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tlcwrites · 3 years

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Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,” Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ‘til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly. “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.

#writer wednesday #steve x bucky #stucky #steve rogers fic #pride #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #love is love #happy pride #steve rogers x bucky barnes #platonic reader #my writing

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ejlovespie · 3 years

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I know You

(Part 2 of 2)

Fandom: Supernatural - Author: EJ (@ejlovespie)

Summary: The reader was attacked and stabbed by a shapeshifter disguised as the man she loves. Will she be able to face her trauma and finally tell him how she feels? Read Part 1.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1726

Warnings: Graphic Violence/Near Death/Fear/Angst/Insecurity/Suicidal thoughts and descriptions/Eventual Fluff

***Part 1 has GRAPHIC details of being stabbed and assaulted. Do NOT read if violence and descriptions of assault (sexual comments and being thrown onto a bed) are a trigger for you. Part 2 has suicidal thoughts and descriptions. Please do NOT read if suicide is a trigger for you. ***

Reader’s Request: Can you pleaaase write a dean x reader angst+fluff+near death one shot where they have feelings for each other but they're too insecure to say anything about it, and then one day the reader is in a motel room alone waiting for dean and Sam to come back from somewhere, and suddenly shapeshifter dean comes in and stabs her multiple times and leaves her bleeding on the floor until real Dean and Sam come back.

A/N: Thank you for the request Anon!! This one was tough to write but I really hope you enjoy it. I am SO SORRY it took so long. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :)

You were used to Dean Winchester being a constant in your dreams. That was what happened when you were in love with someone. You used to eagerly await sleep and the gift your mind would give you at night. Dreaming of Dean had been the only form of intimacy you were allowed...Until now. You still dreamt of him but your dreams had turned into nightmares. Images of being thrown on the bed, those dark, hate filled eyes staring into you, a knife plugging into your body. Every night you woke up screaming in terror. Sam would run to your room and turn on the lights before hugging and comforting you but his kindness had made you feel worse. The truth was you hated yourself. Dean was gone because of you, apart from his brother because of you.

It had been two months since the attack. You spent four weeks in the hospital before being discharged and given a hundred pamphlets on trauma. Dean had come by a few times but stopped trying when you would see him and immediately have a major panic attack. Eventually, he left and never came back. Sam had told you he was hunting the shifter and giving you space to heal and that had made you feel worse. Knowing you pushed him away made your chest ache. You LOVED Dean Winchester and your heart broke knowing he had found you and rushed you to the hospital. He had saved your life and stayed by your side every day and you repaid him by losing your shit whenever he walked in the room. Logically you knew what happened wasn’t Dean’s fault. You KNEW He didn’t do anything wrong but your reaction to seeing him was always the same. You didn’t see the man you loved when you looked into his eyes, only the nightmare you had lived through.

You and Sam had been staying at Bobby’s for the last month and every time you glanced at the single framed photo of the boys on the desk you broke out into a sweat. Eventually, the photo had disappeared and you hated the relief you had felt. There were days you were so miserable and you hated yourself so much that you wondered why you had survived the attack in the first place. You would have been better off dead. At first you tried to read through the information from the hospital’s psychiatrist but you ended up throwing all the pamphlets away. You had taken her advice and tried going out and for a walk but anxiety had forced you back inside, tears streaming down your face. Sam would try to talk to you, had even tried getting you out of the house to hit the library with him but you couldn’t do it. Every day, the grief you felt grew until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Waking up from yet another night terror, you grabbed the knife you had been hiding in your bedside table. Pulling it out, you stared at the blade for a long time while silent tears ran down your face. You clutched the knife in your hands and let yourself feel all of the pain, all of the grief and self-hatred you had been carrying. It washed over you until numbness took its place. You couldn’t live like this. You thought about Sam and Bobby and all of the people you had helped over the years. Would they forgive you? You thought about Dean, the man you loved; the man you missed more than anything and fought against the fear you now associated with him. Suddenly, a memory flooded your thoughts.

You were driving down a long country road in the Impala. Dean was driving and blaring one of his tapes, singing along to it like he didn’t have a care in the world. You were surrounded by green fields and you smiled at the cows and horses grazing lazily. Your hair whipped around your face and you smiled when you breathed in deeply. You smelled the grass and wet pavement outside but even more strongly you could smell Dean’s cologne and the familiar leather and gasoline smell of the car. It was your favorite smell in the world. You looked at Dean when he turned the music down. With his familiar grin he asked, “What are you smiling about?”

You looked at him then, into his gorgeous green eyes, and you studied his face. His full lips and perfect smile, straight nose, and strong jaw. He was so handsome and his focused gaze made you blush. That was the moment you realized you had fallen in love with the older Winchester. It washed over you, a feeling of pure happiness and comfort. Dean was smiling at you and he poked you in the side before asking, “C’mon Y/N. What are you so happy about?”

Turning away from him, you swatted his hand away playfully. “Keep your eyes on the road Winchester. I don’t feel like dying today.”

Chuckling, Dean complied, placing his hand back on the wheel and looking back at the open road. He continued, “You look happy is all..you’re smiling bigger than I have seen before. So, what’s up?”

I love you, you thought to yourself. Instead of answering him you asked a question of your own. “Why are you so happy? I know you and you aren’t this happy unless you’re eating pie.” Laughing again, Dean shrugged before turning the music up and singing along loudly with the song. You laughed too and started to sing along with him, content and happy living in the moment.

The memory faded. Looking down at the knife in your arms, you threw it on the ground and forced yourself to settle your breathing. ‘I know you.’ You said it out loud to yourself and forced yourself to think about your Dean. His smile. His laugh. His eyes. ‘I know you.’ Him singing along to the music in his car. ‘I know you.’ Him hugging you to him whenever one of you was sad. ‘I know you.’ Him fixing up his beloved car at Bobby’s. ‘I know you.’ The two of you drinking together and his goofy grin as he teased you about the faces you made. ‘I know you.’ His fierce love and protectiveness for his family. ‘I know you.’ All of the memories had your eyes welling up again and you quickly got up and slid out the front door so you didn’t wake Sam or Bobby. Running down the drive, you collapsed in the garage and began to sob. When your tears finally began to run out you gasped out the truth you had never said out loud before.

“I am so fucking sorry Dean..I love you so fucking much and I..I miss you..I..I can’t do this without you because my life isn’t worth living without you in it. You’re my best friend and loving you has made me stronger. It has made me feel truly alive and I..I am so sorry...I know you. I fucking know you and I know that thing wasn’t you! Please come back.”

You jumped at a sound behind you and whipped your head around to see Dean. He stood a few yards away with unshed tears in his eyes. Relief filled you when you realized you didn’t feel panic rising up inside you. For the first time in two months you were only seeing your Dean. A smile spread across your face before falling. “..You heard what I said, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. You could tell by the look on his face he had. Dean slowly walked toward you, pausing a few feet away and crouching down. “I love you too, Y/N. I..I didn’t know it until I almost lost you but I do. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me..You made me feel again and if you had died, you would have taken a piece of me with you.”

Gasping, you flung yourself to him and let Dean wrap his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest and clung to him, inhaling his cologne. You felt his hands on your back, rubbing small, calming circles. With a watery smile, you reached up and fingered the pendant on his necklace. It brought you instant comfort and you repeated your new mantra silently in your head. ‘I know you.’ This was your Dean. You would always know the difference. You both stayed like that for a long time, embracing each other. Neither of you even noticed when Sam walked up, looking for Y/N, and then backing away as to not ruin the moment. Eventually, you pulled apart and just looked at each other. Tentatively, Dean placed a hand on your cheek, pausing to study your face for approval. You nodded and he rubbed his thumb over your skin.

His eyes were so soft and he was looking at you with so much love and tenderness it made you self conscious for the first time in months. Glancing away in embarrassment you wished you were wearing something other than a baggy, stained shirt and sweatpants. You knew how you looked and were all too conscious of the fact that you were an absolute mess. Thinking about your puffy red eyes and matted hair had you cringing. How could this gorgeous man love you in the same way you loved him. You were so far out of his league. Dean’s fingers gently lifted your chin to look up at him before brushing some hair out of your face. “Please don’t hide from me, beautiful. I have missed you so much. I know it's going to take some time but I want you to know I found the son of a bitch. He’s dead..And I promise I will NEVER let anyone touch you again. I will keep you safe. I hope that helps..”

Not sure what to say you just nodded and hugged him again. You would analyze that information and how you felt about it later. For now, you were going to let yourself be held by the man you loved, a man who apparently loved you back, and be grateful for the fact that you were alive and finally together.

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@beabutterfly987

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@slamminmine

@deandreamernp

@the-white-shadow-of-hydra

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@the-mystery-spot

#dean winchester #dean #Sam Winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean angst #dean fluff #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #spn #spn fanfiction #spn angst #spn fluff

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sorcererrezan · 3 years

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golden hour

prompt fill for @ataleofcrowns. congratulations on the chapter 6 release cherry! 💛

prompt: facade pairing: navid/xelef rating: T word count: 2,042 warning: spoilers for X’s scene during chapter 6!

—

Xelef is rather partial to the color gold.

Gold meant a full belly. Gold meant a job well done. Gold meant having survived yet another battle.

Gold motivated him and the people around him. Gold got him into trouble as easily as it got him out of it.

So when gold eyes looked defiantly into his, a spark of light brightening that nebulous place where his intuition resides, and dropped a heavy sack clinking with a familiar sound, there was no other option but to say yes.

Xelef’s not quite sure when he starts thinking of the flash of cleverness in Navid’s eyes more than the sparkle of coin.

Just the night before, Heval forced him to examine this new tendency and why they haven’t yet moved on from Marabad. He’d resisted giving Heval the satisfaction of his admission at the time, but that was before his tendency powered his sprint to the tunnels and the burst of fire that kept Navid safe.

If Xelef’s urgency directed his aim closer to the kill than he intended, it was only because he wanted to do a thorough job. Certainly not because for a split second, the jagged edges of fear pierced through the hard acceptance that has fused with the shell of his heart.

That was before he discovered just how common of an enemy he and Navid have. Before gold also became something to defend instead of just throw at his leisure.

He didn’t divulge anything to the Blades besides the public warning that the Palace issued—which he still disagrees with, but spirits know there’s a reason it’s not him making those decisions.

Xelef felt Heval’s questioning suspicion curb somewhat, as well as the Blades’ recommitment to Navid. It helped him regain some stability in himself. As long as he’s not the only one with a soft spot for the newfound Crown he can tell himself that the way Navid affects him isn’t unique.

None of them had embraced Navid until his tears and the grip of his nightmare dissipated though. The intensity of Navid’s vulnerability had stunned him that night. Xelef thinks he might be able to relate to the way that his walls must have crumbled under their own weight during that moment, when the relief of a mission accomplished finally gave way to exhaustion. If he ever experiences it for himself, that is.

Instead of being unsettled by the raw display of emotion he’d had to insist on leaving Navid behind, lest the way his eyes wavered like coins at the bottom of a fountain compelled him to do something neither of them were ready for.

Despite the magnetic tension between them, he knows that they don’t trust each other. He’d considered Navid’s feelings only briefly when he conceived his plan before deciding to just deal with the consequences.

Well, now here they are. He’d anticipated how Navid might feel once his shrewd mind pieced it all together, but Xelef hadn’t foreseen how much he’d care.

It needles at him, the way Navid takes his motivations regarding coin at face value when they discuss the coronation. And it needles at him that it needles at him. That’s what he wants the Crown to believe anyway, right?

The dissonance isn’t really something he wants to entertain so he distracts himself by distracting Navid.

It’s rather more fun to catch the Crown staring at him than contemplate why there’s a kernel of him that anticipates an opportunity to be seen. Not just looked at as he so often is, up for strangers’ interpretation as he is now so used to, but seen.

The gold in Navid’s eyes is alive in a way coin could never be. There’s a playfulness that seems to live in Navid’s irises, which Xelef’s learning is partly a diversion for the cunning survivalist underneath.

Xelef stares right back, shameless in the way he parts the seam of his lips to drag his tongue across the bottom before letting Navid see how the plump softness of it gives under his thumb. He delights in darkening that sparkling mischief into something imaginative and promising and it’s not long before he gives the two of them a reason to leave the room together. The indulgently sly way that Navid looks at him insists that Xelef get him alone.

Awareness thrums between them as they walk together, but he can sense a contemplative mix of emotions from the man next to him. It’s enough to make him curious. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing much, only the fact that I’m now responsible for millions of lives,” Navid is just as practiced as he is at showing who he’s supposed to be. If Xelef couldn’t sense his anxiety he might’ve believed his blithe tone.

The stakes are high and Xelef can feel the weight of that reality on Navid’s shoulders as if it sits on him like a pauldron. It’d be a flattering and dashing pauldron the way Navid wears it, but a symbol of conflict and its inevitable consequences nonetheless.

Xelef meets the slight bite of Navid’s sarcasm with his pragmatism, forged in fire and quenched to harden like steel. “If you obsess over the weight of your choices, you’ll become paralyzed by fear, and in that state you’re of no use to anyone.”

Navid eyes are sharp as he seems to consider not just his words but also his intent. Whatever he decides to himself seems to satisfy him because some of the spark in his eyes returns. Xelef wonders what conclusion Navid came to, to look at him like he knows something Xelef doesn’t.

He thinks he sees some relief in there too, and Xelef tells himself it relieves him in turn because he needs the Crown to be clear-headed and not because of the possibility that sharing his genuine perspective might have made him rise in Navid’s esteem.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Xelef steers them back into familiar waters with a self-satisfied twist of his lips. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Navid lets out a huff of a chuckle. He must be more exhausted than he let on because they slide into silence again. Xelef’s attempt at distracting Navid is successful though and soon enough he’s unable to contain his amusement. Xelef puffs up at the suggestion of his altruism, sliding back into the easy role of carefree rogue.

“Altruistic? Pah! Disgusting.”

But Navid promptly tugs at his facade. “You can drop the act, you know. I know you’re not wholly selfish at heart.”

“Is that what you really think, or is that what you hope for?” A devious rhythm softens the quick reflexes of his defenses even as his heart starts to race. Being exposed is terrifyingly thrilling. Or thrillingly terrifying. Both?

“You do like to perform. The role of carefree mercenary suits you well, I admit. But that can’t be all that there is to you.”

Navid pins him with piercing gold and Xelef hardly realizes as he’s backed against a window. It’s been a long time since anyone cared to find out who he really is as much as Navid ostensibly does.

Navid steps close enough that he has to tilt his chin down to hold his gaze and even he can’t deny that the proximity makes him feel like a live wire, like his pulse itself might jump out of his skin so it can press against the man who’s always so tantalizingly near.

Xelef considers that he might have met his match in Navid with a smirk.

Navid already has a decently apt approximation of him, despite Xelef’s penchant for misdirection and the fact that they’ve only really known each other a handful of days. Xelef’s moved quickly in the past but never quite like this.

But then again, nothing gets him into trouble as easily as gold.

“Navid.”

Xelef reaches a hand out, soothing a knuckle against the slightly puckered scar on Navid’s cheek. He’ll have to ask him the story behind it soon.

“If you wish for me to treat you tenderly, you need only ask.”

It comes out as a gentler murmur than he intends. Xelef doesn’t need to speak up to be heard after all, with how much closer Navid gets as he anchors a rough hand on top of his. It’s as close to an acknowledgement of Xelef’s complex and often contradictory thoughts and emotions about the man in front of him—the ones he prefers to leave unaddressed because they leave him feeling uncomfortably bare.

“Don’t tempt me, Xelef,” Navid’s voice is rough with restraint as his thick brows furrow with caution. “I’ll start believing you.”

“I lie about a lot of things, my dark-haired beauty, but never about this.”

“That’s a lie,” Navid purses his lips, eyes narrowing even as he considers his own assertion. It’s a look that Xelef has seen on him before, usually around a table with others, as Navid weighs the reality of what he knows against the possibilities of what he doesn’t to figure out how to move forward.

Just like earlier, Xelef feels the foreign compulsion for Navid to have confidence in him. It’s been a while since he cared to prove himself to anyone, and even now his better sense is reminding him that the distance he places between himself and others is there out of necessity. If he weren’t deep in the shit of it he’d find it amusingly fitting that they can both see glimpses past each other’s bravado. Of course the person that interests him most is also the one that directly challenges him to leave the familiarity of his facade.

“Perhaps.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny it, though it’s getting harder and harder to ignore his hope that Navid will just figure it out and acknowledge it for both of their sakes. Whether his evasiveness is a test of Navid’s understanding of him or his own hesitation to be understood, he can’t determine.

Neither can Navid it seems, because he redirects them to less murky waters. “And what is this, exactly?”

Xelef doesn’t answer immediately, taking his time to admire the sharp lines of Navid’s handsome face to reinforce his memory of it for later, after they part for the night.

“Right now? I would call this a flirtation,” this part is easy to admit. Flirtation comes naturally to both of them. He’s noticed the easy compliments Navid gives to others, how he effortlessly keeps those he thinks he might have use for close. His motives seem genuine enough—Xelef himself knows what the line between manipulation and exploitation looks like—though his charisma certainly has a craftily calculating edge to it.

“But we can make it anything you want it to be.”

Xelef leaves the rest up to Navid’s astute interpretation. An acute sense of anticipation holds him in place as Navid opens his mouth to respond and Xelef internally wills him to see—

—Magic displaces above Navid’s head, and the breath Xelef had been holding spills out as a laugh. Whatever Navid was about to say is swept up in him trying to recover from the spirits giving him away.

Ah well. At least he’ll have something to tease Navid about later.

Xelef doesn’t question how easy it is to insist that he keep his dagger with him. What would it mean if he and Navid use the same blade the first time they have to kill? Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything at all, but it reassures him that even if he’s away he can still be there for Navid when it happens, when the world inexorably reminds him of why he’ll always have to protect himself.

Is that altruism? When he tries to correct his own buried regrets by helping someone else avoid having the same ones?

Even more questions he’s not sure he wants to find the answers to.

But when he feels Navid’s resolve solidify inside him, sees the squaring of his shoulders as he lifts his gaze from the designs on his door and takes a steadying breath before stepping inside, Xelef knows he’ll have to accept that it might not end up being up to him anyway.

Gold just might be the death of him.

fin.

author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do a character study in X’s perspective for a while and there were so many LAYERS to their scene in chapter 6 that i took a one word prompt and wrote two thousand words about it lmao. i wanted to explore the duality between X’s persona and their actions and set a starting point for them early in the romance.

there’s a really delicious tension right now when they’re not acknowledging their deeper interest in the crown despite the fact that they’re always eye fucking whenever they can so much as see each other. i also wanted to play with the fact that they both know that there’s more than meets the eye and ALSO that they’re being manipulated in the grander scheme of their own personal agendas.

i also wanted to mold navid’s characterization from the perspective of someone trying to resist falling in love with him. spoiler alert X, it’s impossible. anyways! so many thoughts, head full of X. hope i did my favorite royal boy toy justice 🤎

#a tale of crowns #atoc #atoc prompt #xelara/xelef #oc: navid riahi #otp: for you i'll try my very best #distractions to lovers really HIT in chapter 6 😫🥺#fic

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javisjeanjacket · 4 years

Text

Saturated Filter - (ezra x fem!reader)

A/N: “hi and welcome back to me screaming. AHHH” this is part two of how hai is coping with the 2020 election.

I definitely cried while writing this and I’m not for sure if it’s from the tension of the election or because it just really hits but i guess we’ll see! lol

Also Zeek if you see this....I FEEL WHAT I FEEL OKAY DONT COME FOR ME

Warnings: reader has some anxiety (lol SAME) but not a full on attack or anything, just a lil fluffy angsty boy :)

Word count: 2.1K

A soft mist settled over the harsh lines of your helmet and your breath fogged up at the bottom of glass orb.

Your hands rooted around in the moist earth in front of you, your eyes scanning the soil for any hint of a rouchestone bed. Your breath was flighty, your bones felt as if they turned hollow and avian. You pushed aside a clump of foliage and you saw the tell tell waved lines of water venturing through the dirt, down towards the promise of a bed of dainty gems. You pawed at them gingerly, brushing away the earth and insects as you looked. Your heart burned just under your collarbone, scratching and clawing for her way upwards. To spill down your lips and come alive in the oxygen in your helmet.

'You be careful out there, little bird.' He had warned. He had strapped a fresh filter into your air purifier and allowed his hand to linger at your side. 'Not the friendliest of vermin out here.'

You had smiled at Ezra softly, his tenderness extracting a strange pull from your chest. Letting out a loud sigh, you swallowed and pulled a small pad of paper from your utility belt and began to jot down the coordinates of the rouchestone nest. You tried to make the earth look as undisturbed as possible so as not to alert other prospectors, and then started back again on the trail you and Ezra had mapped out the night before.

Stark mountains stood astutely over the dark treeline ahead of you, clouds and mist sojourning around the massive structure. The planet was beautiful, be it a little harsher than Lah'Mu and the planet the two of you had worked on before it.

Codes to the pod launch sequence, the smell of Ezra's sheets, the happiness of the beetle scurrying across a thick blade of grass by your knee all swirled around your mind, intertwining the drama of an aching heart with the mundane of a hike on a clear day.

'You'll need to take a sharp right here, otherwise you're going to get into a conundrum with an arianic sinking pit.' Ezra had warned you, his eyebrow quirked up and the scar on his cheek stretching to accommodate his expression.

You remembered chuckling at his seriousness, "Ezra, I know how to read a map, I'm not helpless."

The man had spread out his large hands, the tattoo by his thumb catching your eye. "I know you're not, I know..." He had trailed off and run a hand through his hair, the blonde patch near his face mixing with the deep brown strands.

It hadn't felt like falling, realizing you loved the charismatic prospector. It was more like turning on a light switch.

You had felt your hand reaching for the light and your heart dripping from your fingers as you switched it on, and then that was it.

It wasn't a falling, it was a knowing. It was a click and then everything else had become illuminated by that knowing.

You had felt the beginning and end of it at once, almost strong enough to knock you to the dirt floor below.

The lines of him, the home that housed the spirit, had become so familiar to you that you felt you could take him with you anywhere. Draw his figure when you needed it, take a brief reprieve in his presence.

And that knowing, the fact of love and it's permanence, sent a shiver down your spine.

Sure, you had been with other people before Ezra, even convinced yourself you loved some of them, but it had never been as absolute as this.

It felt as if you were made of glass, the way he could pinpoint each emotion and quirk of your lips.

