#has he managed to convince himself that his only worth lies in the hits he can take so others don’t have to? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zeta-in-de-walls · 3 years

Text

Tommy’s character and the theme of failure

One thing I’ve always rather appreciated about Tommy’s story in the Dream SMP is how it explores the idea of failure. It can be a challenging one to do right as it means exploring a character’s weakness a lot and can start to feel unsatisfying if the character never succeeds but I feel like Tommy’s story avoids this issue as his arc is ultimately an encouraging one. His character never stops trying or gives up in spite of his losses, showing the perseverance to keep going until eventually he starts to find happiness, no matter how elusive it seems.

Tommy’s character is no stranger to failure of course but I’d say this theme starts to become prominent with November the 16th. Tommy had two goals: to save L’Manberg and to save Wilbur. He was pretty optimistic about both. And he failed. The day ended in disaster with Wilbur dead, Technoblade, his idol, mocking his heroism and telling him to die, and his home in ruins. It takes him a long time to come to terms with who Wilbur was, separating Wilbur into two in his mind: President Wilbur and the ‘crazy’ Wilbur who blew up L’Manburg.

But Tommy continues on, quietly moving on as L’Manburg gets rebuilt. No matter what, he still believes in L’Manburg; it’s still alive. Also, he wants to finally get his remaining disc back from Dream, feeling the need to do this after putting it aside for so long.

But of course, things don’t go well. That which he had taken for granted, his bond with Tubbo, was under fire. His personal wish to get his discs back was causing division. A simple prank gone wrong was tearing everything apart as Dream threatened L’Manburg once again. None of these things were purely Tommy’s actions, and yet his actions played a part all the same as Dream essentially took advantage of all of Tommy’s weaknesses. Tommy was being viewed as a liability, a troublemaker, as self-centred, as a problem.

Tommy’s character likely blamed himself somewhat for his failure with Wilbur and L’Manburg the first time but it had been out of his hands and his reactions were more shock than being truly broken by the events and he kept up his optimism. Yet this time, the problems were not things far beyond his control. It seemed it was his own mistakes spelling his doom and it impacted him quite severely. As much as he recognised Dream as an antagonist here, his friends distrust of him was his failure. Despite his best efforts, he could not convince Tubbo not to exile him.

Rather than seeing the fairly resilient, optimistic Tommy like the first time he was banished, this time Tommy’s defeated. We see the full effects it takes on his mental state and the narrative does not pull its punches. Tommy’s already depressed and we start to see evidence of suicidal thoughts very quickly. This is all made far, far worse by Dream who encourages his dark thoughts and feelings of worthlessness, telling him everyone’s better off without him while breaking his spirit and making him miserable by repeatedly blowing up his items.

Dream was of course Tommy’s enemy, he’d recognised before that what Dream had been doing to L’Manburg, with the obsidian walls and insisting on banishing Tommy, had been unfair even if Tommy had been helpless to stop him. Yet over exile we see him really start to internalise Dream’s words, starting to really believe that narrative that he is unloved and a liability, despite his best efforts. As his mental state worsens we see him starting to believe Dream’s lies so much that he begins to believe that Dream is really his friend who cares about him. Meanwhile, he’s angrier and lashing out at the people he cares about, we seem him kill Jack, break the bridges he built and generally lashing out at the people he misses the most.

So through exile, we see Tommy at his weakest and most vulnerable. We also see some of his flaws with his uglier side, his uncontrolled emotions, his dependency on others, his deep self-worth issues and how he can be so successfully lied to. This deep exploration of Tommy’s character allows us to really see how the repeated failures and setbacks and losses affected his character mentally and depict it as yet another obstacle he needs to overcome.

And ultimately he does, ultimately deciding to fight back and run away from exile on his own. Tommy’s arc goes to very depressing places but manages to remain an inspiring story by showing you at his weakest and yet also show him never truly giving up but pressing on, in search of that happy ending. Running away from exile has him also realising that Dream is his enemy, not his friend and he commits to fighting back against him.

But of course the narrative doesn’t entirely move on. Tommy’s struggles and failures continue to plague him as the mental issues he has with self-worth and his confused feelings towards Dream do not go away. He managed to continue but that wasn’t the perfect victory as most of his problems are still there and he’s still the same person. at Techno’s house, we see him and his confusion. He’s lighthearted and joking about but he’s still deeply troubled without a clear stance on Dream or L’Manburg or Tubbo and he clings to the idea of the disc as a simple goal. It seems as if he’s doomed to become the person he hated or make the same mistakes again. He once failed to save Wilbur and it seems as if his greatest failure would be to go down Wilbur’s path too, blowing up the country he once loved.

And Tommy nearly goes too far. He finally meets Tubbo again and his anger, his issues all come back as does some self-centred behaviour as he declares that ‘the discs are worth more than you ever were’.

And he immediately regrets it. He apologises, he turns around and gives them up to Dream. He won’t let himself turn into Wilbur.

And yet, every little victory he fights so hard for is met with an even greater failure. He switches sides on Technoblade while giving Dream exactly what he wanted. His story isn’t a happy one in spite of him trying his very best and making the decisions that are right for him. And we can only wonder how inevitable it was or if he could’ve done better for he hurts Techno deeply. Is he doing better or does his very nature doom him to make the same mistakes again and again?

Once ore, we see L’Manburg blown up and this time Tommy declares it a lost cause. Despite his best efforts, it’s over and we can only stare at the ruins of the nation he’d once helped build with Wilbur. Additionally, Tommy is dead to Techno now, that relationship seemingly broken forever.

But it’s not the end. Tommy is defeated once more, with each failure hitting harder than the last but he doesn’t give up. He keeps on fighting. For all he’s lost, he’s won Tubbo back, and the experiences may have been terrible but he has learned something through all of it. Even if all that is, is understanding suffering a bit better and getting back the courage to apologise and reconcile.

He and Tubbo go after Dream and it’s almost, almost too late. He’s nearly locked in prison forever and Tubbo almost killed.

But it’s not end. Just this once, it’s not a failure. They bet it all and finally had that victory. The rest of the server comes to save them and Dream gets locked in his prison while Tommy and Tubbo are finally free.

Course, Tommy’s story isn’t over there. And the thing with this theme of failure is that it keeps on cropping up. They may have finally gotten a victory but Tommy’s issues aren’t over. he tries to start again, building his hotel but the trauma from exile has made an impact on him. It’s something that can’t be solved in a day, but only over a long time. And despite everything, the issues keep coming back. Tommy feels like things are unresolved with Dream and visits him again.

And he gets locked in prison and dies and then gets resurrected. And its all absolutely devastating and it seems as if Tommy will never get better, that he’ll never truly have his happy ending. His hotel gets stolen from him and its as if everything he tries to do ends in failure.

He tries to sort things out, tries solving things with killing Dream and it just gets Ghostbur killed and the guilt can only eat at him. Wilbur is back at Tommy’s afraid but time has passed and he’s starting to see Wilbur more for who he is. After all he’s been through, he understands him way better than he did before. He once more commits to helping him but Tommy isn’t the naive kid he once was.

Tommy still lives in the very same spot he always did. He still wants the same things he always did: a home, security, peace, friends, and he’s been experiencing many losses. And yet, his story is not a hopeless one. Because in spite of all that’s happened, he’s still trying again. And he’s learned and can avoid making those mistakes again. Right now, he’s doing better, he’s committing to living peacefully in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s been attempting to build bridges and though all his failures haunt him, he is gradually healing day by day, still trying to find that happy ending.

I think Tommy’s story is very cool for the way it really explores these themes of failure. It does not pull its punches, its dark, never easy or straightforward but that’s also what makes it so powerful. Those bright spots, feel so good, they feel so rewarding because they were so hard-fought. We root for Tommy’s character because we’ve seen his journey and really feel he deserves his happy end even though its never going to be perfect and indeed every failure is a mixture of forces outside of his control and his character which he has been trying to improve, learning to be nicer, more forgiving and more aware of his own emotions. He can’t fix Dream nor does he know how best to help Wilbur but he can help himself and that’s what he’s always trying to do. He holds himself to account and always tries his best.

#tommyinnit #meta #analysis #dream smp #long post #finally got round to writing this #dream smp meta #heh i blame the music i was listening to #ive been thinking about this subject a lot but suddenly listening to this song called 'the same mistake' one too many times #and i finally wrote my thoughts out #this is mostly from his character's perspective if it sounds like im blaming tommys character a lot here #he's biased ofc - he's just trying his best and didn't deserve the consequences he received #aaah a lot of characters on the smp have failures but i like how tmmys really toy with the ideas of failure a lot #i love character who never give up no matter how many times they fail a i find it super encouraging #so yeha i do love tommys character

201 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

The Problem With Light

a/n i literally did not mean to write this, i was working on requests and then my mind was like ‘remember that lowkey love triangle kaz brekker x reader x darkling thing you always say you're going to write’ so yeah,, here we are :)),, two longer fics are coming!!

Summary: Kaz changes his plans after meeting the Sun Summoner and Kirigan teeters on a line the reader isn’t sure she wants.

Chapter One: The Conflicts of Prayer

Narrator.

Kaz knows a lot about patience. He knows how to bear the weight that the passage of time thrusts onto one's shoulder. He knows how to cultivate the seeds that he sews. If he wasn’t like this he’d stand no chance at one day avenging the ghost that refuses to leave him.

But Jesper is almost an hour late. Kaz has been standing in a dimly hit branch of a relatively important hallway in the Little Palace. Jesper was supposed to come while in disguise to bring Kaz his new disguise and his newly repaired cane. Kaz’s hand flexes again, wishing he could feel the detailed head of one of his few comforts beneath the broken-in leather of his gloves. A bitter part of him claims that if Jesper isn’t injured once he arrives, he’ll be injured once Kaz gets his hand on his cane.

He shifts his weight, the pain in his leg starting to take its toll. The slight relaxation disappears once he hears footsteps. Kaz turns, ignoring the ache the motion brings him. His entire body hardens, preparing for a fight. He doesn’t look like he belongs here yet and there’s nowhere to run. The person crossing his path will need to be taken care of--knocked out or something more permanent.

The person only pauses to look at him when Kaz angles himself forward in a fighting stance. He watches the person, a girl, shifts back slightly, eyes wide and defensive. She’s a mess--hair disheveled, nose slightly bleeding, and dirty kefta. Her appearance isn’t why Kaz finds himself frozen, not because of the girl’s appearance but because she’s her. Y/n l/n. The Sun Summoner.

“Sorry! I--” She almost winces, but then her eyebrows furrow together. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Kaz’s jaw locks. He could take her physically, but for all he knows she could raise her arms and blind him permanently with her light. “That’s okay,” she breathes, something in her looking a little relieved, “I’m not supposed to be here either.” Kaz watches her oddly, wondering if her trustingness is a trap in itself. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

It’s a joke. That much is clear by the gentle uptilt of her lips. It’s as if she doesn’t know she’s bleeding and looks like she just ran out of a fight. Her expression doesn’t harshen at his silence. Kaz finds himself disliking that. It’s not enough that she can summon the sun, she also has to seem like it.

He needs to say something. Jesper was supposed to be watching her and now he’s not here and she is. The plan is unraveling and if he talks she’ll stay here or reveal where she’s going to next. That’s the kind of thing he needs to salvage this.

His lips part, but he’s not sure what to say. “You’re not supposed to be here?”

She shakes her head once. “No--I’m supposed to be in personal training, but I kind of got my ass kicked in group training and my pride needs a break.” The admission leaves her sheepishly. “It’s probably for the best, becoming a Sun Summoner overnight has given me a bit of an ego.” She sighs, the sound strangely light. “Then again, I kind of need an ego for what’s wanted from me and if one bad fight is all it takes to kill it then it’s not strong enough, considering--” Kaz tenses as she cuts herself off. “Sorry, I’m rambling, we both have places to be.” Hope presses into him stiffly. She’s going to say it. “Where--where are you supposed to be?” She shifts back slightly. “Not that I have to know, but you’re not from here, and--”

Kaz steps forward, pushing through the stiffness in his leg. Y/n’s gaze drops. Kaz’s discomfort worsens, someone like her doesn’t need to know his weaknesses. “Are you here for me to pray for you?” She scratches her arm, “I-I can, but I tell everyone I pray for I don’t consider myself a Saint.”

The honesty of the comment twisted something in Kaz’s thoughts. “Yes,” he lies, partially distracted by the beginnings of a scheme. He can feel Inej’s future anger as he lies again, “I’m here for prayer.”

“I spent so long rambling,” she says in a tone that implies apology.

He nods once, wondering how someone could be that apologetic and survive. The weight of such power must strangle someone like her. That could be a good thing. Someone like her must be spiraling with all this change and sudden strength. Maybe this could be simpler than an abduction plan, a few choice words and he could convince the girl to come with him. He could get her to believe there was something she needed to do in Ketterdam. If she went there willingly, things could be much more efficient.

Inej won’t like this, and for this to work he’ll have to think of the right way to present the plan to her. He weighs his options and the details as y/n whispers words with her eyes closed and hands folded together. The words he can make out are kind. He expected that, but what he didn’t expect was the earnestness of them.

She means each part of her prayers. Kaz regrets noticing that.

“I can’t promise my prayers do anything,” she finishes, voice returning to its normal volume, “but I hope you get what you need.”

What he wants is within his grasp now that he knows what to do. “I’m sure good things are near.” It’s the most honest he’s been since her arrival.

Y/n nods once, “I should go before my reprieve costs me more than it's worth.”

He watches her disappear down the hallway. Her movements are light, calm and unweighted.

“Boss,” Jesper’s appearance is brash, “I’ve spent this entire time looking for her. She was in training like she was supposed to, took an awul blow, delivered an even meaner one, and then disappeared.”

Kaz tries to imagine the same hands that were just so neatly folded in prayer as fists. “You just missed her.” He doesn’t wait for Jesper’s reaction, he just takes his newly repaired cane back. “And we’re changing the plan.”

Y/n.

I tried going to Baghra. I told someone who believed my prayers meant something that I was going back to training. But then I remembered her words from last time and the shame I felt when I could not create light. I haven’t summoned light once without Kirigan’s touch.

I’m the Sun Summoner--I am the person that summons the sun by themselves. Kirigan and I aren’t the Sun Summoner together. I’m pathetic. And instead of trying to get better, I’m wandering the library because all anyone can talk about is the way Zoya punched me in the face.

Baghra picked me apart when I looked shiny. I can’t imagine the kinds of comments she’d make if she saw me with a bloody nose and dead leaves in my hair. I’ll go tomorrow, once Genya fixes both my matted hair and cracked self esteem.

For now, I have the one thing that’s always comforted me. My books. I wander the library, trying not to think of anything. Of Baghra, of Zoya, of the strange man in the hall.

He seemed weighted by something. I always wish I could do more for those that ask for my prayer, but the longing is sharper now. I don’t know him, so it’s ridiculous to want to help him so badly, but my uselessness itches beneath my skin in a way I’m not used to. I don’t know why I feel more protective about this stranger than others. I’ve had people fall to my feet weeping, begging for me to save them. That hurt me, but the desire to help this one stranger burns in a way I’ve never felt before.

“I don’t know why they don’t look for you here every time you disappear.” His voice is as soft and subtle as a shadow. “They’d save so much time.”

I fight the urge to defensively grasp the first book I can reach. “You’re making it sound like I have a habit of vanishing in order to make a point.” My defense is weak. We both know that this isn’t the first time I ran away from something here. “Sometimes absence is just that.”

“When you’ve waited for someone as long as I have, all absence is significant.” The words are not harsh but they should be. I don’t know how I could respond to that.

He steps forward easily, as he always does. I keep myself still despite the way that warmth settles against my chest uncomfortably. I manage to hold onto my stillness even when he raises a hand, one gentle finger brushing above my top lip. I tense at his lingering touch.

Kirigan turns his hand slowly, exposing the red on his fingertips. “How di--”

“Training,” I interrupt quickly, “I promise I got a decent hit in as well.”

When he nods, his expression is clearly weighted but I cannot interpret it. He almost always looks like that. I shouldn’t find anything about the man that stole me from everything I’ve ever known (even though he had good reason to do so) alluring, but I want to understand him. It’d feel like knowing a secret the rest of the world is desperate for.

For a moment we just stand there, Kirigan closer than he’s ever been. Sometimes when he’s quiet I think he knows my secrets. All of mine. Even my curiosity about him. “I don’t doubt that.”

At least he tries to be nice to me sometimes. It’s more than anyone else here can say. Except maybe Genya. “You don’t have to say that.” He knows it’s true. “Keep in mind you found me in the library, hiding from Baghra.”

He hesitates. “No one likes training.”

“I think I’d find it tolerable if…” Can I say this to him? Admit the extent of my helplessness? He looks at me patiently, waiting for me to give something to him. “I’m the Sun Summoner--that’s supposed to be me. That’s supposed to be mine, and I can’t do it by myself.”

The patheticness of my struggle hits me in full force. I drop my head as he weighs my words. “It’s in you,” he says it so surely I don’t think I could argue.

I smile politely. “Thank you.”

Kirigan reaches downwards, towards my wrist. He latches onto me so quickly I’m too surprised to back away. “Light,” he prompts like it really is that easy.

I know I can do it with him, so I don’t see the point in showing it. “It doesn’t count if I get help.”

“Y/n.” Sometimes I think his voice is softer when he speaks my name.

I raise my hands, overlaying them, letting the hand that he touches make up the base of my cup. Reaching into myself, I search for the power beneath my skin. With him, that power seems to sit directly beneath the surface, desperate and greedy. I don’t call to it, instead I simply let it flow. The light bleeds from me, a sphere of blinding light bursts into my hands. It’s bright, burning, and desperate to escape my control.

My mind clamps around the power tightly, restraining it without choking it out until the light in my hands is exactly as small as I want it to be. I hold it there, letting its warmth melt away all of the bad. I let it grow, the light illuminating a path I can barely see--a path in which I do not disappoint those that need to have faith in something and for some unknown reason decided to place it in me. I hold onto that feeling, and then I let the light disappear.

I smile at my hands. The only good that’s come from this is the way the light makes me feel. “Y/n.” I look up at Kirigan, who’s showing me both of his palms. “That was you.”

A feeling better than the light coils up my stomach and into my heart. I grin. I did it without him. I can do it without him. “That--how did you know that would work?”

“I knew that you could do it, you just needed to see it.”

Warmth fills me, light and easy. A little too light. I have to work at not reaching for him, not because I need to, but because I want to. “Thank you.” This time I mean it.

“Your gratitude is premature,” he warns, but nothing about it is harsh, “I’m here to send you back to training.”

At least the thought of facing Baghra no longer devastates me. “There’s always a catch.” I smile, hoping he understands what he’s done for me. “But I think this time it may be worth it.”

He almost smiles. “Tell me if you still feel that way after spending time with Baghra.”

A fair warning. It’s more than I expect from him. “Will do.”

Kirigan’s expression threatens to soften, but he turns away from me with a soft nod before I can try to decipher the look. I let him leave before disappearing down another hall, forcing myself to look for Baghra. I think of my interaction with both Kirigan and the stranger, at least Baghra won’t be the weirdest part of my day

123 notes · View notes

gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

Prometheus

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Summary: You disappoint August and must make up for it.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub themes, language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my entry for the Happy Hoelidays Challenge by @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 . You guys are all fucking amazing and I adore you! I chose the prompt “Kissing under the mistletoe” but with a twist. And honestly, this whole fic is a mess. But I hope you’ll find something worthwhile here.

Masterlist

Our love story will not be found in romance books. People like him and I, we don’t exist in rose tinted pages with flowery scents. We are found within the darker pages of horror books, where our love is written with blood and pain, where it’s ghastly stunning in its dangerous beauty. But I promise you, it’s no less beautiful than the walks in a meadow or cuddles in the bed.

We bleed and cry, from eyes and heart. We drown each other deep and deeper still, only to pull back above the surface as we’re about to die. That gulp of air, that’s sweeter than any other, if simply because it’s the one that has us clinging to life.

I like to think that I am Prometheus, and he is my Eagle, sent by the gods to devour me day after day, letting me writhe under him. It’s pain beyond anything, but what most don’t understand is that I need that pain to feel alive. But what if one day Prometheus was left hanging alone, liver intact and no eagle to eat him out?

That would be torture.

I am being tortured.

The whip in his hand cracked on skin and I choked on a sob. The sharp swish of the whip parted the air again and crashed on the skin with precise intervals, creating a crisscross of welts like a painter does his design. The blue in his eyes was clouded by the deep, boiling waves of anger and disappointment.

I could take his anger, but never his disappointment.

His anger meant punishment, it meant retribution. His disappointment meant distance, it meant betrayal. And here I was, Prometheus who disappointed his eagle and now watched that beak bite on someone else’s liver.

She took his hits gracefully, only small whimpers escaping her as his whip landed on her bottom. They left marks on her skin, but they seared my heart. People say nothing hurts more than being punished this brutally. They know nothing. Nothing of the pain of watching someone else take your pain, your punishment. People don’t know the torture of being tied down and being made to watch your master pour his anger into someone else.

I closed my eyes at the scene, incapable of watching more. It was more than my heart could take. I had promised to take his love and his hate, his sweetness and his poison. And to have someone else cry under him, wear marks on her body that should have decorated me left me more broken than any of his toys would have done.

“Please sir” I begged, “No more.”

His eyes were on me the entire time, even as he had someone else at his mercy. He cocked his head to the side, looking at me naked and tied up, balancing on my knees. He came closer and lifted his booted leg to part my thighs with it, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Melly, leave.” He ordered the other girl. She swiftly got up and left without a word, just happy to be of service when required. I raised my eyes to his, pleading, begging. His large hand traced the curve of my cheek before dropping to the collar on my neck, playing with the charm that dangled on the front.

AW’s Princess

“I should take this away” August said, and I jerked as if I had been electrocuted. I shook my head, hair falling away from the elastic that secured them. He couldn’t take away my collar. No, he simply couldn’t.

“Please, no sir. I am sorry.” I sobbed.

To me, this collar was a symbol of ownership. Of being claimed by August Walker, being his. I would never trade this for a wedding ring, for this was more sacred to me. It sat on my neck, over my pulse, beating with the blood that pumped under it and reminded me that every breath I take belongs to him. That I chose to surrender my life living at his feet.

“What are you sorry about, Princess?” He asked me. Before I could answer, he was walking away to pull from his drawer a bowl and his trusted vibrator, and the sight of it made my thighs tremble.

“I am sorry for lying to you sir.” I replied. He hummed, coming to kneel before me, placing the bowl between my parted thighs and opening me wide with two fingers. I gasped, mouth parted as he touched me most intimately, his fingers that easily pulled the trigger of a gun running gently along my spongy walls to create an explosion no less than a gun shot.

He followed every pant that fell from my mouth, observed every twitch that showed on my face and drank in the fluttering of my lashes. Whenever I would turn my face he would tut, forcing me to look at him.

“How did it feel when I hit Melly instead of you?” He asked me, and slowly started to insert the vibrator inside me. I sucked in a breath, wincing at the stretch before answering.

“It hurt sir, it hurt so much.” I whimpered, tears shining in my eyes before dropping to my cheeks.

August leans back once the vibrator is completely in me, my juices dripping out from around it. Cupping my face gently, he brushed a soft kiss on my forehead, like the brush of angel wings and the slightest nip of Death’s scythe at once.

“You hurt me too.” He whispered. The darkness in his eyes had me shivering, both from fear and arousal. Being with August felt like standing on a cliff, every moment terrified that a strong gust of wind would have me pummeling to the ground. But when one wants to fly, even falling becomes a kink. How long does the fall last, and when you do hit the ground, how good does it hurt?

It hurts like heaven.

“You will fill this bowl with your cream” He ordered, “You will drip into it, and as you do, you’ll tell me where you went wrong. Apologize to me like you mean it, give me a reason to have you at my feet.”

He started unbuttoning himself and with every new inch of him revealed to my hungry eyes, I dripped. I clenched around the vibrating toy inside me, moaning softly. This is how completely he owned me. The eagle was going away, and it was up to Prometheus to seduce him to come back, to convince him to eat that liver one more time, that the taste it worth it.

“I am sorry sir, I lied to you. I didn’t tell you where I was going.” I started. He continued undressing, languidly tossing aside his clothes to unveil the scarred flesh underneath. I could tell every battle he’d ever fought by tracing the hardened marks over his body. Sometimes when he would let me, I’d trace the scars of his heart too, feeling the hurt and loss that lingered in their ridges.

“Where did you tell me you were going, Princess?” He asked me, sitting naked in front of me on a chair. Easy, confident.

“To the movies with my friends.” I lowered my eyes, ashamed of myself for lying to a man who can see through anyone and anything.

“And where did you actually go?”

I bit my lip, knowing I had disappointed him. He required nothing from me but trust and honesty.

“To see my family.” I whispered.

He shook his head, a sneer curling under his mustache. His gaze bore into me with a force that had me gushing in the bowl and he scoffed. The control he had on my body without even touching it was almost embarrassing. He got up to stand in front of me, his hard length so near to my face if I poke my tongue out, I’d be able to lick him.

“Your family” He spat the word like it was poison. “Why don’t I like it when you go meet with them Princess?”

“Because only you’re allowed to hurt me sir.” I answered.

August was not a nice man, he was not someone you mess with. He got off on pain and terror, on instigating fear in those around him. But when it came to me, only he is allowed to hurt me. He will whip me and spank me, tie me and choke me, but woe betide anyone who so much as hurt a hair on my head. Which is why I didn’t tell him I was meeting my family.

Every meeting with them came out the same way. Me in tears after a shouting match. For someone who had never managed to quite fit in anywhere, my only solace was August’s arms. And those arms would pound anyone to pulp if I cried tears that were put in my eyes by anyone but him. Fucked up? Maybe.

“Why did you go?” He asked, brushing the tip of his cock on my face, smearing his cum and marking me. The natural musk of him filled my nose and I leaned forward to have a taste when he moved away, wagging a finger in warning.

“It was Christmas.” I pathetically said.

August smirks, his eyes falling on the bowl between my legs that had collected my slick. He exhaled, kneeling before me and pulling out the vibrator with a pop, instead replacing it with his fingers that had me struggling in my restraints.

“And you thought I wouldn’t celebrate Christmas with you?” He asked me and flicked his fingers on my hardened nub that had me cumming into the bowl. His name was like a chant on my lips and I begged him to set me free, to hold me again.

He took away the bowl and put it on the bedside table, coming back to finally release me from the ropes that bound me. Carefully picking me, he dropped me on the bed and smirked nastily.

“I even got us mistletoe. I was going to hang it on the door and surprise you with it, but since you’ve chosen to be a bitch today, I’ve found another place for it.” Saying this he pulled out a bundle of mistletoe and held it over his cock, looking expectantly at me.

“W-what?” I sputtered.

“You’re supposed to kiss it sweetheart” He mocked and came closer, slapping me across the face with his dick. I blinked at him before licking my lips and taking him in my mouth. His familiar taste and thickness made me feel at home, and I sucked and slurped, trying to show him how sorry I truly was.

His hand tangled in my hair and pulled me along, bobbing me up and down his length, one hand still dangling the mistletoe over my head. I relaxed my body, letting him guide me as he wanted. My love was my apology, and this was my repentance.

“I had planned a fun night with you” He snarked, sitting deep inside my throat, “I got you a fucking tree and presents. Thought we’d watch a movie. But all that romantic bullshit doesn’t work for us, does it?”

His pace increased as did my moans. I held onto his thick thighs that had more than once choked me. He may have all the power over me, but I reveled in that just the same.

“We don’t make love beside the fireplace darling, we burn ourselves in the fireplace, surrounded by the flames of passion and lust that run in you and me.”

His words heated me up and I doubled my efforts, taking him deeper and looking into his eyes, letting him speak to my soul as he owned my body. He tensed and twitched, warmth pooling in my mouth and down my throat and I smiled when he pulled away. My jaw ached a little, but pain was an old friend.

“That was quite a kiss” I said, and he chuckled, pushing me down to lie on my back.

“It’s not over by a long shot.” He said and taking the bowl with my cum he dripped my essence over my bare chest and belly. My skin broke out into gooseflesh as the cold liquid hit me but just as soon it was followed by the warmth of his tongue, sucking me, tasting me.

This is what being worshiped felt like. In chains and in pain, and yet the object of desire and love. When one slap meets your cheek, the following caress feels just that much softer.

August rolled on his back, smearing the rest of my cum over his own chest. I leaned over him, tongue gliding through his hair and veins, dipping into deep scars and damaged tissues. His voice rose in a crescendo, cock hardening again and as I licked, I climbed over him, aligning myself and bringing him home with one thrust.

“Fuck” He whispered, mouth meeting mine in a kiss, sinful and dirty. He kissed me like the Angel of Death serving me the elixir of life. I bounced on him, rode him like he was the stairwell that would take me to heaven. His smell, his taste, the feeling of his rippling flesh and the dominance in his eyes set fire to my veins. I clamped hard on him, sliding my damp body over his as I crashed and fell apart.

His hips kept pushing up, going hard enough as if trying to come out of the other end. Nails dug into the flesh of my thighs as he kept me steady over him, pumping into me until I felt him release inside. We fell into a tangle of limbs, a sheet lazily pulled over my bruised body. That was the thing with August, when he hurt me it left a mark on the outside, but never inside.

