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odetojeons · 3 years

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ok ok ok but what kinks do you think mingyu has 👀👀

okay so i’m gonna start answering the requests now like i didn’t disapear for one month :’) and omg i’m excited. I already said this before, I think mingyu is more of a sub than anything, but there are times. there are TIMES. when he doms it’s not too kinky, it’s more like carnal and (very fucking) rough sex in which he gets too impatient to be a good boy and grabs you by the hips, takes what he wants and just completely destroys you,, ANYWAYS, you can read more of my thoughts here. Y’all better sit down and buckle up cuz I have A LOT to say about this man (especially with how fucking much I miss him).

Praise Kink — I HAD to start with this one. I think you can all agree with me how much Mingyu loves being praised. There is actually a video of him getting red all over and whining because he got too happy when he was praised by the other members and IT’S JUST SO CUTE. Mingyu would downright meowl every time you told him how much of a good boy he is and how he’s perfect, so pretty just for me. But I also think he would love to praise you too, wants you to know you’re everything he’ll ever need.

Pet names — Idk if this is considered a kink, but please, he gives me such vibes of being into the pet names puppy or pup. We all know he’s considered the puppy of Seventeen, so I think it suits him and his personality a lot, especially because I think he would be so horny and desperate when it comes to sex. Calling him baby boy, angel, sweetheart, he would love it so much. Although he would love to call you by cute names too, and I think his favorites would be princess, prince and my baby.

Degradation — HEAR ME OUT, I absolutely think he would love being degraded. I just,, I can’t even begin to explain how much I think he would enjoy that. Mingyu is just so dirty, he would go all red when you tell him how he’s the filthiest little slut or are you that desperate for me you can’t even stay still? while he humps his cock on the pillow, too needy to wait for your touches. He could even cum just from such kind of words, in all honesty I think this is one of his major kinks ever, not just the verbal aspect of it but also the physical part too.

Begging — Oh, yes. YES. Mingyu is all about begging. No matter how many times I think about it, I can absolutely hear his throaty and whiny voice saying please, please, please, let me cum, I have been so good, and he sometimes doesn’t even have to have a purpose or an incentive to do it, he just mumbles it without thinking like it’s the only word he remembers. It would come with the fact that he’s too horny for his own good, seriously, y’all don’t understand how much horny energy I feel this man exhuding.

Exhibitionism — We been knew how much he likes being watched. He may be shy about it, but I guess it can be related with his love for compliments. Although Mingyu would not only like people watching him, but also you as well. The way you move your body on top of him as you ride his dick, or the way he would put a hand on your lower back and make you arch impossibly more just so he could drill into you harder; the contrary of how he would cry and beg later when you edge him and tell him how much of a needy slut he is, being this desperate just because people are watching. ALSO ummm,, I try hard not to talk about other members here but, can I just say that I think him and Wonwoo are so much into watch each other fuck people. God, I even wrote like 18K words of porn of this particular thought. You can read it here.

Breeding Kink — Does this even need explanation? Mingyu would feel an almost animalistic need of putting as much cum inside you as he can. This would do as much as make him feral about it, when he has a stressing day or just because he wants to see his seed dripping out of your hole; no matter what compells him, it would get him aroused to the point where he wouldn’t even be able to wait until both of you get to the room, would rip and thorn both of your clothes off, put you on your knees and make you suck him off until he cums all over your face, just so he could fuck you against the wall afterwards. Which brings me to the next kink:

Strength/Size Kink — Well, is it possible to have a strength and size kink with yourself? Because he does. Mingyu would love to manhandle you around the place, fuck you against every surface of the house, especially if he gets to hold you up as your back is pressed somewhere. Not only that, but I also think it would be due to the movement of his hips. Or better yet; what comes after it. The way your ass and the back of your thighs would get red with how hard he’s thrusting into you, won’t be satisfied until you’re drooling because of his cock and simping for his muscles, bulging over the effort of fucking you. And I just know, I KNOW he would have a dirty mouth about it, would make questions like yeah? You like how strong I am? All this time on the gym gotta pay for something or falling appart on my big cock like you were made to, hm?. Fuck why am I like this. I LITERALLY BRING PAIN TO MYSELF.

Bondage — I think I’m writing too much so I hope y’all keep up with my horny ass, because I can’t stop until I say everything I want to say about him,, so, about this, Mingyu would love to tie someone up as much as he would love to be tied up... Okay, maybe I think he would love to be tied up more than tying someone up, if I’m being completely honest. He just gives this kind of vibes, maybe even as punishment for misbehaving, since he would sometimes be too desperate to wait like a good boy, and he knows you end up letting him take what he wants just because you would tie him up later and make him “regret” (the little shit would never regret anything, and neither would you).

Overstimulation/Edging — Oh, fucking definitely. I have this very vivid image of Mingyu sitting on a chair, hands tied up behind the chair back, legs spread and completely falling appart as you jerk him off. Flick your wrist faster and faster, just to get him on the edge and let go when he’s just there. Then, make that again and again and again, until he’s crying and begging for you to let him cum, and when you finally do, you only keep going, grip unforgiving. Watching his labbored breath of relief turn into little meowls, hips jerking away or closer, none of you are quite sure, but he wants it, saying don’t stop more like a moan than actual intelligible word.

Pegging/Anal Sex — Mingyu would be so shy about it at first. He would come to you, mumbling words you struggle to understand and cheeks burning red, until he manages to get out he wants you to fuck him. But oh lord, when he tries it out he would go absolutely insane. I really think he would be into it, into you rocking your hips and nudging your cock (plastic or not) against his prostate. Just imagine him with a dark blush all the way down to his chest, little whines and meowls that sounds too high and sweet for his own ears, body writhin all over the bed and fists clenching the mattress as his back arches. So damn cute and hot at the same time :( he just wants to be taken care of sometimes, being able to just lay down and have someone fucking him to oblivion.

