing on. phew.

you know you don’t look like the others. your skin isn’t that beautiful shade of blue, but more resembling your mothers with darker opaque stripes on your skin.

a woman pushes her way through the crowd, her piercing gaze burning a hole through your clan. she does not look happy at the sight of the forest people on her turf.

“i see you, ronal.” jake bends down, as well as neytiri. the woman doesn’t reciprocate the greeting.

“why do you come to us, jake sully?” tonowari questions.

“we seek uturu.” jake gestures to his family.

“uturu?” the tsahìk looks baffled by jake’s sentence, and you can’t help but watch her reactions.

“a sanctuary for my family.” jake adds desperately.

“we are reef people. you are forest people. your skills will mean nothing here.” tonowari speaks, watching his mate weave throughout your clan with a demeaning stare.

“so we will learn your ways, right?” jake looks over at neytiri for help.

your breathing stops when ronal weaves through your group, her hand snatches neytiri’s tail to observe it before grabbing tuk’s arm to lift it.

“their arms are thin.” she moves onto kiri, gripping her tail painfully, “their tails are weak… you will be slow in the water.”

kiri protests as she pulls her tail out of ronal’s hands, furrowing her brows at the touchy lady.

the tsahìk grips kiri’s hand to show it off to her people, “these children are not even true na’vi. they have demon blood!”

her eyes dance over the forest people, before making contact with your own. her face drops as she looks you over, making your breathing halt in your chest as she rushes over to you.

“and they‘ve brought a demon with them!” she exclaims to her people, her hand strongly grips your wrist, jerking it into the air for everybody around you to gawk at.

gasps and hisses travel throughout the crowd at the sight of you, making your head hang in shame and tears spring to your eyes. you knew this would happen. they wouldn’t accept you for who you are. you’re considered an outsider, an enemy.

neteyam hisses as he yanks your wrist out of her grip, his arm protectively wraps around your shoulders to push you behind him. before she could argue with the boy, jake takes a step forward between the three of you.

“look! look!” jake lifts his hand to her face, showing off his five fingers as he flips his hand, “i was born of the sky people and now i am na’vi. her mother was born of the sky people and her father was a na’vi! alright, she can adapt. you can adapt. we all can adapt, okay?”

neytiri places her hand on your shoulder to comfort you before walking up to ronal, “my husband was toruk makto. he led the clans to victory against the sky people.”

ronal almost scoffs at her words, “this is what you call victory? hiding amongst strangers? it seems eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one.” she directs the nickname to jake in a derogatory tone.

neytiri’s shoulders push back as she hisses at her, causing ronal to hiss back just as angrily.

as the commotion ensues, you look up at neteyam with a weary look in your eyes. he can’t help but reciprocate as he glances at you, before going back to watching his parents with the leaders of the sea clan.

“toruk makto is a great war leader,” tonowari places his hand on jakes shoulder, “all na’vi people know his story.” he speaks to his people, “but we, metkayina, are not at war.”

tonowari turns to jake again, “we cannot let you bring your war here.”

his words make your heart drop, is he going to turn all of you away after this entire time?

“i’m done with war, okay?” sully holds tuk on his hip as he tries to explain himself, “i’m just- i’m just trying to keep my family safe.”

you gulp as tonowari and ronal share a few silent glances before she nods reluctantly, “toruk makto and his family will stay with us,” your body tenses up as he continues, “treat them as our brothers and sisters. they do not know the sea, so they will be like babies taking their first breath.” you wince at the comment.

“teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.” he stares down jake as the last word leaves his mouth.

jake let’s out a breath, a soft sound of disbelief. “what do we say?” he softly touches tuk’s shoulder.

“thank you.” she smiles up at the chief.

“my son ao’nung and my daughter tsireya will show your children and the girl what to do.” he gestures to them by his side.

“father, wha-” the boy goes to complain, but he’s cut off by the older man, “it is decided.”

the girl from the water smiles beautifully as she steps forward, almost excited to be in charge. “come. i will show you our village.”

tsireya leads everybody to their new home over a bouncy net material that hovers over the water. tuk starts to hop with one of her hand holding yours, even if your arms are full of supplies you bounce along with her.

tsireya stops in front of an empty marui with a big smile, “this is for you. your new home.”

jake says something you can’t make out, but you can tell by how neytiri drops the rug on the ground that she’s upset.

the rest of the day is taken up by unloading every piece of luggage into your new home, and setting up for the next day.

there’s one extra pod, where jake and neytiri will stay, that connects to the main room while the rest of you will find a spot in the large living area.

once your space is set up in the corner of the marui, you can’t help but walk outside to watch the sun sink into the horizon. you sit down on the bouncy weaved fabric, swinging your legs over the clear water.

the sun casts a golden hue over your skin, the warmth embraces you and pulls you in. you take a moment to breathe, to let your brain rest from all the commotion going on behind you.

the sully’s are having a family meeting, one you’d rather not be apart of. you can slightly overhear jakes voice, picking out some sentences.

“learn fast, pull your weight, don’t cause trouble, got it?”

you almost scoff at his orders, like they’ll listen to him- especially lo’ak.

“sully’s stick together.”

the saying makes your lungs pause mid-breath, and for some reason it makes your heart ache. you know the sully’s accept you, and they will always be there for you, but you’re different.

you’ll always be different, and today showed you that will never change.

a hand on your shoulder startles you, making you jump in your spot and looking behind you with frantic eyes.

your gaze softens when you see neteyam’s face, looking down at you with concern in his eyes. “are you alright?” he takes the quick moment between your response time to sit down next to you, his thigh pressed against the side of yours.

“i am…” you take a deep breath before continuing, “i’m just taking it all in. trying to think of all the good reasons why we’re here.”

his arm wraps around your shoulders, his forearm hanging over the front of you. instinctively, you lean into his chest, letting out a soft sigh.

just his touch alone relaxes you, bringing you to a tranquil state, “i’m sorry that they said those things about you. you know you’re not a demon, right?”

his words make you laugh slightly, “yes, i know i’m not a demon.” one of your arms snake around his back to hold onto him while the other rests on his thigh.

before either of you could say anything, someone walks up behind you both.

“you kids okay?” jake plops himself down beside neteyam, making you pull yourself slightly away of his embrace out of embarrassment.

“yes, sir.” you mumble, nodding your head as you sheepishly glance down at your feet hanging over the darkening water.

“it’s going to be hard for you to adjust to this lifestyle, kid. for all of us, but you especially.” jake talks directly to you, making your eyebrows furrow.

“just let me know if anyone… and i mean anyone gives you any trouble, okay?” jake gives you a curt nod, “thank you.” you mumble out gratefully, sending a smile his way.

“‘course. everyone is heading to bed now, so i’ll leave you kids to it… just uh.. be safe, yeah? don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.” jake looks at neteyam specifically, before slapping his hand down on his sons shoulder and standing up.

“dad.” neteyam hisses out in embarrassment, earning a chuckle from him as he walks inside the marui back to his family.

you laugh softly and lean back into neteyams side, arm returning to the spot around his waist. the two of you sit there in silence as the sky grows darker, listening to the soft waves breaking on the shore.

you let out a little yawn from your fatigue finally catching up to you. the grip around his waist loosens as your body succumbs to your exhaustion, making neteyam smile as your sleepy head bobs.

the sully boy gently lays both of yoh back on the netted structure you’re sitting on, positioning your head on his chest with his arm wrapped around your frame. his eyes attempt to fight the heaviness weighing down his eyelids, but it quickly pulls him under with you.

…..

“hey, wake up.” someone’s voice calls in your dream, “are you two alive? wake up!”

you suck in a sharp breath when the cushion underneath you is suddenly pulled out from under your head. the bright sun blinds you, almost making you hiss from the sensitivity. your hands come up to shield your eyes, squinting as you look around at the now brightened environment.

a large figure steps in front of the sun, casting a shadow on your body and forces the light to illuminate the back of their head. it’s neteyams dad.

where are you right now? why aren’t you in the marui? did you fall asleep outside?

“are you going to sleep all day or actually get up and do something with yourselves?” jake lectures with his hands on his hips.

you look over to your side, bumping your forehead on the sharp shoulder owned by neteyam. “ouch.” your voice cracks from your dry throat.

“your siblings are getting ready to go out in the water with tonowari’s children. i expect the two of you to go with them.”

oh wow, he’s being stern like a dad.. with you. your brain can barely comprehend any words right now from still being half-asleep.

“hello?” jake calls out into the silence.

“uhuuh yes sir. we’re getting up now.” neteyam spits something out, making you scramble to your feet along with him.

instead of getting up smoothly, you and neteyam’s limbs get tangled together causing you to topple back down to the ground. the bouncy material causes you both to fly into the air and back down on top of each other.

elbows dig into each others sides, knees clack together, and heads bang with a loud crack. you’re sitting in a jumbled mess, groaning and laughing in pain.

jake exhales loudly, one of his hands rub his temples in frustration. “just make sure you’re ready in five.” he starts to walk away, “i can’t deal with those two…” he mumbles to himself.

neteyam is the first to stand after your fit of giggles, picking you up along with him. he stumbles his way back into the pod with you before plopping your feet on the ground.

you stand tall, stretching your arms high above your head with a much-needed yawn. neteyam takes the opportunity to fit his head in the opening of your arms so he could give you a hug.

he nuzzles into your neck like a cat, rubbing his nose under your jawbone. “i don’t want to get ready.” his breath fans over your neck, making you shiver.

“me either. i don’t want to hang out with those kids.” you grumble which makes him chuckle and look down at you, “you don’t like someone?” he asks as if he’s surprised you’re being mean.

the gleam in his eyes makes your stomach flutter- as if he wants to devour you and worship you all at the same time. he leans forward to kiss you, his lips perfectly molding with yours.

neteyam takes his time kissing you, relishing in the fact that you’re here in this foreign village with him. he pulls back with a sigh, making your face crinkle with worry, “what’s wrong, nete?”

“it’s past five minutes.” he whispers teasingly, making your eyes roll.

“fine, i guess we should get ready.” you reluctantly pull out of his embrace to search for your things to get changed, forcing neteyam outside for your privacy.

you can hear muffled conversation from outside the pod, making you hurry up and scurry outside hoping it’s not his dad.

“come on, you skxwangs. we’re all waiting.” lo’ak gestures with his head for you two to follow him.

on the way there, you find kiri and tuk waiting. tuk squeals your name and practically jumps on you to hug you tightly. “oh hi, tuk!” you gently squeeze her.

“come on! they’re leaving without us!” she lets go to follow her brothers down to a deeper part of the water, almost a dock of some sort.

tsireya, ao’nung, and roxto are waiting at the end, their conversation stopping once they notice the five of you walking up.

“you guys ready?” she calls out with a dimpled smile.

“let’s go.” ao’nung and roxto dive into the water first. tsireya sighs, motioning with her hand for everyone to follow as she jumps in right behind them.

your heart skips a beat from the excitement of finally being able to swim, “come on!” you slap the back of your hand against neteyam’s chest before sprinting down to the end of the dock.

you leap into the air and let out a loud whooping yelp, before crashing into the ocean. once the bubbles around you clear up, the environment around you comes to life.

the terrain is so different from the forest, being underwater is the first, but there is so much life swimming every where around you.

you dive a little deeper, admiring the large colorful rocks and coral that decorate the sea floor and roots of the mangroves. that’s where you see tsireya and the two metkayina boys, ao’nung and roxto. above you, lo’ak and neteyam are slowly following with tuk floating right below the surface.

you continue to swim, your smaller limbs somehow keeping up with the natives. especially with your barely healed ankle. you spin around to swim on your back to glance up at the boys, smiling wide. your fingers wave at them, making lo’ak elbow neteyam in the side to look down at you.

after receiving a smile from your nete, your attention is taken away by a plant surrounded by fish that sparkle under the sunlight. you grin as they circle around your head before swimming way, blending in with the rest of ocean.

you glance up at neteyam and lo’ak and instead of meeting their eyes, you see their feet kicking as their heads stick above the water.

quickly, you push off the bottom of the ocean to send yourself upwards until your head breaches the surface.

“you alright?�� you breathe out heavily, inhaling some fresh air as your arms wade to keep you afloat.

“you’re so fast. how are you doing it?!” neteyam cackles at you as his hands reach to pinch your waist. you squeal and send a splash towards him.

“slow down! we can’t keep up.” tuk whines, making you paddle over to her, “do you want me to swim with you?” you happily offer.

she nods excitedly with a beam, her arms flying around your neck to hug you.

tsireya and the other two pop up, “are you guys okay?”

“yeah. they’re just not good at swimming.” you say playfully, earning a killer side eye from neteyam and lo’ak.

“maybe good at swinging through trees…” ao’nung says cockily, making his sister hit his head with her hand.

“come on, bro.” lo’ak grumbles.

“we don’t speak this finger talk.” neteyam motions with his hand, “i will teach you.” she replies.

“follow us. we’ll go slower.” tsireya smiles and nods before disappearing under the water again. you suck in a deep breath, grabbing tuk’s hand before ducking under the water with her.

tsireya leads all of you to a shallow sandbar where a few other metkayina are hanging about.

ao’nung is the first to stand up with the rest of you following behind. he clicks his tongue and whoops to summon three underwater animals.

“these are ilu. if you want to live here, you have to ride.” he explains to the group as the animals wait for instruction.

this is your first time making tsaheylu with an animal. your kuru has always been just like everyone else’s, encased in a long braid down your back.

tsireya leads lo’ak to one, while roxto helps neteyam. you’re left with ao’nung.

the metkayina boy gestures for you to follow him into the water, “have you ever made bond with an animal before?” he asks.

“no, i haven’t. this would be my first time.” you say a bit nervously. he almost chuckles, you can tell he holds himself back saying something smart. he leads you into the shallow part of the water, holding onto the animals neck to steady it for you.

“just climb on. gently.. gently.” he guides you onto its back until you’re straddling the saddle. he holds up the part of the animal where you connect your kuru to.

the pink tendrils emerge from the ends of your hair, tangling with the ilu’s.

your entire body goes still as your nervous systems become one, a shock of electricity buzzes throughout your nerve-endings. the animal chitters under your thighs, making you suck in a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

you can’t help but let out a happy laugh. you can feel the animals heartbeat in sync with your own, how it’s lungs expand with every inhale, breathing amongst yours.

“there you go.” ao’nung chuckles at your excitement, before slapping the back of the animal. it squaks and takes off, diving deep into the sea scarily fast.

the pressure of the water sends you flying off, twirling and spinning in as it leaves you in the dust. you kick with all of your might to make it to the surface, wanting to take a deep breath but instead you cough up water.

the salty liquid burns at your nostrils, making you gag as you try to breathe.

you make your way back to the sand bank, crawling up onto the wet sand and flopping onto your back. your chest heaves as you try to breathe normally, shielding your eyes from the sun beating down onto you.

tuk appears above you, seemingly upside down from your view. “are you okay?” her voice is full of worry as she looks over your face.

you can hear people cackling to the side, making your head turn towards the sound. it’s ao’nung and his stupid friends. you groan as you turn towards at the sky, squeezing your eyes shut. “yeah, tuk… i’m fine.” you breathe out.

you sit up with a painful whine, gripping your side as you stand up fully.

tsireya emerges from the water with a panting lo’ak, obviously he’s having some trouble too. “we can get started on learning how to hold your breath.”

your eyes dart around the area for neteyam, heart starting to race when you can’t find him.

“where is-?” you’re cut off by two hands slapping down on your shoulders, making you look up at whoever is behind you.

“where is who, hm?” neteyam flashes his smile down at you, his wet braids drip water droplets onto your warm skin. you let out a relieved breath when you realize it’s him, instantly leaning back into his chest.

his arms casually cross over your shoulders, holding you into place as he looks around at everyone. “so what are we doing next?”

“come.” tsireya motions with her hand to follow her. she leads the three of you onto some rocks, climbing over them and dodging the sharp edges with her feet.

kiri pops her head out of the water, calling to tuk so she can bring her back to the village. somehow the girl already found her own ilu after splitting from the group in the water. you know she has her own way of doing things, especially things that deal with nature.

you wave to them both before neteyam grabs your hand to pull you along with him.

tsireya, lo’ak and roxto are sitting in a circle on a flat part of the rocks. you sit down between neteyam and lo’ak, crossing your legs.

“breathe in…” tsireya puts one of her hands on her chest and the other on her belly as she inhales. you follow her movements, taking a deep breath and exhaling just like her. “and breathe out.”

her hand extends, holding something imaginary in her fingertips, “imagine a flickering flame. you must slow down your heartbeat.”

her eyes travel to lo’ak who was staring a hole into the side of her face. the boy stills as one of her hands press against his chest and the other against his stomach. “breathe in… breathe from down here. breathe out slowly..”

lo’ak continues to breathe with her instructions, but you can tell he is tense from how close she is.