“I love you” He softly panted in the crook of my neck. I turned over and clung to him, pulling him close in my embrace. Prometheus needed his Eagle to feel alive, and the Eagle needed Prometheus to sustain. Neither is complete without the other.

“I love you too”

Permanent Tags: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @donutloverxo @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203 @firebolt99

Henry : @agniavateira

#happyhoelidays2020 #august walker x reader #august x reader #august walker #henry cavill x reader

421 notes · View notes

shihalyfie · 3 years

Text

A meta and analysis on Takaishi Takeru

Of all of the Tokyo Chosen Children, Takeru is lucky enough to get significant attention for two full series from beginning to end, and his character also goes through some drastic changes in the process, especially through Adventure and 02. There’s so much going on with him that it makes it hard to give a short answer to the question “what is Takeru like?” because there’s so much you could say about him at so many different times.

Fortunately, that’s what we’re here to talk about today!

Takeru in Adventure

At first glance, Takeru seems to be the “tagalong kid” -- the obligatory “little kid character” you have whenever you have a party in a fantasy story. Generally, these “obligatory kid characters” are the kind constantly struggling to catch up with the older ones. Adventure being a series that loves to play with tropes and expectations, though, very quickly says no to that.

Seki: ...We also mixed up the children’s ages, for a bit of variety. Kakudou: The oldest one would be the most unreliable, and the smartest one would be one of the third youngest. Just a little to throw you off the usual, conventional track. Seki: The youngest one would feel too much like a burden to everyone else, and conversely would actually have himself together.

Takeru “doesn’t want to be a burden” -- meaning his feelings on this issue are actually rather much like Hikari’s. Unlike Hikari, though, Takeru reacts to this compulsion differently -- instead of simply repressing things and pretending the problem doesn’t exist, Takeru’s reaction to his own negative feelings is to “have himself together” and act as if he’s got everything under control.

Or, more accurately, pretend he has it together and has everything under control.

Takeru, for all intents and purposes, was not supposed to be on the camping trip the others were on, not having gone to everyone’s school -- he had to get special permission to go. Takeru’s family is very, very split harshly at this time, with his mother not even able to treat Yamato comfortably. Yamato deals with the familial estrangement badly -- alternating between approaching everyone awkwardly and exploding like an emotional fuse bomb -- but Takeru tries to take it as a sign that he needs to be “responsible”. A lot of his actions in Adventure are him basically exuding this aura of “I can take care of myself!”, and in fact he works very hard to “assert” himself as if he were yet another peer. We even see him make the complaint directly in Adventure episode 43 -- while he is correct in calling out Yamato for coddling him and him only while recklessly disregarding the others, the fact he specifically complains about Yamato approaching him as someone holding them back if he’s not protected reveals a lot about his own mentality regarding the situation.

One of his first major scenes in episode 2 is him offering his own food for the pile of supplies everyone has, even though it’s just snacks. Which is, probably, a pretty accurate summary of Takeru’s character at this point: on the surface he’s responsible, well-behaved, and capable...but, in fact, he’s still about as immature as an average eight-year-old child would predictably be.

Yamato spends his Adventure character arc pretty openly angsting about his relationship to Takeru and how his family’s split has affected them, but throughout the entirety of Adventure (and, eventually, 02 as well), not only does Takeru rarely if ever touch on it, there are indications that Takeru deliberately tries to dodge the subject or not dwell on it too much. In Adventure episode 12, he actually outright lies to Patamon about his younger childhood memories, claiming he “probably doesn’t remember” anything about it despite the audience very clearly being shown that he very much did, and in episode 26 he comes very close to leaking his actual feelings about the group being separated being tied to what happened to his family, before quickly covering it up and trying to move on with the topic.

In other words, unlike Hikari, who knows exactly what she’s feeling but is compulsively unable to vocalize them, Takeru actively suppresses his negative feelings and tries not to dwell on them too much. Again, this comes from his desire to “not be a burden” on others -- he’s got this situation under control! Everything is fine!

And this has a very, very nasty payoff. While Yamato clearly deals with his emotional issues badly, tending to get very explosive about it, Takeru’s way of coping isn’t actually all that much better in the long run, because Yamato’s frustration and openness about his emotions at least lead him to being very straightforward about his feelings, incredibly self-aware and sometimes even self-conscious, and ultimately able to get at least some degree of catharsis from the situation. Takeru...not so much.

Takeru is a child, no matter how much he tries not to act like one, and it ultimately results in him reacting disastrously whenever something hits him too emotionally hard -- which results in Takeru suddenly becoming irrationally stubborn and even angry. We later see what it takes to actually break through Takeru’s facade of “totally having this together” in Adventure episode 22, which is also the first time he openly breaks down wailing in front of anyone besides Patamon -- and it’s, of course, when PicoDevimon convinces him that Yamato hates him. The interesting part is that this is so blatantly a lie that even Tokomon is able to quickly call bullshit on it, but Takeru, previously having worked so hard to maintain this facade of being responsible, falls for it completely with utter irrationality -- and it really does suggest that Takeru’s fear of losing yet another member of his family, and being a burden to Yamato, runs so deep that it causes that entire facade to shatter in one blow.

Which is where the problem lies: Takeru’s habit of suppression is so bad that once one of his triggers is hit, he completely loses all sense of rationality and blows up, and it becomes nearly impossible to reason with him because he locks down on becoming stubborn. It’s also dangerous because even he isn’t particularly self-aware of what he’s doing when he blows up like this; at least Hikari was very consciously aware of her suppression problem, but Takeru never really seems to have any awareness of the fact that his covering up of his feelings is directly related to some of his worst moments. We see it cause problems between him and Patamon again in Adventure episode 33, when Patamon asks a rather innocuous question about the brothers, and it hits Takeru’s trigger so badly that he snaps at him, resulting in the fight that kicks off the plot of the episode.

Adventure episode 52 is basically a major test for Takeru as to whether he really can hold himself together in a situation where everyone else older than him is gone, and “having himself together” is something he has to actually do instead of just have the surface facade of. He does, ultimately, pass, and this is why the Crest of Hope glows this episode -- but it’s also made clear that it wasn’t quite as easy for him as he would normally pretend it is. Of course, it also helps that Piemon is genuinely the scariest threat they’d faced during that time, but it also reveals that, yeah, ultimately, Takeru is an eight-year-old child who still has to struggle to put on a brave face so that Hikari doesn’t get impacted by his own fear.

For all it’s worth, although we get a ton of depth into his background and mentality, Takeru does not actually change that much as a character over the course of Adventure. This incident is probably what changes him the most in terms of him gaining a more solid core, and he also learns to accept the inevitability of fighting after his stubborn refusal to engage in it all the way back in Adventure episode 12 -- but for the most part he still does remain a bit naive about the world at large, and, more importantly, his issue with trying to cover up his problems with a confident smile never really gets addressed. At most, he’s willing to admit his grief over being separated from Patamon in Adventure episode 54, but even that is something Takeru tries to bounce back from quickly, much like with the first time he cried with Patamon in Adventure episode 12. But there’s nothing to indicate that his problem with emotional management isn’t going to continue being a problem from here on out if left unchecked.

That problem ends up taking another three more years to get addressed.

Takeru in 02

Takeru is one of the first people we meet in 02 (for reasons that end up revealed in the final episode), and right off the bat we learn that he’s a bit...evasive. He leaves a cryptic line to Daisuke about his goggles without coming even close to what we all know is the full extent of what’s on his mind (that the goggles specifically remind him of someone important to him), and later just...deflects Daisuke throwing accusations at him with a mild dismissal. In fact, even though Takeru pretty clearly understands very quickly what’s going on with Daisuke and how touchy he gets with the Hikari issue, he keeps dodging the question and constantly saying things that are evasive about it and therefore never truly helps his case until episode 17, when the circumstances between why Hikari and Takeru knew each other are finally properly clarified to Daisuke and he stops getting on their case about it on his own.

There were multiple points in time before this -- especially in episode 7, when Daisuke is practically at his worst in regards to approaching Takeru -- when Takeru could have easily said something to at least attempt to get Daisuke to stop bothering him, but Takeru never even asks him to cut it out! He simply continues to handle everything with a “yeah, okay, sure! :)” attitude, which of course confuses Daisuke (who’s rather allergic to people not being straightforward) rather thoroughly, and you wonder if he’s practically enjoying seeing Daisuke’s antics to the point he’s just enabling it further.

As a point of aside trivia, the official 02 website adds the fun detail that apparently he's popular with the girls at school but doesn't show much interest in them himself, and the Animedia audio commentary CD for Armor Evolution to the Unknown had his voice actor even express the opinion that he saw Takeru as someone who wasn’t really the type to think about romance at this age (adding in a separate interview for the 02 DVDs that he felt Takeru was respectful of girls primarily due to having been taught by his single mother to be such). The latter part of course isn’t something that comes from the writing, but given the website trivia I’m inclined to personally agree with it -- and, more importantly, the implication is that Takeru is at least aware of these kinds of things, but actively chooses to not think about it and deal with it when the time comes.

So in other words: That part about how Takeru actively suppresses things that are negative or inconvenient to think about, all for the sake of keeping a smile plastered on his face? Yup, still there.

In fact, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment from 02 episode 17 implies heavily that, even with their parents having developed a more cordial relationship after the events of Adventure, Takeru is now emotionally dealing with the aftermath of his parents’ divorce worse than Yamato is, since Yamato is at least able to speak about it casually and even joke about it openly, whereas Takeru keeps his mouth shut and the framing of the shot heavily implies he’s still extremely sensitive and unable to vocalize his feelings on it. Takeru never brings this up as something eating away at him for the entire series -- but BelialVamdemon uses it against him in episode 49, revealing that, yes, this is a problem that’s still tearing away at him, and yet he’s refusing to be open to anyone about it, even to Yamato himself. (Especially since, again, Yamato seems to be doing a great job trying to move forward; why kill his mood and thus be a “burden” to him?)

Even so, Takeru is very different in 02 partially because his circumstances are completely different. Adventure had him as the youngest in a group of older kids, so in terms of “being a responsible child”, that naturally meant being deferential and polite to everyone due to standards of propriety. 02 is where we learn a lot more about how Takeru interacts with peers his own age and people who are outright younger than him, when he has a bit more leeway to be more assertive.

On top of that, back in Adventure, Takeru was a young child who had a very small “range of periphery” -- as a young child still rather naive about the world, his emotional investment in things primarily pertained to loved ones and the people around him. But now that he’s a bit older, he’s gained a certain degree of strong feelings about “what’s the right thing to do”, and now has very strong opinions on it.

These things ultimately manifest in, unfortunately, Takeru losing his composure much more often than he did in Adventure, and for reasons that pertain to much wider things than just his brother. Still not having recovered from the trauma of losing Patamon back in Adventure episode 13, Takeru starts physically fighting Daisuke in 02 episode 11 because he perceives Daisuke as not doing enough to prevent Patamon from potentially becoming a slave to the Kaiser, and in 02 episode 13 he lashes out at Hikari in frustration about her refusal to do anything about her situation (which he of course ends up deeply regretting later in the episode).

Takeru’s infamous scene of suddenly switching modes on the Kaiser and punching him out in 02 episode 19 is basically the pinnacle of this -- because, yes, the Kaiser really did deserve it, but this really is not a good thing for Takeru either. This is Takeru getting the closest we ever see him to being a genuine sadist, and it’s basically everything to do with his emotional stuntedness coming out at once -- blowing up in anger out of nowhere with a passive-aggressive demeanor, succumbing to the weight of his trauma in the worst way possible, and mixing the ^^ front he puts on with his tendency to blow up angrily at anything that cuts him a little too emotionally close.

And for the first time, we see someone actually acknowledge how bad this is. Iori, one of the most consciously perceptive of the group, witnesses, for himself, the sheer jarringness of Takeru seeming to only really have two modes between “all smiles” and “unreasonably angry”. Sure, Takeru had shown a penchant for getting active as soon as there was something he needed to protect, but the moment it got personal, Takeru suddenly blew up in front of his eyes and almost turned into a completely different person. (Perhaps he’s not that different from Yamato after all...)

This is a very important moment because it sets up the base for what ultimately becomes the Jogress arc between Iori and Takeru. Daisuke ended up reaching out to Ken because Ken was someone who needed someone to accept him and teach him to move forward instead of drowning in the past; Miyako ended up reaching out to Hikari because Hikari knew herself to have a suppression problem but had difficulty doing anything about it, so the extremely in-your-face and aggressive Miyako could go in deep. But with Takeru, since his personality is genuinely volatile, and because Takeru goes out of his way to hide the fact he’s having emotional problems, personalities like Daisuke and Miyako wouldn’t help much because they’re too straightforward for someone like this who’s a bit unpredictable -- whereas Iori, who’s assertive but also methodical and thinks through everything consciously, is eventually much better able to reach out to him.

Once the relevant arc kicks in, in 02 episode 34, Iori continues to observe Takeru, and quietly notes the many “contradictions” in Takeru’s behavior -- since, after all, Takeru starts to sometimes violate what you’d think would be common sense whenever he gets too emotionally compromised. The fact that ostensibly one of the outwardly “nicest” kids in this group suddenly blows up in certain circumstances and basically goes “absolutely nope, needs to be killed!” in the midst of a few moral debates over killing sentient Digimon disturbs him deeply, and really, it’s not even about the killing part (after all, it’s later established in 02 episode 43 and after that Takeru and Hikari have a certain degree of acceptance of the inevitability that the others don’t) as much as Takeru’s being pretty gung-ho about it. Not “I don’t like it, but we have to” like he said earlier, but NOPE, GOTTA DO IT.

Iori refers directly to the duality of Takeru that he doesn’t quite understand multiple times in this episode (including in regards to the incident back in 02 episode 19), and it continues to torment him until the end, when Takeru only gives a very cryptic “clarification” that he doesn’t necessarily hate the darkness per se.

Iori, too intimidated to ask Takeru about it directly, goes to ask Yamato in 02 episode 35, and Yamato finally clarifies the background that we as the audience knew but Iori didn't: the story behind Takeru's trauma regarding the loss of Angemon back in Adventure episode 13. Yamato also makes a conjecture about why Takeru has been acting so ambivalent towards Ken -- you'd think he'd still be under Takeru's scorn after the events of 02 episode 19, but in fact Takeru's judgment of him in episode 25 was simply that he was certain something had changed, yet he couldn't tell what he was thinking (really rich coming from someone who refuses to tell anyone else what he's thinking himself!). Yamato guesses that Takeru is inclined to be a bit more forgiving of Ken due to understanding the feeling of losing a partner -- and the ultimate conclusion here is, basically, that Takeru's behavior is contradictory because he's acting based on what's personal to him, not necessarily via principles that make sense. After all, back in Adventure, it was clearly demonstrated that Takeru isn’t exactly rational when things hit too close to home.

The other important thing that happens this episode is that Takeru learns that Iori is actively trying to reach out to him, when Yamato drops him a line informing him that Iori asked. Despite complaining that Iori could have just asked him directly, after Takeru witnesses the face-off between Iori and BlackWarGreymon and a demonstration that Iori is clearly trying his best to make sense out of this entire mess, Takeru actively reaches out to Iori and says something to comfort him -- “a life is beautiful simply by existing.” It’s still cryptic as hell, but it’s not something he would have said in the midst of his anger in prior episodes.

It would be one thing if it were simply that by itself, but the following episodes further push the idea that Takeru really is starting to change after witnessing all of this. 02 episode 36 has him explicitly acknowledge what Iori’s been doing this whole time in trying to understand him for the sake of their Jogress, and, finally, during their meal later that episode, he says, very openly and honestly, that he thinks they’ll be able to do it now. After two instances of Jogress, these kids are very aware of what that entails -- so this is basically Takeru consciously acknowledging to Iori “yes, I understand that you’re trying to reach out to me, and I accept it and want to understand you.” Because Takeru is such a convoluted sort of person, this “understanding” ended up being something that didn’t span a single magical moment as much as it took several episodes and a diplomatic, conscious affirmation on both ends -- but it’s a fitting way to go for someone who had always indicated some pretty poor conscious awareness of where his feelings were taking him.

This is especially because, in 02 episode 37, his statements to comfort Ken are in pretty significant opposition to the sort of anger he’d displayed in earlier episodes, and are now a more pragmatic view of the issue in light of Iori’s efforts and everything he’d just witnessed with BlackWarGreymon -- and to drive the point home, the episode has, at the very end of it, Takeru making his first true explicit show of goodwill towards Ken after having been a bit touchy with him for so many episodes.

Iori himself, being the youngest of the 02 group, still has a lot to learn, and so Takeru, who had previously been one of the youngest in the Adventure group himself, now has his role inverted to effectively be a guiding mentor to Iori as he finds his own way. Basically, Takeru becomes responsible for the welfare of this young child, and so his way of treating Iori is markedly different from the more detached and playful way he would treat others from here on out. This is especially because, earlier, Yamato had informed him that Iori had taken a very roundabout way to help understand him better, and so Takeru probably understands that he scared the hell out of Iori earlier and needs to do better. While the Takeru of 02 episodes 38-50 still has a way of being playful, and while he still isn’t completely straightforward about his intentions, he is definitely much better about being open with the others, especially Iori, instead of doubling down on his “everything-is-fine” mode.

And perhaps this is what the other meaning of “hope” thus became in this situation -- learning to be forward-facing even in the midst of truly knowing and understanding everything that’s wrong with the situation.

Post-02

Although Takeru’s Spring 2003 track is addressed to no one in particular, meaning that it’s the most likely reason he’s so willing to be open about it, Takeru outright admits he’s having problems with his emotions -- especially those pertaining to Angemon’s death. We do, however, learn that Takeru’s started writing the early, early drafts of what’ll eventually end up becoming the novels he writes as a future career.

This being only a year after the events of 02, Takeru’s position is interesting. His decision to start writing is that he wants to have a record of everything before it’s forgotten -- because these things are very personal to him -- but he’s not emotionally ready for the huge task of finalizing everything in words, to the point he still hasn’t told his mother he’s started writing yet. After all, this is a book we eventually find out takes upwards of twenty years, and so this is the presumable reason why -- being able to get this down in a rational way that’s not emotionally compromising is going to be an upwards battle for him.

Even come Kizuna, there’s still a long way for him to go, because an actual line (in a very fast-paced movie) is dedicated to establishing that he’s still uncomfortable with his novel progress to the point he won’t even let Yamato see it. His official character profile and background details are revealing, too -- although he’s currently taking language classes in university and is even part of a children’s literature club, he still hasn’t actually decided on what to do with his future, meaning that he hasn’t determined that he’s going to be a full-time novelist with these yet. That means that even though he’s clearly still clacking away at his novel (multiple indications in the movie are given as such), his memoirs are still at the level of being so deeply personal, and not something he feels comfortable telling well, just yet.

I’ve pointed out before that despite not appearing directly with them in the movie, Takeru and Hikari have more in common with the others in the 02 group than they do with their Adventure seniors, and this is fully codified in the drama CD when Takeru is content to basically just “do whatever” with the rest of his friends instead of having any particular concerns about his future. And as someone who has a tendency to kind of just let his emotions take him wherever they’re going, this isn’t too surprising. Although he approximates as the closest to level-headed during most of the group’s antics during the CD, he’s still completely guilty of enabling them full-force, after all...

So, with the 02 epilogue, we get the massive meta reveal that the entire series was Takeru’s novels the whole time. This was planned to be the ending for Adventure before recording for the first episode had even started, but was postponed to the end of 02 when the second series was greenlit -- and if you’d followed the Japanese version, there are a ton of meta hints scattered around from day one:

The narrator of the series is Hirata Hiroaki, who played Takeru and Yamato’s father, and is revealed in this episode to voice him as an adult as well;

Episode 12 of Adventure is named “Adventure! Patamon and Me” and is the only episode title in Adventure or 02 to use a first-person pronoun -- and it’s of course a Takeru-centric episode, with the episode title using Takeru’s boku;

02′s first episode kicks off narrated by young Takeru opening the story, with Takeru himself suspiciously omitted from the opening vignettes;

02 episode 18 suddenly has the narration cut in when discussing Takeru’s trauma from Adventure episode 13, with the younger Takeru even filling in part of it himself;

02 episode 49′s “next episode” preview for 50 suddenly also starts using “we”, which also includes Takeru’s boku;

Finally, Takeru starts narrating right after Oikawa’s death, which fades into what’s revealed to be his adult voice.

In the context of Adventure, Takeru was “the youngest child”, so the idea makes sense that “the littlest one” would be the one to grow up and reflect on all of the adventures they had as kids -- and once 02 was added, it practically made sense that Takeru would be the one to recap both adventures, being the one person who was there to completely witness both (it also explains why Takeru and Hikari’s character arcs remain somewhat unresolved by the end of Adventure compared to others, since by this time it was apparent their story would be continued in the second series). So on a meta level, Takeru is, in a certain way, one of the most important characters in both groups.

On a level relevant to his personal character arc, on the other hand, the point here is that Takeru finally managed to put together his book and story in a way that he was comfortable telling the entire world about, to the point of choosing to make his entire career into it. That’s something that requires a lot of coming to terms with what happened, how he feels about it, how others feel about it, and everything about the whole ordeal in general, without compromise or (too much) bias.

And in the end, that’s really a lot!

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #takaishi takeru #takeru takaishi #shihameta

290 notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Tell the Truth

Prompts: aaaa the way you write angst is just *chefs kiss* wonderful. I’ve been really enjoying the butterfly project series, it has made me cry multiple times. May I request some fluff to balance the angst? - anon

Excuse me while I sob over Redemption Never Came and politely grabby hand for more angst with a happy ending (Roman angst my beloved) (Also you are an amazing fanfic artist :D) - anon

This is so heartbreaking and whumpy but so soft in the end and I would devour a second part about everyone trying to help undo all the negative patterns they've all instilled in Roman and just showing him affection and everyone's hearts breaking a little more each time he's surprised they actually want to be around him. - LadyofhteWoods

And now a part of me wants to see all those scenarios again, only this time Roman gets loved- walk in the kitchen, get a hug. Sit on the couch? Cuddle pile. Go on a quest? Bring friends, if hurt, patch up and movies. Crying in bed because you had a bad time and your brain is screaming that you suck and a wave of depression has rippled through you and you feel horrible? Have some tea… cry it out…. We’re here. - A_tiny_star_prince

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: self-doubt, self-deprecating thoughts

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 7688

Roman lies. A lot. Maybe it's time they did something about it.

Roman’s lies don’t vanish overnight. How could they? When he’s so used to repeating them, over and over, in a horrific little mantra before he goes to sleep, how can he be expected to get rid of them in only one night?

That doesn’t make them less difficult to hear.

Janus is downstairs, helping Virgil fold up one of the blankets strewn about the living room, when he winces and hisses.

“J? You okay?”

Janus nods, jerking his head upward. Virgil follows his gaze and winces too.

“…Princey?”

“I think so.” That’s a lie. He knows it’s Roman.

“I got this,” Virgil says quietly, taking the blanket from Janus, “you go. He seems to let you help more than he lets us.”

He never really had the choice to let me.

Janus swallows heavily as he appears outside Roman’s door. The lies aren’t nearly as poisonous as they were a few days ago, but they’re strong enough to curl his tongue at the bitterness in his throat. He raises a hand to knock on the door.

The lies falter for a moment before another one floats through.

Don’t come in.

He smirks, gently pushing the door open to meet a darkened room.

“Impressive,” he says softly, making his way over to the figure in the bed and perching on the end, “that could’ve been one of mine.”

He’s rewarded with the quietest of huffs before a head shyly peeks out at him from the covers. Janus smiles and tilts his head.

“Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi.” Roman shuffles a little. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was summoning you.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Janus glances around the room. His computer is off and shut. The bathroom light and fan are off. He looks back. “Can I help, sweetie?”

A shuffling of the blankets that’s probably supposed to be a shrug.

“Let me come find you, then,” he murmurs, standing and moving to where the head was a moment ago, “how did you get this many blankets on top of you?”

He slowly starts to move them out of the way, peeling back layer after layer, only briefly wondering whether or not Roman can breathe properly under these. It’s a careful act, one he treats with the same reverence as cleaning his gloves or his scales, creating a little cocoon of blankets as he gets further and further into the covers.

The last one puffs just the slightest amount, up and down.

So you can breathe, good.

Janus doesn’t move this one all the way out of the way, just lifts it up enough to peer inside. Roman’s little face peers back at him, partially covered by another blanket clutched tight to his chest. He looks so…child-like.

The realization makes something warm turn in Janus’s chest.

“Knock knock,” he says softly, “anyone home?”

Roman blinks. “Mm.”

“May I come in, sweetie?”

“Mm.” Roman jerks his chin toward Janus’s clothes. “Lose the sharp bits.”

Janus snaps his fingers, transforming his usual clothes into a soft yellow shirt and sleep pants. “Better?”

“Mm.”

“How did you manage to get so many blankets balanced on your bed,” Janus asks as he slips beside Roman, “mine always fall off after three.”

“Practice.” Roman shifts to make room.

Janus frowns. “Come here, sweetie, let me cuddle you.”

“You don’t have to.”

The frown deepens. “Sweetie?”

Roman buries his face a little deeper into the blanket. “You don’t like cuddling. Virgil an’ Remus said so.”

Oh, Roman…

“Come, sweetie,” he insists, tugging Roman gently into a proper hug, “there.”

“But—but—“

“I may not be as big a fan of cuddling as you and Patton,” Janus says firmly, cupping Roman’s face, “and I’m certainly the type that enjoys being tackled by Remus—“

Roman snorts.

“—but you’re upset,” he finishes gently, “and I want to help.”

Burden.

Needy.

Don’t understand boundaries.

Don’t deserve help.

Janus hisses. Roman sighs.

“Sorry.”

“No need for that,” he assures, still cradling Roman’s face as he pulls him close, “I understand. It’s alright.”

“I know, and I—I don’t want you to leave, but—“ Roman swallows— “I just—I still don’t believe you’re here.”

Janus wraps a pair of arms around Roman’s waist and squeezes. “I’m real, I’m here.”

“I just—“

There’s another lie swirling in Roman’s brain, too nebulous to make it all the way to Janus, but present enough that it makes his mouth tingle. He leans down to kiss Roman’s forehead.

“…you said it was your job to protect the Ego.”

“That’s right, sweetie, it is.”

“I guess I…I just…”

Janus gives Roman another encouraging squeeze. Roman brings the blanket further up his face.

“…I guess I figured that if you—if you could h-hate me that much or h-hurt me that badly and not—not care, then you…maybe you…”

Janus’s heart clenches as the lie finally makes itself known.

Not worth protecting.

He pulls away, shushing the heartbroken whine that Roman makes, taking off his gloves and wrapping every arm around the poor thing. He presses another kiss to his forehead, letting the hiss out into his hair.

“That’s not true, sweetie,” he promises, “and you’ll never know how sorry I am for hurting you and letting it get this far.”

And the poor thing is so tired, so weary that he goes limp in Janus’s arms, save for the blanket clutched tightly to his face. Janus frowns, opening his mouth to say that might be a little uncomfortable, what with Roman’s arms tucked between them, when he starts putting the pieces together.

Roman is still wearing a fair amount of clothing, he’s got something pressed up against his face, under his chin, and he’s got so many blankets piled on top of him that even Janus feels warm.

“And here I thought I couldn’t feel more rotten,” he whispers, carding one hand through Roman’s hair, another scratching gently between his shoulder blades, “but you must be in agony.”

A questioning hum is let out against his throat.

“You’re still touch starved, sweetie,” he says in way of answering, squeezing a little tighter, “are you still cold?”

There’s a soft rush of breath as Janus cups the back of his neck and then a noise is just about torn from his throat as he uses it to pull Roman close.

“Oh, shh, shh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to his cheek, “I’m right here, sweetie, I won’t leave you.”

They lie there for a while longer, Roman’s arms slowly lowering the blanket until he shyly puts his arms around Janus in return.

“There you go, sweetie,” he encourages, “hold onto me, that’s it.”

“Why—why are you letting me hug you?”

“Because it seems like you’d like to hug me.” Janus squeezes him again. “You don’t need to have a reason, sweetie, if you need a cuddle, you can have one.”

I need a reason. I need an excuse. I need an argument. I have to convince you.

Another hiss. “You can always ask for hugs, sweetie, you don’t need to convince me to hug you.”

“…really?”

Oh, Roman… “Yes, sweetie, you can ask any of us.”

The wave of disbelief that hits him makes him grit his teeth.

“I promise, sweetie. I promise.” Another kiss to his forehead. “You’re not unwanted, you’re not a burden.”

The silence he gets implies that Roman may not want to prove that—or disprove it—for himself right now.

“…can we just stay here for a bit?”

“For as long as you need, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, settling them in for some rest, “for as long as you want.”

——————————

Patton is in the kitchen, the first one downstairs this morning. There’s already a pot of coffee brewing and he sets the kettle up on the counter. He reaches up to pull the mugs for everyone. The plain black one for Logan, the Nightmare Before Christmas one for Virgil, the sparkly one for Remus, and the blue puppy one for himself. He frowns.

Roman used to keep his mug down here too. This really big red one with a golden crown on the side. He hasn’t seen it in ages.

Footsteps on the stairs.

He turns and sees Roman walk into the kitchen, smiling brightly as if there’s nothing wrong in the world, not a seam or stitch of his prince costume out of place. He strides into the room like he owns it, as if he’s just come down the stairs in his resplendent palace to a crown of adoring onlookers.