He could somehow understand you better than you understood yourself.

~~~~~~

The cot had never been particularly comfortable. Granted, it was more comfortable now that Ezra had fashioned the two of yours into one larger one, but with the unsupportive bottom of the contraption, the only way you could really rest comfortably was with Ezra's outstretched arm under your neck. You laid like this now, your eyes drifting lazily from one freckle on his arm to the next one, creating a map of them in your mind. Where your breath landed on his arm, the hair on his skin laid flat, but towards his wrist they stood high, outstretched for warmth.

Ezra snored softly and you jerked when his heavy arm gently hit your back, stopping after to rest against you.

You let out a shallow breath, the air surging across his sleeping skin. Water welled in your eyes and burned in your throat.

'What will happen when he's not there to let you lay on his arm anymore?' You thought. 'How will you sleep when he leaves you?'

Air rose in your throat, heat and vigor quick to overwhelm it. A few precious tears escaped from your eye, slipping quickly down your cheek and then dripping onto Ezra's arm below.

The more breaths you took in, the less you felt like you could breathe.

Your chest thumped rapidly and the feeling was not unlike being stuck out in the Green with an over-saturated filter.

The panic rising under your cheeks, the chill creeping up the back of your neck, the forced stillness in your mind.

"Birdie, what's-" Ezra's gravelly voice whispered from behind you. He yawned and ended, "What is it?"'

‘Shit.' You thought. You quickly wiped the tears on your cheeks and sat up from the makeshift bed. "Nothing, I'm just..." You trailed off as your eyes landed on your boots by the side of the cot. "I need to go for a walk." You sniffled as you bent down to wiggle on your boots over your sleep socks.

Ezra chuckled, his hand reaching for your shoulder. "A walk? Honey, I am going to have to protest, it is not in your, or my, best interest to lose you to a free-roaming carnivore." He squeezed your shoulder tightly.

You wiped your dripping nose on your sleeve. "I need to leave, I'll be back."

"Wait, are you crying?" Ezra sat up in the cot, his hand stilled on your shoulder.

Tears construed your vision, making the sealing of your boots incredibly diffucult. You sniffled and continued.

"Sweetheart, talk to me." He whispered, his mouth pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder. One of his hands ran across your back softly, coaxing you back towards him.

Your breath caught in your chest and you looked up from your shoes, eyes fixating on a stack of Ezra's notebooks that were stuffed into a crate on top of a storage unit of rations. You took in several short, hiccuping breaths, but none of them allowed you to exhale as heavily as you needed to.

The creeping and prodding of panic settled over you, forcing you to pump air in and out of your chest rapidly.

Ezra sat up behind you fully, his strong chest pressing against your trembling body and his arms holding your shaking breaths in their embrace. His mouth moved from your shoulder, up the back of your neck and behind your ear. His mustache and patchy beard distracted the panic long enough to provide you a splitsecond's peace.

The gentleness in his touch and the care with which he held you was all together overwhelming.

You rebelled against the ledge he was pushing you towards, the loss of control required in an admittance of love for another person, grinding your heels in and gritting your teeth. "Stop, stop, Ezra, please." You whispered, pushing his arms off of you and standing from the cot. You hurriedly sealed your boots around your sock feet and walked to the other side of the tent, readying your suit.

You could feel the jagged edges of Ezra's emotions as he rose from the bed after you. "Now you have got me as up and bothered as a nest of hornets, birdie. I am missing a part of this equation and I shall be very perturbed should you continue to choose to hide it from me."

Sighing and letting your head fall backwards, you wiped away burning tears from your cheeks. "Ezra, it's not-" You let out a whimpering exhale. "It's not about you, okay. I'm just..." You shook your head.

"I do not like to see you in such pain, honeybee." Ezra said. His feet taking timid steps towards your rigid figure.

You froze, your suit in your hands, clenching and unclenching your jaw. Hot tears rebelled against your tears ducts, screaming for freedom. Two trembling breaths later, you said, "I'm...afraid." The admittance of vulnerability and the rush of a release that came with it washed over you, allowing you a heavy exhale.

Ezra took a few more steps in your direction. "About what?" He asked softly, his tone tender.

You ran a hand over your face and let out a heavy breath. "About you. About us."

You could feel his body heat behind you before he touched you, could sense his body towering over yours, could imagine how hot his hands burned for you. "What have you found to be scared about, sweetheart?" He whispered, a smirk on his face.

"I don't," You began and then turned around to face him. You looked up to his eyes and then back down to your hands fiddling with your suit. "I don't see me the way that you see me. I don't see whatever it is that you see, I just look at me and see you leaving." Your hands shook as they picked at a piece of caked on mud on the wrist seam of your suit, your chest trembling under his gaze. "I see me, alone. And I don't know if I could be alone again."

Ezra crossed the space between you, gently tugging the suit from your grasp and dropping it to the floor. He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, moving his thumb back and forth across your chin. "Sweet girl," He whispered, his voice cracked as he looked over your face. Swollen and innocent and looking at him, needing him. "I very much look forward to the splendor of your company on our expeditions and rather enjoy our banter and the warmth of you in sleep. If you were not a living, breathing, creature, I would likely keep you in my belt pocket to carry you along with me. There is no reason to prepare yourself for the end of our venture, as I could not see it ending short of a complete and total upheaval of each of our lives." His dark eyes searched your features for a response. After not finding one, he continued with a lightened tone, "That is, unless you are harboring a grievance with which you have plans to decimate my poor heart, in which case I ask, my honeybee, that you kill me slowly, so that I may look upon the contours of your face as I go."

His teasing pulled a smirk out of you, subsiding your tears for a beat. "I wish I could trust me the way that you trust me." You looked down to the space in between the two of you. You swallowed against a dry throat and added, "I'm just...terrified."

Ezra nodded and hummed, "Mmm. What's not to trust, birdie?" He flashed you a smile and ran his hand from your cheek down to your shoulder. "Just stay even though you're terrified."

You looked up at him, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. Words felt as if they were never meant to hold a feeling as overpowering as the one currently harboring itself in your chest.

"Be as scared as you need to be, just don't leave me." He said, his hands reaching to take both of yours in his grasp. He looked down to your intertwining fingers and then back up to your eyes. "Please." He breathed the word so softly it had a kind of half life, the prospector fearing it would somehow offend you.

You nodded yes, your eyebrows scrunched in adoration. "Okay."

Ezra ran a big hand over the side of your face, tucking strands of your hair in between his fingers and then placing a strong kiss to your forehead. "Would you lay down with me?" He whispered, his breath hot on your face.

You smiled softly and nodded yes.

Ezra smiled back, the meat of his lip in between his teeth, and gave your hand a squeeze as he lead you back to bed.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @mcolbz14 @softly-sad

#ezra x reader #ezra x y/n #ezra x you #ezra (prospect)#hai writes

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hisunshiine · 3 years

Text

Money Heist | knj | Part 3

moodboard 1 | moodboard 2 | playlist | Netflix ReImagined BTS Masterlist

↳ #NetflixReImaginedBTS: Kim Namjoon x Reader starring in a bank robbery au

↳ M-18+, implied sexual content, major character deaths, bank robbery actions (violence, use of weapons, deciet)

I had never seen anything as mesmerizing as the sun rising beyond the horizon, the contrast of the blue ocean as the warm-toned colors of the sun and skies reflected on it and bounced along with the gentle waves. I took a sip of the mango juice I had poured into a glass as I stared out of the captivating scenery.

Hawaii was a beautiful state.

When Ilsan suggested it should be our next destination after we had arrived back at the beach house, I did not like it but as he adamantly explained, none of us had been identified by the authorities.

It was the perfect time to flee South Korea. We could go undetected and did not have to hide out at Jindo until the heat settled. Ilsan suggested that we could go immediately. Sadly, despite how much of your life you plan for, reality would never reflect your wishes. Sometimes shit happened that was out of your control.

I learned that the hard way. We lost Daegu and Gwacheon while fleeing the bank. Busan and GC were arrested and the authorities knew the identities of Seoul and Gwangju.

The devastation was not the right word to use to express the anger I felt when the police plastered the images of some of us on national television. Unfortunately, Busan and GC were very popular among the locals in Jindo and often went out. People recognized them and it was by the grace of God that Ilsan woke up and heard the commotion of the police busting in and led me out of the beach house.

Guilt was not the right word either. What I felt was far more crippling and disheartening. I left my boys. I did not know where they were or what they were doing to them. I kept wishing that they were alright somehow, that they were still breathing somewhere. However, Ilsan was far less optimistic. He stated on our way out of the country the Korean government would most likely execute them, reminding me that we held the President of the country hostage, tied him up, and stripped him of all of his rights and pride.

Moreover, the stinging pain of actually losing people who I had spent every waking moment hurt me in ways I ever thought possible. As soon as we landed in Hawaii, I sank into a state I could not recognize.

Thankfully, Ilsan took care of me.

As sadistic and ruthless as he was before and during the heist, I saw him in a different light after we had arrived here. He made sure I had the space to process everything that happened when phase four was activated. I failed to protect Daegu and we lost him. I was supposed to have his back and I could not even do that.

GC could not look at me. Everything was ruined from then.

I understood his anger and sympathized when he demanded Ilsan throw me to the police. I understood. He could never forgive me. I felt his pain, the betrayal he felt despite it all being a moment where I did not react accordingly. He hated me and I understood, so I took every hurtful word, every shove and slur tossed my way.

Ilsan would not stand for it.

Regardless of how infuriated GC was, Ilsan forced him to push his feelings aside so the rest of us could make it out alive. I was not allowed to leave Ilsan’s side. He whispered in my ear, as we waited our turn to escape through the backup exit Gwacheon had created, that he was not feeling secure around GC and that I should not either. He said he had seen teams go against each other during a heist and he did not appreciate how GC glared at me.

I never left Ilsan’s side. Even after we came back to Jindo and met up with the Professor. I was not allowed to leave his side. He could not rest properly until we had cut ties and went our separate ways. Ilsan was adamant about getting out of South Korea as fast as we could.

All trust for GC had disappeared and understandably so, but Ilsan could not risk GC opening his mouth and giving the authorities any sort of information about him or me. So, I kept my distance and GC repaid the favor.

I wish I could see him one more time. I did not know where he or Busan was but I was certain they were in the police’s custody.

I clutched my glass as my forehead gently touched the cold surface of the door window looking out to the white beach. Forgiveness was all I wanted from GC and from Busan. I hoped someone was caring for his shoulder. Busan had become weak during the heist and I feared for his recovery. The Professor sent a doctor over to the beach house and he fixed him back up but I was sure that the police did not prioritize his health as much as we did.

My heart ached.

Unfortunately, due to the Professor’s involvement, Interpol was informed and a lot of people suddenly wanted to help South Korea capture everyone who was part of the heist. We had to be careful. It was only a matter of time until our identities would have been revealed too.

Too many thoughts occupied my mind, I did not register that Ilsan was behind me. I felt his bare chest grace my back as his arms wrapped around my frame, his chin resting on my shoulder blade, “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Morning.”

“What are you doing up?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

I shook my head a little as I allowed a small sigh to come out of me. I wanted to tell him what was roaming my mind, the concerns I had, and the overwhelming guilt I felt but knowing Ilsan, I figured he would brush my feelings aside and tell me I was overthinking. Yet as soon as I felt his plump lips on my neck I closed my eyes and allowed the tender kisses to comfort me.

“Talk to me,” he hummed into my skin.

“The others. I’m thinking about the others.”

“Busan and GC?”

“Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung,” I murmured as I remembered learning their names on the plane ride to Hawaii. Ilsan bought a newspaper and he translated what the headlines said about the two thieves. I turned to face him, “Hoseok and Jungkook are still out there. You saw the news yesterday. The kitchen is still hot, Namjoon. There’s too much attention on us.”

“Not on us.”

“It’s just a matter of time.”

“It’s been three months since we did it.” He placed a kiss on my forehead as he pulled me closer to him, “Three months, baby. We are comfortable here and people mind their business.”

“It’s a matter of time.”

“Maybe. But right now, we are safe. We are rich. No one knows us as Namjoon, Y/N, London, or Ilsan. We are Mr. and Mrs. Son.” He smiled, showcasing his dimples as he reached for my hand and kissed the wedding band he had bought a month ago. With new identities and a small ceremony, Hawaii had become the staple of our love. Despite the stress and anxiety that came with robbing a bank, we managed to find a place to settle in and begin our lives as a married couple. It was calm here. And Namjoon was right, we were safe … at least, for now, we were free.

I stared into his rich dark eyes as he swayed my hips. He was being playful.

Ilsan had been hard to read since I met him almost a year ago. However, despite his resistance and innate instincts to pull away and not trust anyone, he somehow began to let his guard down. I knew it bothered him that he was responsible for another person. Much like myself, he was a soloist; always had been and figured he would be forever.

Lovestruck when he least expected it as well. It came as a surprise to both of us. However, I did not regret falling for him.

Ilsan was more than I had ever expected for myself. He was strong, smart with his decisions, and he had a lot of knowledge and experience under his belt. Regardless of his disappointment for the newfound responsibility - mostly due to a deep-rooted fear that he would not be able to protect those who trusted him the most - he never shied away from showcasing his affection for me, his passion for my body, and his enthusiasm about our love.

I leaned into his palm as it began to caress my cheek. Our eyes locked on each other as we studied one another. He pulled me closer to him, his hand now clutching my jaw as his lips met mine for a long and sensual kiss. Groaning into it slightly as the intensity grew, I felt his other hand traveling down to the hem of my t-shirt. His fingernails dug into my thigh as he exposed more of my skin while sliding the t-shirt upward, “I will protect you,” he promised into the kiss, “I will do everything to keep you safe.”

My hands traveled down his bare chest as the kiss grew more passionate. His tongue entered my mouth, slowly dancing sensually and poetically with mine as it became hungrier, almost as desperate as the first night we shared our first kiss.

I could never get tired of kissing him. His lips were soft, pillow-like as they met mine. He took his time; exploring every inch of my body and assuring I received mine before he did. A true gentleman. Often, in our afterglow, he would brag that he took great pride in fulfilling me the way I wanted to.

Those months at the beach house, we had each other on every surface imaginable. Never slowing down our pace, we kept exploring each other. I wanted him, always. I could not keep my hands to myself and neither could he. It was an intense and passionate beginning, one that drove me intoxicatingly mad. The need for each other’s embrace grew so powerful that it almost turned into a drug.

His touch was something I could not be without for too long. It felt as if I was incomplete without him. And he had - numerous times - expressed the exact same unyielding longing for me.

To the others, our relationship came across as something purely based on the physical aspect. Although it started as such, I could not deny that was the basis of it. Today, however, Ilsan was a man I saw a future with, one I cared for deeply. I had said yes when he proposed.

Rose petals all over our condo in Hawaii. Little cute notes scattered everywhere to find the ring he had bought.

When I first met him in Jindo, he did not strike me as a man filled with overwhelming patience, affection, and a whole lot of romance. Ilsan was the embodiment of a romantic lover.

As stern and direct as he was, just as attentive and soft-spoken he could be around me. He cared. More so than any man I had the displeasure to date and call a boyfriend. So, I said yes. I became him and he was mine.

Lost in the drug that was his scent, I moaned into his hungry mouth. Our tongues danced fiercer as desperate pants escaped us while our bodies overheated in arousal. He pushed into the door window, pulling one of my legs over his hip as our lips kept a steady and needy pace.

The print of his erect length brushed against my stomach and my body reacted by shooting electricity from my core as excitement overcame me.

Ilsan and I had not been able to keep our hands off each other ever since our first encounter together. The innate attraction was still very much prominent, even after a year, we could not get enough of each other. It was as if any rational train of thought disappeared and all that was left was this primal and raw need to destroy and claim one another.

Speedily, I reached for his clothed bulge. A growl into my mouth appeared from the depths of his throat. The sudden hold on it along with my desperate need to prepare him to penetrate my eager slit made him clutch my throat in response.

“Baby,” he said slightly out of breath. I stared into his dark eyes, undeniable lust pierced through them as he gawked down my entirety, “I want you slow,” he murmured. I eyed him momentarily, contemplating the words as a ray of memories rushed in my head.

Ilsan and I were not only perfect for each other in terms of lifestyles or love language but we were compatible in ways I had never experienced with a man. When I say he changed my stances and opinions about certain things, I meant it. He was unfamiliar, virtually everything about him was new and exciting. So, when we shared our first lovemaking, I was pleasantly surprised that he fucked me as I had always wanted.

I never instructed him.

It was as if his body was made for mine. Like two perfectly sculpted clays, morphing into one as we explored every inch of each other and discovered that we were nothing without one another but together, we could become something far greater than anything neither of us had experienced.

To say I was deeply in love with him would not begin to justify the emotions I felt for him. He was beyond words. Our love was beyond life.

“Slow,” I nodded and I felt his large hands cupping my rear before lifting me up. My lips found his as he carried me back to bed.

He reached for my legs, closing them together as he elevated them. I grinned when he began to place tender kisses on my ankles before he nipped at my toes. I stared into his eyes with a nervous pant, unaware of what he meant by taking it slow.

Usually, our love was passionate and raw but today he wished to take things slower. I did not mind it. It was a slight surprise and often when he did this, it meant he had something up his sleeve.

“What?” He chuckled.

“Nothing.”

“You’re being suspicious of me.”

“I’m not.”

He laughed and forced my legs open before allowing them to rest on each of his hips, “Hmm,” he hummed as he stared down at me.

“What?”

“You should be suspicious.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow at him and he eyed me momentarily before he caved and pulled out a small box from his pocket, “What is this?” I used my elbows to lift myself up.

“Open it, Princess.”

“Why? What is this?” Excitement overcame me as I sat up. He threw himself beside me and watched as I opened the velvety red box, “Namjoon,” I kept repeating into a delighted giggle.

“It’s nothing special.”

“It’s not our anniversary yet,” I eagerly opened and gasped suddenly as soon as I spotted the heart-shaped emerald necklace that was staring back at me, “Oh gosh, it’s beautiful.” I was spellbound, my gaze kept studying the rose gold chain and how captivatingly the rising sunlight reflected on the stone.

“You like it?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad.” His rich baritone voice explained how Valentine’s Day was coming up in a couple of days and he wanted to give me something thoughtful. “I know we can’t be like every other couple and celebrate. It’s fine that you are worried, baby, I respect it and appreciate that you keep an eye out for us but I did not want you to lose this day.”

“You’re so sweet.” He flashed a tender smile as I took his hand in mine, “I love you.”

➰

The ambiance of the restaurant was something that captured the romance of this night. I had never been the type of woman who enjoyed a trivia holiday but I had to admit since Ilsan became my partner, I wanted to experience love with him. And he was good at it too. Everything was planned out. From my outfit to the place we would celebrate our love.

I sat opposite him, studied how gently the candlelight beamed at his olive skin. Spellbound and utterly captivated by his striking features as I took in his beauty. Ilsan looked amazing in a suit, he chose a beautiful one that complimented my long dark dress. He was reading the menu of the French restaurant he had picked for the occasion. He began to correct his tie and I could not help but watch as his knuckles turned white by the grip, how merely moments ago that same hand was clutching my throat.

“What?” He asked without glancing away from the menu, “What are you thinking?” I let out a small giggle, caught red-handed in my perverse thoughts. “Do you know what you want?” He ripped his eyes from the leather-covered book and caught my gaze, “You haven’t looked.”

“No.”

He eyed me momentarily. Everything around us was practically nonexistent. The chatter from the other guests faded, the soft violins playing from the speakers died down until everything evaporated and it was just us there. Sitting across from one another with a champagne bottle, red rose petals were casually thrown on the white table, and candle lights between us.

I slid my hand over to him and he caught it. His thumb gently caressing the ring on my left finger, “I like this,” I began, remembering the fight I initiated earlier this morning, “I never apologized.”

“Don’t.”

“I should,” our eyes met again. “I wish I could be like you and forget about the heist.”

“You’re inexperienced. I get it, you’re nervous.” He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on the back of my hand, “You worry. I get it, Princess.”

Ilsan had been involved with a lot of robberies and knew how to act and think afterward. He was right. I was inexperienced. Smaller shops were my thing and I never truly worried about police knocking on my door for stealing a Dior bag. But the bank of Korea was something else. We had gotten away with 700 million KRW. Divided equally among us. Unfortunately, we had to cut our time short and flee for our lives but the amount was better than nothing.

“You’re right. I’m being too obsessive.”

“Relax a little.”

“I will,” I retrieved my hand and began to look at the menu, “From now I will relax.”

➰

Ilsan excused himself during the dessert. I watched him as he left for the bathroom. Sinking to the chair, I felt fulfilled by the French meals the chef so deliciously had prepared. The crepes on my plate kept staring at me but as much as I wanted to finish the beautifully decorated crisp pancakes with fresh fruits and powdered sugar, I could not force myself to overeat. So, instead, I drank my champagne glass finish.

I observed the other guests. Some were on a date like we were and others were alone. I caught a glimpse of a woman in a suit who was sitting alone two tables from me. My gaze fell on her plate and I could not help my mind from wandering. She had been there since we arrived yet her plate of snails was untouched. She must have sensed that someone was watching her because she stared back at me and I hastily ripped my eyes away. Just as I did, I noticed two men in suits both continuously studied me. My heart immediately sank. I tried to brush their stares away earlier as Ilsan suggested, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves but now that he had gone to the bathroom and most likely would be gone for longer to pay for the meal, I felt uncomfortable being on their radar.

Then as I attempted to calm my nerves, two Hawaiian police officers entered the restaurant and I froze in my seat. My heart sank again, this time faster until it had reached my stomach. The sight of the officers knocked my breath away and I hastily reached for my purse and coat. They glanced around and had not spotted me yet, so I speedily without hesitation and without drawing too much attention on myself walked to the register.

Ilsan waved me over as the hostess handed him his credit card, “We need to leave,” I sternly whispered.

He studied my face briefly before he scanned the restaurant, “Where?”

“Two men by the entrance.”

“You sure?” He eyed me and the expression on my face must have been enough for him. He took my hand and we rushed toward the back of the restaurant.

“Stop them!” Someone shouted and we began to run.

The employees in the kitchen were startled by our sudden appearance and halted all activities. Ilsan yelled at them to point at the back door and when no one took our situation seriously, he drew his gun. Scared into submission, a chef pointed behind himself and we rushed over to the exit.

➰

We made it back to the little condo we had rented with cash. Still, with the Professor’s plan in our minds, we acted accordingly. Leave as fast as we could. I began to pack all of the essentials. Clothes and such did not matter. The money bags and our safety was our only concern.

Ilsan paused and clutched my hands before we kissed each other. This was going to be our first separation. He reached for the bags of money and walked out of the condo.

We hid a beat-up Chevrolet Impala close to our condo, able to blend perfectly once we used it to escape. Ilsan went over to it. I had only a few minutes to throw off the authorities by destroying the condo. With the television on, I began to mess up the space we had called home and created some memories that would never leave my mind.

The mention of the heist made me halt. I stared at the television as the news anchor spoke about how the authorities had caught Seoul in Finland. My heart sank once more. I froze as my eyes were glued to the screen. Images of his arrest appeared and I whimpered at the sight of him. I did not notice that Ilsan had returned. His gentle touch eased me as I had unknowingly held my breath, We watched as the news anchor explained that one of the thieves known as Gwangju was found in a hotel room in Ankara. Jung Hoseok had a full-blown shootout with the police, unable to escape, trapped like a mouse in a maze, he shot into them well-knowing they would fire back.

“He took charge,” Ilsan whispered as he gently caressed my back. Tears began to blur my vision as the realization of losing another one of us set in, “Baby?” Ilsan said until he shook me slightly, “We don’t have time for you to break down,” he reminded, “Let’s go.”

“Yes, yes,” I murmured as I wiped away the tears.

However, the mention of the assigned cities Ilsan and I had roamed in the condo making both of us stop once more and draw our attention back on the screen. The news anchor began to explain our appearance based on the hostages’ descriptions. Soon, police sketches appeared on the screen. Ilsan and I froze as we studied the candidly accurate portraits of us. Right down to his dimples and my hairstyle the day of the heist. Still, they did not know our identities.

“Thank God,” Ilsan hissed as he took my hand and guided me out of the condo.

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yandere-sins · 4 years

Note

I was wondering if I could request 45 and 49 for Felix H. Fraldarius? The way you write about him is amazing and charming thanks for your hard work (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Thank you so much! I am glad you enjoy my writing of him :D

“If you ask me nicely, I can fulfill your wish.” & “I haven’t met a human like you in a while… How interesting.”

»»——————— ♡ ————————«

The ruins were so old, you thought they’d collapse any second now, just because you were breathing. Of course, you were thankful that they were keeping up the mountain that surrounded you, leading you towards the actual ruins which long collapsed down into the mountain, completely hollow after so many centuries of existing. But even if you fretted to find your untimely demise under a fallen rock, you still had to venture on. There was a quest to finish.

“Return,” you heard an echoing voice grumble through the old tunnel, and it didn’t leave you unaffected, the hairs on the back of your neck standing. You knew you weren’t welcome, but still, even if the old ghosts didn’t want you here, you’d have to seek them out for their advice. As you were told by the oracles, there would be hundreds of lost souls waiting for you at the end of this path, but only the one you needed would appear before you.

This caused a mix of anxiety and expectancy to bubble in your stomach. You had read so much about the old legends of the Garreg Mach Ruins, the heroes and their enemies, the great battles, and no losses on their side. If anyone could help you with the war raging outside of these old ruins, then those ghosts of the ancient times.

It was prettier than you expected. Sure, overgrown and worn down by time and weather, but with the sun breaking through the hole in the top of the mountain, it had a nostalgic feel to it. Birds had made their nests on top of pillars, and the ground had moved away for water, little fish swimming beneath your feet as you crossed a toppled over wall that worked like a bridge. Had you not known where you were, this would have been a beautiful ruin to explore.

“Leave. You don’t belong here,” a disembodied voice called out to you again, and all you really could do was nod. You didn’t belong here, but you had a reason to be here. “I seek help,” you answered it, loudly, though you flinched as some debris fell down, shaken by the vibrations of your voice. Turning, you took a few steps backwards as you watched it, making sure there wasn’t a boulder coming down to squeeze you under it, when suddenly, you felt a cold resistance in your back.

For a moment only, you thought it was a pillar or anything else of the building around you, when your survival instinct kicked in, and you swirled around, hand on your sword. But before you could pull it, you had been conquered with a sharp blade pointing at your throat, making you afraid to gulp as it would have cut you with just the tiniest bit of change in your skin.

Defeated, you slowly lifted your hands, eyes focusing on your opponent rather than the deadly weapon at the most vulnerable spot on your body. You’d have lied if you said that the appearance before you wasn’t scary as he was. The coats and furs he wore showed what kind of high position he must have had when he was still alive, but they hung from his seemingly non-existent body, only reminding people of what kind of build he must have had.

And yet, you recognized the emblems on his jacket, the black hair, the colors he wore. You recognized him as one of the greatest sword-fighters to ever exist. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, a master of the blade, and even more so, a dedicated, high-ranking soldier and nobleman.

His face was ashen white, but in stark contrast to the dirty and ripped clothes on his body, it still seemed human enough to not be unpleasant to look at. It was even... a little attractive, you admitted to yourself, though his glare was as cold and unwelcoming as it could be. “You were warned,” he spoke, no echo this time, designated just for your ears. “Do you have a deathwish?”

The ghost said it so nonchalantly, it was almost like him asking you what kind of dinner you wanted, but his words were no less terrifying than his appearance himself. Showing him your hands, he didn’t even glance at them, never stopping to pin you with his eyes even if you tried your best to show you weren’t out to hurt him. When you took a step back, he matched your stance immediately, and you were sure now that he wasn’t just any kind of guard or soldier.

While you couldn’t say you were trained or maybe even exceptionally skilled, after holding up your own sword for so long, you knew a fine enemy when he approached. Back in his day, this man must have scared the living shit out of his opponents, just like he did it now with you. But you couldn’t allow yourself to falter, you had come so far!

“I inquire your help,” you mumbled, eyes switching from his stiff glare to his blade and back again. “Outside, war rages and innocent people die by the minute.”

“So you came here for help? What idiot would search for help from ghosts?”

You. You were the idiot.

“You can’t help me,” you admitted, looking along the countless reflection in the - strangely enough, perfectly clean - steel. “But you can train me to help myself.”

He didn’t expect that, as you saw his expression change to surprise for all of a second. Even if his stance stayed firm, always on target, he did allow himself to click his tongue, and finally, the blade lowered, in a way, it would have simply cut you open had it touched you. “What a nuisance. You think we’ll just accept requests of any kind of person who comes here to inquire about us? People hear about our resting place all the time and come for all kinds of shit, like their marriage problems. I have nothing to teach you.”

He turned, ready to leave you and your problems behind as if it didn’t concern him whether someone died or not. But you, for you, it was a big concern, and your chance couldn’t be wasted just because your ghost was moody and maybe an asshole. “Then why did you appear?”

He let out a disgruntled huff, shrugging with his back still turned. But at least he stopped walking, glaring back over his shoulder. “Someone had to.”

“Then please!” you pleaded, taking a step forward. Felix didn’t like it, turning halfway as if you were going to jump him, and he had to defend himself. “Please, help me too! I’m not trained and I can’t handle the sword like you do. But I can sit and watch, and train until I am too exhausted to stand!”

A moment of silence fell over you two, except for the birds chirping in the distance. Had you said too much? Too little? Where you supposed to speak up again? Beg him some more? You wanted to open your mouth, but you were quick to shut up when he turned back to you, his expression even more severe than seconds ago.

“I haven’t met a human like you in a while… How interesting.”

In a matter of a few steps, he was in front of you again, closer than ever before. Without the sword keeping some distance, you had to admit he reeked of what must be old fabric and furs, mixed with dirt or... other substances. Rot and decay of years you’d never be able to grasp on. But it was just another test you told yourself, and you’d not fail right in the beginning. “Show me what you got,” he ordered, moving aside to give away the whole platform you were on; stone that must have belonged to a great monument back in the days.

You weren’t sure what to do, but you unsheathed your sword, took the only stance you knew of, and swung, trying to show what you were made of. You didn’t even land the first air blow, when you already felt a shove at your elbow. The touch was cold and unforgiving harsh, making you stumble from the suddenness. “Higher,” he instructed, and while you felt the need to complain about your treatment, you swallowed your sour mood in favor of following the ghost’s advice.

Immediately, you felt relief in your shoulder. It was so different, the result was an instant gratification. But while you wanted to share your joyful conclusion, you were immediately bombarded with more shoves, correcting almost everything. “Goddess, you suck.”

“T-Thanks,” you bit your lip, swallowing the pride you were not supposed to have if you wanted his attention, fearing he’d let you down the moment you showed some resistance.

Another shove.

“Have you thought about how to repay my kindness.”

