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matrixxsystem · 13 days

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Terrapin Soup Chapter 1

This is my story on Ao3 ^^ He'd been putting this feeling off as long as possible. He tried everything he could think of to get these sort of thoughts to stop. But a childhood accident in where he tasted the blood of his brother made something in his mind change, like a switch he couldn't turn off despite his best efforts.

He craved it.

No matter how much food he ate or drinks he drank it was never enough to make that hunger go away. Eventually. When Leo was 12 he caved to those urges, one episode when everyone had been stressed and just one poorly placed word from snapping, he lashed out during training. The rest of his family knew he was a biter, in a playful manner of course, they all fought dirty when rough housing with each other it's just how brothers are. They'd all been playing, and the oldest Raphael was always one to push his brothers wanting them to push themselves even in a nonconsequential game. But after a week of bad luck Leo couldn't hold back like he'd been these past few years since the hunger started.

He bit his brother.

And not just a playful bite either, teeth piercing flesh and a scream of pain that echoed throughout the city.. Of course as soon as he came back to his senses he regretted it, he cried and cried trying to fix his mistake. And his brother easily forgave him, he always did. But the guilt never went away, even in the present when he glanced to his brother and saw the dents in his arm where small teeth had punctured he felt his heart sink.. And yet, when he remembers the taste.. The hunger only gets stronger.

He tried everything to get that feeling to go away, weather it was eating till he threw up, sleeping as long as allowed, hitting himself any time the thoughts came back, training till he ached, eating uncooked meat to imitate the feeling, which of course getting sick from. Eventually he even tried biting himself. And though it hurt like hell it seemed that drawing blood was the only thing able to satiate his hunger, if only for a little while. He couldn't tell his brothers, there was no way to explain this in a way that wouldn't end with him being quarantined somehow or being kept from his brothers and isolated further. But something about tearing flesh from meat filled his head with a sort of high that made everything else fade away.

The first few nights Leo had been going out to try and take him mind off his thoughts, something he started doing more and more often to avoid his brothers asking questions. He found himself online, using his phone to scroll though media sites where people could ask things anonymously and receive advice from others. He didn't want to admit anything with his name tied to it, but this seemed like a good way to test the waters. No one else had posted what he was thinking but there were lots of things similar or equally concerning at least. So he made his account and sent out his one and only post;

hcr/ Intrusive Thoughts Etc

NotoriouslyPrimary420 Asks;

Do you ever just.. I mean I know this is exactly the place to ask "Do you ever think (insert unthinkable things)" But I still feel weird asking. To be blunt, cannibalism has been on my mind. And yeah I know its bad or whatever, and I wouldn't ever go hurt anyone or anything like that, and I know its not exactly normal either. But like, you ever just.. Want to? I had an incident when I was younger and much more feral then I am now where I kind of snapped for a second when I was play fighting with my siblings. Like some kind of instinct took over that wasn't really me and I bit the absolute shit outta one of them. Now I felt bad of course, and I didn't try to take their arm off or like actively eat em, again, I'm not crazy here. But that kinda feeling that made me wanna bite them hasn't gone away and its been years-

I love my family, more then anything! They'd never hurt me like that and I'd never willingly hurt them, and it was never held over me that I lost it that one time. They were never mad at me or anything and I knew what I did was wrong so it's not some kind anger towards them, but its not for anyone else. It's just for people like me. Which.. It's really hard to explain what "like me" means in the context but like, I have a very certain trait that defines me, and this feeling I get only really applies to those who are the same in that very specific way, I've never looked at a stranger and wondered how they tasted the way I do with people like me. And I've been trying everything over these past few years to get the feeling gone, I mean I've gotten sick so many times because I tried eating things I shouldn't that I thought might help, like raw stuff and just eating till I couldn't anymore (which I've stopped cause obviously it didn't help) And eventually I got to a point where I was hurting myself because that seemed to be the only thing that made those urges go away. But they still came back!!

Even more recently I found something that helps more, but its.. Unethical? To say the least, its not something I'm exactly proud of but its not hard drugs and no one has to know. My family has no clue cause I think they'd be scared if they knew I had these feelings, and it's not like they could help me. If anything they'd only start keeping their distance probably afraid I might snap and do something.. And honestly, I'm scared of that possibility too. But I can't do anything about it! Again, I'm not gonna go hurt anyone or do anything illegal, I'm not a bad person. I just.. Don't know why I'm like this. Any advice that doesn't revolve around "seeing a doctor" would seriously help.

It wasn't till the next night he brought himself to check what kind of responses he might've gotten. And to his surprise it was a lot of kindness towards his situation, no one seemed upset with him but rather reassured him that as long as he didn't act on those urges it was fine to have them. That people of all kinds struggled with things like that. He had a few messages too, but he was still surprised to see that no one had decided to reprimand him for his honestly. There was one however the caught his eye.. Someone who seemed to share his thoughts. That spoke of a troubledchildhood being taken in by just someone they called their "teacher" and his methods of training were well.. Drastic. They didn't go into detail but from how it sounded Leo could tell he'd done things he wasn't proud of either..

As those days turned to months then soon years the wraps on his limbs, that he demanded stay on at all times, got longer and longer until they stretched from his wrists to his shoulders to cover the self awarded marks. One particular night, he left the lair, sitting on a roof far off towards the other end of the city. Just so he was out of range from his brothers internet tracking tech so he could find something, anything, to help him get rid of these pangs. And he did, finally, it was his last hope to save face, and more importantly his sanity. A noodle bar not far in Chinatown that served what could be considered.. Unappetizing to others. And just his luck, they were open late. He quickly gathered his disguise and went on his way. Praying this would be enough. He touched down in an ally not long after, now in the center of Chinatown. The friend he'd met online still talked to him, usually when he went out to clear his head, which was nearly every night now, he found himself talking about his day and listening to his friend about theirs. And over time slowly opened up to each other about their thoughts and feelings, the ones they felt couldn't be shared with others.

He glanced to his phone and hesitantly stepped out. As he thought, no one paid attention to him. He made his way to the ramen shop as his phone directed him, lifting the hanging fabric to go in and take a seat at the counter. No one else was sitting there which he was thankful for. An older man behind the counter looked at him for a moment before shrugging and handing him a menu. "You're out late aren't you? Most young men your age should be in bed for school tomorrow!" He chuckled and turned back to continue his clean up, hoping to have a friendly chat. Leo tapped the counter getting his attention, and pointed to his choice. The man raised an eyebrow leaning over to read what he picked. "Not much of a talker eh? That's alright, I've enough words for the both of us haha. Ohh terrapin soup eh? That's a good one! I use my family's recipe for it you know? It's an acquired taste for sure but once you try it you'll always come back for more!" Leo tapped the counter again, placing money down after, enough for the meal and a small tip. The man made another face but just nodded and took the money. "Alright alright, why the stoic silence hm? You act like you're trying to hide from someone, like in one of those old Yip Man movies haha" He turned his back to Leo and within a few minutes turned back with a full bowl. Leo hesitated for a moment as he watched the smoke rise, was he really about to do this..? He couldn't just bite himself forever.. Or risk snapping again and hurting one of his brothers...

He had to.

He took a breath as he raised the spoon to his mouth, trying to quiet the voice inside his head screaming that this was wrong, and took the bite. At first it just sat there, nearly burning the roof of his mouth, but he wasn't about to waste it. He finally managed to suppress all the muscles fighting back and bit down.

Something clicked in his mind as he felt the first bite hit his stomach, like the warmth of your parents making you hot chocolate on a freezing winter day and feeling that spreading to the end of every nerve, to the tips of your limbs and sending a familiar rush of calm straight to your head almost like a high. Like going all day without water then taking that first sip that brings you back to life, it was finally being able to breathe after being out of breath your whole life. Or finally seeing the colors after years of a world in grey.

For the first time in years, he felt normal, no immense weight in his chest or anxiety vibrating in his hands begging him to do something he knew he couldn't. Just peace and quiet. It didn't take long for him to down the rest of his meal, and when he did he tapped the counter again for attention and signed a 'thank you' to the man. He didn't want to speak and have his voice be something to recognize. He took a pen from its holder and wrote "I'll be back this time next month." and slid it to him with another small tip. The man just smiled and nodded taking the paper and pocketing the money. "Of course, I'll see you then" It was pretty common knowledge that turtle meat wasn't exactly legal in the US, it was a moral grey area and sure buying and selling it weren't allowed but who's to say he knew what he was getting? And who's to say what that tip was for? No one, that's who. He got home using his portal swords, having told his brothers he was going for a walk, and would be back sometime later that night. He made some excuse for himself, along the lines of, "I made a friend the other day, in the.. Mystic hidden city, and we're gonna hang out tonight so don't wait up for me!" He seemed a bit.. On edge before leaving, Mikey of course told the other brothers as they were sitting around that he thought Leo was on a date. What else could make him so nervous? The others at first didn't agree but once Mikey explained how he'd been seeing Leo act more and more strange, that his mind had clearly been elsewhere lately.. It was very possible he met someone.

After that night when he came home, it was the happiest his family had seen him in months! And once a month, like clockwork Leo would sneak out, stay out for most of the night. Then come home the next morning like nothing happened. His brothers decided not to mention it, but after a full year of his nightly escapades they couldn't just ignore it anymore, if he was seeing someone they wanted to know! And wanted to meet whoever it was. They never thought to follow him, since he always portal-ed away not long after heading out, but the next time Leo went out Donnie had an idea. It wasn't right to snoop, but they waited for Leo to bring it up for months! And he hadn't said a single word about it other then he was gonna go see his 'friend' but only left it at that! No one just goes to see a nameless faceless 'friend' once a month for the whole night for over a year! They tried asking him about it too but he wouldn't say anything, or tell them what him and his friend did that night. But none of their friends around had seen him either, he wasn't going to get pizza or talking to April about it, even when they asked the Hidden City's Police to keep an eye out for him they never reported back, it was as if he just vanished for a night, and as excited as they were for Leo to be happy, it worried them that they had no idea what was really going on.. Part 2

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lastwave · 2 years

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do all the asks for dnd renfield i double dare you

DARE TAKEN.

1: How did you come up with your OCs name?

tha dracula special interest

2: Does your OC have a theme?

OH I JUST TALKED ABT THIS!! we decided that this piano of sigmas theme is very him

3: What is their Class?

SOULKNIFE ROGUE. he was going to be a college of whispers bard but then his charisma needed to be shit. also soulknife is cooler and directly tied to the dracula curse (haven't figured out the exact details)

4: What is their Race?

human. lol

5: Are they from a Module or a Homebrew?

the Heckna! module :)

6: What TTRPG are they from? (D&D, VTM, or something else?)

D&D!

7: Have you gotten to actively play them/introduce them to the story yet?

ive rped as him so ya!

8: What do they look like? (Do you have art of them? Are you open to fan art?)

ohh ok ok. so u know my dracula renfield design? that but he has multiple outfits and he dyes one half of his hair brown because he has trouble coming to terms with the fact hes old LOL

9: What is their personality like?

answered this bad boy

10: What’s their relationship with their parents like?

oughhhh god. ok. he has very mixed feelings on his birth parents. they did what was best to keep him safe as a kid but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt (see iliveinprocrastination's ask abt number 11 for context). he has had a lot of parental and mentorial figures in his life tho and i think he loves all of them. and misses them very deeply

11: Where did they grow up? Do they miss it? Would they ever go back if they could?

answered this one<3

12: Did they have any backstory adventures before joining the party? If not, what were they doing before they were introduced?

ehhhhhh? they werent really adventures but he did have an eventful life pre campaign due to being a traveling act (escape artist & contortionist)

13: What is their alignment? What would THEY say their alignment is? Does it matter to them?

answered this bad boy too

14: Are there any secrets to their backstory you know, but they don’t know yet? (Secret parentage perhaps?)

not that i know of. unless the dm has plans i dont know abt

15: Do they have a favorite food?

onion soup 👍

16: Least favorite food?

gooseberries

17: What means the most to them? (Not a person)

BAILEY HIS MEXICAN REDLEG TARANTULA FRIEND

18: Who means the most to them?

hrm. thats a good question. i dont know<3 out of living people probably elaine? first long-ish friendship in a WHILE.

19: Do they hate anything? (Not a person)

gooey textures ?

20: Do they hate anyone?

dracula LOL. he Will hate heckna later but he hasnt gotten there yet

21: Are they currently in a romance? (NPC or PC)

this man is ace/aro (probably more greyromantic but yanno. under the umbrella) so no

22: Do they have any romance in their backstory? If it ended, how did it end?

midlife crisis where he tried to convince himself he enjoyed dating and hookups

23: Do they have a favorite school of magic?

he does not know that humans can do magic yet

24: Least favorite school of magic?

see above

25: Have they ever lost someone important to them?

yea. sorry for putting u in the blender old man its for the themes and motifs and plot

26: If you had the choice, would you rather they have a happy ending, a bittersweet ending, or a tragic ending?

HAPPY. LET HIM REST MY GOD.

27: Are they a liar? Do they lie to the party, or only to others? Do they usually think they have a good reason?

liar is a strong word. he will if he feels its in his vested interest in survival to. hes not a good liar, but hes very good at avoiding truths.

28: What’s the worst thing they’ve ever done? How do they feel about it?

he used to be like. really mean when he was younger in the whole. scaring people department. he probably did a pretty mean spirited joke on someone that didn't end well. i think he feels bad about it.

29: What’s the best thing they’ve ever done? How do they feel about it?

oughhhhh u know? whatever good hes done for other people i dont think he recognizes it because for the longest time he was never able to see the results. im gonna have to think abt this one

30: Who is their favorite NPC? Or PC if they’re an NPC?

bailey counts as an npc right

31: Least favorite NPC? Or PC if they’re an NPC?

unknown at the moment but it will prooobably be heckna

32: If they suddenly lost their class and had to pick a new one, what would they choose? What would YOU choose for them?

he would choose ranger probably. id choose abberrant mind sorcerer because it fucks

33: If they played the TTRPG they’re from, what would they play as?

FIRBOLG CIRCLE OF DREAMS DRUID NAMED FREYA W/ THE FEYLOST BACKGROUND

34: What is their biggest flaw?

answered this and the next one

35: What do they think their biggest flaw is?

see above

36: What is the best thing about them?

he cares a lot for the people around him. he doesn't make it known verbally but u can tell by his actions

37: What do they think the best thing about them is?

he thinks hes soooo funny

38: What would happen if they suddenly appeared on Earth?

he would simply go back to sleep because it would be a dream 2 him

39: If they suddenly appeared on Earth, what time period would you place them in? What location? Why?

victorian era london. puts him back in his habitat

skipping 40 because idk ❤️

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years

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The Soup Incident [Episode 22]

Random Jin Guy: hey u know ur sister

WWX: everyone's mom? best person in the world? beset by terminal heterosexuality? rings a bell

LWJ: i'm sure this is more important than a war

Random Jin Guy: something happened with j

WWX: [overrunning other line] I MUST GO MY MEDDLING IS REQUIRED

Random Nie Guy: oop there he go

LWJ: wow this sounds serious

WWX: what horrors will i find what trauma will this compound what cruelty will i be met with also how did i know exactly where to go

WWX: OH. YOU.

JZX: gross

JYL: oh an audience perfect i'm sure this will de-escalate things

WWX: can we solve this with castration? tell me we can

JYL: no thanks i'd still like the option if it's all the same to u

WWX: it's not let me remove his body parts

JZX: like i'd let u near me u classless hellion

JYL: listen life hasn't been like the greatest lately had a lot of shitty carriage rides i'd like things to chill out and by things i mean namely u in this moment can we go now pls i have an appointment to cry into my pillow that i'm missing

WWX: omg noooo i'll behave i'm here to support u i'll be impartial

JYL: i don't believe that for a single second tho hun

WWX: impartial to how mUCH BLOOD I'M GONNA GET EVERYWHERE HOW IS IT EVERY TIME I SEE UR STUPID FACE I HATE U MORE fuck u u piece o shit

JYL: and there it is

JZX: [angry sleeve flap of disdainful eloquence]

WWX: wtf

JYL: yeah he's good at those

JYL: honey ur not helping urself here he beat the shit out of u BEFORE he marinated in dark energy for 3 months pls use ur words and ur brain

WWX: WAT DID UR SLEEVE SAY TO ME BITCH

JYL: can we just go pls i like to not be reminded of exactly how much stupid i willingly allow into my life

WWX: but shijie M U R D E R

JYL: inexplicably i still want to marry him so no thank u

JZX: oh look mianmian's here

MM: u fuckin bet i am u dipshit

WWX: wtaf is wrong with him

MM: ok listen LISTEN i know i feel u trust me

JZX: time to return to the arrogance corner

WWX: UR YOUNG MASTER'S A BITCH

JYL: a-xian n o

MM: no he totally is u right

JYL: well then he's MY bitch :(

MM: why do i bother to stay up late to practice conversations with u if u don't bother to try all that time wasted am i supposed to cover for u now?

JZX: bold of u to assume u can but go for it still don't know why tf ur all here just wanna eat my soup

WWX: HEY I HAVE A FUN GAME IT'S CALLED HOW MUCH OF CHENQING CAN WE FIT INTO JIN ZIXUAN quick someone pick an orifice

JYL: gross

MM: tempting

LWJ: oh hey i'm here now i walk slow oh shit the nice jiang is crying who would hurt the nice jiang?

MM: ok so u know how ur sister makes soup?

JYL: i never really stop it's a little pathological at this point maybe i should talk to someone...

LWJ: oh more heterosexual antics wei ying's achilles heel best wait outside thank god Xichen is mostly functional and gay as the day is long

MM: so she makes soup right? 2 goes to you chuckleheads and the third goes to emporer perpetual foot-in-mouth over here

JZX: [buffering]

MM: jfc why do i even try

WWX: DID HE INSULT UR S O U P ?!

JYL: sorta i am soup and soup is me

MM: so anyway

JZX: [overrunning previous line] HOLD UP I THOUGHT RANDOM SERVANT NUMBER 62 BROUGHT ME THE SOUP THAT'S NATIVE TO YUNGMENG WHERE MY EX-FIANCE GREW UP

WWX: ur in love with an idiot

JYL: i'm in love with an idiot

MM: I STG UR HEAD IS FILLED WITH JUST HAIRBALLS AND LINT HOW ARE U STILL BREATHING

MM: SHE MAKES SOUP. SHE'S THE SOUP LADY. ASK PEOPLE WHAT THEY THINK OF WHEN U SAY YANLI AND THEY'LL SAY KINDNESS. A N D S O U P . and her murder-brothers but that's not the point rn

JZX: ...u made me soup

MM: i'm so fucking sorry pls marry him i need a competent woman to hang around with i'm getting dumber by the day

WWX: seriously this guy u love this guy?

JYL: xianxian pls romantic idiocy runs in our family it's practically traditional

JYL: i mean...yes i have 2 coping mechanisms; soup and crying neither of them are working rn tho help i don't unlock righteous fury until level 25

JZX: wow she made me soup

WWX: of course she made u soup u human inner-thigh chafe show us the flashback mianmian

MM: [off screen] oh yeah that roll the tape jeeves

[ENTER FLASHBACK]

JYL: i made u soup bb

JZX: ur not servant number 62 go fuck urself

JYL: wut

[END FLASHBACK]

WWX: NO FURTHER QUESTIONS UR HONOR

Random Jin Guy Who Brought Wuxian: perhaps this was a [cursive writing] Mistake™

JZX: ouchie i can twirly fight countless puppets can't dodge a punch of the life of me cultivation jesus that's gonna leave a mark

JYL: GOD I WISH THIS WAS MORE CATHARTIC how does this always happen? who raised this kid? oh right me

Group of Random Jin Guards: we are all well intentioned but ultimately expendable extras fear us

Random Jin Guard: UNHAND HIM FIEND

WWX: cool imma write u a song it's called Don't Care Didn't Ask Gonna Kill Everyone In This Tent Over Soup in b flat tootly toot here comes the murder flute

Random Jin Guards attacked by resentful energy: [keyboard smash]

LWJ: wait hold on that's his shit starting music has shit been started?? wEi YiNg

WWX: are u prepared for the journey i'm about to send u on little man

JZX: i'm actually good here thanks

[unintelligible teenage screaming]

MM: HEY LISTEN U CAN'T DO THAT MURDER IS BAD and i still like him i sympathize but like...u can't

WWX: the semi corporeal black smoke demons that sublet my soul tell me that it's fine sooo

JYL: a-xian if u kill him now i will have put up with so much bs for n o t h i n g

LWJ: take a deep breath us ur words what in the actual hell is going on

WWX: fuck u ur not my therapist

LWJ: u do not have a therapist never has someone so clearly NOT had a therapist except maybe jiang cheng

WWX: SOUP MURDER IS GOING ON

LWJ: wut

JYL: pls understand it's just as dumb as you think

LWJ: ... i refuse to let soup related crimes of passion be something my future husband is known for u stop that

WWX: THEN I'M LEAVING

LWJ: wow

JYL: we're both in love with idiots

JZX: am i still gonna keep getting soup?

[this is a thing i do sometimes so if you would like to see more...]

Scene suggested by @nagisachan1!! (I’m so sorry I forgot to tag/credit you when I posted this!)

#my stuff #cql crack #has the word soup lost its meaning for anyone else yet?#the transcript for this is saved under 'i'm at soup.docx'#brief summary #not so brief #oh well #I swear i'm working on the episode 4 one it's giving me HASSLES #please ignore the fact that I spelled emperor wrong i do that about half the time anyway #my edit

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever!

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing?

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…"

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably.

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while…

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable!

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows…

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel.

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die…?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods #obey me scenarios

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redwinterroses · 3 years

Note

hey so here's an idea for a "two best friends but one turned evil and asked the other to kill him before he went too far gone" trope (you know exactly what i'm referring to)

the first character, looking into his friends eyes, stabs him in the heart. then they both fall down and the first character is left on his knees, head down, holding onto the sword embedded into his friend's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

he doesn't touch the sword again and instead ties a ribbon around it in memory of the one he lost

you're welcome :)

- anon fierri

Not that this has been on my brain all day or anything, but... well. Okay. It has been. And then @/3lsmp posted that stuff about a zombie AU and-- well. This happened.

Yay for my first shulker box fic! (1,728 words, with mirrored/connected first and last lines)

Zombie stories don't have happy endings so... neither does this. Be warned.

Jimmy’s waiting when Scott gets back home.

He stands in front of the door to the house they’ve been living out of, with none of his gear or weapons on him. He’s leaning against the old oak that grows next to the sidewalk, one foot perched on a root that ripples out of the ground and cracks through the old concrete. The sun is setting behind him, but the twilight shadows don’t quite hide the bloody stain that spreads from his right shoulder.

Scott’s feet come to a stop of their own accord, and he very specifically does not move his hand to the hilt of his sword. He shifts his satchel— filled with goodies he managed to find today; he discovered an entire village that hadn’t been raided yet— on his arm, its weight heavy after an afternoon of walking. He hates the wary tone in his words when he calls out:

“Jimmy?”

Jimmy, looking up to see him, gives a shrug. “Told ya this would happen,” he says, and there’s a quirk to his smile that could break other hearts.

((hard to break what’s already shattering.))

Scott swallows. “Show me.”

Jimmy pulls the collar of his shirt to the side, and Scott winces at the bloody mess that is his mangled shoulder.

“Skizz got me,” Jimmy says. “It was stupid— I should’a been faster, but… I mean, it was Skizz, ya know? He still kinda looked like himself, and I thought… I dunno what I thought. But by the time I realized he was already gone, he’d got my shoulder in his teeth and…”

((the earth is crumbling away beneath him. this is a nightmare. time to wake up now.))

((please wake up now.))