Power Play — More like fighting for power to be honest. He really enjoys subbing, but when he does it he wants you to put him on his place, because Mingyu is irrevocably and completely a brat. He would tease you to the point where it drives you insane, just so you could snap at him and take what you want, as much as he loves when you do the same to him.

Spanking — Hmmm Mingyu and spanking. And he would do it hard. Full on open fingers going down on your ass until he leaves his handprint. To be honest, I totally think he’s the kind of boyfriend who would be possessive, wants his marks all over you neck and body, however, oh however, I also think he really really reeeeeally love when you do it to him. Everything, from the crescent shaped marks on his back, to the bite on his shoulder you accidentaly gave him when he was fucking you on missionary position, to the mark of your fingers on his cheek when you slap him for being a brat. Okay I kind of lost myself in the kink but yes. Mingyu and spanking.

Double Penetration — HOLY SHIT please tell me you agree with me. Like, fuck, there’s this evil side of him who wants to see you being speared open in more than one cock, wants to see you fucked into another dimension and reduced to an incoherent drooling mess, and it’s just so dirty of him, usually possessive and guarded, to let someone else get their hands on you just so he could watch you fall apart with two cocks. Or even him alone with a dildo, what it matters is to have two things inside you absolutely wrecking you. Or him. Oh shit why did I have to say that cuz now the image of him being double penetrated won’t ever leave my mind IT IS BURNED BEHIND MY EYELIDS FOREVER. Bye.

Choking — You damn right I think about his hands on my neck all the time. They look so big, and I’m sure it’s also something of his size kink, seeing his huge hands wrapped around your throat would make something ugly, something hot burn in the pit of his stomach. You doing it to him too, especially when he’s tied up, only being able to take what you’re willing to give him.

and that’s that! sorry (?) for writting too much, this always happens when I stay too much time without writting any filth,,, last time that happened, I speant two years without any smut so then I wrote 18K words of porn in two days (no, I didn’t sleep) AND I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WRITTING HALF OF IT??? and the time before that, I simply wrote 12K words. what is wrong with me. anyways!! hope you liked it, tell me what you think and your opinions too!!

#seventeen imagine #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagine #mingyu #svt smut #svt x reader #svt imagines

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

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Held in the Night - Thranduil

Thranduil catches you stealing something that belongs to him.

With the ring held tight in your grasp, you crept away from the bedside table. Yet, as you retreated, you could not help but sneak one last glance at the sleeping form. Resting his head on the plush pillow, a mere arms length from where you stood, was Thranduil. His eternally young face looked softer somehow as he dreamed. For a moment, you dared to admire his features: the gentle curve of his pink lips, the thickness of his brows, and how his eyelashes fanned out against his pale skin. How strangely beautiful Thranduil was.

So rarely did he sleep, being an Elf and the King of the Woodland Realm. His lack of rest made sneaking about Mirkwood quite difficult for you. In the halls, you saw him around seemingly every corner; in the shops, you saw his advisors. When you had finally managed to sneak without being seen, especially now with the ring in hand, you were eager to savor the little victory. Though, it would be short lived if you risked lingering any longer.

Quickly, you looked around the room. Thranduil’s room was elegant, walls and floors made of polished, white wood. Large, arched windows let in natural light during the day and during clear nights, like this one, moonlight. Even a few steps away from the windows, you could see how the stars shone through the glass like far off snowflakes against the dark sky.

Night, with it’s reaching shadows, would mask you well enough. Carefully, you crept on the tips of your toes towards the windows. Between the shining glass panes, the doorway to the balcony was open. The curtains, wispy and white, billowed slightly in the breeze like fabric tendrils coaxing towards a daring escape. As you moved stealthily across the royal bed chambers, you heard the rustling of sheets.

Checking over your shoulder you saw that the noise came from Thranduil, who had shifted in his slumber. One of his arms was outstretched towards the empty side of the bed. Slender fingers brushed against the sheets as if he were searching for someone to hold. Your chest warmed at the sight, but your forced it down. There was no time to linger and fawn over the king; you were set on your own little mission.

Without a sound, you made your way out to the balcony. A peek over the edge set your sense of balance on the edge of a sword. You gripped the railing, a large, curved tree branch, to steady yourself. The forest floor outside the royal keep seemed to rush up at you. To mitigate the tilting feeling that overwhelmed you, you closed your eyes.

Fast and strong, your heart beat roared in your chest until you could hear it, the blood rushing, in your ears. After a moment, you opened your eyes; but you did not dare to look over the railing again. With the height unnerving you so, you squeezed the hidden ring a bit tighter as if it ensured you would not drop it. Cool metal dug into the meat of your palm and you winced.

Once you felt relatively sure footed, you uncurled your fingers to reveal the silver band. Intricate carvings decorated the metal. Curved leaves, varying in shape and species of tree, were casted to the band. Oak, birch, and even a bunch of pine needles; every tree in Mirkwood was reflected on the ring with a mastery that rivaled the Dwarven forges.

You traced your fingertip along the edge of each leaf, wondering what tool could shape such small details. Stems that would connect to branches seemed to reach for long lost, unforged metal trees. Fibrous veins stood out in the otherwise smooth, metal leaves like lightning strikes engraved. It was made for a king, the king, to match him in his beauty. Though, with Thranduil, that would be impossible.