“Re... Repay?!” you quaked as you flinched from the push in the back of your ribs. “Everything comes at a price, don’t tell me you forgot.”

He was in front of you, arms crossed and anger in his expression, the moment you hesitated to answer. You did forget, or more like, you didn’t hear the oracle scream it after you as you set out on your quest. “Of course, I did not forget.”

“Hm,” he snorted. “So, what to do I get?”

“What do you want?” you mumbled, making some more swift attacks under his strict eyes and icy touches. “Are you really going to give me what I want?” he asked, and you nodded - slowly. If it meant that you’d be able to make a change in the war outside, save many more lives than he could ever want, then sure, what kind of promise could it be? “Then I want you,” he hummed into your ear, and your body didn’t know what to do first - jump to the side or have your cheeks fill with heat.

“Don’t get full of yourself now,” he continued, passing you by as if nothing happened. “If I train you, you’ll become as strong as I am, and then...” Turning towards you, the same, shining silver sword appeared in his hands. “You will be my training partner, finally someone worthy to fight.”

Taking his own stance, you were almost afraid to imitate him, but it was as good of a lesson as any. “Is it a deal?” Felix asked, and you agreed with another nod. “That won’t do.” His stance loosened, a surreal experience to see knowing how correct and serious he was always. “If you ask me nicely, I can fulfill your wish. And only then.”

You gulped. Even if the sword wasn’t at your throat now, you felt like it was a throat-cutting decision to make. “If I become your training partner--”

“--it will be forever,” he finished your sentence. “Mine, and mine alone.”

Both of you took on your fighting stance again, his sword shining in the sun rays from above. Felix wasn’t one to give you a chance to think about things for too long, and as you later found out, it would be the skill that would keep you alive the longest. There was no choice to make, only responsibility and virtue, and as he dashed towards you, you knew your fate was sealed, accepting it with a quiet, "Okay," to yourself, rather than doing as he told you.

But you’d be alive long enough to win the war you so desired to end. Even if it meant that he’d come for you when the time was over, to take what he made out of you. What belonged to him, rightfully.

And would haunt you forever.

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petalshields · 3 years

Photo

[ MINA EL HAMMANI, SHE/HER, DEMIGIRL ] — [ KAIA DEMIR-ZERHOUNI ] is a child of [ DEMETER ] with the power of [ FLORAL HEALING & PLANT COMMUNICATION ] . they were born in [ 1996 ] and have been in nemean lion since [ 2019 ] . with the change, they [ ARE TRAINING IN ] the [ MEDICAL ] role which makes sense since they’re usually [ NOT TALKING AND TENDING TO HER GARDEN IN HER ROOM ] . if you’d like to meet them try the [ SUN ] building . @nlupdates

hello friends! its ya girl garnet and this is my newest baby. like this and i will not only find u...i will plot WITH u (threat).

Kaia’s pinterest is here!

BIOGRAPHY!

( near drowning tw, death tw )

Mystery shrouds the exact circumstances of Kaia’s birth, but there was no denying that her father was Ilyass Zerhouni. His tryst with Demeter lasted through the winter: a season of mourning for the goddess of harvest. Their romance extinguished in March, timed with the thaw into spring, and Demeter left Ilyass without a trace of her presence in his life. Ilyass did some mourning of his own before, as he always had, continuing his life.

However, Ilyass saw Demeter one final time when she revealed she gave birth to his child. The child was born in November, and she urged him to protect her from supernatural forces, even gods themselves. Demeter knew the pain that came with losing a child.

Ilyass named the baby girl Kaia: Norwegian variant of Kaja, the diminutive form of Greek Katherine. Tracing this history, the name Kaia is intertwined with two meanings: ‘pure’ and ‘tortured.’

Born in sweltering Los Angeles, Kaia wasn’t shielded from her godly heritage. Ilyass called her his ‘miracle baby’ but he didn’t anticipate the degree. There were no parenting books on what to do when his child fell off her bike but flowers sticking out of her gashed knees. This led the man to be overly protective of her, to ensure that she did not draw attention to herself by harming herself or provoking others to harm her. He attempted to round all the sharp corners of Kaia’s life for her own protection, but for the most part, Kaia grew up happy.

Her affinity for plants stemmed from her ability to communicate with them. Their voices weren’t something she could ignore. Trees sang eerie songs as they swayed in the breeze, branches scratching against heaven, and a chorus of grass blades gossiped whenever they were stepped on ( blows kiss to the sky: for rowan ). It made it difficult for her to sleep sometimes, their voices were so constant, but Kaia learned how to tune out the plants and filter their thoughts from her own.

NEAR DROWNING TW: At age seven, Kaia contacted meningitis after being left unattended in the pool by a babysitter. Thankfully, she recovered quickly, but she suffered from moderate hearing loss. This incident only deepened Ilyass’s protectiveness. His later wife, Yaren Demir, was raising a demigod child of her own and shared the desire to shield their daughters. As a blended family, Yaren and Kaia’s new step-sister Sila acclimated to Kaia by learning American Sign Language. Though hearing aids lessen the severity of hearing loss, Kaia prefers ASL to verbal communication. ( note: she has difficulty holding a conversation one-on-one without them, and being in a crowd with them causes her a lot of anxiety. )

Adolescence was, for lack of a better word, an adjustment. Kaia prided herself on being mysterious, well-behaved, and reserved, but she began to push against the concrete boundaries set by her parents. Specifically, her competitive nature drew her to sports, which her parents staunchly disapproved of. The more Kaia wanted to expand, the more that her parents increased their restrictions. She took matters into her own hands when she was seventeen. Enticed by promises made by her then-boyfriend, Kaia ran away with him.

What could go wrong? Kaia’s not naïve; she knew that being bested by your emotions was never the correct move, but he was her first love and that love was the poison she’d inject into herself, over and over. There were red flags that the relationship wasn’t the healthiest, but, like any romantic, she ignored them all. Until it almost killed her 🤪

DEATH TW/CAR ACCIDENT TW: Almost is the key word. If she were mortal, she would have died. The boyfriend was drinking and driving, and he swerved off the road while Kaia tried to coax him into letting her drive. She doesn’t remember much of what followed. Blinding white, the sound of her voice shrill as she screamed for him to help her. The slam of the car door as he crawled out from the wreckage, a black figure bleeding into the night. The tree whispering, life, life, life, as flowers broke out of the gashes, blooming along the split skin. After fading in and out of consciousness, Kaia healed enough to gain strength to crawl out of the vehicle’s skeleton and stumbled through the surrounding woods.

Too ashamed to return home, Kaia found solace in an abandoned greenhouse. As a token from her mother, goddess of harvest after all, Kaia was fed throughout her time “missing,” surrounded by plentiful edible plants that yearned for her to eat them. She grew used to her own solitude, the simplicity of her life in the woods, but her own call out to reconnect with her sister caused her to punch her number into her phone. Soon enough, Sila found Kaia and convinced her to accompany her to a strange place she’s only heard about in passing: NEMEAN LION.

Kaia’s been on campus for two years, and the constant chatter and people and all else that comes with their godly heritage are thoroughly tolerated; she is still the prideful girl she once was, but her trauma caused her to have heightened suspicions of those around her, and she’s now more difficult to get close to. Beneath her new armor, there’s still a soft core, most evident when she’s volunteering at the infirmary or trailing behind her sister or smiling at a plant ( weird vibes but ok ).

WANTED CONNECTIONS!

FRIENDS/A BEST FRIEND: PLEASE SOMEONE GET THIS BITCH SOME MILK!! Or rather the ability to build an attachment to someone that’s not her sister.

ENEMIES: Kaia may not express it all the time, but she does hold grudges and she’s very spiteful. I think this would be interesting because this is a bit of a shadow-self that she never got to explore in her youth, but she’s more willing to lean into it now because, in her mind, everyone sucks and should not be trusted. We can develop in the DMs!

PEOPLE WHO HELPED HER WHILE SHE LIVED IN THE GREENHOUSE: in my mind? while she was "missing” there was a little gaggle of people who brought her essentials in exchange for her helping them out somehow. Maybe she was their healer, or maybe she posed as a distraction for them to do some shady shit. either way, this relationship was mutually beneficial!

OPPOSITES ATTRACT: throw her your sunshine-y muses but she can be a little finicky so this may be a bit hit or miss SKJSKFJ. However I think that it’d be cool to have a muse who doesn’t flinch from her intensity sometimes, or bounces off of it. idk fam i just think it’d be Neat.

INJURED/HEALER: Someone who she always treats at the infirmary? I imagine that she’s gotten a hold of her powers enough that she’s able to heal others on command. She will always cluck her tongue and shake her head and, if they’re close enough, try to talk to this person. This takes a lot of ironing out because it really depends on where their relationship stands but we can make this work

DEMETER SIBLINGS: Kaia feels very much indebted to her mother for keeping her alive while she was in the greenhouse, so! She has a soft spot for all the Demeter siblings because she views them as being all a part of her, in some way, so throw her more family!

COMBAT BUDDIES: ( kaia 2 me: buddies is a strong wor- ) no but her having people to train with. Kaia isn’t about killing people ( unless you’re her ex boyfriend ahahaha that’s to unpack later ) but ! she is about learning to protect herself and wanting to do so with the utmost competency. Therefore she throws herself into combat training, and it’s a way for her to work out a lot of the pent up aggression that she has from not processing a lot of the things that have happened to her.

HOOKUPS: absolutely no strings. With the exception of Taylor, Kaia isn’t the relationship type I’m afraid and isn’t emotionally available, but she still has needs!

OTHER TREE HUGGERS: pretty explanatory, stole this from rowan. A friend of trees is a friend to Kaia.

ANYTHING! LET’S MF GO I’m really down for also filling yr plot needs!

#me cackling at this lenght lKJSLFJSLFKJ #nlintro #near drowning tw #death tw #car accident tw

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years

Text

Hell to Pay: Chapter Twenty-Six

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: trigger warning for character death, implied past sexual abuse, implied self harm, excessive use of the work ‘fuck’

Amara came home to an empty house. Her stress must have shown, because Cin pressed up behind her as she read Lev’s note. She patted his curls absently when he bit her shoulder, and sighed softly. “I don’t think he’s okay.”

“He smells like baby,” Cin observed.

Amara snorted. “He lives with a baby, Cináed. What did you expect.”

Cin bit down harder, and then licked the puncture wounds. “It’s a nice smell,” Cin eventually said. “Calming.”

“Softie,” Amara accused. “I don’t know why anyone’s afraid of you.”

He bared his teeth at her, but when she twisted to tug on his curls, he was quick to bury his face in her neck, purring. “Give him some time,” Cin muttered against her neck. “I wander. He might want to.”

Amara grumbled. “Stop talking sense. This is a senseless house. No sense allowed.”

Cin snorted, pulling away. “Okay.”

Still. As time inched by, Amara grew more and more uneasy. She caved after two hours of waiting, and called up Raziel. The angel barely had the chance to confirm Lev wasn’t there before she hung up. Cin watched her pace silently.

The next person she called picked up quickly. “Is Lev there?” She demanded instead of a hello.

“No, he’s not. What’s wrong?” Nate replied.

She considered hanging up on him, but knowing Nate, he would just call her right back. “He went for a walk, didn’t say where. I’m being paranoid probably, I just wanted to know where he was. It’s just a bad feeling, that’s all.”

Nate paused. “Do you need me come help you find him?”

After chewing her lip for a few seconds, Amara said, “No. Bay’s ‘bout ready to pop. You should be with your mate. I’ll- I’ll call Nik, see if Lev went home. He was really mopey while he was here, he probably missed them.” She forced her tone to be light and teasing as she added, “Give Bay a big old smooch from me.”

“Are you sure?” Nate said after another moment of hesitation. “I can help for a few hours.”

“Nah. I’ve got Cin, I’ll go bug Nik, we’ll drag Cameron out by his ear if we have to. Focus on your mate. I’m sure he’s grouchy enough I took your attention away from him this long already.” She closed her eyes. “But thank you, Nate. I’ll keep you updated. Promise.”

Again Nate hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive as one of Bay’s pregnancy tests.”

Nate sighed. “I’m hanging up now. Good luck.”

“Bye, Nate.” Amara hung up, and chewed on her phone case while she stared at the floor.

“Are you going to actually call?” Cin asked from the couch.

“I’m still debating,” Amara groused, before dialing. “Cameron? Is Lev there?”

---

Nik was still slumped at the kitchen table nursing a tequila sunrise when Cameron reached for his freshly cleaned phone half a second before it even started ringing. He didn’t even look up from his cleaning the knives when he instantly said, “Where is he?”

Nik blinked and blinked again, looking down at his drink and then back at Cameron. “How- what? Did you know that was going to ring? Is Lev okay?”

Cameron, of course, ignored him and listened to whoever it was that decided to call at this forsaken hour. “You left him alone? Now?” Cameron said. “You know as well as I do that he’s about as dangerous as a newborn. I knew you were annoying, but I hadn’t realized you were an idiot.”

Nik sat up when Cameron’s mouth ticked. “So much for that magic, hm?” Cameron got up from the table and correctly assumed Nik would follow as he said, “Oh, I can do both at the same time, Amara. Human blood does do that.”

Amara?

“What’s she saying?”

Cameron just hung up and tossed him the phone without looking back at him. “She lost Lev,” he said, neutrally. “So I’m getting healed enough to make up for her incompetence. I’m still too injured right now.”

Nik instantly looked down at the phone and called her number. She answered immediately and said, “You’re a dick.”

“Don’t I know it,” Nik said. “What’s going on.”

“Lev left me a note, saying he went for a walk. But I don’t know how long he’s been gone.”

Nik closed his eyes and sighed. It was too early for this. It was too damned early. No wonder Cameron sent Eden away. Maybe he really wasn’t capable of protecting her. “Does… your magic say anything?” he asked. “You know that… thing you can do?”

“I have a bad feeling. It’s probably me being paranoid.”

Anxiety shot through Nik’s stomach when Cameron turned his head just enough to say, “You’re not being paranoid.”

“Cam said you’re not being paranoid, Mar.”

“Does Cameron want me to meet you there, or does he want to come meet me?”

Cameron said, “I’m not going to show up to that squallor you call an apartment, and I need to get healed. It’ll save time to just come here.”

“Did you catch that?” Nik asked her.

“He’s being a bitch again. Yes, I can hear him.”

“You make it sound like it ever stops,” Nik said, sighing. “How long you going to be?”

“Depends on if I crash my motorcycle on the way there or not,” Amara said. “The roads are getting icy.”

“Okay,” Nik said. “Just. Be careful, Mar. Can’t be worrying about you too.”

“No, I refuse,” Amara said, before promptly hanging up on him.

Nik sighed bitterly and shoved the phone into his pocket. But it promptly rung again. It was Lev’s cell but Cameron said, “Give me the phone.”

Nik blinked, and handed it over before he could think of an argument to that clipped tone. Cameron held it to his ear, back spasming as he descended the stairs. “Hello?” he said, in a tight voice.

“Lev?” Nik asked, leaning closer.

“Of course I’m still alive,” Cameron said. “It’s hard to kill me.”

“Not Lev.”

Cameron ignored him. “I see you enjoy my toys,” Cameron said, coolly. He paused, listening to whatever it was Nik assumed Destris was saying. “You never did like sharing,” Cameron said. “Don’t be daft, love is useless. He’s been here because he enjoys my cock in his ass. No more, no less.”

A chill ran down Nik’s spine and it had nothing to do with the cool air around them as they stopped in front of Sazra’s room. Cameron kept talking to Destris while he sat down silently on the cot, arms tightening as he braced himself for Sazra’s healing. “You are not the only one who uses my services, Des. As you know, I made my living sucking cock.”

Sazra’s face closed completely as she pulled Cam back to sink her claws into his skin. Cameron jolted, muscles tightening. He damn near dropped the phone as he let himself be baited by whatever it was his sadistic brother was saying. Nik said, “Okay, that’s enough.” He grabbed the phone from him and held it to his ear. “What the hell is wrong with you? Cameron is your brother.”

Destris’ laugh made Nik halt in place. He ground his teeth when Destris smoothly said, “He isn’t my brother. He’s a bastard. I know you angels are soft hearted, Nikolas, but to us demons, bastards are property. Nothing more. Nothing less and if I want to fuck someone, then I damn well will.”

“Where’s Lev?” Nik said. “I know you know, you sick fuck.”

Destris hummed and Cameron flicked a blank, pain laced stare his way. “Stop talking, Nik. He’s not going to tell you, alright? He called to taunt.”

He could hear Destris click his tongue over the line. “He never did have a sense of humor. Whatever do you see in him?” Destris asked. “I can’t believe you actually love him. It’s just an infatuation, you know that right? Do you see yourself in a century, with a little family of your own. With him as your husband?” Destris was laughing so hard. “Gods. I feel sorry for you. Thinking that Cameron is capable of something like that. Did your pet angel think that too? Was he so mooney eyed for Cameron that he completely overlooked the fact that Cameron is a whore and a killer who has already killed a previous lover? Who says you or Levant won’t be next?”

Nik didn’t even allow the blink, even when Cameron was staring him dead in the eye, not saying a damn word, either. Nik just hung up the phone and shoved it into his pocket. He picked at a bracelet, turning his attention to Sazra. “Hurry the fuck up.”

----

Amara stomped up the front steps, huffing. Why the fuck Cameron decided to live in an icy, wintery wasteland was beyond her. She damn near wrapped her cycle around a fucking tree twice on the way here.

“You’re not fucking poetic, asshole,” she muttered to herself, shoving the door open.

Not five steps inside a sentry jumped her, but that was to be expected. She slid to the side, shoving her elbow against the sentry’s back as she hooked a foot around his ankle. The second he hit the floor she dropped her weight on him, shoving a dagger against the base of his skull.

“I’m not in the fucking mood to play games,” she hissed. “Don’t push me.”

Footsteps announced Cameron and Nik’s presence, but she didn’t look up, even when Cameron said, “Took you long enough to get here.”

For a long moment, she wrestled with an abrupt impulse to shove the blade home anyway, but she leashed it, tucking that thought away for later, and stood. “You look like shit, Cameron. You sure you’re up for this?” For once, she wasn’t joking around, she wanted an honest assessment.

“The car’s already going. Get in it,” Cameron said, completely ignoring her demanding question.

She set her jaw, trying not to tense. “Guess that answers my question on if you wanted me to follow on my bike,” she muttered, before flicking Nik a look. “I’m assuming you’ve already claimed shotgun?”

“Yep,” Nik said shortly.

“Fucking fabulous,” Amara grumbled. She looked down at the sentry she’d pinned to the floor, and deep violet eyes met her gaze. The hatred there didn’t bother her. She just turned on her heel and stalking out the door. “You’re lucky I like you, Nik.” She sheathed her knife as she headed back outside.

Nik rolled the windows down as soon as he was in the car. Amara slid in the backseat after a moment of hesitation (and, admittedly, a Look from Cameron), but it took another look to get her to put on her seatbelt.

“Where the fuck are we looking first?” Amara demanded.

Cameron didn’t even answer, instead tapping away at his phone, and then fiddling with the GPS installed in his car. Rich motherfucker.

The silence was unbearable, but Amara knew better than to try to talk. Nik wasn’t saying a damn word, which Amara assumed meant he was working himself into a panic, as if that would fucking help anything. All he did was stare out the window and pick at his bracelets.

“Hey,” she said sharply, kicking the back of Nik’s seat. When he didn’t even glance back at her, just kept plucking at the bracelets on his wrists, she scooted forward, ignoring Cameron’s dirty look, and smacked Nik’s shoulder to get his attention. Anything to get him to fucking stop. She dug around in her pockets until she found what she was looking for. “I forgot to tell you, but you left this at my house. A-fucking-gain.” She dropped a guitar pick in Nik’s hand, and settled back with a huff.

It worked, at least. Nik still didn’t say anything, but he went to running his thumb over the pick instead of picking at his bracelets.

She glared out the window as the streets slowly became familiar again. Too familiar. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said, straightening. “That’s not-” She stared at the house at the end of the cul-de-sac they were approaching. “Lev’s not there, but that’s a fucking low blow.”

Cameron pulled to a stop outside Remiel’s abandoned house anyway. Amara thumped the headrest of his seat.

“You know he’s not there,” she said, sharply. Anxiety roiled somewhere behind her ribcage, an awful feeling she couldn’t shake. “Why the fuck did you stop?”

He shot her a look before pulling his phone out.

Not a second later, it began to ring.

---

Cameron had his phone in his hand and had to his ear not even before it had a chance to get to it’s first ring. He hadn’t even looked at the caller ID before saying, “Where are you.”

He barely heard the faint, “Cam- Cameron? I made a mistake.”

“Where. Are. You,” Cameron said, putting his car in reverse and starting to drive. “I’ll come get you.”

“Back at my house,” he said, too quietly. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“What the fuck is he doing back at that house,” Amara said.

Nik’s only reaction was the tightening of his jaw, but Cameron just blatantly ignored Amara while he started for Lev’s address. “Keep talking,” Cameron told him. “We’ll deal with your bad choices later, but first that requires you in my house.”

Lev mumbled, “I want to come home. Can I come home?”

“Of course you can,” Cameron said, tightly. “Who else is going to keep Nik busy.” Lev just gave him a weak laugh, but fell far too quiet for Cameron’s taste. “I said to keep talking,” Cameron said. “Do as you’re told.”

It was a few seconds before Lev said, “I wanted to sell the house.”

“And you still can,” Cameron said, coldly, blowing every stop sign and light on the way. “I’m sure there’s some needy angel that needs a small house with cramped rooms somewhere. Blood stains come out.”

Lev gave another small laugh. “Not everyone needs to live in a mansion, Cameron,” Lev said.

“That’s because not everyone has decent taste,” Cameron said, flippantly. “Some are too poor to afford decent housing. Which is where you come in.”

Lev tried for a teasing tone. “Are you mocking my need to take care of everyone?”

“I don’t know,” Cameron said. “Am I?”

Lev’s house came into view. Cameron just pulled the car into the yard and as close to the door as possible. Nik’s face paled, but he said nothing. Cameron said into the phone, “We’re here. Keep talking.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know,” Cameron said, getting out of the car, walking past the thick trail of golden blood soaking into the light snow covered grass. The midafternoon sun made it reflect and glimmer in the daylight. Cameron ignored the rotting honey smell burning through his nose and shouldered past the wide open door on the front porch.

Nik’s breath was tight and shallow behind him; Amara was on his heel. Cameron weaved through the small space, following the bloody path to Lev curled into himself, holding the phone. Amara was already peeling out of her leather jacket and pulling her black tank top over her head and shoved it into Cameron’s extended hand. “Use that.”

Cameron was already moving and looking Lev over, looking for where it was bleeding most. Lev’s eyes opened slowly and he stared up at Cameron. “That you?” he mumbled.

“I told you to keep talking,” Cameron said, flatly, placing the shirt on Lev’s still bleeding stomach.

His eyes closed again. “That's you.”

Cameron could feel Amara staring at Lev before shifting her gaze to him. “I don’t have angel healing,” she said.

“No shit,” Cameron said, over Lev’s outcry as he scooped him up. He ignored the splitting pain in his back. “The only kind of useful you are is being a pain in my ass. We’re going to an actual healer. Nik- drive.” He was moving past them both, down the front porch and into the awaiting back seat. When Amara tried moving to the backseat with them, Cameron bit out, “Up front.” He didn’t give her the option to argue and closed the door before she could climb in anyway.

“Drive,” she said, to Nik, before turning in her seat to look back at them. At Lev. “What the fuck did he do to you?”

“Amara,” Nik said, tightly enough it was a warning drawn taut. “That’s enough.”

Cameron wouldn’t have been surprised if Nik kicked her out of the car if she pushed further. Amara just turned around in her seat sharply and buckled up, looking back at Lev. “I’m assuming we’re going to see Ash?”

“You assume right,” Nik said, flicking his dark eyes into the rearview mirror at them. “He’s not that arrogant for no reason.”

Amara pulled out her phone, texting, who Cameron assumed was the arrogant angel himself. Amara relayed Ash’s message and Nik drove even faster, going white knuckled at the wheel.

“I told you to speak,” Cameron said, tugging at Lev’s hair sharply. “You want to make me happy? Do as you’re told.”

Lev was trying to focus on Cameron’s face, but was failing at it. He was more staring through Cameron, instead. Cameron ignored the twisting feeling cutting through his chest, when Lev said, “I’m scared.”

He knew that already. He could almost taste it. It was palpable.

“I didn’t- say anything to him,” Lev said. Cameron didn’t catch what Lev said when Lev started trailing off. But he did catch Eden’s name. That only confirmed his suspicions, but he shoved that into a box and wasn’t planning on thinking about it again when Lev’s bloody hand covered Cameron’s still applying pressure on Lev’s stomach. “I am- I was...”

“Keep. Talking.”

“Cam,” Nik said, sharply.

He ignored him, pressing his hand against Lev’s abdomen and wiped the shiny blood from Lev’s lip. Nik swung into the drive, going through the grass to the damned front steps, but Lev gave a little sigh, hand going limp and Cameron said, “It’s too late.”

Amara whipped around. “The fuck it is,” she snarled.

Cameron growled low in his throat, but his peripheral vision caught a flash of the annoying ginger stalking to the car. He pushed the door open in time for Ash to swing it open further and climb in with them. Ash’s red hair was pulled back from his face in a tight bun, green eyes flashing and glowing bright.

There was no trace of the insufferable smirk on Ash’s face as he quickly and efficiently assessed Lev’s body, fingers tracing down Lev, looking at all the wounds. He could sense Ash’s magic trying to find some shred of life- of Lev in Lev’s broken and shredded body.

Blood seeped down Ash’s lip, even if his efforts were futile at best. Ash wiped his lip, streaking blood across his cheek as he tried pressing his magic into Lev harder. The car was getting hot enough that Ash’s hair was damn near limp with sweat. “Damn it,” Ash swore under his breath.

“Ash,” Nik said, tiredly.

“No,” Ash said.

“If he thinks he can do it, let him,” Amara snapped.

“He can’t,” Nik shot back, nails digging into the seats. “It’ll just kill him too.” He looked back at Ash. “You selfish bastard, stop it.” When Amara snarled at Nik, Nik cut her a dark look. “Why didn’t you stop him, huh? You’re so intent on letting Ash kill himself to bring Lev back. Why didn’t you stop Lev from leaving.”

“I didn’t know he was going to leave,” Amara yelled at Nik, before turning back to Ash. “Ash, just fucking stop. He’s gone.”

tagging: @idreamonpaper @incandescent-creativity @livvywrites @halstudies @alittleyellowdinosaur

#:)#ch: cameron #ch: nik #cameron and nik and lev #hell to pay #writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #amwriting #my writing #original work

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jinmukangwrites · 5 years

Text

Reflex

Prompt

Last queued fic before I return! Rejoice! Can't wait to be back!!!

Kudos to @spacemalarkey for the idea that Hyrule and Wild are bff's and credit to them for the nicknames they call each other. Those two boys are definitely two peas in a pod. Love you Linni 💛

-o-o-o-o-

It doesn't happen all the time. Wild is very observant and is constantly aware of everything all the time, even while sleeping. He can wake to the smallest noise and instantly process what's going on and who stepped on that twig or what touched his leg. He can usually stop himself from lunging for his sword or swinging his fist. He gets better at it too after Calamity Ganon is defeated and he learns to relax and live at the castle.

When he joins the other heroes on a journey he gets bad at it again. For the first week of traveling he had to constantly chant in his head that no one there will attack him, that he can sleep, that he can turn his back, and if they snuck up on him it isn't because of an intent to kill, just an intent to speak, to communicate, to bond. He gets used to it. He trusts them. It isn't a problem.

Until it is a problem.

They've been traveling without stopping for about two days now and it's killing everyone's self control. They don't know where they are or where they're heading and everyone just wants to sleep, but there's something following them. Multiple somethings. Every time they think they're safe a monster will jump out and commence battle and more monsters will keep arriving until they decide to retreat.

Exhausted. Wild has ever been this exhausted.

The trees all look the same and he wonders if they've even traveled at all in the last hour. And to think he had thought his Hyrule was the big one… and he knows this one isn't his. It's probably no one's. It's probably not even Hyrule at all for what they know. He wishes they could stop and rest, just for ten minutes, and it's not usually like him to wish that. Sky would, Wind would, Four sometimes, and Legend would be next. Not Wild. All he has ever known was the trail, the next move, how many hours it would take to get to the next campfire.

Never before has he just wanted to sleep instead of travel.

There's a constant anxiety sitting at the back of his skull and pulling at his eyebrows. His mouth is dry and his skin feels clammy. Miserable. He's miserable.

Yet, he doesn't complain, because he can see that everyone else are just as miserable. Time has bags under his eyes, Four's gaze is lax and faraway, Sky looks a hair's breadth away from collapsing, Warrior doesn't seem to care anymore about not dragging his feet, Hyrule has sweat dripping off his chin, Legend's face is red from the sun, Wind has to be dragged along by Twilight's hand lest he falls behind. He won't complain. He won't.

He won't...

They travel in silence, walking like ReDead's to nowhere, stumbling and staring ahead towards nothing. They would continue to do that too, but Wind suddenly faints.

"Shit," Twilight curses and with arms shaking from exhaustion, he grabs Wind before his body can hit the ground. He lowers the youngest to the ground and everyone starts forward to check if Wind is okay.

He's not. None of them are.

"He's dehydrated," Warrior says as he kneels down next to Wind and Twilight, "and the heat…"

"Will a fairy help?" Time asks and Warrior glares up at him.

"Sleep will. Water. Rest."

Time makes a very familiar face and Wild resists groaning before he turns away and leans against a tree. He glares into the forest, waiting for some sort of monster to jump out at them again.

"Maybe we put enough distance for a short break," Twilight suggests.

"Or we'll let the monsters come right to us once again," Time growls.

Wild sighs, he can hardly keep his eyes open.

"At this point, it's either the monsters or exhaustion that kills us," Legend says under his breath, but everyone hears it. An uneasy silence falls on the group as that happy bit of information settles over them like a moth eaten wool blanket.

"Ten minutes…" Time finally says, "we stay here for ten minutes and then we're going again. Try to wake him up… carrying him will waste energy."

-o-o-o-o-

Wind thankfully wakes back up a couple minutes later. He gratefully takes some water and just lays on the ground, eyes half lidded as the rest of the group take turns taking one minute naps and keeping watch. Every snap of a twig sets Wild on edge and he finds he can't sleep at all despite the bone tiredness consuming his every thought.

He leans against a tree with his limbs limp. A small black bug crawls along his his pants and he just stares at it, trying to focus on something other than the leaves rustling wrong or the squirrel that keeps throwing nuts and pebbles on the ground. Something simple. Something that can't be mistaken as evil.

He doesn't realize how far he goes into this trance, watching that simple black bug that has never had any fear in it's life. Its never had to worry about Calamity Ganon, it has never wondered all night long if a Yiga Clan member would sneak up while it slept and slice it's throat, it hasn't felt the weight of every one of its species lives on its shoulders.

He gets so lost watching the sun glint off it's onyx body that when something alive touches his shoulder, he doesn't think. He doesn't question. He just whips his hand down to the dagger strapped to his thigh and swings it around at the perfect angle to stab the attacker in the neck.

He recognizes Hyrule too late. His body is moving and there's no stopping it no matter how loud his mind screams no. It's too late. He's going to kill his best friend. He's going to stab his neck all because he's paranoid and exhausted and-

Pain shoots up his wrist as Hyrule unflinchingly blocks the dagger with his own. Wild hisses and drops his weapon and Hyrule simply sighs and smiles.

"H-how?" Wild breathes. There's conversation coming from the others. None of them has noticed that Wild just tried to kill one of their own.

"You're not the only one on edge," Hyrule says, smirking slightly, making him look a little ragged and edgy when combined with his tangled hair and the bags under his eyes. "I knew you were going to lash out, which is why I volunteered to get your attention."

Wild just stares at him wide eyed and Hyrule chuckles softly to himself as he sits down besides Wild. He brushes the bug off from Wild's pants and watches it scatter away with sharp eyes.

"Don't think I haven't noticed you holding yourself back whenever you're startled. You're always fighting that urge, that fear."

"How do you know?"

Hyrule lets out a breath of air and folds his arms across his chest. "Takes on to know one. You and I are travelers, the rest of them grew up in safety while you and I have only known danger and where the next meal is going to come from." He glances at Wild and flashes his teeth. "Took me forever to stop trying to stab Zelda whenever she startled me."

"How'd you do it?" Wild finds himself asking.

Hyrule huffs and picks at a blade of grass. "Meditation, breathing. I can teach you some methods if you want. Helps calm your brain down, realize that you're okay."

Wild chuckles slightly and yawns, reminding him of his tiredness. "Yeah, well, we aren't exactly okay right now."

"Actually, we've been here for thirty minutes and nothing has happened," Hyrule says and Wild lifts his eyebrows in surprise. He hasn't even realized there was a passage of time. "Yeah, Four realized that he recognizes where we are, we must have switched worlds again."

"So all that traveling… is over?"

"Yup," Hyrule says. He groans and pushes himself to his feet, then holds out his hand, friendly, welcoming. "For now. C'mon. I know some breathing techniques that will help you fall asleep. No nightmares, I swear. "

"I'll take you up on that offer, Magic Man," Wild replies, grinning.

"Oh shut up, Mr Survival."

Wild takes his hand.

-o-o-o-o-

@linkeduniverse

#jin writes #fan fiction #linked universe #hero of the wild #fan fic #hero of hyrule #legend of zelda

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victimofthemusic · 5 years

Text

Five Times Tony Stark Was a Good Dad (And One Time He Wasn’t) Pt. 5

Hey guys! We’ve almost reached the end and I’m so excited to get the last few chapters up. This chapter was inspired by Tom Holland’s adorable relationship he has with his dog, Tessa and a few other fics that I’ve read over the last couple of weeks. I have the outline for the next chapter so it should be posted in the next couple of weeks! Enjoy and thank you for reading (:

If you want to read the other chapters, you can find them here: Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, & Pt.4