“Ah! Patton!” Goodness, he speaks like it too. “Good morning!”

“Roman!” Patton rushes forward and wraps him in a hug.

This is where everything goes wrong.

Roman tenses. Not in a way that means he wants out, but out of sheer surprise. Patton waits for Roman’s arms to wrap around him but instead, there’s just a very, very soft touch to his shoulder.

“Patton,” he asks quietly, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great, kiddo, why?”

“W-well, you’re…you’re hugging me.”

“Sure am.”

“…why?”

Suddenly Patton feels very cold.

He pulls back, not enough to let Roman go completely, but enough to look up and see a truly heartbreaking look of confusion on his face. He can’t help the soft noise that comes out of his mouth as he raises one hand to his face.

“Are you asking why I’m hugging you?” Roman nods. “I want to hug you, kiddo. You’re hug-shaped.”

“I’m…what?”

“Hug-shaped,” Patton repeats, tugging him a little closer with the arm still around his waist, “you’re worth hugging, I like hugging you.”

“O-oh.”

And Patton has to watch as every scrap of confidence falls from Roman’s expression, his shoulders slump, and he looks like he loses some of his height, even. The shift is so drastic that it almost springs tears to his eyes at how much Prince Roman suddenly looks like a lost child, swimming in a costume too big and too heavy for him. Roman face contorts as he looks at a spot on the counter, furrowing his brow as if it’ll explain everything to him if he just glares hard enough.

There’s something fragile about the way Roman leans into Patton’s hand, something breakable about how warm he is right now. Patton shifts his weight to his other leg and there’s a flash of panic in Roman’s eyes, quickly stifled but there.

“Oh, kiddo, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pulling Roman back in for a proper hug, “I’m right here, it’s okay. You just let it out, okay?”

Roman’s breathe shudders a little into Patton’s shoulder. Then he starts pushing Patton away.

Patton listens, confused, until he watches Roman shake himself and put the mask of the prince right back on.

“Terribly sorry,” he says in the awful, awful cheerful voice as he rakes a hand through his hair, “don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t,” Patton blurts before he can stop himself, “don’t do that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t do what, Padre?”

“Don’t pretend,” he says, reaching out for Roman again, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Or that you don’t want something.”

“I don’t like being needy, Patton,” Roman says in a soft voice that’s just this side of wobbly, “and you don’t like me needy.”

And doesn’t that just feel hot and guilty in Patton’s throat?

“I like you, sweetheart,” he says instead, “and you’re not being needy if you want comfort or even just a touch. You’re allowed to want something, Roman, you are.”

Roman huffs in disbelief and turns.

“No, Roman—“ Patton hurries to get in front of him— “you are.”

Something flickers across Roman’s expression. Patton doesn’t even need Janus to tell him that Roman thinks he’s walking into a trap.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Patton says quietly, “I’ve hurt you so much, haven’t I? I’ve made you think that your job is wrong, that you—that you’re wrong and you’re not, kiddo. You’re not wrong. You’re not awful. I promise.”

Roman’s lip wobbles.

“Oh, come here, sweetheart,” Patton coos, wrapping him back in a hug, and finally, finally Roman’s arms come up to wrap around him too, before he’s being squeezed so tight it borders on painful.

Patton doesn’t care.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart, I promise.” He rocks them back and forth a little as Roman buries his face in his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, I know we will.”

They stay like that until the kettle goes off and Roman startles, jumping back a little bit. Patton soothes away the last of the jitters and smiles, watching Roman look like…Roman. Not the Prince, not the horribly lost child, just…just Roman.

“I think that’s my cue to make you the biggest mug of hot chocolate you’ve had since Christmas,” he says quietly, “now what mug would you like?”

Roman glances at the cabinet. “Anyone is fine.”

“Then why don’t you go grab one while I get the hot chocolate?”

Patton busies himself with the box, purposely letting Roman have his privacy as he picks out a mug, trying not to make his smile too blinding when he turns and sees Roman shyly hold out a big red mug with a sparkly crown.

“Good choice,” he says softly as he takes it from him, “I missed this mug.”

Judging by the way Roman’s mouth curls up in a little smile, he knows what Patton meant.

——————————

Virgil walks into the room and sees Roman sprawled out across the chair. He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s got to give it to Janus; even though he knows he can hear lies, he’s not sure he would’ve believed that they were actually coming from Roman. Because Roman looks the fucking picture of relaxed right now. It looks like he saw Patton and Logan on the couch and decided there wasn’t enough room for him to take up as much space as he wants. It looks like he’s occupying the entire fucking corner and not just the chair. It looks like he’s every bit the arrogant prince they used to think he was.

Then he sees how tight his jaw is and the slight tremble of his hands.

The room isn’t warm, there’s no reason for Princey to be shivering. There’s certainly no reason for him to be so tense as he sits in the chair, tapping a pen against his cheek in a fabulous impression of mindless thinking but is actually a carefully controlled way of preventing himself from moving any further.

He’s gotta hand it to him. Princey’s good.

Virgil walks up to Roman and shoves his hands into his pockets as Roman looks up.

“Dark and Stormy,” he says in a perfected casual lilt, “is there something I can do for you?”

And wow, okay, if this is what Janus hears all the time then Virgil has no idea how he fucking does it.

Janus hears lies, Virgil hears fears.

Please don’t make me leave.

If you want the chair I’l give it to you, I’ll move, I’ll sit on the floor, I’ll be quiet, but please don’t make me go. I want to stay, please, can I—can I stay? Is that okay?

Virgil tilts his head. “Move the book.”

Roman furrows his brow. “What?”

“The book.” Virgil nods to the notebook in Roman’s lap. “Move it. Move your arm.”

Confused, Roman does as he asks only to squeak in surprise when Virgil pronounces it perfect and plonks himself in Roman’s lap.

“Virgil!”

“Yeah?” Virgil pulls out his phone and leans his head against Roman’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“You—you’re—“ Roman still doesn’t move— “you’re in my lap.”

“Sure am.” Virgil looks up at him and lowers his voice to a whisper. “No?”

Roman’s voice drops too. “What?”

Virgil indicates his weight. “No? This okay?”

“Y-yeah, it’s fine, I just—what?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Virgil reaches behind him to take Roman’s free hand and pull it close, tucking it under his chin and clutching it there. Roman’s hand trembles. He finds himself absentmindedly running his thumb over the knuckles, the palm, the fingers. He keeps his eyes on Roman’s face.

Roman’s other arm lowers, gingerly resting on Virgil’s legs. Virgil smiles and squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry, Princey,” he whispers, “I’ve been fucking awful to you.”

Roman’s face twitches. “…so have I.”

“What, been awful to me or awful to you?”

For a moment, he thinks Roman’s just going to say that he’s been awful to Virgil. Which, yes, he was in the past, but not like Virgil’s been. But instead, Roman opens his mouth and shakily whispers: ‘both.’

“I know, Princey.” Virgil squeezes his hand again. “You’re all good with me, and we can…if you want, I can help with the second part too.”

Roman’s eyes widen and godfuckingdamnit that hurts.

“I gotcha, Roman,” he says softly, lacing their fingers together, “and ‘m sorry I haven’t been there for you recently.”

Roman swallows, Virgil’s eyes drawn to the roll of his throat. “You…you want to help me?”

Roman, you’re gonna ruin my reputation of not having a heart by smashing it into fucking pieces.

“Yeah, Roman,” he reassures, “I wanna help you. You’re important.”

“I am?”

“Sure are, Princey.” He lightly knocks his head against Roman’s. “And if it ever feels like I don’t believe that, call me out on my bullshit. ‘Cause that’s bullshit.”

“What are you two muttering about over there?” Patton shakes his head fondly when Virgil decides to just turn his head upside down instead of turning around. “Virgil, that’s not good for your spine.”

“We’re metaphysical, Pop-star, who cares?”

“When you start complaining about neck pain,” Logan says wryly, “me.”

He glances up too and Virgil hides a smirk at how his face softens when he spots Roman’s expression.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Roman says hurriedly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s Hug Roman time,” Virgil says immediately after, “so I’m hugging Roman.”

“I think that’s less of a hug than you sitting on his lap,” Logan says, standing, “but we’ll never fit all of us on that chair.”

Virgil feels more than hears Roman’s inhale as Logan and Patton start moving the couch cushions to the floor. He sits back upright just in time to see Roman’s hopeful face and butts his head against his again.

“Come on, Princey, let’s go.”

“…are you going to stand up, or…?”

“Or you could carry me.”

“Virgil,” he hears Patton chide.

“No, no,” Roman says, “it’s fine, I can carry him if he wants to be carried. I will need my hand back, though.”

Okay, yes, Virgil does enjoy Roman carrying him a bit too much for altruistic purposes but it’s worth it when Roman goes to gently set him down and the other two pull him down instead.

“There,” Logan says softly as Roman’s head comes to rest against the base of the couch, “much better.”

Roman opens his mouth to say something when Logan’s hand tangles in his hair and it turns into a slightly strangled sound. Patton chuckles, wrapping his arms around Roman and sighing softly.

“Hey, who wants to play a game?”

Remus’s head pops up from behind the couch.

“We’re already playing a game,” Virgil says, “it’s called Cuddle Roman, now get your butt down here.”

Remus gasps. “My favorite!”

“Okay good,” Virgil mutters as he moves out of Roman’s lap to make room for Remus, “I totally thought he was talking about butts.”

“I have a feeling, my dear,” Janus sighs, striding from the shadows and totally not making Virgil jump, “that it’s both.”

Remus just cackles. Janus takes a seat, reaching out to take one of Roman’s hands in his. Roman frowns at him slightly, his head still spinning from the amount of people around him.

“What—is there something wrong?”

Janus shakes his head. “It’s Hug Roman hours. So I’m here.”

Vigil chuckles at the blush on Roman’s face. “So this is becoming a regular thing, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Indeed.”

“Yay!”

Remus just holds his brother tighter.

——————————

“…come in.”

“If you’d like to reschedule, Roman, it’s no trouble, I’m happy to…”

Logan trails off as he walks into the room, Roman’s back to him as he hunches over a table near the door to the Imagination. He shuts the door quietly behind him and tucks the notebook under his arm.

“Roman?” He takes a step forward. “Are you alright?”

“Never better, Specs,” Roman says cheerily, too cheerily, “just give me one moment and I’m all yours.”

Logan frowns. “If you’d like to reschedule, Roman,” he repeats, softer this time, “I can assure you, it’s fine.”

“No, no, that’d be rude.” Something crinkles in Roman’s hands. “Just—just one moment.”

There’s a heavy clunk and a barely contained hiss.

“Roman—“ he starts forward— “are you hurt?”

“Not hurt.” Another clunk. “Just…incredibly clumsy, it seems.”

“Can I help?”

If he weren’t paying attention, he would miss the way Roman’s shoulders tense with disbelief.

“N-no, that’s alright,” Roman says, the first time his voice has slipped, “I’m just…no, it’s alright.”

He jerks his head toward the desk, being very careful not to let Logan see his face.

“It’s over there, I’ll be with you in one moment.”

Logan looks, then walks over to the desk and carefully sets down his notebook. He glances up at Roman and can’t stop the soft noise at seeing Roman’s hands shake and fumble with a large bottle.

“Roman,” he calls softly, “Roman, please.”

Roman freezes.

“…please what?”

“Let me help you,” he says, walking over, “let me help you with this.”

Roman shudders and tries to laugh again. “You don’t need to busy yourself with inane and worthless tasks, Logan.”

Oh. Oh, dear.

“You’re not inane or worthless, Roman,” he says firmly, “nor are you a task.”

Roman’s shoulder is cold under his hand. He cups it nonetheless and leans closer, mindful to keep his gaze down and away.

“Please?”

Under his hand, Roman sighs. “…if that’s what you want.”

He’s not prepared for when Roman turns around, a bottle of micellar water in one hand and cotton ovals in the other. His makeup—done so wonderfully this morning—is smeared and wearing away, his nose bright red under the concealer. Logan lets out another soft noise, taking the proffered items and gently pushing Roman to sit on the table.

He takes one of the cotton ovals and gets it damp, cupping Roman’s chin in one hand.

“Let me know if anything starts to sting or hurt,” he instructs softly and starts to clean the smudges from his face. Roman sits perfectly still, his gaze down at Logan’s tie. His hands fold neatly in his lap and he looks every bit the cooperative ideal.

Except for the way he looks terrified every time Logan so much as shifts his hand.

“You are not worthless,” Logan says quietly as he works, swapping out the cotton ovals when needed, “you are not annoying me. You are someone I care about very deeply and someone I enjoy helping.”

Roman’s chin wobbles.

“I am always impressed by the ideas you create,” he continues after quietly bidding Roman to turn slightly, “and you never cease to amaze me with your creativity.”

Roman’s throat works against his hand as he swallows. “Remus—“

“Remus is Remus,” Logan interrupts gently, “turn—yes, there you go—and you are Roman. You are clever, you are kind, and you are wonderful, and I care about you very much.”

He takes a new cotton oval and takes Roman’s chin again, tapping gently until Roman makes eye contact.

“Close your eyes,” he bids, “and let me know if they start to sting at any point.”

Roman closes his eyes and Logan carefully, carefully starts to clean off the eyeshadow. The golden sparkles are stubborn, clinging to the skin, but he works patiently until the last of them come off. He realizes after that the oval is wetter than it was when he began.

“Oh, little star,” he breathes, glancing around and summoning a soft washcloth to clean Roman’s face the rest of the way, “it’s alright, you can cry if you need to. I won’t mind.”

“It’s stupid,” Roman mutters, raising a hand to swipe angrily at the tears, “it’s stupid.”

“If it’s making you upset, it’s not stupid.” Logan gently but firmly places Roman’s hands on his own shoulders and replaces them with the cloth. “Tell me?”

“I—it’s not even a quest.” Roman’s voice cracks horribly on the last word. “It’s just—I was making something and it broke and I—I worked really hard on it and now it’s ruined.”

Logan lets out a soft noise. “I’m sorry.”

His chest aches when the apology makes Roman shake himself. “It’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t want to just dump that on you.”

“I asked you to tell me what was wrong,” Logan chides, patting his cheek dry, “you’re not dumping anything on me.”

He sets the cloth aside and cups Roman’s face with his hands.

“And I am also sorry,” he whispers, “that I have made you believe that I do not worry about you the same way I worry about Thomas.”

Roman’s eyes fly open. “You—you what?”

“I care about you very deeply, Roman,” Logan says, “you’re very important to me. So yes, of course, I worry about you. You’re upset, and I’ve made you feel like you can’t come to me. I…I have not behaved well toward you. And I will remedy that.”

A new wave of tears meets Logan’s thumbs carefully swiping them away.

“Bonk?”

Roman leans forward and lets Logan rest their foreheads together. After a moment, his hands move to give Roman a proper hug, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

“What were you making, if I may ask?”

“…just a house.” Roman sniffles. “It got destroyed in the last brainstorm.”

“Would you like help?”

“…don’t we have to work on the ideas?��

Logan smiles, resting their foreheads together once more. “This feels more important, doesn’t it?”

Roman’s small but warm smile is more than worth the extra hours they’ll have to spend working on the videos.

——————————

Somehow they forgot.

Somehow they forgot that Roman was scared of the dark.

It wasn’t common that thunderstorms plagued the Imagination, simply because—well, Thomas didn’t need literal brainstorms when he’s got Logan working with him. Sure, sometimes Remus decides he’s going to make his entrance extra cliché and arrive in a literal flash of lightning. Or Roman will create a field of flowers larger than the eye can see and soft bruised purple clouds will roll across the sky, quiet thunder and light rain that feels like a cushion.

But it’s never enough to cause a blackout.

For a moment, they’re all just confused. Thomas’s apartment is fine, Thomas is fine, so they don’t understand what’s happened. Then Remus points out that they, uh, maybe didn’t close the door to the Imagination as tightly as they should have.

He gets smacked upside the head for that.

So they’re here, in the middle of the dark, trying frantically to figure out how to not run into everything. Well, three of them are fine. Virgil can see in the dark. Janus can see in the dark. Remus can see in the dark.

“Is that because you’re the Dark Sides,” Patton mumbles as he puts his glasses back on for the fifth time in the past minute, “or do you each have some kind of ability?”

Remus smiles, even if Patton can’t see it. “It’s more fun!”

“That doesn’t—“ Logan pinches the bridge of his nose— “that doesn’t even answer the question, Remus.”

“I think you’ll find that’s his justification for most things,” Janus says wryly, taking Patton carefully by the arm and guiding him to sit on the couch, safely out of harm’s way.

Virgil elbows Remus to get him to put down the Morningstar, please, and sits down next to Patton. “How long is this going to take to go away?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Probably won’t be that long. We all just gotta sit tight.”

Janus raises a hand to his mouth—not that Logan can truly appreciate his expression—and mock gasps. “Remus, suggesting that we don’t do anything?”

“Oh, fuck off, Snakey.”

“Language!”

Remus blows a fat raspberry. “Even I know it’s a bad idea to try and do something right now. I mean ask Roman—“

It takes a moment for them to realize that Roman isn’t sitting there.

“We should go get him,” Logan says after a moment, “just to make sure we’re all in the same place.”

And with that, Remus is off, stomping up the stairs and conveniently forgetting that two Sides can’t see past the little pinpricks of light at the bottom of the windows. Virgil rolls his eyes and makes to stand, only to frown.

“Virgil?” Logan touches his elbow when he notices him pause. “Are you alright?”

“Feels like I’m being summoned.” He rubs his chest absentmindedly. “But not really.”

“Well, let’s just keep an eye on—hey!”

Virgil doesn’t even hear the end of Logan’s sentence before he’s yanked into another room.

He blinks, disoriented, shaking his head to figure out where he is. Only when Remus bursts up the stairs and pouts that how dare Virgil sink out to beat him here does he realize why he’s here.

Judging by the way Remus’s face falls a second later, he does too.

Remus knocks lightly on the door. After a moment, he curses and goes to knock louder.

“Don’t,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Remus’s arm, “you’re gonna freak him out more.”

“Well, I can’t just blow the fucking door open,” he growls, shaking him off, “that’s gonna make it worse.”

He opens his mouth but another sharp tug from his chest makes him wince. “Okay, then don’t bust it down. Just—oh, god, we gotta get in there.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Remus doesn’t rear back and kick the door open, which says something about how concerned he is. They can’t see much of anything except for—

—oh.

Oh, no.

Roman notices immediately when the blackout happens. How could he not? He’d been in the middle of trying to sort out his journal for the day when suddenly he was drowning.

Oh god.

Oh, god.

Within an instant, his chest seizes. He can’t see. He can’t see. There’s something—

No. No, it’s fine. He’s in his room. Everything is fine. Because he’s safe. He’s in his room, he knows where everything is, he knows what everything is in here, he’s fine.

There’s nothing here to be scared of. There’s nothing here to be scared of.

So why is Roman so scared?

He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be. He’s a prince, for Disney’s sake, he’s the protector of the Mindscape, he’s—he’s—

He’s Prince Roman. Not some newly minted squire crying because he’s away from home for the first time and it’s all dark and scary and he can’t see anything because he doesn’t know what’s going on and he can’t tell where anything is and he swears he can see things moving in the shadows and—and—and—

Roman shoves his fist in his mouth before he can whimper.

No. No. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

…besides, what would the others say?

He’s a prince. He’s Roman. He’s not some scared weak thing. He’s just—he’s just—it’s—it’s—

They can’t see him like this. He’s supposed to be strong. He’ll never be taken seriously if they don’t see that he can be strong. They don’t take him seriously already, do they? Let alone if they could see him in the dark, alone, hyperventilating, terrified.

But he is.

He’s—he—

Something moves.

Oh, god, something moved.

He freezes, goes absolutely still, tries frantically to still his heaving chest, be small, be unnoticeable, his pride doesn’t matter right now, it doesn’t, he’s not gonna be hurt if he can’t be seen—

“Ro-Bro?”

His next inhale is a whine.

No, no, not Remus—he can’t—not Remus, Remus is strong, Remus will laugh at him, Remus loves the dark, he can’t cry in front of Remus, not for this—

“Oh, Ro-Bro,” he hears through the haze, “Ro-Bro, I’m so fucking sorry, I forgot, hey—hey—“

He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry.

“Hey,” Remus calls, tugging carefully at the hand clapped over his mouth, “hey, don’t do that, Roro, you’re gonna hurt yourself, stop it, it’s gonna fucking hurt if you do that, you know that—“

The sob that tears itself out of his throat as Remus pries his hand away hurts his ears.

“Hey, Roro,” Remus soothes, taking his hands and squeezing them firmly, “hey, you gotta just be here for me, you focus on me, okay?”

“Re—“

“Come here, Ro.”

Remus scoops him up into his lap. To hell with whatever is twisting around in the shadows, Remus is holding him in his lap, rocking him back and forth and Remus is of the dark.

A rush of shame through his stomach and the first real sob into Remus’s shoulder hurts.

“Nuh-uh, Ro,” comes the mutter over his head, “don’t hold it in.”

The shame only grows. Then Remus tightens his grip until it’s all he can feel.

“I’m right here, Ro, I’m right here. It’s okay. You can be scared.”

“N-not scared.”

A gentle hiss in his ear as something—someone presses against his back and more arms than he can count wrap around his chest.

“Shh, shh,” Remus murmurs as he starts, “it’s just Janny.”

“Boo,” Janus whispers as he presses a kiss on his shoulder. Why—why is he here—did he—did he lie too much? He’s not scared, he’s not scared—

“Shh, sweetie,” he whispers as Roman starts to flinch, “I’ve got you, you’re okay, sweetie, stop that. We’ve got you.”

“You’re scared, bud.” Is that—is that Virgil? “Hey, hey, buddy, we got you. I’m sorry, Roman, I forgot you were so scared of the dark.”

Can’t be scared, can’t be scared—

“Shh, shh, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “stop that. You’re allowed to be scared, it’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Virgil presses closer, nudging Janus’s head out of the way and replacing it with his own. He leans down to nuzzle into the crook of Roman’s neck, finding the place his collar digs into his neck and loosening it. Curse him. Curse him.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil murmurs, “you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“N-no—“

Janus hisses gently in his ear again.

“No—“ Roman’s breath hitches— “no, no, no—“

“Roman,” comes Logan’s warm voice from somewhere above him, and no—

“Give him to me,” he hears again after a moment, and when he feels Remus’s arms begin to loosen and Janus pulls away he mewls—

“Hush, little one,” Logan says softly, gathering the poor prince into his lap, “you’re safe, you’re right here, it’s just a blackout.”

“You’ll—“ Roman hiccups, his hands still pushing Logan away from him— “you’ll laugh—“

“Never,” comes the chorus, Logan’s arms firmly around his waist. Then another pair of hands covers his and pulls them away.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, gently but firmly placing his arms around Logan’s neck so Logan can cuddle him properly, “sorry it took us a little longer to get here, we had to take it slow up the stairs.”

“Pat—Pat—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patton coos, crouching down to run a hand through his hair as Logan tucks him into the crook of his neck and Virgil rests his head on his shoulder, “we’re all here, it’s okay.”

“Stupid—st—stupid,” Roman mumbles, “I’m stupid—“

Another hiss, followed by a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Stop lying, sweetie,” Janus whispers, “stop it. You’re not stupid.”

“I’m a prince afraid of the dark,” Roman spits out, disgusted, “of course I’m stupid.”

“Falsehood,” Logan murmurs with more tenderness than Roman can remember, “you’re not stupid. You’re not.”

“I’m crying because I’m afraid of the dark,” he spits again, “I’m af-fraid of the dark—I’m afraid of the dark, I’m—I’m afraid—“

He’s afraid of the dark.

Patton presses a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t like the dark either, sweetheart.”

“You’re—you’re not—you’re not crying—“

“No, I’m not.” Another kiss. “But you are, Roman, and that’s okay.”

“Come on, Princey.” Virgil butts his head gently against Roman’s. “You just gotta breathe first, okay? We’re not going anywhere.”

Remus calls from somewhere over his shoulder—what has he been doing? Where’s he been?— “come on, I got all the pillows.”

“Re?”

“Come on, Ro-Bro,” Remus murmurs, appearing at his other shoulder, “close your eyes.”

“It’s already d-dark, Re.”

“I know, but I don’t wanna get the blanket in your eyes.” Suddenly, there’s a swath of fabric hitting him in the face. “It’s just for a moment, Roro.”

“Ready?” Logan scoops him up. “Up we go.”

“H-how can you see?”

“He can’t,” Janus says, suddenly appearing behind him, “but I can. Come now, my prince, we’re just over here, come on…”

Roman lets out a soft noise of surprise when his back hits something soft.

“Snap yourself into something more comfortable, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’re all just going to stay here for a while.”

Patton takes his hand and kisses the back of it as Logan helps tug down the t-shirt he’s poofed himself into.

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbles, “I’m sorry I’m so scared.”

“None of that now, sweetheart,” Patton chides, cuddling into his side—oh, Patton’s in soft things too now— “you’re gonna be taken care of now. We’re right here.”

“I’m right here, Ro-Bro,” Remus says, promptly flopping down over Roman’s legs, “and no one else is going anywhere.”

Virgil huffs, curling around his head and ruffling his hair. “He’s right, Princey. Just relax for a little.”

“H-how long is the blackout going to last?”

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Janus says, snuggling into his other side, taking his hand between two of his, “but we’ll be here the whole time. Now please, sweetie, breathe.”

He tries. But it’s still dark and even though he knows the others are here, he can still feel the darkness pressing in on top of him. He can still see things moving in the shadows. He can feel it. He can see it. It hurts.

“Roman,” comes Logan’s voice, warm in the dark, “Roman, listen to me.”

“L-Logan?”

“Yes, dear,” he says, “it’s alright. Virgil is by your head, and he can see in the dark.”

Virgil gives his hair a little tug. “Right here, Princey. I’ve got you.”

“Patton is on your left. He won’t let anything hurt you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses his cheek. “I won’t leave you.”

“Janus is on your right. He can also see in the dark, and it’s his job to protect you.”

Janus leans down to kiss his temple and squeezes his hand. “My prince,” he murmurs tenderly, “my sweetie.”

“And Remus…”

“Nothing’s laying a fucking finger on you, Ro-Bro,” Remus growls from down by his feet, “they’re gonna have to get through me first.”

Logan chuckles. “See?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, little star,” he says softly, “what do you need?”

“W—where are you?” Roman’s hands tense in Patton’s and Janus’s. “Where—I—I can’t—“

“Hush now,” Logan says, so softly, so softly, as a hand cups his cheek to brush away his tears, “I’m right here, I know you can’t see me. I’m sorry. I know it’s dark. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay, my dear, shh.”

Roman tries to reach out for him only to be thwarted by the grip on his hands.

“Hush, Roman, it’s alright, what can I do?”

“S-stay, please, stay—I want you to stay—“

“I’m right here, can I—“

“Please—“

He almost sobs again with relief when Logan lies down, his head tucked over his shoulder, curling his arms about his waist.

“We’re right here, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses the back of his hand.

“It’s okay to be scared, Princey.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Roro.”

It takes another half an hour for the storm to end and the lights to flicker back on. Roman stays tucked up in their arms, their soft words in his ear, gentle hands wiping away his tears, until he can blink up at all of them and murmur ‘thank you.’

“Of course, sweetie.”

“We’re here for you, Roman.”

“It’s no problem, Princey.”

“We’ve got you, kiddo.”

“All you gotta do is ask, Roro.”

——————————

Remus knocks on the door, the present in his hands. Roman opens the door and tilts his head.

“Re?”

“Can I come in, Ro-Bro?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.” Roman shuts the door. “What’s up?”

“This is for you,” Remus says, holding out the box.

“Oh—Remus, I didn’t—I’m sorry—“

“You didn’t miss anything, Ro,” Remus says quickly, “and I’m not expecting anything in return. Just wanted to give you something.”

He shuffles.

“And I, uh, I also haven’t really apologized for the shit I’ve done to you, so…it’s that too.”

“O-oh.” Roman clutches the box. “Thank you, Remus. Can I open it now?”

“Sure.” He watches as Roman carefully opens the box and pulls out the stuffed octopus.

“Oh, Re, this is so cute!” He holds it up, looking at the little face. “I love it, thank you.”

He turns it over.

“Wait, what’s…”

“It’s a mood toy,” Remus says quietly, “if you flip it this way, it’s happy.”

The cream side of the octopus has a little smiley face.

“And if you turn it inside out—“ Roman flips the plush so that a red face frowns at him— “it’s sad.”

Roman’s eyes widen and he looks up at Remus.

“I know you find it hard to ask for things,” Remus says, edging a bit closer, “so I thought this could…help.”

“Re…”

“And I—oof!” Remus lets out a grunt as Roman tackles him onto the bed. He chuckles, his arms wrapping tightly around his brother. “I’m glad you like it Roro, just promise me you’ll use it?”

He gets his request a few days later.

It’s been quiet, Thomas is taking a break, and they’re all in various corners of the living room. Janus and Virgil are lazing about in the patch of sun by the window, Patton is in the kitchen, Logan is working on something on his laptop, and Remus is toying with the grip on his Morningstar.

Roman walks down the stairs and he’s clutching a little red octopus.