“lo’ak, your heartbeat is fast.” she looks up at him.

“sorry.” he quickly looks away, “try to focus.” she mumbles as she intently listens to his breathing.

you glance up at neteyam and roxto, holding back a laugh as you breathe along with them. the tension between those two could be cut with a knife.

“let your mind go clear.”

after going through a few more breathing excercises with tsireya, she decides you’re all ready to practice the new techniques underwater. she summons the ilu’s to the surface, diving into the water and mounting onto the back of hers.

you take a deep breath before jumping into the water, using all your muscles to pull yourself onto the back of your own. once you make bond with the animal, the similar shiver bolts down your spine. you gently pet the animals head, smiling as you internally calm them down.

someone’s eyes burn into your skin, making you look to either side of you. neteyam is staring at you with a proud grin on his face, sitting on the saddle of his ilu. he sends a wink your way before diving under the water, making you gasp.

you’re right behind him, diving straight down into the water. your ilu know to swim faster because you want to catch up to him and this time, you make sure to hold on tight.

you chase him around a tall root of a mangrove, your hand reaches out to try and grab his tail but the boy is way too fast.

neteyam makes a sharp turn upwards, bolting towards the surface where tsireya and lo’ak are sitting. you roll your eyes and follow, breaching the surface with a big inhale of fresh air.

“you scared i was going to catch up to you?” you tease him, leaning forward on your saddle to look past lo’ak’s body to talk to neteyam on the other side.

“scared? i’m just too fast foryou.” he replies arrogantly, making you playfully gasp in shock.

“low blow, bro.” lo’ak laughs.

“say that three times fast. i dare you, lo’ak.” you squint at the younger brother, earning a splash of water sent your way.

“on that note, i’m going back to the village.” your ilu starts to swim forward slowly, “you guys coming?”

neteyam starts to follow you, but the other two stay behind. “i’m going to help lo’ak with his breathing. we’ll be right behind you guys.” tsireya smiles at the two of you.

neteyam and you share a silent glance before shrugging and taking off under the water. the two of you chase each other until you meet the waters edge, hopping off in the shallow water and swimming the rest of the way to shore.

neteyam helps you walk as you tread through the wet sand, laughing and giggling about the day.

“and then.. and then you went like this!” you motion with your hands as if they were the two of you underwater. your hands cross over each other as you demonstrate to him how you swam together.

as both of you walk farther up the beach, you finally realize that less and less metkayina are around you.

you lift your eyes up from your hands, darting around to see them scurry out of your way. as if you were diseased. your heart drops to your feet and your hands fall to your sides, slapping against your upper thighs.

“don’t worry about them. keep going.” neteyam urges you, one of his hands come up to your shoulder to pull you closer to him.

“i just can’t believe they’re still so afraid. if i was going to do something to them, i would have done it already.” you huff out in frustration, continuing to walk up towards the village.

neteyam leads you back to the marui, his arm sits around your shoulders. almost possessively, to show that you are not to be messed with.

when you walk inside you see kiri, who perks up at your presence, “i was waiting for you! come!” she jumps up from her spot on the floor, grabbing your wrist to pull you out of neteyams grasp.

“hey! where are you going?” he calls after you, making you turn your head and shrug.

“somewhere you don’t need to be!” kiri calls back to him, making you giggle as you follow her. she continues to pull you along to the end of the walkway, hopping off into the white sand.

“kiri, what are we doing?” you softly laugh as you stumble through the sand behind her, “i just need to show you something.”

your eyebrows furrow, but you continue to oblige. she pulls you down into the clear water, landing on her knees. “look!” she dunks her head underwater, staring at something in the sand.

you follow her movements, pressing your face into the cool water as you lay on your stomach.

she points at a tiny pinhole in the sand, almost barely visible to the naked eye. as the gentle waves caress the back of your head, and over the two of you, a little bubble pops on the surface of the hole.

kiri smiles wide, pulling her head to talk to you. “did you see it?”

you sit up, resting back on your heels and blinking a few times as you try to understand why she’s so excited about a bubble. “i did.”

“you think it’s stupid, don’t you.” she sighs, shaking her head. “no! kiri, i don’t. of course, i don’t.” you shake your head, grabbing her wrist to hold her hand.

before either of you could respond, you see something poking out of the hole. kiri hushes you and plunges her face into the water to watch a little claw extend from it.

you can’t help but play along, putting your face into the water to watch the creature emerge. until it sees two giant faces hovering above, and scurries back into its home.

the two of you lay there, feet kicking above the water as you watch the bubbles pop and the creature tease you by popping out and going back in. it’s quite therapeutic actually. just laying here and watching bubbles.

muffled conversation and splashing grows louder in the water as a few pairs of feet come closer to you and kiri. your head is the first to emerge from the water, blinking away the liquid from your lashes.

oh great mother. it’s ao’nung and his friends. this isn’t going to be good.

“huh? what’d you say?” kiri is the first to speak as she sits back on her legs, looking up at the group of boys.

you sit up along with her, staring up at them as your heart pounds. you’re ready to fight if they try anything.

“are you guys some kind of… freaks?” ao’nung asks as if it was a serious question.

“he asked if you are a freak.” roxto repeated the question, like the little ass-kisser that he is.

your eyebrows furrow as you scoff, your hand grips kiri’s to pull her out of the water and up toward the dry sand.

“no, we are not.” kiri rolls her eyes as you drag her up to the shore.

“are you sure? i mean you’re not even real na’vi, and that one isn’t even supposed to be here.” the boy continues to make fun, but all you do is tune it out.

“come on, kiri. let’s go.” you try to pull her along but he continues his rant, “the demon speaks!” he exclaims as the cackling boys crowd around you, harboring you both in the middle.

“i mean look at her! her skin isn’t even the same as ours, and look at their hands! i mean look at them!” ao’nung reaches out to grip kiri’s wrist while another boy grabs yours.

you attempt to pull away, but his strength is too hard to overcome.

“hey!” someone shouts from across the beach, making your worried eyes look behind you. the boy let’s go of kiri, but the one holding onto you doesn’t let go just yet.

it’s lo’ak. oh eywa this isn’t going to end up well.

“back off, fish lips.” lo’ak walks up to ao’nung who looks down at the sully boy, “oooh look another freak.”

roxto grabs lo’aks tail, “aww, look at his little baby tail!”

he quickly turns around and pushes him off, “don’t touch me.”

the boy holding onto you pushes you to the ground as he lets go of you, making you grunt as your body comes in contact with the sand.

kiri runs to your side to help you stand up, glancing over at lo’ak getting surrounded by the group, “leave us alone!” she yells at them, but her voice falls to deaf ears.

your ears twitch when you hear fast footsteps approaching from behind you, making your head spin around to see neteyam marching forward.

one of his hands grip ao’nung’s shoulder to pull it back before pushing him, making the boy take a step back.

“you heard what she said.” neteyam points at him, pressing his index finger against his chest, “leave them alone.”

another one of ao’nungs minions starts to say something, but he raises his hand to shut him up.

“back off. now.” he shoves his finger against his chest harder. ao’nung stares at neteyam with his head cocked to the side before raising his hands in surrender with a little smirk.

“smart choice.” neteyam takes a step back, his head turning to look over you and kiri, “and from now on. i need you to respect them, and keep your hands off of them.”

one of the boys hiss at neteyam, making you grimace in disgust. kiri sticks her tongue out at him as you flip them the bird, knowing they probably have no idea what that means.

“let’s go.” neteyam says, letting lo’ak pass him, then kiri and you. he puts an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side as you walk away.

“you okay?” he asks you quietly. all you can do is nod, and wrap your arms around his waist and smoosh your face into his side.

“buh-bye!” one of them call out sarcastically.

“look at them. they’re all freaks. the whole family.” ao’nung comments as you walk away.

lo’ak stops in his tracks, taking a deep breath as he turns on his heel.

“lo’ak.” neteyam warns him to stop.

“i got this, bro.” he raises a hand as if that would stop neteyam from worrying.

he waltz right up to ao’nung, “i know this hand is funny. look, i’m a freak. an alien.” he holds up his pinky, wiggling it in the air.

“but it can do something really cool. watch.” he starts tightening his hand into a fist, “first, i ball it up real tight, like this.”

“and then..” he cranks his arm back and throws a hard punch right into ao’nungs jaw. the boy stumbles back in shock before another fist is slammed against his face, and another.

the last one sends the boy down to the ground, blood seeping from his nose. “it’s called a punch, bitch! don’t ever touch them again.”

ao’nung hops up and growls loudly at him before tackling lo’ak to the ground. lo’ak somehow gets on top of the boy before he’s pulled off by his tail.

neteyam sighs and scratches his head, knowing he’s going to have to help. he pulls away from you and storms into the fight. you and kiri watch with wide eyes as neteyam throws a few heavy-handed punches and kicks before he is pummeled to the ground as well.

“stop it!” kiri tries to call out to them, but of course they don’t listen.

“so stupid.” you grumble with your hands on your hips as you watch it play out.

you and kiri start to giggle as they drag each other by tails and ears across the sand, making them scream out in pain.

“hey, hey! stop! break it up!” jake storms forward, pushing the boys away from each other.

some metkayina boys scurry away, running into the village. lo’ak has to be peeled away from ao’nung, while neteyam stands and surrenders with his hands up.

neteyam and lo’ak are ushered back to camp away from the fight and past you and kiri.

after the boys are lectured and forced to apologize to the chief’s son, neytiri makes you and kiri help with making food.

you can’t help but think about everything they said to you and kiri.

calling you a demon, and her not a true na’vi. making fun of how you both have five fingers instead of four, how your skin isn’t the same color as theirs.

you didn’t even realize tears were dripping down your cheeks until kiri lays her head on your shoulder, hugging you from the side. she lets out a loud sigh, making neytiri’s eyes rise from the food she’s wrapping in front of her.

“what is wrong?” she asks, completely disregarding the food now.

“nothing.” kiri dismisses the question, as your head hangs low to hide your face. obviously something is wrong, but neytiri doesn’t want to push it.

it’s barely been two days, and all you want to do is lay back in the lush grass, smell the earth and dirt around you and feel the soft sun rays kiss your skin.

the weather here is harsh, and the ground is gritty and seems to settle in the worst spots. you want your forest back, to be able to leap from tree to tree with neteyam, kiri, and lo’ak.

you want to be with neteyam, to watch him grow into his position as olo’eyktan. you knew that these reef people would never accept you; you’re an outsider, a half breed, alien, and a sky demon. you’ll never be more to them than that.

as the sky transforms from blue into pinks and oranges, you finally finish your chores. neytiri and kiri leave the pod to deliver the food, leaving you alone in the marui. you walk over to your corner to sit down on your blanket and pull a book out of your pack to read. you sit back against a pillow that is supported by the wall.

a human book nonetheless; one that norm gave you before you left home. neteyam plops down next to you, almost ignoring him from how immersed you are in the book.

the boy pulls you into his side, almost half on his chest. “what are you reading?” his eyes skim the page as he rests his chin on top of your head.

“something norm gave me. about uh, science stuff.” you laugh.

“what kind of science stuff?” he questions.

“cells… and humans… and anatomy…” you breathe out.

“sounds boring.” he hums.

“it’s not that boring. it’s about my body. maybe you should read it to learn more about it.” you tease him slightly, making the boy slightly stiffen under your weight.

“give me that.” he snatches it from your hands, pulling it up to his height. “oh it says here… that when you are being clingy and annoying it means you only want one thing.”

your eyebrows furrow, spinning around in your spot to stare at him. “and what is it?”

“me.” he chuckles, handing the book back to you.

you snatch the book from the air, eyes skimming over the page to see what he was reading but it’s all about cells and mitosis. nothing about what you need.

“ugh! you ass!” you slam the book shut and throw it to the side. you can’t help but take the opportunity to climb on top of him, straddling his waist since that you’re finally alone together.

his hands find your hips instantly, holding onto your body tight. your eyes dance across his features, looking over his swollen lip that was cut open during the fight and the bruises slowly becoming more evident on his blue skin.

“what’re you staring at?” he questions with his big round eyes looking over your face too.

“you.” you giggle out, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his lips. he winces slightly from the pain, making you pull back.

“no, no. i don’t want to stop kissing you.” his voice is breathy as he leans forward to capture your lips with more force this time.

he ignores the pain, kicking it to the back of his mind as he deepens the kiss. he hasn’t been able to kiss you like this in forever, everything has been so chaotic.

“do you realize how hot it was to see you fight for me today?” you mumble into the kiss, making him pull back slightly.

“it was hot?” he asks with a laugh.

“so hot.” you nod, grabbing his face with your hands to pull him back to you. one of his hands slither away from your hips, up your spine and to the back of your top.

his fingers play with the threads, ready to untie it before someone clears their throat to the side. you practically throw yourself off of neteyam, scared that it’s one of his parents.

“aye!” he calls out as you fling yourself backward, following you down to the ground to cushion your fall with his hands. this puts you both in the worst position with your legs wrapped around his hips and him on top of you.

his head turns towards the person standing at the entrance, his features contorting in anger. “what are you doing here?”

it’s ao’nung.

“look, i’m sorry for interrupting whatever that was…” the bruised boy holds back a laugh, “but it’s about your brother.”

neteyam looks down at you with disappointment written across his features. he lets out a loud sigh before standing up and walking outside to talk to the boy, “this better be good.”

while they’re both outside, you get yourself situated back on top of your blanket, watching the conversation grow more heated by the second.

you don’t expect neteyam to grip the back of ao’nungs neck to push him forward and lead him down to jake sitting with kiri near the water.

you fly up onto your feet, scurrying forward to follow him. but jake is already storming away with ao’nung, flying right past you with neteyam following.

kiri jogs up to you, her hand coming up to rest on your upper arm. her eyes are wide with panic, and her body slightly trembling from the bad news ao’nung must’ve just told them.

“it’s lo’ak. he went outside of the reef and he’s missing.”

tags: @k----a27s @aspenreadsfanfic @aliseaaah @bellwhether @xoxobabe @koalalafications @embersfae @mae-is-crazy @softhetixx @minkyungseokie @iwanttohitmyself @neqeyam @lovedbychoi @lala-1516

note: hope u guys liked this one!! obvs there will be another part so if you wanna be tagged inbox me or comment <333

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nouearth · 9 months

Text

the remedy for guilt.

clark kent x male reader.

summary: guilt, pain, and shame consumes clark as his nightmares have been haunted by the memory of lois.

wc: 2.5k. genre: angst, comfort. warnings: cavill!clark, clark has ptsd, nightmares, topic and depictions of death, mentions of blood and wounds.

request.

thunder blared and cracked to the man’s startle, and immediately, the sky unlocked with a haze, ghastly as if stolen from humanity. spirits of hard rain quickly crashed onto metal gates, barriers that ward off trespassers, and came down harder onto carved stones. it sank into the heart of earth after.

it was an orthodox setting some have found comfort in after painful months of mourning. clark wondered how incredibly cathartic mother nature’s tears would feel on his skin once it was his turn.

he flinched when a droplet does—burned—and the wind heckled.

in loving memory of lois lane, it was carved beautiful like her handwriting. she was always in a rush, chasing after the biggest scandals with a notepad in her hand, yet the scribe flowed with impressive structure, prideful in every stroke of her pen. kneeling on one leg, without a care that mud had inked uncomfortably into his pants, clark caressed the engraving of lois’ name, gently as if it was skin—her skin, and the gale laughed—louder now.

“—got you these flowers,” clark bitterly chuckled, gently waved the wrapped bundle of cream and pink rosebuds that the wind was sure to have blown away by now if it weren’t for his clench on them. “figured these colors would be a nice change of pace, so…”

the thunder approved clark’s choice of flowers.

“i’ll get going soon, but i just wanted to see you one more time before—“ the gale blew stronger, lifted clark’s bangs and almost his glasses, but they soon found refuge in his breast pouch. there was a beat of silence as the wind sang, unusual in its whistles. “before i head back to—“

there it was again.

a gentle croak that harmonized with the wind.

someone’s hurt. struck by lighting, maybe? if being drenched in the rain hadn’t strung him back to reality, the eery sound of help definitely woken clark to his senses. he was vigilant, carefully scanning his surroundings with his x-ray vision.

nothing out of the ordinary—

“help,” a voice squeaked from somewhere, barely audible, but clark managed to filter the gust out. he spun in place when a whisper attacked one ear then the next. defensively, he lifted himself off the ground and scanned the gravesite from a higher viewer. alert, yet calm.

no one.