~~~~~~~~~

“Peter, your mom and dad, they—“ Aunt May choked on a sob, her grip on his shoulders tight, “They—“

“They’re not coming back, bud.” Uncle Ben said softly, bright blue eyes filled with unshed tears and something tight wound its way around Peter’s heart.

“No, you’re lying! I want my mommy and daddy!”

“They’re gone, Peter.”

Gone

Gone—

Blood, so much blood. Peter looked down at his hands, the dark crimson staining his skin and dripping on to the sidewalk. Sirens blared in the distance, there was shouting, erratic heart beats, pained groans—

Uncle Ben

“Pete—Peter, I—“ A cough and blood spilled from his lips, slipping down his chin and Peter could only watch, helpless.

“Ben, please—please hold on—“

“Take care of May—“

“—I can hear the ambulance, just a little longer—“ Peter pleaded, tears blurring his vision and panic gripping his racing heart.

“—be…safe—“ Another cough, more blood, a wheeze.

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.

Uncle Ben—

“No, no, no, please uncle Ben, please don’t go—“

Gurgling, more wheezing, even more blood.

“Sir, we need to ask you to move so we can help him—“

“—He’s going into shock—“

“—he’s not going to make it, he’s lost too much blood—“

“—I can’t find an exit wound, the bullet is still in there—“

“—Peter—“

“Uncle Ben, please—“

My fault my fault my fault—

“I told you, if you didn’t stop messing with my business, I was going to kill everyone you loved.”

The Vulture smirked as he held the gun to May’s head, his eyes dancing oddly as he watched her squirm and cry heavy mascara tears. She struggled against his hold, her dark eyes pleading with Peter.

Save me, save us.

But he couldn't move, his body was trapped underneath the rubble of what was the roof of the building. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe and he couldn't think clearly. His spidey-sense was going haywire, his body was alive with pain and he could taste the blood in his mouth.

“Peter—“ May begged.

The silver of the barrel glinted dangerously in the lowlight and Peter squirmed, crying out in agony as rebar stabbed him in the thigh—

“I told you, stay out of it—“

“Peter—

“Say goodbye to your aunt, Peter—“

“Peter please—“

“—I warned you—“

“Peter—!”

A gunshot and more blood—

“No!”

Peter

All my fault all my fault—

Peter—

There’s so much blood—

“Peter!”

His head was on fire, his senses in overdrive—

“Peter—damn it kid—“

A hand grabbed his arm and he cried out, fire coursing through his veins—

“Peter!”

Choking on a gasp, Peter opened his eyes to total darkness. His legs were tangled in the sheets and he could feel sweat-soaked state of his shirt clinging to his back. The back of his head was tingling, the hair on his arms standing at attention and he realized, as he tried to focus on getting air into his lungs, that he wasn’t alone and someone was talking to him.

“—you’re okay kid, you’re okay—F.R.I.D.A.Y. give me his levels—“

“—blood pressure is one-fifty over ninety, heart rate is at one hundred and fifty beats per minute—“

“Kid, can you hear me? It’s me, Tony, you’re in your room at the tower, in Manhattan, you’re safe, no one can hurt you—F.R.I.D.A.Y. hit the lights, level four, we don’t want to overstimulate his senses—“

Dim light filtered through the darkness and Peter felt something in his chest loosen at being able to see his surroundings. The familiar light charcoal walls, the blue of his bed spread, the giant IronMan poster hanging over his desk and Tony, kneeling on the plush grey carpet beside his bed, watching him with unconcealed concern and Peter’s gut twisted with guilt.

“Mr. Stark—Tony, shit I’m so sorry—“

“Pete,” Tony interrupted, voice uncharacteristically gentle, “it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but no words would come out. His mind flashed back to blood, all the blood, my fault, my fault, May screaming—

Something was in his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision and something that resembled a sob ripped itself from his lungs and made it’s way passed his lips. His entire body was shaking, his head was spinning and he could feel the bile rising in his throat, the lump pressing harder against his esophagus until he couldn't breathe. He bolted up out of bed, tripping on the bed sheets and ignoring the harsh cold of the tiled bathroom floor, he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up dinner.

Wave after wave of nausea hit him to the point where it felt like it was never going to let up. His brain was still swirling with the images of blood and death, the sounds of uncle Ben’s protests and May’s screams still playing through his ears and Peter prayed to anything or anyone who would listen to just make it stop.

A hesitant but strong hand landed gently on Peter’s shoulder, another coming to rub in between his shoulder blades as the vomit gave way to bile and his throat and stomach ached in protest of bringing up anything else.

When the world stopped spinning and the angry sea in his stomach settled, Peter lifted a weak hand to flush the toilet and pushed himself off of his knees to lean heavily against the sink. He rinsed his mouth out before he grabbed his Darth Vader toothbrush, wanting to rid his mouth of the horrible taste of stomach acid and half digested Pad Thai.

Peter ignored his reflection in the mirror as he wiped at his mouth and he could feel Tony’s concerned stare burning a hole in the back of his neck, but he ignored that, too. He could feel the fatigue in his bones, but his mind was too hectic to go back to sleep, his stomach lurching in protest at the thought of seeing more of—

“Peter,” Tony said, voice soft and Peter, startled, met his worried gaze in the mirror, “Why don’t you take a hot shower and change into some new PJ’s, okay? Meet me down stairs in the living room when you’re done.”

Peter nodded numbly, already stripping out of his sweat clothes. He fought against the anxiety rising in his chest at being left alone again and for a wild moment, he thought about asking Tony to stay outside the bathroom, just to have the comfort of knowing someone was there, in case something or someone wanted to get him at his most vulnerable. Like the time Peter snuck out of bed and into the living room when he was five and supposed to be sleeping. Aunt May and uncle Ben were sitting on the couch, watching Jaws and the next night, at bath time, Peter was terrified of getting into the water, images of a hundred foot long shark with bloodied jaws of his victims flashing through his little mind and Ben, bless him, stood outside the bathroom in case he had to fight off a shark for him.

“I’ll be right outside Pete, nothing is gonna get you, you’re safe with me.”

Shaking his head, he mumbled for F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn on the water as hot as her code would allow her to go, the A.I. forever coded to keep his safety in mind.