“Hey, don’t worry.” Jimmy covers the wound back up. “It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“It doesn’t— No, Jimmy that’s not the way to make me feel better.” Scott takes another step forward, his arms aching to reach out and his gut telling him to get away get away get away— He can feel his throat closing, swallowing emotions he refuses to feel.

“Look— ” Jimmy takes a step forward and Scott backpedals, half-unsheathing the blade at his hip. He hates himself for it instantly, but the instinct—

The instinct is what keeps him alive.

Jimmy just puts his hands up placatingly. “Hey, hey— I’m not that far gone yet.”

“You’re fine.” Scott tries to sound scornful, and nearly succeeds. “We’ll get you patched up and you’ll be good as new in a few days. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

With a laugh, Jimmy shakes his head. “Nice daydream,” he says. “That would be cool.”

They stand there, in a silence that shouldn’t have been awkward, for a long moment. Then, at the same time:

“Scott, you know— ”

“So I picked up a— ”

Pause.

“You go first,” Jimmy says.

((Jimmy always puts others first.))

Scott grits his teeth and forces his voice to be light and cheerful. Nothing is wrong. They’re fine. “I found canned soup!” he says. “Five cans— one’s a little rusty, but I’m sure it’s fine.”

“That’s… um. That’s good.”

Scott steps around Jimmy—

((not too close. don't get too close— no. damn you, coward, get as close as you want, there’s nothing wrong— ))

— and moves toward the house. “So…” he says, “I’ll just… start up the fire? Get dinner going? I think we’ve still got some— ”

“Scott.”

Jimmy’s voice stops him, and Scott winces. He drops his head, unable to look Jimmy in the eye.

“Don’t make me do this,” he says. His voice struggles, and his free hand goes to his throat, as if he can pull the plea from his chest. “You… you can’t make me do this. You can’t.”

((i can’t, i can’t, i can’t— ))

“You gotta.”

((too close!!))

Scott’s head snaps up, and one hand flails behind him, catching against the siding of the house. Jimmy is right there—

((danger! danger!))

But other than the tell-tale red gleam in his eye and the bloody stain on the shoulder of his shirt, Jimmy looks the same. Same golden hair, same dimple as he quirks half a sad smile, same gentle hands spread wide. Unarmed, though that won’t matter soon. He stands close enough that Scott could reach out and touch him— punch him, maybe, for being such an idiot… or wrap him in an embrace that will never let go.

“Skizz got me an hour ago,” Jimmy says, and his voice is as low as a secret. “I’ve got… what. Maybe twenty minutes? Another hour if we’re insanely lucky?”

“You’re fine,” Scott says again. But this time it comes out as a plea and not a statement.

“I’m not.” Jimmy shakes his head. His eyes shift to the side. “I… to be honest, I’m already feeling it.”

“Feeling— feeling what?” Why was he asking. What a stupid question.

And yet… yet he had to know.

Jimmy drops his hands to his sides, and they clench and unclench. Scott watches, mesmerized, his heartbeat fluttering in time with Jimmy’s hands curling into white-knuckled fists and uncurling into trembling claws.

“I can’t— I can’t describe it. It’s like I’m on fire. Only I’m drowning at the same time. Or something. And I— ” he takes a deep breath, and meets Scott’s gaze. A low growl comes into his voice, and the hands squeeze tight into hard twists of bone. “I look at you, and all I can see is how easy you’d be to kill right now.”

Scott’s sword is drawn before his denial can catch up.

((instinct keeps you alive))

Jimmy looks down at the shining blade, and finally his façade of cheerful nonchalance wavers. There’s a crack in his voice as he says, “There we go. That’s… that’s the way it’s gotta be.”

((i can’t, i can’t, i can’t— ))

And then, as if he can hear Scott’s internal scream: “I don’t— I don’t want to become like one of them. I don’t want… you to see me like that.”

Like one of them. Scott’s memories skip over images of white-eyed creatures, people he used to know, monsters with mindless hunger driving them to rip, to shred, to devour—

Jimmy wakes up crying some nights. He tries to be quiet, Scott knows, but in the single room they’ve barricaded against the darkness, every sound is magnified— and Scott's always been a light sleeper. He knows Jimmy dreams of them, dreams of blood and gore and of being left alone— or worse, of being the one to do the shredding.

He knows because he’s dreamed it too.

“I won’t let that happen,” he says, his voice firm. But there’s a tremble in the sword between them.

“You didn’t let it happen. It just… it just did, dude. That’s life.” Jimmy takes a deep breath, and with a far too gentle hand, takes hold of the sword blade and guides it to rest over his heart. “Anyway, you promised.”

“Right so, if I get bit, you have to take me out before I can hurt anyone.”

“Ew. What a horribly morbid things to say.”

“I’m serious! I couldn’t deal with it if I turned into one of those things and came after you or any of the others— ”

“It’s not gonna happen, so don’t be stupid about it.”

“Come on— just say it. Promise me that if I start to turn, you’ll… ya know. Kill me.”

“Jimmy— ”

“Promise me, Scott.”

“…Fine. But only if you promise the same.”

((it won’t happen. it'll be fine. they’ll be fine.))

“Of course, dude. I promise.”

“You promised.”

Scott’s face is wet with hot tears that he can’t feel himself crying, and he wants to drop the sword— wants to fling it away from both of them and let fate do its worst. Who cares if he dies too?

((jimmy cares. If you let him destroy you, it’ll destroy him first.))

“Damn you,” Scott whispers.

Jimmy smiles.

The sword enters his body too easily.

It slides between the ribs, the only sound the soft catch in Jimmy’s throat as the blade bites into his heart.

For a frozen instant, they both stand there, outside the house they’d claimed— the home they’d defended. Jimmy looks down at the weapon in his chest, one hand reaching toward Scott—

And he falls

((he falls and falls and falls and Scott is falling too and the sword clatters to the ground and he’s clutching at Jimmy’s face and bundling the body to himself and pawing the hair away from his eyes and Jimmy’s hand is on his and— ))

There are no final words. No poignant goodbyes, no tearful proclamations or whispered last regrets.

There is only an ending.

There is only Scott, silent and dry-eyed, kneeling on the ground under the oak with Jimmy’s lifeless hand clasped to his chest.

He doesn’t move, even as night falls around him—

((them))

— and the cicadas start their mournful chorus. Doesn’t stir until something rattles down the street and he dimly realizes that Jimmy would murder him if after all this, Scott went and got himself shredded by a zombie anyway.

Jimmy’s body is heavier than he expected, and yet somehow lighter than it ought to be. As if it’s missing everything that made it Jimmy. He drags it—

((him))

— inside the house and wonders what exactly he’s supposed to do now. Dig a grave, he supposes, but— where? In the yard? It seems so… anticlimactic.

((death is anticlimactic. life is the climax. death is… an afterthought.))

He leaves the sword where it fell. He can’t… he can’t bear to touch it now. Scott doesn’t believe in curses—

((yes you do yes you do you’re cursed this place is cursed and that sword is cursed and the ground where it lays is cursed and— ))

— and yet he can’t bring himself to fetch it. Someone else can find it.

He’ll dig the grave tomorrow.

Tonight… tonight he sits. Keeps watch. Hopes beyond hope that Jimmy will stir— knowing that if he does, it won’t be for any good reason. Knowing that if he does, he won’t be able to kill him a second time.

Tomorrow he’ll leave. Find a new place— far away. Sometime, maybe sooner, maybe later… he’ll find the end of his road too.

He hopes Jimmy will be waiting there, when he finally gets back home.

#i played with the prompt a little bit near the end #but... yeah. that's a thing i wrote today.#redwinterwrites #redwinteranswers #3L zombie au #why are we so mean to scott and jimmy in these fics honestly #someone write some good skizz angst or etho or somebody #they get left out lol

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yoonsshadow · 3 years

Text

ETERNAL - v

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; smoking, mature conversations

➳ word count ; 3k

➳ note ; Thank you for your patience!

masterlist

Fear is a fist that clutches your heart, reminding you of its presence each time it tightens its grip. It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but you can feel the strength in its hold; the raging tendons wrapped around your tender organ that strain with each heartbeat. A singular emotion controlling your very pulse.

Cigarette smoke billows into the indigo hour of the night, and you find yourself unable to pry the fingers away.

The air on the balcony is cold, but it envelops you in a comforting embrace; it’s a soft coolness, as opposed to the harsh, biting climate of the desert that you’ve become accustomed to. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, but you don’t feel the need to scratch at yourself, to tear the skin from your flesh. It makes you feel alive, even if the definition of that word has changed for you.

Evidence of your newfound immortality, if that’s what you can call it, dangles between your fingers, ashes falling to the ground several storeys below with each gentle tap. It tastes terrible⎯⎯a bitter flavour of death in every pull⎯⎯but it serves its purpose for now. It keeps you grounded, gives you something to focus on other than the slowly growing anxiety that still holds strong in your chest.

Behind you, the balcony door slides open, startling the silent air with its soft drag.

“You’re up late,” Namjoon says. He speaks soft, low, as if hesitant to disturb you. “Or early, I guess. Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

You breathe out a puff of smoke, watching as it dissipates into the darkness. “I’m not.” He steps into your periphery, leaning on the metal railing beside you. “I just needed...something. Found them hidden away in the bookshelf.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Figures. We’re usually a non-smoking household, but sometimes the boys get sneaky. Pass me one?”

You hand him the box. Only two cigarettes left. He brings one to dangle between his lips and, without asking, you hand him a lighter. It takes him three tries, and then he’s sighing smoke into the air as well.

“Thought you were a non-smoking household.”

“We are. Stinks up the place, and it tastes disgusting. But. When in Rome.”

“You calling me Rome?”

He chuckles, but doesn’t answer. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head, despite knowing that he isn’t looking at you. “Too much on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

He blends in with the shadows, slightly, though the peaks of his cheekbones catch the dull light that glows through the mist of pollution. “I get that. Would you rather me talk?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Not really.”

So he stays. Until the embers begin to burn your fingertips; until you’re snuffing your cigarette on the metal rail. You don’t think you’ll smoke again. You suppose it doesn’t matter, though. There’s forever ahead of you to change your mind.

Sunlight is just beginning to illuminate the buildings around you when Namjoon speaks up again. He stubbed his own cigarette before it was even halfway done.

“I’m sure you’re curious,” he says. “About us, about the situation, about everything. And we’ll tell you as much as we can, but...There are some things the boys won’t feel comfortable telling you about just yet. We’ve lived long lives. We’ve done good things and bad things; experienced things we’re proud of and things that haunt us. We may not die, but we’re still human. I hope that you don’t mind being patient with us.”

Your heart aches a little at the melancholy in his tone, as if you wouldn’t give the world for these seven men after knowing them just a day. It feels as if your soul has missed them for a lifetime.

“Namjoon.” He turns to face you, now, and a halo of soft light glows around his face. “I don’t know what you’ve all been through, and frankly, it’s none of my business. If you want to tell me something, I know that you’ll do it in your own time. I’ve got the rest of my life to get to know you all, okay? There’s no rush.”

His smile starts as a twitch, a quirked corner of his lips, but quickly grows wide. Relieved.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he says. He offers no elaboration, no further words, but you think you know what he means. Because you’re glad it’s him, too. You’re glad it’s them.

With breakfast comes clarity. As you sit at the large dining table, bowls of rice, soup, and several plates of banchan steaming into the morning air, you find yourself feeling calmer than you have since your death. It’s as though the raging tides of emotions⎯⎯uncertainty, confusion, downright fear⎯⎯have finally quelled into a tranquil body of water. There is sure to be a ripple sooner or later, but for now, it is completely still.

Yoongi, the cook of this morning’s feast, takes the first bite, and the rest of you follow. There is so much that you want to say, so many questions that you want to speak into existence, but the bitter taste of apprehension bleeds through even the delicious taste of your meal. You feel like you might choke on it⎯⎯the taste and your words both⎯⎯but your throat closes before you can even swallow.

Ah. There is the awaited ripple.

Perhaps it is the hours of silent companionship, or simply his centuries of wisdom, but Namjoon seems to sense your internal struggle. “If there’s anything you want to ask us, Y/N, go ahead. We’ll answer to the best of our abilities.”

Your throat eases and your tastebuds return to normal. “Well…” Where do you begin? What questions do you ask potentially ancient beings? “I guess let’s start with what this,” you wave a finger around the table, at the seven other sets of eyes who watch you patiently, “is. The situation.”

Namjoon nods slowly. It seems he’ll be taking charge for this conversation, much to the visible relief of the others. “Even we aren’t completely certain of what exactly this is,” he says. “From what we’ve learned, our death granted us immortality, or something to that degree. We cannot die, nor can we get majorly injured. Any wounds heal quickly, and any illnesses metabolise out of our system before they can affect us.”

You nod. All of this you were already aware of.

“As for this,” he continues. He looks around the group, fighting back a fond smile. “We’re all connected. When someone else becomes like us, we all see visions of each other to help us find them. The same happened with you. You saw visions of us when you slept, and we saw visions of you. That’s how we could find you. The dreams gave us enough information to figure out who you were, and then it was a matter of locating you.”

“Which wasn’t easy, by the way,” Jimin adds, though there is no annoyance. “Your files were so deeply buried that we thought they might not exist. And don’t even get me started on accessing the satellite.”

“You hacked a satellite?” You can’t hide the shock in your tone, and you don’t miss the glint of mischief in Jimin’s eyes.

“That’s not important,” Namjoon says, taking control of the conversation once again. “What’s important is this: the eight of us are intrinsically connected now. We might not get the visions anymore, but we are still linked. The easiest way to describe it is that we’re soulmates, though that might not even be true. We were destined to find each other, to be immortal together. Whether it’s for some higher purpose, or just a random curse, we don’t know. It’s better, I think, if we don’t try and find out that reason.”

Now that confuses you. “Why? Isn’t it human nature to be curious?”

Hoseok scoffs. “I don’t think we fall under the definition of ‘human’ anymore.”

You’ll have to file that away for later.

Namjoon ignores Hoseok, and looks straight at you. “If we become too enveloped in trying to figure out the big ‘why’, we’ll get lost in ourselves. We’ll lose our own sense of purpose. If we were chosen, for whatever reason, then we have to trust that our instincts will guide us to do what is needed.”

“Okay.” You suppose he’s right. “Then, could you tell me how old you all are?”

“We don’t do ages,” Taehyung says. He sounds almost amused. “We know the age we were when we died, but we don’t keep track of how long we’ve lived after that. It’s a rule.”

“Then how about...generally? Who was the first? How did you all die?”

All eyes turn to Namjoon. Honestly, you can’t say you’re surprised.

“I was the first,” he says. A faraway look takes over his eyes, as if lost in the past. Seokjin puts a grounding hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t figure out my actual age if I tried, but it was...a long time ago. I was the chief of my village. Killed for power. The story isn’t too interesting.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Yoongi clears his throat. “I was the second. A slave to some tyrant who thought he was all-powerful. Killed in front of the other slaves to put them in line.” He shrugs, but doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Hoseok is quick to speak next, his words are short and curt. “I was third. Court execution.” He seems reluctant, as if guarding his past behind the tightly-locked gates of his crossed arms, but you mean what you said to Namjoon earlier; you will wait for them. For however long it takes.

Next is Seokjin, and you have a feeling that his theatrics are for Hoseok’s benefit. “I was the lucky fourth, and a king, at that! Though I was only in the position for a few hours, and all public records of it were thrown into the river with my body. Which is a shame, really, because my portraits deserved to be in museums for all to marvel over.”

“Um.” Jeongguk seems nervous, and you see him hide his shaking hands beneath the table. “I was next. I died of...natural causes.”

“And we came as a set,” Taehyung smiles, arm slung over Jimin’s shoulders. “Died at the very same moment, and woke up the same way! We were best friends, right, Jiminie? On the opposite sides of a war, but I loved him with my whole heart.”

Jimin nods, a wistful smile pulling at his cheeks. “I remember thinking that I was so lucky, to die in his arms. To never have to live a single moment without him. And then we found the others, and I thought that I must’ve been in heaven to be so fortunate.”

“We’re all together,” Namjoon elaborates, though it’s unnecessary. A blind man could see the way they feel about each other. “It may be because of circumstance, though I like to think that it’s because we were all meant to be. Like it’s a gift from the universe, allowing soulmates born in different centuries to find each other.”

“And now you,” Jeongguk whispers. His eyes glimmer, hopeful, and so young despite the obvious years he has over you. You wonder why he doesn’t seem as emotionally aged as the others; what could cause him to cling to his youth the way he does. It doesn’t matter, though. If it means he keeps his heart, it will never matter.

“We don’t expect anything from you,” Seokjin says. “Not romantically or even platonically. You are still your own person, and if you don’t want to be a part of this, in any degree, we won’t force it.”

You are thankful for that. It takes away a pressure that you didn’t even know you had until now. The thought that this is a choice⎯⎯a decision that is completely yours to make⎯⎯relieves you to no end. And yet...

“I don’t think that’s a decision I can make right now.” You mindlessly arrange the chopsticks on your now empty plate as you try to summon the right words to explain yourself. “There’s so much that I need to figure out, and so many things that I feel I have to do. I don’t even know if I’ve properly processed the situation yet, or if I’m simply in shock.”

“Is there any way we can help you?” Yoongi, as always, seems so genuine. So heartfelt.

“You already have. So much more than you’d believe.” And it’s true. Independence is your life. You may have been in a team in your old life, a leader of a small group for whom you were responsible, but you were always brought up, always trained, to survive alone. To find comfort in an existence of solitude. Because that’s what the military is; it is removing yourself from others, from the world. You were in a team, sure, but you were all alike in your aloneness. Alone together.

Now, you have this group of men who, without knowing you, have plucked you from your misery and now offer you everything. Offer themselves, their companionship, their help. You are not the one responsible, the one with everything on the line. They have taken that from you with gentle hands, and you give it away gladly. There is not much else that you could ask of them.

Except. Well, maybe there is.

“But…” You trail off, and their eyes just scream patience. You don’t know how they do it, how they’ve grown to be so effortlessly composed and serene, because right now your heart is beating in urgency. It batters against your chest, yelling at you to just ask them, now, but your words falter in sudden uncertainty. They have already given you so much, offered even more; can you truly ask for the help that you now realise you may need?

You look into their eyes again, and know that the answer is yes.

“This mission,” you continue, sitting up straighter. If you speak with confidence, perhaps you’ll start to feel it. “As far as I know, it was never completed. When our team went in, it was under the belief that we’d be able to rescue all of the children safely and relatively unseen. Someone on the inside tipped them off, but they had to have had a reason. They wouldn’t have betrayed us like that unless something was wrong.”

“You speak like you know exactly who it was,” Hoseok says. It isn’t a question, and you see it in his expression that he isn’t necessarily looking for an answer.

You won’t give him one. Not yet. Not until you’ve figured out for yourself why this person would’ve left you for dead. “That isn’t important right now,” you say in lieu of a confirmation. “What matters is that those children are still out there somewhere, and there’s a leak in the operation.” Releasing a deep sigh, you slump down a bit. “I’m going back to the desert, back to the base, and I’m going to save those children. If you would like to help me...that would be really nice.”

“Of course we’ll help,” Jeongguk says, without hesitation. There’s a resoluteness in the set of his jaw that you haven’t seen in him before. “Anything you need. We mean it.”

“We should talk about this plan of yours first, though,” Namjoon says. “As far as the military is concerned, you’re dead. You died with your team. If you go back to your base of operations, that’s just going to open up a whole lot of complications for both sides. They might think that you were the traitor, being the only survivor. We’ll need to operate with a certain level of stealth.”

You were worried about that. Your dog-tags are with the rest of your team’s, your body supposedly burned along with theirs. You won’t be able to reprise the role you previously played in this, and you won’t have the military support that you once had. If you do this, it will be in the shadows, hiding behind corners and turning away from cameras. You are a ghost now. You’ll have to act like one.

“Okay,” you say. “I understand; we need to stay hidden. But there is one person that I need to see face-to-face. I can promise that they won’t do anything to endanger our identities.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Jimin says. “Trust is one thing when you’re alive, but if they’ve been mourning your death, you can’t know for sure how they’ll react.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you affirm. “I trust this person, and I’m going to need you all to trust me.”

Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation. “It isn’t that we don’t trust you,” he says, “but we can’t fully trust the situation. We don’t know this person, whoever they are, or how they’ll use this information against you. Against us.”

“I get it, I do.” You can’t help but sigh. “But this is something that I need to do, and something that I will do regardless of whether I have your permission. I won’t let my decision affect any of you, but if you decide against helping me because of this, I’ll understand.”

Yoongi leans forward. “We’re going to help you.” His tone is final. “And you’re right, this is your decision to make. We just want to make sure that you completely understand what you’re potentially getting yourself into.”

“You are all a lot older than me,” you say, “and obviously much wiser. But I’m an adult too, and I’m mature enough to know that my actions may have consequences. I’m no stranger to making tough decisions, or to taking responsibility. I may not be a Captain by rank anymore, but that doesn’t change who I am.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says. He doesn’t argue, nor does he apologise, but he doesn’t need to. There is a mutual understanding in the way you look at each other, and nothing more needs to be said. “So, what’s the plan?”

You take in a deep breath, and prepare your mind to return to the place you’ve grown to loathe.

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tags: @leafyturtle, @loveyoongles, @paint-music-with-me, @barbikatherine, @itsmorgo1604, @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @veronawrites, @applepie1000, @yoonchrisgullwrites, @ally22042000, @ireallylikefoodandyoutube, @blglmgk01, @basicgukk, @softescapism, @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered, @m1nt-3lla, @hunnayesblog, @rosycheekb, @hemmofluke, @the-bisaster, @katbonv, @borahebangtan, @monodroppp, @skyys-universe

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tobesolonely · 4 years

Text

never have i ever

summary: y/n and harry go on a camping trip, but things don’t go according to plan

a/n: thank u for reading! please reblog/leave feedback if you enjoy! its very encouraging to me :’)

warnings: smut <33 18+ please! mentions of alcohol/drinking as well

word count: ~4k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

Never in your life did you think you'd ever agree to do something as outdoorsy as camping, yet all it took was Harry asking you very sweetly one time, and you immediately agreed. You'd never been one to spend an excessive amount of time with nature. You loved a good sunrise and sunset, just like most people. Sometimes you'd even wake up early and go on a sunrise hike with Harry if he promised to make you breakfast once you were finished. Occasionally, you'd go on walks and runs with him, and spend some time down at the beach. That was the extent of the outdoor activities you'd partake in, though. However, Harry had the grand idea to go camping for the weekend as he had a bit of time off, and this was something he'd been talking about wanting to do for a while.

"Don't you wanna be one with nature? Help me pitch a tent? Get your hands a lil' dirty?" He asked you when you started having second thoughts about going with him, the idea of sleeping on the hard ground inside a small tent a major turn off.

"I mean, I can think of better ways to spend my weekend," you tell him, stirring the pot of soup you were making on the stove. It's the night before you were supposed to leave, and Harry already had the car packed, way too excited to wait any longer. "You know I always get the worst bug bites."

"That's what bug spray is for!" he tells you cheerily, snaking his arms around your waist and placing a wet kiss to your neck. "C'mon, Y/N. I promise it'll be worth it."

You sink into Harry's kisses, feeling wobbly in your knees as it was one of your most sensitive spots— and he knew that. "I suppose it'd be nice to get out of the city for a bit. Jus' me and you, yeah?" You didn't want anyone else to see how out of your element you were in the outdoors as you found it to be a little embarrassing. Harry hums, placing more open mouth kisses on your skin.

"Just me," he pauses to kiss you. "You," another kiss. "And the birds ‘n the bees." You blush, choosing to ignore his sexual innuendo.

"I guess it's too late to back out now, especially since you already took it upon yourself to pack a suitcase for me," you tell him, rolling your eyes and turning off the stove. "I'll give it a try, Harry. Besides, it's only a weekend, yeah? What could possibly go wrong?"