“please, speak up!” clark roamed in the air, inspected every corner. the wind and rain fogged his endeavor, but he was determined. it grew louder now after several patrols, and relief settled because he was getting closer.

“help me,” it whispered in the fog, and the haze grew thicker, heavier. “please, help me. i can’t breathe!” it cried out now, desperate because safety was near, yet so far away. “please, where are you?!” it pleaded.

“I’m coming, stay put!” clark shouted, and he flew down, a bewildered frown etched into his face when the mist barricaded his arrival, knocking him back. “what the—“

it was like touching an invisible shield when clark curiously reached out, pressing a palm into nothing. thick air swallowed his hand and he pulled back when another cry startled. “hurry, please! i-i think I’m going to—” it choked.

“i—“ clark ascended higher now, challenged by the mystical fog. he was absolutely clueless, puzzled, but was later comforted because force was always on his side.

“i’m here!” the clock ticked in his head. thunder and lightning shook the atmosphere of earth, and the rain hit clark’s skin like bullets as he rushed down the gravesite, punching through the several layers of air. one by one, they unfurled, and clark grunted as if it could boost his strength at the very last layer. “please! help! oh god, i—”

“you’re…” it was sheer, unveiling the field of gravestones, and he could see something moving, waving, but the rain blurred his vision. “you’re…” the voice weakened.

harder now, clark punched several more times with a battle cry louder than the previous, through gritted teeth enough to break bone, and the fog cowered at the very last second, thinning in wispy strides from his force. the swing from his arm pulled him to the source with incredible force. it was out of his control now, the wind yanked, then drove him to the ground, dragging clark across the muddy field. absolute black had entered his vision, and he could only breathe. breathe in mud, rain, grass, as he was pulled everywhere but nowhere, yet somehow closer to the source of those dreadful cries.

“you’re...”

the voice croaked over him as clark was grounded, blindly face-planted into the soils until he wasn’t. his head slowly lifted by an unspeakable force, and the cry continued to creak like nails on a chalkboard, unbearably closer to his face. a cold breath bit at his skin and as if the spell was broken, clark snapped his eyes opened.

it was horrid. it took every little breath clark had in him, and he tried to shut his eyes. he couldn’t. the spell hadn’t been broken. it was a mere glamor as clark’s eyes began to stung, brimmed with tears as he was bewitched to stare into the bloody corpse of his former lover. “you were,” the more it croaked, layers of skin cracked and peeled off. clark shuddered, his eyelids unwillingly pulled to the heavens as he watched lois’ broken skin unveil bloody wounds, then flesh, then bone, as she ascended higher before him, like a deity, until his head was thrown back.

“TOO LATE.” the voice crackled like the thunder before it, and her corpse crumbled into ashes, spilling onto him like heavy rain.

a guttural inhale stirred you from your dreams, flinching, but it was the sudden movements within the bed that woke you into a fright, scrambling you in bed. equally, clark’s silhouette sat up and slumped against the headboard as he paced his breath. in and out, his pants began to slow, but it was the flicker of the lamp, unveiling reality, and then the warmth of your hand on his chest that pacified him.

“clark,” your voice made him turn and he watched you simulate a regular breathing pattern before following your guidance. “slow, just like that.” your hand rested over his beating heart, aiding its journey to its regular pace with calming strokes, while you held his distraught with assurance, locking it into a vault when you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. a job well-done, but also a measure to bring him back.

his breath was warm against yours, and he muttered a soft apology before pulling away, but keeping your hand to his chest, appreciative but silently afraid of letting you go.

“water?” before he could answer, you offered your cup of water that’s been sitting at the bedside table, and with two quick gulps, he soothed his throat.

it was a routine at this point. not every day, but at least once a week, clark would get night terrors that would startle you awake. others would’ve found it incredibly annoying, but you could never bring yourself to that thought. after what clark had told you, it would’ve been incredibly wounding for you to.

“i’m sorry,” clark sighed and pressed a warm hand to your cheek. you shook your head against it, mustering up a tired smile before pressing a kiss into his palm. he only pulled you closer to his side as you both lay breathless in bed. “let’s go back to sleep—“

“hah, you and i both know that won’t be happening.” chuckling, you playfully pushed him away before laying his head on your lap. he does so without any complaints, and an appreciative kiss to your stomach pressed. clark was always so protective of you, it was the least you could do for him. “want to talk about it?”

“no, it’s just…” clark’s gaze drafted to the wrinkles of your shirt, then he spent the majority of the silence inhaling your scent. it assured him that you were here—still here.

your fingers threaded through his locks in soothing rhythms, but clark’s frown remained. “lois again?”

“i didn’t mean to—“ he looked up, apologetic in the weary state of his gaze.

“clark,” your palm gently applied pressure to his temple, and you couldn’t help but to kiss him once more, then his nose, then his forehead, before pulling away. “she’s not… she shouldn’t be treated as if she didn’t exist.”

“I know,” clark hummed, agreeing yet reluctantly so. the strokes to his head—your touch—crumbled the protective walls of his nightmares and dreams, and a vault, mainly consisting of his insecurities and guilt, unlocked. “i know…”

one would agree that it was weird, offensive even, to talk about your ex-partner, more so if they had passed away. it gave the message that they still clung onto them, that they still loved them, that you were brought into someone’s life solely to fill that missing puzzle in their life. you’ve admitted that you struggled with that before, your self-esteem took a dive because you compared yourself to the impact she made on clark’s life. envious, you teared over.

but you’ve accepted it now. because clark’s dreams of lois wasn’t because he needed to replace her. the more he awakened you with his night terrors, it was telling that he was haunted by guilt—consumed by it. it ate him up on the inside. where the happiness that you would fill clark was immediately swallowed by regret, because the voice told him that he didn’t deserve to be happy.

clark agreed.

“i killed her, didn’t i?” his voice animated like the soft wrinkles on your shirt.

“you know that’s not true,” you frowned, and you pressed your palm to his cheek. “clark.”

“if i had been there quicker, if i had been stronger, if i had—“

“if you had abandoned the hundreds—thousands—of people in the city?” you questioned his blame, and he once again, looked up at you. orbs wet, glistening under the shade of dim lights. a sigh left your lips, and you continued the stokes to his head. “i know you’re superman, and… and you feel like you have to do everything—like you can do everything.”

“for the most part, you can.” your voice softened as well as your touch, until it came to a halt. warmth seeped into his head as you rested upon it. “but it’s frankly impossible to save everyone, you know that. and from what you’ve told me about lois, she would’ve wanted this outcome.”

“(m/n),”

“she probably would’ve forced you to, if i’m being honest.” you chuckled, and looked down at him, into his sober orbs. “and i could never, ever, know what you are going through. to have the safety of the planet fall on your shoulders. to fight those who try to destroy our planet. to take the life of those who do. to play god.”

“but what i do know is that,” clark gazed up now, his turn to caress your cheeks while you closed your eyes to the roughness of his hand. to the warm touch that has become a memory you would yearn for on a daily basis. “it’s not your fault. you had the impossible decision to choose between thousand of lives versus the love of your life, and i’d reckon you’d feel guilt either way, clark. and i’d also reckon that…”

“hm?”

your forehead pressed to his while his hand maintained on your cheek, and you blindly kissed at whatever was in front. his nose, lips, cheeks, features that you felt and cherished with all of your heart. all of your being. “you and lois knew the lives of thousands mattered the most.”

“i wouldn’t have had to make that decision had i been stronger, though.” clark reasoned, pulling away to sit up now, because guilt ate him again, as soon as you fed him his innocence. “if i was smarter, i would’ve been ten steps ahead. i would’ve figured out that the sun could heal me, to grant me more powers, to—”

“clark,” his mutters halted when you touched him again. though his back faced you, he knew the look you were giving him as he stared blankly, achingly into the wall. reassuring strokes lined his broad back before you leaned your forehead on it. “you can’t change the past.”

“it’s not about changing the past, it’s about,” he was frustrated, apologetic, sorrowful, all in one, and clark buried his face into his palms, muttering. “it’s about you. i can’t let it happen again. what if i lose you too?”

“you’re not going to lose me, clark.”

“we don’t know that—“ he sighed, lifting his head up, and then peered back at you. his wrinkles have never forested deeper, and exhaustion seeped into the fine lines. “it would break me. i wouldn’t know how to move on with myself, how to live, how to—“

“if that day ever comes, then i’m telling you now that i want you to make the right decision.” your arms wrapped around his waist, embracing him with the utmost warmth because in the pit of your stomach, in your deepest worries, you were afraid too. he was right. you never know if something might happen. whether from another attempted destruction of the world, or a simple heart attack, life was short.

“i need to keep you safe.”

“you already do, clark. and if something were to happen to me, then i trust that you will do your best to spare me from looking at death in the eye.” but clark’s hold to your hands sobered you, the warmth and beloved roughness like a potion, broke you free of those reckless thoughts, and you melted soft kisses along his upper back in appreciation, sighing. “but until then, i don’t want you spending the rest of your life worrying about me.”

“it’s my job to.” clark mindlessly played with your fingers, thinner than his. “to worry.”

“i know,” you squeezed tighter around him. “but i fell in love with clark kent, not the man of steel.”

“but—“

“if it’s my time to go, i don’t want you looking back at how we should’ve made more memories. you don’t need any more powers than you already have, clark.” you assured him with another kiss to his shoulder, and despite his refusal, he melted, leaning back into you. “you’ve kept me safe as you already are, and you will continue doing so until my very last breath.”

“until your very last breath…” he repeated, but you can hear the bitterness in his tone. chuckling, you soothed him with another kiss, to his other shoulder now.

“and until my last breath, i promise to also protect you as you will protect me. i may not be as strong as you are, and i may not be the sun that heals you.”

“(m/n),”

“but when the time comes, i assure you that your guilt will not be anchored to me. that you will no longer suffer because of me.”

“because i trust you.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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guacamoleroll · 10 months

Note

hi muse! could you possibly write a dazai oneshot where he takes care of the reader after a hard day? lots of angst please. thank you! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊, 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖆𝖙 𝖒𝖊 「𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔲 𝔡𝔞𝔷𝔞𝔦」 ༉‧₊˚

content. gn!reader. hurt no comfort, death of a child (not your child), ambiguous unhappy ending, mourning. not proofread.

author's note. i highly suggest reading this with laufey in the background. i accidentally made myself cry a bit.

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

The buzz of infectious energy that normally surrounded the agency had abandoned the hearts of each individual, leaving in its wake a trail of mindless typing and mournful sighs. An unrelenting clock ticked onward. It had started as an average morning, with some agents assigned to a simplistic mission regarding another dangerous ability user. The same old routine. However, something was different — something had gone awry.

In the events of the morning, a child had been killed in the crossfire.

You couldn't help but remember the expression of the parents, watching sorrowfully from the windows above as Kunikida broke the news. Your trembling fingers closed the window and pushed the others away as the mother's hollered cries echoed across the street, wailing for a life that had been lost too soon.

The rest of the hours had been a complete blur, your numb mind forcing you to follow the routine as it hazed in synchrony with the pouring rain above. You wanted to embrace that rain, to feel the water slick the hair against your neck as it chilled your skin. To feel your brain blank as lightning scattered in the sky, to lay in the puddles as you succumbed to the storm. But there was no time to grieve a life that had barely intertwined with yours, one that had crossed paths with your own by sheer coincidence.

Still, you couldn't help the occasional quiver of your lips, biting back the urge to scream into that same storm but not having the strength to even try. And so you carried on, your body working mechanically as your mind strayed far away. It needed to be a normal day — if you just pretended it was, then it would be. The hours ticked by, blurred footsteps blending together until you found yourself inside the kitchen you shared with Dazai — the young detective stood and watched carefully from the entrance of your apartment.

"I'm gonna start dinner. Do you want crab or-"

"Stop."

You paused as you were rustling through the ingredients, his stern tone rattling your already cracking foundation.

"(Name), look at me."

An invisible hand squeezed at your throat, any words that you tried to muster failing to leave your lips as your eyes scrambled to find something to save you from looking at him. You wouldn't look at him; you couldn't. It would break you.

"I don't - I don't think we have enough radishes left. I'll have to - have to go to the store." You pivoted on your heel, the door feeling too far as your footsteps pounded heavily against the floor. You refused to look at him. "I'll be back home in a bit."

"(Name)." A bandaged hand caught your own.

"Stop pretending you're okay."

You struggled to swallow down your shattered heart, the jagged edges painfully scraping against your throat as it clung to the air. Hands gathered your own — warm hands that kneaded and pressed circles into your cold, shaking ones. You trembled at his gentle touch, your heart yearning to succumb to his comfort as your mind prayed that he would slap you out of your emotional stupor. But he would never do that. Not now. Not to you.

"Baby," his voice shook ever-so-slightly. "Look at me."

A soft touch brushed against your chin, slowly tilting your head so that your matching pairs of somber eyes could meet. Your lashes fluttered stubbornly, but you were unable to hold back anymore as your heart leaked from inside your chest. You leaned into him, hiding your face from the rain.

"It's not fair," you croaked.

He brought you in further by the waist, nestling his nose against the crook of your neck as he held you tight. He kissed your shoulder with firm protectiveness, but even you could feel the way his lips trembled against your skin. The dreary weather worsened out the window, enveloping you both in a reality neither of you wanted to accept. And in that sorrow, you stayed, knowing that there was nothing you could do.

"I know."

#muse's anthology ‧₊˚ ⋅#starring: dazai .ೃ࿐#gn!reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai bsd

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lucentclan · 7 months

Text

well! i wasnt expecting this-

I wrote a little snippit for this that I'll put it under the cut, I'm so upset over them you have no idea

despite the war between Lucentclan and Fernclan being over, Newtstar decides that he, Pepperflare, and Violethope will go patrol the borders one last time before the sun goes down. They don't realize the scent of rain or the clouds forming in the distance, as they're crossing the beach, rain begins falling heavily and weighing down their pelts.

"Newtstar!" Pepperflare calls over the now howling wind, anxiety pricking in her paws as the rain brings back unwanted memories of Sablepaw being washed away in a flood four moons ago. "We should really go back to camp! I don't have a good feeling about this."

Newtstars ears flick in acknowledgement, "we need to be sure that Fernclan isn't up to anything. I won't lose anymore cats to those fox-hearts!" He argues back, claws digging into the sand as he thinks of their previous medicine cat, Rippleclaw.

"No sane cat will be out in this weather!" Pepperflare insists, "Especially Fernclan cats! They hate water!"

"I agree with Pepp-" Violethope begins, her meow quickly cut off by a deafening crash and flash of lightning. In the distance, the sound of trees cracking and breaking echo down the mountains.

All three clancats freeze, heads snapping to the horizon where they see a massive wave of water quickly making its way down the hill, rocks, trees, and other natural debris coming along with it. The clancats barely have time to process what was happening before the water reaches them and sweeps them off their paws and into the unforgiving ocean. Their lungs fill with freezing saltwater as they cry out for starclan to save them to no avail.

Newtstar is the first to open his eyes, the yellow a sharp contrast to the darkness around him. Stars now shine in his pelt, and reflect in his eyes as he takes in the vaguely familiar area. He had been here when he lost his first life protecting his clan from a dog the same moon Rippleclaw had been found dead on Fernclans border. It had been nice to see the tom again to be assured that he wouldn't be alone, their starclan guide, and Newtstars own kin, Shardfoam being there to keep him company.

He sits and sighs, watching the water drip from is glimmering pelt and dissappear into the stars beneath his paws. He couldn't help but feel as if he had let his clan down.

Pepperflare and Violethope join him soon, appearing with splashes of salt water and gasping breaths that didn't take any oxygen. The she-cats meet eyes for a moment, confused as they look towards their leader.

They realize the stars at the same time, dismay filling them. Quietly, they step forward to sit beside their leader in quiet mourning.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way," A familiar voice says, a cream tabby tom stepping into sight. Sympathy reflecting in his grey eyes as he looks at the warriors. Beside the medicine cat is a younger spotted gray apprentice, Sablepaw, who is looking at them with the same sympathetic look.

"Rippleclaw! Sablepaw!" Newstar cries, standing. "Whats going on? We can't actually be dead, right? What about my other seven lives?" The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them, needing answers. Beside him, Pepperflare tries to speak but just hacks up a mouthful of water. Violethope remains quiet.