He washed quickly, not wanting to be by himself for longer than he had to or to keep Tony waiting for too long. Stepping out of the shower, he toweled himself off and headed back into his room, shivering as his hot skin met the cold air.

He noticed the fresh pajamas laid out on his bed, along with the new sheets that were on his bed—they were blue when he went into the shower and now his sheets had IronMan all over them, in different stages of action and despite the nightmare still fresh in his mind, he smiled at Tony’s attempt at humor.

Shrugging into his new pajamas, he wrapped himself in his Star Wars blanket and made his way down stairs, where he found Tony waiting for him on the sofa with two steaming mugs of something in his hands and the opening scene of the first Star Wars movie playing at low volume on the giant flat screen TV.

Tony handed him the mug—hot chocolate—when he sat down and manifested a blanket for himself and another one of Peter, in case he wanted it. Peter took a hesitant sip from his mug and had to bite back a moan of satisfaction when the rich sweetness met his tongue and danced over his tastebuds. There was no way this was Swiss Miss.

“All the way from Belgium,” Tony confirmed his thoughts, taking a sip from his own mug, “It’s my favorite and way better than store bought, bleh.”

Peter huffed a weak laugh at Tony’s snobbish tendencies and took another sip of the delicious brew, ignoring the piping hot temperature because it was so so so good.

He snuggled deeper into the nest of blankets as F.R.I.D.A.Y. started the movie and all thoughts of the Vulture and Ben and May’s blood curdling screams drifted as he was taken to a galaxy far far away.

Tony wrapped his arm around the back of the couch and began playing with Peter’s shower dampened curls, running his fingers through it. A small smile found its way across his lips as Peter leaned into his touch, his shoulders relaxing further into his blankets, his eyes never leaving the screen in front of him, sipping away at his hot chocolate.

Peter looked so small and vulnerable, wrapped up in Avengers themed blankets and sipping his hot chocolate from an Iron Man mug and it made Tony’s chest ache at the youth that radiated from the scene in front of him. Peter was just a kid, barely a teenager and he was already dealing with horrific nightmares that Tony himself was no stranger to. He had his own demons that preyed on his unconscious mind every night and he wouldn't wish some of things he saw on his worst enemy, let alone the fifteen year old kid sitting next to him.

Tony wanted to ask him what his nightmares were about, but he knew Peter, as much as he trusted Tony, wouldn't want to talk about it and burden Tony with his problems. Peter, because of his intelligence, was often treated with a level of maturity that didn’t match up with his age and Tony was no stranger to that. People forgot, often times, that because he was so smart, that he developmentally, he was still a kid. A stupid teenager with stupid teenage tendencies that, mixed with his scary level of intelligence, often times turned into disaster.

Peter had a brilliant mind and Tony could only imagine what his subconscious mind could conjure up to scare the kid so badly that he got physically sick from it.

A light snore broke Tony from his thoughts and glancing down, Peter was now snuggled into his side, dead to the world and holding his mug precariously in his grasp. With fond smile, Tony gently took the mug from his hands and placed it on the coffee table, making a mental note to grab it in the morning. Slowly, so he didn’t disturb the sleeping teen, he slid out from the couch and scooped Peter into his arms, ignoring the warmth that bloomed in his chest when the kid snuggled closer to his chest, his hand resting against the arc reactor as he dozed on, completely oblivious.

He made it to Peter’s room without a hitch—the kid was still snoozing away and Tony didn’t drop him, so he counted it as a win. He walked across the soft carpeted floor and carefully eased Peter down onto his fresh Iron Man sheets. Peter snuggled into the pillows easily enough, but when Tony tried to remove his arms from underneath Peter, a small frown caused a furrow to appear between his eyebrows, which gave Tony pause. Peter, as if he sensed his hesitation, rolled over on his side and snuggled back into Tony’s arms, his hand once again finding purchase on the arc reactor. The furrow between his eyes disappeared and he seemed to settle back into the pillows, his body relaxed and face smoothed back into the serene expression of one in the middle of a good nights sleep.

Tony hesitated, ensuring that the kid was settled and comfortable and asleep, before he tried to get his limbs back, once again coming up unsuccessful.

Because the kid adhered himself to Tony.

As in, he was stuck.

To Tony

Like the little spiderling he was.

“You don’t make things easy, do you kid?” Tony muttered, sighing as he weighed his options.

His back was already aching from being bent over this long and there was no way he would be able to do this for the next several hours or whenever the kid decided to get up.

He wasn't gaining ownership of his limbs anytime soon and if he tried, he’d probably rip his skin off and then he’d have to deal with the weight of Peter guilt for god knows how long. They hadn’t explored this particular enhanced ability too much, but Tony was sure without any sort of experimentation, this would not end in his favor if he tried to move and it’s not like he wanted to wake the kid up to ask him to kindly remove himself from Tony and give him the use of his arms back.

So that left Tony with only one option and that meant he had to roll Peter over, facing the opposite way and Tony crawled over him, holding his breath and praying that he didn’t wake the kid up. Finally, his body met the softness of the mattress and his lower back sighed in relief. He had to rearrange some pillows and adjust the blankets, but he settled, his eyes heavy, he watched Peter—the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, the small pout on his lips, the serene expression on his face as he dreamed (hopefully) better dreams. And the way his hand never left the arc reactor, it’s soft glow illuminating the room like a night light.

And that’s when Tony got an idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter trudged into the Tower, his back pack slipping off of his shoulder and landing haphazardly on the floor, but Peter couldn’t find it in himself to care. He face planted onto the couch, curling up into the fetal position and closed his eyes, sighing in satisfaction at finally being able to rest.

His nightmares had been getting worse, to the point where he didn’t sleep at night. He either stayed out late patrolling or caught up on his homework, choosing to do something more productive with his time than falling victim to nightmares.

And some nights, when it was really bad and homework and patrolling couldn’t keep the thoughts at bay, he’d web his way to the tallest building he could find and sit there and just listen to the city—sirens, clubs, taxis, car horns, chatter. His thoughts got drowned out by everything else going on around him and sometimes being up high, felt like it was the only time he could breathe.

“Kid, I know I’ve told you make yourself at home, but that doesn’t mean you get to just toss your stuff wherever you feel like—“

Peter groaned, opening a bleary eye to watch Tony nudge his backpack out of the way with his foot as he made his way over to the couch.

“”m sorry, I’ll pick it up later.” He muttered, burying his face back into soft cushion.

“Or you could pick up now, bring it down to the lab and get cracking on the homework I know you’ve got piled up in there.” Tony countered, sitting on the coffee table.

“It’s Friday and I’ve already finished all my homework last night.” Peter said, voice muffled from the couch cushions.

He could feel the weight of Tony’s stare as he shifted on the couch and Peter was avoiding looking him in the eyes, knowing the question that was on the tip of Tony’s tongue.

“That bad, huh?” He asked, his tone going from harpy to soft, gentle and it still made the guilt rise in Peter, knowing that Tony worried about his sleeping habits along with everything else he had going on in his life.

Peter hesitated and Tony sensed it, “Pete, you can talk to me.”

He was ashamed to admit it, but he felt tears fill his eyes. He was just so tired. But he was afraid, of closing his eyes, of seeing Ben die, all the blood and May and the Vulture—

“It always starts with my parents,” Peter began, voice thin, “I-I don't remember them much, but I remember the day they died—Ben and May, they sat me down and told me that my parents weren’t ever coming back. Even though I don’t remember them much, I still feel like there’s this loss? I guess is the best way. Like there was piece in my life where they should be and they’re not there anymore. It’s like a—a void?”

He can feel his voice get shakier as his brain goes over his nightmares that intertwine with memories and he feels like he’s asleep, trapped somewhere he doesn't want to be.

“I uh, I was there, the night Ben died,” Peter admits in a whisper, “I had just gotten my powers, I was scared and confused and I couldn’t tell anyone and we got into a fight and I ran away and Ben came looking for me and there was this guy who—“ Peter chokes on the words, everything coming out in a rush, “he had a gun and he had just robbed a liquor store and Ben tried to stop him and he got shot and I was walking home and I saw it and I couldn’t—I couldn't stop it. There was so much blood and he was dying and it was my fault. I shouldn't have ran away from home and if I hadn’t, he wouldn't have been there and he’d be here. There’s always so much blood, I smell it and I see it and I see him, drenched in it and there’s nothing I can do.”

Peter chokes back a sob, his hands shaking and his chest tight, “And then it’s the Vulture—he has May and he’s holding a gun to her head. He warned me that I should've stayed out of it, that I brought this on myself and I can’t move because there’s a building on top of me and I-I can’t get out, but he has May and she begging me to save her, help her and I can’t. He shoots her and I can hear her screams and there’s more blood and he’s laughing and so much blood and I—“

Peter’s babbling at this point, shaking with tears and he’s so tired, so fucking tired and all he wants is to sleep and he doesn’t know how to without the nightmares.

He doesn’t know how he ends up in Tony’s embrace, but one minute he’s sitting on the couch, crying like a baby and the next thing he knows, he’s being pressed into a warm chest, the edges of the arc reactor digging into his cheek. Warm hands are carding themselves through Peter’s hair and it’s so nice, to be held and just cared for. Tony smells like Tom Ford cologne and engine oil, the arc reactor is giving off a soft glow and he just feels safe.

He settles himself eventually, pulling away from Tony and wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

He meets Tony’s eyes and half expects him to crack a joke to ease the tension, but he doesn’t. Tony looks tired too, but in a different way and it makes Peter feel guilty. He knows his nightmares have taken a toll on Tony’s sleeping habits, interrupting whatever sleep he does manage to get to comfort Peter through his nightmares.

“Pete, I know it’s not easy, to talk this stuff through, but it does help.” Tony said, ruffling his hair, “not talking about, not sleeping, it makes things a lot worse than they need to be and you know you can talk to me, whenever you need to.”

He cupped Peter’s cheek in his strong grasp, urging him to look up into his eyes and Peter complied, “I know what it’s like to relive the horrors of your past and the manifestations of what could’ve happened and I hate more than anything that you have to go through this, especially at your age. You’ve seen things that someone even my age should have to witness and I’m so proud of you for still trying to push through. You’re so strong, bud, but it’s okay to ask for help. Even with stuff like this, okay?”

Peter nodded and Tony patted him on the back, standing up, “No science stuff today, you need sleep, but first, I need to show you something.”

Peter followed him down to the lab, ignoring the urge to fall over on the next available surface to finally succumb to the fatigue that was pulling at his eyelids.

“Now, as much as I would love to have sleep overs and be clung to like a Koala does a tree branch—,” Tony began, giving Peter a side eye.

Peter gave him a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“—I need my sleep too and you need to learn how to sleep on your own, because even though I don’t mind being your security blanket, there’s going to be times where I’m not available so—“

F.R.I.D.A.Y. opened the lab doors and Peter noticed two things.

The first was the labrador puppy sitting patiently on the lab table with a red bow around it’s neck.

The second, was that it seemed to be curious about an object lying next to him (her?), sniffing at it curiously and giving it an experimental lick.

“Hey, paws off the prototype mister—“ Tony said, rushing over to the work table and grabbing up the object that oddly resembled an arc reactor—similar to the one glowing in Tony’s chest.

The puppy merely blinked up at Tony, it’s tail tapping a soft beat against the metal lab table.

Peter was beyond confused.

“Tony, what—“ he began, looking from the puppy, to Tony, back to the puppy.

“Well, first off, congratulations, it’s a boy!” Tony said, scooping up the puppy and thrusting it into Peter’s face.

Big, brown, puppy eyes stared up at him eagerly, a pink tongue poking out from his mouth and aiming for Peter’s nose.

Peter was sure he was going to melt from the overdose of cuteness.

“Is he—is he mine?” Peter asked hesitantly, taking the puppy gingerly from Tony’s hands and cuddling it close to his chest. The puppy panted happily, lapping at Peter’s chin and wriggling in his arms to get closer, his paw resting on his chest.

“Yup, just picked him up from the shelter today—I went the adoption route, rather than the shop route—and he’s all yours. Don’t worry, I talked to May and she was up for the idea, even talked it over with your landlord, just in case. I’m paying for all the vet bills of course, but the responsibility—making sure it eats, sleeps and gets walked and all that jazz, is on you.”

Peter stared blankly at Tony, “You bought me a dog?”

“Adopted,” Tony corrected with a tut, “but yes, I did.”

Peter studied the puppy, who was now content on chewing on the draw string of his hoodie and he couldn't help the smile that graced his face if he tried. He had a dog. A dog. Of his very own.

His

“Tony—I—thank you, but why—“ Peter fumbled for words, glancing up at the ball of cuteness to look at Tony in disbelief.

Tony gave him a smile, giving the dog (Peter was really going to have to come up with a name), a pat on the head and he got a lick for his troubles, “I talked to Rhodey, told him you were having a rough time of it lately and he works with the VA and he told me about all the research they're doing into emotional support dogs for soldiers who come back with PTSD. Labs are supposed to be one of the top breeds and they ease anxiety, nervousness and they can even sense a nightmare and help you through it. This little guy was entered into the program and he proved to be a little to rambunctious for the discipline, so I gave the partnering shelter the program uses a quick phone call and well-ah.”

Peter stared down in awe at his new companion and couldn't believe that this adorable ball of cuteness was his.

“Rhodey is going to help train him up a little bit, but he’s going to sleep with you and hopefully, having his presence in the room will help ease some of your anxiousness to sleep and help with your nightmares but if it doesn’t—“

Tony turned to the lab table and handed what Thor, (Peter decided the puppy looked like a Thor) was about to use as a chew toy, to Peter, who shifted the puppy to the floor to take a better look at it.

It was an arc reactor, the same one that Tony had in his chest and it glowed the same soothing blue tone light that emitted from Tony’s, but it was little bit bigger and tapping it, a thinner beam of light filtered from the center of it and looking up at the ceiling of the lab, an image of the Iron Man helmet was projected onto the tiles.

“It’s a nightlight,” Tony explained, “I’ve noticed that the glow of the arc reactor is soothing to you, whenever you’ve had nightmares and I think it’ll help that, should this little guy fail at the one job I’m giving him and I’m not here, you have a light when you wake up, so you’re not in the dark.”

Peter was exhausted. That was the excuse he was going to use for why his eyes were watering for the second time in the last hour and not because Tony got him a dog that he loved, but also made him a night light in the shape of the one thing that calmed Peter during his worst nights. Something he’s never admitted out loud, but Tony figured out anyways.

“Tony, I—thank you.” Peter breathed, staring down at the nightlight and the puppy simultaneously and Tony waved him off.

“It’s no big deal, I just had to make a few tweaks to the program—I also made sure to add in the same feature my reactor has, just tap it and it becomes your suit. In case theres an emergency or whatever. Not that the tower will ever be attacked or anything, but it helps me sleep at night, knowing my suit isn't too far away from me,” Tony furrowed his eyebrow, “some have called that hyper-vigilance, but I called it being a good boy scout and being prepared, even if the experts don’t see it that way but I’ve never been one for soft sciences—“

Tony’s cut off abruptly when Peter wraps his arms around him and squeezes, to the point where Tony’s sure he’s cracked a rib or two but he can’t find it in him to care. He squeezes the kid back with just as much force, his heart warming at the thought of getting this parenting thing right.

“You’re the best, Tony, thank you.” Peter says as he finally pulls away, brown eyes shining with the upmost sincerity and Tony grins, ruffling Peter’s curls.