⋆⋆⋆

As it turns out, many, many things could go wrong during a weekend-long camping trip.

Harry told you that you didn't need to pull up directions because he knew where he was going, but you quickly realized that your stubborn boyfriend was hopelessly lost. "I don't think we're heading in the right direction, darling," you informed him from the passenger seat, opening up the Maps app on your phone. "You're positive you don't want me to give you directions? No shame in admitting you're lost."

Harry mutters under his breath, squinting his eyes to look at the freeway signs. He sighs, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Think I missed m'bloody exit," he tells you, clearly growing frustrated. "Can yeh tell me where 'm supposed to be, love? I think once I figure out the exit, we'll be good."

You and Harry were choosing to not venture too far out of Los Angeles, but far enough so you would be able to enjoy your time together without prying paparazzi. For this reason, he settled on a spot known to be a little more remote, about 50 miles north of downtown. Once you pull up the directions on your phone, your suspicions are confirmed. Harry was headed in the complete opposite direction, and he missed the exit nearly ten miles back. "Yeah, you're gonna need to take the next exit you see, and then we have to go back in the opposite direction. Just about ten miles too far."

"Ten miles? Lemme see tha'," he holds his hand out for your phone and pulls the car over on the freeway's side, turning on his hazards. "Huh, you're right. How'd we miss that, babe?"

"We missed it because you insisted you didn't need directions," you remind him, exasperated. "I'm from here, and I don't even know how we're supposed to get there!" Harry laughs, re-emerging onto the freeway.

"I guess I should've just let you read me the directions, huh? Don't worry, we'll be there soon. S'what? Ten miles? We'll be there in twenty minutes."

However, twenty minutes quickly turned into forty when you found yourselves stuck in the morning commute traffic. Harry fiddles with the radio as you go 5 miles per hour (on the freeway!), trying not to let the infamous Los Angeles traffic get him down. Although you were a bit behind the schedule he'd created, it was still only 7:30 am. You had the whole day ahead of you, and he couldn't wait to get you out in the wilderness and teach you how to pitch a tent and make the perfect s'more."

Eventually, you make it to the campgrounds. You had to admit that it was absolutely beautiful— tall, looming pine trees, snow-capped mountains, picnic tables, patches of even ground you figured would be perfect to set up the tent on, and even a couple outhouses. Harry gives you a smug look when he sees your awestruck face, glad that he was the first to show you something from your own city.

"It's beautiful up here, innit? So peaceful. Looks like we're here by ourselves too," he gestures towards the empty campgrounds. "Nice and private."

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt as Harry puts the car in park. "I'm already feelin' more relaxed," you joke, opening the door and stepping out to stretch your stiff limbs. "Should we walk around and take a peek at everything before we get ourselves set up?"

"Yeah, s'good idea," he gets out of the car himself and walks around to you, grabbing your hand. "Maybe we can go hiking later? Hear there's a nice little waterfall somewhere around here. Would love to see that." You hum in agreement, walking along the dry ground, leaves crunching under your feet.

"That sounds nice. I can't believe I've never been here," you tell him incredulously, swinging your hands. "It's so gorgeous. And is it just me, or is the air here like, super crisp?" Harry chuckles, nodding in agreement.

"I don't think it's just you, poppet. We're finally away from all that L.A. smog, can take some nice, deep breaths. This will be great for m'asthma." You laugh, and a comfortable silence falls between you. Occasionally, Harry will say, "Look at tha' bird!" or "That's the biggest tree 've seen in my life!" but you walk in silence, for the most part, enjoying each other's company.

"Do you think we should turn back?" you ask your boyfriend, stopping to look back in the direction you came from. "We've been walkin' for a minute. I don't think we should venture too far from the car." You were starting to grow tired and weren't in the right shoes for walking much longer.

"Yeah, let's get back and get that tent set up. Also gettin' kind of hungry," Harry tells you, turning you back around in the direction you'd come from. "How's tea and eggs sound?"

⋆⋆⋆

"Harry, you've got to be fuckin' kidding me!"

"Y/N, I swear I packed it! It has to be somewhere in here!"

"We've emptied out the entire car, Harry!"

Upon returning to the campsite, your boyfriend was excited to get the tent out of the car, so you could "really get this camping trip started," as he said. Yet, when he went in the trunk of his car to retrieve the tent, it was nowhere to be found. Neither one of you panicked at first, figuring he might've squeezed it in the backseat instead, as the trunk was pretty full. It wasn't there, either. Now, your suitcases and cooler was laid out around the car, but the tent was nowhere to be found. He runs his fingers in frustration through his hair, tapping his foot while he contemplates calling one of his assistants and asking her to bring it to him.

"Harry, don't make her do that. You already told her she could have the weekend off. It's not her fault you forgot it," you scold, digging your shoe's toe into the dirt. "We can just sleep in the car."

"That's so uncomfortable," he mewls, placing your suitcases back into the car. "Maybe we should just go home. We're not off to a very good start, maybe it's a sign?"

"No way, H. I've already called off work to come here with you, we're staying," you insist, reaching back into the car to grab the electric tea kettle you've bought. "Let's get a little breakfast in our stomachs and then go see that waterfall, how's that sound?" Harry gives you a reluctant look but agrees, reaching in the cooler to grab the carton of eggs you've brought along. He grabs the small skillet, albeit your favorite one that you told him not to bring here, and grabs a small charcoal bag to light the grill.

"Have yeh got a lighter on ya?" Harry asks, walking over to the small grill beside the picnic table. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"Me? You didn't ask me to bring it! Are you telling me we can't even light the grill now?" You couldn't believe everything that could go wrong on your camping trip was going wrong, but now it seemed like you wouldn't even be able to prepare hot meals for the next two days.

"Yes, I did, Y/N," Harry argues back calmly, not wanting to raise his voice. "Remember? I bought that long one so it would be easier to use. Said, 'Babe, make sure yeh grab the lighter off the counter.'" You think for a moment and then shake your head, sure Harry did, in fact, not tell you to grab the lighter, and he was just trying to push the blame to you.

"Now what? We can't cook the meat or vegetables all because you couldn't remember to bring the lighter," you tell him sharply, feeling yourself growing more annoyed by the second. You were incredibly frustrated because you weren't keen on the idea of camping in the first place, but you came along anyway, not expecting so many things to go wrong.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, a thing he does every time things start getting heated between the two of you because he hates fighting. "Well, it's at home, and there's not much we can do about it, so 'm sorry for pointin' fingers at you. Did we bring anything we can snack on that doesn't require cooking?" You rummage around in the cooler and find a box of cheese, some cold cuts, a loaf of french bread, and a couple bottles of wine.

"Hows some cheese, bread, and meat sound? We can make little sandwiches," you tell him, pulling out the food. "Maybe some wine?"

Harry chuckles, walking over to you. "Y/N, it's not even 10 am."

"We're on vacation, aren't we?"

He shrugs, walking over to you to grab the bottle of wine. You grab plates, napkins, and a sheet you bought to double as a tablecloth, laying it out atop the picnic table. "'M actually starving," he calls to you from beside the car, reaching to grab two wine glasses. "Can't wait to eat this."

You cut into the loaf of french bread and cheese and add slices of salami and ham, quickly assembling mini sandwiches for you and Harry. "These look good, don't they?" you ask him, half teasing, half-serious. You hand him his sandwich, and he grins, grabbing it from you.

"Looks delicious, Y/N, thank you. Cheers," he gently taps his sandwich against yours, and you both take big bites, moaning at your first taste of food all day. "Want some wine now?" He asks, pouring you each full glasses. He slides the glass in front of you and you grab it, taking a long sip.

"S'good. Where'd you get this one from?" you question, taking another bite from your sandwich.

"Italy," he responds sheepishly, tasting it himself. "I know how to pick a bottle of wine, don't I?"

You giggle at your boyfriend's subtle bragging, continuing to eat your breakfast. You realized that there was no way you and Harry could comfortably spend the whole weekend here camping. You'd most likely have to call it quits before it got dark. However, you were still glad you'd get to spend time with your boyfriend outdoors, eating "emergency sandwiches" and sipping on a 500 dollar bottle of wine.

⋆⋆⋆

"Never have I ever had a one night stand," you say loudly, giggling in the process. You and Harry were both absolutely plastered, having already finished one bottle of wine and working on the second. You've decided to play a good old fashioned game of Never Have I Ever, and it was getting more raunchy the drunker the two of you became. Harry narrows his eyes at you and takes a swig out of the bottle of wine, shaking his head.

"You already know 've had one because I've told yeh about it before, yeh lil' cheater," he exclaims, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Here's one. Never have I ever shagged in the backseat of a car." You choke on your wine, widening your eyes at him.

"You actually think I've done that? How kinky do you think I am?" you smack him on his arm, laughing at his ridiculous statement. Harry doesn't say anything, running his finger along the rim of his wine glass.

"Here's a more specific one," he leans closer to you, and you can smell the wine on his warm breath. "Never have I ever shagged in the back of my car, in the middle of the woods, while on a camping trip with my girlfriend." His hand goes to rest on your thigh, and you swallow thickly.

"Thought you wanted to go see that waterfall?" you ask him, your words jumbling together slightly. Harry turns to face you, so his legs are on either side of the bench, and he pulls you closer to him by your waist.

"Don't care much for the waterfall when 've got a beautiful woman sat in front of me," he blurts, sucking on the underside of your jaw.

"What d'you want then?" you challenge, tilting your head slightly, so Harry is better positioned to place kisses to your jaw.

"Want you," he responds simply, grabbing your hand and placing it over his growing bulge. "Y'know how wine gets me goin', love." You hum in agreement, palming him through his trousers.

"I know," you respond breathlessly, pulling away from him to down the rest of your wine. "Why don't we go to the car then?" Harry gives you a surprised look, a dopey smile on his face.

"So we're really doin' this then?" He asks, standing up from the picnic table and holding his hand out for you to grab.

"No one's around, why not?" You knew that your sexual boldness came from all the wine you'd consumed, but at that moment, you didn't think there was anything you wanted more in the world than your boyfriend's cock down your throat. "Need to taste you." Harry groans, leading you hastily toward the car. You both stumble to get there in your intoxicated stupor but make it in one piece, giggling and clinging onto one another.

"After you, m' lady," he opens the backseat and curtsies, causing you to both erupt into a fit of giggles. You clamber into the backseat, scooting all the way to the other side so Harry could climb in after you. He shuts the door, and you sit in silence for a minute, catching your breaths. "Tight squeeze back here, yeah?"

"Yeah," you readjust your body, so your back is against the door, and your legs are over Harry's lap. "How are we gonna do this?"

Harry's quirks an eyebrow at you, undoing the button on his pants. "Yeh really wanna just straight into it, don't yeh, minx?" You nod, readjusting your position, so you're now on your knees, having to crane your neck slightly, so you're not hitting the car's roof.

"Let me taste you," you offer, seeing his hard cock straining to get out the confines of his tight clothing. He wordlessly nods and lifts his hips, tugging his pants down to his mid-thigh. He's not as hard as he can get, maybe due to the amount of wine he's consumed, but you know he's nearly there. You reach over to grab him, hands shaking slightly. "Can't believe we're doing this in the middle of the woods. Makes it even hotter, though."

Harry's head falls against the back seat's headrest as you flick your tongue out to capture the drop of pre-cum that was beginning to run down the side of his head. "Take me in y' mouth, Y/N. What are yeh waiting for?"

You place your hands on his thighs and lower your mouth onto his cock, taking him almost entirely in your warm mouth. Harry lets out a loud groan, not even bothering to quiet his sounds of pleasure since he knew no one was anywhere nearby. You come back up for air and lick your lips, giving him a sultry look. "You mean like that?" Harry grips the back of your head and roughly pushes you back down onto him, not in the mood for your teasing.

"Don't be cheeky now, lovie," he warns, bucking his hips up roughly to fuck your mouth. "Yeh want me to help you cum later, don't yeh?" You moan around his cock, not wanting to answer him, so you don't break the rhythm you were going at. As your sex life with Harry grew more adventurous throughout your relationship, you've only gotten better at deepthroating him, able to get him close to his orgasm in minutes. You always joked between the two of you that giving him head was one of your greatest talents, and of course, he never disagreed with that sentiment. You come up from his cock to take another breath, inhaling deeply through your nostrils. Harry immediately pushes you back down onto him without saying anything. He begins thrusting into you with even more vigor than before, and you know he's almost there. "Y/N, 'm gonna cum—"

You pull off Harry's mouth with a loud plop!, lifting up your dress and shoving your underwear to the side. "Can I ride you?" you ask sweetly, already situating yourself over him. Your boyfriend nods, completely flustered from being pushed so close to his orgasm, and then denied the opportunity to cum.

"S'course," he answers with a shaky breath. "C'mere." He grabs your waist and guides you onto his length, helping you sink down slowly. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him deep within you. Every ridge, every pulse, the warmth— it makes you feel completely feral. "That's a good girl, Y/N. Takin' my cock like it's nothing, aren't yeh? This is easy for you, hmm?"

You nod against his shoulder, starting to bounce around slowly on him. "So easy, H. Fit inside me so well," you moan, squeezing your eyes shut. "Feels fuckin' incredible, stretchin' me out like this." Harry squeezes onto your sides, leaving bruises in the shapes of his fingers. Harry places a kiss against his lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

"You like tha', Y/N? Such a dirty girl, lettin' me fuck ya in the back of my car like this. Kinky lil' thing, you are, pet," he mutters, thrusting his hips up as you slam yourself down to meet him. You nod, moving your hips in a gyrating motion.

"Love it, H. Fuckin' into me so well, fuck," you let out a particularly loud cry when Harry repositions you slightly, hitting your g-spot int he new position he has you in. "Don't stop please, keep going." You urge your boyfriend, throwing your head back. It's incredibly hot in the car, and you realize that maybe you should've cracked open a few windows before starting, but there was no way you're going to stop now to tell him that, not when you were this close.

"Y/N, I'm gonna cum," he cries out, his breathing becoming labored. "Let me have yeh in another position, please, 'm so fuckin' close."

"There's no room," you choke out, squeezing down on him. Harry moans loudly, muttering a quiet "shit" under his breath. He lifts you off of him and lays you down across the backseat, bending your knees up to your chest while he situates himself in between your legs. It's cramped and uncomfortable and hot, but you're so close, just a few thrusts away from reaching your high.

"Put your legs over my shoulders," he demands, resting on hand on the car's headrest while the other grips your breast. You nod and place your legs on either side of his shoulders, now being able to feel him in a completely different way. He re-enters you, so much deeper than before, and you swear you see stars. "Fuckin' hell, Y/N. Love your tight pussy, babe. All fo' me, yeah?"

"All for you, baby," you cry, gripping onto his broad shoulders. "'M gonna cum now, let me cum." You're a begging, writhing mess beneath him, squeezing down on his cock.

"Do tha' again," he asks, his rhythm becoming sloppy and hurried, just wanting to get the two of you off. "I'm almost there too, babe, squeeze 'round my cock again like you just did."

You clench around Harry and he lets his head hang, squeezing onto your breast even harder. "'M cummin', Y/N," he announces immediately before releasing inside you, his warm load coating your spongy walls. Your bite your lip and squeeze around him again, the coil in your abdomen becoming tighter as you quickly approach your peak shortly after he reaches his. You know Harry is exhausted, but he doesn't stop, never wanting to leave you hanging. He reaches in between your bodies and rubs quick circles on your clit with the hand that's gripping the headrest and flicks your nipples with the other hand. "Come on, love. Can feel how close you are, I know you're nearly there."

Harry spanks your clit while increasing his speed, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your vision going hazy. You feel like you're underwater— his voice sounds muffled and a little far away, and that's how you know the orgasm was good. Your eyes are still shut, and you feel him slowly pull out, trying not to get his seed all over the backseat of his car. After coming down from your high, you open your eyes, a blissed-out smile on your face. "That was incredible." You let out a quiet chuckle, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead. "Can you open the door? I can hardly breathe in here."

Harry laughs and slowly sits up, opening the door and inhaling the cold morning air. The car's windows were completely fogged up, and you're happy no one was walking by because if they did, they'd definitely know what the two of you had gotten into. "Guess you can't say you've never fucked in the backseat of a car before anymore."

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #never have i ever #thanks for reading!

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camthesolemnone · 3 years

Note

*crashes through door*

HI I HAVE ANOTHER ONE!!

Ok. Soulmate AU!! it's the one with the red string connecting you to your soul mate by your pinkie. Make up some rules for it if you need to!! I like to do the thing where the string gets tighter/looser as they move closer and farther from their s/o.

Ok, goodnight, I love you, bye!

*mwah*

*passes out just outside door*

Whoops accidentally made Zhanna older than Heavy in this one. Well I mean, maybe she is, but I've always written Mikhail as the oldest child in his family. Anyway, enjoy!

Wide eyes full of tears and flushed cheeks was what Mama came across upon turning to face who was tugging at her shawl. Little Zhanna, no more than five, was highly concerned about her baby brother.

"Mama! Misha’s finger is blue!"

Fearing that her son had developed gangrene from the cold brought on by the heavy storm outside, the distressed mother turned away from her soup pot and made haste towards the living room.

"Zhanna! Go get your father!" She instructed, entering the space, and the small girl nodded rapidly as she dashed off to where Papa was doing laundry.

Mama approached her child. The infant was situated in the center of the carpet, tiny hands shaking and eyes also leaking. Mikhail couldn't form words yet. He could only helplessly wail as he became light-headed; he had lost all feeling in his pinkie finger.

Mama kneeled down near him, and Zhanna and Papa appeared a second later.

"What is going on! Is moy syn alright?" The older man cried.

Mama took the boy’s hands in her own and examined them closely. As Zhanna had announced, his left pinkie was a light shade a blue. At the base of Mikhail’s finger was a small red string, fastened so tightly that it constricted the blood flow. The Russian mother breathed a sigh of relief.

“There is nothing to fear, he has simply acquired his soulstring,” Mama explained, standing up and giving her family a reassuring nod.

Papa let out his own held breath at the fortunate news, but Zhanna simply stared at her parents in confusion.

“Mama, what is a soulstring?”

Her father reached out to grasp her mother’s hand, and the two of them smiled down at their daughter.

“Young Zhanna, a soulstring is leetle red string around your pinkie that connects you to your soulmate: the person you are destined to fall in love with. Some people’s thread appears immediately after birth, but for others, it can take several years before their special partner is chosen,” Mama revealed.

Papa added on, motioning to Mikhail in the process.

“The tighter the string is, the farther you are away from your soulmate. Seeing as your brother’s is strong enough to cut off circulation, there is good chance his soulmate does not live in this country.”

Zhanna glanced over at the thread on Mikhail’s finger and then back to her parents, crossing her arms.

“What happens to the string when you find your ‘soulmate?’“ Zhanna inquired.

Papa crouched down to ruffle his daughter’s hair while Mama picked up Mikhail and left the room to resume dinner.

“Once you meet fated love, the string falls off for good,” he explained.

The small girl beamed and ran a hand through her black hair.

“Chudesno! I can’t wait to get my soulstring!”

Mikhail had given up on his chances of ever finding his love or feeling his finger again.

Forty seven years had passed since the red string initially appeared on his pinkie, and not once had he ever felt it loosen up. He felt hopeless and silently wondered most days if the higher beings had made a mistake. Maybe he truly wasn’t attached to anyone and they had tied the thread just to spite him. Instead, the Russian decided to spend his time taking care of his family.

His father had long since passed and Yana and Bronislava had run off with their soulmates, but at least Mikhail could still provide for his mother and Zhanna.

An ad in the newspaper intrigued him one morning: a mercenary job in America offering thousands. The giant immediately took to calling the company, known as Mann Co., and asked for a position. Not only would he be able to make enough money to provide a comfortable life for Mama and his sister, he was delighted at the opportunity to wield guns against evil men with no consequence. Moving away from the Russian blizzards would also prove to be a positive change.

Within two months of his interview, the new Heavy Weapons Specialist was landing down in New Mexico. A few days were spent getting used to his new surroundings and signing paperwork, but eventually, the bus came by his hotel to take him to the Reliable Excavation Demolition base.

While lounging in the tough leather seat, Heavy glanced at the surrounding seats and took notice of two other men sitting in the back. They both wore red and yellow bands on their arms, indicating they were some of Mikhail’s new teammates. Preferring not to spend a year with a group of people who disliked him, the Russian moved to the back of the bus to make a good first impression.

“Privet, I am Heavy Weapons Guy,” he began.

The two men looked up from their respective pieces of literature. The younger of the two lazily held and flipped a baseball magazine with one hand. The other man, taller and masked, was gripping a thick, plain-covered novel.

“Yo! I heard that our Heavy was supposed to be, well, you know, heavy, but damn you’re fa--OWW!” The Bostonian shouted, being met with a swift slap from the man sitting beside him.

“Please ignore Scout here. This rotten bunny doesn’t seem to have any manners.”

“Go to hell, you French bastard!” Scout shot back.

The insults continued and Heavy found himself silently slinking back into his seat. He had the strength to snap both of them like toothpicks if he so desired, but it was better not to end his career before it started.

Along the ride, the bus stopped several times to pick up the rest of the RED team. First came their pyromaniac and engineer, then the sniper and soldier. The demolition’s expert came by himself and the final stop was saved for a relatively young woman in a purple dress.

“Er, hello, everyone. I am Miss Pauling, your boss’s secretary. I’m scheduled to give you guys a tour around the base and to break down your jobs. Raise your hand if you have any questions and please, try to cooperate with one another,” the woman sighed.

Dell, the shortest man on the team with a yellow hardhat, raised his hand.

“Yes, Engineer?” Miss Pauling prompted.

“Isn’t there supposed to be one more fella here with us?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Miss Pauling glanced toward the ceiling briefly as if she were really pondering the answer before turning to Engineer.

“Medic’s flight got delayed due to a massive snowstorm in Berlin. He should be here tomorrow at the earliest.”

It was impossible to notice the difference just by looking at it, but Mikhail nearly jerked forward when he felt it. Was he really going insane in his desperation? Had the string really just loosened? It most certainly had, he had felt the pressure ease up ever so slightly, but something in the back of his mind that told him it was just his imagination. The giant shook his head and groaned, barely able to pay attention to anything else Miss Pauling said.

His mind became a battlefield of longing versus absurdity. The thread had suffocated him during his prime. There was no possible explanation as to why his soulmate would be appearing now of all times. By forty seven, Mikhail was overweight, balding, had several scars from his time in Siberia, and was rated ugly by every woman he had attempted to romance. He couldn’t think of a single reason as to why his love would find him attractive now, and it deepened the eternal hole in his heart.

But Heavy held onto the faintest thread of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his suffering was about to come to an end. He would meet with the woman or man fate had binded him to, and he could finally be happy.

That night, Mikhail stared at his bedroom ceiling wide awake. Once their team’s doctor arrived in New Mexico, he would know for certain what destiny had in store for him.

Ludwig’s attempt at getting some shut eye on the flight failed. He couldn’t fall asleep even if he wanted to, for his pinkie was regaining its color. Somehow, this job as a battlefield medic that he had selected out of the blue was leading his soul to its missing half.

“It’s only a matter of time,” he murmured to himself, eyes more hopeful than the day he earned his doctorate’s degree.

Heavy awoke to the sound of loud yelling and banging on his door.

“Attention! You will be dressed and be stationed in the recreational room for role call in five minutes! That is an order!” Soldier commanded.

The softer, more compassionate voice of Miss Pauling sighed and spoke through the door.

“I’m sorry Heavy. I couldn’t say anything to convince him not to come with me to wake you guys up. Just settle down in the rec room in a few minutes, okay?”

Mikhail groaned, both from a lack of sleep and the sudden wake-up call. He complied, however, adorning his red, short sleeved shirt, his bulletproof vest, the bandolier for his minigun, pants, a belt, and a pair of sturdy combat boots.