Rippleclaw sighs, "Unfortunately there was no way for starclan to bring your body back, it was washed too far out to sea for it to be possible." He steps to the side, the area behind him now streching out into a vast area, stars littering ground. This was starclans hunting grounds. The medicine cat dips his head, tears in his eyes as his friends try to process their deaths, "Welcome to starclan, my friends. Here you can watch over and guide Lucentclan."

Down below the sky, Quailcall sits outside the medicine den, blue eyes watching the entrance of the camp. It's been far too long since the patrol had left, and the elder was starting to get a bad feeling. He looks up at the dark clouds as it stormed and shakes out his pelt before standing and turning to enter the den.

Sparkfire lays in a nest against the far wall, curled up tightly as she sleeps through the infection in her wounds. The she-cat twitches and whimpers in her sleep, shifting slightly. The tom silently makes his way to sit beside the nest, watching the slow rise and fall of Sparkfires back, half expecting it to stop at any moment.

Quailcall looks towards the entrance of the den once more, dread filling his belly. "Starclan help us." He says quietly before curling up close to the deputy and shuts his eyes in an attempt to sleep until the patrol returns.

sorry for the short fic but i wanted to write for this moon soo bad and got carried away.

What will Sparkfire and Quailcall do now?

#clangen #lucentclan #newtstar #pepperflare #sparkfire #sablepaw #rippleclaw #violethope #feel free to send asks or ask me to write more for a specific cat

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picturesofthegoneworlds · 4 months

Note

If you are still taking prompts: 'new mythologies', focused on the witchy trio. Curious to see what you come up with if you wind up selecting this prompt! I greatly enjoy your writing. :)

There is a woman in the moon (the second moon, that is.) she waxes, she wanes shies and flares but she always stays tethered to one spot and tired of running away. Where she paused her orbit centuries ago crystal arms and legs sprout from the grass and the tides of rivers are pulled, evaporate from heat into clouds that mass. If you do no cover her from your view you will not sleep if you look to someone with her over their shoulder you will not need to speak and if her lightning were to strike, the gemstone-limb-lands will become the petrified home you did not seek.

There is a woman in the sun (there is a second-sun, too.) feels close enough to reach, though she can’t be lassoed she doesn’t spend all of her days here steals - what is offered - takes, often disappears to a more peculiar sky where she instead anchors in time and the flora and fauna with petal trumpets and sinew harps dance and dine on top of beds of canopied candied leather leaves and filigree skeleton branches then returns, here, intermittently, with what she had taken and what was newly granted jewellery adorning flaming tendrils that smelts and pours liquid gold between the fault lines and the landfills Sometimes the sun stays late to greet the moon, others she arrives early to share the sky of the long summer days with her But the sky is still a sky they cannot often share, so once a century they shadow one another reach out for each other with hands of flame and lightning when their fingers converge they tie in knots and bows, in threads red and ribbons green and all who are bound will be unaware, gift-wrapped in what is reality and what is dream can unveil bliss or purgatory there in the in-between- - there is a woman in the sun, another in the moon. They have been there longer than I can remember… longer than my mother can and hers, too

There is a woman in the moon and she is always blushing ‘Red sky at night - shepherd’s delight Red sky at morning - shepherd’s warning’ mourning a crack, a howl, a breeze can be heard from the densest of city cobblestones and the highest of mountain peaks a lonely tune bereft of its melody searches out shadow and turns it to static energy

There is a woman in the moon -a woman in the sun, too and ruins of temples to old gods (I’m told) glass panes long dissolved from between lead canes corners of masonry rounded by rain shingles masking floor tiles carpeted in ivy, grout replaced by root and rot and if you were to build the moon an alter lightning will sunder, shatter, strike it down but the sun accepts offerings, bleaches colours to keep the hues for her own collection, peacocks them as a crown

There is a witch in a cottage in the woods in a clearing, on stilts and platforms and pontoons her garden grows, in both the light and shadow and she wears death like a lace fine-spun from her own marrow land flush with lilac, lavender and violets here it is, where the moon is moored above the glade where the sun passes often on parade and the witch knows both the sun and the moon by name strings up tapestries and dolls from between the branches so that they both can see of friends and loved ones between threads of red and ribbons of green

#Imodna #Imogen Temult #Laudna #Fearne Calloway #Critical Role #Emma writes #Sorry you got a poem.#Prompt fill

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acidicbarkbeast · 2 months

Text

prompt; discovery of secret relationship wordcount; 1.4k wordcount rule; >300 cw; depression, loss, grief, temporary character death

Ao3

The week’s past was remembered in fits and starts, a hazy chase of memories slipping through his shaking fingers. In his dreams, the molten earth would be bloated with the bodies of faces not forgotten, writhing of its own accord. Above him, the sky would kick and twist, snarling red. Lightning would be spat at his feet as he danced.

He would wake with a scream on cracked lips, tears like hot blood running down his sallow face. Hours would pass as he slept, dead in none of the ways that mattered, because what was Eddie Munson to do without the boy who shone like the sun? The golden boy who, now lost, cursed his world into one of eternal darkness?

Even as spring brought flowers and longer days, Eddie could only think of rain. The park was a cage he could never leave, not when down the dirt road was a grave known only to him, a dark spot, soot from an old fire, like a house long consumed by flames. He would choke on the smoke whenever he got close, and so he would go back to bed.

There was nothing left of him.

An irreversible tragedy. He’d been gone when the winged leeches had dropped, when Eddie and the girls returned to find Dustin, wailing for his missing brother. It seemed impossible, to have nothing left of a boy who gave everything, who was so full of light. To have hell steal him away, it left them broken.

After, when the girls had torn him from his heart’s hands, as he watched the flesh of the gate knit itself closed, Eddie would stop talking. There was no one left to listen, no one worth sharing with. He could feel himself decaying, eating its own as he wasted away. People would visit, asking for him, but the loud, smiling person from before was gone, Eddie had buried him the night he slept cold and alone for the first time in months.

If the first collapse was the loss of Steve Harrington, then the second was the festering corpse of his love, exposed to them all without freckled arms to hold it close like something precious, vulnerable without its leash of a lover’s ribs. The hungry maggots swarmed like the frothing of ocean waves, and much like the tide, the others bobbed and swayed toward his sinking island, seeing what was hidden within.

New grief was born of the cavern gouged from his soft parts. This wasn’t how they were meant to find out, another goodness stolen from him. Eddie mourned and turned away from everyone else, why should he not, when none other had loved Steve as he had? Robin would call for him the most after this revelation, carrying her own devastation, but Eddie didn’t have the space inside himself for them both to weep.

She stopped coming so often after he yelled at her.

He didn’t mean to push everyone away, Eddie thought, he never meant to lash out at those who cared. He couldn’t help it, caught in the storm without his anchor. He was airborne, moved only by turbulent winds and an anger planted deep in his chest.

The phone would end up in his hand sometimes, and he’d blink awake, silently placing it in its plastic cradle and returning to his room. He never called them back.

His uncle’s worry permeated the trailer like a perfume, but Eddie’s anguish doused the place like spilled gasoline, overpowering. He was avoided like one might eye a spider creeping in the corners of walls, afraid to get too close, and in his solitude, he began to wander. Although it started in his head, then moved quickly to the surviving books on his shelves, then to staring out of the kitchen’s small window, it eventually led him outside.

There was something in the air at dusk, slithering along the breeze like a crocodile might sweep across muddy waters. The cloud over his brain would drift, lifting from him for just a moment, a single moment of free and wistful hope. He would smell sandalwood, burnt pancakes, a lazy morning’s coffee, and he would fall into the dark of the woods.

Maybe, if Eddie had stopped to think about this rationally, he would have realized the danger, but then, would such a possibility have mattered? Would he have cared, when the memories of brown hair, pink lips, and starry eyes were right there, reminding him every waking second of his wretched failure?

The wisp of a voice called his name, his hands, his heart. Eddie followed, stumbling over leaf litter in a trance. As the full moon rose, and the trees were lost to a blur of black shadow, he went deeper, so far from civilization that he could no longer think of the people who would miss him, if he were to never leave these woods again.

As he got closer, and as the smell of char grew stronger, he could hear it clearly now, the chittering and muttering. It clicked and gargled, hissed under a heavy breath, and Eddie was wholly captivated.

Silver like the wax of the stars, he was watched from the looming silhouettes of reaching branches, pin-sharp eyes never leaving his shaking form. The night was freezing, but over the heat of a pounding in his ears, Eddie could barely feel it. He approached languidly, a blanket of calm enveloping him in the face of the stalking beast.

What now, when he’d found his forever, beckoning to him ever so sweetly? How could he possibly think of leaving, when that might break the illusion of the dream? The figure lurking before him was tall, completely still, melting with the shadows that surrounded it. Eddie couldn’t decipher the angular planes of its face, the comet streaks and pale scars that marked its lithe body.

He only saw the eyes, and the glint of teeth.

Daring, he stepped ever closer. He wanted his boy back, he wanted Steve.

And, meeting him in the white of moonlight, was the very man he was wishing for. Impossibly, the ghost of war was blinking and breathing, smiling something small and distinctly off, though Eddie would never notice, not as he folded helplessly around him. Familiar arms held him up, supporting his jelly-soft bones, and he cried. A crooked nose prodded at his throat, digging into the warm junction of his shoulder, and Eddie cried some more, harder than he ever had in his life, so hard he felt it in his empty stomach. It made him feel like throwing up. He was sick with love.

Chapped lips scraped across chilled skin, dragging the points of fangs over his quick-beating pulse. A shroud swept over them, and it was darker than night, darker than the color black. In the pitch, Eddie gasped as he was held tighter, just on the verge of pain.

"Steve?" He murmured through the pouring of tears, and the man suddenly withdrew from him, and he could see clearly again the conflict in the light of his boyfriend’s hazel eyes, all too human. He’d already forgotten what they’d been like before.

"Go." Steve's voice was deep and growling, but Eddie couldn’t find it in himself to be scared. He thought anyone else would be, in their right mind. He also knew that Steve would never hurt him. To his panic, the younger began stepping further away, retreating back into the thicket of the woods.

"What? No, no," He begged, reaching for the other, "I'm not leaving. I can't leave you again."

"I have to go." Eddie grabbed his wrist before he could, and he finally noticed how bony it all felt, how skinny Steve had become. And as he slunk out of the moon’s glow, the softness of the creature’s face drew sharp, muscles flexing in rippled waves as his new body seemed to adjust to the shade. Eddie could feel the tendons under his grip twitch and pull, “I shouldn’t have come back. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m supposed to be dead—”

“Please don’t say that,” Eddie sobbed, wrestling himself against Steve’s chest. The cavity didn’t move under him, unbreathing, “Don’t you fucking say that. You’re not dead, you’re right here.” Wetting Steve’s bare shoulder with his snot and tears, he promised, “You’re meant to be with me. Here. Not anywhere else.”

In one swift motion, Steve’s chest caved in, a single blow of air, a single gulp of it back in, and he gathered Eddie’s trembling form in his bite-ridden arms, “Okay.”

Under a cloudless sky, they would go home together. Steve would not once shiver in the cold, and once inside, he would squint under the low-lights of the trailer, needle-thin pupils glaring red, only for a moment. Eddie would never notice.

———

crossposting from ao3, also technically a repost but i've deleted the original and reformatted some things. there might be a part2 in the works but i've yet to figure a proper ending...

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steve as kas #came back wrong #barkbeastwriting

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chronic-ghost · 9 months

Text

Chapter 7 of Recovery Road

chapter rating: E (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 11046

chapter summary: this is how the spiral ends.

chapter warnings/tags: physical abuse, depictions of overdose, dark themes, angst – lots and lots of angst, crying, hospitals

a/n: the song accompanying this fic is Foreigners God by Hozier. I had to physically restrain myself from using the lyrics as title because everything about that song fits so perfectly with this chapter. (title from x)

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Wondering who I copy

Mustering some tender charm

She feels no control of her body

She feels no safety in my arms

I've no language left to say it

But all I do is quake to her

Breaking if I try convey it

The broken love I make to her

- Foreigner’s God, Hozier

The desert does storms differently.

Los Angeles, while hardly considered a desert, is occasionally touched by the fringes of a powerful storm. Bloated, purple clouds. Lightning so full of heat that is almost palpable as it sparks across the sky. Rain in fat globs that splatter and spray. Grumbles of thunder so deep and loud, they’re almost animalistic. Sometimes it rains like the world is in mourning, in deep-seated grief. It’s a comfort, though, in the same way sad movies are cathartic – an expression of pain in a way that is so often hard to conceptualize. There’s a relief in it too.

Outside the hotel window, thunder growls, curling low like a jungle cat, as lightning cracks, warding off the onset darkness for just a moment. It’s been raining for hours, water flooding potholes on the streets below, gushing from drain pipes. This early in the morning, the few cars out that swim through the gloom have their lights on bright, trying hopelessly to cut back the encroaching deluge. People are nothing more than wet shadows.

The weather is throwing a fucking fit.

Thunder batters against the hotel windows again, groaning so loud he almost misses it. Almost misses that soft, quiet, little “fuck” that escapes your mouth. But he’s too close, too deep inside you, nose to nose, his elbows in the mattress by your head – he catches every movement your face makes. Every twitch of your lips, every stretch of your jaw. Every sigh. Every wail.

The pitch black room, save for the occasional flash of lightning, smells like sex. And it should. You’ve been at it for hours.

The skin on his back smarts where your nails dig into him, but that doesn’t get him to speed up or change his pace. Steady, slow, making you feel every inch that he stuffs up inside you. He kisses the curve of your sweaty neck as his hips roll as deep as the thunder outside.

“Oh, oh my god – Dieter–,”

He nuzzles your neck, nose tickling the back of your ear, sweat rolling from the back of his neck, over his shoulder, and onto your chest.

“Take it, baby, just take it. Let me have all of you,” he murmurs into your ear. Gently, he reaches under the covers at his back and pulls your leg up to his hip, maintaining that slow, tortuous pace. You breathe in on a high whine, the sound knotting his gut with pleasure. You shove your head back into the pillow, your face flushed, eyes wet as if trying to escape from feelings he inspires in you. You bite your lip and moan.

He’s been dragging it out too long. The both of you are on a fine, miniscule edge, neither wanting it to end, neither wanting to be separated from the other, but the tension is too profound, too great to hold onto much longer. He knows his knees won’t work for hours after this. His hips are going to be totally shot. He doesn’t fucking care.

You breathe in sharply and your cunt contracts around him once and he thinks he blacks out for a second, hips stuttering to a halt. That almost-painful flare of heat he felt must be visible on his face because you gasp, somewhere between a hiccup and a sob. There are tears in your eyes, but you don’t ask for it. You take it just like he wants.

“Sorry, baby, sorry–,” you whisper, your hand sliding to his cheek, then his mouth, your thumb against his lips. But he shakes his head, eyes shut against the overwhelming sense of submission, sliding back into his agonizing pace, and he presses his lips to the pad of your finger, lets your hand ease up into his hair.

“Don’t – don’t a-apologize. You just feel so fucking g-good.”

He says this but wants to say other things. He speaks to distract himself from the fact that his denied orgasm has sharp shocks sparking up his spine.

He clumsily kisses your cheek.

“Thank you, b-baby, thank you for letting me do this. For letting me fill you up. For taking me, as I a-am,” he stutters, his tongue too thick for his mouth. He really should just shut up and come, but when he opens his eyes, the look you give him – your eyes black and round from the Ecstasy – it pulls on the tendons at the back of his chest. Like the strings of a guitar – strum his heart and he’ll sing.

He had begged you to let him fuck you slow, like he did in New Orleans. They only had a few hours before the comedown hit and he wanted to spend those hours savoring you. Licking his fingers of your sweetness, carving away old memories to make room for the ones of you naked and trembling, steaming images of you to the inside of his brain with a sweating iron. With a stripped-bare willpower, he holds himself back because he thinks the longer you’re beneath him, the more of you he can take.

But this last one, this one he can feel pulsate in the cup of his skull, it’s too big. It’s too much to suppress any longer. He grits his teeth, and tries not to languish in the warmth of your thighs.

“Are you close?”

You nod, a single tear breaking loose and running from the corner of your eye to the sheets below you. “Y-yeah. I’m so close, Dee.”

He adjusts on his already shaking knees, pulling back and giving enough space between your bodies so he can reach down to touch you at the apex of your legs, but you frantically shake your head, grabbing his wrist. You shake your head harder.

“No, n-not like that.” You put his hand back by your head, then pull him towards you with your legs, forcing him onto his elbows again. You dig your heel into his low back. “L-like this. Just a bit faster, honey.”

Feeling swells so much and so fast in his chest as he watches you encourage him, tell him exactly what you want, and what you want is him – he feels like he can’t inhale.