“Don’t mention it, kid, I just hope this helps.”

~~~~~~~~~

It was a late night in the work shop for Tony, he was working out some kinks in the software for Peter’s suit and adding some new upgrades he’d thought of in the recent months and he wanted to surprise Peter with them when he woke up in the morning.

He’d sent the kid to bed hours ago, despite the complaining and the pouting—all on Peter’s end and even though Tony wanted him here with him in the lab, he was trying to be good at this parenting thing and that meant curfew’s and rules and boundaries. At least that’s what the parenting books said.

Tony stretched, his lower back popping back into alignment in the most satisfying way. He had reached his limit of what he could do, it was up to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to finish inputting all the changes and Tony found himself wanting to check in on Peter.

“What’s the time, Fri?” Tony asked as he headed out of the lab and into the elevator to go up to the penthouse floor.

“3:26 am, boss.” She replied back dutifully.

“And how’s underoos doing?”

“Mr. Parker is currently in R.E.M sleep, his BP is one-forty over eighty, body temperature is one-oh-one point six, pulse rate is steady at ninety five beats per minute—“

“I didn’t a whole med report F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Tony said with a roll of his eyes as he made his way down the hall way towards Peter’s room.

“Of course, boss, my mistake. Should I make a change to my code to respond with a open ended and general statement such as ‘fine’ or okay the next time you ask about Mr. Parker’s well being? Would that suffice your curiosity?”

Tony didn’t know where he’d placed the sass level last when he updated the A.I.’s code but he knew for damn sure it wasn't at one hundred. He didn’t dignify the sassy A.I. with a response, choosing instead, to let it go ignored and check on Peter himself.

The door was cracked open, so Thor—Tony rolled his eyes at the name but after living with the overenthusiastic lab the last couple of weeks, he couldn't deny that Peter had chosen a rather fitting name for the dog—could get in and out of the room if he pleased, but Tony had never seen a more devoted animal in his life.

Thor and Peter had taken to each other right from the get go and at this point, they were inseparable. While labs were generally friendly and loved affection from anyone, there was no denying that Thor clearly favored Peter over anyone in the room. He followed Peter around the tower like his own shadow and never left his side during the night, which caused DUM-E to work over time to get rid of certain stains out of the carpet. And Peter was just as enamored by the puppy as Thor was with him—it was a match made in heaven.

Peeking his head into the doorway, Tony couldn't help the smile that graced his lips at the sight before him. Peter was sprawled out in his bed, covers half kicked off, Iron Man pajamas in full view and snoring away. Thor was in an equal state of comfort—his little body splayed out on the other side of the bed, head rest on Peter’s out stretched hand and snoozing away next to his owner. The arc reactor nightlight was on display on Peter’s night stand, the Iron Man symbol floating on the ceiling like a reminder that no matter what, Tony was always there for him and his heart warmed.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., take a picture and archive it, I need to send this to May.”

“As you wish, boss.”

Just as Tony turned to go back to his room to finally succumb to the fatigue he could feel starting to creep up on him, Peter made a whimpering noise and in a flash, Tony was back in the doorway, poised to wake the teen if need be. But before he could, he heard the telltale sign of sheets rustling and then the sight of a little yellow head popped up from his resting place. Tony watched as Thor scurried over to Peter, climbing up his body and finding a place on his chest, sitting down right over his heart. He began licking and pawing gently at his face, urging his human to wake up from whatever scary thing was causing him discomfort. After a moment, Peter seemed to settle back down and Thor watched him closely before he, too, settled back down. Rather than moving back to his original place, he curled up on Peter’s chest and his big eyes caught Tony moving back out of the door way and his ears perked at the intrusion, but he didn’t move from his distressed human.

Thor stared at Tony and Tony stared right back, caught in a Mexican stand off with a four month old labrador puppy.

Tony cracked a smile and nodded to the dog, “Good boy, Thor. Keep watching over underoos and keep him safe, okay? And if you need to, come get me, you know where I sleep.”

Tony turned back into the hallway, but stopped himself and looked back over his shoulder at the dog that was starting to doze off again, but perked back up at Tony’s reappearance.

“—and if I catch you chewing on my favorite Gucci slippers again, we’re gonna have to have a talk, okay? They don’t make them anymore and I know I’m a billionaire and Tony Stark, but lemme tell you, getting Gucci to bring back an old style is damn near impossible. Saving the world is a piece of cake compared to that, capisce?”

Thor simply blinked slowly up at Tony, before he shuffled around so his head was now nestled into Peter’s shoulder and his butt was facing a rather affronted Tony.

Canine or not, Tony understood the gesture for what it was.

He just got told to kiss a furry ass

“You’re lucky Peter likes you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you guys for reading and please feel free to let me know what you think (:

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lovelybebop · 5 years

Text

Careless

x-bloody-inspired-x said:Hi, can I request a Levi x Reader where she's very reckless and has no regard for her own safety whatsoever. Like, she doesn't care if she lives or dies, and that makes Levi very angry. Thanks!

Howdy ya’ll! I will admit this got to be pretty long and I’m not exactly sure what happened but I think some melodramatic, angsty demon took over my body while I was writing this because... things got (As I said b4) ANGSTY real quick. well compared to my usual writing I suppose

If you catch any error let me know!

Thank you and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: ANGST, Levi a little OOC, cursing, mentions mental distress.

“Y/N! I told you to not engage!” You heard Levi yell at you front behind. Disregarding his order you jumped up pulling the left trigger on your 3DM gear aiming it at a near by tree “Watch my horse Armin!” you yelled at him before being pulled off in the direction of the forest. You let yourself be pulled sideways until you were deep enough into the woodland area you could fire you other hook far ahead of you. ‘Levi said there were three Titan just ahead’ You mused to yourself. Instinctively your eyes darted around you taking in every little detail, not so much out of self-preservation but out of sheer adrenaline. You didn’t view killing Titans as dangerous like the others you saw it as a sport. You loved the terror that entered your body when a titan raised it’s hand to grab you only to miss as you dart up to it’s head, cutting deeply into it’s nap. From behind you, you could hear your comrades yelling but you ignored them. “Geez get a li-” you tried to say until you felt yourself be swatted to the ground.

Your breathe was stolen from your lungs as soon as you hit the ground, a awful ache shot through your shoulders and legs. Quickly you flipped onto your back to see a titan grinning stupidly at you. A smile crept onto your face. ‘Come on dummy!” You yelled hopping enthusiastically to your feet drawing your blades. The titan reached its hand out towards you heeding to your desire. You shot your hooks into it’s arm gracefully swinging off the the left of it. It turned tracking your movement but you were to fast for it to land another attack on you. You released your hooks from it’s skin feeling yourself glide freely through the air.

From a distance your teammates watched in horror “Should we do something Captain?” Eren yelled. Levi looked hesitantly in your direction. You had your blades raised in triumph being seconds away from killing the beast that had knocked you down. “No if she wan’t to go against orders and die that’s her choice” Eren seemed to stumble on the words he tired to form in his mouth. “But captain we can’t- I can’t just watch her die!” Levi turned his head, focusing his eyes in front of him. So badly he wanted to say ‘yes’ and rocket off of his horse to go get you. Seeing you act so carelessly made his chest ache and his brain flood with anxiety. He hated the way you threw your small body at every titan you came into contact in with, seeming to have waged some personal vendetta against them.

You were the only person left from the original Special Operations Squad after Petra and the others had passed. He had known you for so long and loved you very deeply. Not that he had ever expressed this to you.

Your wild laughter erupted from the forest as a sign of your victory. Levi sighed ‘At least she’s okay’ he said watching you fly towards them a wide smile spread across your face.

Back at camp.

You silently tied up your horse staring off into space. You body felt drained, a deep melancholy settling onto you. Most of the other cadets had finished tending to their horses and walked sorely into the building to get out of the cool night air, leaving you completely alone. You enjoyed the silence letting your eyes wander off to observe the night sky. The sun had just finished setting allowing the moon to paint the skies a deep midnight blue, the color being so dense the only thing to break through it was the bright stars. Your horse bumped your shoulder with its nose stealing you attention away. “What is it?” you said petting it’s neck. The animal glanced to the empty stall next to it then to the water troff in front of it.

Sadly you looked to the stall thinking of the times you would tie up your horse Petra doing the same next to you after an expedition. The two of you would look at each other quietly for a moment until a smile spread across both of your faces, happy to see the other one alive. You cast your glance down feeling tears well up but fought them off choosing to focus on following the same trail your comrades had. Once inside you made your way into the mess hall where the others were tiredly eating, a low murmur filling the air. You walked forward to retrieve you food when you felt a strong hand grab your wrist. Forming a fake smile on your face you looked up at whoever grabbed you. “We need to discuss something now.” Levi growled at you pulling you out of the mess hall and into the hallway. “What is it Levi?” You said attempting to pull your arm out of his grasp. Ignoring you he pulled you down the hallway. You planted your feet firmly on the ground in front of you pulling back with all of your. “Levi let the hell go of me!” He spare you a word but coldly turned his head at you staring at you with the most hateful glare you had ever seen. He dropped your hand and continued walking forward.

The tears you suppressed earlier came climbing back up. “Levi?” you said walking closely behind him as he made his way to his office. As the two of you walked you couldn’t help but notice the way his held himself. His shoulders were tenser then usual and he clenched both of his hands into fists, his knuckles completely white. He had chewed you out before for acting carelessly on a mission but he had never acted like this. As a matter of fact you had never in the four years you had known him, never seen him act so tense.

He made one final right turn and ripped his door open impatiently leaving it open behind him so you were able to walk in after him. Careful not to make a sound you entered the door gently closing the door behind you. Your eyes darted to his figure. He was standing in front of his desk, his back turned to you and his head looking in front of him. “I’m sorry I took off.” you said hoping to damper his anger. “I just got ahead of mys-” He flipped around stomping towards you a wild look in his eye. “What you did today was unacceptable.” he said the tip of his nose touching yours. You felt your face suddenly become warm at his closeness. “I know your sad since losing the others but that’s no excuse to run around acting like an idiot and get yourself killed. We all miss them, your not special.”

You felt a wall rise inside of you and your self defense mechanisms trigger, you hated talking about feelings and things that mattered. It was much more simple to focus on the lighter things in life like eating breakfast or the feeling of your blades ripping a Titan out of existence. “That’s not why I’m doing it” you said crossing your arms in front of you. You were not letting him get through to you. He raised his right eyebrow at you a look of disappointment in his eyes. “I wish you would stop acting like a child but if that’s what you want to do then so be it.” he sighed shifting his body away from you. Puzzled you watched him noticing he was attempting to form a sentence in his mouth but stopped like he couldn’t form the words. “So be what?” you finally asked keeping your voice stern. Another sigh left his mouth before he looked at you will cold grey eyes. “For disobeying a commanding officers orders you will be dismissed permanently for the Survey Corps. I have already cleared it with Commander Erwin”

His words punched a whole thorough your your entire existence. Suddenly you felt hollow the only thing that seemed to be felt in you cavernous body was a throbbing misery, pain like you had never felt before. Quiet tears involuntarily fell down onto your cheeks but you didn’t hide them or look away from his sight like you always had done. “You’re so selfish. This has nothing to do with me disobeying orders, you let Eren get away with that kind of shit all the time. This isn’t about me at all this is it? No it’s completely about you. Your just pissed I disobeyed your order and insulted your ego” You spat, eyes burned into his face. His heart sunk with sadness at your hateful glare. “No that’s not it at all Y/N and you know that.”

You hummed your brain flooding with anger. You wanted to punch him in the face for making you feel this sort of pain. How could you had come to trust with your life completely turn his back on you, casting you aside for some minor incident. You loved him and wanted to be by his side fighting not that you ever told him that though. Not wanting to feel these emotions anymore you simply smiled at his nodding your head. “Whatever you say Levi. I hope you have a good life. I apologize for any inconveniences I have caused.” Without waiting to respond you walked away from him the sound of your boots hitting the wooden floor echoed throughout the room.

He had made the decision to disband you from action after he sat Petra dead, blood trickling down her face. He remembered his mind raced, praying you had made it out, of course he was sad the others hadn’t but even the mere image of you being struck down like they had without him being there to intervene made him sick. After the incident he prayed you would get hurt, prayed you would get pregnant, regardless if it was with him or not, he begged whatever faceless divinity watched his pathetic species to inhibit you from continuing your career in the Survey Corps. ‘Are you sure this is not out of personal feelings Levi? She’s a good cadet’ he heard Erwin’s voice boom in his head. ‘No. She is becoming a danger to herself and others.’ he lied. After his meeting with Erwin he had practiced what he was going to say to you hoping for the best outcome, one where you didn’t walk out of his life completely but got the help you needed and lived a normal, safe civilian life but of course that was just a fantasy you were way to stubborn for that.

“So this is it huh?” He said hoping his words would entice you to stay so the two of you could further talk about the situation. “Yes it is” you replied walking out into the hallway, politely shutting it behind you before he was able to say another word.

One year later

He found himself on his horse riding out of town one day, for no particular reason. In the back of his mind something hummed about trying to purchase some tea but he brushed it off as some sad attempt at justification for his aimless wandering. He had plenty of tea, in a plethora of different flavors in his office. So much he it would be ridiculous to think of buying more. No he didn’t ride on his horse two hours away from the ease of his “home” on one of his rare days off to visit this lazy farm town in hopes of finding tea.

“I saw Y/N!” Hanji said to Moblit as the three of them waited in Erwin’s office before a meeting. The blonde nodded “Oh?” he said lightly focusing on the notes that laid on the table in front of him. “Yeah she’s living in some cute little own 2 hours to the north of here. She seems to be doing good!. Still pissed but good!” Levi smiled to himself at Hanji’s words, briefly he became engulfed with happiness at your mention before the guilt and sadness he always felt when you danced through his mind. As your absence began to eat away at him he found himself regretting his decision. He hated not seeing your face among his comrades, hell he even missed getting mad at you for acting for acting reckless, at least he could interact with you then. “She’s alive isn’t she? Why the fuck are you whining? This is exactly what you wanted’ he would think to himself staring blindly at his desk. The weight of his actions settling in on him.

‘I was only trying to protect her’ he thought pulling up on the reins of his horse as he entered the town. His eyes looked around taking the picturesque scene in front of him, Hanji was right the town was pretty cute. It had a very innocent quality to it like the sorrow and brutality of the world he knew had yet to poison it. Little cottages popped up along the road, all of them being surrounded by a profusion of vegetation; whether it be flowers, fruit trees or vegetable plants it all seemed to be there. As he rode forward he noticed a small family that talked excitedly while they collected water in metal pales from the creek that bubbled feet from the road. He had never seen a place more beautiful in his life and felt so happy you had found yourself living safe among it. Going deeper into town he passed by little food stands that were surrounded by woman who picked through the contents on the tables in front of them while their children ran wildly around them. One particular boy while taunting his little sister snatched the doll from her hand and launched it across the road an exhilarated look on his face.

The doll landed in front of Levi’s horse, as did the little girl who chased it. Levi quickly pulled at the reins directing his horse away from the little girl so she didn’t get hurt. “Jesus Joseph!” A brown haired woman shouted down at her son. “you sister could have been really hurt had that man not been paying attention.” She looked apologetically up at him rushing into the street to retrieve her little girl. “I’m so sorry sir you know how kids are.” He nodded his head “It’s okay” he said his voice sounding quieter than he expected. The woman looked over his curiously her eyes seeming to focus on the badge that stuck to his jacket. “That’s odd to see someone like you out here. We never get many people from out of town. What brings you?” Though he was able to keep a straight face panic swirled inside of him. It was such an ordinary question but it stirred him up for some reason. Did he tell her he came for tea? Now that his brain was on the subject of location he had no clue where you were living and even though the town was small it would be a difficult task to track you down. Letting his guard down he replied. “I’m here looking for someone but I’m not sure where they are..” The woman batted her faultless brown eyes at him. “Well who is it? Maybe I could help. It’s the least I could do for not running over this trouble maker” The woman rustled the little girls hair,

Levi looked down at the child almost wanting to laugh at the girls shocked face. ‘I guess this is her first brush with death’ he mused averting his attention back to her mother. “It’s Y/N L/N” he said feeling how sweetly your name rolled off his tongue. It had been awhile since he had spoken it allowed. “Oh of course you would be looking for her!” she exclaimed becoming excited at your mention. “Wasn’t she a cadet at well at some point? Regardless, the towns cutest seamstress lives just down the road where the river crosses over. There a huge tree that shades her place it’s pretty hard to miss” she said winking at him. He awkwardly smiled at her. “Thank you” he said moving hastily down the road not bothering for an answer from the person he had just met. “Wait!?!” she yelled behind him. A sigh escaped his lips as he gently heeled his horse in the ribs prompting it to stop. He turned looking at her. “I didn’t catch your name!” she yelled still standing in the middle of the street. “It’s Levi” he shouted noticing most of the locals looking oddly at him. “I’m Patricia it was nice to meet you!” He paused for a moment breathing in the fresh air. “It was nice to meet you as well” he said before turning around continuing forward.

As he neared closer his mind became a whirlpool of thoughts, his chest heavy with the weight of his feelings. He couldn’t wait to see you despite the anxiety that plagued his heart, despite the fact that you would be pissed at the very sight of him. He couldn’t find a fuck to give even if he had to yell it through your door or from the depths of his grave that you surely would put him in he would tell you that he loved you and that he regretted pushing you off out of his own worry and selfishness. ‘What if she found someone? What is she’s married?’ he froze on his horse a coldness creeping over his shoulder. What if you had moved on? It’s not like you would return the feelings he felt for you in the first place. ‘That makes things a little more difficult’ he said to himself looking down at the small bridge that appeared in front of him. The deep blue water coolly ran under it making it’s way through the yard of the house across the street, the waters color seeming to darken from the shade above it. Sadly he brought his eyes up the trunk of the tree then over to the house that sat peacefully next to it. The confidence he had for a split second drained away leaving him with doubt. ‘You shouldn’t even be here’ he thought ushering his horse to travel into your yard.

You sat peacefully on your back porch basking in the shade that cooled your skin. Earlier you had finished sowing a long skirt for your neighbor and decided after you dropped it off at her house you would take the day to yourself, doing with it what you pleased. At this point you had taken to your back porch laying down on the cushioned bench you had made in your spare time. You let your arms lazily dangle along the wooden porch enjoying how peaceful the moment felt. You didn’t hear the commotion of your visitor tying his horse to the fence around your horse, you hadn’t even heard him walk into the space in front of you not knowing of his presence until the feeling of a boot touched your finger tips. You smiled recognizing it as a similar pair you had worn while you were a cadet.

A smile feel on our lips as you looked up at the owner. You say his sharp jawline first then his suave black hair. He was so handsome at first you wanted to get excited at his presence, hopping to your feet and embracing him in a hug saying how much you missed him and the rest of your comrades. That was until you remembered. “Oh gross” you said sitting up abruptly. In a huff you pushed past him entering through your back door. “Y/N wait” you heard his velvet voice say. You stopped inside of your kitchen anger raging in your chest. ‘Don’t freak out on him. Be calm’ you thought to yourself taking a deep breathe in before turning around. “What is it Levi?” you said crossing your arms across your chest.

He sat just outside of the door frame staring at you with the same eyes he always had, blank, but this time something was different about him. He seemed hurt like there was a giant emotional gash bleeding out underneath his clothes. “May I come in?” he asked politely wanting to stick to formalities. You nodded hearing the floor creak underneath his boots as he stepped inside. To keep your nerves steady you filled the tea kettle you kept next to your sink with water.

Once it was filled your retrieved the set of matches you kept on the shelf above the stove, lighting the wood within it. “You seem to be doing really well for yourself” he said after the moment of silence. “Yes I have” you replied feeling your hands beginning to shake as you set the kettle on the stove. “Your a seamstress now? There was a woman I spoke to that told me, I almost ran over her little brat but she seemed decent.” Your eyes focused on the wooden cupboard “Oh?” you said distantly taking not of the light brown color of the wood. ‘Why the fuck did he come all the way out here? To rub it in m face that I’m some lazy civilian??’ Your body shook but you attempted to conceal it by opening the door taking two white mugs from it setting them adjacent from each other. More silence ensued, a stale air formed between the two of you. Had you been your old self you would have done anything to alleviate the awkwardness but you didn’t, instead you trained your eyes on your counter top letting the quietness crush the two of you.

“Y/N” you felt your arm being pulled gently away from you. When your raised your eyes you found yourself being pulled into Levi’s chest. “I know you would rather die then see my damn face but I wanted to say-” He paused being caught up on his own words. . Everything had gone completely limp, you were melting into him. He exhaled, his breathe shaking slightly. “I’m sorry” He pushed you back little looking you in the eyes. “What I did was shitty and completely selfish. I just couldn’t see you-” He cut himself off again turning away from you.

Your body was completely numb your brain being rendered useless. Isn’t this what you had always wanted? To be held by him? For him to say sorry for the pain he caused you? During the nights you would sob alone in your bed you imagined scenarios similar to this. Levi would realize how wrong he was and come crawling back to you, like he did now. Why didn’t you feel happy why do you feel.. guilty? “I couldn’t see you die like the others.” he said softly his eyes burning a hole in the floor. Like a ghost you moved forward putting your hand on his shoulder. “I love you Y/N and I know this is shitty timing and all but- hell I don’t know what I’m saying. I love you and I’m sorry.”

A smile spread across your face all feeling returning to your body. You snaked your arms around his waist resting your head on his back. Suddenly you weren’t mad at him for kicking you out, if he hadn’t maybe you would have died, throwing any chance of experiencing this moment out of the window. “I love you too Levi and I forgive you. I get it people act selfishly when their in pain. I understand.” He lifted his head feeling a tremendous weight lift off his shoulders. ‘Thank god’ he thought feeling his head bump against yours. He sat still for a moment enjoying the sensation of your body wrapping perfectly around his. “Can I kiss you” he asked suddenly his own words shocking himself. You giggled lightly nodding shyly a pink blush forming on your face.

He turned careful not to break the hold you had around his waist. Gently he brushed your hair behind your left ear deepening the blush on your cheeks. You looked so beautiful. Slowly he leaned forward pressing his lips softly to yours. As soon as his lips landed on yours he felt a cool sensation spread across his face, awakening something inside of him. He deepened the kiss feeling you press closer to him, seeming just as eager. Your arms entangled themselves around his shoulders as his did the same around your lower back. The rush of your skin becoming more tantalizing then the next. He was about to lift you and until you jerked away. “What’s wrong?” he said looking at you with half lidded eyes. “Nothing” you panted sweetly. “I’m just out of breathe.”

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #Captain Levi #LEVI ACKERMAN #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #AoT #snk

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psychosistr · 5 years

Text

Second Chances & Bloody Nights- Jonawagon Vampire!AU Chapter 2

Summary: Speedwagon wakes up after having his blood drained so that he and Jonathan can have an important discussion.

Speedwagon’s eyes slowly opened, the simple action taxing him greatly as though the light flesh was made of lead. His head was swimming, having trouble piecing together what happened at first. There was also a throbbing pain his neck…actually, quite a few points of pain…

Then, all at once, the events from before came flooding back to him: The depression. The knock on his door. The hooded figure. Jonathan Joestar standing in his living room. The red eyes and fangs. The fear of losing Jonathan again. The sharp blade and the blood pouring down his neck. The feeling of Jonathan’s fingers sucking the blood from his veins. The relief of Jonathan breaking through his urges. The way Jonathan looked at him, pleading for him to stay alive.

Speedwagon sat up with a gasp. “Jonathan!” He instantly regretted that decision, as a wave of dizziness and pain hit him like a horse-drawn carriage going full speed down an empty street. He was forced to close his eyes and hold his head with one hand until the unpleasant feelings passed. “Sh-Shit…”

As he recovered, he soon realized that he was lying in his bedroom. Or, rather, the small almost closet-sized room that he’d stuck an old mattress on the floor of and rested inside of when he didn’t pass out on the sofa. When he’d recovered enough to look around, Speedwagon realized that his shirt was gone and that he had fresh bandages wrapped around his neck. While this was a relief, it greatly worried him that he didn’t know where Jonathan was- did he leave after seeing to Speedwagon’s injuries? Would he come back? Had he still gone through with his plan to end his own life? The possible answers to these questions frightened him, so Speedwagon decided to fight through the waves of nausea-inducing dizziness and pain to find out for himself.

Thankfully, just as he was about to force himself to stand up, he heard hurried footsteps approaching the door before it swung outward to reveal Jonathan standing on the other side. His hooded cloak from earlier was gone, leaving him in a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of black pants. “Speedwagon!” The larger man cried out in relief with a large smile on his face. “You’re awake!” He fell to his knees beside Speedwagon’s bed and quickly enveloped the blond in a tight embrace.

Speedwagon was surprised, of course, but still so happy and relieved. Jonathan was alive! He was alive and he was there with him! “Jojo…” His arms felt like they were bound with iron chains they were so hard to move, but he still managed to lift them enough to reciprocate the hug. “You’re..You’re still ‘ere..”