“Hey, Ro,” Remus says quietly, hopping up and scurrying over to meet him as he comes down the stairs, “you wanna go be alone?”

Roman shakes his head, pushing gingerly into the living room. Remus turns to see everyone paying attention to them, including Janus, who’s sat up fully and is reaching out to Roman.

“Come here, sweetie,” he calls, “is your brain being a bastard?”

Distantly, Remus hears Patton huff at the language but no one says a word as Janus gathers Roman into his chest, bending to murmur softly in his ear. Virgil scoots closer, acting as the guardian, letting Roman relax with the knowledge that nothing will surprise him right now. A gentle tap on Remus’s shoulder and he turns to see Logan, who bends closer.

“What do we do to help?”

“Help me make a mattress big enough for all of us?”

Under Logan’s guidance, Remus manages to make a normal mattress with lots of comfy blankets and pillows. Patton comes from the kitchen with a glass of water set on the table near the three on the floor. He pauses as he turns and quickly sets a cup of tea next to it.

Roman’s grip on the octopus doesn’t lighten up, even after he’s been in Janus’s arms for a while, even after Logan’s gone over and helped Virgil walk him through coming out of the spiral. Janus walks over to Remus and Patton and quietly tells them they should try and get them all to eat something. Nothing too straining for Roman’s system, but something.

Patton brings out a few bowls of snack food and sets them at the foot of the mattress. Then he goes and gently cards his hands through Roman’s hair.

“Come on, kiddos,” he says softly, “let’s move to the mattress.”

Logan scoops Roman into his arms, depositing him safely in the center of the mattress, little red octopus in tow. The rest of them cuddle around him, some Disney movie playing on the TV. Roman eats, then lays his head on Remus’s shoulder. Logan takes Roman’s free hand into his lap and cradles it there, stroking it with his thumb.

About halfway through the movie, Roman turns the octopus so that the cream side smiles at the screen too.

General:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #logan sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #patton sanders #virgil sanders

96 notes · View notes

destieltropecollection · 3 years

Photo

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 23: Omegaverse

16 fics under the cut!

A Product of the Times | @pbandcas

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1,995 Main Tags/Warnings: Bottom!Castiel, Top!Dean Winchester, Omega!Castiel, Alpha!Dean, mating cycles/in heat, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse Summary: "Why do you do it? Why do you let him mark you in every way, other than the one you both want?" "Because. When do we ever get what we want?" In which 2009!Dean can't understand why his and Cas' future selves aren't mated.

Trapped | @vampamber

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,451 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, omega Dean, alpha Cas, heat sex, first time, pining Summary: Dean and Cas are trapped in a cabin during a hunt gone terribly wrong. What better time for Dean's heat to hit, right? Though at least his luck isn't all bad, because he has a nice angelic alpha to offer a bit of aide. After the emotional stuff gets worked out, at least.

Stripper-Gram | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,268 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, alpha Cas, omega Dean, stripper Dean, porn with plot, Dean in panties, panty kink Summary: When the unknown omega pulled away, Castiel couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his mouth. But then reality came crashing back and he remembered that he had no idea who this stranger was that had just kissed him stupid. The alpha stepped back, if just to resist temptation because those lips were made of sin incarnate. He cleared his throat before asking “Who are you?” The omega chuckled, the sound going straight to Castiel’s libido. “Dean Winchester, at your service. I’m your stripper-gram,” he explained. He smiled when he finished, and Castiel had to stop himself from whimpering again. Until Dean’s words properly registered in his brain, that is. “Wait, stripper-gram? What on Earth?”

Falling into your life | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,602 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Knotting, First Time, First Kiss, Scent Marking, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, Sub Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Dom Castiel (Supernatural), True Mates, Sassy Omega, Topping from the Bottom, Abusive John Winchester, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg Summary: Castiel had just moved into his new shitty apartment when, to top it all, someone crashes through his ceiling right into his living room. Castiel is not amused and angry at the Alpha, but it turns out first impressions can be very wrong and the shy Alpha does seem cute.

When in Heat | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,812 Main Tags/Warnings: Allusion to past abusive relationship, Smut, Omega Cas, Alpha Dean, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: All Dean wanted to do was get a drink with his friend Charlie, who owns an Alpha Service. But then a last-minute request comes in from one Castiel Novak who needs an alpha to help him through his heat. Since all of Charlie’s alphas are out on assignments, she convinces Dean to take care of Cas.

Arranged Marriage | @useless-fanfictions

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,148 Main Tags/Warnings: alpha!Dean, omega!Cas, prince!Dean, prince!Sam, prince!Cas, dub-con, explicit sexual content, mating cycles/in heat, alpha rut, scent kink, John Winchester's A+ parenting, happy ending Summary: Alpha and soon-to-be king Dean Winchester has to step up and marry an omega from another kingdom to unite the two. Dean is upset about his bachelor life ending until he gets the chance to talk to the omega Castiel.

milles éclairs | @thanks-tacos

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,902 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort,Past Abuse,Alpha Castiel,Omega Dean,Hurt Dean,Arranged Marriage,Misunderstandings,Angst,Fluff,Alternate Universe - Roadtrip, timestamp Summary: Cas is pissed, he's pissed at Dean, and it's all Dean's fault. This is the first time he made Cas this mad, and the first time he can't sense any guilt or remorse in the alpha's scent. He's just angry, angry at him, and he doesn't try to hold it back. They're in the middle of Yellowstone National Park, surrounded by trees taller than mountains. There's no service, no way to contact anyone, and Dean can't walk. And it's all his fault.

Music to his Ears | @envydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,035 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, truemates, Rejection, Bonding, Masturbation, Claiming, Scenting, brief mention of past Dean/Benny, Hospitals, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, made up ABO medical stuff, Hurt!Cas, omega!cas, Alpha!Dean, Bookstore Owner Castiel, Pianist Dean, Bar Owner Benny, Mating, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: On the way home from work, Castiel hears the lilting tune of a piano and eventually goes to investigate. When he does he finds his mate in Dean Winchester, who rejects him right off the bat, sending Castiel into a debilitating heat. Ending up in hospital, Castiel and Dean finally meet again... Series Part 5 of SPN ABO Bingo 2017

Cursed | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 17,594 Main Tags/Warnings: Strangers to Lovers, Pining, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas, Bottom Cas, Top Dean Summary: Dean’s dick has been cursed and Castiel, best healer witch this side of the woods, is the only one who can help. Only lifting the curse turns out to be more difficult than expected.

No need for an Alpha | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 21,821 Main Tags/Warnings: Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel , Abusive John Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Michael is an asshole too, abusive behaviour against Omegas,First Kiss, First Time, Love Triangles, Knotting, Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, Bottom Castiel , Switching, Sexting, in Panties (both of them), Mating, Modern AU, Bakery AU Summary: Dean doesn’t need an Alpha, he can take care of himself, thank you. Sure he met this cute Alpha online, but there is one problem: He lied about his own second gender online. And then there is this Alpha group that comes into his bakery every thursday and makes his life even harder. Even though one of them… seems different.

On Breeding Vacation | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23,345 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Dorks in Love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Omega Cas, Porn with Feelings, Alpha Dean, Mpreg, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: Cas wants pups, but without an alpha, that dream seems out of reach. Luckily, fertility ranches have long since specialized in giving omegas who are incapable of being loved the family they so desperately desire.

Alpha Spunk | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,763 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, PWP, From Sex to Love, Heat Sex, Rut Sex, Omega Cas, Alpha Dean, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: In order to alleviate bad heat cramps, Cas’ doctor recommends ‘potent alpha seed.’ At the drugstore, he not only gets his prescription filled, but meets the sexiest alpha alive…

boulderplains, AZ | @thanks-tacos

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27,942 Main Tags/Warnings: Omega Dean,Alpha Castiel,Bottom Dean, Top Cas, Past Abuse,Arranged Marriage,Alternate Universe - Domestic,Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con,Dubious Consent,Misunderstandings,Mentions of Violence,Hurt/Comfort,Healing,timestamp Summary: It takes Dean a while to recover, but he leans into Castiel's side all the same. As he calms, so does Castiel's heart, confused and slamming against his ribcage, undecided whether he should be aroused or scared or handling an emergency. It will be okay, Castiel tells himself, firmly. It will be okay. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he believes it.

What A Difference A Year Can Make | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 31,385 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, Mpreg, omega Dean, alpha Cas, recreational drug use, true mates Summary: True mates. Something that rarely happens, and then only between an alpha and an omega. So the electric shock that Castiel felt the first time they touched had to be something else, because they were both alphas. At least, that was what Dean had claimed. And two people fitting together so perfectly, that could happen to anybody really, right? When Dean’s secret finally comes to light, though, it’s only a big deal until something bigger comes along. A lot bigger. Nine months worth of bigger. But they can make it through anything as long as they have each other. Even things like abrasive family members, body image issues, and out of control hormones. As unexpected as it was, and as awful as some of the changes felt, it still ended up being the best thing that had ever happened to either of them. It’s always amazing just how much can change in just one year’s time.

Lacuna (WIP) | @wynterfiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 48,141 Main Tags/Warnings: Omegaverse, Alpha!Castiel, Omega!Dean, Prostitute!Dean, Prince!Castiel, Bottom!Dean, Top!Castiel, Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Non-con (not between Dean and Castiel), slow burn, AU - Historical Summary: It's no wonder Castiel, Third Alpha Prince of England, feels the need for some freedom and independence when there are constant expectations thrown at him. So when the opportunity to leave everything for a few months appears before him, he takes it. Freedom feels amazing. But he never expected to find something even better. Dior is a high-end omega prostitute at one of the better brothels in Paris. He's not sure how life has managed to fuck him over like this.

Angels and Demons | @clarrisani

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 51,879 Main Tags/Warnings: Mpreg, Miscarriage, Torture, rape Summary: Demon Dean has captured a weakened Castiel and is intent on mating with him despite Crowley's advice. Sam is dead set on finding Dean and Castiel and asks the angels for help.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 23 #omegaverse #Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #destiel #fanfic #supernatural

113 notes · View notes

rainbow-shine · 3 years

Text

i'll never wear your broken crown, but in this twilight our choices seal our fate

An alternative s4 in where Dean has powers and that changes everything and nothing. Dedicated to @wormstacheangel and inspired by this headcanon.

It started with little things.

So little that Sam wouldn't have noticed them had it not been for the fact that he couldn't help but look at his brother like a hawk lately, partly to comfort himself that he had Dean back and partly to make sure his brother wouldn't find out about his extracurricular activities.

Dean doesn’t gets hurt anymore.

Sam felt his heart stop inside his chest when he entered the kitchen at Bobby's house and found Victor's ghost with his hand embedded in Dean's chest. With a swift movement Sam fired, the ghost disappeared and Dean fell to the ground.

Completely unharmed.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked either way. Dean gave him an unimpressed look before saying no.

The thing was, Sam had seen Olivia's corpse, had seen the corpses of the rest of the hunters. Right now Dean should be bleeding to death on the floor, his heart ripped from his chest, but instead he was just catching his breath like he'd just taken a good hit.

Sam, at that time, thought it was a fluke.

But it kept happening.

They had a dangerous job and the threat of the apocalypse only made the monsters worse, but Dean was always unharmed. Not a single mark stained his body and the times something or someone managed to hurt him, those wounds always disappeared in less than a day.

"You test him, right?" Sam whispered to Bobby, as soon as Dean went to buy something for dinner and Sam stayed with the excuse of researching something on a new book.

"Who?"

"Dean," Sam clarified. “After he was resurrected”.

"Of course I test him, Sam," Bobby hissed. “Do you think I'm stupid?”

"No, it's just…" Sam stopped speaking, realizing that his arguments at the moment would sound more like conspiracies. The fact that Dean was apparently untouchable wasn't exactly a bad thing.

"What?" Bobby asked sharply.

"Nothing," Sam replied, quickly coming up with an excuse. “It's just that I feel like there's something different about him”.

"Sam, your brother just came back from hell. Literal hell,” Bobby exclaimed slightly condescending. “His mind is trying to process a trauma that, as far as I know, no one has ever experienced. You can't expect him to be the same as before, because he won't be”.

"I know, Bobby."

"Then stop complaining".

So Sam stopped. After all, Dean was still Dean and the fact that nothing could hurt him was just one more reason for Sam to do everything he could so that nothing that could reach him.

•●•

The first time Dean went to sleep after being rescued from hell, in the uncomfortable but familiar couch in Bobby's house, he dreamed of a light.

A light so bright that he felt it might be able to melt his eyes out of his sockets, but at the same time it was warming a part of him that always seemed to be cold.

A light that was comforting and gentle. A light that meant love and salvation.

That night, in an abandoned barn in Illinois, Dean knew that he hadn't been dreaming at all.

•●•

When he was a kid and dad decided to start taking Dean on hunts, Sam used to kneel by his bedside and pray that god would keep his brother safe.

After Jess appeared nailed to the ceiling and their apartment was consumed by flames, Sam began to pray for forgiveness.

The day Dean was dragged to hell Sam stopped praying, because he knew that no one was listening to him.

But then Dean was saved. Dean was saved by an angel and Sam felt his faith restored. How he couldn’t have faith when an angel had achieved what he had been trying to do for months?

But apparently Sam Winchester couldn't have good things, because again his faith was destroyed and the angels, as Dean had said, were nothing more than dicks with wings.

The boy with the demon blood.

The curse Azazel left on him and the only chance they had to truly stop Lilith.

There was fear in Dean's eyes.

And that hurt so much more than anything the angels could have told him.

His powers were a curse, but he had stopped Samhain thanks to them. They may not have saved the seal, but an entire city was beginning their day with nothing to worry about thanks to them.

Sam was doing the right thing. He truly was.

It didn't matter that no one seemed to agree with him.

•●•

"Let me guess, you're here for the ‘I told you so’" Dean said, turning on the bench to look at the angel sitting next to him.

“No”.

“Well, good, cause I’m really not that interested”.

"I am not here to judge you, Dean." The angel's voice was surprisingly gentle and Dean tried to ignore the way the light from his halo suddenly looked alluring. Dean hadn't told anyone, not even Sam, what he could see.

Because Dean still wasn't entirely convinced that he hadn't gone crazy.

Big black wings curved slightly around both of them as they chatted and Dean, for a moment, stopped seeing Castiel, the righteous angel of the lord and only saw Cas, someone who looked as lost as Dean felt.

"I don't envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean," Cas whispered. “I truly don’t”.

Then Cas leaned into him and Dean felt his mind short circuit for a second, because the angel clearly seemed to want a kiss. But no, Cas stopped an inch from touching his lips, simply watching him simultaneously with the blue eyes of his vessel and with the hundreds of curious eyes of his true form.

“What…?” Dean's question was interrupted by something coming from Cas' lips and colliding with his. Dean instinctively parted his lips and allowed Cas to give him whatever he wanted.

It wasn't liquid, but it wasn't a gas either. It was tasteless and Dean didn't feel it pass down his throat or vanish in his mouth. His heart raced and he felt… safe. Blessed.

As soon as it started it was over and by the time Dean managed to control his heartbeat, Cas had vanished and no one seemed to have witnessed what had happened.

•●•

Ruby didn't like Dean.

For many reasons, some more obvious or justifiable than others. But for the sake of the role Sam had to play, Ruby forced herself to cooperate with the older of the Winchesters.

But this was too much.

The mere presence of Dean made her feel like there were cockroaches crawling all over her body. His soul had taken on a new glow and Ruby didn't want to know what kind of things Dean was doing with his angel to have that kind of purity.

"I think there's something wrong with Dean," Sam confessed and Ruby could feel the fear making his voice shake or maybe the shaking came from the blood that was still running down her arm.

"What are you talking about?" Ruby asked sweetly, almost genuinely concerned. If it were up to her Dean would still be rotting in hell, but Sam was on his way of doing a miracle and Ruby felt that someone like that deserved all the happiness and satisfaction in the world. Even if it meant having to put up with Dean Winchester.

"He looks different," Sam said. "I think the angels are doing something to him. My brother would never have..."

"What?" Ruby prompted. "Would never have risked his life for an angel?"

"Well, no".

Ruby had a sudden epiphany that they weren't talking about Ana.

"Maybe the angels are… purifying him," Ruby suggested. "I mean, you know what he did when he was in hell".

The idea of Dean, brave and kind Dean, torturing souls in hell and enjoying it was too funny to be true.

"It's something more than that".

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know!"

Ruby thought that they had already wasted a lot of time talking about Dean, so she decided to silence Sam with a deep and dirty kiss, climbing onto his lap and thinking that heaven could purify Dean as much as they wanted, because she would see to it that Sam was more powerful than they could ever imagine.

•●•

The angels had taken his brother and Sam swore he was going to kill them as soon as he found them.

Wasn't it enough that they were manipulating and corrupting him, they also had to make him relive what happened in hell?

Dean had protected him from many things. Dean, his older brother, had taken it upon himself to give him a childhood that he never allowed himself to have. Dean had been in the front row of his school play. Dean had made him tomato rice soup whenever he got sick. Dean had put a wad of money and a cell phone in his bag when he had left for Stanford.

Dean had sold his soul to save him.

So now it was Sam's turn to save his older brother.

•●•

"For what it's worth," Cas murmured against his lips. Dean was shuddering with what could be fear or perhaps anticipation. "I would give anything not to have you do this".

•●•

Sam had killed Alistair and Dean was furious.

Hundreds of emotions were piling up in his mind and he wasn't able to understand how his brother could be so stupid to not see that his powers were changing him for the worse. Dean could feel that something was wrong with Sam and his little brother didn't seem to mind.

"I did it to save you!" Sam insisted, throwing his hands up as if Dean was going to lunge at him despite still being slightly dizzy from the hospital drugs. "I only used my powers to protect you when the angels couldn't!"

"Cas did the best he could."

"Really?" There was a note of hysteria in Sam's voice. "Are you going to defend him?"

"Sam..."

"He forced you to torture Alistair despite knowing what you did in hell!"

"He had no other choice!"

"He's using you!"

"But at least he has never lied to me!"

The lightbulb in the room exploded.

Both brothers froze and Dean could see that Sam was breathing heavily and refusing to meet his eyes.

"Sammy?"

"I'm going to get some air," was all Sam said before he practically ran out of the room.

Leaving Dean wondering if things between them would one day stop being so broken.

•●•

Dean's eyes glowed blue.

Angelic blue.

Sam had to save his brother before it was too late.

•●•

The first time Dean healed him, Sam felt like something inside him was burning.

It had been a hunt like any other. No seals threatening to break, no angels or demons. Just the two of them against an angry ghost, just like old times.

Except the ghost was really angry and by the time Dean managed to burn their bones, Sam had been thrown into several graves and several trees and he was sure the back of his head was bleeding.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, running up to him and gently laying him on the ground, with his head in his lap, examining the severity of the injury. Sam felt like a little kid again, feeling safe next to his big brother.

For a moment, there was no apocalypse or arguments. Just the warmth of his brother's body and gentle fingers running through his hair.

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam managed to say. "You know how much head injuries bleed. It's less serious than it seems".

"I know, Sammy".

And then Sam felt the soft strokes on his hair turn into flames and a gasp escaped from his throat. The pain lasted only a second and by the time Sam regained awareness of his surroundings, none of his injuries were still hurting.

"What did you do to me?" Sam hissed, pulling away from Dean and standing up quickly and nearly falling back to the ground from the wave of nausea that washed over him.

"I… I don't know." Dean looked as terrified as Sam felt. "I just wanted to make you feel better".

Dean wasn't normal anymore. Whatever the angels had done or were doing to him was changing his brother.

And Sam no longer knew if he could save him.

•●•

"What's happening to me, Cas?" Dean asked. Trying to convince himself that his little brother was safe and that even though Lilith had escaped, she at least hadn't made any deals with Sam.

"You're changing," was Cas' soft reply. "A metamorphosis, a revelation".

"Am I not human anymore?" Dean asked with his voice showing the terror he really felt.

"You're always going to be human, Dean," Cas reassured him. "Every saint, every messiah, was as human as you".

"I don't deserve this, Cas," Dean gasped, closing his eyes to avoid seeing Castiel, his wings and halo, his eyes and his light. He wasn’t worthy of witnessing the greatness of an angel, not this angel at least.

"Do you still think you don't deserve to be saved?" Cas whispered and Dean trembled slightly as he felt a warm hand gently touch his chin, forcing him to look up and open his eyes. Cas was looking at him so adoringly that Dean felt like he was going to combust in any minute. "Do you think you don't deserve to be loved?"

This is love? Dean almost asked, but instead he connected his lips to those of the angel in front of him and tried to ignore the way in which, for the first time since he had been dragged to hell, he felt pure.

•●•

Castiel couldn't keep doing this.

Heaven had lied to them. Castiel had delusionally believed that he was keeping Dean safe, that he was rendering him immune to demons, healing his wounds and protecting him from all danger.

When in reality Castiel had only been poisoning him.

Shame mingled with guilt within his grace. His wings were flapping as fast as they could, pulling him towards Dean. Trying to warn him about what heaven was planning. Trying to save him from the hell Castiel had condemned him to.

The angels found him first.

Castiel felt how his wings were imprisoned and how his entire being seemed to be consumed by the most absolute pain.

"Take him to Naomi," ordered one of his superiors. "Fix him as soon as possible".

The last thing Castiel felt was the bond he had begun to form with Dean being brutally ripped apart.

•●•

No demon could touch him and surprisingly that wasn't the strangest revelation Dean had that day.

No, the fact that the demon that tried to touch him in Jimmy Novak's house let out a scream of pain as he held onto his burned hand paled in comparison to everything else:

Seeing Sam, his baby brother, throw himself on a demon to drink her blood, broke his heart in a way that Dean couldn't even begin explain.

After that, seeing how Cas looked like his wings had been passed through a shredder while his true form's eyes seemed dull and unfocused only served to make his wounded heart surrender completely.

Dean was practically invincible, but right now, with the broken pieces of his heart trying to stick together, he felt more fragile than any glass.

•●•

Bobby wasn't having a good day.

No, that wasn't good enough, Bobby wasn't having a good life.

But this day was particularly bad.

No matter how much he wanted to ignore them, Bobby could still hear Sam's delirious screams. And to think that the boy who had entered his house years ago, hiding behind his older brother and observing everything with big eyes full of curiosity, was now going through a detoxification process for having consumed demon blood, was something that Bobby could hardly tolerate.

The fact that Dean was a mess didn't help much either.

Dean appeared to be a shadow, drowning in alcohol and carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Bobby wondered if there was something wrong with him too, for on more than one occasion the lights around him seemed to flicker and his eyes seemed to emit a strange light.

What had these two idjits gotten themselves into now?

•●•

Dean didn't know what else to do anymore.

"She's poison, Sam," Dean said, praying his brother saw reason. Sam just gave him a wry smile.

"What about Castiel?" Sam hissed and Dean instinctively took a step back. "Is he poison too, Dean?"

They had both lied to each other and here were the consequences.

"Cas is an angel," Dean replied. "He's just protecting me".

"What makes you different from me?" Sam asked. "Tell me, why are you allowed to be a freak and I'm not?"

"Sam that's not how things are..."

"Of course they are!" Sam yelled. "All my life I have been the freak of our family, I never fit in with you and dad, and I was ready to accept that I'm different from you, but it turns out that you are the same freak as me!"

"It's different and you know it, Sam," Dean tried to argue. "Cas never made me drink his blood, he never made me promises too good to be true, and he never made me addicted to anything".

"Why?" Sam asked, sounding exactly like the scared little kid who had believed that the monster under his bed was real. Dean felt his heart ache. "Why if we are both freaks I have to be the monster?"

"It's not too late, Sam," Dean pleaded. "We can still stop this. No angels and no demons, just you and me. Like before".

"I… I can't do that, Dean," Sam denied.

"Of course you can," Dean insisted, moving slowly toward Sam. "Say goodbye to Ruby, return with me to Bobby's house and we will find a way to end it all. I just want you to be okay, Sammy".

Sam's skin began to burn the moment Dean placed his hand on his arm.

No.

"Sammy?" Dean didn't recognize his own voice, he felt like his body had ceased to be his. A witness of his worst nightmares. A tear ran down his cheek. "Sammy, please".

The blow hurt less than the implications of what just happened.

•●•

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

The place where Dean's hand had touched it still hurt. A reminder of what he had sacrificed for the greater good. A mockery of what he had lost by trying to be a hero.

But he couldn't stop, not now that he was so close to ending it all. Not when it was only a matter of hours before Lilith tried to break the final seal.

Ruby's presence was a comfort with the same intensity as a punishment, because Dean hadn't trusted him the way she did, but still Sam wanted the presence of his older brother.

That part of him that had believed for years that his older brother was a superhero right now wanted to run up to his brother and beg for forgiveness.

But Sam was no longer a child and his brother had made a decision.

It was time for Sam to made his, too.

•●•

The angels had kidnapped him. There was no other way to describe what they had done to him, but Dean had made a promise and he planned to keep it. So he stayed there and listened to what the angels told him.

But the moment Zacharias leaned toward him, his movements clinical and expressionless in a way Cas' had never been, Dean couldn't resist the urge to seal his lips, lower his gaze, and take several steps back.

"Dean," Zacharias sighed, as if Dean was a little kid who didn't want to eat his vegetables.

"No," Dean refused and before he could regret it he added. "I want Castiel to do it".

The expression on Cas' face was heartbroken.

"Very well," Zacharias agreed, before ordering Cas to come over to him.

With Cas' lips so close to his and with the warmth of what he now knew was grace enveloping his body, Dean wondered if Sam had been right and Cas had been poisoning him too.

Perhaps both of them had poisoned each other.

"You're almost ready," Zacharias marveled when Cas broke away from him. "Everything will go according to plan".

Dean wasn't so sure about that anymore.

•●•

"Sam," Ruby said, her dark eyes showing a panic Sam never remembered seeing. "Time is running out, are you going to do it or not?"

With Dean's voice telling him that he was a monster echoing in his head, Sam knew he really had no other choice.

•●•

"You know what's real?" Dean asked and didn't wait for an answer before grabbing the lapels of Cas' trenchcoat and slamming his lips against his.

Cas seemed to freeze for a moment before reciprocating the kiss with intensity. His black wings curved around both of them and Dean felt the heat of his halo brushing against his hair. Invisible hands caressed his skin and hundreds of eyes watched him adoringly.

"This is real," Dean gasped as they parted. "This, us, people, families— that's real. You're gonna watch them all burn, Cas?"

"What would you have me do, Dean?" Cas whispered. His wings trembling slightly.

"Get me to Sam," Dean said. "We can stop this before it's too late".

"I do that, we will all be hunted," Cas replied. "We'll all be killed".

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it" was all Dean could say.

Dean barely had time to react before he was being pushed into one of the walls and kissed desperately. Dean raised his hands to tangle them in Cas' hair and parted his lips the moment he felt Cas' tongue touch his lower lip.

His body accepted Cas' grace with ease.

"We have to find Sam, we have to stop him from killing Lilith," Cas told him when they parted.

"Why?" Dean asked, feeling a little dizzy. "Lilith is going to break the final seal".

"Lilith is the final seal," Cas said. "She dies; the end begins".

•●•

Sam had never felt a power like this.

It was all about to end and he could finally have the life he deserved. His nightmare would end and everything Azazel had planned would be in vain. Sam would use the powers that hell had given him for good. He would use the demon blood that ran through his veins to prevent the apocalypse.

And maybe, when things finally ended, Sam could apologize to Dean and all of this would be nothing more than a bad memory.

Lilith was smiling and Sam was eager to erase that smile once and for all.

Finally, everything was about to end.

•●•

Castiel was committing treason.

He didn't even think twice before vanishing Zacharias and carrying Dean as quickly as his wings allowed him to the house of the prophet of the lord. It was the only chance they had to find Sam and stop the apocalypse before it started.

"You guys aren't supposed to be there," said the prophet, frowning. "You're not in this story".

"Yeah, well..." Castiel said. "We're making it up as we go".

Castiel then took a moment to look at Dean, his soul shining as bright as the sun and cradling his grace as if he never wanted to be without it. Castiel felt a wave of affection for the human he had rescued from hell, for the man who had kissed his lips like a lover.

He sensed the archangel's presence long before he appeared and Castiel knew that they had run out of time.

Regardless of whether the prophet was watching them, Castiel pulled Dean to share a heavy kiss. A kiss of regret for lost time. A goodbye kiss.

"I'll hold him off!" Castiel gasped against Dean's lips, allowing most of his grace to flow to him. If Castiel couldn't protect him, at least he would make sure his grace did. "I'll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!"

Dean connected their lips one last time.

"Good luck".

In the end, Dean had been right. This was something worth dying for.

•●•

He had been too late.

•●•

"I was the best of all those sons of bitches!" Ruby yelled, a maniacal smile curving her lips. "The most loyal!"

Sam had stopped listening to her, just staring in horror at what he had done.

This is not how things are supposed to be. This shouldn't have been the end of this. He had made a stupid mistake, he had been arrogant and he had been naive. Sam had only wanted to protect the world; he had only wanted to take some of the burden off his brother's shoulders.

Sam, for once in his life, had just wanted to do something right.

"You're too late," Ruby scoffed and Sam felt like he might start crying when he saw his big brother.

"I don't care," Dean hissed and Sam could only watch paralyzed as Dean placed his hand on Ruby's forehead and she started screaming, her eyes on fire and the demonic essence of her fading.