There are things he wants to say to you, but they’re clogged up somewhere between his gut and his tongue. He nods instead, planting one hand flat against the mattress, his head tucking into the curve of your neck. He goes faster, just a bit, like you asked. Under the patter of rain, the bed squeaks, metal screws and cheap wood rocking together. The wet clutch of your cunt is making him dizzy.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna– I’m gonna –,”

He angles his hips like he knows you need, his pelvis against your clit, and you cry out, hands latching around the back of his neck, knees up by his shoulders. You wail and it breaks him wide open. He comes, deep inside you, gooey, pearly cum mixing with your release, your cunt so tight, he feels it all ooze back down his cock. He shudders at the sensation, his cock twitching almost painfully. His brain feels like the last bit of film flapping in the gears of a projector – thin, empty, overused. White noise.

Beneath him, he feels you sobbing, gasping against his throat. He uses his shaking arms to pull back, just so he can look at you, so he can kiss back your tears. That was intense and he wants you to know he’s here for you.

“Baby, you’re crying.”

Your gentle thumbs catch wet salt on his cheeks and he blinks, suddenly aware of the cold streaks his tears left behind. He shakes as he wipes his own face.

“Fuck.” The word out of his mouth is watery, thick, and you smile up at him, your own grin wet and overjoyed. “I didn’t even realize . . .” You finally laugh and he can’t resist kissing you. Your tears mix with his as you press your cheek to his.

This is the thing inside of him being quiet, being eased, coaxed down and put to rest. The want for you, it’s indescribable. He has you but he doesn’t. It’s not enough. The only time this black mass of desire inside him releases its pull is when he’s coming inside you. When his split soul in your body reunites momentarily with his. When he makes you his. Over and over and over again.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Outside, lightning flashes and you glow beneath him for just a second. This body is familiar because it’s his.

You make me happy, he thinks, so happy.

It has nothing to do with the drugs coursing through his blood, that sits in his cum drying on your thighs, on the mattress.

It’s been two weeks since the last round of press junkets and tours, one week before the Oscars. Chloe, of course, did not come on the rest of the trip, electing to go home before returning to Europe to help her father. At this point, he couldn’t care less. It became easier and easier to stop answering her texts, and ignore her calls. He was already starting his new life with you. After a party in SoCal two nights ago, when he was up to his eyeballs in booze and your tits, he got half-hard thinking about making the phone call to his lawyer to draft up divorce papers. Ecstasy is so much better when you have someone to do it with you.

He wonders if she could see the lie in his eyes when he told her he’d give her an answer when she came back. If the divorce papers will come as a surprise.

In a ring of thunder, he backs out of you, dragging the covers with him, and you shiver, exposed, skin damp in his sweat and your own. Eyes hazy, lips bitten, marks of him everywhere on your skin, you look raw, fucked out. He kisses your collarbone before easing out of the bed to take off the condom.

You’re already half asleep when he comes back to bed.

Sleep is oozing around his bones, making his muscles limp and pliable. He’s seconds away from passing out. He knows you both need to eat, but he can’t lift his eyelids long enough to find his phone. He crawls in bed behind you, the exhaustion a weight more demanding than gravity. He came inside you and all his energy left him. You hum as you curl up next to him. He doesn’t even make it under the blanket.

You say something to him, something that his body reacts to, but his brain doesn’t fully comprehend. Noise, soft, gentle, comforting noise. He wants to hear it, whatever it is you’re saying, but he can feel parts of his mind shutting off, going dark.

Instead, he turns your limp body onto your side, his own molding around you, a warmth he never before experienced expanding from his chest to the rest of his body. His fingers curve around your chest and he thinks he can feel your heartbeat beneath his fingers. It might be his instead.

He noses your hair.

“Never leave me.”

Sleep is a thing he is, not a thing he does. He drifts, untethered in blackness, for hours, maybe days, maybe years. He dreams and remembers and his heartbeat settles somewhere behind his stomach.

When Dieter wakes up, it’s still raining, but the bedside light is on, casting a warm glow over the clothes on the floor, the crushed up powder on the table, the tablets of E by the couch. His come down is making him itchy – he’d love a joint – but he’s more unsettled by his sudden loneliness. Your side of the bed is empty, still warm, and he hears the shower running, sees light from under the door. You’re close by. He settles. Easily, slowly, mindfully of his fucked up hips, he rolls onto his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, his thumbnail carving out a line between his eyes.

He wants it to be months from now.

He wants the divorce papers signed. He wants you in his home, all your things there. He wants to trip over your shoes, move your purse from the countertops, smell your shampoo in his shower. He wants his time to become your time, wants to carve out hours of the day just to be with you and no one else. He can feel himself finding excuses to get away from his next gig, the next tour, from the next press circuit, canceling plans for parties and dinners, from everything that doesn’t have you in it. Nothing is as important as you are because nothing makes him feel like you do.

He needs you to come back to bed – he misses you. Thunder rumbles and he follows the noise out the window, his gaze briefly catching on the bedside table where you left your things. He spots the pill bottle and his skin hums. Flexeril. He wants to be under a little bit longer. He pops the cap off, rattles two pills into his hand, and throws it back, his throat pliant and obedient.

Sleep comes for him again. He hallucinates you, either dreaming or awake. A fix – love – whatever. They’re all the same to him.

It’s still raining when he lifts his head, sleep sloughing off him like relaxing overworked muscle, but it’s brighter out, the barrage of rain lessened. He has no idea how much time has passed and looking at the clock won’t help. He hasn’t kept track of time in days. Not since Chloe went away.

He’s suddenly aware of the warmth across his back. Your dainty fingers hang over his shoulder as if you tried to hug him and collapsed in place. Grinning, he rolls over, careful not to wake you, and sneaks his arm under your pillow, his other hand pulling you back against him. You smell like lavender and smoke and, wrapped up in his green t-shirt, a bit like him. He runs his nose the length of your neck to your ear – all mine – and lays down, tries to go back to sleep . . . only to realize what woke him up in the first place.

Buzzing.

Blue light from the bedside table.

Blinking through the headache the sound is giving him, Dieter leaves you and the perfect glow the outside light gives your skin. Sitting up, he blinks several more times at the name at the top of the screen.

Chloe.

And he’s missed four other calls from her, about five minutes apart each. She’s never done that before.

Swallowing and easing his feet to the ground at the edge of the bed, he answers her call.

“Hello?”

“Dieter.” Her voice is wet, water-logged by a salty brine. She’s been crying. He glances over his shoulder at you. Fuck, does she know where he’s been? You stir in your sleep, but don’t wake up. Over the phone, Chloe inhales, hiccuping, and then an explosion of words: “Dieter, something’s happened– I wanted to tell you in person but – and I know you said you’d think about it but–but, Dieter, it’s happened and –,”

His head this fogged from his hangover, from the last vestiges of E and the muscle relaxant still crawling around in his veins, he can’t parse out her words, every vowel and consonant flowing and butting up into the next. He can’t tell if she’s happy or upset.

“–and it’s so much sooner than either of us expected but–,”

“Chloe. Chloe,” he soothes, trying to be quiet and firm at the same time. You move again behind him and he looks at you just as you open your eyes. You smile at him and his heart skips. He turns around, trying to shield you from her. “Slow down. I can’t understand you. What’s going on?”

Silence.

Rain lashes the windows behind him. Thunder rocks the foundations of the building. Cars careen through the wet streets below. Your small hand presses against the ridges of his spine.

“Dieter, I’m pregnant.”

Rain lashes the windows behind him. Thunder rocks the foundations of the building. Cars careen through the wet streets below.

Your hand pulls away from him.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.” Her voice is tinny through the speaker. She sounds far away. Everything sounds far away. “You’re going to be a father. Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted?”

The phone falls from his hands to the floor with a clatter. It lands just right and the screen goes dark, the call ended.

His fingers feel spongy, rubbery, unreal. His heart beats up against his chest, but he hears it in his ears, like he’s been running for miles on end.

A baby.

His baby.

His lungs suck in air in short, sharp gasps and when he breathes in deep, he’s immediately hit by a wave of nausea. He fights to keep from hurling right onto the floor.

Go, he has to go – has to – his body is moving, shifting, but his knees give out. Weakly dropping him to the floor against the bed frame. The back of his skull tightens and retightens. With every pulse of his heart beat, he feels it in a different place on his body. His ears. His fingertips. His chest. God, there’s something in there, clawing to get out. It’s choking him.

“Dieter.”

His fingers pull at the invisible bonesaw cracking open his chest. “S-s-shut up. I can’t bre-eathe.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He can’t be a –

– can’t be his father –

Can’t can’t won’t won’t – not like this – not now –

He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t want it.

This kid – they’re gonna have his fucked up brain, his fear of living, that oppressive, slimy voice that keeps him pinned to his bed for days on end with all the curtains closed – that weighs him down to the bottom of the fucking ocean –

He’s ruined them before they ever even had a chance. Because they’ll be his, a part of him. An unlucky splinter embedded deep under a caustic burn. It’s not fair.

His fingers dig into his hair and wrench.

“Dieter.”

There’s a hand on his face. It’s soft and gentle and he hates it. It strokes his tears before he turns away and snarls, clawing his way up the mattress, cornering himself against the headboard.

Don’t touch me

Your eyes, gazing up at him from where you kneel on the floor, immediately flood with tears. They crack and overflow. They drip off your face.

“So it’s true, then. What she said. It is yours. Your . . .”

Can’t can’t can’t won’t won’t won’t can’t do it

His nails scratch his scalp, hard. There’s liquid under his cuticles.

“What happens now? What are we going to do?” You beg him, your tiny hands clutching at the sheets around the edge of the mattress. “W-w-we talked about – have you sent her the p-papers – I thought –,”

Maybe that weight in his chest will finally collapse and swallow him whole. Cramping until his very existence is crushed under the gravity of a pole star as it dies. He pulls his knees to his chest, his fingers knotting deeper and deeper into his hair.

“I’m going back.” The words scald his mouth the instant they leave it. They taste like bile, bile that rots inside of him. “I-I have to . . . I have to be there for . . . B-b-but n-not now – not like this – not when I-I’m still –,”

There on the table, there’s a chance he can forget about all of this, just take it away a second longer – but he has to go back to – to her – his ba–

“But you promised.” Your serrated voice snares him and tears his gaze back to you. “Dieter, don’t do this. Please. Let me help you. We can figure out something together. You can’t go back. You don’t love her. There’s nothing –,”

“She’s the mother of my child, Natalie. Of course I have to go back to her.”

He almost misses the gasp from your lips. Almost.

That noise. The inhale, the crunch of air against an unwilling lung. The audible sound of understanding. Of clarity. Of the ground finally setting.

You on one side. And him . . . him out of your orbit.

He sees the flash of your white teeth, the sharpness of bone, before you open your mouth.

“You’d be doing both of them a fucking favor if you never showed up at all.”

He thinks he goes blind in one eye for a moment from the rage that burns up through his rib cage. All that blackness that was inside of him since the day he was born comes rushing, pouring to the surface.

“What?” he snarls, lunging down and snatching you up by the meat of your arms, his fingers digging into your flesh. His teeth snap near your ear. “What do you want me to do, huh?”

“Stop, Dieter, you’re hurting me –,”

There’s a loud, angry man living inside of him, that’s lived inside every room he’s ever been in. The things he did subdued the anger, but not the inevitability. There’s a loud, angry man inside of him, and he doesn’t have the courage to pretend anymore that the voices in his head don’t all sound the same.

He crushes you against chest, your nails clawing at his skin, as he hauls you across the room. Dieter shoves you onto the couch, pulsating with fury. You’re crying again as your fingers curl around the ashtray on the table. Your arm winds back and he jerks away the second before you fling it at him with a scream. The ashtray shatters the lamp, electrical sparks flying, clay shattering, and then —

“I hate you!”

“And I hate myself around you!” He snarls.

He watches the words collide with your very being, your eyes fluttering as though he had slapped you.

“We bring out the fucking worst in each other,” he goes on, like toxic drool spilling out of his mouth. “And you fucking know it.” He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to. Your mouth drops, lips trembling, skin going white, as though you drank poison from the cup of his hands. “You want me to abandon this kid for the mistake of just being born? You want it to turn out like you?”

Tears again and this time he cannot miss the gasp. The hiccup where air goes down wrong.

It’s all wrong.

“Fuck you, Dieter, GET OUT!”

“This is my hotel room–,”

“Get the fuck out or I’ll call the fucking cops!” You shriek.

Your shoulder knocks into his chest as you shove past him, snatching up his clothes and pitching them into his face. The bed behind you looks like a war zone, covered in shards of glass and clay and wires. A great machine disemboweled.

“Goddamn it –,”

His belt buckle grazes his cheek. You’re trying to draw blood. Your hair wild and mussed from sex and his abuse, cheeks enflamed, you breathe as though you gasp around a collapsed lung.

This was always how it was going to end. He’s come to the end of the spiral.

He thinks you and hurricanes share the same sort of powerful, thunderous beauty. The very sight of you glaring at him with such disgust and violence on your face makes his eyes grow hot.

“You are a fucking coward, Dieter Bravo.” You sniff, wiping something from your chin with the back of your hand. “You’re a coward and a fucking liar . . .” You swallow, vitriol wet in your mouth, in the curve of your shoulders, in the unsteady shake of your hands, “and you’re gonna be a fucking shit dad. You have no idea how to love anyone but yourself.”

You’ve done it. Stripped him down to his bare essentials and this is what you’ve found: a copy of a loud, angry man. A copy, blurred and blackened and smudged beyond recognition. And despite his best efforts, the copies would go on until there was nothing left but hot darkness.

Turning away, you take the sweating champagne bottle from the bucket and, stumbling towards the bathroom, you fall forward and lock the door behind you.

That blank, empty door will haunt his dreams for years to come — he just doesn’t know it yet.

He’s still shaking when he picks up his phone.

“Are you in Los Angeles? No. No – I’m not . . . remember the old laundromat off 1st? You have to meet me there. Now. Hurry . . . please . . . please.”

In the blue darkness curling in the back of the room, metallic drums in their square boxes churn, their heating coils humming as excess heat warms the tile, the cracking plaster on the walls. Not a soul insight, but the machines go on, diligent and indifferent. There are the eternal mountains, the infinite sea, and there are these machines, washing out dirt from clothes and towels and bedsheets, and warming the cold and wet and the damp, forever and ever and ever.

He lets out a shaky exhale. Tapping the gray ash into the empty soda cup between his legs, he takes another sip from the cigarette, his left knee bouncing fixed and tight, as he waits in the half-darkness, his back pressed up against the cool window. In front of him, the washing machines grumble, the only light giving them individual edges coming from the glow in the street behind them. He didn’t even bother turning on the overhead fluorescents when he came in.

The cigarette butt between his fingers joins the other three at the bottom of the cup before he picks up the packet and shakes out another one. The metal zipper of his hoodie feels cold against his bare stomach. His knee won’t stop shaking.

To his left, the double glass doors suddenly open, the cool brush of rain overwhelming the heat of the machines for a moment, and a frantic shadow spills through, its head swiveling in a panicked search.

“Dieter?”

Disbelief. Horror. His chest swells so sharply he thinks he might split open.

Heels clacking on the linoleum, she comes into the light of the window. Her mouth smeared bright red, blonde hair down and smoothed around her ears, she wears a black raincoat over silk red pants and black heels. She looks beautiful.

Except for the way her mouth twists in terrible anguish.

“Oh, shit.” Heidi says, softly. “Dieter, what happened?”

He works his jaw, his eyes hot and tight, he doesn’t even look up at her when he says, “you look nice. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

Heidi’s mouth drops open as further bewilderment sinks in. She slowly lowers herself into the seat next to him. The plastic squeaks from the force.

“Honey, do you know what day it is?”

He shrugs, shakes his head.

“Everyone’s been trying to find you for days. The studio’s furious but . . .” she inhales and he knows the sound. It’s the sound doctors make when they tell parents their child has a terminal illness, when parents tell their children they had to put down the family dog, when his father told him he wasn’t welcome in the house any more. “I was on my way to the Oscars. It’s Oscars night, Dieter, and Recovery Road was nominated for best picture.”

The smoke in his mouth sucks out every droplet of moisture. He sees the room spin for a second. “Congratulations. I mean that. You deserve it.”

She inhales again, but it comes through perforated and broken. “Honey, you were nominated. Best Actor. That’s why we were trying to find you.”