Jonathan leaned back enough to look Speedwagon in the eyes without letting him go. “Of course I am! I couldn’t just leave you like that.” His earlier smile had fallen into a look of genuine concern. “When you passed out like that..I..I was so worried..” He looked down, a frown crossing his face as he recalled what happened. “I thought..I thought you might not wake up…that…that you might…” The words seemed to snag in his throat, but Speedwagon knew what he was trying to say.

Gently rubbing Jonathan’s back, Speedwagon gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Jonathan…didn’ mean t’ scare ya like that..guess me body jus’ up an’ decided it needed a good rest.” He joked lightly, but stopped when Jonathan gave him a concerned frown. “What? Did I say somethin’ weird?”

Jonathan frowned a bit more at the query. “Speedwagon..you’ve been asleep for over three days now.”

Speedwagon blinked in surprise, gaping at Jonathan in disbelief. “Th…Three days?!” At a nod from Jonathan, Speedwagon caught his head in his hand. “Bloody ‘ell..no wonder you ’re so worried…” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and index finger. Well, that certainly explained the stiffness he felt in his limbs. “Sorry ‘bout that..guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“I should certainly say so, if your current physical state is anything to go by.” Jonathan commented in a tone that was somehow both calm and scolding- sounding almost like a parent about to lecture their child.

Speedwagon set his hand back down and looked up at Jonathan. “Whattaya mean?” He didn’t like where this was going…

Jonathan took one of his hands and lightly touched it to Speedwagon’s own face. “Tell me, do you feel anything odd right now?”

Speedwagon fought back the insistent blush as he shook his head. “No? All I feel is your hand.”

“My point exactly.” Jonathan stated as he pulled his hand back and crossed his arms to give Speedwagon a concerned yet disappointed stare. Yep. He definitely looked like a parent lecturing a child. “Speedwagon..my body is technically DEAD- my skin should feel quite cold, if our previous encounters with other undead beings are anything to go off of. The fact that you don’t feel any difference in temperature- and that I cannot feel much warmth from you, in turn- is quite concerning. You did not seem to notice it the other night, either. It means that your body is in a rather poor state of health at the moment.”

Speedwagon felt a pang of not-quite-guilt stab him and he glanced away, avoiding Jonathan’s paternal stare. “I’ve..been sick lately..” He tried to bluff his way out of the situation, but he knew he’d failed when Jonathan raised one skeptical eyebrow.

“My, that must be quite some illness you’ve been afflicted with.” His tone was sarcastic, an odd thing to hear from a man like Jonathan, but it was certainly getting his point across. “Let’s go down the list of symptoms, shall we?” He reached back over and lightly touched Speedwagon just below his eye, the large digit stroking the darkened bags as light as a feather. “Your first symptom appears to be insomnia.”

Speedwagon huffed quietly, still avoiding Jonathan’s gaze and trying not to think too much about the finger touching his face. “Yep. ’s been keepin’ me up all night.” He replied with an equal amount of sarcasm- two could play that game, damn it.

“How troublesome.” Jonathan narrowed his eyes as he moved his finger down to poke at Speedwagon’s bandaged neck next. “The next symptom appears to have caused some changes to your pigmentation- you’ve become so pale that you no longer have any tan lines from your suit.”

Speedwagon reflexively swallowed when he felt that finger slide down to his neck. “Mhm. People keep mistakin’ me for a corpse walkin’ ‘bout town.”

“I’m sure you must give them quite a fright.” Jonathan shot back as his fingertips descended down to Speedwagon’s stomach. “The final symptom has clearly affected your appetite- you’re practically skin and bones. I managed to spoon feed you some broth while you were asleep, but you didn’t seem too keen on keeping it down for long.”

Speedwagon frowned a bit at the news. No wonder he had such an unpleasant after-taste in his mouth. “Yeah..sorry ‘bout that..should’ve warned ya t’ wear a slicker..”

“Speedwagon..” Jonathan said his name in a very firm, warning tone of voice, eyes narrowed in a way that communicated he wasn’t in the mood for any more excuses or sarcastic jokes.

“Bloody ‘ell, Jonathan, whattaya wan’ me t’ say?!” Speedwagon snapped, his tone equal parts annoyed and exasperated as he slapped Jonathan’s hand away from his general vicinity. “I was in mournin’, okay?! You were DEAD!” His voice began to warble slightly, a sob threatening to choke him as annoyance and exasperation melted into anxiety and remnants of his previous depression. “You were dead and I..I was never gonna see y’ again..never get a chance t’ drink with y’ again..never get t’ jus’ sit an’ talk the night away again..” He brought a hand up and covered his eyes, his shoulders shaking with the tears and sobs he was fighting back. “God, so many things I knew I’d never get the chance t’ say to ya..I didn’ even ‘ave anyone left t’ talk to..least when your father died, y’ ‘ad me an’ Erina ‘round t’ ‘elp ya through it…but..you ‘re all I had left…I just..just couldn’ take it..”

Jonathan’s stern gaze shifted into one of empathy and understanding as he listened to Speedwagon’s words. The frown on his face looked almost heart-broken to hear the raw pain and emotion in his friend’s voice. “……” He reached back over with the hand that had previously been slapped away and placed it on Speedwagon’s back, making it much easier to pull the shorter man into his embrace. After adjusting Speedwagon’s compliant body so that the other man was seated with his body facing Jonathan while his forehead rested on Jonathan’s shoulder, he began to soothingly stroke his hand along his friend’s back. “What did you want to say?”

Speedwagon did not move from his position, taking in the comfort of Jonathan’s firm touch along his back and the strong arms wrapped around him so tenderly. “Huh..?”

“You said that you had things you wished to say to me but thought you would be unable to.” Jonathan explained calmly. “Well..I am here now..I am listening, if you wish to say anything.”

“What’s it matter?” Speedwagon spoke with a feeling of lamentation and hopelessness. “You’re jus’ gonna leave me ‘gain, anyway…”

There were so many things he wished he could say in that moment:

“I don’t want ya t’ leave again.”

“You changed me life in so many ways an’ made me a better person jus’ for knowin’ ya.”

“I want t’ stay by your side for the rest of me life.”

“I love you…”

Yes, so many things he desperately wanted to say. But, what would be the point? Why confess such powerful things when the end result would still be the same? He may as well just take those words to the grave with him instead of ruining what little image he still had in the noble Joestar’s eyes-

“I will not leave you.” Jonathan stated firmly, startling Speedwagon out of his thoughts.

Speedwagon could only look up at Jonathan in disbelief. Had he heard him correctly, or was it merely wishful thinking? “What? Jojo, what..what did ya just say..?”

“I said ‘I will not leave you’, Speedwagon.” Jonathan repeated, looking Speedwagon dead in the eyes as he spoke. “Because of you, I have realized some very important things that I must both thank and apologize to you for.” The gaze with which Jonathan held Speedwagon’s eyes was full of warmth and affection, but also gratitude as well as guilt.

Speedwagon was still in shock. What could someone like him have done to earn such a look from one such as Jonathan Joestar? “I ‘ave..?”

“Indeed you have, my friend.” Jonathan replied with that same look, never once looking away from Speedwagon’s eyes as he spoke to make sure his words were not missed. “Firstly, I must apologize for the pain I have caused you. While I had no say in the manner of my first ‘death’, it still caused you great pain and suffering..pain and suffering that I risked causing again with my second ‘death’. That was not fair to you at all..I do hope you can forgive me for my selfishness..”

Speedwagon was absolutely floored. Never, in all his years, did he think that HE, of all people, would warrant such a heart-felt apology from a man as great as Jonathan Joestar. His cheeks managed to flush just a little bit, his hand instinctively reaching up to pull his hat down to hide his face, but he merely ended up patting his own hair as his hat was currently missing. He tried to recover his image by moving his hand back along his hair, acting as if it was his intention all along to simply move some stray locks from his face..which, admittedly, only made things worse as it meant there was nothing to hide his pinked cheeks now.

“Y-Y’ don’t have t’ go apologizin’ t’ the likes o’ me for that, Jojo..” He looked down at his lap, trying not to feel so embarrassed but failing horribly at it. “Like y’ said, it wasn’t your fault wha’ ‘appened on the ship..’s not like y’ knew I’d react the way I did..”

Jonathan gazed at him silently for a moment, Speedwagon completely oblivious to the adoring look the other was giving him. “That may be true, but I still should have taken your feelings into account. You are a truly amazing, caring individual, Speedwagon..I owe you a great deal for helping me realize the error of my ways.”

Speedwagon sputtered for a bit before looking back up at Jonathan. “I-b-wha-?!” He quickly shook his head. “A-As I said, Mr.Joestar, ya didn’ do nothin’ wrong! Y’ don’t owe me nothin’!”

Jonathan chuckled softly, good-naturedly, at his friend’s reaction before setting a large but gentle hand on the blonde’s shoulder to calm him down so he could speak. “But I do, Speedwagon.” His smile softened, looking almost wistful. “When I arrived here, it was with the intention of saying my goodbyes so that I could pass on from this world. I truly believed that was all I wanted- to say a few last words before ending my own life.” He glanced away for a moment, frowning a bit. “I thought my decisions noble and righteous- the duty of a man trying to protect those he cared for..but..I realize now that, in truth, they were truly born from my own fear and selfishness.” He sighed and closed his eyes, looking more ashamed than Speedwagon had ever seen him. “I was desperate to hold onto that heroic, kind-hearted, noble image that so many knew me for..I was afraid that if anyone saw me as I am now they would think me no better than Dio..and..honestly..I feared that they would be right..I was so afraid of losing my humanity to this accursed power that I thought I had no other choice left but to sacrifice myself…” He opened his eyes and looked back to Speedwagon once more, slowly regaining that soft smile from before. “But..you..you selflessly put your life on the line to show me what I should have seen all along: This power does not define me. If I want to hold on to my virtues and humanity, then all I need to do is fight for it- to fight it as I have many other seemingly unsurpassable foes.” He took Speedwagon’s smaller hands in both of his much larger ones, a look of adoration and gratitude clear in his eyes. “I truly cannot thank you enough, dear Speedwagon. If not for you, I would not be here right now, looking forward to another day of life. You have my eternal gratitude.”

Speedwagon certainly felt overwhelmed by Jonathan’s heart-felt confession. His cheeks turned the tiniest bit pink from having Jonathan hold his hands in such a caring way and he couldn’t contain the smile on his face even if he’d tried as he looked down at their joined hands. “Heh..well, then consider us even, Jojo. Meetin’ you certainly changed MY life, too. Don’ think I’d be ‘alf the man I am right now if not for you. So..” He looked back up at Jonathan, meeting his eyes with a bright smile. “ ‘ow ‘bout we continue pushin’ each other forward t’ bein’ better men one day at a time?”

Jonathan responded in kind with a bright smile of his own, squeezing Speedwagon’s hands in affirmation. “That sounds like a wonderful idea to me!”

<-First Chapter Next Chapter->

#jonawagon #jonathan joestar #Robert E O Speedwagon #vampire!au #canon divergence #vampire!jonathan #jojo no kimyou na bouken

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theghostofashton · 6 years

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“you have nothing to be sorry for.”

i love this one. it was a spur of the moment idea and then this monster happened.

heavy trigger warnings for suicide, anxiety/panic attacks, and self-harm. enjoy.

This tour is going to be good.

He's speaking it into existence, breathing the words out and pressing them into his skin, forcing them to take root at the base of his chest and blossom, extend themselves beyond their breath for when the inevitable bad days won't leave him to rest.

This tour is going to be good. It's going to be different than last time. He's going to be different than last time. Gone are the countless nights crying himself to sleep in his bunk, waking up amidst grease and tangled sheets and trying to sort out where one day bled into the next while everything culminated to force him into a wreck.

And he was.

He was a wreck, last tour. He was heartbroken and barely spoken, rendering himself to the bus and his bunk after every show. He didn't go out and meet fans, he didn't go on adventures to find not-shit food with Otto, he didn't call or text or even talk to his mom, until she called Jawn in a panic and a phone screen was shoved in his face to prove to her he was still alive.

He felt bad about it. He still does. He thinks about those months and the place he was in and the thoughts that ran through his head, thinks about how he could've been meeting fans and talking to people and connecting with his friends, instead of not being able to stop crying and spending every night wishing he was dead.

The headspace he was in on that tour takes the cake for the worst. No competition. Second place is eons in the other direction. There was never a time, not even when the band wasn't gaining traction like he thought it would and the dream he'd risked everything for wasn't turning out like he thought it could, that he genuinely wanted to kill himself.

He's thought about it before. What he'd use. How it'd happen. Everything that he'd say to his family after. He's thought about writing the note and just going through with it, fuck it, this is too much. They always tell you to 'push through' and wait till it gets better and I've tried and I've waited and nothing's happened. So I'm just done.

He's been close, but nothing will ever compare to how close he came on that tour. Nothing will ever come close to breaking open his razors and pressing metal to flesh – horizontal, for a while, because he was too much of a pussy to go all in vertical – watching the crimson stream down his skin and finally letting himself take a breath. It was like everything had built up and pummeled itself into one cup, a jar of panic that propelled itself to seemingly unreachable heights, until it was pouring over and spilling out and manifesting itself in those ruby trails.

He didn't think it would be enough. He didn't think tearing himself open and watching his pain bleed through would be the push he needed to stew out the rest of the tour. He didn't think he'd be able to see her with her new guy and hold himself together until they got home, until he could shrink back into his quiet blue tomb and let everything out. He didn't think he could hold on until they got home.

He didn't think he could hold on at all.

But razor blades and tears in his skin, gritting his teeth and feeling it all release from within...he was hurting and then he wasn't and he could tuck in his sweater and grab his guitar and pretend the rest was okay. He could pretend it wasn't killing him from the inside out, pretend he didn't feel like his heart had cracked to pieces and the last ones were still bleeding, pretend like he didn't want his still-beating something to not beat anymore.

He got through it.

He moped up the blood and pressed band-aids into each bullet hole, layered tape on gashes that needed stitches and wrapped his arms around himself, it's almost over. it's almost over. you've almost done it. it's almost over.

He was in pain but he was surviving and he lived right until he didn't need to concentrate on that anymore. He lived through the last night, through the tangled lights and 3am fights, lived until he sank back into the four walls of his tomb and broke all over again.

And eventually, things started to look up. The pain plants started to wither. Days didn't feel like death row anymore. He wasn't better but he was getting there. Little by little, day by day, the fragments of his chest were starting to migrate back to each other, piece themselves together once again, chipped and torn, stitched and bandaged, but whole, nonetheless.

He had the scars to show for it – quite literally, to be exact – but he was alive. He was still breathing, in spite of the countless nights he spent wishing not to be. His still-beating something was still-beating. Miraculously, honestly. He wished he could've torn it from his chest and smashed it to the ground far too many times, because that's what it felt like every time he thought about her and what she'd done and the plans they'd had and the reality she'd ruined.

The scars have healed.

The broken part of him is coming back together.

He hasn't cut himself in almost a year.

This tour is going to be so good.

...

"Aws, you coming? We're about to leave!"

"Yeah, be there in a sec!" He reaches for his wallet and shoves his keys into his pocket, and then turns to the pile of (unwashed) clothing at the foot of his bunk. He needs to separate it out and decide what desperately needs washing when they get to the next hotel, but that's not going to be for a good few days. Otto and Jawn want to leave now.

He rifles through the sweatshirts and jackets, tosses them all to the side and digs further into the pile. It's above 80 today. This kind of heat is a rare bird in the middle of October, but he's not complaining. He would much rather be sweating his ass off than physically unable to get warm.

"Awsten!"

"Coming!" In his haste, he grabs a muscle tank and yanks it over his head, smoothes the fabric out and pulls his phone out from under the pillow. He doesn't think twice about it as he makes his way out of the bunk area, jumps off the last step and joins Jawn and Otto – oh, and Geoff's joined them – outside.

He takes his phone out of his pocket as he walks up, lifts an arm to swing around Jawn's shoulders. "Where'd y'all wanna go again?"

"The mall, over there." Otto motions to a building in the distance. "Grace wanted me ta see if they had..." He continues, but Awsten turns away, faces Jawn and plasters the smile back onto his face.

"You wanna see if there's a music store in there?"

"Sure," Jawn replies. This tour is going to be good. This tour is going to be good. Don't go there. You're better than that. This tour is going to be good.

He stretches his arms up over his head as they walk, pushing them outward to extend his back fully. The sun is beating warmly on his chest. He smiles and inhales heavily, feels the breath travel through him and ease out.

When he turns back to his friends, he stops.

They're staring at him.

He doesn't think much of Otto doing it – they have a few of those inside jokes; blowing on the back of each other's necks, drawing on exposed skin with sharpie while the other is sleeping, trying to do pushups with one another on their backs...he wouldn't be surprised if 'stare at the other creepily until you blink' adds itself to the list.

"Uh...what's going on?" He says the words slowly, takes a step to the side and tests – what the fuck, they're not even looking at...he follows their gazes down his body, all the way to his- no. Fuck.

He stops.

fuck.

The muscle tee the fucking muscle tee why did you wear that what the fuck were you thinking they know they all know everyone knows-

"Aws." Jawn finds his voice first. "Hey, don't-"

He can't do this.

He can't be here he can't have this conversation he can't talk about this right now please no fuckfuckfuck-

His heart is pounding, pumping bucketfuls of panic through his veins with every beat. Each growing second feels like another dose injected into his bloodstream, like he's too full but the weight of the world is determined to push itself into his body. Everything is spinning and it's all happening so fast and he doesn't know what to do he doesn't know where to go he doesn't know anything he can't breathe anymore he doesn't-

He trips over his feet and stumbles as he turns, glances at the bus and the open stretch of road on the other side. There are voices from behind, hands reaching for him and grasping at his back. Don't touch me I can't do this not now pleasepleaseplease-

He runs.

His legs feel like separate entities; he's not entirely sure how they're still moving because everything is detached and nothing is fitting properly and he can't deal with everything every switch has been flipped the peace is gone it happened so fast he thought he was getting better he thought he wouldn't do this anymore he thought he was done with this he thought-

He runs until he can't anymore, until it feels like the contents of his stomach will surge up his throat if he goes another step. It's the kind of feeling you get while running the mile in PE, that overwhelming stickiness and heaviness in your chest, feeling like it's nausea rather than blood being pumped into your veins, knowing that you have to keep going, because if you stop you're going to puke. His heart is racing and the stingers are pressing into his lower abdomen, cramping up his entire side.

They know his secret.

They saw his arms.

They know everything.

stupid stupid stupid so fucking stupid you were doing so well you hid it so fucking well and now it's ruined it's all fucking ruined now how does that make you feel you ruined it they know they know how weak you are they know how pathetic you are they fucking know all of it they know they know they-

"N-no," he forces out. He can't get ahold of his breathing. Every new gulp of air feels like his last, like he's ingesting poison rather than oxygen. "S-Stop."

He's in near a building. He knows that much. He lets his body fall against the large structure, relaxes his muscles and backs his heels into the wall. He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know how far he ran. He doesn't know whether any of them followed him. It's all a blur and everything is mixing together messily and he can't do it he can't breathe through it it's happening it hurts everything hurts it won't stop please stop fuckfuckfuck-

weak pathetic fucking baby you're so fucking stupid they're gonna hate you for this they were never supposed to find out and they wouldn't if you hadn't been so fucking careless-

He kept it a secret for almost a year, spent all of fucking Warped Tour layering himself in sweaters and almost passing out from heatstroke, made up excuse after excuse of why he didn't wanna go swimming, I just dyed my hair, chlorine's gonna ruin it; I feel kinda nauseous, I don't think the pool's gonna help; I just wanna get a tan today, y'know? I'm pale as fuck and I hate it.

He was so careful.

Everything was going so well.

And then he had to go and fuck it up he had to go and ruin everything they're gonna hate you they're not gonna wanna talk to you anymore good luck keeping any of them as friends.

No one has time for this no one wants to deal with this no one wants to deal with you don't you see don't you get that you already ruined things with her and now they're gonna leave too everyone's gonna leave you'll be all alone they're not gonna wanna deal with this who wants to deal with something like this who would want that responsibility you're not their responsibility you're no one's responsibility you're no one-

No one-

He swallows against the sob, feels it try once again to push at the barrier between his mouth and throat, but forces it back down. The pouch of ache is pressing against his forehead, extending down to his eyes and ramming itself against bone. It's about to pop and splatter. Everything hurts.

He didn't know this was possible.

He didn't know it was possible to transition so fast, to go from peace to panic in five seconds flat. He was fine and then he wasn't, bright and warm and happy, drain to dark and cold and broken, in an instant.

He was rebuilding.

He has been, over the past year. Piecing back together the fragments of his chest and feeling like he was on the road to whole again, feeling like he could finally put this hellforsaken year behind him and move on to the brighter and warmer and happier. The puzzle pieces of his bones were finally starting to fit. It was all becoming okay again.

it was all becoming okay again-

And now it's like a hammer was sent through, hurtling forward at such a speed that it crashed straight into the fragile structure and embedded itself in delicate bone, smashed it to the ground and landed with a thump amongst the debris.

And he is broken again.

...

He isn't sure where he's going.

He isn't even sure where to look.

His heart is pounding and his head is spinning, what the fuck just happened is this real life is this really happening right now AwstenAwstenAwsten-

He saw scars on both his wrists. They stretched up, extended halfway down his forearms, stark and dark against his skin. He was too far away to get a close up view, too far back to see how deep or how wide or how many times his best friend took a sharp object to his skin that he didn't know about.

How many times did this happen-

How long was he doing it-

He doesn't remember seeing any red marks, nothing white or red or fresh. The scars were there but none of them were new and he hopes that's good news. He hopes Awsten isn't still doing it.

He hopes he isn't that much of an awful friend.

Geoff and Otto are trying Awsten's phone over and over, but he kept sending them to voicemail. He's not okay. He's not okay right now, and from the looks of things, he hasn't been in a very long time. He hasn't been and he hasn't said anything and they haven't done anything and he's been forced to suffer and the mere thought makes Jawn's stomach turn.

How many nights was he cutting himself how long was he suffering on his own how long did they not know how long-

He's coming up at a rest area, not too far away from the mall they'd stopped at before. Awsten couldn't have run any farther. This has to be it. He has to be here.

He sees the flash of purple hair at the back of the building. He's the only one back there and he looks so small, so tiny pressed up against the massive brick wall. He has his knees pulled to his chest and his head resting against the flat surface.

He makes his way up to where Awsten is sitting and bites his lip; watches as Awsten continues to scratch at his wrist, dig his nails in and drag them across vigorously. It doesn't seem like he's noticed him yet.

"Hey, no." He drops to his knees, feels the ache but ignores it, reaches forward to separate Awsten's hands and encircles his wrists with his fingers. Awsten makes a noise, a cross between a whimper and a cough, and looks at him. His eyes are wide. His chest is heaving. The breaths he manages to get in are choked and jagged. They leave him panting even more.

"Whoa, okay," He tightens his grip on Awsten's wrists and meets his gaze. "You're okay, Aws. Try to breathe. Just focus on that. Deep breaths, alright? You've got it."

Awsten coughs, inhales too fast and chokes on the breath, squeezes his eyes shut and wheezes. Jawn curses under his breath and takes both Awsten's wrists in one hand, reaches forward and uses the other to rub Awsten's chest. "You're doing good. Keep breathing. Just like that, see? You're okay."

"J-Jawn..." His voice is already shot. It breaks a few times on the single word. "I-I..."

"You're okay," he repeats. He keeps a hold on Awsten's wrists as he turns around and scoots backward to press his own body against the wall, next to Awsten. He wraps his free arm around Awsten's shoulders and draws him into his body. Awsten is stiff in his hold, motionless. "Focus on your breathing. It's all okay."

"I'm sorry..." Awsten moves his gaze to his feet. "I didn't- you were never supposed ta find out..."

"Why? We- I could've helped you."

"You couldn't."

"Aws-"

Awsten shakes his head. "That tour was so bad. And I always say that; when someone brings it up, like, yeah, worst tour of my life, for sure, but I don't- no one knows, truly, how bad it was for me. I just- I got so bad and I didn't say anything to anyone because I didn't want y'all ta have to deal with it."

His voice is still weak. His body is falling, against Jawn. He's too tired to hold himself up. Jawn sighs and nudges his head onto his shoulder, tightens his grip around Awsten's shoulders and squeezes.

"Let's get one thing straight, okay?" He says. "Look at me." He waits until he has Awsten's eyes before continuing, "I don't "deal"-" He pauses to make the air quotes with his free hand. "With you. You're not an obligation. I don't "have" to put up with you. I want to. You're my best friend, Aws. You know that."

"I know, I just-" Awsten cuts himself off with a shuddery sigh. "I just- didn't wanna put my shit on you, I guess? It wasn't yours ta deal with. It was my fault I couldn't handle her leaving me."

"She cheated on you," he deadpans. "Y'all had everything planned, like she was forever, and the bitch went and fucked someone else. You had a damn right to be a mess over that. You still do."

"I guess..." Awsten flips his wrists over and holds his arms out. "Maybe I did. But this was my problem. Not yours. You didn't need the responsibility of looking after the fuckin' basket case."

He inhales heavily and closes his eyes.

He hates this.

He hates when Awsten does this, already makes up his mind about how much of an awful person he is and seals the sentiment into the depths of his chest. He's already set on it, stamped it into his skin and internalized it. It's like a tattoo. Removal is painful and excessively time consuming.

"You weren't a basket case, okay?" He breathes out. "You were hurting. She shattered your world. I was so worried about you, christ...I wanted ta help, dude. I wanted to be there. And you didn't let me. And now I find out you were fuckin' cutting yourself? What the hell, Aws?"

Awsten is quiet for a few moments. He turns his head against Jawn's shoulder and breathes out warmly into his skin, stays there for a while and keeps breathing, in, and out. In, and out. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

"She didn't wanna deal with it." Awsten's voice is so small when he finally speaks. "I used ta tell her, some nights on Face Time, how bad I was and how hard it was getting, and she just- she'd make an excuse, say she got called last minute to set or someone was at the door, but I- I knew. She didn't wanna deal with me. She'd just stop answering my calls sometimes. It was too much. I was too much."

"Awsten-" How fucking dare she what she fuck is wrong with her how dare she ever make him feel like that he'll kill her he'll kill her he'll fucking kill her what the fuck-

"I haven't done it in months, promise." He glances over at Jawn briefly. "These scars are all over eight months old."

Jawn nods, doesn't speak, waist for Awsten to say more because he knows there is more.