No amount of shining rings or gleaming gems could meet the Elf king’s grace. You had seen him, dressed in the simplest tunics, wandering about his kingdom looking like glittering gold. How effortless he was, how he moved. That sort of beauty could not be replicated or adorned. Thranduil’s beauty came from something else entirely and it gave him power the likes of which you had never seen before arriving in Mirkwood. The old lords of Men often created fear to rule so completely. With Thranduil, ruling came naturally, his power innate.

Studying the ring closer, a nervousness twisted your gut. What would the King of the Woodland Realm do with a scrappy piece of jewelry? Perhaps you picked the wrong one. Maybe there was a more luxurious article of finery you had missed. One that would drive a harder bargain, yes, but one that would be more-

“Plotting an escape?” His voice, low with the trailing of sleep, made you jump. On instinct, your fingers curled around the ring, holding it tight and obscuring it from view.

Slowly, sheepishly, you turned on the pads of your feet. There, standing in the doorway connecting the royal chambers to the balcony, was Thranduil. Blond-white hair was messier than usual due to his trance-sleep but the alertness in his piercing blue eyes told you there would be no evading him. He raised a dark brow at you as he waited for your reply.

“No, simply enjoying the night air.” You nodded your head towards the sky. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“Hmm, yes,” as he hummed, Thranduil stepped out on the balcony to join you. There was enough of a breeze to stir the white silk robes he wore, even exposing some of the pale skin of his chest to the starlight. You felt your breath catch at the sight and tore your eyes away.

Fearing he might somehow catch a glimpse of the ring, you turned so you faced the outside world. You could see the tops of Mirkwood trees in the moonlight and hear the chirping of some nocturnal bird. To calm yourself, you focused on the sound and made your heartbeat ease by falling into the rhythm of your forced, long breaths. This attempt to soothe yourself proved to be in vain the moment Thranduil wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Not quite as beautiful as you,” he whispered.

As he spoke, his lips brushed against your ear and his breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck. You couldn’t help but lean back against him. In Thranduil’s arms, held to his chest, you felt the safest in all of Middle Earth. You could feel the strong planes of muscle that made up the king’s torso. How you longed to turn in his arms, run your hands over his chest and shoulders. Yet, you were frozen, thundering of your heart acting as a reminder of your hidden trinket.

“You flatter me.”

“You make it easy,” he replied smoothly. He pressed his face into your hair and held you impossibly close. “Though, if I did not know better, I would call you a thief.”

“A thief?” You stiffened before you turned in his arms at the accusation. How could he know already?

Thranduil smiled down at you with strands of fine blond falling in front of his face. Unable to help yourself, you brushed your fingers through his soft hair and tucked the loose strands behind his pointed ears. Ever so slightly, your fingertips brushed against the shell of his sensitive ears. The feeling made him shudder against you, even closing his eyes for a moment.

You smiled when he opened his bright blue eyes. In them, you saw a gentleness Thranduil reserved only for you. It was the same look he would send your way at galas, when he was bored with the tales told by travelers in his kingdom. That look made you feel like the most important person in any room. Simply because you knew Thranduil as no one else did. You knew his nature, his wants, his loves, and his possessive streak.

So, you were not surprised to feel his hands resting against your hips, fingers pressing into your clothes, lightly into your flesh. With one tug, you knew he could pull you back to him if he so pleased.

“I am no thief,” you stressed, fingers tightening around the ring. True, the price of the jewelry was a steal but you had not stolen it. Perhaps Thranduil meant something else by his teasing allegation. But what?

“I know guilt and worry when I see it. You would make a shoddy crook.” You opened your mouth for a silent gasp. Offended, you softly slapped a hand against Thranduil’s chest. Your other hand remained at your side, clasped firmly shut, still holding the ring.

“A crook,” you couldn’t help the smile that spread on your lips, a mixture of nerves and joy. “What am I guilty of then?”

Thranduil’s little grin suddenly faded. His feature grew sharp and serious as he leaned down towards you. As he grew closer you couldn’t help but steal glances at his lips. The looks did not go unnoticed by the Elf king. He teased you with his proximity, brushing the tip of his nose against yours before he finally spoke.

“Of stealing my heart away.”

You met Thranduil’s gaze one last time and, before your eyes closed, you saw only heart aching sincerity. He pulled you flush against him, as close as he could get you, for a searing kiss. Slotted perfectly together, you wished for the rest of the world to melt away. Leave only you and Thranduil behind, together like this forever. That alone would be enough.

Both of your hands moved to rest on his chest. The one still holding the ring was still curled into a tight fist; the other was an open palm. Thranduil’s lips moved from yours to your jaw, barely brushing the top of your neck. The feeling birthed a jungle in your belly. A jungle full of butterflies that tickled your insides with excitement. Only Thranduil could make you feel such want, such glee. When he pulled away from your neck, you were left near breathless.

“I do not want it back,” he continued, leaning down to capture your lips with his for a precious few seconds. “Keep it for when I feel I cannot love.”

“You always love, Thranduil, despite how hard you try not to.” At your words, the Elf king pulled back. His hands went yours that still rested against his chest. His fingers slid around your wrists, stroking the skin of your forearms as lightly as a breeze. One curious touch and he would find the ring. Though, Thranduil had turned your attention away from your ‘stolen’ surprise.

“Tis you that loves in every moment, every minute, every day. And I love you for it. What could I, what...what is this?” One of his finger taps your closed fist and you feel your face warm. “Perhaps you are guilty after all, meleth nîn?”

“I fear I may be,” you reply as you pull your hand free from his. Shyly, you uncurl your fist to reveal the silver band of metal leaves. “I had this crafted for you. In honor of our union, tomorrow.”

Thranduil, smiling, covered your hand and the ring with his own hand. “Today.”