He sniffs and drops the still burning cigarette into the cup, his palms rubbing frantically on his thighs, over his jeans, the smoke yanking his guts up into his mouth. He feels the acid burn his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone. I’m sorry you didn’t know where to find me. But . . . fuck, Heidi,” his voice cracks, “it’s gotten so out of control and I don’t know if I can fix it . . . or if I should.”

It’s her soft hand on his back that does it. Like she touched a pressure point that released the festering knot he had become and every sensation within him is pushed to an eleven, everything pushed to the brink, to the very line of sanity, and he breaks.

He leans forward and cries.

The single hand becomes two, then an entire body of warmth as she pulls him into her chest, not worried if he smudges her makeup or wrinkles her blouse. It streams from him, a dam unsealed and imploding under its own weight, and he cries, the wails high and loud and he could scream like this. He sinks to his knees and she goes with him until they’re on the floor, the seat of the chair digging into her back and his arms wrapped around her waist.

“I fucked up, Heidi. I fucked up so bad.” His fingers twist into her coat. “I’m so sorry, s-so, so so-rry . . .”

I fucked up

I am fucked up

I fucked up

I’m so tired of fucking up

She lets him cry out this thing that’s been choking him, grips him tight, holds him down, in the murky darkness of that laundromat, the machines churning and churning and churning in the quiet. He cries longer than he has in recent memory. Maybe in his whole life. Nothing has ever hurt like this because this is the culmination of every other hurt, every other wound. A grief compounded he never had time to mourn.

He cries until it’s all out, until there’s static in his head and his eyes ache and his limbs are heavy. Until, despite the pain, his mouth wet and gummy, he can breathe around the weight.

She waits for the flood to slow, for his breathing to ease, his skin still fire hot. She rubs the back of his neck and he shudders against her chest.

“Dieter.” His own name sounds alien to him. “Honey. Talk to me.”

She hasn’t called him that in half a decade. She uses her own sleeve to dry his cheeks and he turns away, mortified he’d ruin her pretty shirt. Heidi eases him back, resting against the chair. Her hand still holding the back of his neck, he finally looks her in the eyes. He can feel his breastbone bend under the weight of his failure.

But he tells her.

Mouth sticky and eyes dripping, he tells her everything – from the moment he knew you were taking drugs on set, to you showing up dripping and half-naked at his door, to the house in Albuquerque, the unsteady acceptance and balance you somehow agreed to – despite how you both felt, what you both wanted to explore – how heartbroken he was when you slept with someone else, how heartbroken he was when it became clear that Chloe couldn’t wouldn’t understand him because the love she felt for him was never enough to fill in the ache inside of him.

The few moments of unparalleled joy he experienced with you in that cottage in the crescent city.

Joy, fueled and fed and stimulated by drugs.

That was the hardest to admit. That hurt the most.

His hands shook, either from the comedown or the nerves or both. Not a single detail was omitted, a memory misplaced. If he didn’t discuss certain blocks of time, then they were never in his memory to begin with. He wanted it purged from his system, like flushing an infection with saline water. If he didn’t bare his soul now, he never would, would never have another chance to be this honest with her or himself about his many vices, his many addictions. How he thought he loved you so much his heart might burst. How he can’t tell if that love comes from inside him or the strings he uses to stitch himself back together.

What he had done to you in that hotel room. How he treated someone he loves with his whole heart.

“And Chloe, she’s – fuck–,” he wipes at his eyes with his sleeve against his palm, “she called me this morning and told me she’s pregnant.”

Heidi audibly swallows. Swallows down her disgust and horror. She knows what this means to him. Her silence reminds him exactly how fucked he is, how irrevocably changed his life is, and ice-cold, black-dread terror rockets up his spine, squeezing his heart. His stomach claws at itself, empty of anything to destroy. He wants to peel the skin off his fingers.

She wraps her hand around his forearm, pulling his hand into her lap.

“Was that something . . . had you talked about . . .” she stops and starts, plucking at the threads of what she is trying to ask. “Were you trying?”

He shakes his head, eyes itchy from the tears. He paws at his face with his sleeve, huffing. When he speaks, he sounds like he has a cold. “Last time I saw her was at the start of the press tour. She came back, asking if we could fix things, and at that point, Natalie and I had already . . .” he wraps his arms over his chest, willing it all back inside of him. “Chloe asked if I wanted to have a baby with her and that was it. I think any desire to remain her husband just evaporated that day, whether I knew it at the time or not.”

“Wait, I thought you said you were going back? Back to Chloe? If that’s not what you want, then why . . .”

He picks up a piece of that famous Dieter indignance and holds it in his fist.

“I’m not divorcing the woman while she’s pregnant with my child. Besides, if she thinks I can help, or if she needs me . . .” he inhales, unsteady and weak, “if she thinks me being around the kid will make things better and not worse, then . . .” The laundromat goes blurry, the truth of it cracking, splitting, chunks carving up his throat. He exhales and the tears roll down his cheeks. “Then I’m going to do it. I-I-I just don’t want the baby . . . to-to e-end up . . . like . . . me.”

“Oh, Dieter.”

Heidi slides around his back, her head against his shoulder, arms tugging his inward, as if she could take away his sadness, his pain, his shame. They both tremble as sobs wrack his body.

“You wouldn’t make things worse,” she murmurs to his shoulder blades, to the thin sweatshirt damp with sweat. “You wouldn’t, Dee, I promise.”

“But it’s there, it’s in me, Heidi. This capacity to hurt everyone I love.”

“Honey, they wouldn’t love you if you couldn’t hurt them.”

“A baby isn’t going to love me,” he says, softly, to her knuckles around his stomach. “It needs care, support, someone who’s around all the time. And I don’t even know what fucking day it is.”

“But you won’t always be like this.” Hedi squeezes him gently. “I saw the healthy Dieter, the focused one. The one who loves the movies, who loves being an actor. You can be that person.”

“Yeah and all the while wanting to fuck someone who wasn’t my wife.” He tugs on his hair and feels a few strands come loose. Gray, by the light behind him. Great.

“You’re never going to be perfect, Dieter. No one is. Therapy and rehab is not meant to make you perfect, it’s meant to make you healthy.”

She’s not seeing it — why can’t she understand that he’s permanently fucked?

He slides out of her arms, irritated, and curls up by the window, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“I was in rehab for two years and in an instant it crumbled. Everything they tried to teach me.” He rubs his palm in the divet of his nose between his eyes. “It doesn’t work. Not on me.”

“Then why’d you do it, Dieter?” Heidi asks as she stands, her hands on her hip. “Why do you keep going back if you think it’s pointless?”

“Because I want it to work!” He snaps up at her. “I don’t want to be like this forever. I went for Chloe, for you, for Mark, for everyone who–,”

“But not yourself.” She cuts him off and he feels the impact in his chest. With a sigh, she sits down next to him and drops her head against the wall. Heidi is quiet, observing the hunched washing machines, the spinning of the dryers, and a faint smile breaks across her face. “Do you remember that time we met that really cute guy here, what, fifteen years ago? Dark hair, blue eyes, hands the size of plates.” He nods. “And he was really into cycling, remember? So you and I would go down to that tiny gym twenty minutes from our apartment and join that fucking spin class at 6AM because you were determined to get his number . . . and then once you had it, after months of that goddamn class, you–,”

“I never called him.”

“You never called him, that’s right.” Heidi says as she laughs, Dieter chuckling with her. She watches as his fingers curl into his own hair.

“So, what, you’re saying I have problems with follow through?”

“I’m saying you are committed to whatever you want to do, if you want to do it.” She wraps her hand around his bicep and leans into his shoulder. They’re quiet, contemplating. “I remember thinking I’d die young, when I was in high school. And because of that, I was as reckless as I wanted to be. But then I met Lucy and as clichéd it is to say this, everything changed. Being with her, I was the most clear-headed I’d ever been in my life and I knew exactly what I wanted.” She glances up at him as the rain picks up again. Flat droplets splatter against the window near his head. “How do you want your life to make you feel? Do you know what you want from life, Dieter?”

Fame. Acclaim. Adoration. These things go off in his head as if they were a Pavlovian response to this kind of question, but then they fade, grow weak without sentiment.

Honestly?

At his core, his dark, deep secret is this: he wants to feel the way the drugs make him feel. Like he’s the happiest he’s ever been, or at peace with the universe, or the star of every room.

Like he’s loved. The drugs make him feel like he is loved and whole and that’s what he wants.

And there’s only one person on earth he’s ever felt that way with.

“Do you love her, Dieter?” The question is delayed, muffled against his shoulder.

He sighs. “Between you and me and these four fucking walls, no, I don’t. Maybe I did once, but what I feel for Chloe isn’t going to change or improve. I feel something for her, but it’s not the right kind of something to–,”

“I mean, Natalie, Dieter. Natalie.” Heidi lifts her head, her gaze serious, rimmed with worry. “Do you love Natalie?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t question it, doesn’t add addendums to it, conditions around whether or not he loves her only when he’s high, or not high. There is something there, something deep. Something that scared him at first, but he’s seen you now. He knows that if he reached out his hand, you’d take it. Because whatever is in your soul, it recognizes itself in his. A split soul, into two bodies.

Racing to the edge of calamity.

But then Heidi sits up, takes him by the shoulders and asks a question he’d never once considered, about anyone.

“Do you see a future with her?”

“I . . .”

No.

He tries to swallow around the knot in his throat.

No, because one of you is going to burn out too fast. One of you isn’t going to survive, not the way it’s going. Did Heidi mean marriage, kids, a fucking lawn with a picket fence? He’s not made for that kind of future either but that is okay because he was never going to make it there anyway.

I always thought I’d die young.

Something fundamentally shifts in his brain, as though an old reality suddenly winked from existence.

He thinks about that blank door you locked yourself behind. He thinks of your tears and how he broke you. He loves you, he knows it, but now he sees outside himself. He thinks of the carousel and his mother and the promises she made to him.

“I want her in my life,” he tells Chloe with certainty. “I can’t picture my life without her, even if I don’t know what that’s going to look like. Whatever we are, whatever happens with the baby or Chloe, I know now I can’t live without her. Without Natalie.”

The dusting of worry fades from her face and a crease appears between her eyes. The one that comes out when a scene won’t quite come together, or there’s a line of dialogue that needs reworking. When something is just a bit outside her understanding and she hasn’t quite settled on an answer.

“I’ve never seen you make that face before.”

“What face?”

“I . . . I don’t know. You just look different, when you talk about her.”

“I love her. I mean it.”

She turns away, some personal revelation coming too late. Her eyes are like flints, flecks of hard green stone, when she looks back at him.

“Enough to leave her?” Heidi implores of him. “Because what you’re asking, it’s cruel, to do that to someone. You get that, right?”

He bites the skin under his lip. “Yeah. I see that now. Or maybe I always have and I just didn’t want to admit it.” He’s cried enough for a lifetime, but his throat pinches and the backs of his eyes grow hot. “I just can’t stand the thought of us never speaking again. If something ever happened to her . . .”

“If you really want to stay with Chloe and raise this baby, then you might have to make that choice. Or she might make it for you, to keep you out of her life. Either way, you have to accept that.” He nods, a few drops sprinkling off his eyelashes. Heidi squeezes his shoulder and goes on, “but for right now, we’re going to start with rehab. Get you clean. You’re going to have to tell Chloe about the drugs, but as for the affair . . .”

“Do you think I should?”

Heidi’s lively green eyes dull, the stem of a flower as it wilts. “Honestly, Dieter, I have no idea.”

Before he can read what else may be written on her face, she stands, pulling him up with her. She eyes him with a teasing contempt as he zips up his hoodie.

“You really do look like fucking shit.”

“Yeah, thanks, I feel it.”

She takes his hand and holds it to her chest. “One step at a time, Dieter. Step one, we’re going to get you some food so you sober up. Then we go get your stuff.”

His stomach twists at the thought of seeing you when he has no idea what to say — apologies aren’t enough. “But–,”

“One thing at a time.” She takes out her umbrella as they stand at the precipice between the laundromat and the wet street. Her look is one of hope, a small thing, of uncertainty and promise. “One thing at a time.”

The rising of the hotel elevator syncs with the steady climb of his anxiety. His head hurts, even in the low lighting, and there’s some small part of him that’s looking forward to that white bed in any empty room. Folded up into the corner of the opulent elevator, eyes dark-rimmed, hair long and unkempt, looking every bit the addict he is, he swallows as the numbers in gold across the top of the double doors ding with every floor. His eyes fall to the watch at Heidi’s wrist. She stands in the middle of the elevator, her head held high, a slight frown on the crease of her forehead. He wonders what she’s thinking about but he isn’t sure he wants to know with certainty. It’s six thirty. They’ll all be seated now.

“Thank you.” He murmurs to her wrist.

Heidi glances at him, taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes, his waxy skin. He had been so hurt by her apparent disinterest after she left the film’s production that when he called, part of him was sure that she wasn’t even going to answer. One by one his support network had been cut away, trimmed down until he was dangling by a thread. And yet, she came, without hesitation, on possibly the most important night of her life. If there is anything to be ashamed about, he figures, it’s that he ever doubted her. He should have called sooner.

“Thank you, Heidi, for everything.”

Her expression softens and she breathes slowly. She actually graces him with a smile. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

We.

When he thought he was all alone.

His eyes sting as the elevator stops on the twenty-second floor, dinging cheerily when the doors open to the top, most secluded floor. It’s quiet, all five black doors in the hallway shut and locked. Heidi steps out with purpose and he drags himself after her, hands digging into his wet pockets to try and find his key, if he even managed to bring it.

And then he freezes.

Something’s not right. A sense. A chill in the air. An uneasy twinge in the stomach just before freefall.

Heidi stops, looks over her shoulder. “Dieter, what’s–,”

Behind the door to his room comes a loud thump. A scrambling. And then –

“Oliver?”

Those ice blue eyes snap up as the drug dealer stumbles through the doorway. Eyes bloodshot, skin gray, his immaculate suit is gone, replaced by black jeans and a loose shirt. His hands are trembling.

“Ah, fuck, Dieter.”

The blackness of his irises take up the entirety of his pupils. He’s high, out of his mind . . . and he’s terrified. Trembling like a child, his gaze bounds back and forth between Dieter and Heidi.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Oliver?”

“I-I-I . . . uh . . . look, she called me, and I, uh –,”

“Natalie called you?” Heidi’s eyebrows arch up her forehead. She frowns at Dieter. “What for?”

At that, Oliver’s cheeks flush red. “Look, it can’t be traced back to me. I’ve got a green card and I can’t lose that. I need it – I have to –,”

“What can’t be traced back to you?” Dieter steps forward, his pulse quickening.

Oliver actually whines when he looks back to his old friend.

“Look, I guess I didn’t realize how much she was t-taking. I was already high when I got here and just sort of let her h–have her pick –,”

Dieter’s stomach clenches.

Heidi frowns, still not getting it. “What are you talking about? Have her pick of what?”

“Oliver.” Those pale eyes jump back to Dieter, his entire body shaking. “Where’s Natalie?”

“I c-can’t be here, right now, ok-kay? They’re going to deport me if they f-find out that I–,”

Dieter thinks he hears the shower running.

The air in the hallway thins, a ringing settling between his ears.

The rest comes to him in flashes.

Tattered pieces flung into the air, raining down images. He snatches at them but they crumble in his grip.

Shoving Oliver out of the way.

Pills, liquor bottles, powders on the table. Ones he knows he didn’t leave there.

The white bathroom door.

This is the moment he realizes that blank door will haunt his nightmares for years to come. What he could have found on the other side. What he nearly does.

Your pale hand dangles over the side of the tub. That’s the first thing he sees. It brings him to his knees on the tiled floor.

Shower water pelts your gray face, black lines of makeup streaking your white cheeks. Oliver had dumped you in there still clothed in black underwear and his green shirt, possibly in hopes that the water would rouse you. But you don’t react to the water, or the sounds he’s making. You don’t react to him sliding down over the lip of the tub to you, his hand cupping your face.

You look small, broken and folded like a doll.

He had discarded you so easily.

But there, beneath the flood of water across your skin, he sees that you’re –

“Breathing,” he murmurs to himself, to you. “She’s breathing –,”

The ice cold water drenches his back as he pulls you out of the tub and into his lap. It’s not graceful, your knees and elbows knocking against the porcelain, but still you don’t move. You still don’t wake up.

He drags you into his lap like a lion drags its prey, selfishly, hungrily, snarling.

In his ears, the rushing of blood muffles all sound, everything happening in the room outside. He’s vaguely aware of movement, of running, of someone yelling.

But you still haven’t opened your eyes. He touches your face, fingers dragging back the damp hair across your forehead, and he thinks he feels your pulse slow.