When the heavy weapon’s specialist arrived in the rec room, it was absolute chaos. Spy had moved on from insulting Scout to bickering with Sniper, Demoman was already sloshing around a bottle of alcohol, Scout had stolen Engineer’s hardhat and was taunting him with it, and Soldier was shouting at a terrified looking Pyro.

“RED Team! Enough! It’s only the first day and you’re already at each other’s throats!” Miss Pauling stomped, placing her hands on her hips.

Some the the mercenaries, including Heavy, faced towards their higher-up while the others continued to do their own thing.

“Now look, your first battle will begin as soon as Medic arrives. I’m heading over to the airport to pick him up, so I advise you all check over your equipment,” her words more of a command than a suggestion.

Heavy’s eyes widened. He felt it again.

He decided in that moment that polishing Sascha could wait.

Before Miss Pauling could leave the room, the large man scurried over to her and placed a massive hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.

“Yes, Heavy? Do you need something?” She asked plainly.

Mikhail nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Da, I want to come to airport with you, if you do not mind. I promise not to cause any problems.”

Pauling raised an eyebrow.

“Pozhaluysta, Miss,” the Russian begged, rubbing his forever blue pinkie with his other hand.

Miss Pauling opened her mouth to speak, but her words died on her lips when she noticed the tiny gesture. Instead, she gave him a short nod of understanding and proceeded out of the building.

In the car, Heavy’s leg bounced. His breathing was deep, and his whole body seemed to sweat with fear and anticipation. With every inch the vehicle moved, he could feel the burden on his finger lighten up. This wasn’t just some illusion or dream, it was really happening. After forty seven years of waiting, he was about to meet the love of his life.

Miss Pauling took note of his anxiousness, but didn’t say anything during the trip, giving Mikhail plenty of time to ask himself a million questions. What would his lover look like? Would they be a man or a woman? Would they have a heart of gold, or a rotten core that sought to make the Russian miserable at every turn?

Finally, the airport was in sight. Mikhail could hardly withstand the separation between himself and his soulmate. He wanted, needed to find his other half. He needed to shower them with all of the affection he had been waiting so long to administer. He needed to hear their voice and inhale their scent and feel their body against his own.

Miss Pauling nearly tripped over her high heels trying to catch up with the eager Russian. She had seem some truly heartwarming instances of soulmates meeting over the years, but never before in her life had she seen someone so desperate to unite with their fated love.

He had to hold onto a railing as he stepped out of the plane to avoid passing out.

Ludwig had always experienced air-sickness while flying, but more than that, his hand was trembling. The string that had plagued his right hand for decades was loose, looser than it had ever been before. The doctor was overwhelmed; he wanted to throw up and cry tears of happiness at the same time. This was his moment, his soulmate was waiting for him.

As he stood near the loading gate, the thread loosened further, and it signaled that his soon-to-be lover was getting closer, closer.

Unable to withhold his excitement, Medic dashed across the airport. He got caught up in several crowds and passed right by the luggage pickup, but none of that mattered. He was following his heart’s call now; he let the slackening of his bindings guide his every step.

“Heavy! Please slow down!” Miss Pauling yelled, but the giant had blocked her out a long time ago.

There was only one voice he was willing to let in now. He pushed past a group of adults with the tiniest apology as he charged up the stairs. If he were anywhere else, he would have most likely been stared at and thrown out by security. In the chaos of the airport, everyone assumed he was simply running to reunite with a loved one.

An opening in the crowds.

Everything went silent.

The world slowed down.

Mikhail spotted him, his soulmate across the grand building. He was more handsome than he could have ever imagined, and although he didn’t know it yet, Ludwig also firmly believed that he had just encountered an angel.

The soulstring unraveled and landed on the ground.

All remaining distance between them was covered in a second. The force of the impact sent them to the ground, but neither of them cared. Arms wrapped around strong bodies, tears spilled out of adoring eyes, and lips whispered the pledges of love they had so desperately longed to hear.

At last, Mikhail and Ludwig were home.

#tf2 #heavymedic #fanfiction #soulmates

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

— a life in your shape

pairing : jean kirschtein / reader

word count : 2.5k

tags : unrequited love, pining, near death experience, confession of love, hurt no comfort lol

warnings : canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : you've always wanted it, always pictured it, always ached for it. you loved when jean looked you way. all you'd ever wanted was a life with him, not just a life in his shape.

— originally posted 1 / 22 / 21 on ao3 —

the mess hall was buzzing with life, rowdy with the chatter of dozens of cadets seated at long tables and speaking through swallows of their food. glasses were lifted and set down, bowls and plates clinking, utensils scraping sharply over various surfaces, nearly so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. but it all seemed to come to an abrupt silence when you settled your eyes back on him, taking in his formerly pale complexion now bronzy and sun-kissed from your hours of training, the annoyed yet playful glances he shot to connie and sasha as he worked through his soup and bread, full lips forming words that you couldn’t quite focus.

you were almost embarrassed of how smitten you were with jean, but in your mind, you couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't be taken with him. his thin frame had filled out with lean muscle in the year and a half that you'd been training together in the 104th corp, somehow managing to grow even taller than he already was on that first day, still so spirited with his persistence to be among the best of this class, a lively spark that never seemed to dampen gleaming behind his eyes.

"oh god, this again, jean?" you heard connie bemoan exaggeratedly, pulling you from the trance that you were surprised the other three at the table hadn't taken notice of.

jean was almost pouting now, and you would've found it so endearing had it not been the next words to spill from his mouth, indignant and full of tenacity. "don't be an ass, i've been trying to figure out a good excuse to sit with her for days now."

you followed his gaze despite knowing exactly who you'd find his eyes locked on, and forced yourself not to frown when you were met with the sight of mikasa just a few tables away.

"she's out of your league, man. not to mention having a thing for jaeger already, and not to mention that jaeger wouldn't hesitate to hand your ass to you again if you pissed him off like you always do. cut it out."

"connie, that's mean!" sasha feigned offense on jean's behalf, most likely for the sake of goading the reply that came as a distraction to snatch the remainder of bread from his plate.

"i'm just being honest with him here. he's asking for advice, so i gave him some. jean always talks about being realist and yet he— hey is that my food?!"

you turned away just as connie was lunging himself across the table, hearing the sounds of his fruitless efforts to tear the loaf from the girl's mouth, propping yourself up on your elbows and allowing your head to fall into your hands with a heavy sigh.

"what do you think?" in an instant, jean's eyes were on you, amber irises looking so intently at you that you could already feel a bothersome heat flushing your face. but registering his question sobered you, and stealing a glance at the beautiful dark-haired girl seated somewhere to your left was all in took to snuff out the light flutter in your chest.

"i don't know, jean. i think connie's kind of right about the whole eren thing." you were honest with him on a surface level, but it still didn't feel good to see him frown when you told him something he obviously didn't want to hear. you tried to remedy it by offering something more introspective—something a bit more true to your heart. "what i mean is that.. i think you're selling yourself short. mikasa obviously has her sights set elsewhere at the moment, and i just think you deserve someone who can bring the same sort of.." you struggled with your words for a moment, how could you not when he was leaning forward like that, listening so intently to you and you alone. "the same sort of passion. someone who can reciprocate." someone like me. but you bit those foolish words back.

"you understand, don't you?" he implored, looking past the bickering mess that sasha and connie had devolved to and gazing with such longing in the other girl's direction, "i mean.. i've never seen anyone like her, no one as beautiful.." each word gouged at your heart, a cold, empty sensation that left your chest feeling painfully hollow. "i know you're a girl, but you can see it too, right?"

you could see it, you were painfully aware of how you could never match up to her unfamiliar yet alluring features, that graceful, slender frame that could somehow soar through the air with ease and still thrown you down onto your back so hard it would knock the wind out of you, introversion that gave off such a charming air of mystery to her admirers.

"yeah," you mumbled back, ignoring how a huffing connie fell heavily back into his seat beside jean, defeated, sasha happily gulping down her unfairly earned chunk of bread, only taking notice of how jean was too fixated on mikasa to pay your dismay any mind, "i see it alright."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the air was thick with an unrelenting heat, stinking of steam and coppery with fresh blood, your vision fading in and out. your head was ringing with a deafening, high pitched peal and such an unbearable, crippling pain. you could feel your boots dragging across the hot dry dirt as something tugged you back by the collar of your shirt, and the terror of a titan with its misshaped limbs and mouth hauling you to your demise made you thrash aimlessly, screams for help spilling out as a disjointed groan of pain. and though it almost sounded as if you were underwater, sinking further and further beneath the lapping waves of your impending unconscious, you heard it, muffled, desperate, thick with tears, your name spilling from his lips.

and suddenly you remembered, you remembered the kidnapping and the unfaithful comrades and the mission to save humanity's last hope, your former friend now an almost unrecognizable abomination with ymir, bertholdt, and eren sitting atop his shoulders, clasped in his monstrous hands, that had now resorted to flinging titans in his primal desperation for escape. and as you blinked away the spots blacking out your vision, head lolling uselessly to the side, you could see your horse, half crushed in a puddle of red on the yellow grass, and realized that the warmth streaming down the side of your face is your own blood.

"jean..?" you mumbled, uselessly, barely coherent, but the near sob of relief from behind you is like an anchor back to reality.

you could see his calves on either side of you, feet kicking up clouds of dust as he pushed you both back, further from the fray and carnage, as far as he could muster. one of your blade scabbards was missing, you could feel that the clip on your gas tank had snapped off in your spectacular fall caused by the titan that was flung down in your path, irreparable damage most likely made to the fine mechanisms within the housing of your gear. you felt utterly hopeless, watching as the shade of a tree just barely shielded you from the blazing light of the sinking sun, hearing jean's gasping pants from behind you, feeling how rapidly his chest was rising and falling against the back of your head as you slumped into his body, leaden limbs weighing you down uselessly.

"jean." you wheezed, trying desperately to crane your heavy head back to meet his eyes one last time, eyes that no longer harbored the naive passion of youth but still gleamed so radiantly, "leave me.. here. you're g'nna— gonna die.. if you stay..."

you could feel his violent trembles now, feel him rip his green cloak from his shoulder to press against the throbbing wound on your head. "no. i-i'm staying. i n-n-need," he was scared, you knew he was terrified of allowing what happened to marco to happen to you, or sasha, or connie, or anybody, even if the boy's death was nowhere near his fault, "i need to s-save you."

but you could also feel something else—feel it coming—the terrible, earth trembling footfalls of a titan making a shambling, uncoordinated advance to you and the scent of your blood. and suddenly jean was screaming, a sound so raw and petrified that you couldn't help but cry yourself at the sound of it. he laid you down on the ground, bunched cloak pillowing your bleeding skull, unable to push himself to his feet but still drawing his last blade to swing at the thing coming to kill you both, covering your battered body with his own.

and in that moment, you hated yourself. though your head was swimming and your lucidity was waning, you knew that you would both die there, under the baking sun and in the jaws of a titan, and it would be your fault. every regret that you'd ever harbored flooded your mind: not hugging your mother long enough when you still had the chance, not drinking that liquor when squad leader hange had offered it to you, and, most of all, never having the bravery to be honest with jean.

and you mourned all that lost time in those final moments, every late night you'd spent as trainees under the stars when you and your friends would sneak out of the dormitories to talk at some ungodly hour, every shared meal where you didn't speak nearly enough to him, every second of the crushing embraces you'd offered each other when the thought of your fallen friends caught up to you and proved to be far too much to handle on your own. how could you have done so much yet so little with your life?

and just as the titan was stumbling upon you, jean's scream of terror dampening out into a faithless cry, the thing was gone, galloping away to join a newly assembled horde descending upon one single point on the plain. but somehow, you felt no relief, not as you reached out a weak, trembled hand to grasp the blood and dirt streaked fabric of his shirt.

and as he turned to you, eyes still wide and body shaking with horror, thrumming with the adrenaline of near-death, you whispered, hoarse and tired as your grasp on the world slipped away. "i love you, jean. i love you."

your eyes fell shut, the involuntary spiral down further and further into the deep waters of unconsciousness pulling you in deeper and deeper by the second. you were grateful that you at least got to say something meaningful as your last words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there was a bright light, delicate, billowing fabric flouncing about in your bleary gaze as your eyes barely opened, something wrapped tight around your head, not making the pressure of the pounding headache any better. you couldn't fight the groan that even the small movement of turning onto your back caused, but you tried to force your lids open just an inch more at the sound of a gasp coming from somewhere in the room.

there were fast footsteps, a few shouts of "sasha, no!" and then a crushing weight on your chest, squeezing around you, pulling you up in bed as a tearful sob of your name came from a comfortingly familiar voice.

"sasha. please. h-hurts." you barely managed to croak out, feeling yourself been torn free—or rather, her torn away—as connie yelled.

"get off them, you moron, they're fucking injured!!"

"i'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, allowing herself to be dragged to the door by the disgruntled boy, "i'm j-just so happy you're s-s-still alive!!!"

"and i am too, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna go throw myself on top of them while they're in the hospital!"

their bickering was almost comforting in a way, allowing the strain in your chest from sasha's hug to ease as you watched them elbow each other in the sides on their way out of the room to take their loudness out into the hall, blowing raspberries and struggling to not laugh through their feigned anger. and finally your gaze was allowed to wander over to the furthest wall from your bed, and you saw jean, staring down at his shoes, brow furrowed and lip bitten. and he seemed almost startled to find yourself in his gaze, feet slowly taking him to your side.

"i owe you my life, you know?" you said as he settled himself on the edge of the mattress, still not meeting your gaze.

"you don't owe me anything. you shouldn't feel in debt to me."

"but i do," you risked to settle your hand over his, finally drawing his worried, amber eyes onto yours, and you could feel your heart beginning to pick up, the butterflies that you had always forced to settle with a pessimistic thought to squash your optimism light in your chest, "i meant what i said before i passed out in the field. i always have."

and for just a moment, you thought that this was finally it, that you would no longer have to languish over wasted time and wasted words, fingers just barely curling around his warm palm. then, a knock at the door, light and delicate before the handle turned, pushing open to reveal mikasa.

and you caught every small movement of jean's features, the way his eyes sparked with a familiar light, the sudden, faint flush of color across his slender face, lips parting and just barely perking up at the ends. an endless, unwavering adoration.

"eren is awake, if you'd like to talk to him." that was all she had peeked in to say, but jean was still gazing at the door for a moment too long after she'd left.

"u-um.. if you don't mind—"

"go ahead." you told him, gently, pulling your hand away, retreating as far as your body could into the mattress, under the covers, turning your gaze away.

and though he'd slowly, almost nervously exited your room, you could hear the clear pick-up in his pace as soon as he'd shut the door behind him and exited into the hall, probably rushing to try and catch mikasa for a moment alone in the hallway before he had to share her attention with everyone else.

and it hurt, like a blade buried between your ribs, being jerked and twisted with every memory of his affinity, the one that was never directed at you despite how you craved it. and you'd realized that you had melded a life in his shape, a life where you were always just a few steps too far behind, hand outstretched, reaching for him as you hurried to grasp at any minuscule opportunity to be with him, speak to him, hear his laugh and see his near blinding smiles that never seemed to last long enough to you.

but, perhaps one day, someday farther into the future. and if not then, maybe in another life.

#jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein angst #jean kirstein angst #snk x reader #snk x you #aot x reader #aot x you #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction

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itstimetotheorize · 3 years

Text

The Signal Towers forever unfinished meal, a sudden loss in control

We have always theorized that the tower eats the souls of the viewers until they are left as nothing more than empty husks who are ready to take their own lives. The viewers... are forever meant to be lost within the tvs perfect false world, until they are fated to pay the ultimate price for their viewership, the price being of course... their bodies and souls!

Fans have always suspected that the bodies of the viewers were sucked through the tvs in order to be added to the giant flesh mass within the tower, However, later on, many of us began to speculate that the viewers might have only been added to the body of a much larger creature and that the giant eyes seen near the end of the game were never part of the various viewers within the pale city, these giant eyes...could very well have been an entity of their own!

If this mass of flesh and eyes was the true culprit behind the destruction of the pale city then perhaps despite its many victims, the thin man was the one exception to its hunger. Due to its reliance on the thin mans powers, many of us had assumed that the eye chose to keep him locked away deep within its many layers of walls, halls, stairs and rooms in an effort to corrupt his mind and force him to do its terrible bidding .

And yet something doesn't make sense...of all the enemies that were seen throughout the game, the thin man was the only one shown with a thin and frail body. The hunter, the teacher, the doctor and the viewers were all quite fat when compared to the thin man, but why? Everyone within the city was fated to be fattened and distorted until the time came for them to be consumed by the tower, so why was the thin man the only one who was so... thin?!....unless....his fate was not much different than theirs.....but still different in its own way...

Where am I gong with this?... well, when we see thin man, he is noted to spend the majority of his life sitting in a tiny room somewhere deep within the tower.

As thin man ages over time, several of us began to notice something odd, something that was so obvious to begin with that we didn't even bother to question it at the time....The tiny room that held the thin man prisoner... may not have been just a room!...but else could it have been?

well, before monos power was used to restore the eye entity to its original tower form, the area he was trapped in was technically still nothing more that a part of its body!.

Considering that mono fell deep within the depths of towers flesh, this room could very well have been symbolized to not only be monos life long prison...but a space that would forever remain empty...a space that could never be filled by just anyone. If we think of the tower as a body with its own organs in the form of different rooms, then what if the tiny room we saw mono imprisoned in...was symbolized to be the Towers own stomach!.

Many of us had originally theorized that perhaps the thin mans energy and soul were no exception to the eye entities wrath. If this is true then this would mean that unlike the rest of the viewers who were forced to wait until their time came to be fully consumed by the eye, the thin man was forever doomed to be slowly eaten away by the tower as his power was used to send out its transmission to the rest of the world!. If the room is truly the towers stomach then this would mean that with each passing year, the tower slowly ate away a little more of the thin mans body and soul, until eventfully, he became nothing more than the thin, frail old man that we saw him as in the game. The thin man...may have been truly trapped within “the belly of the beast” this entire time!

However, unlike the rest of its victims, its possible that the eye restrained itself from adding the thin man to its fleshy body, why exactly would it do that? because it needs the thin man to continue living of course!. It is the thin mans power that allows it to spread its hypnotic spell throughout the tvs of the world

So then, what if unlike the rest of its victims, the eye looked upon the thin man not as a dish that should be eaten whole, but rather as a meal that should never be finished! After all, If it is to continue in its never ending desire to feast upon the world, then it needs the thin man to exist and allow its vicious cycle of consumption to continue. Rather than leave the thin man to the same fate as the other residents of the world, the eye could very well have chosen to throw a piece of him up, out of its stomach and back out into the world in order to feast upon his newly born flesh and soul over and over again, that newly born form being of course...MONO.... and as he continues to relive a new life outside the tower, the one piece of his “remains” continues to suffer within the tower itself.

Yes, it truly seems as though nothing can stop this horrific force of flesh and eyes, the world is forever there to be consumed by it, through the use of others.... nothing can ever hope to stand in its way, it is in control …or is it?....

On April 1, 2021, the twitter page became increasingly active , however, it was not acting like its normal hauntingly scary self as it presented a “new game”

Naturally this was supposed to be an April fools joke to the public. However, despite this, many fans began to question why the twitter needed to act as someone else... just to present a joke? it could have very easily done this with out changing its tone.

As the day went on and as we continued to view a variety of goofy replies, something bizarre occurred, once April fools day came to a close.

The original twitter page was coming back!... but something felt off... rather than take back the twitter page to its original form, it was almost as if it was struggling to take back the account from some foreign entity. For those that do not have a twitter page or have gone through every single comment on the account, you should know that many of us have come to realize that the holder of the account could very well have been the flesh void within the tower, in other words, the twitter page was a representation of the eye entity itself communicating with the public!

As April fools ended, the original twitter page took back control of the account...albeit in an a horrifying manner.

Naturally, the strangeness didn't end just then and there, of all the things to say to the public to explain the sudden and bizarre change in the twitter accounts activity, the original twitter page simply stated that a “rogue signal” interfered with its communication.

Despite the fans delight in welcoming back the original twitter and being done with April fools, the twitter decided to instead continue with the recipe contest in an effort to select a winner. As the contest ended the twitter revealed to everyone that it had taken everyones joke recipes and had tried them out for itself. In an ironic turn of events, the twitters favorite dish was revealed to be a mono’s soup!...what's most peculiar about its choice of dish was how it commented that this soup was “Nearly as good as eating the real mono”!

If the twitter page is a representation of the eye entity within the tower and if the tower is truly feasting upon the viewers of the world... then does this mean that the thin man is also just another part of its meal?...maybe..... And I know what you are thinking, “this was just an April fools joke, just something to make fun at”...but what if it wasn't?...ever since the release of little nightmares 2, the twitter page began to hint at certain details of the game in the form of cryptic messages.

The twitter page has even stated to us, on multiple occasions, that it lives to make us suffer, it is the one who is in control and we are nothing more than soon to be residents of its world that will be infected with escapism,

There is no way of escape....and yet... how was it that a “rogue signal” was capable of interfering with its control? unless....something BIG interfered!?.... but who or rather what could have possibly been powerful enough to resist or even fight against the eyes control? Of all the times to present such a struggle for control, why chose now?.... unless....has their been a shift in power within the little nightmares world?... If so, then what the heck is it, or rather, what caused it!? We may not know what it was right now, but something lead the eye entity to lose its grip on the false reality it had maintained for thousands of years......was it mono?... or is it something that has just entered the range of the pale city?..... I guess we will just have to wait and see...for now that’s just a theory, a little nightmares II theory!

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

🤬 | seokjin

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ frenemy!seokjin ft. e2l and the magnificent get-along sweater | 2K words → a/n: this is dedicated to my homie @jincherie who has been, as they say, wiping her ass everyday only to shit again. i can’t really do much to actually alleviate your circumstances except maybe making you smile, so i hope this can be your tiny ray of sunshine amidst the crap. this fic literally makes no sense because i wrote this within one hour so i’m sorry but pls know that ilysm!!

“Where’d you even fucking get this abomination?” you growl, struggling fruitlessly against the coarse fabric. In your fidgeting, your elbow knocks into Seokjin’s broad chest, causing more damage to your weak joints than anything. Even so, Seokjin grunts overdramatically, stepping on your toes in retaliation.

“Yoongi-chi, you know that I love you very much—” Seokjin seethes, his teeth clenched almost painfully as he fights to restrain himself from ripping the sweater in half, a la Hulk style. “—but I will not hesitate to stab you once I get out of here.”

“Not my fault that you both are acting like a bunch of toddlers,” Yoongi snorts, hip jutted out in contempt like the homosexual that he is. “And to answer your other question, I bought that sweater online after your last fight, when you two were literally wrestling on the kitchen counter. I didn’t know whether I walked into some intense BDSM play or a WWE ring.”

“You bought a fucking get-along sweater for us? What are you, some sort of Christian camp counselor?” you growl, kicking your legs out in an attempt to hit him. The slimy twink bastard jumps away gracefully, landing onto the loveseat opposite the couch that you were sitting on. He crosses his legs, opening his arms wide when your traitorous cat jumps onto his lap, looking to all the world like a terrible Bond villain from the 80s.

“If I was Christian, I would not put the two of you into a sweater together,” Yoongi says. He strokes your cat, who purrs loudly before pointing a contemptuous glare back at you, as if she was enjoying your torture too. Dumb cat. You never liked Miko anyway.

Yoongi continues, “Anyone would two eyes knows that you both are just one brawl away from fucking each other into the next dimension. Lord knows that your sexual tension could power the entire city.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to snort, who has been relatively quiet in comparison to you. He’s also less fidgety, but that might be because he at least has the advantage and comfort of occupying 90% of the sweater space due to his oceanic shoulders. You once described him as “horizontally imbalanced,” which he did not find slightly amusing.