“What do you mean?”

Thranduil turned you in his arms so that your back was pressed against his chest once more. From the edge of the balcony, vertigo forgotten now, you saw the first hints of a sunrise. Many years ago today, Thranduil became yours and you, his. His hand moved and he slid the ring over one of his fingers. The silver metal shone in stark contrast to his pale skin. He made the ring look beautiful, worthy of his wearing.

“I love this gift,” he whispered, his voice low and warm in your ears. You feel Thranduil press a kiss to your hairline as you watch the sunrise. “I love you more.”

“I love you, Thranduil.” After a moment, you feel his fingers skirt along your jaw and your chin. He tilts your head so that you have to look up into his face. His blue eyes are merry, bright, as he stares loving down at you. A few moments of just watching each other pass before Thranduil closes the gap with another, long kiss.

So, you were a crook, not in the traditional sense. But you would happily steal kisses from your king any day.

AN: “meleth nîn” - “my love”

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maliceinborderland · 3 years

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From Here, to the Moon, and Back

Summary: A collection of moments in Niragi’s journey raising his daughter alone.

Word Count: 7,066

Warnings: brief mentions of character death(reader is deceased), mentions of depression, bit of swearing

Genre: Single Dad Niragi AU, oofc Niragi, slight angst, slice of life, fluff, some crack ig?

**oofc : out of character

A/N: this took me FOREVER to post. I wanted to make this MUCH longer and go more into detail as well as provide more dialogue but this new post restrictions are killing me. I might turn this into a mini series in which y’all give me prompts and I write more extensive scenarios depicting those situations/prompts. ALSO: the depiction of Niragi in this fic is akin to what I believe his behavior outside of the borderlands. **spoiler** he is nothing like his borderlands self in the real world, and he doesn’t even remember his action that took place there nor did they actually happen as they occurred in a different plane of existence **end of spoiler**

A soft, whimper snapped Niragi out of his slumber. He slowly sat up in bed, strands of his unruly hair falling over his eyes. The whimpering continued as he got up and walked to the crib by the window.

He stared at Tsuki as she wriggled about, her cheeks bright pink and small droplets forming at the brims of her wide eyes. She stared up at him, her lip quivering, not yet crying.

“What gives?” he said, quietly, more to himself than to her.

Niragi checked her diaper to see if she needed changing. Clean and dry.

He went to the changing station next to the dresser, fetching a clean bottle, formula, and a bottle of water. Already second nature, he prepared a bottle for her. He made his way back to the crib, nudging the bottle’s nipple against Tsuki’s mouth, to no avail.

“Come on, kid.” he mumbled. “We both need to sleep and you’re not exactly helping me out here.” He sighed and found her pacifier somewhere by her feet. Oddly enough, she suckled on it no problem.

What a weird kid, he thought, shaking his head.

He let her lay there, hoping she’d end up falling asleep. He made his way back to his own bed, throwing himself face down onto the mattress, releasing a deep breath.

A few minutes later, having felt like seconds, Tsuki began to softly whimper again.

Niragi groaned into his pillow. Just one night of peace and quiet. That’s all he wanted.

He debated on letting Tsuki cry it out as he had been. Deep down he knew it was wrong, but he just didn’t know how to go about this parenting business.

Tsuki’s whimpers rose in volume, her whimpering becoming full fledged cries, and hopelessness began to overwhelm him.

Niragi crawled out of bed once again, and loomed over her crib, his breath heavy, teeth clenched. His fingers curled over the rails of the crib, his knuckles white. Tsuki’s cries continued, and Niragi felt himself starting to completely lose it. His breathing became shallow and heavy, and he felt lightheaded.

He sunk to the floor, his back against the railing of the crib, tired out of his mind. His eyes ached and throbbed from lack of sleep, eyelids heavy, and his body felt like it was being weighed down from exhaustion.

He just wanted to rest. Just a little bit.

He wanted to go numb.

He wanted to feel nothing.

He wanted everything to stop.

Just a few moments of peace and quiet was all he wanted. He just wanted to sleep and forget the reality he was condemned to live in.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, what sins he committed that he was atoning for now.

Stop… just stop… be quiet…. he thought.

He pressed the palms of his hands against his ears, covering them.

Be quiet, he begged silently. Please just be quiet.

Tears began to threaten to fall from his own eyes.

If she was here, she’d know what to do, he thought. She should be here.

Tsuki’s cries became piercing and impossible to drown out.

Niragi stood up almost too quickly, stumbling slightly over his own feet, and leaned over the crib railing.

“What? What?! WHAT?!” He asked, a little too loudly. “You’re not messy. You’re not hungry. You won’t sleep. Just what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Tsuki’s cries hushed, and the baby girl looked up at him eyes wide, her lip quivering.

Whether she stopped crying to listen to him or because she was afraid of him, Niragi couldn’t tell.

Tears began to spill down his face.

“I’m trying. I’m fucking trying.” He cried. “I don’t know what to do. Do you think I wanted this? No! I wasn’t even ready for kids! But your mom…” his voice broke, “your mom wanted you so bad. And I went along with what she wanted. Mommy always got what she wanted, and now look! She’s not even here! How fucked is that?!” Sobs began to bubble up from his throat. “How could she leave like that?” He rested his head against the railing, allowing himself to let it all out. He didn’t care how loudly the sobs ripped out of his throat, he just couldn’t hold back.

The whimpering began again, and he looked at the baby girl with his piercing eyes.

“What? What do you want?!” He yelled, and Tsuki became silent once more as she stared up at her father, their gazes connecting.