No no no no no no no stop no not like this stop please i’m so sorry please don’t I’m begging you please please please please you can’t go you can’t leave me i’m so sorry please don’t leave me i’m so sorry please wake up wake up i’m begging you

please please please please

He doesn’t know what he keeps to himself or what he whispers out loud to you, arms wrapped around your back, limp head pressed tightly into his throat.

He holds you until the ambulance comes, as if his constant vigil will keep you from slipping away.

It was an accident, Oliver assured the police.

It was just a little fun that got out of hand. His stuff was more potent because it was made in a lab, not off the street. He didn’t remember to tell her and she didn’t know, Oliver said over and over and over again.

But that information came through Heidi’s contact at the police station, a contact that had been in the interview room when Oliver confessed everything in hopes of easing his sentence. But this was third hand gossip. A game of telephone that made Dieter nauseous to think about.

Maybe it didn’t matter why, only that it did. Only that you were hurt, that you were unconscious. That what he had done to you made you do this to yourself.

He watched the double doors from the hospital waiting room constantly.

Curled up in the back corner, his eyes remained glued to the swinging, open-and-shut, entrance to the admission rooms. Where they took you after the ambulance arrived. They didn’t let him go back with you. He was prepared to lie and push and use every ounce of his considerable influence to let him see you, but in the end, Heidi brought him down. Told him to let them do their jobs and all he could do was wait.

He paced the length of the waiting room, in the beginning. Shoulder curled, hands clenched across his body, nails bitten to the quick, he never took his eyes off that doorway.

The nurse at the station initially glowered at his frantic energy, but then something lightened her gaze. She recognized him from somewhere but couldn’t place it. Heidi tried to get him to sit, drink water, but he refused.

Her police contact called her, told her Oliver had been arrested and was selling out his suppliers left and right. For his sake, Dieter hoped they’d deny bail and keep him in jail, away from the public. Away from anyone who might come after him.

Heidi sits down next to him, now that he has settled, with a sigh, her second cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup from the machine smelling like burnt tar. She blows on it in a way that can only be described as calculating.

His sweatshirt dried cold against his skin. Why are hospitals always so fucking freezing?

“Dieter,” she begins but he grinds his teeth so hard, it’s audible.

“If you tell me to calm down, Heidi, I swear –,”

“No.” The word is heavy, cutting. It shuts him up immediately, even draws his dry gaze away from the doors. He looks at her, one of his oldest and only friends, with the coffee in her lap, thin pale fingers delicately holding the sides. Her eyes are unreadable as she watches him. “I want you to think about what you are going to say to her when she wakes up. And she will – that girl is tougher than you give her credit for,” she adds sternly. “But when she wakes up, that will be your one and only chance to do the right thing. The right thing for her. Not you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He chews on his tongue, which has suddenly grown three sizes and gone dry. The finality in her voice, it sinks into him. An ax falling into wood but isn’t removed. Left there, splitting the wood apart and letting the wet molasses ooze out of the crack.

It’s not fair, his heart aches. It’s not fair.

But it is right.

Dieter wipes his eyes as a doctor walks out of the double doors, the first in what feels like hours, and he approaches them in the corner.

He wants to ask, wants to open his mouth, but words have left him. What if it's bad news? What if –

Heidi stands to meet the doctor with an outstretched hand, Dieter shakily rising to his feet behind her. The doctor, a serious man with no facial hair and brown eyes, takes Heidi’s hand and returns the greeting. Dieter makes a fist in his pocket to keep his hand from trembling.

“You’re the family, then?”

Dieter wants to shake his head, no, this isn’t how families are supposed to be, but Heidi nods before he can confess his heart to an indifferent cause.

“We are. How is she? Is she–,” Heidi’s voice cracks despite her stern tone and Dieter’s skin at the back of his head pulsates.

“She’s alive,” the doctor says quickly. He wonders if that’s the information they have to give immediately. Some reassurance that all this time spent waiting wasn’t for nothing. That maybe something out there is kind and listened to his frantic begging. “But she will need to remain in our care for a few days. She’s going to be alright, but she very, very nearly wasn’t.”

The doctor goes on, describing what they had to do to save Natalie’s life. What poisons they found inside of her. What they took from her to piece her back together.

Wasn’t. There’s an alternative in that.

In a parallel universe, you died. You were gone.

But in this one, you lived. You were still here. There was still time.

“Can I see her?” He blurts out, cutting the doctor off from his long explanation. Those brown eyes harden like bird shells when they fall on him.

“She’s unconscious, heavily sedated, but stable. The nurse will show you back, but she might not be able to hear you.”

He nods. You might not hear him now, but you would, one day. You would know how sorry he is if it was the last thing he did.

The doctor waves at a nurse and Heidi turns and takes him into a hug.

“Tell her we’re all rooting for her,” she whispers in his ear. “Tell her I’ll be here waiting for her when she gets up.”

He pulls back, something about her phrasing squeezing his heart, he doesn’t like that he doesn’t like that at all —

But the nurse is opening the double doors for him, expectant.

She’s smiling but her eyes are empty as he lets go and steps back towards the long white hallway.

Your one and only chance to do the right thing.

He follows the nurse down room after room. He can’t bear to look into the rooms through the small windows, to flood his imagination with images of your possible fate, so he stares resolutely at the back of the nurse’s head.

She stops outside of room twenty two and opens the door for him.

“You’ve got ten minutes. You can come back in the morning during visiting hours.”

He nods, her indifferent gaze almost a relief. Pity, mourning, he couldn’t stand to see it. One more crack and he’d break. Shatter and spill like marbles across the floor.

He wants to thank the nurse, but the words get stuck and she walks off, handing him the responsibility of the door as she returns to the waiting room.

His hand shakes against the frame.

You were right. You always have been. He’s such a fucking coward.

Shaking, knees wobbling, Dieter falters as he goes into your room. It smells sweet, the air pungent and cloying. As if dead flowers had been sprinkled over filth.

There’s one light behind you, the curtains drawn shut, shadows heavy.

Where you had been a limp, lifeless doll in the bathroom tub, stretched thin in the small bed now you more resembled a weak, helpless child. Small, pale, ragged to the bone. As if someone had stripped back years of your life, revealing a vulnerability lost long into adulthood. A brush with death and you become humbled, glancing towards the light erodes your false pretenses until you lay bare at the end of time and at the beginning.

You look so, so sick.

His knees give out when he spots the skin beneath the arms of your hospital gown. The plastic seat beneath him all but holding him up right, he lifts the sleeve closest to him.

The skin is purple, green, in the shape of fingers. His fingers. He had done this to you. Of all the things he thought he was, thought he had become, this sort of monster seemed unfathomable. But he was wrong. He had become a special kind of monster.

His thumb trembles as he rubs the bruise, so sickened with himself his stomach churns.

As though pinched, you suddenly gasp awake, the machines monitoring you spiking and chirping. Twisting in the bed, eyes blurry, it’s clear you don’t know where you are, what has happened. You struggle until he puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Baby – baby, calm down. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital.”

Your hair still hasn’t dried completely and it curls around your shoulders like tentacles. Easing back down, you look up at him, eyes fluttering as you try and focus your gaze. You blink and recognition suddenly sparks across your face.

“Dieter?” You cry out and suddenly your cheeks are flushed with tears. Your pale skin sparks pink as you sob wretchedly. “Dieter – I-I t-thought you l-left me–,”

A solid block of stone where his heart used to be, he pulls you into his lap, arms clutched tightly around you. You’re shaking and shaking and shaking as you mutter,

“Thought you were g-gone. Thought you left m-me fore-eve-r-r. L-left m-me.”

Dieter swallows, his chin on your head, aware of his own tears but doing nothing to wipe them away.

He lets you cry. Holds you tight and strong in his arms and, as he always has been, unable to offer any real comfort. Real support. He offered nothing real, nothing tangible, no promises kept, because he had nothing to give. He sees that now.

You slow in your cries, your wailing, but you’re muttering something else now. He can’t hear it with your face against his heart, so he eases you away, hand soothing your neck, thumb by your ear. Your eyes are closed and you immediately try to nestle into him again, like a kitten searching for warmth.

“I did it . . . it’s my fault . . . I did it . . .” You claw at his forearms.

“Did what, baby?” He tilts your head up, up to him, to the light. Your face is puffy and pink and your lips are covered in tears. They spill again, your skin slippery, as you answer:

“I ruined your life, Dieter.”

In his shock and horror, his grip loosens and that’s all you need to launch yourself forward into him again. Your arms hold him by the waist so tightly it’s like you fear he’s going to fade away, crying again, crying anew. His eyes flutter shut, against the building wave of nausea in his gut, against the soothing hum of your skin against his – this is where we’re supposed to be – against the acceptance of what’s to come.

He lets you cry, perhaps longer than he should but he’s determined to sear the memory of your skin, your shoulders, your hips, your head into every crevice inside of him, stuff himself full of you when he has nothing else to sustain him on. He’s still greedy, selfish, corruptible, when it comes to you.

And that’s the whole fucking point.

“Natalie–,” he tries and it comes out soft. “Natalie, I have to tell you something.”

You pull away from him, eyes puffy and red, your beautiful mouth twisted and gnarled in grief. But there’s something wrong with your eyes, your gaze blurry.

His stomach knots with the realization that you might not remember any of this, the sedatives too strong. Fighting against his trembling chin, he takes you by the jaw, gently, carefully, how you’re meant to be handled and he has done it wrong so many times before.

“Natalie, I’m going to go away for a while,” he says. Your eyes fill with tears, but they don’t spill over. Your mouth twists petulantly.

“For how long?”

“For a while. You’re sick and you have to get better.”

You turn your head, considering his words. “When I get better, can I come see you?”

His jaw twists, dropping your gaze, chin trembling and teeth clattering. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t think that’s a good idea.’”

“Why?” You’re crying again and, finally, so does he.

“We’re not good for each other. And I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“Do what, Dieter?” You aren’t sobbing like before, but you pale. Like a ghost. Like he’s killing you.

Inhaling through a wet mouth, he kisses you on the forehead, tears flushing out of the corner of his eyes. Your little fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt.

“Dieter, I love you.” You mutter to his collarbone and that makes him let go. Releases you.

Sets you free.

You lived and he still had to say goodbye.

He wants to tell you in kind, try and capture this roaring, expansive feeling in his chest and give it to you. Offer himself on the funeral pyre if it keeps you warm.

You suddenly can’t quite focus on him, the rock of your shoulders is unsteady. Either the medicine is kicking in or the brief bout of consciousness is fading.

“Go to sleep, baby.”

You nod, eyelids heavy, and he gently eases you back, into the pillows, your weight growing as sleep overwhelms you. By the time, he has you against the white sheets, you’re already gone. He recedes from you, grateful and furious and happy and screaming all at once. He gives you one final kiss on the curve of your eyebrow, lingering long after he should, before tucking your hair back and moving away.

His last image of you is deathly pale and alone.

Nurses and staff stride through the hallways, around gurneys and into supply closets. Disembodied voices call out doctors through the intercoms and machines make noise. No one stops him as he walks down the long hallway and through the exit.

The metal handle clenches loudly as he pushes through, out into the dawning morning. It’s purple and quiet and not a soul in the entire city moves.

The rain has finally stopped.

“You’re still watching that?” Dan probes her, his patrol of the hospital slow given how late it is. “It’s just some dumb award show.”

April makes a face at him, glancing down briefly to finish her notes before her shift is over. Her feet ache and she’s looking forward to the pasta in her fridge.

“I worked a double today. If I want to indulge in a dumb show, I can.” She caps her pen and takes off her nurse’s badge. “Besides, it’s not a dumb awards show, it’s the dumb awards show. The Oscars are kind of important, idiot.”

Dan smirks, their banter the thing he looks forward to the most in his days as a security guard.

Neither one of them notice the single man walking past the nurses station towards the exit.

“Did you even watch any of these –,”

“Shush, they’re announcing Best Picture.”

A woman on the stage in a golden floor-length gown, her smile as bright as the lights around her, opens the envelope in her hands.

“And the Oscar goes to . . .”

She lifts the card, extending the suspension in her inhale.

“Recovery Road!”

The crowd on the TV bursts into applause and April squeals, clapping excitedly.

“Oh, please, like you even saw that in theaters.”

April shoots him a dirty look. “Yes, I did! I loved it. It’s my favorite movie of the year – maybe ever! I cried, like, four times. ”

Dan’s expression softens as he looks at her. She can’t soothe the blush in her cheeks quick enough.

“You really like movies, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, ever since I was a kid.”

“Maybe I could take you to one sometime.”

She smiles at him. “I’d like that.”

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble fanfic #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction #the bubble 2016 #dieter bravo/f!reader #dieter bravo/you #dieter bravo/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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red1culous · 2 years

Text

A Close Approximation of You

“It’s raining” she declares with an upward glance at the darkening skies. Taking a sip from her cup of coffee and stretches her legs in front of her to occupy the full length of the cushion on the bay window seat.

“Mmm…aren’t you miss perceptive” you smirk as she rolls her eyes at you. Nudging her feet a little she moves them to give you some room to sit. There isn’t much space for you to spread out so you fold your feet under yourself. After a few minutes of you adjusting and readjusting to get comfortable she takes some pity on you and bends one leg at the knee giving you a little more space to get situated.

She chuckles softly eyes still trained on the horizon. “Jerk” she mutters under her breath and gently kicks your knee with her foot. You both share a giggle before getting lost in your own separate worlds again.

Gazing outside you notice the fine drizzle that pelts against the window pane. You watch in wonderment as it turns into a typical autumn deluge of thick, heavy and fat droplets in mere seconds.

Rain clouds continue to gather and the sky is almost blackened out. It casts a sombre hue over the landscape. The dazzle of the sun is finally extinguished and replaced by sudden intermittent bright flashes of lightning that tear out from behind angry clouds. A wild sky roars with fury and you jump slightly with every crack and crash.

“Sorry about today” Nat says softly, almost mumbling as she bumps your knee again.

“It’s fine, Nat” you reply a tight lipped smile gracing your lips.

“I feel like it’s not” she answers fidgeting anxiously with the hem of her sweater.

“I’m a tough cookie, I’ll be fine.” Your words are teasing but Natasha notes how your gaze remains solemn.

Her eyes trail over the angry bruise that’s starting to form black, blue and purple on your left cheekbone. Her stomach flips on itself. She didn’t think she would ever feel as miserable as she did right now. And she’s had some pretty miserable moments in her life. Her throat tightens. She should let you go before you got in any deeper, before she messes up your life…your face…any more than she already has.

“After what happened…” she starts her voice rough, “…the move…our relationship…maybe it’s a bad id-…”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence” you warn. This time your eyes are trained on her. She sees a flash of pain within them and it kills her.

Looking down at her fingers she sighs softly. “He came at you to get to me and I can’t…” Natasha pauses as if reigning in her emotions. “I can’t let you get hurt because of me.”

You gape at her. Your anger still bristling and threatening to overflow. “I knew about the risks Nat.” You shake your head at her, “why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s who I am Y/N. This whole fucked up situation. I’m apart of it, whether I like it or not. If you’re in my life you’ll also be affected by it. All the skeletons in my past. And the demons that haunt me. You really wanna be apart of that? Do you?!” she spits back. She feels the bile rise in her throat as she imagines what could have happened today. How she could actually be mourning you instead of sitting opposite you.

“I know what you’re doing, Nat. You’re pushing me away when you should be letting me in” you push yourself up to sit up straight. Your voice quivers but you will yourself to continue in spite of the dull ache in your ribs. “I’m your girlfriend damn it. And if this is you trying to get me to dump you so that you don’t have to feel bad about it, then it’s not happening. Although…” you let out a pained chuckle, “…you behaving like this is making the idea hella tempting right now.”

Natasha knows that everything you were saying was right. And seeing you fight back tears was hurting her so much. “I don’t want you to get hurt” she says. Her voice is small but the words feel like a slap across your face. You blink hearing them. Although they sting like a red hot iron you try to keep your emotions calm.

It takes what feels like an eternity before you respond. “This is my reality, Natasha Romanoff. You are my reality” you grab her hands and yank her forward so she’s sitting upright mirroring your pose. “I’m here, with you. Not in some hazy dreamy world where we lock ourselves away from the world and it’s just the two of us. If your past won’t forget about you then let’s forget about it and make a new one.”

“I can’t forget my past” she frees one hand from your vice grip and rakes it through her hair. “It doesn’t want me to be happy. It’s a fucking sadist who gets off of me hurting. And hurting those I love.”