"I'm sorry," Sam sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Dean".

Dean couldn't even look him in the eye.

"We have to get out of here," was all Dean said. "Let's go, Sam".

"Dean," Sam gasped. "He's coming".

Dean ignored him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the exit.

For the first time in months, Dean's touch was no longer uncomfortable.

•●•

The apocalypse had begun.

55 notes · View notes

constellationmelody · 3 years

Text

Beauty and the Guard AU

An AU on Beauty and the beast but there’s no beast unless you want to count belos as one but he’s not the focus character Hunter just refuses to take off his mask the whole time.

Takes place when luz is trying to save Eda from petrification, Luz strikes a deal with Belos, Giving the portal but manages to destroy it. She’s instead taken captive and warned by Belos that if she escapes, He’ll send an army to capture not just Eda but everyone she ever met and befriended.

- Has to stay in the Castle as to answer Belos’ questions about the human realm and any other information gathering.

- Hunter is assigned as her chaperone but not all the time. Not when he’s on missions. Steve fills in.

- Luz agrees with Hunter to not ask about his mask. She says that she doesn’t have a desire to get to get to know him and Considering how the majority of citizens are under the monster category, she understands that he doesn’t want anyone to look. Hunter is not sure if he’s relieve that she will keep her promise not to look under his mask or feel insulted that she basically called him ugly.

(Long post)

- When not 'helping’ Belos information gathering, She puts to work as a cleaning lady, Luz is furious about it. She can’t believe she has to clean more there than she does at home in a dusty castle. The other cleaning witches can do their job well with magic, meanwhile it’s all manual labor. Not to mention she shares quarters with them and they snore.

- Tries to convince Hunter to let her go out even if its around the castle grounds, of course, He says no and shuts down her attempts.

- While doing her cleaning duties, Luz wanders around the castle to look around any valuable information on Belos for any way to help eda/or whatever without the Golden Guard following her. She finds the forbidden library and is amazed by the goldmine of BI’s forbidden knowledge! She only gets to look through some books before she gets caught by Hunter which he angrily yells at her about being in a place where she’s not supposed to be in. Drags her out and locks the library.

- She tries to run away but often gets stopped by Hunter, the threat of going to the dungeon doesn’t scare her (”I escaped there like twice”). He relents and allows her to go on these ‘adventures’ when he’s not in a mission, He finds it to be fun but would not admit it.

- Luz manages to get the freedom to go back to school but is secretly spied on by Hunter, though he sometimes get caught by the monsters or students roaming around. Hunter picks her up after school. (weak sauce, idk what to put here to make it more interesting)

- When he’s not chaperoning her in the outside world, Hunter gets envious how much fun Steve is having with Luz when they go on an adventure. Detailing their bounty adventures, using the snails to shop and buy things. He can’t really do much about it but when he does go, Steve gets sad; Luz promises him that she’ll get him souvenirs.

- Somehow finds out that Hunter is a magicless witch and Luz shows him that she can do magic through glyphs. Hunter is amazed and they start geeking out about it until he stops himself since it’s a forbidden knowledge.

- Luz had succeed running away from the castle but its to the beach to stare at the boiling waters. She tells Hunter that the castle life was suffocating her and needed to go out. Hunter stayed with her until they were ready to go back.

- Hunter secretly takes her to the forbidden library to cheer her up so she can learn more and the boiling isles history. Hunter is happy to have someone with the same interests as him to talk to about wild magic. Gets more comfortable around her and talk in secret more about it. During their time together get bond over varies subjects, the library becoming their sanctuary when its not in use, which is most of the time. They share about each other’s realms constellations, history, what kind of magic is around, creatures and about the titan. Luz scolds him for this, referring back when he got angry at her for being curious when he basically did the same thing in secret.

- After some time getting comfortable and know each other through mutual interest and deep talks. Hunter gets bothered that since she doesn’t know his name, She has no choice but to call him by his title. When they are coming back from doing errands, He tells her his name and she’s allowed to call him by it when they are together/in private. His heart fluttered when he hears her say his name.

- Luz starts to grow feelings for him despite not knowing what he looks like. She had opportunities to see what he looks at the times when he’s asleep during their time in the library or when his mask gets knocked off during a temp job but kept her promise to not look at his face which leads to uncomfortable situation where she accidentally gropes him when she was looking for him to give him his mask back, luckily never below the belt. What she finds is his built felt normal. No hidden spikes, slime or what-have-you to suggests that he’s in the monster/demon category. Hunter obviously flustered.

- (Following the plot of Hunting palisman w/ some changes to the plot cause obviously Eda) At school Luz can’t find the palisman that suits her and is upset about it. Hunter, although he still hesitant about his feelings towards wild magic, tries to comfort her. (convo from the Hunting palisman) Luz talks about What happened at the school, and questions Hunter about how he manages to know what he wanted for his future and How he came to the emperor’s coven, to help her get some guidance from him. He tells her about himself and lack of future and Although she isn’t sure about hers, at least she gets to choose. Luz feels sad for him and hugs him. Hunter melts in her embrace.

- Just as he’s about to fall asleep in her arms, Rascal pops out of his hiding place and gives Hunter a heart attack. Rascal chooses Hunter to be his palisman. Obviously Luz feels a bit disappointed that hunter got his palisman when he doesn’t want it, the look of uncertainty he has with the palisman makes her determine to get him used to it. She can always be a teacher since she has experience with Owlbert.

- With his new staff that he’s still unsure of, Hunter decides to take Luz out somewhere out of the ordinary routine after school, somewhere special (think like events like the wailing stars but something else) but that turned romantic. At some point he slightly lifts his mask to kiss Luz’s hand. She’s obviously swooned. May have peeked and sees that he has loose strand of medium blond hair sticking out and that his Lips felt like normal. Starts to think he looks like more like human(or witch?) like some of her classmates.

- They become even more friendlier as it becomes a usual thing for them to be seen together in the castle when Luz is or isn’t working, even the coven members are noticing this, especially Kikimora. Coven leaders are just shocked that someone liked him enough to be his a friend.

- Kikimora start planting seeds of doubts in Luz’s mind about whether Hunter really is being her friend or just fulling his duties as he was told by Belos. What if their talks where his manipulative ways to get her to tell him about her and other information gathering. Was he really talking to her as she clean because he’s really saw her as a friend or just keeping guard to make sure she doesn’t run away. Kiki does this to mess whatever good thing Hunter has since she can’t kill him. Luz tries her best to ignore her, rationalizing that that’s quite an investment for Hunter to go through to manipulate her.

- Somewhere a long the line, Luz finds out the truth about day of unity and the truth of Kikimora’s words of Hunter’s actions that she assumed was just lies that Kiki told her. She’s hurt to think the guy she grown to love had any knowledge about it and betrayed her. “I though you were a good guy [mentions all the stuff they do together and such] I guess You’re not my friend, you’re just the golden guard.” It kills him when she said that.

- alternatively he finds out that she has the key to the partially fixed portal door. Is conflicted on whether to break their bond for belos or not especially after learning that she’s homesick and wants to see her mom again. Fought with Kikimora over it with lead to Luz finding out their fight and gets heartbroken that Hunter has it, assumes the worst that kikimora was right. Again, “I though you were a good guy I guess I was wrong. You’re not my friend, you’re just the golden guard.” His feels his heart breaks.

- Luz gets rescued by Eda, Lilith, king, hooty, her friends. Hunter doesn’t try to stop her but apologizes to her for everything and for what it’s worth, he’s happy to got to know her and that he loved her, whether she feels the same or not. Luz obviously shocked but couldn’t give a response because the gang were fleeing.

- Back in the owl house, Luz is a mess because of the mixed feelings she has for hunter. In one hand, she knew him as this cold person who was very dedicated to his job while the other as an intelligent, funny, (other more things) and is confused on which hunter is the one she grown to love. ( Feels devastated about it because she thinks that he faked his feelings for her to get knowledge on the key or whatever although hunter didn’t really know she had it.)

- Lilith is dumfounded that Luz has feelings for him because she known him to be a brat. Luz argues that He is but much more than that. As she explains why, she gets hits with the epiphany that she does indeed had fallen in love with him. Eda laughs, “Not sure If I approve catching feelings for your nanny, I thought you were being tortured or something but I see now what you have been really doing.” wagging her eyebrows. Luz: “They have me clean the castle from top to bottom! By hand!” “I don’t approve then.” Luz shares her knowledge of wild magic with the group that she learn from the castle’s library.

- Weeks later, Luz tries to sleep but hears small knocking on the window, She opens it and sees Rascal with the key with him and a note from Hunter apologizing again for what happened. Belos doesn’t know about the key. She sends a note back, telling him to meet her.

- idk how they makeup. (Working on it) Luz walks up to Hunter and asks if she could take off his mask which he agrees to. Luz takes his mask off and smiles, “well look at that, Magenta eyes. You aren’t ugly as I thought to you were!” hunter frowns, “But you’re handsome as I imagined,” leans up and kisses him first. Hunter tosses the mask away for good and hugs her close to kiss her better. Luz pulls back, “and... I love you too.” Hunter isn’t sure what his new future holds but knows for sure that Luz is a part of it.

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

( Had an idea in an alternative story plot around the part where they went out to a ‘date’. They confessed their love and started to kiss lol imagine them having to use a blindfold to keep her eyes closed. But it was a bit too sensual? Or Sensuous? It just didn’t fit in the flow of the storyline. Why did this became a dabble? )

Hunter, for the first time, gets self conscious about his looks. He tries not look into mirrors, though hard when his mask reflects the face he tries hard to avoid looking at when putting it on, He doesn’t really thought much about his looks, except for the scar that’s plastered over his cheek. The ugly scar that he rather forget he has.

As Hunter looks down at Luz’s face, blindfolded to prevent her from accidently opening her eyes during their ‘make out session’, He’s starting to believe that Luz lied about being magicless. He can’t help but feel enchanted over how beautiful she looked by the way the moonlight cast a heavenly glow over her cute features. He can only imagine how her eyes would look like if she didn’t have the blindfold on. “I wish I can stare into your eyes,”

“Why can’t we?”

“You know why”

“Right, I’m not allowed to look under the mask.” she pouted.

“And... well,” Luz attentively waits for him to continue, “I may not look... pretty as you think I imagine. If that makes any sense.” He sheepishly confessed

As Luz wraps her arms around his shoulders, Hunter feels her hands feeling up up his neck, tenderly cradling his face. Hunter fails to resist the blush spreading across his cheeks and the warm pleasant feeling in his chest

“I have other senses to “see” you,” She says sliding her fingers along his jawline, “Strong jaw, ... No scales, or slime... just soft skin”

She found one patch on the left of his face in particular that caught her interest but before she could take her time to feel it, Hunter quickly shook her hand away from it. Sensing its something he feels uncomfortable with, she decides to leave it alone.

She continues, “I can hear your voice; sound hot,” He suddenly felt shy at the comment. He was always self-conscious as he has been told that it was annoying. He felt relieved that it wasn’t the case for her. “Heh, Thanks”

“I can smell you, " She nuzzles against his neck and scrunches up her nose, “... you need a shower.” Hunter frowns, that was certainly killed the mood a little. She pulls back, “But I like that you smell like pine forest sometimes,” weak save.

“And,” she hums as grazes her thumb over his lips, licking her own. Hunter subconsciously sucks in his breathe, feeling himself getting hotter by the second.

“I can taste you.” finishing off her sentence by pressing her lips against his; briefly misses his lips by kissing the corner of his mouth before correcting herself.

Hunter smirks in amusement.

Alright, He admits that was pretty smooth of her to end it the way she did, even though she fumbled at the end.

He feels a bit confident on that fateful day where he feels brave enough to show her his face, He just hope it lives up to her expectations despite her reassurance to the contrary.

Luz, on the other hand, is glad that he’s feels like a normal person underneath the mask, she can’t help but feel a bit disappointed that hunter possess no fangs.

#toh #the owl house #lunter #goldenlight #goldenluz #hunter x luz #Luz x Hunter #biphobics need not interact #Had to edit the dabble a bit cause i missed a few things in the writing #Wrote a dabble here #it's romantic #i hope

52 notes · View notes

mmvalentine · 3 years

Note

Would you mind doing random fluff oneshots for feysand, with like tonnes of fluff in them? 🥺 Just them being together and happy and maybe some with Nyx too?

Haha fluff... without smut?! What is this you speak of??? Okay let me see. Did I ever tell you about...

1. The time they finally took a weekend (baby Nyx) Feyre wakes up alone and can’t believe how much she’s slept in. She goes out to the kitchen and for a moment just stands there, watching Rhys potter around, singing softly in a language she doesn’t recognise. She didn’t know he sang, before Nyx. She steps forward and as her bare feet hit the floorboards he says without turning, “Morning, Feyre darling.”

“Morning,” she says. “Where’s-” And then Rhys turns around, spatula in one hand, and there’s Nyx bundled and bound across Rhys’ chest in a swath of soft grey fabric. “Happy day off,” he croons, and kisses her on the forehead. “How did you get him to sleep so long?” she asks, stroking her son’s little head. “I’m making him dreams of flying, so he doesn’t have to wake up and do it.” “And that’s keeping him asleep?!” Feyre asks in disbelief. “And also dinosaurs,” Rhys adds. “He’s dreaming of flying with dinosaurs.” Feyre laughs, and half way through she is interrupted by Rhys’ mouth on hers. “I’ll never get tired of seeing you laugh,” he murmurs, and kisses her again. At that moment, a letter appears on the kitchen table, and Rhys groans. “That’ll be Helion,” he says. “He’s been on my back about getting a meeting together to discuss-” “Nothing,” Feyre interjects, eyebrows raised. “You’ll be discussing nothing because today is our day off.” “I’m sorry my love,” he says, handing Nyx to her. “Just give me five minutes.” But Feyre knows what five minutes is when the high lords get going. She puts Nyx on her hip and draws herself to full height. She snatches the paper up and dictates, words appearing as she speaks. “The High Lady of the Night Court declines your invitation,” she states clearly. “The Night Court will be unavailable for the next two days, as stipulated in the previous meeting of the courts.” She fixes Rhys with a steely gaze, and the letter disappears. “Mmm,” Rhys purrs. “You’ve no idea how much I enjoy it when you take charge, High Lady.” He bends his head to run his nose along her jaw. But Feyre steps back. “Good,” she says in a clipped voice. “Then take this,” she plops Nyx back into his arms, “and this,” she conjures two already packed backs and slings them over Rhys’ shoulders like a pack mule, “and close your eyes.” Then she wraps her arms around the two of them, and winnows. They appear in the cabin in the mountains, and in Spring the whole place smells like pine and honeysuckle. Feyre has already set up the place for the perfect weekend- Rhys’ favourite books stacked next to the arm chair, Nyx’s toys in a basket on the floor, paints on the table, and best of all, wards that redirected any business letters from arriving at all.

2. The time Amren babysat (2yo Nyx) Nyx has learned to fly and has been getting into unimaginable amounts of trouble. Nothing can be placed out of reach anymore, there is no place safe from his grabbing hands and sucking mouth and tiny, sharp little teeth. So Feyre and Rhys have been chasing him around the house for a week now, trying to get work done at the same time as not letting him throw books down from the top shelf or put his mouth over candles in the chandelier or push over Rhys’ crystal decanters. They can’t even sleep- now instead of crying when he wakes up in the middle of the night, Nyx just floats into their room and drops whatever he finds onto their bed. From a height. At their faces. By the end of the week, they both look so ridiculously tired, that Amren caves. She isn’t usually one to spend one-on-one time with the baby, but everyone else is off on business and she honestly isn’t doing anything else. So she shoos them off to bed and takes the little squaller in her arms. Feyre and Rhys are too tired to even argue, they just smile gratefully and walk up the stairs like zombies. When they fall into bed, Feyre is asleep almost immediately. But Rhys curls himself around her, tucking his chin into her neck and tangling his knees with hers. He inhales at the top of her spine, and places kisses over her shoulder. Feyre doesn’t stir at all. And Rhys wants to fall asleep too, he does, gods know he needs it. But he also needs to hold Feyre for a minute and know that she isn’t going to bolt away at any second because Nyx has his fingers in the light fixtures. So he lies there, for as long as he can keep his eyes open, and trails his fingers down the cello curves of her. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Rhys will wake up and wonder whether this is all real. Even now, he thinks that it is possible that he has gone mad, and he is actually still trapped under the mountain and his mind has created a paradise for him because he cannot endure it any longer. When he can’t see his way out, he usually buries himself in Feyre’s body, and it’s the only thing that can convince him this is real. But for now, there’s just bone-deep tiredness, and peace. So he fights his eyelids, and touches his mate’s skin, and he does not know when he falls asleep but he wakes up when Feyre is tugging out of his arms. He frowns with his eyes closed, and tightens his arms so she can’t get up. Feyre chuckles, and lets him keep her, at least for another few minutes. When they make their way downstairs, they find Amren and Nyx in the living room. Amren is poring over an ancient text with laser focus. And Nyx floats above her, with a string that has one end tied around his waist and the other tied around Amren’s wrist like a balloon. “Amren,” Feyre says in disapproval. She looks up, with no embarrassment in her silver eyes. “What?” she said. “It works.” Indeed Nyx seems perfectly happy, flying in little circles but unable to get far enough to touch anything. Rhys tips his head back, and laughs.

3. The time Rhys and Nyx made pancakes (4yo Nyx) Feyre doesn’t often get breakfast in bed, but this time was actually Nyx’s idea. He wakes Rhys up early, and the two of them steal down to the kitchen. Rhys tries to help, but Nyx wants to do everything by himself, and as a result makes an enormous mess. Rhys manages to clean most of it up by magic, but Nyx has recently decided he doesn’t like the way magic feels on his skin, so he remains covered in flour and blueberry juice. Eventually though, they make a proud albeit wonky stack of pancakes, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and a cup of tea. Nyx wants to carry the whole thing up the stairs, and Rhys balances the tray with magic and prays Nyx doesn’t notice. When Feyre sees them, she smiles so beautifully Rhys’ heart stops for several beats. Her face is pink and her lips are swollen from sleeping, the honey tangle of her hair tumbles over her shoulder, and the left strap of her nightgown is falling down. He wonders if he will ever get over the perfection of her. “Mommy we made you pancakes!” Nyx announces, and she takes the tray from him before he can spill it over the bed. “You did?!” she asks, pulling the child into her lap. “We did and daddy didn’t help me at all.” Feyre laughs, and wipes the flour from his face with her thumbs. “Well that’s good,” she says, “because daddy has no idea how to make pancakes.” Rhys looks offended. “I do too,” he says. “Cassian taught me.” Feyre’s eyes twinkle at him, and he sits on the foot of the bed. Watches as she puts the first bite into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she hums, eyes closing in pleasure. “These are the best pancakes I have ever eaten in my entire life.” She takes another bite, and moans again, and the sound of it tugs something in deep in Rhys. “Okay I’m gonna eat the rest of the blueberries!” Nyx says, and then runs off down the stairs. The sounds of his little footsteps thundering away fade, and Rhys pounces. In one fluid motion he rises from the end of the bed and has her pinned on her back, the tray forgotten. “Do you know what I think is delicious?” he purrs. “Tell me,” Feyre answers, eyes dancing. “You are,” he says, and puts his mouth on her neck. At that moment, Nyx bursts back into the room. “Daaad I spilled them!” he wails, and Rhys drops his head on Feyre’s chest with a growl. Next thing he knows, little Nyx is climbing up onto his back. He keeps the weight off Feyre as Nyx’s wings are getting heavy, but she reaches up for him and drags him between the two of them. “Nyx sandwich!!” she says. Rhys flares his wings out, wraps them all up and rolls onto his back taking them with him. “Nyx burrito!” he says, and Nyx’s peals of laughter are worth the tea and orange juice that is spilled all over the bed.

*****

Thank you anon for this lovely prompt, I hope this is fluff enough for you!! Are there burritos in Prythian? I don’t know but there are now...

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @asteria-of-mars

MASTERLIST

#asks #prompts #prompt fill #feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine #fluff

99 notes · View notes

rosemochi · 3 years

Note

16. Daybreak.

"How much for a room?"

The innkeeper stares. Zack stares back. He knows he's getting blood all over the floor, but it's not as if he can help it, and if the man declines to help him, then the puddle will just get larger. Finally, the innkeeper sighs, and Zack's shoulders sag in relief. "Hundred gil. Only got single beds, though."

He limps towards the desk. It takes a great deal of effort to grab his wallet, considering Cloud is still slung over his back. "That's fine." After a pause, he says, "Sorry about the mess. I'll clean—"

"Don't worry about it." The innkeeper hands him a key. "Room charge includes a cleanin' fee."

Their accommodations are filthy, but it's still better than the lab. Zack sets Cloud down on the bed, strips him of his wet clothes, and covers him with as many blankets as he can find. He still looks uncomfortable — because anybody would've been uncomfortable on such a thin mattress — so Zack takes his own pillow and shoves it underneath Cloud's head, leaving his own side bare. Finally, he collapses into a nearby armchair and watches Cloud with half-lidded, heavy eyes. "What are we gonna do?"

Cloud doesn't answer, of course. The only noise that greets Zack is the sound of the slums outside the window; the bustling crowds, loud, inhospitable, naturally wary of broad-shouldered men in sleeveless turtlenecks. It was a miracle that he'd even managed to find this inn, considering most people in Sector 7 avoided him like the plague. "We'll figure it out." Zack's voice is light, airy, confident; the opposite of what he feels inside. "It'll be fine."

---

It's not fine.

The next day dawns. Zack counts out his remaining gil. There's only enough for a week's worth of food, and that's if he stretches it. Going to the hospital isn't an option, and it's far too late to take a potion, so he eventually resorts to digging out the bullets in his torso with a pocket knife. They make a strange kind of music as they hit the bathroom sink, clinking against the porcelain, accompanied by the steady drip, drip, drip of Zack's blood. Cloud sleeps through Zack's grunts of pain, which he's grateful for — he doesn't want Cloud to see him like this.

As Zack bandages his wounds, he thinks back to the encounter that gave him all of these injuries to begin with. He's pretty sure Cloud didn't get hit by anything, but it's not as if he's conscious enough to say otherwise.

"Sorry, buddy," Zack says. "Gotta do this."

He lifts the blankets up. Cloud's torso looks fine — other than the keloid scar in the center of his chest, stark against his pale skin, and the frightening way his ribs stick out from his body, made thin by five years of stillness and artificial nutrition. Zack doesn't look for very long, because it feels weird; he's oddly flustered by the time he finishes his pseudo-examination.

Once he's finished, Zack goes to sit on the side of the bed and misses it entirely. He slowly sinks to the threadbare carpet, his shirt catching on the rough comforter as he goes down. His head is pounding, as if somebody's hammering on the insides of his brain with a hammer. "Good," he murmurs, relieved. "Just me, then."

---

Zack wakes, his head still aching, and hastily dresses in the only outfit he has. He wants to run his errands before the slums awaken, but Sector 7 is full of early birds... that are naturally wary of Shinra-issued super-soldiers. Zack arrives at a grocery store, dressed in his infamous uniform (sans pauldrons, though it doesn't help much), beelines for the produce, and promptly gets spat at over a bushel of carrots.

"I'm an ex-SOLD—" Zack sighs. The old Wutain woman walks away, muttering curses under her breath. "Nevermind."

He heads to a nearby clothing store and spends far too much money (five gil) on a new set of clothes. The turtleneck, belt, and pants find their way into a nearby dumpster. Now incognito, Zack quickly buys some necessities — food, water, more bandages, a bar of soap — and races back to the hotel room, eager to check on Cloud.

"I'm home," he announces. Cloud doesn't respond. Zack sits on the side of the bed and rifles through the grocery bags, emerging with a container of fruit. "I bought blueberries." He hastily covers his mouth with his other hand as he coughs, his chest burning from the exertion of running up the stairs. "Your—" Another cough. "Your favourite."

---

Could he be a mercenary? He doesn't see why not, really, other than the fact that somebody might recognize him (when he's supposed to be dead). Could leveraging his ex-SOLDIER status help drum up more business? Is it worth the risk? He'll figure it out in the morning, he decides. Zack lies his throbbing head down on the mattress and falls asleep, dreaming of the painkillers he'll buy with his mercenary money.

The fourth day comes. Zack opens his eyes and hisses in pain; the sunlight feels like it's burning a hole through his skull. He flips onto his stomach, seeking darkness, and hears an unfamiliar groan.

It takes him a moment to recognize the sound.

Zack leaps out of bed and immediately sways on his feet. Something is wrong, terribly wrong, but he can't let whatever it is stop him — Cloud needs him. He grabs a bottle of water, brings it to Cloud, and holds his head up so he can drink it.

As soon as the bottle's empty, Cloud asks, "Where are we?"

"Sector 7," Zack says. "The slums."

Cloud's eyes roam up and down Zack's bare torso, pausing at the blood-stained bandages. "I remember the cliff," he croaks. "I thought I dreamed it."

Zack lays back down on the hard mattress. He laughs, but there's no humor in the sound. "I wish."

The mattress squeaks as Cloud turns to face him. Zack carefully looks at him, emaniciated but animated, taking in all of the features — sunken eyes, sharp cheekbones, dry lips — that display his illness, equivalent to Zack's own sorry state. Still, there's something about the sight of Cloud that Zack finds strangely wonderful, something that makes his heart race — a feeling made stronger by the fact that it's him, awake, present, right beside him.

"We're alive," Cloud whispers in wonder.

"Yeah." Zack smiles. "We're alive."

---

Though Zack might not stay that way for long.

Day five. The morning sun burns his eyes like acid. Whatever's been plaguing Zack has grown infinitely worse, and he suspects it has something to do with one of his bullet wounds — whatever's making his bandages stain yellow rather than red. Or perhaps it's because he sat in soaked clothes for hours upon hours as he hauled Cloud to Midgar, frozen to the bone in the frigid December weather.

Or perhaps it's both.

The reason doesn't matter, really, because that's not the point. Isn't he supposed to be immune to these sorts of things? What on earth was the point of his augmentations if he still gets things like colds and infections?

Zack ventures back outside in search of medicine, for things he hasn't taken since he was a child in Gongaga, fighting against strep throat and bronchitis. He heads to the nearest pharmacy, because he still can't afford a doctor. Unfortunately, he finds out he can't afford basic remedies either.

"You got wounded?" The pharmacist says, eyes wide. "How long ago?"

"Five days."

"Way too late for a potion," he murmurs. He looks Zack up and down, then rifles underneath the counter. "I'm not supposed to sell these without a prescription, but..." He rings up the antibiotics. "Two hundred gil."

Zack grimaces. "I have fifty."

The pharmacist directs Zack to the veterinarian next door: somebody who sells drugs under the table for cheap. Zack pays ten gil for a bottle of canine antibiotics (which is still too much, but he can't take care of Cloud if he's dead himself) and stumbles back outside. His head swims as he wobbles down the street, knocking shoulders with Sector 7's many residents. He hits one woman particularly hard. "Sorry," he slurs.

The black-haired woman whirls around to face him. She gasps. "Wait—"

"Sorry."

The woman says something else, but Zack rushes forward, eager to get back to Cloud. He makes it back to the inn (though he's not quite sure how), tears his way back into the room, and promptly rushes for the toilet. The bile tears through his esophagus as it comes up, leaving his throat raw and scorched in its wake.

Something crashes in the bedroom. Zack looks over the rim and sees Cloud crawling towards him, a blanket tangled around his legs. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing," Zack insists, though he's sure he's not doing a very convincing job of it. He flushes the bile away. "Got meds."

Cloud hunts around for the bag that Zack dropped on the floor. Exhausted, he leans back on the bathroom cupboard, rips the bag open, and inspects the bottle. "This says 'for Fido'."

"He said something about 'equivalent doses'," Zack groans. "No idea what that means."

Somehow, he musters up the energy to pull himself up to the sink so he can brush his teeth. Cloud crawls up with him, using the counter as leverage. The image in the mirror is a frightening sight; Zack can barely recognize himself. Cloud reaches up and pulls a sweat-soaked strand of hair from Zack's temple. "When was the last time either of us showered?"

Zack grimaces as he thinks back. "Five years ago?"

It's a good thing they decide to shower together, because they end up having to hold each other up. Cloud doesn't have the dexterity to unbutton his own pants, so Zack does it for him; Zack doesn't have the strength to lift his arms above his head, so Cloud hooks his arms underneath Zack's shirt and pulls. They take turns scrubbing each other clean, trying to make up for each other's deficiencies. Zack's bandages get soaked, but he simply doesn't have the energy to care. "Bend down," Cloud says. "I'll get your hair."

The hot water doesn't last long. Strength spent, they end up on the floor, gasping for air and clutching each other for warmth. Zack's feverish forehead lands on Cloud's cold shoulder; the sensation makes him groan in relief, even though the rest of his body is frozen to the bone. "We might have to stay here forever," Cloud gasps. "I don't have the strength to haul you up."

Zack slowly drags his head up. Droplets of cold water drip down Cloud's chin, his jaw, his neck, collecting in the hollow of his throat. Zack's mouth is impossibly dry; if he didn't know any better, he might've tried to drink from it. "I'd be fine with that," he admits.

---

"Why did you give me your pillow?"

Zack drags his eyes open. Dim streaks of light pierce through the blinds, highlighting the dust in the air. The clock on the nightstand reads 5:30 AM. "You needed it more."