He looked over her. She’d grown quite a bit in the past few weeks. Her downy hair had thickened, and was nearly a full head of dark, raven colored hair. Her milky skin was tinged bright pink from her crying, especially near her eyes and cheeks. But his heartstrings tugged as he looked deep into her eyes. Your eyes. Sure, they resembled his eye shape more, but the gaze, color, lashes, and depth… that was all you.

She stared up at him so intently and after what seemed like an eternity, Niragi felt like he understood.

“You just want someone to hold you, huh?” A stray tear fell from his right eye. Carefully, he did his best to lift Tsuki out of the crib, her whimpers shushing altogether. “That’s all you wanted, huh? It’s what you needed?” He felt a knot form in his throat again, and more tears began to fall. “Me, too.” He gingerly caressed her cheek, his scarred hands a huge contrast compared to her soft, unblemished skin.

How could he have been so careless?

He hadn’t been the only one hurting.

He wasn’t the only one who missed you.

Slowly, Niragi began to softly rock her back and forth in his arms as he paced around the room.

“You wanna know how Mommy and I met? Hm?” He asked her. “We met at a support group. There was an accident a few years ago in Shibuya, and your mommy and I got caught in the middle of it. That’s how I got all these scars, you know? Your mommy had some, too, but she was still the most beautiful person in the room. Always.” He smiled down at Tsuki, who had begun to coo quietly. “She asked me out first, too. I thought she wasn’t serious, but she was. My scars aren’t so bad right now, but they were back then. She still saw something in me, though. Something worth loving. We loved each other a lot.” Tsuki took hold of Niragi’s finger, squeezing it tightly. Niragi went on to tell her several stories of how he and you started off your relationship, your milestones as a couple, and even your wedding. “When your mom told me she was pregnant, I was scared shitless, but you know what? We loved each other. And it’s because we loved each other that you exist. You were made out of love, Tsuki.” Niragi stood by Tsuki’s crib, where moonlight from the window began to pour in.

He shifted the curtain open a bit more, the moon coming more into view. “You see the moon? That’s where mommy is, along with all the stars in the sky. And you wanna know what else? There’s a famous quote about it. ‘月が綺麗ですね(Tsuki ga kirei desu ne?).’ You know what it means? It means ‘the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?’ But you know something really cool? It’s that some people use this phrase to tell each other they love each other. Like their love is so true and obvious just like how there’s no doubt in the moon being beautiful. That’s why we named you ‘Tsuki,’ you know?”

Tsuki cooed curiously at the repetition of her name, but her eyelids began to flutter with sleepiness.

“For us, your mom and I, nothing was more certain than our love for each other and our love for you.” He gave her a sad smile, shifting his weight as he lay himself on the bed, with her resting on his chest. Tsuki wriggled a bit as she settled into the unfamiliar position but ultimately sighed with content.

Niragi did his best to find a position ideal for the both of them without jostling her too much and being as gently as he could, so as to not disturb Tsuki. He looked down at her and he was met with her tired gaze. Tsuki sighed deeply, bewildering Niragi completely, because frankly, he didn’t know babies could make such deep gestures. The corner of his mouth lifted. She was a weird baby, indeed.

He felt her muzzle up against his chest, cooing quietly. He chuckled softly, his fingers twitched and he reached his hand up to place the palm of his hand over her small back, lightly patting. He’d seen people do it in movies to try and coax babies to sleep, but he’d only ever done this action when trying to burp her, so he figured he ought to give using it to put her to sleep a shot. Niragi watched Tsuki’s eyelids flutter shut with a deep exhale.

She had been tired, too.

Niragi felt his heart swell at how Tsuki looked as she slept. The way her lashes lay flat against her cheeks, how her lower lip pouted out in her sleep. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the light thrumming of heart against his chest.

This little girl was his world.

“I love you, you know? I love you so much, Tsuki.” he hummed, as he gently rubbed circles on her back. “From here, to the moon, and back.”

Niragi had done his best to figure out how to manage on his own, doing his best to limit the amount of phone calls he made to either Usagi or Arisu with panicked parenting questions.

Tsuki was a relatively easy baby to take care of. She was quiet for the most part, only becoming fussy when she was hungry or sleepy. Her sleep schedule seemed to have adjusted to Niragi’s, as he had found that the kid could only really fully fall asleep if she slept on his chest. Sometimes he took advantage of her midday nap to catch a few Zs himself.

Niragi also found that she didn’t particularly like not having him where she could see him. She was a clingy little freak. He didn’t mind having her around though, and would often sit her on his lap while he worked at his desk. Sometimes he’d offer commentary as to what he was doing to the games he was working on, or what he’d fixed to make them run smoother. He knew Tsuki didn’t understand, but when she’d gurgle or make baby noises while he talked, he almost felt like she was responding to his conversation. Whenever he’d play video games himself, he’d still keep her on his lap and he found it amusing how entranced she’d become by all the colors and flashing lights coming from the monitor. Cutely, she’d giggle and kick her feet whenever Niragi would voice his excitement in the games he was playing. Clearly she found him entertaining.

When it came to eating, there wasn’t anything Tsuki wouldn’t eat. Except peas. She really hated peas. The one time he tried feeding her pea Gerber, she ate it just fine, only to spit it all back up on one of his only white t shirts. He assumed the experience of having to eat such an atrocious mash traumatized the poor kid because when he tried feeding them to her again, she just about slapped the pack out of his hand and refused to open her mouth to accept the spoon, even if he made airplane noises. She usually got a kick out of those.

Still. Niragi learned quickly.