“I would rather place my balls into a panini press and feed them to Miko than to ever fuck Y/N,” Seokjin fake-gags, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “It would be less hot for me to actually grill my penis than for me to sink into her hell-ish cunt. I swear, you could bake bread in there with how much yeast has accumulated from—“

You headbutt his chin before he can finish, squawking indignantly. The satisfying sound of his teeth clacking together in pain is momentary but worthwhile. “Excuse you, but it’d be an honor to fuck me! I’ve got that S-tier pussy! If my pussy was in a gacha game, people would spend thousands of dollars just to roll for my mystical coochie!”

Yoongi smirks. “So you admit that you do want Seokjin to fuck you!”

“What the fuck! No! That is—what the—I don’t!” You stammer, face flushing as you struggle to regain your footing in the conversation. Yoongi’s eyebrow raises, intrigued by your slip-up. “That is totally not what I meant, and you know it!”

Yoongi picks at his nails, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, I don’t speak hetero. Prithee, explain thy peculiar mating rituals to one who does not walk the straight and narrow path.”

You slump back against the couch, forcing Seokjin to follow and fall backward with you. His shoulder hits you square in the boob, causing you to groan in pain. “Yoongi, just let us out of this thing before I lose a limb to this walking inflatable tubeman,” you plead, ignoring Seokjin’s glare.

“I resent that,” Seokjin inputs, but no one pays him any mind. Your attention is focused solely on the smirking kitty man in front of you, who grows smugger as time ticks on.

Everyone in your friend group is aware of the weird relationship you have with Seokjin. Ever since you met him in your freshman year of university, things were never peaceful between the two of you. It was always constant bickering, squabbling, competing… everything. Even Jungkook, Seokjin’s other sworn enemy, doesn’t argue with the elder as much as you did.

For three years, everyone just assumed it was your weird kindergarten schoolyard way of showing affection for each other, and at the beginning, it might have been. You and Seokjin, both of whom have never dated in their lifetimes despite being moderately popular while growing up, are unsurprisingly emotionally stunted and never learned how to just be nice to people you like. Affection who? Compassion where? To the both of you, physical connection can only be achieved through hair tugging and nipple pinching, and not even in the sexy way.

But at a certain point, things were starting to get tiring. Your arguments only grew larger in scale, to the point where it was getting hard to differentiate whether the bruises on your neck were from pinches or something else.

“I just… Ugh… When are they gonna fuck, hyung? I’m actually getting tired of their constant fighting,” Namjoon had lamented one afternoon, just a day after your last altercation with Seokjin. It had been a big one, where Seokjin nearly lost a tooth when you had landed a neat uppercut squarely on his jaw after he called your toes ‘a foot fetishist’s worst nightmare.’

Yoongi’s boyfriend had been staring listlessly into his bowl of soup for the past hour, and he was honestly starting to get worried when it looked like Namjoon had started muttering to himself in a foreign language. Yoongi almost thought he might have been scrying for a prophecy, begging for an answer to their most pressing question.

“What do you want me to do about it? Lock them in a room and let them out only after they’ve done the deed? Mixed bodily fluids? Performed the monkey dance to its climax?! No thanks, I don’t wanna be near them when that can of worms finally explodes,” Yoongi grimaced, shivering at the thought.

Namjoon shook his head quickly, face paling with him. “Heaven forbid. Maybe you can keep it PG? How about getting one of those get-along sweaters or something. I think they used those in kindergarten.”

Yoongi sighed. “Yeah, but the question would be how I’d get them into it.” He flaps his noodle arms around in demonstration. “I’m not exactly in the running for world’s strongest twink. Plus, years of fighting each other means they’re both stronger than I am.”

Namjoon shrugged. “Easy, just dare them to wear it. Make it into a competition. Nothing gets them more riled up than when they’re trying to outcompete each other.”

And so, that’s how the two of you had gotten stuck in a 3XXL Hello Kitty sweater that Yoongi had bought from Ebay. It has yet to be decided whether spending $40 on expedited shipping was worth it.

“Look, Yoongi-chi. We both promise that we will stop fighting once you let us out of this,” Seokjin says, smiling sweetly at him. Had Yoongi been younger and much more prone to the alluring temptation of the Straight Man™️, he might have caved. But Yoongi is older now, plus he knows when Seokjin is lying better than any polygraph test.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving him off. “Fat chance. You’d probably stop fighting for approximately three hours before getting mad about mint chocolate ice cream or something.”

“Hey! Give us some credit. We both agree that flavor is abhorrent, so we would never argue about that,” you retort, with Seokjin nodding furiously in agreement. You glance at him. “And I feel like we’d last at least six hours without fighting. What was our record again?”

“Five hours and twenty-two minutes,” Seokjin says.

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay, I can promise at least five hours and thirty minutes. Maybe.”

Yoongi groans, rubbing his temples in frustration. His souring mood even makes Miko jump away in fright, and the two idiots trapped in a sweater can immediately feel the dip in temperature. Uh oh, here we go!

“I am absolutely sick and tired of the two of you dumbasses fighting all the time! It’s embarrassing as hell trying to bring either of you anywhere in public because everyone mistakes your little catfights for strange foreplay or whatever,” Yoongi glowers. The two of you shrink into your seats, ashamed.

“We’ve only gotten kicked out of one Costco—” Seokjin defends.

“But we did get fined for public indecency at the beach when I pulled your trunks down, which was totally unfair, by the way,” you mutter.

“You literally threatened to, and I quote, ‘Suck the soul out of Seokjin’s dick until he dies.’ How the hell is that unfair?!” Yoongi exclaims.

“It was a death threat! I would’ve accepted a charge for attempted murder, but that was not going to be a sexy blowjob, I assure you—”

Yoongi holds up a hand to silence you. “Face it, you both like each other. Whatever! Sure, you guys are the token straight people in our friend group, but that doesn’t make you bland as hell! Well, actually, it does but…” Yoongi pauses, wondering if it was worth lying. It takes a second for him to refocus. “Where was I? Oh right—“

Yoongi clears his throat, starting again. He heaves a deep breath, shoulders sagging tiredly as he puts on the sincerest face he can muster. “Listen, I just want to say that I care a lot about you, okay? And it sucks seeing the both of you hurting every time the other person says something really mean that neither of you even mean! If anything, will you please stop for me? If you really cared about our friendship, will you do it for me?”

There is a heavy pause as Yoongi strives to get his breathing back in check, his impassioned speech causing his fragile grandpa heart to race. He can feel his cheeks darkening in embarrassment, unused to using his “hyung voice” on Seokjin or you. Separately, the two of you are very reliable, never really needing him to scold either of you. Together, however… that’s a different story, but as the next eldest hyung, it really only fell to Yoongi to fix his friends’ mess of a relationship.

Screw age hierarchy. Yoongi would love to see Jungkook try to get Seokjin and you to fuck. Would absolutely pay to see the twerp squirm as he tries to even say the word “penis.”

After a while, Seokjin and you share a look. Yoongi watches with bated breath as he waits for either of you to speak, but he can sense some unspoken conversation happening between you. Perhaps, after years of exchanging blows, you had somehow knocked brain cells into each other and now share a weird psychic connection. Or, more likely, the two of you actually like each other and understand each other on a deeply personal level, so personal in fact that you could probably finish each other’s sentences, like—!

“We refuse,” you both reply in tandem, your joined voices echoing throughout the apartment. You both had said it so in sync that Yoongi might have imagined the other person speaking, but no—you both really did just say that to his face. In front of Miko. In front of his goddamn imaginary salad.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi squeaks. He cleans his ears with his fingers but finds no cotton there. These bitches! How dare they just throw his speech to the gutter! That shit took brain cells to think of, and he is not in the business of wasting his precious minutes by using them for productivity.

You shrug, leaning against Seokjin’s shoulder. He can see the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s confusion. “You heard us. We’ve made the executive decision to double our efforts, actually.”

Seokjin nods, not even shoving you off his shoulder like he normally would whenever you made contact with him. What? “Exactly. Honestly, we’ve been fighting for so long that we’ve kinda been just doing it for the bit at this point, and the fact that it annoys you so much is just the icing on the cake.”

Yoongi stares at them. His brain doesn’t feel like it’s connecting to his body at all; he feels like he’s floating. “So. What you’re saying is—“

“We know we like each other. Whatever. But we also like fighting, so who gives a shit if we’re having fun at the end of the day?” you shrug, pinching Seokjin’s cheek for good measure. As per usual, the elder retaliates by grabbing your finger with robot-like accuracy, before biting you there like a ravaging beast.

“And before you ask, no, we aren’t really dating. Yet. We kinda just wanted to piss as many people off before actually becoming official. We honestly didn’t think that you’d be the first one to crack.” Seokjin says, your finger falling from his mouth. The imprint of his teeth marks on your skin are plain as day, but you don’t look remotely bothered by it. In fact, you’re practically cooing at his ‘baby teefies’ like a psychopath.

“I—“ Yoongi stutters, at a loss for words for once in his life. He stands from the chair, but his knees give out from under him, causing him to tumble to the carpeted floor. He holds his head in his hands, shell-shocked. “So… That means…”

“Yeah, we’re kinda just freaky, I guess.” You muse before laughing hysterically when Yoongi begins to sob. “Hey, you’re right! We did make Yoongi cry! Do you think we could make Namjoon piss himself in rage when he finally confronts us too?”

Seokjin cackles, shaking your hand underneath the sweater. “If anyone can do it, I know that we can.”

And so, the two of you stand up clumsily to your feet, not bothering to escape the ridiculous sweater as you both waddled out of Yoongi’s apartment. From outside his door, Yoongi hears the sound of a new fight commencing, your shrieks resonating down the hall and for all the world to hear.

#btsghostie #bts scenarios #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts humor #e2l #kim seokjin #seokjin scenarios #jin scenarios #bangtan #bts fanfic #the sleep deprived series

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runedwishes-a · 3 years

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Naven Fae HCs (And Epithets 101!)

((OKAY finally home and ready to sit down and get these down somewhere. These headcanons deal with EPITHET ERASED AND ANIME CAMPAIGN SPOILERS. Long read, More under the cut!))

So! If you haven’t read NAVEN’S SUPER SECRET PAGE SOMEWHERE ON HIS PROFILE, or if you have no idea what the heck Epithet Erased’s world lore is, I’ll just briefly go over all that right now.

In Epithet Erased and it’s source material, Anime Campaign, everyone in this world has a 1-in-5 chance of being born with a word etched into their very souls. This word, whatever it may be, then gives them magical superpowers, ranging from basic and silly things like summoning fire or soup, to having control over CRAZY and abstract concepts like time and space--these are called Epithets! People that have Epithets are called Inscribed, while people that do not have them are called Mundies, short for Mundane. There’s a whole list of rules that apply to the Epithet universe riiiight over here on the creator’s Tumblr. ((I myself have yet to go through all of them so keep in mind that for this blog, perhaps not everything on there will be canon to my interpretation of Naven, Zora, Yoomtah, ect, as they are canon divergent.))

Epithet Erased’s magic system functions quite like a TTRPG would (mostly because it IS based off of the TTRPG format it was created on), and one way to strengthen yourself and your Epithet was correctly guessing someone ELSE’S Epithet. This is important to Naven’s whole...deal, which! Is who I’m going to focus on!

Naven’s Epithet is Flashback, which gives him the power to see and manipulate people’s memories, along with some other crazy powers that come along with that. His Epithet essentially made him a mind reader/psychic, which...made it SUPER easy to guess Epithets, which quickly made him into one of the most POWERFUL Inscribed in his world. After a certain...incident, though...Naven lost control of his powers and now is forced to read the entire life stories of anyone and everyone he meets! Not fun!

Epithets, as they become stronger, start to physically manifest on an Inscribed’s body, (See Zora and her sun-themed tattoos) and this differs from person to person and Epithet to Epithet. Naven is no exception! As memories are at the core of his Epithet, his own memories influence how his physical manifestations of his Epithet appear on his body.

And it just so happens that he really enjoyed all those fairy tales and Disney-esque stories his parents used to read to him when he was younger. They’re perhaps the most fonder memories he has of his childhood, and via his Epithet, this basically gives them power. Thus! Long story short, his Epithet basically turned him into a Fae. Probably the closest thing I can classify him as is a grown up Changeling.

So what does this mean, exactly?

Well, for starters, Naven may look very human on the outside, but aside from the obvious kaleidoscope eyes, there are other little inhumane features if you knew where to look. His ears are just a TAD pointer than normal if you squint, canines just a touch sharper than normal when he smiles, and he always smells like something pleasant and familiar, like flowers--there’s a very, VERY subtle aura of allure to him. You could argue its like a glamour of sorts, but it doesn’t have so much sway that it makes people instantly like him, per say--it just makes first impressions more likely to be positive. This isn’t something he can control, either.

There IS another big physical change he has, though--Naven has wings. Big fairy wings! Here’s a picture Jello drew that depics them a little more clearly.

Lookit him. Smol.

These wings are iridescent and can fold in a way so that he can hide them under his clothes. He can fly with them, but not for long periods of time--and they’re delicate, too, but luckily they heal themselves fairly quickly. (especially under moonlight) Strangely, they don’t seem to hold a consistent pattern, but the iridescent hue is constant.

Aside from physical changes, Naven’s behavior is prone to fae-like tendencies. While he isn’t a trickster sort by any means, nor is he...entirely malicious by nature, these traits tend to show themselves whenever he is being hospitable and generous to someone else. He loves to give gifts, be a good host, share in the joys of music and singing, impart knowledge...the list goes on. He’s a very fair and reasonable man, and knowing how people WORK and what they want has also lent itself nicely to the business side of things. His use of exact wordings and savviness with the art of the deal has rightly earned him his place amongst his world’s most wealthiest.

Not...everything is all sunshine and rainbows when dealing with Fae, though. Naven is very tolerant and patient up to a point. You’d REALLY have to go out of your way to invoke the less pleasant sides of him. Thanks to his powers, it is pretty much impossible to lie to him unless you had some counteractive powers of your own, (or if you’re a robot/cyborg with robot stuff in your brain), so any insidious act you try to put up with him to get on his good side? He’ll see RIGHT through your bullshit and CALL YOU THE HELL OUT ON IT if you deserve it. All with a smile on his face. He never raises his voice or becomes visibly angry, because why should he waste the energy? If anything, his anger is more of a cold sort.

The way he sees it, if you haven’t taken his advice or his generosity, or worse, even SPIT in the face of it, well...that’s your fault, isn’t it? Didn’t ANYONE teach you manners? Maybe someone should remind you! : )

Basically don’t be a dick to Naven and he will not mess up/curse your memories! ((Note: you and your muse are absolutely allowed to be a dick to Naven if that is within their character!))

I’m pretty sure this’ll be it for now. Thanks for reading this far!!

#{Headcanons}#((WOW THIS GOT LONG....)

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sly-merlin · 4 years

Text

killing me - 10 |n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au , smut

warnings of this chapter : cursing, explanatory mention of a pistol!

words :: 5.3k

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

taglist :: @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct @hyuckiesgf @theworld-accordingtocasey @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @suhweo @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424

@kafenetwork @neowritingsnet

K.M masterlist

k.m9 next

Previous night

“What the fuck were you spitting out there hmm! Have you lost your mind? Why aren’t you answering me you shit!”

jaehyun avoided prying when mark and yuta were arguing but he couldn’t keep it in anymore. mark shifted the gears to park the car in the middle of nowhere, tense silence hugging all of them. jaemin was annoyed with jaehyun’s endless remarks at mark but it was hyuck who was most confused as he was unable to form any kind of judgement.

“why did you stop the car now? Its midnight-

“can you stop drunk talking hyung. I can’t drive like this!”

“I’m very sober. Its you whose brain is dead mark. Did you even notice yuta’s face when you-

“just stop hyung. I’m not ashamed of what I said there. I stand by each and every word! Now can we go back home or do you have anything else?

“you can’t be real! He has done so much for you all these years and this is how you repa-

“yes exactly! He has made so many sacrifices for me all these years, that’s why its my responsibility to show him the right way that he is clearly not following at all and you all are partly responsible for it! You are feeding his selfish ego by showing him hollow sympathy but that’s gonna bite him in the ass at end.”

“woah woah tiger. So what you gonna do? Instruct him how to live his life. Are you making him realise that he doesn’t hate y/n when he clearly cant stand her presence for even a minute and by some miracle, even if you end up pacifying yuta, then what about that cold hearted queen! She’s just here t-

“she is not here on her own! And I am not going to repeat myself, so fix it in your head hyung. She is not here to replace anyone!! Yuta hyung just hates the thought of her coerced and fortuitous presence in his life and I’m not trying to create a miracle here. I just want our lives back to normal and I’ll go to every extent to make it possible!” his chest heaved up and down as the anger subsided a bit, his heart feeling at ease after getting his thoughts out. Jaehyun only scoffed at him.

“you are too naïve markie. This is not how emotions work.”

“this is the only way emotions work hyung!” with that said, he shifted the gear, driving on the road with the same silence lurking again but he felt better. much better.

“who do you think is right?” hyuck whispered in jaemin’s ear, in the hope that he would solve his dilemma.

“I don’t know but I’d love if she stays forever. We are missing one member anyway” he whispered back earning a small tight lip smile from donghyuck who fell into a deep slumber right after that.

Slowly he moved himself to the other side, bruised elbow secured in his hand, grunts exiting him. You knew you were fucked up as soon as his cold eyes fell upon you.

“I guess it’s my time to call taeyong.” He glared, the strong eye contact not lasting for too long as he tried to lift himself up from the floor.

Meanwhile you kept observing him, biting your left thumb, feet glued to the ground. your eyes followed his hobbled travel from the kitchen to the couches from where you heard his long sigh of relief as he placed his leg on the table while stroking his knee. his head fell on the couches and suddenly your conscience kicked in while watching his painful expressions. You found yourself sluggishly walking out of the kitchen with careful steps to avoid the spill, sleepiness fading away.

Yuta’s scraped elbow was in the vision as you neared him. He was still nursing his knee, elbow forgotten by now. Maybe it was the momentary pain! you deliberated about asking him first but then remembered that you don’t have to communicate with him to show that you were still human! So you quietly went to bathroom to find your first aid kit that you placed somewhere the day you settled your stuff. It was not easy to locate it with the lack of cooperation of your hands and mind in the current state, but still you tried your best.

With same motion you went back. Yuta’s hand was still cupping the knee but his features seemed to be much more peaceful than before. But you still approached hesitantly and placed the box on the table, near his foot.

“have a seat please. We have some unfinished business here beautiful!” he sneered, signalling you to sit beside him.

“no thanks. I have work to do.” You tiredly replied, moving away.

“I.Said.Sit.Here! I also wanna experience the thrill of whinning like a baby!

“oh please , I have nothing to fear! Just call him already. I’ve work to do!” you told him in stern voice while circling the table to sit far away from him.

Yuta smirked a little at your show of bravery when anyone could see right through you at the moment. Your eyes were half shut, shoulders slumped down but still upright when it came to fighting him. But yuta clearly knew he had the upper hand this time.

Or he thought!

Your heartbeat sped up with each ring. Very dramatically , yuta had put the phone on speaker to prove his point.

After 5 rings, tayeong picked up and so did your pulse.

“who it is?” a yawn filled voice was heard from the other side.

“are you still sleeping bitch?” yuta inquired with annoyance.

“ye-yes. We cleared the month last night so everyone is sleeping. What el-

“just wake up! I’ve something important to tell!”

“later. I’m bus-

“its about your precious y/n!”

“is she gone?” it sounded like he was suddenly awake!

“tsk tsk. The fuck is your problem? Do you even care about my wellbeing or should I find a new father!” yuta growled at him, his voice pierced through your ears.

“I’ll call her myself!”

“like she would tell you about her plan to lay my 6 feet under the ground!”

Yuta heard a deep sigh from the other side.

“this story better be good coz I don’t wanna lose my sleep ov-

“this is not a story. She spilled water to make me slip and –

“and kill you. what kind of man dies after a little slipping! Huh!”

“have you adopted her or something taeyong! Your attitude is fucking me up. Can you hear me for once or do you-

“what do you wanna say exactly! That you slipped and broke your legs and arms. Make it believable yuta. She might be a bit bitchy but can’t be that evil.”

“so I am a bitch!” your sleepy and cold voice interrupted.

“no no , I meant-

“It was unintentional. i didn’t even know he was home. And it was him who decided to barge in when I was finding food. He was not even invited into the kitchen in the first place!”

“but I got hurt and it was because-

“hurt? you mean as in injured! Oh god. You can’t come back then. take leave for a few days if you are hurt badly and call jun , he’ll be there with medicines and bandages. Consider this an extension of the suspension but you aren’t leaving the hous-

“fuck you taeyong! I hope you die in your sleep!!”

Slamming the phone on the table, he pulled at his roots, lidded eyes boring into you.

“you’ll pay for this.” his finger threateningly pointed towards you.

You let out a yawn before getting up to leave the space to him,

“whatever just don’t finish the spray bottle. Its new”

After that you didn’t hear anything from yuta or anyone.

And it just went like that for 2 more weeks!

“why don’t you shift to the dorms for two months! You can hang out with minjun while he complete his reports.”

“so you want me to lose my sleep and baby your baby?” you snickered, slurping the soup a bit louder this time.

“I’m not a baby!” minjun whined.

“oh you are!” a collective response resounded through the room and your reached out to pet minjun’s hair but he swatted your hand away in annoyance.

“no seriously shortie. You’d be alone for a whole month. Even chelin is going home this time. you can spend some time with junie and he’d treat you to homemade food Is it tempting enough?” jungkook suggested.

“not that I’m any interested in the offer but I can teach you the Japanese you were talking about earlier.” At minjun’s comment, everyone raised their brows, silently questioning your new interest.

“what? You all are so nosy. My new roommate is always dissing me in Japanese and I can’t answer that fucker coz I don’t understand anything he spits out at me.”

“HE?” another group chant resonated.

“why is your roommate a man?” yugyeom added.

“because he was born a man!”

“haha very funny y/n l/n. what’s his name and is he from our university?”

“his name is nakamoto yuta and no, he’s not a student. And before you enquire, he’s home only for like few hours so you don’t need to worry him being a pervert or anything.”

“where is your new residence anyway?” you almost choked at yugyeom’s sudden interruption but it confirmed your suspicion that jungkook hadn’t revealed anything yet.

“instead of me, shouldn’t you love birds be worried about the unbearable separation that’d last for a whole month. How are you gonna cope with it gyeom? Especially when yeong is going to be in Incheon and you in busan, stuck with the sweaty sports team and jungkook, who’d be slapping with you with kisses every now and then, thinking you are min-

A shove of dumpling into your mouth caused you to inhale back all the words that were supposed to leave.

“if you don’t wanna meet, then atleast call him daily after your moon internship and he can also accompany you to busan if you want.”

The colour of the air faded at the mention. Slowly, you swallowed the piece in your mouth , instantly finding a distraction to lighten the mood.

“why are these so delicious?”

Rummaging through the empty boxes, jungkook found the pamphlet and shoved it in your face which you curled into a ball and threw towards minjun, hitting him right in the face.

“yaa jun. keep it safe. We’ll order while watching movies and take keys of this house from your boyfriend,” you ordered, pointing to jungkook, “and his Netflix password and his wallet and if he allows, his car ke-

“shut your mouth love-hater!” jungkook exclaimed while stuffing your mouth with two dumplings. And everyone else just laughed at your troubled state, silently agreeing with jungkook’s statement.

What a good day to be a foodie!

Three days!