"How?" Cloud croaks. "I was unconscious."

Zack doesn't have a good answer for that, so he stays silent. Cloud sighs and tugs at his shoulders. "Roll over," he says, and Zack slowly complies. His head lands in the center of Cloud's chest — a much comfier surface than the hard mattress. "Stupid," Cloud whispers into his hair. "You're so stupid."

They slowly drift back to sleep. Zack dreams of everything — his childhood in Gongaga, his days as a SOLDIER, the bloodshed in Wutai, the pain, the glory, the atrocities, all blending together into a whirlpool of dreams and nightmares. At the center of the maelstrom, always present, is the laboratory and the years he spent with Cloud, so close and yet so far, within arm's reach but miles away. In his dreams, the glass is impenetrable, no matter how hard he tries to smash it; his screams are muffled by the mako that spills into his throat, filling his lungs, robbing him of freedom.

But not anymore.

Cloud is here. He's in front of him, beneath him, warm, breathing and alive. Cloud's arms rise up to hold him, enveloping Zack in a comforting warmth that feels like home; Zack's hands clutch at Cloud's shirt as if it's the only thing tethering him to the Planet. The fabric underneath his eyes quickly grows damp.

"Still feverish," Cloud whispers, his lips moving against Zack's forehead.

"Yeah?" Zack mumbles, as if he can't tell — though he obviously can. His head is swimming; he feels like a child again, sitting in the bow of his dad's fishing boat, feeling the ocean tug him to and fro. "Not enough dog meds."

"I'll go get them."

Zack's arms tighten around Cloud's waist. "Don't," he says. "They're not doing anything anyway."

"You have to keep taking them for them to work," Cloud argues. He eventually wiggles out from underneath him, though Zack does his best to make him stay put. An eternity passes before he returns, medicine and water in hand. "Open your mouth."

Zack's throat, still raw from bile, aches as he swallows the pills down. Cloud puts the medicine aside and collapses on top of him, utterly spent. They lay there for a while, arms twisted around each other, Zack taking comfort in Cloud's steady heartbeat. "Don't know what I'd do if I lost you," Cloud whispers.

Zack gently runs his fingers through Cloud's sweat-soaked hair. "You'd be fine."

"No," Cloud quietly argues. "No, I wouldn't."

Zack slowly sinks back into unconsciousness. For once, he dreams of nothing; his mind is a dark, cool abyss, a refuge from the fever. When he's pulled back into the world of the living, his surroundings are much of the same. Zack awakens to soft fingers running through his hair, stroking his burning forehead, caressing his sunken cheeks. Is he still dreaming? "Don't stop," Zack croaks. "Feels good."

The stroking continues. The fingers trace his brow, the slope of his nose, the bow of his parched mouth, thumb swiping against his bottom lip — where they suddenly stop. Zack opens his mouth to speak, to breathe, to ask for more, when something else presses against his lips: a mouth as chapped as his own.

The kiss is light, because it has to be; even in his dreams, there's no energy for passion. In its absence, the gentlest of movements becomes profound. Zack sighs as he gently presses his lips to Cloud's, swipes his tongue against his bottom lip, seeking his warmth. A shiver tears through him as Cloud's tongue brushes against his own—

—until Cloud abruptly pulls away. He coughs, his chest rattling as he desperately tries to catch his breath. Zack holds him tight and rubs his back until the coughing fit passes. "Shh," he whispers against Cloud's forehead. "Shh."

Cloud eventually stills. Zack can tell he's feverish too; the skin underneath his lips is hot to the touch. "Sorry," Cloud croaks. The misery in his voice makes Zack's chest hurt. "I'm sorry."

Zack shakes his head. What on earth could he ever be sorry for? "Don't be."

They lay there for what feels like an eternity. Zack drifts in and out of consciousness, through the past and present. The fever tries to pull him under, but he briefly comes up for air. "I'll kiss you properly," Zack croaks, "when we're better."

Cloud's arms tighten around him. "We're not getting better."

He's right. Zack's fever persists, no matter what meds he throws at it; he can feel death hovering nearby, waiting to pull him into the ether. "If you can move," Zack slowly says, "I want you to go to the hospital. Don't—" He coughs. "Don't worry about the—"

Cloud inches himself up Zack's body and kisses him again. He coughs, then kisses the corner of Zack's mouth, coughs, then kisses his cheek; the hacking sound is loud and startling, as if it's tearing his lungs into two. "Shut up," he says. "I'm not leaving you."

Zack's eyes close against his will, robbing him of the opportunity to argue. As he slowly sinks into darkness, he feels something wet drip onto his face, like a familiar droplet of rain from a stormy sky. If he were to open his eyes, would he see dark clouds? Would he still be on the cliff, lying in the torrent, waiting for death?

He opens his mouth to the rain, eager to soothe his parched throat, and tastes salt on his tongue.

---

Zack awakens. The light behind his closed eyelids is warm, soothing, like the sunlight that dries the earth after a storm. A soft breeze brushes against his neck, stirring his hair.

"Hey."

Zack cracks his mouth open. "Hey," he croaks.

The weight of Cloud's body pushes him into the ground. Is he alive? Dead? Has he always been dead? Zack doesn't know much about the afterlife, but he knows it's supposed to be a paradise, and an eternity with Cloud is the closest he'll ever get to it.

The sunlight grows warmer, enveloping him from within. The pain in his body ebbs, replaced by something that Zack can only describe as peace. "I love you," Cloud says.

He turns his head towards the sound. "I love you too," he says, smiling. "Always have."

Another sound slowly enters Zack's consciousness; two sets of heavy boots, smacking against wooden floors. "Somebody's coming," Cloud says. "Shinra?"

Zack wraps his arms around Cloud, holding him tight, tighter, until they're as close as two people could possibly be. Their bodies meld into one entity, one soul, impossible to separate, together for eternity. "I'm not going anywhere without you," Cloud says.

The boots come to a stop. "No," Zack agrees, shaking his head. "Never."

Knock.

Every single thing Zack meant to say over the past five years comes out in a rush. "I love you," he croaks, because he can never say it enough. "I love you, I love you—"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"I love you too," Cloud says, his voice thick with tears.

"What are you tryin' to do, tear the damn door down?!" the innkeeper growls. "Hold on. I've got a key."

It doesn't matter. None of it does. It doesn't matter what will happen, if they're alive or dead or somewhere in between, if they're spirits wandering through the ether, souls flitting through hazy dreams — because they'll always have each other.

"I love you."

The door opens.

#FF7 #FFVII #Zack Fair #Cloud Strife #Zack Fair/Cloud Strife #clack #drabble challenge #my fic #I wrote this while sick and you can kinda tell

24 notes · View notes

sfb123 · 3 years

Text

Sapere Aude - Part 8A

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: M -MATURE

Warning: Adult language, smut (🍋🍋🍋) and other adult themes.

Word Count: 4,049

Notes: I know I’ve sucked at updating and posting. I hit kind of a personal slump in my writing, there was a lot of self-loathing involved. I really struggled with writing chapter 9, and I eventually had a revelation that it was likely because I wasn’t done exploring everything that happened in chapter 8, so I’ve made a sub chapter. We follow Liam when after he leaves their quarters and get into his thought process in dealing with the bombshell that was dropped on him.

And yes, you read that rating right, my lemon tree has had its first bloom. I really stressed myself out over this, so I hope it’s worth the time I spent trying to convince myself that I was doing a good job, not to mention the time my friends had to spend (see below) to boost my ego.

Thank you so so much to @txemrn for reading a couple of snippets for me and being the cheerleader I needed when I was feeling really down on myself and my work...even though I was supposed to be the one giving YOU a peptalk!

And a super special thank you to my fairy smutmother @jessiembruno. You listened to me complain, and doubt myself, and a million other things multiple times a day while I was trying to find my way, and you never once came off as annoyed or frustrated. I am so lucky to be able to call you a friend.

Finally, thank you so much @twinkleallnight for my UPDATED moodboard! She took it upon herself to update it to better reflect the feel of the story, and she did a kick ass job!

Tags: I’m officially rocking my new tag list. Everyone is listed below as well as in the comments for safety. If you’d like to be added or removed, let me know!

“Liam, where are you going?”

“I need to take a walk. Gather my thoughts.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I need to be alone right now. You stay here, I’ll be back shortly.”

Before she could stop him, Liam was out the door. He knew she just wanted to be there for him, but he needed to be alone. The royal quarters, his home, his sanctuary, suddenly felt so small. He was suffocating there, he needed to get away, to breathe.

“Your majesty?” Bastien stopped him.

“I’m fine, Bastien, just going for a walk. Please stand down.” Liam tried to keep his tone and expression neutral, but it was obvious to Bastien that something was wrong. He bowed to the King, following orders and remaining at his post.

Liam continued walking through the palace, unsure where he was going, he just needed to get out. He found himself walking through the gardens, approaching the maze. One of his mother’s last projects before her passing...or rather, before she abandoned him. It was always a special place for Liam. Growing up, he would often go there to hide out when he was feeling lonely, or missing his mother more than usual. It was one of his favorite spots on the grounds, possibly in the world. How would he ever be able to look at this space the same again? It would serve as a constant reminder of the insurmountable betrayal he had faced at the hands of the woman that gave him life.

As he walked the familiar path through the maze, he considered his options. Perhaps he would burn it to the ground, and salt the earth to prevent any attempts at regrowth. Would that make him feel better? Would it take away the pain?

Likely not, but it would feel good to know that I took something away from her that she cherished so dearly. A metaphor for what she has done to me. My memories of her, her kindness, her generosity, they mean nothing anymore. Because, to her, I meant nothing. I couldn’t have. If I did, she wouldn’t have left.

He continued his journey, getting lost in his thoughts. He would look back at his childhood memories, trying to remember something, anything, that could ease this moment for him. Nothing came. His mind then wandered to the relationship he could have had with Thomas, his brother. He had another brother this whole time. All those times when Leo had run off to god knows where, he wouldn’t have had to be quite as alone as he was. Sure, he had Drake to keep him company, but Drake wasn’t a prince. He didn’t have the same expectations, the same limitations, that Liam faced. He could have had someone else by his side that understood all of it.

How was he supposed to feel about Thomas now that he knew the truth? His first instinct was anger, but he quickly rejected that. It wasn’t his fault that they were kept apart their whole lives. He was suddenly very curious about Thomas’s life.

What was his childhood like? How did he feel when he learned that he was also royalty? Has he ever wanted to say anything to me, to come forward? Would I have believed him if he had?

Even though he wasn’t supposed to know any of this, he hoped that things would get to a point where he could talk to Thomas, and ask those questions. Ideally in a casual setting over drinks, and not an interrogation cell.

Liam soon found himself in the center of the maze. As he took in his surroundings, his mind kept racing back to his childhood. The picnics with his mother, the games of maze tag with Drake.

I wonder if Thomas would have liked to play maze tag with us, had he been around.

He felt a sudden calming come over him at one point. When he took a look around, he realized that he was standing in the exact spot where he and Riley had landed when he inadvertently tackled her the night of the masquerade ball. The night he learned she had traveled halfway around the world just for a chance to be with him, because she felt what he was feeling after just a few hours together one night in New York. Even now, all these years later, he still felt the same butterflies in his stomach thinking of that moment.

Wistfully, he walked a bit further, to the spot where they stood the night of his coronation, where he had finally managed to say those three words he had been feeling since the moment his eyes met hers. He smiled as he replayed the memory of her saying it back to him. He was fairly certain at the time that she felt the same way, but to hear those words fall from her beautiful lips, he had never felt a high quite like that in his life. His mind then wandered to the events that those words led to, another moment he had long dreamed of. Physically expressing the love they had just declared. He felt his heart start to race thinking of their first time together. All of the sudden, anger quickly replaced all other emotions, as he remembered that there was a tape of that moment. A tape that was recorded, and held, by her group. He quickly searched the area, digging his arms through the hedges, looking for anywhere a camera might be hidden. He came up empty. Given how long it had been since the recording, it made sense that they had likely removed their surveillance from the area.

Another reason to be rid of this maze once and for all. Another reminder of the deceit. Only this time it’s worse, they brought Riley into it.

Liam needed to move on from the center of the maze, so he continued walking, finally coming across the wishing well. The wishing well his mother had told him about when he was a child.

Can you take back wishes? I wished so many times that my mother would come back to me, for her death to have been a misunderstanding. Well Liam, you got your wish, now look at you. How many other wishes have I made that will come back around to bite me in the ass?

His mind began to wander again. This time, to the night of the Homecoming Ball. The night Riley was officially presented as the Duchess of Valtora, and more importantly, his fiance. They both made wishes that night, he remembered his wish: to never let fear dictate his choices, the way his father did.

He let fear dictate his choices because of the loss of his wife. Had he known what truly happened, things would have been different. Perhaps he wouldn’t have interfered with my choice during the social season. I could have been with Riley all along. The way things were always supposed to be. I know we ended up together, and the struggles made our bond that much stronger, but there was a very real chance that I could have lost her forever, I almost did, over his choice.

Thinking of Riley reminded him of her reassurances that night, she was so confident in his ability to be a good King. She believed in him from day one, and never faltered in that. Even when he didn’t believe in himself, thinking of Riley, and her faith in him gave him the strength to continue on. To be the best man, and King he could be. To make his Queen proud.

In that moment, Liam had an epiphany. This maze was so much more than his childhood and memories of a mother that betrayed him. This maze was about the love he and Riley shared. It had played a paramount role in their story. When he looked around, he saw memories of them, their stolen moments, their heartfelt confessions. He couldn’t get rid of this maze, if he did, he would be destroying a piece of his heart.

From this moment forward, this maze is not about her, not about the lies that she raised me on. It is about the love and support I have shared with my soulmate. This is where our love, much like the flowers that adorn these hedges, blossomed.

Riley...my heart, my world, my Queen. She gave up her life, her freedom, to be with me. She left her family and friends, her job, everything, for me. She has dedicated her life to my country, she has taken on my responsibilities. What have I done in return? I’ve put her in this impossible position. I’ve put her in harm's way, yet again, for the good of Cordonia. A country had never even heard of before I came in and turned her life upside down.

He needed to get back to her. Walking back toward the palace, he started considering how she might be feeling in that moment. He had been so caught up in his own mind, that he didn’t stop to think what all of this was doing to her. She had to deliver devastating news to the man she loved, and his reaction was to abandon her. His heart sank as he approached their quarters, he felt so small. He entered their bedroom, overwhelmed with shame for the way he had left her.

Of course she’s still awake. She probably stayed up worrying about me. I was so selfish to just leave her like that.

He kept his head down, too ashamed to look her in the eye, and walked straight into his closet to get ready for bed. His mind working overtime, trying to find the right words, but nothing came. He exited the closet and walked toward the bed, hoping something would come to him.

Finally, Riley broke the silence in the room.

“Liam…” She said barely above a whisper, he turned his head and looked at her for the first time since arriving home. “I’m sorry.” She placed her hand gently over his.

She thinks I’m mad at her. She’s blaming herself. How does she not understand that she is the only thing keeping me from going off the edge? I’m the one that dragged her through all of this, and she’s apologizing to me. I don’t deserve her love.

He was overwhelmed with anger at himself, and heartbreak for his wife. “Riley, you have nothing to apologize for. I am the one that wanted you to do this. You did nothing wrong. None of this is on you.” He tried to smile, but he knew it was unconvincing. He could feel the sting of tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

“Fine, but you’re not allowed to blame yourself either.”

Even to this day, after all of these years, it astonishes me how she can see right through me like that. I’ve had years of training to hide my thoughts and emotions, that training proved useless when it comes to Riley.

“What you just said, telling me you were the one that wanted me to do this. I know you Liam Rys, better than anyone. You’re thinking about how you brought all of this on yourself.”

It’s the truth. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t talked you into joining.

For the second time that night, Liam couldn’t bear to look his wife in the eyes. She was right, but so was he. Liam felt the firm, yet loving touch of Riley’s hand holding his chin and lifting his gaze to meet hers. There was a fire in her eyes, unlike any he had seen from her before.

“This is all on them, it’s the Via Imperii’s fault. That’s why we’re going to take them down. Together. Just like Anton, just like Auvernal, just like Barthelemy, just like any other enemy that has ever, or will ever come our way. We are the King and Queen of Cordonia, Liam and Riley Rys. We are a force to be reckoned with.”

Liam was taken aback by the determination in her statement. He knew she was strong, she had been his rock since the day they met, but this was so much more than that. He didn’t know it was possible, but he felt his love for her grow.

Awestruck, he took the hand she had planted on his chin in his, and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You always know just what to say, love.”

“Years of diplomatic training. I need to be prepared for every possible scenario.” She winked at him.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment. She made it seem so easy to turn his mood around. It was something he would never understand, but always be grateful for.

God, I love this woman.

Riley smiled and leaned into him. “C’mon, let’s try to get some sleep. We can circle back to this nightmare in the morning, start working on a plan.” They both laid back onto the bed, and into each others arms.

In the middle of the night, Liam’s eyes shot open, his heart pounding in his chest, worry overcoming him. He needed a moment to get his bearings, turning to his left to make sure she was still there. She was.

He had been dreaming, a nightmare, technically. Riley was gone, he wasn’t sure where she had gone or why. All he knew was he felt empty, broken, more so than he ever had before. He watched Riley as she slept, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He thought back to his family, the people that were supposed to be there and care for him above all else.

His mother, who had lied to him from the second he was brought into this world. She was his benchmark for love and support, but it was all fake. Because of her, he lived his life based on false ideals. Then he met Riley, she showed him what love and support truly was.

Leo, he was a great brother growing up. He made sure Liam got to have fun, and took the heat when it would get out of hand. However as he got older, his priorities changed, and he was around less and less. When he finally abdicated the throne, he placed the weight of the world on Liam’s shoulders. The bright side to that, was that becoming the Crown Prince, and having a social season, brought Riley into his life. She helped him believe that he truly could carry the weight that was thrust upon him.

His father, a King above all else. As hard as Liam tried to break through that wall, it was duty and his country above all else. That never mattered to Liam though, he still looked up to his father and held him to such a high standard. Until it was uncovered that he attempted to destroy his son’s one chance at true happiness. Despite his attempts at ruining her name, and putting her in harm’s way, Riley stayed and fought. She fought for herself, and she fought for their love. She forgave him for his actions, something Liam was never fully able to do. And when Liam mourned his loss, she was there by his side, holding his hand.

Riley, his bright spot in all of the darkness. His constant source of goodness and joy. In all of that pain, Riley was there. Who would be there if she left him? He would have nothing, he would be nothing. He felt a tightness in his chest at the thought of losing her. He reached his hand out and gently stroked her arm, needing to touch her.

He saw her eyes slowly start to flutter open.

She’s cute when she’s tired.

He watched as she lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Hey, are you ok?”

He unsuccessfully tried to swallow away the lump in his throat before answering. “Please don’t leave me, Riley.”

Liam watched as she sat up in bed, a confused look on her face. “Liam, never. I love you, you’re stuck with me for life.

He knew she meant it, but he also knew these things weren’t always under their control. “I just…there have been so many people that said they cared about me, and then left. Losing them was so hard. But if I lost you Riley, I don’t know how I would be able to continue on. You are the most important part of me, my everything. I don’t exist without you.”

A sadness overtook Riley’s face, Liam felt horrible for making her feel that way. He looked down before feeling her hands on either side of his face, her thumbs softly stroking his cheeks. “Liam, I promise you with all my heart, and everything I am, that there is nothing on this earth that could take me away from you. My husband and my daughter are the greatest joys of my life. A world without the two of you is not a world I would ever even want to think about.”

In that moment, all Liam could think about was being as close to her as he possibly could. He desperately needed to feel her body tangled with his. He surged forward and kissed her with everything he had. It was a kiss loaded with love, longing, and need. He lowered Riley from her seated position and rolled on top of her.

“Show me.” He whispered.

“Yes, my king.”

He shuddered at her words. Pinning her hands above her head, he slowly rolled his hips into her so that she could feel just how desperate he was for his wife. Riley closed her eyes and moaned at the sensation.

Liam’s mouth moved to her ear, nipping at the lobe before saying in a commanding, yet tender tone, “Open your eyes Riley, I want you to see everything I am going to do to you.”

Riley’s eyes opened as she met Liam’s hungry gaze. “Yes, my king.”

“Good girl.” He kissed her deeply, removing one hand from hers and slowly moving it down her body, traveling the familiar curves that drove him crazy time and time again.

Liam’s lips moved away from hers, treading across her jawline and down her neck. Riley hissed at the feeling of his teeth running along her tender skin. “Liam, calm down. You’re going to leave marks.”

“Good, they will serve as a reminder that you belong here, with me.”

Riley freed her wrists from Liam’s grasp and brought his face to hers. “Liam, I don’t need a reminder, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

He silenced her with a searing kiss. One hand traced the curve of her breast as the other traveled downward, rubbing her center through her panties. “You’re so wet for me already, love.”

All Riley could do was groan in response. She felt his lips return to her neck, as his hands traveled to the hem of her tank top, he gently lifted the shirt over her head and deposited it on the floor. His mouth continued its descent, kissing her shoulder and quickly moving to her breast, taking the nipple into his mouth, slowly circling it with his tongue. He kissed across her chest, paying the same attention to the other breast.

The quiet moans and whimpers coming from his wife were the encouragement Liam needed to continue moving south, kissing down her torso until he was met with the waistband of her panties. He paused and looked up at her.

“Liam, please.” She whispered, desperate for him to remove the lacy barrier.

He gave her a wolfish grin before taking them between his teeth and quickly dragging them down her legs. Once they were removed, he lifted her foot and softly kissed the inside of her ankle, his lips moved at a painfully slow speed, resting her leg over his shoulder as he moved closer to her wanting center.

As soon as Riley felt Liam’s breath on her glistening core, her own breath hitched. Liam heard it, and it satisfied him to know that in that moment she needed him just as much as he needed her. He tantalizingly licked up the length of her slit until he reached her sensitive nub.

She gasped as he began sucking and licking, his tongue moving in calculated circles. He knew her body inside and out, he knew just what to do to her to get the reaction he wanted.

Riley’s hands quickly found their way to Liam, running her fingers through his hair and gripping tightly guiding him exactly where she needed him. The pressure caused Liam to moan into her, Riley felt the vibration against her body and trembled.

Sensing that she was close to her release, he slowly slid one finger inside of her, and curled it slightly. She bucked her hips and moaned Liam’s name, that was all the invitation he needed to add a second finger.

“Yes Liam, don’t stop.”

He looked up at her with an unmistakable mix of lust and adoration. “Never, Riley.” Before continuing his efforts, causing Riley to plummet over the edge, loudly moaning his name. He worked through her release, savoring every second of her ecstasy.

As she started to come down from her release, Liam kissed a path up her stomach, positioning himself on top of her. Once they were face to face he kissed her deeply.

Their tongues intertwined, and Riley’s hands drifted to the front of Liam’s pajama pants, palming his hardness through the fabric eliciting a deep groan from him. Riley smiled into the kiss, moving her hand into his pants, wrapping it around his length and pumping slowly.

“Mmm...are you ready to take all of me, love?” He asked as he thrust into her hand.

Riley nipped at his bottom lip before responding. “Yes Liam, I need you.”

He quickly removed his pants, lining himself up with her entrance. Pressing his forehead to hers, and looking deep into her eyes, he eased himself into her carefully, desperate to feel every inch of her. He paused for a moment, allowing her to adjust before slowly rocking his hips against her.

As they moved together, Liam began sucking and nibbling on Riley’s earlobe. Riley whimpered in response, her hands running up and down his muscular back. She wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels into him, urging him to move faster. He complied, and almost immediately, he felt her walls starting to clench around him.

“That’s it Riley. Cum for me, love.” He locked eyes with her again, bringing one hand to her cheek to ensure she held his gaze through her release.

Riley’s back arched as she lost control, the muscles in her body tensed, and she screamed out in pleasure. “Oh god Liam, yes!”

Watching and feeling Riley come undone was all Liam needed to push him over the edge. He thrust into her one last time with a guttural groan as he filled her with his seed.

They laid still for several moments, Liam resting his face in the crook of Riley’s neck, breathing in her scent as his breathing slowly began to return to normal. He then removed himself from her and laid on his back, pulling Riley to his side. She rested her head on his chest, and he responded by planting a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.

“Are you feeling better?” She tilted her head up to look at him.

He stroked her cheek and smiled softly at her. “Much. Thank you Riley.” Their lips met in a brief kiss.

“Good. Now please try to get some sleep, we’re going to have a lot to figure out in the morning.”

“Of course. Riley?”

She looked up at him, eyelids heavy. “Hmm?”

“I love you, so much.” He kissed her on her forehead.

She smiled and leaned into him, placing several light kisses on his chest. “I love you too, Liam. Always.”

He let out a content sigh and tightened his arms around his wife as they both drifted off to sleep.

Permatag:

@anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @texaskitten30 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Sapere Aude:

@burnsoslow

Liam x Riley:

@jared2612

77 notes · View notes

inglourious-imagines · 3 years

Text

Beautiful Lies (Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader)

Summary: The reader tried to persuade the Weasley twins to bring her along to another prank of theirs but they’re not sure if can lie good enough to cover for them. How should she prove them she’s made for it?

HP Taglist: @alienoresimagines @95swifi @lunalovecroft @sarcasticallywitty15

“What in the world do I have to do so you’ll bring me along?!” Y/N cried out, desperation written all over her face. She’d been trying for over a week now to show the twins she’s good enough to let her join their little prank club. It was safe to say that the young witch had tried everything to show them just how similarly brilliant her mind is to theirs. She even managed to pull an outstanding prank on George that eventually ended up embarrassing Fred as well so it was even a bigger accomplishment than she expected it to be. Hermione started to doubt Y/N’s not a Weasley after all, calling her a “Weasley from another mother” that left her a flustered mess every time she glanced at Ron trying to bury the obvious feelings deep inside of her so no one could ever find out. Little did Y/N know that Hermione is very well aware of everything that was going on inside of her head – especially about the little crush she’d developed on Ron over the years.

“We already told you that we can’t just bring you with us, love.” Fred chuckled winking at the girl in front of him.

“But why? I literally proved you that I’m just what you need! A new way of thinking in the game!” Y/N tried her luck one more time, her heart sunk a little with every word Fred just said. It may had not been a good idea to go after them every minute of every day, imposing herself like an idiot.

The Weasley twins exchanged a knowing look, one very well known to Y/N revealing to her that they just agreed on something without the need to use any words. The plan was formed. The die was cast. The game was on.

“Spill it. What did you two come up with? Some sort of last challenge to show what a genius I am?” the Y/H/C-haired girl smirked, earning two even wider grins from the tall red-heads. She was definitely the perfect person to their team but why not have some fun first?

“Show us how can you lie. We want to hear you lie real hard to someone, doesn’t matter about what but it has to be convincing enough. We need to know you’re able to cover for us.” George stated as mischievous fire was dancing in his eyes.

“You know what, George? Why not set a concrete person as well to make it more challenging? I’m sure Y/N can manage since she’s such a genius.” the other twin nodded and she knew she won’t like a bit what they’re about to say.

“Fred, I’m thinking exactly the same thing.”

“Lie to Ron.” both of them almost sang, their voices filled with mischief as they watched Y/N’s face go from a pale white to a burning red. She expected a lot of things but not this one, not a one that would include their brother. It was at this exact moment, the twin’s eyes sparkled, when Y/N realized that they might have known about her crush all along.

“Ehm… about what exactly?” she cleared her voice so it wouldn’t sound so shaky and nervous but she had a suspicion that it just added to the twin’s conviction.

“We believe you’ll think of something, won’t you, darling?” Fred smirked high-fiving George in the air at their triumph.

•••

Y/N spent the rest of the day trying to come up with something so convincing that it’d surprise the Weasley twins so hard that they’ll have to beg her to join them. She eventually asked Hermione for some help but not even the smartest witch seemed to think of something that brilliant.

Y/N replayed the conversation with the twins from earlier that day over and over in her head trying to find at least some clue on why they looked like they just won the Triwizard tournament.

Lie to Ron.

His name circled in her mind like a dangerous thought. Y/N didn’t paid much attention to her surroundings, being really occupied with her current problem, so when a certain person walked down the stairs into the common room, she didn’t bother to look up and kept on contemplating about her mischief.

“We don’t have any assignments for tomorrow, do we?” his voiced echoed through the place and her head shot up immediately. Y/N was met with a pair of blue eyes burning into her. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly got dry and she wasn’t able to get out a single word.

“I think Y/N’s trying to say that we’re just studying, right?” Hermione tried to save the situation as she sent her an inconspicuous look that was worth a million words.

“Oh, y-yeah, right. Just studying. You should try it too.” she managed to say, finally looking away from Ron’s captivating eyes that didn’t make her stutter for some random reason.

“Studying, girls, right?” another pair of familiar voices joined the conversation and Y/N could not help but roll her eyes at their knowing smirks. This was way too harder than she thought and she was very well aware of the fact that the twins are definitely winning their little challenge.

“Maybe we could study some day together, Y/N?” Ron’s quiet voice brought her back from the speculating as he sat down on the sofa next to her, maybe way too closer, Y/N suddenly focusing on the proximity between them.

“We certainly can! That’d be awesome.” she responded too quickly and too enthusiastically than she probably should but at this moment she didn’t really care any more. The game was bloody on and she was gonna get what she wanted.