He had come across a baby book you had put together with spaces left blank for pictures and writing, meant to document Tsuki’s milestones. He’d made sure to keep it up to date as much as he could. He’d managed to capture pictures of the first time she tried solid food(which was really just a piece of fruit she tried sucking on), the stunned look on her face when she’d gone to get her vaccines and to his surprise she did not cry, he also captured the first time she sat up on her own, and another where she was midway to rolling on to her back, one where she was aggressively nibbling on her foot, he also included a few selfies in which he’d caught her tugging on his nose ring or one of his many ear rings. The kid liked shiny things. He knew that you’d have gone crazy trying to fill the book up, wanting to capture every moment.

At 9 months old, Tsuki learned how to crawl. The way Niragi found this out was rather unconventional.

He could have sworn he set her down in the living room. On the carpet right in front of the TV. He knew exactly. Why was there no baby there? All he’d done was leave her there for 5 minutes while he answered the door to receive and sign for a package and as soon as he’d come back she was gone. There was no one else in the house. She couldn’t have moved on her own.

Could she?

“Tsuki?” He began to call out.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Niragi ran through the kitchen, checking under the table, inside the pantry, nothing. He continued to call out to her, staying quiet enough to try and listen for a response, but nothing ever came. His socks slid across the floor as he ran into the nursery. A few toys were laying on the floor but no baby in sight. He poked his head into the bathroom, checking behind the clothes hamper, and inside the bathtub, with no luck. He checked the laundry room, inside the clothes baskets, inside the washer and dryer, hoping she hadn’t crawled in there.

Thankfully, she did not, but still he had not found her.

“Listen, kid, your papa’s not really into hide and seek, so if you’re hiding, you best come on out before I totally lose my shit.”

He ran to his room, this time stumbling onto his knees before running into it only to see that it was perfectly empty. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and dialed.

“Hello? Niragi?” Her voice sounded tired, almost as if she was just waking up.

“KUINA! I NEED YOUR HELP!” He was beginning to panic.

“Sheesh! Not so loud, you’re gonna busy my eardrums!”

“It’s Tsuki! I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Where’d you leave her? Are you sure your mom or Yuzuha didn’t pick her up?” Her tone was a little too cavalier for his taste, especially in the situation he found himself in.

“I left her in the living room, and I left to answer the door, and when I came back she was gone! I looked everywhere! The kitchen, the bathroom, my bedroom, her bedroom, the laundry room, the fucking closets.”

“Did you leave your back door open? Could anyone have gone inside at any point?” Her voice sounded more awake, now assessing the situation.

“Yes! It’s locked and dead bolted. No one’s been in here other than me and her, so unless someone climbed through a fucking window-“

“Okay, smartass, just check the rooms again. UNDER the furniture this time. Maybe she crawled under somewhere.”

“I told you I checked everywhere!” He checked under his bed, just in case, to find nothing. He walked through the rooms again, looking under furniture, to no avail. “The kid’s gone! I’ve got to call the police and make a report-“ he got to the end of the hallway and noticed the door to his study was slightly ajar, a faint glow coming from the dark room. No...

“What are they gonna do? You said no one’s been in or out of your house. God, how irresponsible could you have been to leave a baby on her own, Niragi?”

“Kuina, I’ll call you right back.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOULL CALL ME BA-” he hung up, cutting her off.

He walked into his dimly lit office, the faint glow of the tv he kept in there lightly lighting up the room.“Tsuki?”

He heard a soft mumbling coming from the room, and as he moved further inside, he saw his daughter on standing while holding on to the couch. She turned her little head to face him, his game controller in her hands, before letting herself fall back on her behind to sit on the floor.

“Uhhuh banana pplllbt,” she mused in her baby speak. Without so much as a glance his way, she began to chomp down on the controller with her gums.

“God damn it, kid!” He groaned in frustration. And relief. He sunk to the floor, running his hands through his hair, breathing shakily. “Holy shit.”

This caught Tsuki’s attention, and she released the controller to crawl his way. Despite his racing heart and frustrations, Niragi watched in awe as his little girl crawled his way. She giggled and squealed as she did so, clearly excited that she had learned something new. As soon as she got to where his legs were, she sat up and outstretched her little arms up at him, asking to be picked up, to which Niragi obliged. He held his little girl close to him, gently combing down her unruly hair. “You really had me scared for a minute, kid.” Tsuki cooed up at him. “Yeah. How’d you learn to move around like that, huh?”

He knew she was around the right age to start moving around, but he hadn’t really mentally prepared for it to actually happen. He did his best to read all the books and guide her so that she stayed at the same pace as other babies, but he still found himself in awe when she succeeded. All of the reading in the world, however, didn’t prepare him for what she did next. She bounced on his lap, reaching up to touch her baby hands up to his face. “Paaa... paaa... baba..”

His eyes widened. She mumbled things all the time. Ma, ba, ga, goo, all sorts of noises. But that felt a little too... smart. She had looked right at him, pointed at him and everything, and said what sounded like papa. That was too much of a coincidence. “Kid, you can’t play with Papa’s emotions like that. I’m not ready.”

“Papapa?” She repeated, smacking her little hand on his face.

“Are you seriously saying what I think you’re saying? Or am I crazy? I’m crazy aren’t I?”

“Papa!” She called out, giggling.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He held his little girl close, doing all he could to not cry.

Niragi learned that Tsuki didn’t like strangers. She wouldn’t get too fussy, but she hid in the crook of his neck whenever they were out and she didn’t recognize the people that approached them.