Taeil had granted you three days to de-stress yourself before you’d be joining your so called trainer for a self defence training program of two months. You wondered who could it be but it was definitely not the person you wished for! Johnny had been in france since two weeks, right from the day your exams started. He left his phone at home but he did contact you through a payphone to wish luck for exams. Since then, it’d been complete silence from the other end. You didn’t even know whether you really missed his presence or just the thought of being with someone who really showed some care for you.

eat, tv, sleep repeat seemed to be a very reasonable routine! your happiness had elevated when you saw a notification of chois about a job opening. Though you wanted to start from an internship in the main office but a moderate salary job as an assistant researcher of a junior lawyer wasn’t so bad as well!

no. actually it was awful seeing how much over-qualified you were for this job but with all the diminishing digits in your wallet, there was some significant scope for the bargain in your situation. But you still had to wait for 2 weeks for the acceptance of your application that would take you a step closer to your dream. Just two more weeks!

Is he still alive, you thought before leaving the kitchen, ready to finish the homemade meal.

High on a happy chemical , you cooked yourself ramyeon and eggs and completed your fancy dinner with a bottle of coke.

While slipping out of the kitchen , your eyes fell on the clean sink reminding you of the presence that you hadn’t felt since the last week.

“I’ll accompany jeno. We’ll be done in two minutes” yuta proposed with a lopsided grin.

The place was more livelier with yuta’s return. Not that he wasn’t already present, but the day he returned to his usual routine was when everyone got their sunshine back. He acted like nothing has changed but still noone could ignore his overcautiousness. He was engaging too much as if to make up for the lost time and not that anyone objected for they were happy to see the old yuta with old ways. Just something was odd!

While most of them were oblivious, others understood what he was hiding behind that façade. They had noticed how he took late night activities just to avoid being sent home or how he took jaehyun and mark with him to avoid any interaction with you.

But the most irksome was how day by day,he was drifting apart from taeyong.

“do you wanna take him home?” taeil snapped his fingers in front of your eyes as you registered his words. You were looking or shamelessly staring at the face of the man. He was dangerously tall as compared to you but his face was shining brighter than the sun itself. Your head snapped towards him again as taeil went on,

“don’t stare like you are gonna eat him y/n.” jungwoo eyes were dancing in the whole room as he avoided your curious ones. You didn’t mean to be creepy but you were having a hard time believing that the man sitting in front of you was a street fight champ and a former drug lord’s son. He seemed too….human.

“who’s staring?” you feigned innocence, looking at taeil.

“way to go advocate!” he said before continuing , “as I told you, jungwoo is a trained fighter, assassin and has a strong grip on pistols. Seeing what you can carry, a pistol is best for you. and jungwoo is a softie here so he won’t even give you a scratch during the training. But you have to actually listen to him or I’ll assign someone that won’t go easy on you.

“like?”

“like ten or jeno, they both don’t have any control over where they are hitting once they start so either you can cooperate with jungwoo or be ready to break some of your limbs.”

“how subtle taeil. but I can work with him.” you smiled at jungwoo which was returned with a shy one.

“okay then. Take care of each other and if you need anything then I’m not home.” Ad with a wave , he was gone.

“what do you wanna start with?” jungwoo asked in a small voice.

“you are teacher so whatever you say.”

“okay them. we’ll start with grip practice.” He got up, signalling you to follow him.

You ended up in a small part of the basement. It was divided into two sections with a glass used as the separation. Raw grass kind hard padding was attached to the walls on the both sides. On the other side of the wall were pasted two targets looking like giant sized dart boards that you suppose were for the practice.

While you were glancing around, jungwoo came back with a small metal box. He opened it to reveal a matt black pistol that looked even smaller when he held it.

“you can’t start with a semi-auto one just yet so for basics this is good for you. though I’m here but please don’t drop it. it belongs to taeyong hyung and he doesn’t know it’s here so please don’t mention it either.” He pleaded in a soft voice to which you found yourself nodding, copying his motion.

“so , you don’t need to memorise every part of a pistol but remember the few terms so if you ever held a new gun or pistol, someone can instruct you as to the handling of it.” you kept nodded as he went on,

“this is the exposed barrel, slide stop, safety lever , trigger and trigger guard and the most important magazine, if its empty ,your body would become the home of enemy bullets. Try clicking the safety lever!”

You did as he instructed. For about thirty minutes, he taught about pulling the barrel that drained your wrists of all the strength they had. He let you go only when he was sure you won’t forget the basics, atleast not until tomorrow.

You hadn’t felt this exhausted in your life as much as you did in the last week. If Thesis research and jungwoo’s lessons were not enough then minjun’s new found love of photography was surely doing its work on your body. Who knew holding flowers and leaves for aesthetic photos was so much draining! And the time you were alone at home was spent sleeping and that too only if yuta and his gang were not screeching out their lungs, fighting with someone online with no regard for the well-being of others in the house. You knew he was aware of his actions but with zero communication, even you didn’t bother pointing him out.

But when had avoidance created peace!

12:30 p.m

As you flipped the glossy leaves of the photo album, the three humans behind that transparent film seemed to come alive, albeit in your memories. Pausing at every page, you tried to live those moments once again ,just like every year. Though you and that photo album were bound by a thread of sadness, the memories it contained made you feel immense joy that was incomparable for you.

The small album was the only memory that reminded you of the family you had once! and today was the day you’ll go to meet them again.

Busan was not that far away but the location of the graveyard added a whole hour to the already 3 hour long journey. You were supposed to meet your orphan warden at the station directly and like every year she'd be accompanying you to Busan so you could meet them. Even though you were a grown-up now , she didn't had the heart to let you go alone. So it had became a tradition.

After memorizing every picture, you got up to get ready for the long journey. Taeil had excused you for this weekend so there were no worries from his side. you rotated the doorknob to open but it didn’t budge.

You shoved your body against the door but nothing happned! Though you didn't want to rely , there was only one option left!

"yuta!" You shouted in a hope that his lazy ass would respond but silence replied instead.

"yuta! Can you hear me. I'm locked!" You tried again, both shouting and trying the knob, banged the door but none worked in your favour.

Then realisation dawned on you! Why won't he hear anything when he was right outside the room! because he didn't want to!

"yuta I swear I'm gonna kill you! let me out!"

Raking your hands through your hair, you decided to find your phone but it looked like the whole universe was conspiring against you as the phone was not in the room. you had probably left it on the kitchen counter earlier. The only communication you had was with yuta and he was not listening to you , delibrately!

Your fist met the door with all the power you could muster but only the echo was heard which fainted within few seconds.

"fuck you yuta" you mumbled dejectedly before throwing yourself on the mattress. Contempt filled your heart as you watched the fan moving endlessly and your mind grasped the reality that maybe you won't be visiting them. Not if he didn't open the door. But he couldn't lock you for years!

And whenever that door opens , you'll make sure to close it forever.

"eat slugs , haechan!" Yuta exclaimed into the microphone, killing another of haechan's Avatar in the game. He winced as haechan groaned loudly, trying to get some pity out of yuta.

Calling it a day, he teared the headphones away , the sudden silence bringing peace to his ears. Stretching his limbs, he got up but as he trudged for the kitchen, he heard a knock that didn't come from the front door.

He stopped abruptly as if to check if his mind was playing games on him but he heard it again, this time a fainted one.

His stopped in front of your room and slapped his hand against the door , checking his suspicious. Another fast and hard bang came in response and he rotated the knob to open but nothing happened. Forcing his body against the door, a metal dropping sound reached him before the door opened. Without even glancing at you, he leaned and picked up the screws that were stuck in the door hinges. But before he could show you those, you pushed him backward, releasing all the anger at once.

"what the fuck is wrong with you!" Not paying any attention to any of his words, you searched for your phone that you found on the counter and shot your warden an apologetic message. The orphan was near the station so you were sure she won't have waited for more than thirty minutes but you knew she'd have been worried for you.

Quickly working , you called taeyong while running for the main door, a confused yuta following you.

"you are home taeyong?" You asked him while wearing your shoes and exited , ignoring yuta's perplexed questions.

Yuta stood in the doorway, contemplating what the heck he had witnessed!

18:30

Taeyong jerked forward on his chair as you slammed open the door of his office and marched in. When you called earlier , he thought you were going to complain about something that yuta did but the heat of the anger radiating through your body was enough to burn his senses from a distance.

"sit and calm-

"I'm not here to witness your hospitality Lee taeyong. Relieve me of the agreement here and now. my way or your way! I don't wanna live under the same roof wi-

"why are you shouting so much?" Jaehyun interrupted ,entering the room in a swift motion. Following him were few others who might have been awakened by your outburst.

"shut up jaehyun! For once do something with your worthless life" you spit out, eyes boring into jaehyun's.

"can you atleast tell me what has happened!"

To answer taeyong , you moved forward, resting your hands on the head of a chair continued,

"yuta locked me today. My phone was outside in the kitchen. I shouted , pleaded but he didn't open the door for 5 hours. I was supposed to go to Busan but that motherfucker don't ha-

"Busan? Your hometown?" Taeyong disrupted your speech,

"f-for my parents' death anniversary! I was suppose to visit their graves like every year.b-but he chose today of all days to play his little revenge games on me." With broken voice and tears threatening to spill, you managed to proceed,

"i don't wanna live with him anymore. I didn't sign up for this torture. Kill me for all you want but don't try to convince me into staying with that bastard!" Your nails holed into the leather chair, creating small crescents on the surface.

Uncomfortable silence fell over the whole room . As you turned around to leave, you were met with yuta's figure. His hand motioned to reach you but you closed the distance before he could.

"i hope you enjoyed it today!" With venom laced words, you finalised your proposition by flinging the ring straight into his face, his face scrunching at the hit , before walking past him.

"hyun-

Before taeyong could complete, taeil was already was on your heels.

"why do you have to be an asshole yuta?"

" i didn't do anything!" He started as he picked up the ring from the floor, “the door was ja-

“you shouldn’t have stooped so low nakamoto yuta!” tayeong growled with eyes glistening with fire.

“what now?” yuta’s jaw clenched at jaehyun’s nonchalant words. Pocketing his annoyance for him, he opened his mouth to explain himself,

“nothing now ok! I did nothing.i didn’t lock her and certainly didn’t try to forbid from going anywhere. She wa- the door was jammed due to some loose screws. I had to push it so it’d open. I-i-I wasn’t even aware of her plans. Heck, you can ask hyuck. I was playing with him for 6 hours straight. I had headphones in my ears all that time and you know how much hyuck yells. Even if she was stuck, there was not a sound that reached me taeyong. I was as oblivious to all this as much as you all were till now and knowingly, I won’t ever do anything so harsh. You know me very well! don’t you?” he ended with a hopeful question glancing at everyone in the room. With each passing second, his anxiousness elevated at the silent and calculating faces of everyone.

“you don’t believe me, do you?” his broken voice resembled the one they just heard few minutes ago.

“no yuta.i-its not like that . message taeil hyung about all this so he can calm her down.” Taeyong muttered with eyes searching up yuta’s for any malice he might be planning but found nothing. he was innocent.

But yuta panicked at his words, “why? I can explain by myself. It’s not that difficult. I can handle her taeyong.” he turned for the door but taeyong’s words stopped him in his tracks.

“you think so! You should be glad you are alive yuta”

“then release us taeyong. I’m begging you, LET HER GO!” the shout that echoed was enough to send shivers through every living being in the vicinity.

“I will. If taeil hyung say so. Message him yuta and you should know I don’t repeat my words without expense!”

He did as told, head hung low to avoid the pity looks that were thrown his way!

“don’t follow me taeil!”

“I’ll stop if you’ll stop!” taeil politely replied, tracking your steps on the sidewalk. He tried to obstruct your way but ended up following you instead. 15 minutes had passed since you both left the house but your anger was not simmering down and you were stunned at his patience.

“you can’t walk till university.” You deadpanned.

“neither can you.”

Stopping abruptly, you faced him, “you can’t stop me taeil.”

“I won’t. but the bus driver would. Even pretty girls don’t get a free ride home.” You groaned at his unnecessarily true words. He was right, you had nothing on you except for the phone.

He silently observed your slumping body, before walking a step closer to check the waters. When you didn’t push him away, he lightly took your hand in his, tugging you to come along.

“I don’t wanna go with you.” your hushed voice gave him some courage to proceed further,

“we aren’t going home. Lets just sit”

He dragged you to the park you had passed just five minutes ago. Sitting on the bench , he asked you to explain everything that had happened in the last 6 hours. You recited the whole story till the end where you threw the ring at yuta. Taeil only hummed in response when he heard a buzz from his phone.

Reading yuta’s message , he suddenly knew where to start!

“read this y/n.” he said before giving you the phone.

You absorbed each and every word written. It made sense. But did it?

“he’s lying.” You scoffed , returning the phone.

“he’s not.”

“ofcourse you’ll take his side.”

“and why would I do that?”

“he’s your brother”

“and you are my sister”

“no I’m not. I never would be.” You retorted, hiding the effect his words had on you.

“I might not be your brother but you can’t stop me from calling you my sister and I’d prefer you over yuta anyday.”

“but you still think I’m lying and he’s right”

Taeil massaged the back of his neck, clearly getting annoyed by your snapping.

“when did I say you are lying? I just said he’s not lying.”

“isn’t it the same thing?”

“no its clearly not. You just don’t wanna admit that you misunderstood!”

Uncrossing your legs, you faced him, “ because I am not in the wrong here. he is ! he did it so he can have the house all to himself while I’m locked. The truth is he hates my guts. He wont ever pass an opportunity against me!”

“and like you love his guts! Your hatred for him is the reason that you don’t wanna believe he’s innocent. Your heart wants to believe that everything that had unfolded after that night is yuta’s fault. You don’t wanna believe because you just don’t want to! You are rejecting his reason because your mind says its the perfect chance to break taeyong! your anger and emotions are playing games with you and you are letting them! and this is exactly what yuta had been doing from the very first day! He’s no different than you. No matter how much you discard it, the truth won’t change! Impulsive actions lead you nowhere!” His polite yet authoritative voice was providing inputs that you didn’t want to believe. Not yet.

“I just wanted to go to busan taeil. If he hadn’t been home the-

“if he hadn’t been home , then you would not have even made it out! And I’m sure you have heard him playing games. He’s a loudspeaker and believe me haechan is yuta part two. I’m sure he didn’t hear you.”

“but why would anyone even care! I’m the one at loss here.”

“what loss. Just because you missed it today doesn’t mean you can’t go tomorrow and If you want i can take you there. we can go right now! But y/n , loved ones live in your heart!. You don’t need a day to show them your respect and love. They know you and they watch over you. don’t crumble under the weight of customs and rituals. We’ll go tomorrow morning. Be ready by 8 a.m !” his soothing voice managed to calm the storm but you weren’t going to budge from your first condition.

“I don’t wanna go back with him.”

He sighed heavily before pressing his phone to his ear,

“taeyong. replace yuta in france. For two months and I don’t want any further discussion.”

You sniffled, finally letting out the tears that were in the waiting since the morning.

“I can drop you to the dorm for tonight until he packs his stuff and you can go back home tomorrow. Sounds right?” he described his plan , petting your hair.

You weakly nodded, letting him ease your worries with sympathetic words that you didn’t even know you needed!

next morning

Uncomfortable silence welcomed you as you entered the house. You were told that he was gone and it sounded about right with the present atmosphere.

After finding the fruits, you made you way to the room but stopped in your tracks as you spotted something on the counter.

Three moulded screws were placed on a paper along with the ring that you thought would never be seen by you again. you breath quickened as you read the words on the plain paper

I’m sorry!

What were you supposed to do with it now?

**********************

thank you for reading ! feedback is always appreciated $￣︶￣*$)

🎈

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #neowritingsnet #kafenetwork #nct mafia #nct angst #nct arrange marriage #yuta mafia #yuta angst #yuta arrange marriage #yuta #yuta series #nct series #yuta scenarios

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octalove · 4 years

Text

IV: The Dinner

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Brief note; per demand, this little trilogy will now be an ongoing series🥺thank u all for the support! i was not expecting it at all. ur comments make my day!! i hope u enjoy this chapter bearing in mind that i wasn’t intending on a full length fic, so i hope u can put up with any missteps in the plot or writing. i’m making it up as i go. kiss kiss

Description: Reader makes an ally, and attends a tense dinner. part one, two, and three.

A mild blue dawn was just beginning to flit through the blinds, and I sighed heavily, stretching a little, and running a hand across my face. My skin was cold to the touch. Rolling over stiffly, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.

5:26a.m.

Nineteen minutes before my alarm. I was too cold to go back to sleep, I knew, as much as Alfred had requested I try and get more of it. Pulling myself up, the sheets slipped off my bare shoulders and folded onto themselves. Once in a blue moon, I would forego making it up again, usually accompanied by an excuse. Today, I didn’t have one. I put my feet on the floor, mind buzzing.

I was done tossing and turning, and decided to get up and shower. Afterward, I threw on my uniform, and got to work on my face. A little bronzy eyeshadow, some mascara and lip balm. I could’ve turned my face into a work of art, but I was tired from my sleepless night and doing much else seemed like a strain.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” I was expecting Bruce or Alfred, but I caught Tim’s reflection in my vanity mirror.

“Hey.” He said.

“Good morning.” I replied tensely. He sat on my bed. Okay. Weird. Tim was a year younger than me- but always ordained himself something of an older brother. His brainpower made learned helplessness and easy state to slip into when he was around- always fixing my PS4, or recovering lost files from my laptop. When we first met, I used to use those things as a crutch to interact with him, as neither of us were particularly forthcoming. These days, we were as close as any pair of siblings.

“What’s up?” I asked, tucking away my mascara wand.

“Oh, I just thought I’d… check up on you. Before school started.”

I was the only one of the Waynes attending Gotham Academy at the moment. Damian was still at Gotham Prep, but by the time he would attend next year, I’d be graduated. I wondered if Tim ever missed it. He garnered his fair share of attention; mostly because of his attractive status and predisposition of agreeability. Before he dropped out, I used the be the subject of mediation for every eligible teenage girl that wanted to get to know my brother- no, the other one. With the soft hair. The chem tutor.

I laughed a little. “Do I seem like I need it?” Tim shrugged. I got up and plopped on the duvet beside him. My window was open a crack, filling the room with a chilly breeze and the scent of moisture and petrichor.

“Did Bruce make you get up for this?” I tried again, keeping my playful tone. He sighed and shook his head.

“Bruce isn’t the only one who’s noticed you lately.” He said, with contrasting seriousness that made my smile fall.

“What’s there to notice? Seriously.” I questioned.

He sighed again and twisted his lip. I knew what that meant. He was about to list everything different I’d been doing for the past three weeks, either alphabetically or by severity. “You look tired. You get home and go straight to your room. You keep fidgeting during briefings. You look distracted. You’re avoiding Damian- which, I get it- but like, more than usual. Dick said you haven’t texted him all week. You usually have something to say about your day at dinner, but-“

“Okay. I get it.”

A brief moment passed, where I watched him pull a looser string from the duvet.

“I know you went somewhere. On the 21st, when we were patrolling in Otisburg. You went somewhere for forty-two minutes.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything-“ He added quickly, looking at me. “Really, I have know idea why you left. I’m sure it was nothing, I just… you’ve been acting weird ever since. Where did you go?”

I swallowed, and my intestines felt like lead. Really, I was relieved. Here I was, in my room I’d decorated with Wayne money, with my brother who evidently cared enough about me to notice my typical word count at dinner, asking me what was wrong. And a lot was wrong.

So, I smoothed my plaid skirt and told him about the night of the 21st- and only that. From Red Hood, to Hoffman, to the warehouse. Every vivid detail I could remember. I decided to leave out my little truancy adventure, along with meeting him in the alley. Lifting up his mask. Having his exposed skin close enough to touch. His gunpowder smell. By the end, Tim was frowning. The following silence could’ve crushed a coke can.

“Shit.” He muttered.

“Yeah.” I echoed. “Shit.”

He didn’t asked why I didn’t tell Bruce. Or Anyone. He didn’t ask why it was so important to me to do this by myself. All he did was take in the information and start putting it together.

“Jesus- you could’ve died. But all that Hoffman stuff. Why you?”

“Exactly!” I breathed.

Another knock on the door, and Alfred’s voice carried through, telling me it was time to go. I got up. Tim nodded and followed suit, no doubt carrying my every last recounting in his piggy-bank memory.

“Please don’t tell Bruce.” I said, some amount of fear slipping into my voice. “I know it was a stupid thing to do and it was stupid not to tell anyone. But he’ll never trust me again.” Tim hesitated at the door.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

I climbed into the backseat of the car, and stared at the cityscape running past the windows. The anxiety had lifted. One of my growing number of secrets revealed. In its wake, the sudden absence left a sense of clarity. I remembered why I had kept it to begin with.

Dick was gifted. The first. The talented boy who could fly. Babs and Tim were brilliant; genius far beyond the confines of academia. Damian was skilled. Trained from birth, the blood son. It nestled here him neatly, right where he belonged. What was I? I wasn’t born with athletic ability beyond my years, or genius intellect. Without that information- without my secrets- I had nothing else to give.

Thursday night was dinner. The whole family. It was Bruce’s excuse to drag Dick out of his apartment in Blüdhaven, and for Alfred to exercise a new recipe, since everyone was on a strict lean-means and superfoods regimen every other waking day. Babs attended occasionally, when work didn’t keep her busy, and Tim was only allowed to pass if he promised to rest instead.

I met his eyes as everyone was rounded into the dining room by Alfred like a herd of sheep; he gave me some imperceptible knowing look that promised to keep my secret.

We sat down and sipped water from crystal glasses as the table was set with food, muttering amongst ourselves about our days. Dick was given a coffee with the wrong name (‘Nick’), Babs met up with her friend from high school (Olivia something or other), and Damian completed a group project with some incompetent classmates (they all were- even the professors). Vigilante talk wasn’t forbidden, but generally skirted around so as to offer a small reprieve of normalcy during the week.

There was an exception to this unspoken rule when there was a particularly exciting case on the table. Unfortunately for me and my anxiety, the case of the Red Hood was a very exciting one.

“Any new breaks with Red Hood?” Dick asked through miso soup. Bruce sighed.

“He made some movements in Robbinsville. Gone before we could get there. He’s got his men on a tight leash- we couldn’t get any of them to talk.”

“Course not. There’s rumors flying all over the department. One of the Ioveanu family branches payed out a huge security detail for their private mansion.”

“He hasn’t hunted anyone in their home, has he?” I asked. I pictured him standing in front of me- maskless, in my academy uniform.

“No, it’s not his MO.” Barbara answered.

“Not yet. It’s only been six months, and he’s progressing rapidly.” Bruce diagnosed grimly.

“Are you scared he’s gonna join us for dinner?” Dick joked, throwing a wink my way.

“Haha.” I muttered. Actually, I hadn’t slept because of the very idea.

“If you’re nervous, you could always stay home next patrol.” Damian suggested pointedly. To him, existing in the realm of crimefighting was a competition, and he was always looking for others to drop out of the race. I resisted the urge to fling a pea at him.

“I’m not nervous.” I said coolly.

“You’ve been practically trembling since we fought his pathetic lackeys.”

“Damian.” Bruce warned, from the head of the table. I flipped the smallest Wayne the middle finger. He resigned, but I swore I saw amusement on his lips.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Red Hood is very skilled and very prolific. It’s a daunting case.” Bruce continued.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. Really.” I said, trying not to sound annoyed, and feeling like a spotlight was over my head, operated by the ghost of Hoffman. I almost laughed as I pictured it.

“That’s good to hear. We’ve been concerned.” Alfred added.

“Wow. I’m the star of the show around here.” I remarked dryly.

“We can’t help it, Miss Independent.” Dick said teasingly. “You’re just a good mystery.”

“Reminds me of Talia.” Tim said casually. The silverware stopped clanging.

It was a shameless subject change. Damian’s mother was an inflammatory topic for all parties. Bruce’s moral contempt didn’t reach the likes of Talia Al Ghul and Selena Kyle, immoral though they were. Beauty makes anything charming- and when paired with an impeccable taste in dress, even murder and thievery can be minimized into something of a quirk. Bruce thought so, anyway.