“Really?” Ron almost squealed with delight, his cheeks blushing immediately, “I mean, really?” his voice sounding deeper and more serious now. She let out an amused laugh, while her mind inappropriately wandered to his lips and how would it feel to touch them. With the corner of her eyes, Y/N caught a glimpse of the twins closely eavesdropping their whole conversation, looking smug as ever.

It was then when it hit her, what the red-heads truly meant.

“Of course, Ron.” Y/N moved a bit closer to his body, “but there’s a little catch.”

Ronald’s palms got suddenly all sweaty as he felt her warm breath on his skin. His body yarned for her gentle touch, every single part of his soul desired just to hold her hand and never let go.

“And what’s t-that?” he stuttered, trying so hard not to stare at her lips and failing miserably.

“Because when we’re gonna be alone to have peace, I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you.” she whispered into his ear, her hand slightly touching his thigh.

•••

“Alright, we were so wrong,” Fred admitted, a playful smirk set on his face, “you may join the big boys now, Y/N!”

A blush crept onto her cheeks at his statement, suddenly feeling like she’s gonna burst with excitement any next second. “I knew it!”

“We’re planning a little something for the next week so join us tomorrow in the library.” George added as he paced from one spot to another, his hair getting into his view.

“Library? I’m surprised you even know what that word means.” Y/N grinned, her eyes full of sparkles. She will fit in just fine, more than just fine actually. If the twins were out of hand before, the trio will cross the unachievable boundaries in no time and Hogwarts was definitely not ready for the Weasley twins combined with another prank mastermind Y/N Y/L/N.

“The lie you said to Ron? About the touching and stuff? You should have seen his face when those words left your mouth!” Fred laughed throwing his arm around her shoulder pulling her closer to him.

“Freddie’s right,” George couldn’t help but giggle as he hugged her from her other side, “you’re evil.”

The common room was filled with their hearty laughter, excitement was basically radiating off the trio, not really paying any attention to another Weasley standing dumbfounded on the stairs that lead to the boys dormitory, staring at them.

“So it wall just a stupid challenge? Like some game with my bloody heart?!” his voice echoed through the room, making the three students stop in their tracks immediately as they all turned to angry Ronald Weasley. His eyes were entirely focused on the only girl there, captivating her in his stare. Y/N wasn’t able to move for one inch, guilt filling her heart when she realized what she had truly done.

“I actually remembered Harry wanted to talk to us, see you two soon!” the twins waved at the two oblivious people, clearly head over heels in love with the other, and quickly stumbled out of the room. Neither did Y/N or Ron look at them leaving and it wasn’t until the doors closed behind the two tall red-heads that Ron made a few long quick steps towards her.

“So was it?” he wasn’t shouting any more, his voice firm, steady and hard.

“No, of course not.” she whispered as she looked at the tip of her shoes trying to avoid his painful stare. This wasn’t what she intended to do.

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying to you! If you just let me explain!”

Both of them were breathing hard, their chests rising up and down like after a long run.

“So you could come up with another lie, huh?” he scoffed, shaking with his head in doubt, “some people might actually have feeling, you know!”

Anger was slowly bottling up in her as she realized one important thing. Y/N wasn’t lying before, it was all true. The boy in front of her was so close yet so far away and she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms that would make her feel like she’s home.

“Maybe I wasn’t actually bloody lying to you, Ronald! Don’t you dare talk about some feelings to me when I’ve been trying to show you just how much I admire and like you while you’ve spending all your time with Hermione!”

Y/N took a deep breath as she continued. She kept it all inside for too long, it was like with every other word she gained more confidence. “I don’t blame you, Hermione is an amazing girl but stop putting all of the blame on me when clearly it’s also your fault!”

As the confession rolled over her tongue, Ron finally calmed himself down, realizing what a stupid thing he’d done. He watched Y/N’s rosy lips move and he suddenly had to fight a strong urge not to embrace her in his arms kissing her like there’s no tomorrow.

“You like me?” he breathed out, not really believing what his long-time crush just said right into his face.

“Yes,” she smiled sweetly, “very very much.”

“Well, I might like you very very much too.”

“You might? You better get your things straight, Weasley.”

“Alright, I like you very very much, Y/L/N.”

“That’s more like it.”

149 notes · View notes

i-put-the-leg-in-legolas · 3 years

Text

Promise me- Legolas x Reader

Triggers: Insecurity about oneself, a LOT of crying

Summary: (Y/n), stricken by grief, lets her emotions loose, but Legolas doesn’t hesitate to comfort her and remind her how much she means to him.

❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈

The crisp, autumn air hit (Y/n)'s face, causing the warm tears that were now rolling down her cheeks to dry. But even though those tears dried, it wasn't long until more took their place. Truth to be told, the girl was exhausted. Both physically and mentally.

Though they'd started as 10, the Fellowship, which she was part of, had now been broken down and reduced to 4. Boromir had died in the hands of orcs, Frodo and Sam had gone off to god-knows-where, Gandalf had sacrificed himself to save them from Balrog, and Merry and Pippin, the sweet little hobbits that made the seemingly endless adventure less insufferable, had been taken by orcs.

Now, she found herself crying while her back resting against the trunk of a tree and her chin resting on her knees. The remaining members of the Fellowship were at least 10 feet away from her, all fast asleep as the warmth of the fire kept them warm and protected from the cold. She thought about their situation, about where the four little hobbits were, and whether they were alive or not, and this only made her sob even harder.

Between her soft whimpers and her heaving, the rustling of leaves could be heard, but (Y/n) didn't pay it any mind, instead focusing on the thoughts that swarmed her head and made her heart ache. The soft sound of crunching leaves got closer and closer, and without her even noticing it, in a matter of seconds, a certain blond was standing in front of her.

"(Y/n)?" Legolas murmured in a soft tone. Upon not receiving anything other than a soft whimper as a response, the elf kneeled beside the (h/c) haired girl and placed a hand on her shoulder. "(Y/n), look at me... what's wrong, nîn tinu?"

Legolas's soft words only made the girl turn away from him, mumbling inaudible 'leave me alone's and 'go away's. The elf sighed at this and sat down beside her, gently holding her cheek with his pale hand and moving her face; so she was facing him.

(Y/n)'s cheeks and nose were red, and so were her eyes. Legolas couldn't help but let his face soften as he noticed the state the woman he fancied was in. (Y/n) noticed the change in the elf's expression and immediately looked away, too embarrassed for him to see her in that state.

"Don't look away from me, nîn bain, tell me what's on your mind," Legolas cooed, gently taking hold of (Y/n)'s both cheeks. As his fingertips caressed the soft, damp skin of her lips, the girl let out a sigh and lightly nuzzled her face into the elf's hands.

"I'm just worried, Leggy... what if the hobbits don't make it to Mountain Doom? And-and what if we never find Merry and Pippin? Or even worse, what if we find them when it's too late?" (Y/n) lamented. She'd tried to keep her weeping quiet earlier, but now, it had all become too much for her to handle. Legolas's soft palms on her face made her completely break down, and before she knew it, she was wailing.

Though slightly taken aback, Legolas immediately wrapped his arms around her and gently helped her to her feet. "Come on... we don't want the others to wake up," he murmured, planting a soft kiss on top of the girl's hair as he slowly walked her away from their sleeping companions.

After a few minutes, they got to a small clearing, and there, Legolas sat down on the ground and pulled (Y/n) into his lap. "I know you're scared, meleth... but trust me, I know this will all work out in the end," Legolas soothed, running his fingers through the girl's tangled locks.

"How?" (Y/n) questioned, "How can you possibly say that it will all work out in the end? We've already lost two members of the fellowship, orcs kidnapped the other two, and we don't know if Frodo and Sam are even alive, for Valar's sake!"

Though he was slightly fazed by (Y/n)'s outburst, Legolas held the girl even closer, letting her sob on his chest and weakly bang her fists against his back. "This isn't fair! Why didn't take me instead, Legolas?! why?!" the girl wailed.

"Gandalf could've helped so many people, and-and Sam! He wanted to get married and have a family, and Merry and Pippin... they were so young, Legolas, they still had so much to live for, so many experiences they hadn't, well, experienced yet! How could I forget Boromit... he would've been such a great king, he would've been a magnificent ruler!" (Y/n) cried.

"And Frodo... he had so much potential, he was smart, and-and such a great person..." after uttering those words, (Y/n) sighed and looked up at Legolas, who held her tightly in his arms, gently tucking a strand of her behind his ear before wiping away her tears.

"What I'm saying is... I think that it's unfair that they all went away instead of me... I mean, let's face it, Legolas. I'm just a healer! I'm not the heir to a throne, like Aragorn, or-or a prince like you," (Y/n) said, looking down at her lap. "And if I died, nobody would care... I don't have a family that would mourn me like the rest of you do..."

Legolas gasped at the girl's statement and immediately shook his head before looking down at her with a serious expression. "Don't ever say that, (Y/n)! You're worth just as much as everyone else in these fellowship, and I know you deny it, but you're extraordinary!" the elf stated, "You're beautiful, smart, and such a gentle soul... and I swear to Valar that if you ever left my mind, I'd go crazy, (Y/n)... my life has no meaning without you..."

Legolas's words only made (Y/n) tear up more, but between sobs, she managed to pull away from Legolas and tried to walk away, only for him to follow her, refusing to let go of her hand. "Stop this, Legolas! Stop it!" she shouted, snatching her hand away from the elf's grasp.

"Stop what, (Y/n)? All I want to do is help you, nîn meleth! I can't stand seeing you like this!" Legolas groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Yes, he loved (Y/n) dearly, but he wasn't the best with emotions, and it frustrated him to see her that way and know that there possibly was no way he could help her.

"Stop giving me false hopes, making all those promises about how we'll start courting when all of this ends! Stop making me feel like the star of your eyes, Legolas!" (Y/n) bellowed, tears from anger and sorrow now soaking her cheeks. "If we make it out alive of this, you're just going to go off to your kingdom and find a beautiful elven maiden, I know it! Why would you want to stay with me, either way?! I'm not as slender and pretty as the elves, and I'm not even immortal like you are! I'm not the prettiest woman in Middle Earth, Legolas... hell, I'm not even close to being the prettiest of humans..."

Though throughout the whole ordeal Legolas tried his hardest to keep his emotions at bay, he couldn't help but shed a tear at (Y/n)'s words. He found it unimaginable how someone like her, someone so beautiful both inside and out, could think that she wasn't worthy of his love. In any case, it was he who was not worthy of her love.

By now, (Y/n) had fallen to her knees and was weakly crying into her hands. She'd almost ran out of tears, so she just heaved and desperately gasped for air, her chest aching with every dry sob that left her mouth. It was a tragic sight, to say the least.

"(Y/n), listen to me... my life has no meaning without you, and if I had to choose between enduring a painful and slow death but being able to spend the little time I have with you, or living forever without you by my side, I'd choose the first option without a doubt," Legolas sniffled, slowly approaching (Y/n) and gently rubbing her back.

At first, the girl tried to resist the elf's caresses, but he didn't budge, so (Y/n) slowly leaned against his touch, her crying starting to mellow. "If I could, I'd take down all the stars in the sky and gift them to you... it would be unnecessary as your beauty surpasses that of every star, but if you wanted me to, I'd do it... I'd do anything for my queen, nîn meleth..."

(Y/n) turned around and tightly wrapped her arms around Legolas's neck, nuzzling her head on the crook of his neck. Her raggedy breath tickled the elf's neck, but he didn't care. Instead, he focused on whispering sweet and loving words into the girl's ear.

"I will always be here for you, no matter the situation, nîn tinu..." Legolas softly cooed, gently moving the healer's face, so she was facing him. (Y/n) looked like a complete mess, but in Legolas's eyes, she looked angelical as always. "Promise me something..." the elf whispered, tenderly leaning his forehead against (Y/N)'s.

"For you, Leggy, anything..." (Y/n) breathily said, sweetly brushing her fingertips against Legolas's nape.

"Please promise me that you'll never forget that I'll always be there for you. Even if life takes a cruel and unexpected turn and makes us part, I'll find a way to find you, and I'll never rest until I do it. After all, you're I Ithil ned nîn fuin, nîn maethor... you make my life worth living, (Y/n)..."

"Oh, Legolas... gen melin, nîn cundu..." (Y/n) whispered, staring into Legolas's cerulean eyes. As she stared into the prince's, she didn't see anything other than genuine love and admiration. For once in her life, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as unattractive or boring as she thought. Legolas's eyes and words were so convincing that for the first time in her life, she felt like she belonged, she felt like she was valued. Maybe the prince's words, which she had brushed off as lies for so long, were the truth.

"I love you too, my queen... I adore you with my whole being."

Elvish Translations

Nin tinu- my star

Nin bain- my beautiful

Meleth- love

I Ithil ned nîn fuin- the moon in my night

Nîn maethor- my warrior

Gen melin- I love you

Nîn cundu- my prince

#lotr #lotr imagine #lotr imagines #legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas imagine #lord of the rings imagine

127 notes · View notes

peterspideyy · 3 years

Text

chapter 1 | safe

series masterlist

————

newt sat up, inhaling as much air as he could manage, as his eyes shot open. he felt a pain soar through his body, causing him to groan at the feeling. his ears rang with each heavy beat of his heart, as he allowed himself to look around and gather his bearings.

he was in a hut of some sort. it was old and basic. an oak table, with two chairs tucked underneath it. dusty windows, causing newt to hardly see anything out of it. a vase on the window sill, with dead flowers in it. there’s a cupboard above a sink in the corner, with the door broken off the hinges, causing newt just to see half of a blue box, with the letters ‘cd’ on it. wooden walls decaying surrounded him, with parts of it broken, allowing newt just the chance to see through the tiny cracks.

he saw the scorch. he could recognise that dreadful sand from a mile away. he still remembers that walk to the right arm, like the back of his hand. and how thomas said-

newt gasped.

thomas. minho. gally. frypan.

where was his friends?

and then, all the memories of that night came back.

he was dead. a knife was plunged in his chest. he still remembers the excruciating pain he felt, yet he still smiled at his tommy, before all the life was drained out of him. they must of left him to burn as the last city crumbled down. he doesn’t feel angry at them, for leaving him. he would of done the same. it would of been extra baggage.

but, if he was dead, then why is he alive? he can see the room he is in. he can hear the distant winds of the scorch. he can feel the hard floor beneath him. he wouldn’t of been able to do that, if he was bloody dead.

newt looked down, brining his hands up into his vision. as well as noticing how clean they were, the veins were gone. he scrambled his t-shirt sleeve up, to see his infected scar- gone. it was like it never existed in the first place.

“what the...” newt thought to himself, looking at his other arm, remembering the dark veins covering it, but instead saw his own skin starring back at him.

what happened to him?

suddenly, the front door slammed open, causing the british boy to jump to his feet, but he instantly regretted that thanks to the thumping pain in his brain, as all the blood rushed to his head. but, he stopped wincing, as a figure walked into the hut.

newt immediately noticed the rifle, leaning on there left shoulder. the person stood still, just starring at the quivering boy, before walking into the light. the woman was a bit taller than newt but looked around the same age as him, with dark brown hair, tied messily into a pony tail. some strands still fell in front of her face though, hiding her hazel eyes and blank expression. but, she suddenly chuckled slightly, walking to the table, throwing the gun on top of it, causing a loud bang that made newt flinch.

“thought you would never wake up.” she spoke, still not turning to face newt, as she placed a bullet onto the side. her voice was petite, that surprised newt a lot.

“well,” newt coughed, clearing his through, “well, i-i have now.”

she turned to face him, “no shit.”

newt gulped.

“got a name?” she inquired.

“newt.”

she raised her eyebrows, “newt?”

he nodded.

after a couple minutes of silence passed, and as newt watched the woman put the rifle away, he cleared his through again.

“what‘s...your name?”

“doesn’t matter,” she walked towards him, “what matters is that you get out of my house.”

“what?”

“you heard me.” she sighed, walking away to open the door, gesturing for him to walk through it.

newt couldn’t leave now. he needed answers.

“no, i’m not going.”

“what?!” she shouted, eyes wide.

“the last thing i remember, is me dying. and now i’m alive? it’s not everyday that you die and come bloody back to life?!”

the woman froze, taking in his words.

“so, you either tell me why i’m alive or i’m not leaving.”

————

thomas shot up, breathing out heavily, sweat dripping off his forehead as his eyes shot open. tears fell down his cheek, at the nightmare he just visualised. well, it wasn’t a nightmare. he actually watched his best friend die in his arms.

he chocked back a sob, as it hit in, nearly knocking him unconscious.

newt’s dead. and it’s all his fault.

if only he fought harder for newt to stay with gally and wait for the serum, instead of listening to his ‘you can’t do it on your own.’ if only he didn’t get distracted for wanting to kill ava paige, he could of instead focused of saving newt and minho. if only-

“hey, thomas.”

he looked up to see minho, stood in the doorway of the tent. he smiled, but it never met his eyes. thomas returned to gesture back slightly, as they both silently mourned there friend. guilt still eats away at thomas. he caused minho to loose the only person he trusts and cares about, since the maze.

“hey, minho. what’s up?” thomas asked, standing up out of his bed, rubbing his eyes.

minho stood silently, watching his actions, noticing the dark bags underneath his eyes, “just letting you know that frypan has cooked breakfast.”

“oh, erm...i’ll be right out.” thomas mumbled.

“okay.” minho nodded, but neither of them moved.

“are you okay?”

minho’s question caused thomas’ heart to pang in pain, as his breaths got caught up in his throat. tears welled up in his eyes at the most simple question in the world. how could he be okay, after loosing the one thing that meant so much to him?

“yeah, i’m fine.” he lied, while minho raised his eyebrows, not fully convinced.

“well, hurry up...bet you’re starving.”

thomas laughed slightly, as minho chuckled too, before walking away to the other gladers. and as soon as minho walked away, thomas buried his head into his hands, as a heavy cry racketed out of his body, causing him to completely break down into sobs.

————

“tell me everything.” newt demanded, as the woman gave him a glass of water, as they both sat across from each other, on the wonky oak table.

she sighed, sipping her drink, before starting.

“the whole city was burning down, because-“

“of the people outside the walls.”

she stopped, “yeah, don’t interrupt me though.”

“sorry.”

“anyway, me and a couple of my friends were running to safety, and then...i saw you, on the floor. dead.”

“wait! stop!” she screamed to her friends, over the loud sounds of gunshots and explosions.

“that’s a-a person.” she shouted, running over to the figure on the ground.

she didn’t bother to see if her friends followed her or not, to bothered at the man with a knife plunged in his chest. she didn’t know him. she’s never seen him in his life. but, a sudden feeling of sorrow overcome her body, causing her to kneel down beside him.

“he’s not worth it.” her friend breathed out, standing just behind her.

“everyone is worth it.”

she heard a sigh, “he’s a crank. he’s far to gone. and we won’t be much better if we stay here, mourning over someone we barely know!”

she shook her head, placing her fingers on his cold neck to try and find a pulse. but failed.

“you’re not a doctor anymore. you can’t save everyone. so let’s go!” her friend shouted, turning to run away.

but, she didn’t follow, still starring at the lifeless eyes of the young boy.

“he probably deserved the world.” she thought, still hoping to feel a pulse. but, it never happened.

breathing out heavily, she was going to stand up, and follow her friends, but froze as she felt a small vibration in her finger. she starred at the boy, who wasn’t moving as the vibrations increased. it was a heartbeat.

“oh my god!” she whispered.

he was alive. but, only just.

and then the boy’s body stirred, as a small groan left his cracked lips. she kneeled beside him, eyes wide at the sight of a person literally coming back from the dead. she’s never seen this happen. never the less with a crank.

“hello? can you hear me?” she asked, hoping the boy would reply. praying he would. even just a little ‘yes.’

and he did. but, he replied with something she would never expect.

with a small hoarse voice he whispered, ‘tommy.’

and passed out again.

————

thomas eventually left his tent, after double checking all signs of him crying were not visible, he followed the smells of frypans cooking. he smiled at people he passed, not knowing half of them, but still felt responsible to do so. he was responsible for everyone’s freedom.

then how come he couldn’t save newt?

walking to the kitchen, he smiled as frypan already handed him a plate of food, that made his mouth water.

he’s not surprised at how hungry he is. he hasn’t eaten in days.

“thanks fry.” he mumbled, while the cook nodded at him sadly.

thomas walked away from the kitchen, walking past his group of friends by the bonfire, to sit on the ground infront of the stone. sitting down, he starred up at the stone glancing at names carved into it. he looked at names he didn’t know, but still felt remorse for them. but, then he saw names he did know.

and it hurt.

chuck. little chuck didn’t deserve to go. they finally escaped the maze. but, he’s not here anymore. he made a promise to chuck. and he broke it.

alby. god. out of everyone from the maze, he was one of the people who truely deserved to be free. he was the first one up after all. and thomas failed him.

winston. he tried to take care of his friends like he promised him in the scorch. he still remembers the sound of the gunshot engulfing him as they walked away from their dying friend.

teresa. he knows what she was trying to do. she was trying to help. she thought she was helping. he never loved teresa. sure they kissed before she fell to her death, but he never loved her.

and then his eyes landed on newt’s.

thomas couldn’t bare to look at his name anymore, as tears blocked his vision.

————

newt looked through one of the the gaps in the wall, after the woman stopped talking a couple of minutes ago. to say he was confused was an understatement. he coughed, glancing at her who was leaning back in her chair, already starring at him.

“how did you save me then? theres no cure.”

“i know,” the girl nodded, “b-but, somehow the knife missed your heart. and as i removed it when you were unconscious, there was someone else’s blood on it? i think that blood saved you. and i’m a doctor, i have erm...resources that can help you.”

“who’s blood was it?”

“i’m not sure.” she looked away, almost seeming nervous suddenly, “but, it seems like whoever’s blood that was, was already on the knife before it-“

“was stabbed into me?” newt finished.

the woman nodded, “yeah.”

and then it hit newt. just out the blue. he remembered.

“i know who’s blood it is.”

she turned to face him, “who?”

“it’s thomas’ blood.” he cringed.

newt remembers when he pierced his skin, just slightly. but, even though he had no control over his actions, he still remembers the amount of guilt he felt as he heard thomas’ pained screams fall from his lips.

he wish thomas never saw him like that. so animalistic and aggressive.

“oh, the person you say in your sleep. what is he your boyfriend or something?”

newt chocked on his water, “what?!”

“you heard me,” she winked, laughing at the stuttering mess infront of her, “well, it seems like your boyfriend is the cure. do you know where he is?”

newt tried not to blush at the word ‘boyfriend’ before replying.

“unless he’s dead, then he’ll be at the safe haven.”

dead? if tommy is dead then...

no, he can’t be dead. h-he shouldn’t think of the worse.

he has to be alive.

“the safe haven?”

“yeah, it’s where everyone goes when they want to be free of wckd and cranks and-“

“i know what it is,” she cut off, standing up with a wide smile of her face, “i’ve been trying to find that for years. i didn’t think it was real!”

“i haven’t been but...i-i assume it’s real. why are you laughing so much?” newt questioned, gesturing the woman laughing her head off that was once harsh to him.

“because newt, we’re going.”

“g-going where?”

“the safe haven you div!” she shouted, clapping her hands together.

“i don’t even know where it is! all i know is that it’s on a beach! do you realise how many beaches there are in the world?! and beside i hardly know anything about you-“

“my name’s kira. and that’s all you need to know about me.” she mumbled, causing newt to gulp.

“o-okay kira, well i have no bloody idea on how to get to it anyway!”

“that’s why we’ll go together.”

newt sighed. he did want to find the safe haven, and be reunited with his friends. he misses them all so much. and it pains him to think that they all believe he’s dead, when he isn’t.

but, he has no idea where it is. for all he knows, the safe haven could of moved away from a beach. like into the mountains. or into a city. newt and kira could just be going on a wild goose chase.

“don’t you want to see all the people you know? like your boyfriend.” she teased, causing newt to roll his eyes.

“he’s not my boyfriend. he’s just a close friend.” he snapped.

kira sat down again, her smile falling into an expression of seriousness.

“newt, you have a second chance of living. if i never found you, you would be dead right now. so, take this opportunity and come with me to find the safe haven. and live the life you are supposed to have. the life what your friends would want you to have.”

newt sat still, taking in her words. she was true. harsh, but true. he does have a second chance of living. and he shouldn’t waste it on thinking of the worse possible scenarios.

“okay.”

“wait really?!”

“yes,” he looked up, smiling, as he was suddenly overcome with a feeling of urgency.

“let’s go and find the safe haven, kira.”

————

a/n- thank you for reading chapter 1! it’s quite short, but hopefully as the story goes on the chapters will be longer :)

————

taglist-

@parkersbliss @liberty-barnes @harry-hollands @lookatallthosefandoms @venjicuddles @a-sarcastic-lil-shit @insonianna

70 notes · View notes

blancheludis · 3 years

Link

@whumptober2021 Day 4: Taken Hostage / Pushed / “Do you trust me?”

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd Tags: Hurt Tim Drake, Kidnapping, Protective Jason Todd, Accidental Brother Acquisition, Jason is Robin Words: 7.826

Summary: “Batman will come for you, right?” Tim only realizes that is the wrong thing to ask when Robin’s face falls.

“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin insists with a stubborn tension in his shoulders. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”

Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.

But Tim agrees anyway. Why wouldn’t he? Robin is a hero. His hero. And he’s lucky they were kidnapped together. Now they only have to get out this cell in one piece.

---

The shove comes out of nowhere.

Tim has gotten good at navigating Gotham’s rooftops nearly blind, a camera pressed to his face. He has also learned to make sure nobody is around to catch him. What he does is not strictly illegal, but he is taking pictures of vigilantes at night and enough people take offence at that. He is not wearing a mask himself, but he still cannot be found out here. His parents are already not happy that he has not given up photography – a mere waste of time that will neither get him into a prestigious college nor bring the Drake name any profits – even without knowing about his nightly activities.

The roof was empty when Tim climbed up on it to get a better angle of Robin. It is a rare enough occurrence that Robin is out alone without the protective shadow of Batman hovering nearby and Tim does not want to miss a minute of it. So, he is crouching on the roof, his camera trained on Robin, when someone appears suddenly next to him and shoves him over the edge.

A sound escapes Tim’s lips, half a gasp due to the force of the unexpected push, and in the brief second he is hovering in the air, he can see Robin look up searchingly – and then he is falling.

Tim has a lot of experience with falling, but he will never get used to that navel-jerking feeling of tumbling into the unknown, those first moments of blind panic at having lost the ground beneath his feet. He clings to his camera, curls like he was taught to, and hopes fervently that he will not break anything. Bruises are easy to hide and something he has dealt with dozens of times before. Broken bones, however, need a bit more than his first-aid kit has to offer – and cause more questions than he cares to answer.

The falling is over as soon as it began. He was not too high up but the impact is still painful. The crack of plastic thunders in his ears and that is what throws his momentum, makes him tense too much as he tries to save his camera, and he feels his ankle bend.

Pain flares up, sudden and hot, before he comes to a panting halt on the pavement, a sharp throbbing in his foot and right side. He just lies there for a long moment, afraid to move his ankle but glad that his lungs still work as they are supposed to. The roof above him is empty. Nobody is looking down after him.

But – Tim did not just fall from nothing, did not trip. Somebody was there and pushed him. Just as he is sitting up, determined to have a look at his camera and then his foot before he gets out of here, he hears footsteps coming closes.

“Well, what do we have here?” a muffled voice asks.

Tim whirls around, but all he can see is a fist flying towards his face. And then nothing.

---

Tim comes to slowly. That in itself is a warning sign that something is wrong. He has a rather conflicted relationship with sleep and he does not slumber. Either he is awake or not. This in-between is strange, making his thoughts all sluggish.

He blinks, his vision curiously blurry, and wonders about the cracks in the ceiling – and then the pain hits. A low, insistent pounding like drum beats fills his head, growing worse with every breath he takes as if the miniscule movement alone is aggravating it.

With a rush, Tim remembers what happened. The rooftop. Being shoved. The cracking of his camera.

He shoots upright, battling the way the room spins before his vision settles. Bile rises in his throat but he swallows carefully, unwilling to give into the panic rising inside him. Perhaps his father’s lessons will have their use, after all.

His ankle throbs, but Tim ignores it for now in order to find out where he is, because this is somewhere inside instead of outside in the streets, and he definitely did not make it home.

The room is small and bare. Cracks run through the grey cement covering the ground and walls and ceiling. There is no window, but a lone light bulb dangles in the middle of the room, offering a bit of light. The ground is stained in places, the origin of which Tim does not want to think too closely about. No furniture, just a heavy metal door and Tim himself being cuddled into a corner.

This is bad. If his father finds out what he was doing, why someone managed to snatch him right off the street – he hopes this is not a play for ransom. His parents are out of the country and the last thing he and his father did before they left were yell at each other. Tim is not at all sure they are willing to pay a single dollar to get him back. And if so, likely only to preserve the family name.

Of course, Tim does not want to think about what other reasons there are for someone to kidnap him. Children go missing from Gotham’s streets every day, and only a few of them are found again. Mostly, they do not have anything to look for them. Tim does not, either.

The pounding in his head grows worse. With some effort, Tim pushes the growing panic down. Before he gives up on himself, he should try to find out more.