She also got visibly excited when she did recognize people. Especially Kuina, or “koo” as she managed to say. Y/N had told her early on in the pregnancy that she hoped Kuina would be the baby’s godmother, and this was a role she took very seriously, always coming to visit with tons of toys and clothes. Kuina’s mother also deeply grew to love Tsuki, often sending food and side dishes with Kuina for them. Tsuki wasn’t particularly fond of her doctor, Dr. Chishiya. Matter of fact, she often kicked or smacked his hands away whenever he tried checking her, and only really let him do anything if he bribed her with candy. One time, he tried carrying her to put her on the baby scale, and pulled on his hair right at the root, causing him hand her over back to Niragi and say “I don’t need to check. She’s healthy enough,” whilst rubbing at his head.” Niragi noticed that the doctors and nurses made a point of tying their hair up whenever Tsuki was around for an appointment.

“Serves him right for prancing around with that mane of his. He reminded you of one of your dolls, didn’t he, Tsuki?” Niragi didn’t quite like him either at first, but the doctor had understood their situation and made himself available 24/7, which led to Niragi considering him as a family friend, much to the doctor’s chagrin.

“She can call me Uncle Shuntaro.” He had said whilst visiting the Niragi home after Tsuki had a late night fever. Despite her little attitude, Dr. Chishiya had developed a sort of liking to the kid. She had character, he thought.

“She can barely say Papa, and you expect her to say that mouthful, Shuntaro?” Niragi asked, incredulously.

Chishiya eyed him coldly with his feline eyes. “I said SHE could call me that. Not you.”

As Tsuki’s first birthday approached, no one really knew how to ask Niragi on whether they’d be having a birthday party for her. After all, it wasn’t just Tsuki’s birthday. It also marked the first year anniversary of you being gone. He had done his best to not think about it, even with the lack of prompting from the others, but this was something he still kept in mind. Birthdays only came once in a lifetime, but then again, so did a love like the one you and he had shared. How could he celebrate one while ignoring the other, or have a service for you and not doing anything for his daughter. He loved you both more than life itself.

He came up with a plan to try and do both. He wanted to make it a day for you both. So, Niragi had packed a bag for Tsuki and taken her on a tour of all the places the two of you frequented as a couple.

He took her to the arcade the two of you had gone on your first date, telling her of how you’d kissed his cheek when he managed to get the high score on the Alien FPS game. He took her to the cafe the two of you had often gone to during your lunch hours, and even fed her a bit of the filling from the egg sandwich you used to like so much. He found that Tsuki liked it a lot too. He took her to the botanical gardens. You had absolutely loved flowers and the two of you had gone almost every weekend. He took her to the zoo and made a point to take her to the aquatic exhibits and tell her how much you loved water animals, especially how “mama loved how cute the seals looked when they bounced all over the place.” He made sure to buy Tsuki a white seal plush at the gift store. He took her to an old video store, where the two of you often found yourselves on boring nights without much to do and had filled the void with movies. He bought copies of a few of your favorites, along with a few of his, making a mental note to watch them with Tsuki when she was old enough. Lastly, he took her to the carnival. He didn’t play any games, but he walked by them and told Tsuki all about which ones the two of you would play together. He told her about how he couldn’t explain how, but the two of you had always been drawn to this place and how free you both felt being here, almost as if you’d been there together in another life. He showed her the old swinging pirate ship and he told Tsuki about how it was your favorite ride and how one time you rode it so many times that you ended up puking cherry icee all over the side of the ride. He’d never seen so many people run away screaming. Niragi took Tsuki to the photo booth, and told her about how you had both gotten the idea to kiss each other on the cheek at the same time and ended up kissing each other for the first time on accident. The second one that came after wasn’t. He took her on a ride on the Ferris wheel, doing his best to hold her tightly and show her the view. He told her about after 3 years of dating, he had asked you to marry him at the very top.

Tsuki had smiled a lot throughout the day, notably whenever he used the words “mama” and “papa,” this didn’t go unnoticed by Niragi, and he felt partially guilty. He felt like maybe he should be talking to her about you more, but some days it was too much.

The ride home was a quiet one, other than for Tsuki’s babbling in the backseat as she tried to sing along to the faint music from the radio. He peeked at her through the rear view mirror. She was really starting to look like you. As she grew, her hair had gotten longer, and aside from his hair color, the texture resembled yours. Her eyes, although the shape resembling his, were the same color as yours. She had his nose, but her lips were yours. She was the perfect combination of you both with just the right amount of your features to ease his mind that the image of you wasn’t totally lost. He missed you. A lot. You had blessed him with a daughter, and he knew she was not meant to fill the void he had in his heart, but having her around really eased some of his pain.

As he approached the dark house, he spoke. “You know,” he began, Tsuki’s face perking up to look at him. “Back when Mama was around... I used to come home and the lights would be on.” She gurgled in response. “I’d go in and tell her I was home, and she’d always be there to welcome me. She always had dinner just about done by the time I came home from the office.” Tsuki hummed. “This is a house. But your Mama made it feel like a home.” Niragi pulled into the driveway, and with a heavy sigh gathered Tsuki out of her car seat and her souvenirs. He fumbled with his keys only to find that the door was unlocked. “That’s fucking weird,” he thought out loud. “I could have sworn I locked it...” He stepped inside, feeling the wall for the light-switch, only for his hand to touch someone else’s. Before he could react, the lights came on.

“SURPRISE!”

Niragi jumped back in shock, holding Tsuki protectively.

The room was filled with all of your close friends, all of which were wearing ridiculous party hats, and the living room was decorated with pink balloons and a sign that read “Happy Birthday Tsuki.” Dr. Chishiya aka Uncle Shuntaro. Kuina and her mother. Yuzuha and Arisu. Mr. Aguni the landlord. A few of your workplace coworkers were there too.

“What’s all of this?” He asked, stunned.

“We couldn’t let Tsuki’s birthday pass without a proper celebration.” Kuina explained. “No birthday is a birthday without a cake.”