"I wanted to die." Awsten's voice is so thick. His eyes are cast down as he traces his finger over some of the white scars. "God, I spent so long wishing I could just slice vertical and be done. Was always too much of a fuckin' pussy ta do it. And I didn't have anything else and I just needed ta feel something, besides all the hurt in my head, and it- it helped. It felt good. I felt better. 'Cause, like, if she didn't wanna deal with my shit, why would you guys?" He pauses. His voice breaks on the next words. "And I knew- I could handle her leaving. It fucked me up for a long time and I lost a lot, but- I could handle it. I couldn't handle you. Or Geoff. Or Otto." A dry sob cuts through. "I couldn't handle you doing it. And I couldn't take the risk."

"Awsten..." He reaches around and Awsten's body falls limp, head flopping onto his chest. He pulls Awsten into his lap and hugs him tight, presses as close as humanely possible and squeezes. "You fucking idiot. I'm not going anywhere, okay? No matter what. Nothing you could ever do would make me wanna leave you. That's a promise." His own eyes are misty. He drops a kiss against the crown of Awsten's head. "I love you too much."

Awsten cries.

...

They make their way back to the bus soon enough.

Awsten protests at first, starts to cry all over again, what if they're mad what if they hate me I don't wanna disappoint them I- and he sighs, pulls him into another hug and holds on tight, they love you. No one's mad at you, I promise. We're all just worried. We want you to be okay.

He doesn't forget the little I'm not, that slips from Awsten's lips in response, probably meant to be muttered under his breath but not quite quiet enough for that.

Awsten grips onto his arm and slows them down as they reach the tour bus, starts to protest as he turns the handle and opens the door. "It's gonna be fine, okay? They love you. They're not gonna be mad."

"What if they are?" Awsten demands. "What if you're wrong what if they are what if they hate me I-" He chokes on the rest of the words and coughs wetly. His eyes are watering and the tears are starting to spill down his cheeks again. "I'm not okay I can't do this I'm not I-"

"Aws?" Geoff is standing in the doorway. Jawn reaches out and pushes the door open completely, meets Geoff's eyes and gives a pointed glance toward Awsten, who now has his waist in a death grip and is ducking his head to avoid Geoff's eyes. "Hey, whoa, where'd you run off too?"

Jawn moves at the same time he does, transfers Awsten into his arms and steps back to watch Geoff hug him tightly.

"S-Sorry, I'm s-sorry..." Awsten stutters. His voice keeps breaking. Tears are pouring down his cheeks and his breathing is coming in pants. "I didn't mean to, I- sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Geoff rubs his back and presses a kiss against his hair. He nudges Awsten back to hold him at arm's length and look him up and down a couple times, before he brings him back into his chest. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"You're not mad?" The question shoots forward, grabs onto his heart and yanks off a piece of it, eclipses a tiny hunk of muscle in its claws and crushes it between them.

"We're not mad," Jawn speaks up. He takes a step forward and latches onto Awsten from behind. "We wish you would've told us earlier because we could've helped, but no one is mad at you, Aws. I promise."

"I wasn't okay," Awsten mumbles. "And I just- I'm finally starting to feel like myself again but I'm so scared all the time and everything's just different and it hurts and I'm so fucking sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jawn repeats, voice right next to Awsten's ear. "Nothing."

"We're gonna get through this, alright?" Geoff adds. "You're gonna be okay."

Awsten sounds so small when he speaks again. "This tour was supposed ta be good. And I just-"

"Oh, dude, you kiddin' me?" he hears himself say. "It will be." He drops his voice a few notches and whispers the next words. "It will be. This is your 'get better' tour. You're gonna be okay."

"You're gonna be okay."

Awsten smiles.

#i have no idea how this happened #4.2k words when i have way too many school things to do neha ur priorities are not straight rn #but i highkey love how this came out tbh #waterparks fanfiction #awsten knight #geoff wigington #jawn rocha #neha writes

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emo-nerd-blog1 · 6 years

Text

Just Deal With It Chapter 2

Warning! This chapter deals with self-harm and attempted suicide, read at your own risk. I also want to just make a little side note; there will be a “face reveal” for Flug and how I describe his face is just how I picture it. Alright, thanks! Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Flug was tired of this. He was tired of the abuse. He was tired of the hits and the screams. He was tired of his shitty life. He just wanted to end.

That’s when he got the idea. He could end it. He had plenty of reasons why he wanted to and he had an entire laboratory full of weapons he could use. A sad grin made its way to Flug’s face as stood up from the bathroom floor and walked into his lab. Walking to the door, he slammed it shut and locked.

Flug gently walked over to his small bed that he had in the corner of his lab, which he barely used as Black Hat made him work without sleep constantly, and sat down. He needed to think about this carefully. How was he going to do this? Should he make a mess or try to go out as clean as possible?

He didn’t know. Sure throughout his life, he had been plenty depressed and full of anxiety, but this is the first time he really was going to do something this drastic.

Just then, a knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes widened thinking it might be Black Hat back for another round at him but his nerves were calmed as he heard the gentle scratches of 5.0.5.

Flug sighed and stood up and walked over to the door opening it. “Can I help you 5.0.5?” He asked peeking out the door. If he was going to miss anyone, it would probably be 5.0.5, he really was like a giant teddy bear.

5.0.5 gently tilted his head as he looked at Flug, he could sense something was wrong with him but he just figured that he was just tired, like always. 5.0.5 gently pointed at the clock showing Flug that it was dinner time.

Flug was honestly just about to say no to going to dinner, but he was afraid Black Hat might be mad at him for missing it so he reluctantly went. Though, with what he was planning, he didn’t’ have much of an appetite.

The two of them walked down the hall and entered the dining room where a long table that would normally sit about 30 people sat Black Hat and Demencia. Black Hat sitting at the head as always and Demencia on his right.

“There you two are,” Black Hat mumbled, “Took you long enough.”

“S-Sorry S-sir.” Flug stuttered out before walking to his normal seat on Black Hat’s left with 5.0.5 next to Demencia.

Black Hat only grunted and Flug looked down at his lap. He wanted to be unsure about the whole thing, he wanted to think that Black Hat would change and take Flug into his arms and tell him he was sorry, for everything.

But he couldn’t deny reality anymore. Flug was only Black Hat’s toy.

Once again he was snapped out of his thoughts as a plate was set in front of him with food on it. He gently picked up his fork and picked at his food. He really wasn’t hungry and even the little nibbles that he took made him feel sick.

“Something wrong Doctor?” Black Hat’s whisper made him look up. Black Hat looked at him with a neutral face but with a hint of gentleness in his eyes.

Flug shrugged and continued to pick at his food. “Not too hungry.” He mumbled back.

“Are you sure that’s-” Black Hat reached his hand out to place on Flug’s shoulder but Flug only flinched away making Black Hat slowly pull his hand away.

“I’m fine…” Flug insisted once again before shoving a large piece of meat into his mouth and swallowing it almost having to hold back any puke that may try to surface.

Black Hat was silent before going back to his own food leaving Flug with his thoughts. Flug was still having an inner debate whether he should do it or not but the side telling him to do it was winning. His eyes scanned his plate and noticed the untouched knife next to an empty glass of water he had been drinking. Glancing up at the others at the table, he felt relief as they were distracted before he quickly snatched the knife and slide it into his inner lab coat pocket.

“I-I think…I"m g-going to get b-back to work, s-sir.” Flug stuttered standing up taking his plate and walking away before anyone could get a word out.

He rushed to his room and slammed the door shut locking it. Taking the plate in his hands, he quickly threw it away into the trash and sat down on his bed. His hand trembled softly as he took the knife out of his pocket. He was going to do it. He was tired of the games. He was tired of Black Hat beating the shit out of him one minute then acting like he cared the next. He couldn’t take it anymore.

But if he was gonna die, he was gonna do things his way. He took a breath and stood up taking off his lab coat and folded it neatly. He set it down on his desk then walked back to his bed laying down. He took a deep breath and brought his hands up and took off his brown paper bag from his head.

It was an odd sensation, the air against his pale face, but he wasn’t going to back down now. He set his bag down on his nightstand and gently ran his hands over his face gently wincing as he felt the bruises and cuts from Black Hat’s beatings. His arms were also coated with bruises. His brown hair was a mess and his eyes were lifeless and looked gray.

He sighed and his arms fell to his sides. His hand quickly found the knife and he lifted his left wrist. He took a deep breath and lifted the blade to his skin and put pressure down cutting into the skin choking out as pain entered his system as blood started to flow out of the open cut on his wrist.

He couldn’t stop the tears that filled his eyes as he let out sobs and cried letting the blood flow from his wrist. He shakily put the knife in the other hand and did the same thing to his other hand before dropping the knife onto the floor. Sobs escaped his lips as he laid on his bed in his own blood before his world went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Black Hat watched as Flug left. Something was up with him. More than usual. He understood that the scientist was full of anxiety and stress, but this looks like something more. And he was determined to find out what.

Was it him…? Black Hat bit his lip softly, he knew that he had been a little…rough…on Flug, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. He was never good at holding his temper. Black Hat gently sighed and stood up walking into the kitchen putting his plate into the sink. He needed to talk to Flug.

He nodded to himself and made his way down to Flug’s lab and tried to push the door open only to find it locked.

“Flug?” Black Hat called out but got no answer. “Flug open the door.”

Black Hat tried the door once more before pressing his ear to the door and his eye widened hearing soft whimpers.

He quickly smashed the door open and he burst inside his eyes getting even wider as he saw Flug laying on his bed and in a pool of his own blood. “F-Flug!” Black Hat cried out and ran over. Flug was very pale and was only making weak noises letting Black Hat know he was still alive but almost dead.

Black Hat quickly looked around and grabbed some cloth and quickly wrapped them around Flug’s wrists to stop the bleeding. Then placing his hands on Flug’s wounds, he healed him leaving two scars in the cuts place.

Black Hat panted quietly and his hands shook softly. He then gently lifted up and picked Flug up taking him out of his lab and to Black Hat’s own room.

Black Hat changed Flug out of his bloody clothes and into something more comfortable before laying him down on his bed and crawling in with him holding him tight “Please…Don’t leave me.” Black Hat whispered before closing his eyes ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flug wanted darkness. He wanted freedom from the pain. He thought he finally escaped. So why was he waking up?

His eyes gently fluttered open slightly before shooting open all the way. He gasped and sat up looking around. “No no no no no no no no…” He stuttered out looking down at his wrists and seeing healing scars. Why couldn’t things go his way for once?! Why couldn’t he just die!?

Tears filled his eyes as he let out sobs curling into a small ball before a voice snapped him to attention.

“Flug?” Black Hat asked sitting up and gently taking his wrists into his hands gently looking at the crying scientist. “Flug its okay, you’re okay.”

The scientist was only filled with rage as he yelled at Black Hat, tears in his eyes. “Why couldn’t you let me die?! Do you enjoy torturing me!? Y-You really are the evilest man in the world!” Flug sobbed.

Black Hat was taken back by this. He blinked and gently reached out to comfort Flug. “Flug…wh-” He was easily cut off by Flug slapping his hand away.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t your dare ask ‘What did I do?’ Cause you know exactly what you did!” Flug pulled off his shirt and Black Hat’s eyes widened. So many bruises… And he caused them all.

He was so wrapped up in making sure Flug was okay he didn’t notice the bruises.

“I-I"m sick and tired of the abuse! I-I’ve lived my entire life being abused and I"m drawing the line! I-I’m sick of it!” Flug shouted before he broke down curling into a ball and sobbing.

Black Hat was honestly disgusted…with himself.

He turned his smart little Flug into a suicidal mess. HE did this. It was HIS fault.

“Flug…” Black Hat whispered gently wrapped his arms around him. Flug struggled but Black Hat wouldn’t let go and only stroked his back and held his close shushing him.

“Flug…there is no excuse for what I’ve done…I’ve hurt the ONLY good thing that I allowed in my life…” He sighed and held Flug tighter. “I know I"m the worst with my temper…but that is no excuse for what I"ve done to you…Nothing will ever make it up…I didn’t want to be one of the monsters you were afraid of anymore….but instead, I only put more fear…I-I"m sorry…” Black Hat looked like he was about to cry himself.

Flug gently looked up at Black Hat as he spoke. More tears streamed down his face. Black Hat looked at him with soft eyes and kissed him softly rubbing his back and petting his hair. Flug gently kissed back and sniffed.

Flug didn’t have to 'Just Deal with It’ anymore.

#dr flug #dr flug x black hat #black hat #villainous

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anytaintedcreature · 6 years

Text

Once Upon A Dream (2/?)

Honored Luminary. Last Prince of Dundrasil. Rowan has many names, and doesn’t feel he’s lived up to any of them, what with the hole in the sky where the World Tree once bloomed, and a victory that feels hollow in the aftermath. When he’s offered a chance to do it all over again, he doesn’t have much of a choice. He’s the Luminary, and his life isn’t his own to live, and he’s about to learn just how much is lost when one loses time.

Canon Divergence AU: Yggdrasil never returns to life after Mordegon’s fall, and the Luminary returns to a former place in time with an interesting new ability that might prove to be more of a curse than a blessing.

Rating: T

AO3 & Tumblr (P)

***

Chapter 1: Au Revoir

Today I'm not myself And you, you're someone else And all these rules don't fit And all that starts can quit What a peculiar state, we're in

Before

Erik broke the surface of the water with a gasp. Water ran in rivulets from his hair down his cheeks, and when he felt the sunlight soak his skin for the first time in months, a grin pulled up the corners of his mouth, slightly manic in its intensity.

He’d been in the dark a long time.

He took a deep breath and held it in, staring up at the sun for a moment until his eyes burned before letting it out. “That was something, Luminary. What, I don’t know, but - shit,” he broke off, catching sight of the boy in question, face down in the water not too far off to his side.

“No, come on,” Erik splashed over to him as quickly as the water would allow and took hold of his shoulders, flipping him upright. “Don’t do this to me,” he begged, anxiety spiking into a very real fear.

He couldn't take care of anyone.

Erik towed the boy to shore, careful to keep his head lolling above water even as he swallowed mouthfuls of it himself. He tugged him up onto the bank and pressed his ear to the still boy’s lips, and cursed before pounding a fist against his chest.

“No, no, breathe, damn it! Please.”

With another desperate smack, the Luminary gasped and choked, his eyes flying wide open.

Erik breathed with him. He helped turn him over, running his palm up the other boy’s back as he coughed and spat river water out of his lungs.

“There, that’s better,” he soothed. His voice was shakier than he’d like, but as he slumped back to sit in the sand, his hand between his companion’s shoulder blades and counting his heartbeats, he couldn’t quite summon up the will to care.

“I can’t decide if you’re lucky or just the opposite, Luminary,” Erik said, once his heart had slowed from a merciless drum beat to something more manageable, and the roaring in his ears died away.

The boy rested his forehead on his knees, taking deep, shuddering breaths. Erik realized he was still rubbing slow strokes up and down his spine, and yanked his hand back.

Beside him, his companion muttered something.

“Didn’t catch that,” Erik replied, turning his face up to the sun and letting his eyes fall closed for a moment.

He glanced back over as the Luminary slumped backward with a thud. “Rowan,” he murmured, his lips barely moving to shape the word. “It’s Rowan.” His eyes slid shut, and he fell silent once more.

Erik felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards into a smile. “Rowan, then,” he said softly, trying it out. When he didn’t get a reply, Erik looked down at his companion, hesitating only a moment before leaning in close.

Out like a light, he decided, but still breathing.

Erik heaved a sigh before clambering to his feet. He reached down and slipped an arm around Rowan’s waist, and gingerly pulled the boy to his feet. He was soaking wet and absolute dead weight, but his skin was warm where it touched Erik’s, and he figured he could bear his weight, for a little while. He’d carried heavier burdens before, after all.

“Put your faith in the Luminary,” Erik echoed on a grunt as he took a step forward, and Rowan’s head rolled to press against his neck. “I’d say we’re off to a swell start.”

***

When Rowan opened his eyes, for a moment all he saw was blue.

A cloud rolled slowly across the sky, and a cool breeze played over his face, ruffling through his hair. He sat up and looked around, and felt his stomach turn over.

He was in a field, right outside the gates of Arboria, with the Sword of Shadows lying in the grass alongside his legs. Most telling of all was Yggdrasil, high overhead and standing tall and proud, and alive.

For a moment, he was dumbfounded. He’d actually done it.

He’d gone back in time. He wasn’t lost to the void, his soul doomed to haunt shadows in a broken world. He’d arrived where he was meant to, and the thought had him staggering to his feet, pulling the giant dark sword up with him.

If Yggdrasil was back, that meant someone else was, too.

Rowan took the steps three at a time, his breath coming in short pants by the time he’d reached the fountain in the town’s heart. He was drawing some puzzled stares, he knew, but the onlookers didn’t stop him as he mounted the rest of the stairs leading up to the Cathedral. Palms planted on the door, he drew in a breath and held it as he shoved the doors open, his heart pounding hard against the cage of his ribs.

He looked around the room so frantically he almost missed her, down on her knees in the center of the marble, red-clad head bent low.

Goddess above, but there she was.

“Oh Serenica, blessed ancestor. The time has come at last for us to fulfill our destiny,” Veronica was speaking, her voice soft but clearly audible in the silence of the temple, and he could barely feel his legs as he came to a stop several feet behind her,

She was alive, close enough that it would only take him scant steps to reach her and pull her in, and hold on tight. The urge to do so was nearly smothering.

She’d almost certainly hit him if he did so, he was sure, and he stuffed his fist against his mouth to cover the small, slightly hysterical sound that had managed to break free.

Veronica lept to her feet, arms spread wide, and for a moment he thought she’d realized his presence. She tipped her face up to the light and continued her prayer, and for the first time, it occurred to Rowan that he might be intruding on a private moment.

“But no matter what happens, I swear I won’t let the Luminary come to harm!” She continued on, unaware of her audience, and Rowan felt his heart lurch.

You didn't, he thought, not caring a whit for the stinging tears that blurred his vision.

“He’s our light and our hope, and he’ll rid our world of darkness. I know he will!”

He didn’t feel like he deserved her faith, before or now, but as he scrubbed his hands over his eyes and swiped stubborn streaks away he swore he’d do his best to earn it.

“Oi!”

Rowan looked up to find Veronica with a hand on her hip, the other thrusting a finger at him.

“What are you doing here? Wait, you weren’t listening, were you?” she demanded, and he bit down on his lower lip to hide a smile and try to keep further tears at bay.

He was an absolute mess.

“Sorry,” he started, sheepish, as she continued to let him have it. He had missed her, but he hadn’t realized just how viscerally until that moment, while his heart swelled as she shouted at him. He couldn’t start crying again. He had to do better. In this timeline, his friends had no idea anything had gone wrong the first time. But as Veronica sauntered up to him, blonde eyebrows drawn low, he found himself bending down to his knee.

“Can I just…” Rowan had reached out before he realized and hesitated.

Veronica tipped her head to one side, and before he could force words out, her expression softened as though, somehow, she understood what he needed. “You - oh, whatever. Alright then, you idiot.” Her arms went around his neck and Rowan let out a great, shuddering breath, before wrapping his arms around her in turn and pulling her in.

“Look, it’s alright to be frightened,” she started, giving his back a couple of pats, “but pull yourself together, okay? The old man already frets like a mother hen, we can’t have you losing it on us, too-”

“Well, isn’t this just the sweetest?” Sylvando’s voice rang out behind him, and he felt Veronica shove him away without ceremony. “Why have I never gotten a quick snuggle?”

Rowan smiled a little to himself, before turning around. Sylvando he could handle.

When he spun around to face the door, he felt his heart stop, before picking up a bruising rhythm. The smile slid from his face. The entertainer wasn’t alone.

Erik had his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow arched high. If he’d looked concerned before, his expression was nothing short of bewildered now, and Rowan could easily imagine why.

He felt like he’d seen a ghost, and probably looked the part - and Erik especially could probably tell that he’d been crying.

Do better. Turn to stone.

Sylvando continued on, unbothered. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere, honey. Come on, then, the Father will be waiting!” With a wave of his hand, he spun around on his heel and waltzed out. Veronica cast Rowan one more odd, considering look before trailing out after him.

Rowan took a step to follow but froze in his tracks when Erik pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel the warmth of the touch through his tunic. He wasn’t blushing, at least.

“Are you alright?” Erik started, a small frown curving his mouth. “And uh, what’s with that sword? You’re supposed to be the good guy, remember?”

His teasing fell flat when Rowan didn’t smile. He’d completely forgotten about the Sword of Shadows strapped to his back. “Oh. Well, one of Father Benedictus’s aids gave it to me. It’s supposed to, um, help.”

Utterly brilliant.

“Doesn’t look like it’s meant to help much of anything,” he mused, letting his hand fall away. Rowan had to suppress the urge to reach for it with his own. “And you look-”

“Just don’t worry about it, okay?” Rowan interrupted, harsher than he’d meant, and he could see the flash of surprise in the other boy’s eyes before his expression went blank.

“Whatever floats your boat, I guess,” Erik said, cooler than before. “Let’s just get going, yeah?”

Guilt settled in and curled around his heart like a fist, and Rowan bit back a sigh. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

Rowan was not off to a great start.

As they trekked through the First Forest, he stayed silent and hung back. One by one, his friends would drop back to chat with him, to try to draw him out.

“What’s that look on yer face, laddie? You look like yer about to toss your biscuits -”

“Darling, you’re looking very down today. You should get more beauty sleep.”

Veronica watched him more than any of them, brows furrowed low as though he were a puzzle she wanted to sort out. Jade even tried to nudge him into a game of who could find the most sparkly sap, but the closer they got to the altar, the more his anxiety bloomed, white hot in the center of his chest, and the more he resisted their efforts.

He felt disconnected, disjointed - they were the same people he loved so fiercely, but in that moment they felt more like shadows. Where they were all excited to reach the World Tree, all he felt was an ill sense of foreboding. They didn’t know the horror that came next. He had all the weight of the world riding on him as he tried to prepare to prevent it.

He’d had to pretend before, certainly - that he wasn’t almost constantly afraid of failing, that he wasn’t overburdened by guilt - but this was a new level of awareness. He had to school every expression, every gesture, for anything he did could change the course time would take, and he could not mess it up again.

On top of it, he wasn’t used to having to pretend in front of Erik. At least, in the past - or, the future - he’d always been able to let his weakness show in front of one person, who’d always been more than happy to hold him up when he might falter.

Rowan pushed aside the frond of a fern and kept walking, and once again felt aware of a different pair of eyes on him. His skin prickled with it, as he felt as though he walked along a thin razor wire and teetered too close to both edges.

He could have sworn it took much longer the second time, for his grandfather to hunch forward and request they take a break, but he still felt the rush of relief for just one more moment to breathe before it was time to rewrite history.

After they finished setting camp, Rowan sank down in front of the fire, and watched the light cast shadows in the rapidly gathering darkness. He felt someone settle down at his side and didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Calm down,” Erik murmured, and Rowan felt the tension in his shoulders release, as though all he’d needed was permission. “You’ve been so on edge all day, it’s making me nervous. It’ll be alright. We’ve all got your back, you know?”

“I do know.” Rowan agreed, his voice low. He turned to face him and wasn’t quite prepared for it to hurt.

Firelight flickered across Erik’s face as he offered a small, tentative smile, and everything about him was familiar. But this Erik wasn’t his, not yet, and he couldn’t relax in his presence and bask in his warmth, not completely.

Turning to stone wasn’t quite as easy as he’d wished.

The soft notes of Serena’s harp filled the air, a melody he’d found quite sweet, before. Now it hollowed him out, because he knew not everything beautiful could stay untainted forever.

Erik’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Rowan let his eyes fall closed when he squeezed.

“Get some sleep,” the thief told him, and Rowan nodded before sinking back onto his bedroll behind him. He fell asleep to a song that reminded him of grief, while trying to remember the exact way he’d felt in that moment, the first time he’d lived it.

Hope.

***

Rowan opened his eyes.

He could still hear the harp, a repeating rise and fall as it joined the chorus of cricket song and the whisper of the breeze through the trees. The entire forest looked to be glowing, in time with the music.

He sat up, his confusion mounting as he noticed their camp was gone completely, without even the remnants of the fire left behind, and Rowan scrambled to his feet with one quick, sharp shout.

“Shh.”

He spun around to see Serena, sitting down in the grass with her eyes closed. Her expression was a peaceful one, and that calmed him, if only a little.

“You’ll wake them.” Serena continued, gently chastising in her soft voice.

“Wake who?” Rowan asked, stepping over to sit down beside her.

She smoothed a hand over her skirt. “The leaves, of course. Everyone’s trying to get some rest.”

Rowan frowned, but let the comment go. “Where is everyone else?”

Serena opened her eyes and blinked, offering him a slightly puzzled smile. “Why, I just told you, silly.”

The truth came to him with a sudden clarity, the click of a key turning in a lock. “This isn’t real.”

Serena tilted her head to one side. “Who’s to say? I think we might just be lost.” She hummed along to the harp for a moment. “Are you worried about tomorrow, Rowan?”

“More than you know,” he blew out a breath. “Why are you dreaming about the Yggdrasil leaves, Serena?”

“I asked Veronica before we slept if she thought our leaves would fall at the same time,” she started, looking up at the tree overhead. “She said she hoped so.” Serena turned to face him, biting down on her lower lip. “She told me that if something happened to her, I’d have to see this through on my own. But I don’t think I could, you know? Veronica’s always been the quicker one, the cleverer one. She’s so brave, nothing scares her. I think she would be just fine on her own, without me. But...I couldn’t, if I lost her.”

Rowan felt his mouth twist into a sad smile. He reached out and took her hand in his. “You’re braver than you think, Serena.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but-”

“No, I mean it. Listen,” Rowan shifted in the grass, giving her hand a light tug to hold her attention. “I can’t promise nothing at all will go wrong tomorrow, because as much as I hate it, I know better than that. But..I’m going to do my best for you guys, okay? It’s going to be different, this time around.”

He noticed the slip up too late, but Serena didn’t seem confused by his words. “I know you will, Rowan. We all believe in you, you know. Maybe you should try it.”

The soft laugh surprised him, as it bubbled loose from his chest. “Yeah, maybe I should.” He looked up to the glowing leaves. “I know you’d be alright without her, Serena. You’re strong enough for that. But I’m going to try and make sure you don’t have to be.”

Serena tipped her head to one side, resting it against his shoulder with a quiet sigh. “Thanks for coming to talk with me, I...I feel a bit better, truly. Would you mind terribly if we stayed like this awhile?”

“Take as long as you need,” Rowan murmured, “we’ve got time now.”

#dragon quest xi #dqxi #dqxi ff #luminary x erik #erik/luminary

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