As for Damian, he had grappled with his dismissal from Talia’s side for what was now a majority of his life, and still possessed this deep-rooted, inextinguishable attachment to his mother. It was the hollow soreness any young boy would have in his position. Tim called him mama’s boy until he finally displayed a frightening amount of disdain for the title and actually begged him to stop. Tim agreed to, and I agreed to pretend I never heard a thing.

Dick disagreed with both of those sentiments and viewed Talia as someone who wasn’t worth the trouble. His dismissal embarrassed Bruce and offended Damian, so I knew the dinner table had been sufficiently turned into a powder keg. Tim and I shared a look as I expressed silent gratefulness, and he resigned to inspecting a dumpling, while I picked around my haka noodles.

The rest of dinner was quiet. Somehow, somewhere in the silence all had been decidedly forgiven. First by Babs who asked me to pass the pepper. Then by Dick who said the vegetables were good. Thank you, Alfred. Damian still looked pissed, and Bruce kept stealing glances at the clock.

I texted Tim under the table.

Thanks for taking one for the team.

The reply: You owe me one. I think Damian’s gonna poison my food.

We both glanced at the youngest, who was darkly mesmerized by what appeared to be Tim’s soup bowl.

He quickly added, Wait, actually tho? And we both fought laughter like two kids in the back of the class. It felt good to have an ally. Even if he still didn’t know the whole truth.

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yoshichao · 3 years

Text

the Smashers and their Host - Chapter ??? Preview

Series: Super Smash Bros.

Characters: Reader, Literally Everyone In Super Smash Bros Ultimate

Summary: You’re an inter-dimensional being that owns a huge estate situated on the cusp of spacetime. You’ve been asked to rent out your mansion for the upcoming Super Smash Bros. tournament. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Reader-Insert, Romantic & Platonic Harem, Comedy, Fluff, No Smut

Read the fic here!

[hi a year ago i was writing a chapter about characters getting sick but then a pandemic happened, making this no longer as fun to write. as a result i’m not going to be posting this one for awhile... but i’m going to share the beginning portion of it anyways. hope you enjoy?]

"Room service!" you call out, peeking into the room with a friendly smile and a tray in your hands. Upon your arrival, Marth sits up in his bed and tries to offer a smile in return... but it is visibly weak, marred by puffy eyes and a flushed face.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise." The Altean prince's voice sounds different from what you're used to. It sounds like he has a stuffed nose... which he does, of course. "If anyone was to be bringing me soup, I would have expected it to be Peach."

You step fully into the room, nudging the door shut behind you with your hip before making your way over to the bed where the prince lies. "It was Peach's idea to make soup for everyone," you confirm, "but after we started delivering it to people, I think the full brunt of the illness hit her too and I told her to go lay down."

Upon discovering that over half the Smashers residing in your mansion had come down with a cold, you took it upon yourself to be a good host and play a part in helping everyone make a full recovery. Of course, having lived alone and illness-free for god-knows-how-long, you were a bit at a loss at what to do... and thankfully Peach was all-too-happy to lend a hand. You recall she seemed tired from the beginning but did her very best to hide it, and an hour and a cauldron of hot soup later, the exhaustion seemed to hit the princess all at once. It took some doing, but you eventually managed to convince her that you and the rest of the team could take it from there. She (and Samus, who was rooming with her while mansion repairs were still being done) was one of the first people you delivered to, and her warm, grateful smile was enough to convince you that you could do this. You can trek across the mansion for hours to deliver supplies to forty or so different people all day.

Even with your handy "shortcuts", it's more draining than you thought.

"Oh dear." Marth chuckles weakly at your explanation. "Thinking about it... for as long as we've been in Smash together, I don't think I've ever seen her fall ill before... I suppose I didn't even imagine it happening to her."

You have a feeling that Peach has gotten sick in the past - she is just very good at hiding it and powering through it. You're certain she would have continued doing that this time as well had you not convinced her otherwise. However, instead of saying any of this, you simply shrug while placing the tray on the bedside table.

"Well, she is a princess. You can't have royalty looking all unkempt and snotty - that wouldn't be right at all."

Marth needs a moment before he realizes… you are making a jab at him. The prince is flustered for a moment before he lets out a laugh, which you respond in turn with a cheeky grin.

“Do I look that bad?”

He is visibly unwell, but you feel inclined to soften the blow to his vanity. “Nah, I’m just teasing. Anything else you need before I go?” You can’t help but glance around Marth’s room under the guise of checking if anything in particular is missing. You respect your guests’ privacy, so you haven’t been in many of their rooms after the move-in - including Marth’s. His room is fairly plain and orderly - the only thing that really screams “Marth” in here is the mannequin that is adorned with his familiar Smash garb. Said mannequin also holds his sword, Falchion. You suppose storing an outfit with armour on it in this fashion is easier than trying to keep it in the closet or in a drawer. Though considering you don’t see any other articles of clothing lying about, perhaps the closet is just full?

...How many clothes does this guy have?

You’re curious now, but decide not to pry.

“Thank you, but I should be fine,” Marth replies, bringing your attention back to him. “You’ve done enough already. Merely visiting me was plenty - you’ve certainly been a sight for sore eyes.”

For a moment, you’re flustered… but then you remember this man is currently sick in bed. His thoughts are probably a bit jumbled and unfiltered. And really, who wouldn’t feel better knowing there was someone bringing them soup? Beauty comes from kindness and within, et cetera et cetera. All these excuses and more fill your head as you effortlessly wave away Marth’s silly words - you, a sight?! Ha ha! Why, isn’t that saying often used platonically as well? Yes? Maybe? You are drawing a blank.

You’re so lost in denial that you forget to respond aloud. Marth seems to take your silence and (unbeknownst to you) goofy smile the wrong(?) way and starts stammering out an apology, possibly growing even more embarrassed than you are.

“I-I didn’t mean… What I meant by that was… Well, it’s not that I didn’t mean it, but I mean, I find you… quite… um…”

“If you want a sight, next time you need something I’ll be sure to send in the cutest maid we have on staff,” you joke, easily shifting the conversation to more comfortable territory. Marth relaxes at the topic shift and chuckles lightly, still looking a bit embarrassed.

“I’ll never live that moment down, will I?”

“Nope!” Your first embarrassing encounter with any of the Smashers has been so diluted by increasingly hectic and bizarre moments that you find it more funny than embarrassing these days. Well, you say “these days” like it wasn’t just a couple weeks ago that that happened… So much has happened since then that it feels like it has almost been two whole years! Really, it feels like the tournament should have started by now. Crazy how time works like that, huh? Ha ha.

Anyways.

“Anyways,” you say aloud, not sure where that oddly guilty train of thought came from. It was almost like someone was trying to speak through you to express their feelings. But that’s ridiculous! Best not to think about it anymore. “I’ve got more soup deliveries to make, so if you need anything, just…”

Oh. Oh wait you don’t have a system in place for this, do you? And you’re pretty sure most of the Smashers don’t have cell phones… Gah, you knew you should have implemented an internal phone line! Maybe you can ask Master Hand to sneak it in there while doing mansion renovations for future needs. If you do it, you’d have to do it in every single room one by one, which sounds exhausting. You already have a lot on your plate today!

“Don’t worry,” Marth says, “it’s only a cold. If I need anything, I have enough strength to get it myself.”

You open your mouth to protest but… actually, he has a point. It’s not like anyone seems to be sick with the flu or anything. And most of the Smashers are adults - they are all perfectly capable of getting up and retrieving anything they may need or want. Well, R.I.P. to anyone staying on the top floor because you still don’t have an elevator, but… they can at least leave a message on the door or something. Whatever.

This is already proving to be a very good learning experience at how unsuitable your mansion is in its current state for hosting this many people. You’ll have enough experience and knowledge by the end of this that you could run a rental business in your realm if you wanted.

“Well, if anything changes and you start having trouble, just leave a note outside the door,” you decide definitively. Going door-to-door to check on people would be tiring (and you’d also risk disturbing people who are sleeping) - but taking a walk through the halls every couple hours to check for notes or whatever? Easy. Even your shortcut-less partners could manage that.

Speaking of your partners, you should really be getting a move on.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marth replies, wordlessly giving you the go ahead to skedaddle on outta here. “Thank you again for this.”

And he gives you such a kind and warm smile despite his ailment that you are practically stumbling out of the door, unable to figure out why it feels like there are butterflies inside you.

...Helping people out is good. That’s all.

Shaking away the strange feelings this encounter brought, you pop yourself back into the kitchen, where you are instantly greeted with the smell of hot soup. The room is warm thanks to the literal cauldron y’all made a day’s worth of soup in with Peach’s help, which remains on perpetual heat. There are only two Smashers in the room right now: femme Robin, who is using a laddle to scoop the soup into bowls and prepare the trays for delivery, and R.O.B., who is just on his way out with a tray balanced on his metallic arms. He stops when he sees you appear from nothingness, staring silently at you for a moment before turning his head back to a neutral position and rolling out of the room. Shrugging off the encounter, you approach Robin and the table of food trays.

“A couple more down - how many are left?” You spot the stack of trays that haven’t been prepared yet, each with a Smasher’s name stickied onto them. “Oh. That’s how many…”

“You work a lot faster than the boys do,” Robin chuckles, her voice notably different-sounding than usual. You’re pretty sure she’s sick too, but unlike Peach, she hasn’t been overwhelmed by it yet and waves away any concerns you’ve thrown her way. “R.O.B. can only carry one order at a time, and the Pikmin keep spilling or dropping things… or eating it. Shulk is… well, I think the stairs are too much for him.”

“That’s understandable,” you chuckle. Yeah, your team is not the greatest for this job. But you’re still thankful for the help. “You are giving him orders for people on the lower floors though, right?”

Robin gives you A Look before gesturing to the soup and the pile of crackers and bread… among other world-specific foods that are apparently good to eat when sick. “Hey, I’m busy putting everything together here! I don’t have time to tell everyone where to go! Just pick up a tray and go, that’s what I’ve been saying.”

Oh geez, not even you’re completely familiar with the rooms that the Smashers chose for themselves. You can imagine Shulk having to search every floor just to find the name he’s been looking for is on the top… Thankfully Peach managed to round up any and all roommate scenarios before leaving to rest, or else this could be even more hectic.

“Fair enough,” you relent, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the others’ hardships. It is admittedly funny to think about, but you intend to work hard enough so no one tires themselves out at what would otherwise be an endless task. You’re hoping that after this first round, you’ll all have a break when you only have to deal with specific orders… until dinner time, of course. Then this chaos will begin again.

“Ugh, and no one has even delivered food to my poor, sweet Lucy yet!” Robin groans dramatically, hand to her head like she’s acting in a movie. “Here I am, selflessly toiling away for the sake of everyone else, while my only daughter continues to suffer! Oh, won’t somebody deliver this soup to her in my stead?”

“Uh… Yeah, sure, I could do that. Or if you’d want I could stay here while you--”

“Oh you will?!” Robin cuts you off before you can finish, grinning as she scoops up the tray with Lucina’s name taped onto it and forces it into your arms. “You’re a lifesaver! A knight in shining armour! I’m sure she will be SO happy to know someone as sweet as you is looking out for her…”

With an awkward (but amused) hum, you accept the tray and adjust it so you’ll be able to grab a couple more. Before you can start browsing the selection though, Robin starts coughing - first soft, but then she’s leaning over and hacking into her arm. Uh oh. “Robin, why don’t you go lie down? I think the rest of us can take care of things from here.”

“No no, I’m fine. Really,” she says, considerably less bombastic than before as she manages a smile. You can tell that it’s forced. “Someone has to prepare all this food and look after the kitchen!”

She’s… not exaggerating. Olimar’s Pikmin tend to sample the selection any time they’re in here to pick up another delivery. And then there was the one time Kirby came in today…

...Best not to think about that nightmare.

“Well… maybe you can at least take a break?” you suggest, not wanting her condition to get any worse via pushing herself too hard. You all may need the help, but… you’re sure you can manage! “There aren’t too many trays left to prepare--” Ten isn’t much, right? How much work could it possibly be to put food on a tray? “--and we could just have Shulk or R.O.B. watch the kitchen.” You’d volunteer yourself, but like Robin said, you kind of are the most efficient person on hand right now. Even Palutena has this cold - there’s no one with teleportation powers well enough to lend a hand.

Robin puts a hand to her face, clearly considering your offer. You notice how tired she looks now that she’s not overcompensating her energy to hide it. “Oh, but…”

“You could bring a tray with you,” you tempt. “Go lie down, eat, maybe read or watch a movie? Then maybe in an hour if you feel alright you can come back…?”

The tactician is silent, envisioning the possibilities you are proposing. Finally, she nods and steals a random tray, ripping off the name and sticking it on one of the empty ones. “Alright, you got me. I’m convinced. Say hi to Lucy for me, okay?!”

With a cheeky grin, she leaves the room with food in tow. Briefly you wonder if she had been looking for an excuse to go sit down for a while now…

After Robin is gone, you start browsing the trays so you can deliver more than one order in a single trip. Should you try for a bunch on the same floor as Lucina, or should you grab some for higher floors instead so your partners can catch a break? Just as you think you’ve made a decision, a certain Monado Boy enters the room with an empty food trolley.

“I ran into Robin on the way here,” Shulk says in lieu of a greeting. He looks tired, but devoid of any cold symptoms that everyone else seems to have. “She said she was taking a break but seemed rather… excited about it. I don’t suppose that means we’re down another member?”

“I guess we’ll find out if she comes back or not,” you chuckle. You’re pretty sure Robin is a fairly reliable person but… she can be rather sneaky about her true intentions. “Either way, I think we’ll be fine! We can do this!”

Your positivity is infectious; Shulk returns the smile, albeit weaker than yours. While you’re certain he’s probably just tired from running around so much to help people, you can’t help but ask him again:

“Hey, are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re not sick too or anything?”

Shulk shakes his head. “I told you before, I don’t seem to have it. Really, I don’t feel sick at all.”

When you asked him earlier, he told you that he had a weird history of never getting sick at the same time as his friends. He just never seemed to catch the same bugs as them. His explanation for it was as good as yours - which was no explanation, because he doesn’t know how it happens either. Just luck and coincidence, probably. When you try to imagine Smashers with strong immune systems, Shulk would have never been at the top of the list. He just… he looks so frail! But you can’t fight the facts: he’s one of the only human Smashers who is still perfectly healthy right now.

“How about you?” Shulk asks, returning the question. “You haven’t started feeling sick, right?”

He must be worried that you are going to ditch him too. “Nope! Like I said earlier: I don’t get sick. Like, at all.” You honestly can’t remember the last time you had gotten sick. Certainly not since you “moved into” this world, which was… well, it’s been awhile! Assumedly, it’s just one of the many perks of who you are and the realm you live in. Regardless, it’s been long enough that you’re convinced that “virus immunity” is one of your many undefined abilities.

Unfortunately for you, “not being a clumsy fool” is not one of your cool superpowers.

“Oh no!” You let down your guard for just a moment and accidentally let the trays in your hands tip, dumping all the food and utensils onto the ground. Man, you’ve been doing so good today! Shulk helps you clean it up, but a certain issue remains.

"Ugh, what if specific foods were on those?" you bemoan aloud. "I can't remember what came from each tray…" And you don't know anyone's tastes well enough to remake them. Though you suppose you could just leave the soup plain… put a bit of everything on the side…

"Who were they for?"

"Lucina, Yoshi, and Villager."

"In that case, I think…" Shulk picks up a blue-and-white bag among the mess. "...this is for Villager."

This makes perfect sense. "Now for Yoshi… probably all the fruit?”

Shulk ponders for a second, then nods. This also makes perfect sense. The two of you put all the bananas, berries, and peppers onto Yoshi’s tray.

“That just leaves the soup for Lucina!” You grin and rush over to the still-warm soup pot and fill a new bowl. “That was easier than I thought.” You are pretty sure you didn’t make any mistakes whatsoever. Except… wait a minute.

“Didn’t I deliver this earlier?” At your query, Shulk glances over to the particular tray you’re pointing at. It’s labelled for Peach and Samus, but you’re certain that this was one of the first deliveries you made!

...Wasn’t it?

“Um.” Shulk seems just as puzzled as you were. “Honestly, I’m not sure…”

You try to reach further back into your memory, but it seems to get further and further the more you try. Today’s events have been a blur of chaos and confusion. “...I guess I’ll just do it again??” It doesn’t matter if you can’t remember doing it, if the tray is here then that means you have to deliver it! You pick up the tray and put it on your trolley, then start loading the trolley up with more and more trays until it’s full.

“Oops, I almost forgot…” You turn and look at Shulk, who is also loading up a trolley. “Shulk, can you take Lucina’s? Robin asked me to, but I’m out of space.”

The two of them seem like good friends anyways, you’re sure Lucina will be more happy to see Shulk than to see you.

“Sure thing.”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you start pushing your food trolley out of the room. As soon as you’ve exited the kitchen, you warp to the second floor of the mansion. Static dances on your skin from the instant transmission, but you ignore it as you approach Peach’s room.

[hello again its me, this is the end of the preview. there wasn’t much to it and it ends on such a Nothing note but i hope you liked it regardless. one day this will end up in the fic, but not anytime soon i think lol. i hope you have a good day/night.]

#the smashers and their host #fanfiction #super smash bros fanfic #tsath #super smash bros #fanfic preview

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years

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Grief and Love Shapes Us

When Kratos stays at Dirk's home, unable to follow the others to battle Mithos, he fully realizes the wisdom of the dwarf with the gentle hands of a craftsman - and Dirk is reminded how freeing it is to open one's heart.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Dirk/Kratos Aurion, Lloyd Irving Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: I was part of the Tales of Rarepairs event, arranged by @talesofexchanges! This was written for @theguineapig3! Thanks so much for this fun event. :D

“Already noticed the flowers wilting, haven’t ya?”

Ever since the man named Kratos visited his home, Dirk had already had his suspicions. The mercenary didn’t flinch, instead simply turning towards the dwarf who walked towards him and the gravestone. The white lilies on its well-tended grounds had already lost a few petals to the poor weather.

“Pardon me,” Kratos said, stepping back to allow the dwarf some room. “I did not mean to trespass onto your property like this.”

“Ah, maybe next time you’ll succeed in being a bit stealthier then.” Dirk gave a great grin as he said so, and the look of confusion that passed over Kratos’ face was so stark that it nearly made him laugh as well. But in just that particular shade of the moonlight, and the way it bounced off the man’s hair, Dirk could see those familiar features. Such details had grown under his eye for over a decade.

He replaced the flowers over the stone, feeling Kratos’ eyes track his every motion, a great weight felt within the silence paused between them.

“You knew the boy’s mother?” Kratos asked him, and in that tone, perhaps he hadn’t realized just how much he had revealed just then.

“For a short time – enough to give me her name and Lloyd’s.” Dirk stood back up, the dying flowers held in his thick hands, cradled carefully, for they still had their own uses in the garden. “All these years, I had a small worry if I had carved it correctly. Sometimes human names still go past me.”

A small thread through the night, seeking and gentle. Dirk only dared a brief glance towards Kratos before the human turned away, his steps as fleeting and light as a deer who had come upon something too close, much too close.

“It is,” Dirk heard. He let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding.

Perhaps from a certain standpoint, he could admit when one was being reckless. Lloyd had given him that depth of knowledge more than anyone else.

Kratos winced as he tried to move his leg, and from this other certain standpoint, he could see that it was a mistake. “Urgh…”

“What did I say about moving?” he heard echo from the hallway. Dirk opened the door to the room as he held a platter in his arms, with what looked to be a wooden bowl along with a mug of hot tea on its surface. “More likely to keep that leg splintered if you go rushing off.”

“I was doing no such thing,” Kratos argued, and wondered why he had to come off sounding like such a petulant child. “I was merely trying to get comfortable.” Another shift as the bed underneath him creaked. “I don’t think this bed suits my stature.”

“Aye, and it barely suits Lloyd either. Boy kept outgrowing how fast my hands could even build!”

Kratos leaned back, hitting his head smack dab in the center of the headboard where one potted plant was still placed. “I see…”

Though it was not only the bed, but everything else in this home that had been built by such steady hands, he realized.

This place was simply a wooden structure on the outskirts of Iselia, entrenched within a clearing in the woods, but it was only now that Kratos had ever truly gotten a view of what such a home was like. Where the sunlight pierced through the open balcony doors, where the leaves rustled during the night, like whispers in sleep.

It was oddly nice, to just sit here, in a simple place, and worry only about just how the sun would hit his eyes as he rested. That is, when he didn’t keep knocking over the plants that were next to him…

Luckily, his host paid no mind to such accidents, instead taking the wooden chair placed next to a work desk and bringing it closer to the bed. “This is no potluck surprise, but the broth should get rid of any chills you might be having.”

The scent of chicken and spices permeated the air, and somehow, it instantly made him more relaxed. Perhaps it was combination of the room he was in, along with the assortments of potted greenery. Dirk had insisted the man stay in this room, though he was worried as to how Lloyd would feel about such a thing.

“You know Lloyd would insist you rest up here too,” Dirk had told him once, right out of the blue. Kratos had not voiced such thoughts, yet the dwarf’s words gave him a relief he dared not even confirm. And perhaps, after giving Lloyd his sword, maybe his son would not mind him using the only bed in the home that was even close to holding his frame.

He brushed such things aside. Dirk was still holding the food, as patient as the ancient trees in the backyard.

“Thank you,” Kratos finally said. Sitting up was at least slightly less awkward then laying down, though he thought he felt his back creak from the effort. The dwarf placed the platter over his legs, not disturbing even a fraction of the hot liquids in their respective containers. Once again, the scent seemed to instantly relax him.

Kratos reached for the bowl of soup – but Dirk got to it before he could.

Confusion was plain on his features until he saw the dwarf dip a polished wooden spoon into the broth, then bring it near his face. “Careful, blow on it first.”

Oh, he was not this bedbound though…

“I promise you, I can feed myself quite well,” he argued, trying to sit up straight and ignore the fact that his legs nearly shifted the tray a few inches too far to the right. “It is only my leg that is injured, not my arms.”

Dirk chuckled. “Ah, can’t even spoil an old dwarf, can ye?” But the dwarf conceded, placing the spoon back into the brothy depths. “Just brought old memories of when Lloyd would be sick as well.”

Kratos could not completely curb the mixture of both jealousy and embarrassment in his mind, and cleared his throat well before he spoke again. “I am not so grievously ill, mind you. Simply a tenacious injury…”

“Brought on by my son,” Dirk finished. “It’s not surprising. That boy will never know when to give up. He once insisted on doing all of my woodcutting when I was finishing up a job for a client.” The dwarf shook his head, but laughed at the memory that only he could see. “Even I was surprised he was able to do all of it! Though he was foolish to not wear his work gloves during that time.”

Kratos listened aptly to such a story, questions rising in his head all the sudden. How old was Lloyd then? Had he stopped asking about his parents? Had he learned to call Dirk his father so readily?

But he didn’t, simply nodding. “Then it was a very good ideal you’ve taught him.” Though still, his leg was quite stiff, and the sword that had cut such a wound on him had been done so expertly. Had it been Lloyd’s skill? Or the power of his special Exsphere? Even now, Kratos still wondered… and then such thoughts fell away once Dirk cleared his throat.

“I taught him another ideal that I think you should be learning yourself.” He gestured at the tray still over Kratos’ legs. “Eat up and be well-rested.”

Ah, to be chided by another adult was quite embarrassing. But few times had Kratos felt so caught off-guard, and all by a dwarf’s well-meaning words and a smile that could only barely be seen through a thick beard.