Carefully, Tim gets to his feet. The room starts spinning again, which is rather worrying, but it snaps into sudden focus when he puts some weight on his right ankle. A whimper breaks over his lips, echoing hauntingly in the empty room, as he sinks back to the ground.

Don’t be broken, he thinks as he pushes up the leg of his trousers. The ankle is swollen and the pain intensifies when he applies pressure. When he is careful, though, he can move it in every direction and he cannot feel any bones obviously out of place. That does not have to mean anything, he knows. Ever since he started following the masks around, he read up on first-aid, aware of how many things can go wrong. Hopefully it is just a sprain, although that does not make it any less painful, and it might still mess his leg up for good.

Before Tim can convince himself to get back up and try again, he hears a key being shoved in the lock and then the door is yanked open, making a terrible screeching noise that grates in his ears. The light outside is much brighter, stabbing Tim’s eyes so he cannot make out much of anything as he scrambles backwards, trying to get away from whoever has entered the room. Something big is thrown in and then the door slams shut again without explanation.

The something is a person clad in yellow and green and –

“Robin.” Tim’s voice breaks halfway through the name. His mouth is suddenly dry and his thoughts come to an abrupt halt.

This has just become so much worse. Someone did not just push Tim off a roof just because they could or for ransom, but they got Robin, too. Either Robin wanted to help and was overpowered, or they were after him and Tim is just collateral damage. Either way, he is doomed. Because he is not hard to catch, crawling around the city at night to take pictures of vigilantes. But Robin is in an entirely different league.

Robin looks up at him, eyes wide behind the mask, then untangles himself into a more dignified position even though his suit remains rumpled. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

Tim does not know what could possibly be good about that if this is the reality he woke up to.

“What happened?” he hates how weak he sounds, how young. His father would have his hide for that – but his father is not here because Tim had to do something forbidden and get himself caught. He breathes. In and out. In and out.

Robin is here. That means not all is lost. If nothing else is certain, Tim knows that Batman will come for Robin and they will not leave him behind, even if they find out about the pictures. They are the good guys. They might tell his parents about it – which will undoubtedly not end well for him either – but they will not leave him to die in this place.

“These assholes want me to help them out.” Robin makes a rude gesture at the door, then looks a bit sheepish at Tim. “Sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”

A weight drops off Tim’s shoulders. It is not his fault that Robin was caught. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it does not sit right with him, still.

“They went after me first,” Tim says, remembering clearly that Robin was still free and unbothered while Tim was already falling. He might have even gotten it on camera, that last, searching look around at Tim’s yell. But his camera is not here. They might have left it broken on the ground when they took Tim. It is unlikely he will ever see it again.

It is stupid to be bothered by that. It is only a camera and he can afford to buy a new one. But it is the one thing that brings him joy.

“Yeah.” Robin runs a hand through his hair, putting it into complete disarray. “You’re supposed to be my motivation.”

Oh. “They took me hostage to make you help them?” Tim is no stranger to being pulled into other people’s games. His parents’ business partners do that all the time, either hoping to gain something for the company or to get some advantage over his parents. It is almost familiar, to be used for his worth to other people instead on his own merit.

“Seems like it,” Robin says and sounds apologetic. He is also watching Tim very closely as if he expects him to have a breakdown. But Tim has been taught to appear calm even if he feels anything but.

“That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know me.”

Tim should be glad. If all goes well and they do not die here, his parents might never find out what happened. He does not have to tell Robin his last name. He is just a nobody who had bad luck. Once they are out of here, he can just vanish. If they get out of here.

Robin cocks his head to the side, concern crossing his face. “You’re a civilian,” he explains then puffs out his chest and points at his suit. “That’s what this whole thing is about. Protecting people.”

Perhaps people who do not stalk them and take pictures without asking, who do not put themselves in danger constantly just because they are hoping for the right shot.

But Tim believes him anyway. He was raised by a cynic but he knows Robin. Knows him through endless nights of watching him do the right thing, of putting his life on the line for others.

“What do they want you to do?” Tim asks, changing the topic without much finesse.

He is also not sure he wants to know the answer to that. What if they are asking something terrible of Robin, like killing somebody. Tim cannot be the reason for Robin to do that.

But Robin scoffs, caught between amusement and annoyance. “Rob a bank or five.”

That is surprisingly mundane. Banks are robbed every day without the help of vigilantes. Some even successfully. “What do they need you for then?”

To his surprise, Robin pouts. “I could totally rob a bank, and probably better than them, too” he says, entirely missing the point.

Despite their situation, Tim finds himself grinning at Robin’s offended tone. He imagines him as some kind of modern Robin Hood, robbing a bank and then making it rain money right outside of it.

Then he sobers. They are still locked up in some cell and he has a busted ankle and a possible concussion. “Well, you shouldn’t do it.”

Robin’s expression grows serious, too. “They said they’d hurt you if I don’t,” he says in that same tone Tim’s father does when he is testing Tim, fishing for a reaction.

Now it is Tim’s turn to be offended. “You’re Robin,” he exclaims.

Robin nods but does not give an answer. Instead, he leans forwards, seemingly unconcerned with their situation. “What’s your name?”

Tim could lie. He is good at it and it would surely save him a lot of trouble. But it is not every day that one meets their hero and despite the circumstances, he wants this interaction between them to be real.

“Tim,” he says, hesitating long enough to make Robin frown. He still holds his last name back. That does not have a place here, and there is a small chance that Robin knows their next-door neighbours are called Drake and have a son named Tim, even though his life is certainly interesting enough to not bother with who is living down the street.

“Do you trust me, Tim?” Robin asks, his voice gentler now as if he does not want to spook Tim. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

With a start, Tim realizes Robin thinks he is afraid. Well, he is, but for the entirely wrong reasons. They are in a bad situation but it could be so much worse. For one, Tim could be here alone.

He nods because that seems like the thing to do. He is cold and in pain and his hero might be forced to commit a crime to keep him alive. While he is aware of all of that, he can barely touch those thoughts, like his head is underwater but he is seeing lights on the surface, jumping out of reach whenever he reaches for them.

Tim is fine. Beneath the mask, Robin is just a kid, too, and Tim will not make it harder on him by whining. Or panicking. That will not do either of them any good.

“Batman will come for you, right?” It is a mistake to ask, Tim notices that right away when Robin’s shoulders stiffen.

He does not understand. Batman and Robin are a team. They have each other’s back and, of course, one would come running when the other is in danger. Right?

“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin says, crossing his arms in front of him only to let them fall again a moment later.

That certainly puts a crack in Tim’s picture-perfect idea of his favourite vigilantes. He knows better than most that things are seldom as calm and shiny as they appear on the surface, but Batman and Robin – nothing is supposed to taint that.

“I’m sorry,” he says because he is not sure what else to do. His mother taught him that other people’s weaknesses are there to be exploited, but he does not want to be that kind of person.

Robin looks at him, then sighs. “No, you’re right.” He sounds conflicted, making him sound even younger. Like that, he is more human, mask or not, but that is not helpful in the situation they are in. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”

Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.

“I can’t fight,” Tim points out, afraid that he will be the reason Robin gets hurt, after all. He had some training, bullies and his family name made that a necessity, but he is no Robin, no hero.

“You don’t have to,” Robin says, full of conviction. “I’ll protect you.”

Tim wants to ask how but he has learned that too many questions only make things harder, at times. Instead, he offers, “You could pretend to be me.”

He is not sure where it comes from, but a plan is forming in front of his eyes. Tim is a bit smaller than Robin and a lot scrawnier, but people tend to look only at the suit. And they only needed a few moments to jump the kidnappers anyway. As soon as an actual fight begins, the ruse will be up.

“They’ll notice,” Robin scoffs. He does not quite dismiss Tim, but Tim knows that tone very well. It is hard not to let it get to him because some part of him desperately wants to impress Robin, but he has practice with that, too. “And what good would that bring us anyway?”

“We’ll swap clothes,” Tim explains, shamefully eager at the very idea of touching the suit. “They don’t think I’m a danger, so when they come back, they’ll go right for the suit and ignore you. So, you can take them by surprise.”

It is a good plan, or as good as they will likely get. They are locked in a windowless room that does not stop spinning before Tim’s eyes, and only one of them is really capable of getting them out if Robin does not want to wait for Batman – and Tim does not want to either, yearning for some pain meds, an ice pack and his bed. Taking the bad guys by surprise is their only chance, really. Otherwise, they are simply two children sitting in a trap.

“I’m Robin,” Robin insists as if Tim has forgotten that. As if, in addition to taking his clothes, he suggested stripping him of the title as well. “I can’t take off the mask.”

There is that, true. Tim opens his mouth to say Robin can keep the mask, that they will just keep their heads down until it is too late for the kidnappers to realize the wrong boy is in the suit. What falls from his lips instead is, “I know who you are.”

Robin moves quicker than Tim’s probably concussed brain can follow and then he is right in from of Tim, shoving him against the cold, unforgiving wall. The impact knocks the air out of Tim’s lungs and, before he can react, Robin’s arm is pressed against his throat, not quite choking him but a definite threat.

“What did you say?” Robin growls in a clear imitation of Batman, a few decades too young. It still causes a shiver to run down Tim’s back.

“I’m sorry,” he pushes out, only to have Robin increase the pressure. How did things go so wrong so quickly? He just – masks, secret identities. Tim has gotten so comfortable with following them around that he forgot nobody is supposed to know who they are. “I live next door to you,” he blurts out, not caring anymore about keeping his last name secret.

For the first time since waking up in this room, he is afraid instead of just panicked. When he started following Batman and Robin around, he knew he could never let them catch him. They might be the good guys, but they do have their identities to protect, and he has seen countless times what Batman does to the people that cross him. He did not even try to find out who they are. It just made sense.

“I haven’t told anyone,” Tim croaks, growing desperate when Robin does nothing but stare at him, never relenting his hold. “I won’t.”

“How?”

Tim whimpers when Robin shoves him again, aggravating his headache. This is not supposed to happen. He never thought Robin would like him, really, the kid with stalkerish tendencies, but he did not think meeting his hero would go quite like this either.

“I’m running BatWatch.”

That stupid blog that started as a challenge to himself but has quickly become the centre of Tim’s life, uploading pictures and commentary on Gotham’s very own vigilante bats. All complimentary, of course, because they protect the city and certain journalists just do not know what they are writing. Tim just tries to put the Bats back into a more positive light. Sometimes, it makes him feel like a hero in his own right. That is his secret identity.

After a long, tense moment, Robin’s hold loosens, even if he does not take the arm away. His expression is still closed off. “You? The blog has been around for years.”

Tim takes pride in that. It grew from a few blurry pictures every other week to detailed articles. People like to complain about Batman, and Tim just wants to remind people of all the good the vigilantes are doing.

“You’ve been Robin for years,” Tim shoots back, voice still more of a croak from the shock. He is not sure the danger is over.

Robin sits back. His hands are still on Tim but not quite as threatening anymore. That can change again any moment, Tim knows, so he clears his throat and just breathes.

“You know who Batman is and you never told anybody?” The incredulity in Robin’s tone is insulting, but Tim guesses a certain paranoia is part of the job.

“You’re heroes,” Tim exclaims and winces inwardly. That made him sound entirely too young. There is no hiding he is still a kid but he does not have to act immaturely, too.

“And you want me to believe it is a mere coincidence that you were in the right place to be kidnapped along with me?” Robin says, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, which Tim does not fully hear because his mind is stuck on right place. “How do I know you’re not working with them?”

The accusation hurts worse than the shove earlier, although it leaves him just as trapped. “I would never,” Tim says and glares in the best imitation of his mother as he can manage.

Feeling, cornered, he bats Robin’s hands away with what little strength he has left, pain and disappointment having taken their toll. To his surprise, Robin lets him go. He gets up and ignores the way his vision swims and the pain in his ankle flares up. There is nowhere to go. The room is still bare and the door is still locked. But he needs to get away from Robin and his accusations, so he limps to the far corner and sinks rather ungraciously back to the floor.

Somewhere in the depth of his mind, he can hear his father laugh at his naivety. What did he think would happen? That Robin would be impressed? That he would expect a scrawny teenager to be good for anything? He had been dreaming about meeting Robin for years but – well, he should have listened better to what his parents say about dreams.

“You’re hurt,” Robin says, sounding sheepish.

Tim glances over his shoulder and sees that Robin stood up, too, but he thankfully does not come closer. In fact, he looks a bit lost, all suited up with no way to escape.

“It’s nothing,” Tim mutters, looking back at the wall. A crack runs through it right in front of his face. He imagines digging here and finding nothing but more cement. A grave in the middle of the city.

“You were limping.”

What does that have to do with anything? “Just a strain.” And definitely a concussion. He should better not mention that, he is already enough of a liability.

“We can’t get out of here if you can’t walk,” Robin says, sounding almost agitated, but when Tim looks at him it does not show on his face.

So, this is how it is. He knows this game very well. “Then you had better leave me behind. That’s safer anyway if I’m one of them.”

That cutting tone is from his mother. Any other time, he would hate how much of his parents he recognizes in himself, but it does come in handy every now and then. Although it does not bring him any satisfaction to watch Robin flinch. Tim is the faulty one here, the obstacle to overcome. It is better to just take him out of the equation.

He does not want to be left behind, of course. Chances are low that the kidnappers will simply let him go when they do not need him anymore. And he has no particular desire to find out where Gotham’s lost children end up.

“I’m – I won’t leave you here.” Robin has come closer, looking down at Tim with a seriousness that hurts.

Tim smiles, but it feels all wrong, hollow yet sharp at the edges. It should not surprise him that he does not measure up. Just because he looks up to Robin does not mean that Robin will find anything worthwhile when looking back. Something about him always turns people away, he is never quite enough.

“They won’t need me once you’re gone,” Tim points out and does not say that he is very aware that this will likely end with a bullet in his head. It is not like he can change that. He is tired and, for once, wants nothing more than to go home – without putting Robin in more danger.

Silence stretches between them for a long moment in which Tim thinks he really is doomed. Then Robin says, “Come,” his jaw set with new determination. “I’ll need your clothes.”

Tim does not move, even as Robin begins to take off the suit, no trace of hesitation left in his movements. In the privacy of his mind, Tim has longed for years to wear the Robin colours. But not like this, not here, not when the real Robin has already made his judgement of Tim.

“What about the mask?” Tim asks quietly, intent on reminding Robin what a stupid idea this is.

“I can’t let them see my face, so I’ll keep it on,” Robin says matter-of-factly, as if this very problem did not end in a physical altercation only minutes before. “But you can stay with your back to the door and I’ll jump them before they can notice anything.”

That is what Tim thought they should do earlier, but now he is full of doubt. Turning his back to the door alone fills him with uneasiness. He might not be a fighter, but it feels wrong to serve himself on a silver platter, too. And, since Tim is the hostage in this scenario, what if they do not go for Robin, which would squander their element of surprise. What if Robin will not be able to deal with whoever is coming for them? What if there are too many opponents? What if –

“Hey.” Suddenly, Robin is right in front of Tim, one hand on Tim’s shoulder and blatant concern on his face. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

Tim takes a deep breath, concentrates on the ground beneath him and the warmth from Robin’s hand and even the way his ankle throbs. The situation is not ideal, but he is alive and mostly intact. He is not alone.

He believes Robin. What would life be if he could not trust his hero anymore? Robin helps people. It is his job.

But Tim has been following Batman and Robin around for a bit too long. He has seen them share street food during long patrols. He has watched Robin jump around in circles around Batman when bored and limp home after a bad fight. Beneath the mask, Tim knows very well, is just a boy not much older than him. Jason Todd, child of Gotham’s darkest streets, full of foul words and endless bravado.

This is not a heroic story. Tim is not behind the camera taking pictures. He is not a bystander, sequestered safely away on a rooftop. This is real. And Tim might have dreamt of himself as Robin – or at least as Robin’s sidekick – but not like this. He is acutely aware of how inadequate he is.

And yet, Tim nods. If he knows anything, it is how to pretend, how to keep his head held high. His hands, when he unzips his jacket, are shaking. If Robin notices, he does not comment on it. That makes it easier, if only slightly.

It is hard not to stare as the Robin suit lands piece by piece on the ground, rumpled and nearly unassuming, just flimsy looking material in too bright colours. The shaking gets worse as Tim reaches for it, but he does not allow himself to hesitate. It is now or never.

The suit does not quite fit. Tim is too small and too scrawny. Worse is the way his skin burns, touching something forbidden. He guesses he will not have those dreams of being Robin anymore, considering how miserable he feels while pretending for even just a moment.

“You look good,” Rob- Jason says. Because in Tim’s clothes he looks altogether too young, just another boy stranded in a bad situation. Tim cannot detect any condescension in his tone.

Still, Tim scoffs and avoids looking down at himself. “Let’s hope it fools them.”

He would be surprised if it does. He certainly feels like a bad impostor, radiating his uneasiness for everybody to pick up.

Robin opens his mouth, doubtlessly to tell Tim some more reassuring lies, but Tim turns away, effectively cutting him off. He just wants to get this over with.

He lies down on the ground, trying for a posture that is not too conspicuous while still allowing Jason to blend into the background. Even though all his instincts scream that it is wrong, he turns his back to the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jason put his hood up and mess up his hair until his face is shrouded in shadows and the mask is not so obvious anymore.

And then, they wait.

Or, rather Tim plans to wait. Jason apparently does not deal too well with silences because he first shifts around impatiently, then huffs. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Hey, Tim –”

“I’m fine,” Tim cuts him off. This is his one-in-a-lifetime chance of being cooped up with Robin, but talking did not turn out too well before, and he would rather not make things worse. “You don’t need to keep asking.”

It is also not a lie. The pain in both his ankle and his head have dulled to a low throbbing and the panic is under control. He is aware this will change once they are moving again, but for now everything is all right.

Jason hums, clearly not believing him, but then he says, “Actually, I wanted to know why you never said anything.”

Tim closes his eyes briefly. “About what?”

“Who we are. If you knew all this time.” Of course, Jason will not let this go. Perhaps he has a right to, considering how carefully Batman has hidden his identity all these years.

“It’s a secret.” Tim cranes his neck to stare at Jason. He admires Robin and would never endanger him like that. But if Jason is still not fully convinced Tim is not working with the enemy here, his doubt should be expected.

But then Jason asks, “Why didn’t you talk to us?” His tone is way too innocent for such a loaded question.

Tim is silent for a long moment. The truth would be that he did not want anyone to stop him from going out at night, but he can hardly say that. Jason Todd might understand the lack of parental supervision that lets Tim do as he pleases, but as Robin, he might ask questions that Tim really does not want to answer. And Batman surely would not let that stand. He is happy with things as they are. Getting a glimpse of all the excitement from afar is enough.

He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “You have better things to do.” Better than indulging Tim’s stupid dreams.

He feels Jason’s stare on his back but does not look up again. “Well, what if someone kidnapped you and made you tell them?”

The veiled accusation sits like hot coals in Tim’s stomach. He wants to snap back, say that nobody would kidnap him. But the very fact that he is sitting in a locked room with Robin right at this moment makes that argument void.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says when Tim does not answer. He should not apologize when he is right.

Footsteps come closer, effectively cutting their conversation off. Saved by the very real possibility of being killed, Tim thinks and tries to relax his tense muscles.

The door opens with the same screeching protest as before and Tim feels woefully unprepared. All he has to do is lie here and let the real Robin do the work and yet his hands start shaking again.

“Have you thought about our offer, little birdie?” a voice asks, sounding too close for comfort already. “Or do we need to make the kid scream?”

Don’t go to Jason, Tim thinks fervently, even as he forces himself to keep his face turned away. The entire game will be up before they can even make the first move if they recognize him.

There is another set of footsteps, perhaps two, but Tim cannot look up. He has to give Jason the chance to get them out.

“Ignoring us won’t –” The man cuts off with a grunt and Tim looks up just in time to see him doubling over while Jason whirls around him, using his leg as a ladder to jump up and kick at the second guy before punching the first in the temple with his elbow. The man goes down like someone cut his strings.

All Tim can do is try to not get crushed and watch as Jason never loses momentum but makes short work of the other two men. It is over so quickly that Tim is left with too much adrenaline in the sudden silence, his heart beating as loud as a war drum and his hands balled into fists he thankfully did not have to use.

“Yes,” Jason exclaims. His grin is very much out of place but Tim still finds himself answering in kind. He did not even do anything and yet he feels victorious. “The credit goes to you, of course, since it was your idea.”

Tim wants to say that they are not yet out of here, but his face heats up and he lets his eyes drop. Looking at the unconscious men is better than to meet Jason’s undeserved praise.

“I mean it, Tim,” Jason adds, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You were already thinking up plans while I wasted time on being angry. You kept a cool head. Not everybody could.”

The warmth from Jason’s hand and words spreads right into Tim’s core. They should not just stand around but get going but Tim cannot help himself. He does not get compliments like this, barely does anything worth noticing. Even ignoring the whole kidnapping, this is a night he will never forget.

“We should make sure they won’t be able to follow us,” Tim says, still feeling the glow in his cheeks. “And we should probably change clothes again.” Silently, he prays Jason will agree that there is no time for that. Even just pretending, the suit is a comfort now that they survived the first hurdle of getting out of here.

“Let’s stay like this. The colour suits you.” Jason winks but gets serious a moment later. He leans forward and fishes two pairs of handcuffs out of a pocket of the suit. “Put these on two of them. I’ll take care of the third.”

It is strange to move the unconscious bodies, even though they are definitely breathing. There is not even blood. Tim hurries to finish the task and then watches Jason string up the last guy with his own shoelaces.

“Ready to go?” Jason asks as he gets to his feet, looking strangely energetic for someone in their position. “I think I know the way out, so follow after me. We’ll try to avoid running into any more of these idiots.”

So, there are more. Their victory quickly turns sour at this reminder that they have not yet escaped. But Tim nods. He is very much out of his depth and really, really glad he is not alone.

At the door, Jason pauses again. “Will you be okay with your ankle?” Concern passes over his face and he looks Tim up and down as if he considers carrying him.

“I’m fine,” Tim says quickly. He will not slow them down and he will not make this harder on Jason. It is bad enough that he had to be rescued.

When Jason turns away, thankfully believing him, Tim takes a probing step. His ankle hurts and he knows it will only get worse from here on out. But he stands by his word. He will manage. Once he is safely at home, he can put some ice on it and recover. And home is so much more within reach now.

Jason hurries ahead, light-footed and with the easy elegance of a fighter. Following after him, Tim feels clumsy and loud. He closes the door to their cell and then looks cautiously down the hall. It looks identical on both sides but Jason never hesitates over which way to choose. That has to be enough.

They make it out without issue. Tim’s chest hurts as if he held his breath the entire time until they finally step out into the night air. He breathes and feels a smile spread on his face. They did it.

Jason touches his elbow briefly, motioning him to keep walking. Of course, they are not out of danger yet. So, Tim follows, down dark streets then up to the roofs. It is different to walk Gotham next to Robin, even if Tim is still the one wearing the suit. It feels like nothing in this city can touch them.

The throbbing in his ankle has turned into a constant burning. He does not say anything, though. It is still manageable and they are not yet safe. Still, he is glad when Jason is finally content with how far they have come and signals Tim to stop.

“How’s the foot?” Jason asks and reaches out for it almost as soon as they are sitting down.

Out of instinct, Tim withdraws. He is not used to being coddled, so they do not need to start now. “It’s fine.” At Jason’s blatantly unbelieving look, he adds, “I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be right as rain.”

Jason clearly does not like that. “We should do an x-ray, just to be sure.”

“No hospitals,” Tim refuses immediately, the vehemence in his voice biting. If his parents find out about this they will never again let him set a single foot out their house unchaperoned.

And since they got out without anybody learning who Tim is, chances are good that he can keep this entire night secret. His parents will likely not come back before his ankle is healed, and even so he could lie to them. A sudden hospital visit, on the odder hand, is not so easily explained away.

Jason narrows his eyes but wisely does not decide to ask about the hidden implication. “We’ve got all we need at home.”

With home Jason means the manor. Bruce Wayne’s manor. Or even the rumoured Batcave.

“I can’t go home with you.” The mere thought has his brain sputtering to a halt. He needs to go to his own house, sort out his ankle and concussion, and then probably look for something else to take photos of. Batman cannot be made aware that he has a stalker, especially not a kid running around rooftops at night. “And you can’t tell anybody about me.”

He is not making a very good case for himself here, Tim realizes, feeding into Jason’s suspicions about him.

“I feel like that’s my line.” With a pointed look, Jason asks, “Is anybody even waiting for you at home?”

Tim hates the way his shoulders straighten automatically. Jason has no reason to suspect that his home life is anything but orderly and normal. Apart from him being out alone at night. Plenty of children do that, certainly, sneaking out of their window with no one being the wiser. They would not want their parents to find out. Nothing here indicates that Tim’s parents are away from home more often than they actually sleep in their own beds or that Tim has been managing his own life without anybody’s input for years. Nothing indicates that, one of these days, Tim’s father will run out of patience and beat some sense into him instead of just shouting and throwing things, or that his mother’s disappointment in him will simply grow too much to bear and she will not come home at all anymore.

Tim plasters a smile on his face and rolls his eyes. The effort is wasted, certainly, but appearances must be upheld. “I very much hope they’re not waiting because then they’d know I snuck out.” If he times it right, he will even miss the housekeeper who’s coming in the next day, and then he will have all the time in the world to sort himself out.

Jason does not believe him. He stares at Tim, looking suddenly much older than his years. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “How do you do this, Alfred?”, but Tim does not know who Alfred is or what he has to do with this, so he ignores it.

Finally, Jason nods, even if he does not look happy about it. “I’ll bring you home.”

Tim already told him that he is living next door, but that does not mean he wants Jason to come. “You can’t –”

But Jason shakes his head, interrupting him. “I’ll drop you off outside your door, then we’ll exchange numbers. And you will call me if you need anything.” It sounds like a threat more than an offer of help.

Tim should be elated. He has met his hero, got out of their adventure together more or less intact, and he gets Robin’s number out of it, even if he already knows he will never use it. He also got to wear the Robin suit, no matter the reason.

“We should change our clothes,” Tim says because he will not be tricked into going to the Wayne house after all because they put this off.

He realizes his caution was right when Jason starts grinning. “Oh, no,” he exclaims far too happily. “You will keep that on and I’ll pick it up tomorrow when I check in on you.”

Check in – the only person checking in on Tim is the housekeeper, who is paid handsomely for it and for not telling anybody that Tim’s parents are constantly out of the country. “You don’t need to check in on me,” Tim says, barely able to comprehend the concept. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He is. Or he will be if only people stopped putting their noses into his business.

“It’s non-negotiable, Tim” Jason says and cocks his head. “Now, do you want to stay stubborn and let me carry you or can I call someone to drive us?”

Neither of these, Tim thinks. Especially because the only one Jason would call that Tim can think of is Batman. Then again, Jason did not sound so eager to have Batman come for them, earlier, so perhaps that is an empty threat.

“You don’t have to carry me,” Tim says pointedly but does not make a move to get up. He will when they get going again. Until then, he is happy to rest.

Jason clicks his tongue. “I’m not going to let you limp,” he says as if that is the worst thing that happened this night. “And to stop your next argument, they guy who’ll pick us up knows all about the suit.”

So, not Batman? But it does not matter. He is fine, and he really cannot have anyone else see him and find out about this night. “I can –”

“Listen, Tim,” Jason cuts him off and puts that damned hand back on Tim’s shoulder as if he knows how grounding that is. “I’m not the motherly type. That’s what we’ve got Dick for. But this was a stressful night and you’re hurt. Let me please make sure that you get home in one piece.”

He sounds earnest, but also like he is reaching the end of the rope. And Tim does not want that. It was a stressful night. “Fine.” If he is honest with himself, giving in is a relief because he really does not want to get back to his feet and his vision is still swimming, although he better not even hint at that if he wants to get Jason off his back. If he is that concerned about a busted ankle, he will definitely not let Tim out of sight if he learns about the possible – definite – concussion.

“Great, I knew you’d see reason.” Jason claps his hands and gets to his feet, seemingly not at all tired. “Now, let me make a call and then you can give me your number.”

Tim hums and leans back, desperate to just rest his eyes for a moment. His heart is still beating too quickly, not yet reassured that the danger is over. He listens to Jason talk on the phone and then to him telling some stories about too big manors with perfect banisters. Tim wishes he could take a picture of this moment, the two of them on this roof, but his camera was lost somewhere in that basement or on the way there. He will grieve for it tomorrow. Right now, he is just glad that he is alive, happy to let Jason talk and bask in the surrealism of this night.

Perhaps he dreamt this whole thing up. Exhaustion might have caught up with him and he slipped at home, hit his head. Perhaps – but then Jason nudges him awake and says, “Alfie’s here.”

They climb down the roof and into a car and the old man who introduces himself as Alfred has the warmest concerned expression that Tim has ever seen.

No, he decides, this was real. He is in the Robin suit and tomorrow Jason will visit him and pretend to believe whatever lies Tim will make up about his parents. Swimming in the exhausted void left behind by too much adrenaline, Tim grins at Jason, carefree and just happy to be alive. With a conspiratorial glint in his eyes, Jason grins back.

Yes, very much real.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #do you trust me?#batman #fanfiction #tim drake #jason todd #jason is robin #hurt tim drake #My writing

10 notes · View notes