“Then maybe despite all that tough Black Widow talk you’re nothing but a coward” you seethe. Her eyes widen and you see her nostrils flare. No one speaks down to the Black Widow. You didn’t want a fight but if she was spoiling for one you weren’t afraid to bring it.

“Well everyone warned you about me” she says instantly regretting her words as soon as they’re spoken.

Your breath catches. This time you release your grip on her and lean back a little. You needed to put some distance between the two of you. Suddenly her presence felt suffocating. Her words hurt more than the hits and blows you were dealt with earlier today.

“Yea they warned me alright” you sigh. “But silly old me thought I’d give us a chance and prove them all wrong.” You let out a frustrated breath. “I thought I saw something genuine in you.”

Fuck, Natasha curses to herself. This is not how this evening was meant to go. Her guts twist inside of her and her chest aches seeing you so small. Your chin quivers and her inner voice screams at her.

IF YOU DON’T FIX THIS RIGHT NOW YOU WON’T GET ANOTHER CHANCE TO.

“I’m sorry….” Natasha’s rushes out in a voice entirely not her own. She reaches to touch your hand but you pull away. “You don’t like me right now, I understand that” she adds. “I don’t like me right now either.”

You shake your head slowly. “Right now? Yea I don’t quite like you, right now. But this isn’t you. You’re running for cover. It’s textbook coping mechanism and I know it all too well. I’m so mad at you right now, you have no idea.” You spit thoroughly annoyed.

Natasha wants to throw herself at your feet and beg for forgiveness. You just look at her and she can’t read your emotions through your fierce stare. The anger running through your veins cools to mild irritance. God your girlfriend was a child when it came to matters of the heart.

“I’m sor-” she says once again staring at the space between the both of you.

“Shut up” you interrupt.

“What?” she finally looks at you and she struggles to hold back the tears.

“Just shut up and come over here before I change my mind” you order.

A bewildered sound escapes her mouth but she wastes no time crawling over to you and cuddles into your embrace her ear pressed up against your heart.

“You’re a real asshole you know that Romanoff” you say into her hair.

“I’m sorry” she replies tugging you closer to her.

“Just…” you squeeze her and readjust yourself against the pillows behind you, “…I’m still mad at you so just be quiet ok.”

---

Tagging:

@whataloadof @when-wolves-howl @youralphawolf72 @blackwidowismylove @screechcat

#redfic #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #A Close Approximation of You

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dreamofjoys · 2 years

Text

overblot!malleus draconia/ multiverse of madness

a/n: this fic was heavily inspired by the recent marvel movie, multiverse of madness, which is directed by sam raimi. the plot in this fic is almost similar to the one in the movie. don't proceed if you do not want to be spoiled

scenario: losing you to death was something that malleus will never be able to get over. you fell into the underworld, and no matter how desperate malleus is, he could never get you back. there was no body to mourn for, not when your body has already dissolved into ashes. he grieves, but at the same time, he also dreamt of you. you, who were smiling with him while holding your newborn baby. it was a sweet dream, until he realised that it wasn't. there was another you out there, and he would do anything to bring you back into his arms, even if it means being a holder of dark hold and breaking the rules

genre: angst , fem reader

tw: spoilers for chapter 6 main story, spoilers for MOM (kinda), malleus suffers with no happy ending and realises that he is going to be lonely forever , suicidal thoughts , my english died half way while writing this

guide to reading the fic:

this means that malleus is dreaming (usually about md and y/n 1)

md is referred as malleus from another universe

y/n 1 is referred as you from another universe

the thunder roars across the sky in twisted wonderland. the lightning pattern represents the crack on malleus's heart. the rain that poured down heavily represents the tears that malleus will never shed for anyone, except you.

it was the most disastrous day for malleus when he heard that you have fell into the underworld while attempting to save your friends from the titans. vil and the others had tried to get you back, but you plunged the thunder spear onto the seal of the underworld, causing you to fall inside and to never come out. in the end, they could only return back to nrc and deliver the news back to malleus.

malleus had threatened idia to reveal the location of "island of the grief", which idia promptly did, not wanting to further anger the dragon. when he arrived at the gate of the underworld, that was when he realised that you were never going to come back. there were no signs of living species, and he wasn't allowed to open the gate of the underworld. you were never going to come back to him, and that was something that he could never accept.

malleus returns back to his homeland and watch his guards bury your supposedly body into the rich soil of valley of thorns. there was nothing left of you, so they could only prepare an empty coffin and funeral, a sign to remember you as the prince's lover, but also a painful reminder to malleus that you are dead.

he lowers himself to the ground and stares at your grave. soft hands caressing the picture of you as he read the words that are engraved on the stone.

here lies y/n l/n,

lover of malleus draconia,

prefect of ramshackle dorm at nrc,

may she rest in peace

a bitter feeling surged through his veins as he thought of the cause of your death. it was this stupid school that made you go through so much trouble. if only he held you back from going to the land of grief, if only he kept you close to him, if only he was there.......

perhaps thats the part that hurts the most. if he was there, you would never fall into the underworld. heck, he wouldn't even let you get close to it. but he wasn't there, and you died, alone.

malleus isolated himself from everyone, only staying in his room and never coming out. not even his closest retainers could get close to him. whenever they try to open the door, thunder roars through the sky, a warning to not get close to him, to not step foot into his room. seeing how heartbroken the prince is, the queen ordered everyone not to disturb him, only to leave food outside his chambers and head to any orders that was given by him.

he never wants to go back to nrc, fearing that if he did, he might murder crowley for always using you and putting you in trouble. if he saw the shroud brothers, he might just lose control and blame them for being responsible for your death. so many thoughts and emotions flowing through him at a time, malleus wish that he could just sleep off and forget about everything.

that night, he dreamt of you. in that dream, he had gotten down in one knee in front of you, a small box clasped on his hand as he opens it, revealing a diamond ring.

"y/n, you are the first person that i have come to love during my long life as a royal in valley of thorns. you are the air that i breathe, the moon that shines brightly in my dark sky, and the source of my happiness. today, i kneel before you and ask if you would like to bless this prince with eternal happiness. y/n l/n, would you do the honor of letting this prince be your husband? he promise to love you for eternity, treat you with upmost care and stay by your side forever." tears started spilling out from your eyes as you screamed yes, letting the prince put on the ring on your ring finger. everyone around you guys screamed with joy. the prince has finally found his eternal happiness, and you finally found your forever.

malleus woke up with a cold sweat. it was a really sweet dream. it was exactly how he would propose to you, and your reactions were exactly how he imagined it to be. things would have been like this if you were still alive...

what malleus doesn't realise is that some dreams are not dreams at all. whenever he close his eyes, he would dream of you and him together, leading a happy life that he had planned for the both of you. in this dream, the both of you are already crowned as king and queen of valley of thorns. moreover, you are pregnant with his child.

"malleus, come here! the baby is kicking!" you motioned for your husband who is sitting on his desk to come over and touch your stomach. "what's wrong? did the baby hurt you?" worried features painted malleus's face as he sat down beside you, putting an arm around your shoulder while rubbing your stomach, inspecting for injuries. "no, i just want you to feel the baby's kick." you giggled at your husband's overprotectiveness. almost instantly, the baby kicked again, right on malleus's palm. malleus smiles widely at the contact with his child. he leans down and place a kiss on your stomach, rubbing your stomach affectionately on the very spot that the baby has just kicked. "you naughty child, so desperate to touch your father and greet him hm? fine then, i will rub on your mother's stomach whenever i have time. don't kick your mother too much okay? we don't want to hurt her." malleus whispers to your stomach, and then the baby kicked again. the both of you laughed, seemingly excited to wait for your child to be born and finally hold them in your arms.

"this dreams are getting a little too real." malleus mumbled to himself, finally waking up from his afternoon nap. he sighs and looks at the picture framed of the both of you on his desk. it was a selfie photo of the both of you. in the picture, your cheeks were puffed out like a puffer fish, holding up a vanilla ice cream. he stood beside you, tilting his head while staring at the ice cream in your hand. you took that picture when you caught him oogling over your ice cream, thinking that it would be a good blackmail material. but that picture soon became a favourite of malleus. you look so cute in it, how he wish that he was looking at you instead of the ice cream.

his heart aches at the thought of you again. how he wish that... you were here to comfort him. the dragon could only cry at the loss of his beloved, and once again, return back to sleep.

"she looks exactly like you, my queen." malleus cooes at the baby girl in your arms, smiling in adoration as the baby opened her eyes, revealing her slitted green eyes. "oh, but she has your eyes." you smiled at the baby in your arms, watching her staring at your husband intensely. "my king, i think she prefers you more than me." you pouted, trying to fake being sad at the lack of attention that your newborn is giving. malleus chuckles and rubs your head. "ah, my daughter is so beautiful, just like her mother. don't worry, i will treat the both of you well."

malleus jolted up, finally ending the dream. he pants heavily and runs his hand through his hair. what was that? it felt too real to be a dream. moreover, it seems that the recent dreams he had of you and him are both connected. he thought to himself, wondering if he has finally gone crazy to the point that he had decided to make up a happy ending of you and him together. but what if that wasn't a dream? what if it was real? maybe you are somewhere out there with him living a happy life? no, this won't do. he wants to be that malleus in his dream, but how? malleus needs answers, and the only thing that can give him that, is the darkhold.

stepping out of his room, he could finally breathe some fresh air. the guards who were guarding outside only bowed at his presence, not daring to question anything that he is going to do. malleus only ignores them, and proceeds to the forbidden chamber, where the darkhold lies.

another set of guards were guarding the forbidden chamber, and bowed upon the arrival of the prince. like the previous guards, they did not dare to question malleus's intention. under the queen's order, they were not allowed to disturb malleus and to obey any orders that malleus had given. knowing that no one would disturb him, malleus swiftly enters the forbidden chamber, going to the direction where the darkhold was being placed at.

deep down, malleus knew that it was wrong. the darkhold corrupts everything and anyone who touches it. valley of thorns was in charge of guarding it as the queen's magic was powerful enough to dispel anyone from getting near it. but apparently, malleus was still able to handle it. he dismissed the magic that were guarding the darkhold, and starting reading through its contents.

malleus was bewildered. the multiverse was real, and that dreams are the window to their alternate self. that means, you are still alive in other universe! and the dream that he had of you and him getting married was real! now, he just needs to get to the other you.... even if it means getting rid of his other self.

black ink starts to stain his body, fingertips going full black as a black, and ugly figure sprout out from his back. the prince has finally overblotted, and the darkhold has successfully corrupted him.

he chants out the spells in the darkhold, and find circular green orbs floating around him, each showing the different version of you. when he finally found the other you that he has been dreaming about, he chanted another list of spell, opening a portal to other you's world.

when malleus successfully opened the portal, he could finally see you... or rather other you, sleeping soundly on the bed. without any hesitation, he uses magic to drag other you out of bed, and into his world, before closing the portal and waiting for other you to wake up.

from this point onwards, the story will be third person

y/n1 woke up at the sudden change of environment. this environment feels... darker, she thought to herself as she stood up and observed her surrounding. she was in a rather dark room, with many books lying around the ground. those books looks like the forbidden books that the valley of thorns are guarding.. was she in the forbidden chamber? but how?!

it was then, y/n1 noticed a dark figure at the corner of the room. the figure slowly approach her, revealing its true identity. infront of her stood malleus, who has grown visibly even more taller. black tears slipping out of his eyes, hands reaching forward to touch her.

"you are not the md that i know. who are you?" y/n1 asked malleus as he stood rooted to the ground, hands suddenly halting midair. y/n1 had witnessed this scene way too many times. all the overblots that had happened in nrc had made her more aware and sensitive to who is at risk of overblotting.

the person infront of her looks like md, but at the same time, is not him. "i am malleus draconia, your lover." malleus introduced himself, in hopes that y/n1 would smile at him and jump into his arms like y/n always did.

"you are malleus yes, but you are from another universe, right?" y/n1 averted her eyes away from malleus and looks at the darkhold that he is holding. "i know what the darkhold is capable of doing, and thats because i had heard of what it has done to its user. i don't know what is your intention for bringing me here, but i need to go back to my universe. i have a husband and a daughter waiting for me."

"no, you will stay here."

"and may i ask why?"

"because i miss you."

"how about finding the other me in your universe then?"

"...she died......"

y/n1 pressed her lips at the sudden comment. the other her.. died and left this malleus alone? she can understand why this malleus overblots now. md has always been clingy and overprotective towards her, and one of his fears was that y/n1 would die early due to her being human.

y/n1 suddenly felt guilty and sad. she couldn't imagine leaving her md and daughter all alone, it would break their heart and hers. but no matter how much pity she felt for the current malleus that is standing infront of her, she needed to go back to her real home. she is not just a wife and a mother, but a queen to valley of thorns.

"stay with me please, i can't lose you again." malleus begged y/n1, trying to get closer to her. but y/n1 only shook her head and step away from malleus. seeing how y/n1 rejected him, malleus felt his heart being shattered into pieces again. but slowly, this heartbreak transformed into anger. why is y/n1 rejecting him? y/n has never done that before! aren't the both of them the same?

malleus gathers his magic, wanting to knock y/n1 out. but then, a stern and commanding voice stopped him. "malleus, stop." the voice was enough send chills down to malleus's spine as he turned around, only to find his grandmother staring at him. thorns started gathering around malleus as they restraint malleus down to the ground. for every moment that he resist against the thorns, it only pricks and punctures into his skin, causing him to scream in pain.

y/n1 panics. seeing malleus like this.. reminds her of md so much, she couldn't bear to see him in pain. "my queen, please-"

"y/n1, please forgive my grandson's rudeness." the queen stepped forward to y/n1, and took a look at her face. though the queen had only met y/n a few times, she already loved the girl for her bright personality. the queen knew how much malleus loves her, and how her death has affected malleus a lot. but rules are rules, and malleus had broken them. no matter how sad malleus is, he needs to be punished for his crime.

"will he be okay?" y/n1 asked as she looks at malleus, who has already stopped screaming and resisting against the thorns. he could only pant heavily, and stare at the wall, wishing that y/n is here.

"don't worry, he will be punished for his crimes. im afraid you can't stay any longer in this universe, so as to avoid incursion. i will send you back home." the queen explained, already gathering her magic to open up a portal for y/n1.

before entering the portal, y/n1 looked at malleus one last time. she squat down infront of him and gave him a head pat. "im sure your y/n wouldn't want to see you like this, it would break her heart. know that no matter where she go, she will always love you."

when y/n1 left, the blot figure hanging onto malleus disappeared. malleus laid on the ground, realising what he had just done. he broke the rules. he, the crown prince of valley of thorns, broke the rules.

"guards, lock the crown prince up in the deepest part of the prison. he shall spend his remaining time there reflecting on his actions until i deem fit to release him." those were his grandmother's orders before he was left in the cold dark prison, again, with no one to rely on.

it has been days since malleus was chained up in the prison. he refuses to eat and drink, and was ashamed to face everyone.

how i wish i could die right now. malleus thought to himself as he heaves out a sigh. life without y/n... is nothing. just when malleus was deep in his thoughts, a bright circle portal appeared infront of him. if any of his retainers were here with him, they would have immediately pushed malleus away from the portal, fearing that it was an assassin.

a figure walks out of the portal. if someone were to see these right now, they would be so confused. because the figure who walked out of the portal is... him?

"hello, i am md, the king of valley of thorns, husband of y/n1. how are you feeling?"

ah, malleus gets it now. his alternate self came to visit him.

"still alive and breathing, as you can tell." md chuckled at malleus's remark, before resuming back to his serious face.

"i heard everything about you through my wife."

"are you here to kill me then? if you are, please feel free to do so."

md only stares at malleus blankly, a look of sympathy flashes through his eyes as he sighed, running his hand through his long green locks. "y/n1 and i was worried about you."

malleus raised his eyebrow, signaling md to continue.

"i dreamt of you too. the moments between you and your y/n, i had witnessed them. your y/n is really lovable, just like mine. i felt your pain and sorrows when your y/n died. it was like a nightmare to me everyday as i fear that my own y/n1 would end up like yours. i only came to tell you to not to worry, i will love and protect my y/n1, just like how you did to yours. know that y/n1 will be loved." with that, md disappeared along with the portal.

malleus laughs bitterly, before he lets out a dragonic roar, shaking the grounds of valley of thorns.

there are 2 people who understand malleus. one is y/n, who had already died. the other one was md, his alternate self who he can never see again.

malleus was doomed to be alone forever, and he really hates it.

#twisted wonderland #imagines #malleus draconia #y/n #diasomnia #alternate au #twst malleus #dreamofjoystwst #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #malleus imagine #malleus headcanons #malleus x reader #malleus x mc

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