“I will. I just-” But even the simple act of reaching for the spoon seemed to be a monumental task. The stiffness from his leg seemed to travel up his side, to grasp at his shoulders and make his fingers twitch. He groaned, exerting all he could to keep his body in place and not knock over the tray to the ground.

It made such little sense to him. He had only been injured at the calf. Why was his whole body betraying him like this? Another shift, and the mug upturned, spilling tea all over the tray. “Damn…”

But Dirk was quick, belied by his stature. A towel was already in hand as he went to pat away the liquid before it could trickle onto the bed. The mug was already in his right hand as he took it away. “There, no harm done. Even if the tea had spilled further, ya wouldn’t have been burned. No use brewing a cup that ya can’t even drink.”

Kratos said nothing at first, shame keeping him bound before it was enough. “Forgive me. It seems I’m more injured than I thought.”

“Luckily one of us is the better thinker here then,” Dirk chided, but with another smile thrown his way. “This is what happens when you try to go it alone, you know.”

The words flew over Kratos’ head so swiftly, that he could feel their metaphorical flightpath just through his hair. “I don’t follow…”

“Let me put it another way then.” Dirk placed the now clean mug on the work desk. There were the leavings of a tools over its surface; a box full of jewelry parts, a discarded chain, and half-cut gems, as if their crafter had been in a rush to leave, forgetful in putting them away properly. “Why do you think Lloyd was able to defeat you?”

Whether Dirk was asking him such a thing to humor the dwarf, or if there were any true wisdom here, Kratos couldn’t decipher. That, and he was still feeling rather exhausted. “Because… he has grown strong.”

Dirk shrugged. “Aye, you’re not wrong. But it’s not only that.” The dwarf raised a bushy eyebrow at him. “Come now! Isn’t it something you’ve taught Lloyd yourself?”

How lost Kratos was. Or maybe it was the way the dwarf was positioned, his broad arms crossed over his chest, sitting up straight and looking as thick as a mountain where not even the most furious Desian could throw him down. Perhaps, he was distracted by that gentle air of dignity then anything else.

“The lad would complain about that to me when he would come home.” Dirk then uncrossed one arm to clap the man’s shoulder with a rough pat. “Don’t overdo it.”

Of course Lloyd would vent about such a comment. Kratos sighed. “I only said such things so that he would be more careful…”

“And since when does such comments not apply to yerself?” Dirk shook his head, but with a familiar motion, with a wisdom that Kratos had eluded for thousands of years. “You have been going through so much alone. It is too much for just one man to bear. But Lloyd is smart enough to know that you need more than just yourself to get through life.”

Being rendered speechless was a bit of an understatement, yet Kratos couldn’t deny the truth ringing through Dirk’s voice. “I had no choice,” he excused.

“As I said before, Kratos, your determination is admirable.” The dwarf sighed, placing his hands on his knees. “But, that is why I have said ever since you’ve arrived, you must rest, and you must rest well.”

It was difficult to argue against. It wasn’t only the injury keeping him bound, he knew though he tried to deny, but of bone-wearying fatigue that had been weeks in the making. Of long days and nights searching for the materials to craft an ancient ring, of careful wording in his throat to avoid the suspicion of Mithos, of Lloyd, of everyone else. He had traveled to both worlds more than he had ever done in the last four millennia.

He was tired. So very tired.

Perhaps if Kratos hadn’t shed all his tears on that night over a decade ago, he would have done so now. But he felt Dirk’s gentle gaze, felt no judgement in them, despite everything that had occurred. He stared at the breakfast tray and at the soup that was no doubt growing cold. “It is a beautiful place you have here.”

He could hear the dwarf’s smile in his tone. “I put much pride into my work. When Lloyd finally settles to make that boat of his, I said I would help him with it.”

So he knew of that dream as well? Of course he would, for he was Lloyd’s true father. Even as he felt envy at that, he felt relief as well. “I will look forward to when it is complete then.”

“Ah, enough about that. Now will ya be finally eating or what?”

“Well, of course,” Kratos said, but how could he exactly? His hands still shook a bit.

He already predicted the answer before Dirk reached for the spoon once again, taking it in rock-steady hands.

The dwarf’s grin could be seen through his beard. “I promise ya, I have many years of experience.”

“I don’t doubt that…” Kratos said with defeat. “Don’t I still need to blow on it?”

“Of course. Unless you’re asking me to do it.”

Something about the image flustered Kratos just a tad. “No, no, I can…at least handle this.” Must I really be treated like a child?

But once Kratos finally conceded, it hadn’t truly been the worst. Despite still being a head shorter than him, Dirk held the spoon at perfect level each time it was brought to his mouth. The soup was only slightly less hot, warming him enough to make him feel sleepy. Or was it all of his years, catching up to him finally, after living for much, much too long?

Maybe Dirk had advice for such a thing, being long-lived himself. But it would be much too silly to ask.

“Good, ya even finished the whole thing!” Dirk spoke with pride as he placed the spoon in the empty bowl. “Now I can see where Lloyd gets it from.”

“I normally don’t eat so quickly…” Though that was all that Kratos would argue about, also a bit surprised at how famished he had been.

Then, something unexpected. He felt Dirk’s hand brush through his hair, firm but gentle. The slight pull relieved the tension in his skull, and the warmth he felt from such fingers made him lose his train of thought for an impactful moment.

He caught the rare flash of surprise on the dwarf’s face before the hand left him. “Ah, sorry about that,” he apologized with a soft chuckle, the kind that reminded Kratos of the distant boom of thunder from a short summer storm. “Old habits. Always gave Lloyd a pat on the head for finishing his meal.”

That would explain his appetite, but Kratos kept that to himself, not out of any worries. More so because he was still trying to process the feel of Dirk’s callused palm over his skin. “Think nothing of it. Thank you.” He cleared his throat, watching as the dwarf took the tray and mug, and left the room, keeping the door half-open in case the man needed to call out to him as he worked.

And yet…how could one man tell another that a touch from him made him feel oddly comforted? Kratos fell asleep with such a question held inside his heart.

Dirk had always felt more at ease with his hands, aged as they were. From forging broadswords to carving out the ancient runic structures on metal, he had kept them steady. So, of course, holding a spoon to feed another was simple to him.

Yet Kratos’ eyes had been very distracting.

Ah, but he was being foolish, and it was always said that dwarves such as he, of those who favored wood over iron (despite how well he handled both) were of the gentler sort. Or perhaps he needed to be, to care for a human child he had found hidden within the protective curl of an injured creature. One’s nature can always shift, always grow.

After washing the bowl and mug, Dirk went on to continue with his chores. The logs out in back still needed cutting, and Noishe’s stable also needed a bit of cleaning, with more fresh hay to give the poor whining dog a bit of comfort since Lloyd’s absence. After traveling as much as the he could with Lloyd, Noishe had finally reached a point where it would have been too dangerous for him to continue going.

That was what was Dirk’s home was filled with – two old men and a dog, who could only give Lloyd their best as he went forward on his journey. Yet still, was it not important to keep a home steady for when their son would return?

At that thought, Dirk paused in mid-action – a trowel in hand as he had been moving the soil from the garden that was at the front of his home. “Our son, huh,” he said, and true, Kratos was his father, and Dirk considered him a father to Lloyd in his own right. But hadn’t what he thought just now sounded as if they were married? Now, that was just silly.

It was almost too perfect when he heard the creak from the stairs inside the house, and the soft call that followed. “Dirk? Are you…?”

“Outside doing some gardening!” he boomed back, knowing that was more than enough for the man to hear. Though, he seemed to recall a story from Lloyd on how angels could hear much too well… Hopefully, he hadn’t just blown out the other’s eardrums just now.

Through the half-open door, Kratos appeared, walking with a slight limp, dressed in his shirt and trousers, his cape long discarded once he had stayed here. He gazed down at the dwarf doing just what he had said he was doing, so why the surprise on his face?

“Still not resting your leg, I see,” Dirk intoned with a smile. He was kneeling beside the garden bed, already abandoning the trowel to start using his gloved hands once the soil was loose enough. “You can’t rush yourself.”

He thought a caught a flush on Kratos’ cheeks, and the sight only made him smile more warmly, happy to have witnessed what he was sure was a rare sight. “My Exsphere heals my body more quickly than most. I am fine to walk for a little.”

“Got tired of being cramped on that bed?”

“…It is quite small for me.”

Dirk couldn’t resist a chuckle leaving him, but it felt good to have it bubble within his chest. The lilies in front of him stood out starkly against the dark soil, but some were entwined with the weeds that had snuck in and took root. Though it was more difficult than he expected, Dirk moved his focus from Kratos to the flowers that needed his care.

“There’s a small trail out in the back if you would like to get some fresh air. Monsters don’t come by at this part of the forest if you’re worried about such a thing.”

“I gathered it was more than safe here,” Kratos said, his gaze shifting to the trees and their outreaching boughs that just brushed against the rooftop. “Noishe wouldn’t be sleeping soundly otherwise.”

Another chuckle that was a bit harder than the last. “Ha! So you do have a sense of humor about you.”

The flush from Kratos was another reward on its own. “I didn’t really mean that as a joke…”

Dirk tried to refrain from teasing the man, but it proved to be too tempting. He still continued his work on the garden, dirt staining his elbow as he shifted plenty to get at a particularly stubborn weed – when he felt Kratos’ presence right next to him. This was followed by the man's knees creaking slightly from the strain.

"What have I said about pushing yourself?"

There was a pout – one that echoed such familiarity that Dirk already had another reprimand on his tongue. “I assure you I am feeling better. Besides, I am allowed to be curious.”

“Never weeded a garden before then?” Dirk chuckled. Gloved hands shoveled the dirt to get at the invasive little plants, their roots holding firm into the ground. “Even angels such as yourself must look at the earth every once in a while.”

“Well… my particular angelic role as kept me preoccupied.” A clearing of the throat as he looked at what Dirk was performing, fascinated by something as simple as gardening. “And even when I wasn’t one, I never found the window for such an opportunity.”

“A window? All ye need to do is look at the ground and start planting.” Dirk shook his head. Sometimes, humans still baffled him exceedingly. “No need to overcomplicate things.”

Kratos didn’t answer him. Instead, the man kept looking at the plants, eyes rapt on the lilies, petals hanging from the stem like arms reaching out.

“I would, like to help, if I may.” Kratos cleared his throat, looking as shy as if he were a child, caught in a secret he wasn’t sure if he should share. “These are for her, aren’t they?”

Dirk weighed on it, though it was not the answer he was pondering. He had already decided Kratos would help the moment the man had come outside, sensing his unspoken request. But with a nod, he then reached to grab a pair of gloves from his pockets and handed it to him.

“First, you must use the tools necessary. Calluses from sword work and from gardening are quite different.”

Kratos only hesitated a moment before he took them, and Dirk couldn’t help a strange sense of pride then. It was familiar again, this feeling of helping another. Lloyd had also been eager to try his hand at his work before boredom would strike him. Hopefully, Kratos would stay more invested.

“These dandelions are particularly nasty little things. Ya can only uproot them with your hands, and ya need to do so carefully. Already they’re trying to take up the other flowers’ space.”

“I see…” Kratos answered, as he tried to mimic what Dirk was doing but with halting motions. He grasped at one dandelion, the seeds already blowing and getting caught in his hair without him noticing. “It should be simple to-” He pulled, stopped, and creased his brows.

Dirk grinned. “Weeds stronger than an angel?”

“I am just… not at my full strength.” Another shift, but the roots stayed attached to the dirt. It was with a particular twist that Kratos finally got the dandelion out, more of the seeds floating away on the breeze. He half stumbled on his knees, but Dirk quickly reached out, grasping the man by the shoulders to keep him steady.

A pause, more than a few seconds of breathing, and then the dwarf reached out to brush the dandelion seeds out of Kratos’ hair, its auburn shade always echoing that familiarity.

“…Horticulture has never been one of my talents,” Kratos admitted, looking everywhere he could.

Dirk could only smile, feeling comforted at the shyness of it all. “Ya can be decent with some practice.”

Kratos did keep trying, rooting up the rest of the dandelions along with Dirk, and then following along as the dwarf took up a few pots to place some full-bloomed lilies within. He gave them to Kratos, no words exchanged, and gestured the swordsman to follow him to where the grave was. Noishe was already there, curled up around it, enjoying the heat of the sun beating over his fur.

Healing can take so much time, Dirk thought, watching Kratos place the flowers on the ground, watched the motions done so more easily, a calmness that had not been there before. But we all go at our own pace, don’t we?

It was at the age of ten that Lloyd had been the most mischievous he’d ever been, much to Dirk’s surprise.

By then, calling the dwarf his father was done so without any pause or hesitance, even when those in Iselia questioned so. It was with that same surety that he called Noishe his dog, the great creature three times larger than any dog that lived within the village, with fur as verdant as the hills they lived in.

But this was also when Lloyd had been more daring, sometimes sneaking the sacred Chosen away from her church lessons to play sword fights in the woods just outside of Iselia’s gates, or when he’d readily tell Dirk he had done all of his homework and then rush down the pathway towards Genis’ home to ask for help with such things. A time of evading chores, of staying up late to work at a project that took stock from the gems in Dirk’s workshop, or simply to seek out discoveries – for Lloyd, despite his energy, also got bored so very quickly.

That tendency to seek and disobey Dirk had seen in plain sight when he caught Lloyd in the dwarf’s room. It was a simple room, with just a bed, work boots placed to the side, and a cabinet off to the side with dwarven letters inscribed over its surface. Lloyd was holding precious papers in his hands, reading through them thoroughly as if suddenly he enjoyed the written word for the first time – all while the cabinet he had just lockpicked stood half open.

“Lloyd!” Dirk shouted, and all the papers went flying out of Lloyd’s hands, like a flock of birds heading towards the sunset.

“I-I didn’t do anything!” Lloyd swiveled around on his feet, half-leaning from a stumble he quickly saved himself from. “I was just… Um…”

The letters stayed uncrumpled at least. Dirk sighed, crossing his arms as he watched the boy fidget underneath his gaze, the scrape from an earlier tumble through the brush still plain on his face. The light from the gas lamp placed on the wall hook cast flickering shadows all around the room – his room. Not that Lloyd wasn’t allowed to be in it, but snooping around the corners was another matter entirely.

There were words that hovered on the dwarf’s tongue, ones that echoed for when Lloyd wouldn’t finish the vegetables off his plate, or when he didn’t wake up in time to get to school. But his eyes kept straying to the papers with their curved handwriting, the dates on them calling to his heart with a plethora of memories that felt as warm as the sunshine on his back when he cut the wood for the fireplace.

Dirk then bent down to pick up the papers, thumb lingering on a word he had brushed over by chance before reaching to another. Lloyd stood in silence, and that silence might as well have been as loud as the boy’s shouts when he’d practice his sword skills.

Then a small creak of the floorboards. Lloyd was on his knees, reaching for one paper that had slyly flew underneath the dwarf’s bed. “H-Here. Uh… sorry…”

Dirk gratefully took the letter from Lloyd, looking over the signature on the bottom with a fondness. He knew he should be disciplining Lloyd right now, but it was hard to do away with the smile.

“I’ve not seen these in several decades,” Dirk mused aloud, shaking his head. He slid the letter along with the rest. “It’s a wonder the parchment hasn’t turned to dust yet.”

He could tell that poor Lloyd was confused. Hands on his knees, he looked to the letters with the same curious gleam in his eyes as when he did so just moments before, reading the words underneath the flickering glow of the lights. At least from this, he now knew all those lessons on dwarven languages hadn’t been for nothing.

Dirk had to ask. “So, how much do you even understand?”

Lloyd started, eyes as wide as the gems he’d just started working with. “I didn’t read much! I swear!”

A few moments passed, Dirk as patient as stone. Lloyd fidgeted again, doing his best to not let his mouth betray him. “Okay, I read like five pages… This Deagen guy doesn’t write like the textbooks that we read in class.”

Ah, how long had it been since Dirk heard his name aloud?

“He was always a very spirited writer,” Dirk confessed. He chuckled, shuffling the letters once more. “Had a talent for the pen over the pickaxe, but it was one of the things I’ve loved him for.”

After reading through so much, even Lloyd must have gathered what the letters truly meant, and why they had been locked away in a soft leatherbound skin, to keep the sun’s rays from fading away the ink.

“So I was right! He was your husband, wasn’t he?” Lloyd grinned wide, as if he had just solved one of life’s greatest mysteries. “I thought so!”

“Very confident in that statement now, are we?”

“But it’s true!” Lloyd wouldn’t back down, eyes brighter than the fire in the forge. “It’s why you sometimes wear that ring when you’re working. How come I’ve never met my other dad?”

Oh, Lloyd was already dreaming and wondering, and Dirk almost felt cruel to bring such dreams back to humdrum reality. Yet to think he had noticed the ring, an old comfort for the dwarf that was hard to let go of. “Well, you are half-right, lad.” He nodded, getting to his feet while clasping the letters in both hands. “He was meant to be my husband – but he was only my betrothed.”

He could see the surprise on Lloyd’s face, but some things must be done first. Going to the cabinet, he placed the letters in their leather skin, tied up the string around it, then placed it back inside, along with old trinkets, old photographs, old friends that could not be brought back. There was a soft click of the cabinet lock mechanism working as he shut it away.

“Sickness took Deagen before we could make our vows.” The dwarf rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers – yet the smile remained on his face all the same. “But even in his final days, he would still write to me such poetry.”

“Oh…” He heard Lloyd’s soft intake. Once facing him, the boy looked flustered then, scratching the front of his scalp in nervousness. “Sorry, I didn’t know… The ring made me think that…”

A soft pat on his head by the dwarf’s great hand. “I should have answered your questions sooner, Lloyd. Sometimes, I still grieve, and the grief stays for too long.” He shook his head. “Despite it being over a century or more…”

“Whoa…and you still kept what he wrote to you?” Lloyd’s own reluctance was quickly being blown away, finding the opening to dive in and learn all that he could. “Did you write him back? I didn’t see any letters from you!”

“Aye, well that’s because he had them. That is the point of a letter, after all.”

“So you did write to him! About what?!”

Dirk made a show of thinking on the question, all while Lloyd looked up to his dwarf dad (that he was close to outgrowing), his feet shuffling on the floorboards in his excitement.

“I’ll tell ya… If ya do the gardening chores for the next three weeks.”

“What?! But that’s so much!” Lloyd pouted. “No way!”

“And no more lockpicking. Or are ye going down the path of thievery?”

“But that’s not fair! I didn’t lie-” Lloyd stopped, remembering what had just happened a few minutes ago. “Okay, never mind…”

All young children are curious at heart, and Lloyd’s heart was filled with it – and it was only right for a parent to nurture his child’s curiosity.

“You’ll really tell me then?” Lloyd asked, as if binding Dirk to a sacred promise.

The dwarf would treat it as such. “Of course. Gives this old man an excuse to talk for hours.”

When Lloyd was home, suddenly the previous quietude of the home felt more energetic. No longer was it just the sounds of Dirk’s hammer clanging away over the anvil, of Noishe’s soft whining on his lap when he visited Kratos in the room, or of the rhythm of bird chirping from the branches overhead. Lloyd stomped over the stairs as he rushed to pack his belongings, as he greeted Dirk each time he passed him by the forge, as he moved with renewed motivation for another journey out into the world.

Kratos, meanwhile, sat at the dining table, content to watch his son already make his decisions. As he would need to do so himself. His leg had healed up, in part by his Exsphere, but also by Dirk’s care.

Yet he wondered if it was more due to the latter…

“Krato- Uh, I mean, dad.” Lloyd ran up to him, still stumbling over the word that was both familiar yet not. But the effort was appreciated. “Here, I meant to give you this, since you have to go… It’s a wooden charm! Presea helped me out with the design a little, and since you’re giving me your pendant, I figured… well, you know.”

The gift was unexpected, but Kratos held out his hand to accept it – a polished piece of wood, set in the shape of a seed, with curves and sigils carved into its surface. A long piece of twine looped through a makeshift hole at the top of the charm, creating an intricately made necklace. Lloyd scratched his cheek, looking slightly nervous but eager all the same.

“You can adjust it to fit around your neck or wrist if you wanted! But, you don’t have to wear it at all, I mean.”

Kratos smiled. Even as his first instinct of denying he was not worthy of such a gift resurfaced (old habits), he instead tried to learn acceptance of himself. “Lloyd, thank you. It is more than enough for me.”

The pride on Lloyd’s face was nearly so infectious, a grin that sported a brightness matching the sun. “Hehe. I can help you put it on!”

Well, perhaps Kratos could go about acceptance a bit more slowly then. “Ah, I can do it myself-”

“Ay, now that’s nonsense.” The thick-accented voice of Dirk reverberated throughout the household, followed by his stomping footsteps. Even so the dwarf was at his side in barely a moment’s notice. “Allow me to help then. Can examine my son’s handiwork in the meantime.”

Kratos’ embarrassment must have been so plain on his face. He cleared his throat, but Dirk had already taken the wooden charm necklace, unfurling the string. “Really, I can do this myself…”

But he was helpless to Dirk’s smile, to his gentle hands as he shifted aside Kratos’ hair, sliding the necklace over him. He felt the other’s fingertips brush over him, even the frizzle of his beard that took up nearly half the dwarf’s face, yet it didn’t dim the other’s smile in the slightest.

Now why was Kratos so nervous over something this simple? He couldn’t understand it…

“Been improving, lad. Maybe Presea can be your new tutor.” Dirk tied the knot just at the base of Kratos’ neck.

“Told you I was getting better! I always made sure to practice while I was away.” Lloyd discussed with Dirk so easily, despite Kratos’ blush that must have been growing more obvious by the second.

Once Dirk stepped back, he let out a breath that had been held so long in his chest – and then inhaled again once the dwarf wrapped a friendly arm around him.

“You do make your fathers proud, Lloyd,” Dirk complimented, before looking down at Kratos. Seated at the table as he was, he was now, for the first time, at a lower height than Dirk. “Looks very fine on you, too.”

“I-” Kratos stuttered, cleared his throat again, feeling the cool surface of the wood against his collarbone, but remembering the warmth of the hands on him. “That is… It is only because of Lloyd that…”

“Learn to accept a compliment, why don’t ya?” A grin that could warm the ice on a chilly winter day. “A handsome man like you should be used to it.”

“That’s… not necessary…” But the arm around his shoulder felt so welcoming that he stayed in it, with no thought to leaving it just yet.

It took him a moment to remember that Lloyd was but a few feet away from them. He gazed back at his son, who was looking at the two very curiously.

“Huh, did I miss something…?”

Oh, I’m being a fool, Kratos thought with a bit of shame. But the arm only held him more firmly, so steady.

“Just a bit of fatherly bonding, is all,” Dirk told his son, with a confidence that Kratos wondered if he ever had in his entire life.

Lloyd blinked, angled his head just slightly – and then realization hit. “Ohh!” His grin was practically identical to Dirk’s. “I see! That’s great for both of you!”

With a cough, Kratos placed a hand over his forehead, unused to such vigor from so many at once. It is not even true, yet he accepts it so easily, Kratos thought, even as he felt a sense of relief. Or, was it true? He wasn’t even sure now.

“Does that mean you’ll send him letters too then?” Lloyd asked suddenly, eager just as before.

Kratos raised his head, once more left in the dark. “I’m sorry. Letters?”

Dirk’s grin stayed on, but with an air of fondness. The arm around him seemed to feel even gentler. “Aye, a bit of a story there. If ya want to hear, I could tell it.”

“Let me tell it! Let me!”

“Lloyd, don’t you have some packing to do still?”

“Aw, but I can tell it good, I swear!”

Kratos sighed, feeling a little weary, both for the situation and for what he would need to do once he made his own journey. But a smile finally graced his lips, hearing both Lloyd and Dirk chat away, still being held so close.

Maybe it was okay to be this happy, at least for a while.

#tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #dirk #kratos aurion #fanfiction

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