“She’s right,” said Chishiya. “You celebrated the day your way, but we wanted to celebrate, too.”

“She’s such a precious baby, we just wanted to do something special for her.” Kuina’s mother chimed in.

“We know how much you’ve through...” Yuzuha began.

“We just wanted to show our support.” Arisu continued.

“For the both of you.” Yuzuha agreed.

“You’re both real fine kids, so all of us got together and put a little something together for ya.” said Aguni.

“I can’t... I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am to you. All of you.” Niragi began, “the past year... really hasn’t been the easiest. With Y/N gone, and having to raise Tsuki on my own, trying to get my life together for the both of us... all of you have been such a big help to me. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll never be able to repay you for all you’ve done for me and Tsuki.”

“There’s no need,” Aguni waved his hand, dismissively.

“He’s right.” Kuina smiled. “Everything we’ve done is because we wanted to.”

“You’re our friend.” nodded Yuzuha.

“You’re like family.” Arisu corrected.

And Niragi agreed. All these friends had become like an extended family of his. Always there.

His knees were shaking, a cold sweat formed on his brow. He felt queasy and on the brink of throwing up. He wasn’t ready for this. Quite frankly, he’d never be.

“You know, if you want to wait another year, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Papa, I’m five. I gotta go to school.”

They said the first day was the hardest. Niragi had held the slightest hope that Tsuki would throw a tantrum and outright refuse to go to school, but to his disappointment she had been rather excited. She was incredibly bright for her age, already knowing how to count to one hundred, knowing her colors, as well as all the letters of the alphabet. She even knew how to write her name in Kanji, Hiragana, and Katakana.

“I know you do, but still, Papa will be lonely without you.”

“But you’ve got work stuff to do.”

“But you’re my little helper.”

“I’m a kid, papa.”

“Since when are you a little smartass?”

She shrugged. “If I’m smart, that means I gotta go to school.”

“I- Now where the fu-”

“Papa, hurry up! I’m gonna be late!” Tsuki grabbed on to his hand and dragged him away from the parking lot and closer to the school gates. He could feel the eyes of others burning holes into his figure. This was another reason he worried about her coming to school. The prying eyes of others. Even though the surgeries he’d gotten had managed to make him look relatively normal, upon closer inspection, there was still visible scarring. He’d never forgive himself if he became the cause of Tsuki being bullied.

He signed in at the front desk and gathered all the paperwork for Tsuki’s schedule, class directory, and list of school supplies.

“You’ve got art class.” He mused.

“Really?” The corners of her eyes perked up in curiosity.

“I didn’t think kids could learn art.”

“Aunt Yuzuha’s kids draw on the walls. Uncle Arisu calls that art.” She said. “I think it’s messy.”

“Well aren’t you a little critic.” He chuckled.

“It’s true. What kind of dummy makes grass red?”

“Tsuki, you can’t call other kids a dummy.”

“But you call other people things, too.”

“I’m a grown up.”

“Then can i call them dummy when I’m a grown up, too?”

“For sure.”

Tsuki nodded in understanding.

The two reached her classroom and while Tsuki was led to her seat by the teacher, Niragi stood to the side with all the other parents, most of them being moms. If he was being honest, he felt awkward and out of place. Compared to the other parents, he was sure he was the youngest parent there. Chills ran down his neck, as he looked around and saw the other parents throwing side glances at him, and a soft hum of whispers surrounded him. He tried to shrug it off and focus on Tsuki, who was now chatting away with her classmates. He noticed that the other kids say something and pointed in his direction, to which Tsuki would shrug and and answer like it was no big deal. Oh no, he thought. It’s starting.

“First time?” A voice said behind him.

Niragi turned to see an older man with shaggy black hair covered in a beige fedora, his eyes hidden behind big dark sunglasses. What kind of a freak wears a hat and shades indoors? Niragi thought, but nonetheless, he nodded. The older man patted him on the back. “It’s never easy.” He said with a smile. “Which ones yours?”

“Umm, the little girl over there. The one with the silver clips in her hair.” Niragi described. “Her name is Tsuki.”

“Oh, she’s absolutely precious!” The older man gushed.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve got two. The boy and the girl on either side of your girl. Twins.” He said proudly. “Nara and Naoki. Little devils, those two.”

“Is this your first time here, too?”

“Me? No. I’m an old timer. My oldest, Nanase, is a second year at the middle school nearby.” He sighed with a smile. “But just looking at your face I can tell this is your first time.”

“Really? You can tell?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He wove his hand up and down, dismissively. “We’ve all been there. Ain’t that right, Mrs. Kobayashi?” He nudged the lady next to him, who gave him nothing more than an awkward side eye. “Don’t mind her. She’s a hoot at PTA meetings.”

The teacher interrupted the parents’ chatter and asked them to bid farewell to the children so that they could commence the first day of school. Niragi panicked and looked at Tsuki who flashed him a dimply grin. He took a deep breath. She’s fine. She wants to be here. The two shared one last look before he walked out of the classroom with the other parents.

“Hey, kid.” He heard the strange man call out, causing Niragi to look back at him once more. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Niragi. Suguru. I’m Niragi Suguru.” He bowed politely.

“Nice to meet you, Niragi.” He tipped his hat in acknowledgement. “I’m Danma Takeru.”

The two chatted for a bit more and exchanged numbers with Mr. Danma, or Hatter as he liked to be called due to his profession, saying the kids just had to get together for play dates sometime.

The day passed by horribly slow, with Niragi getting virtually no work done. His thoughts consumed with how Tsuki must be doing at school. 3 o clock couldn’t come soon enough and be just about sped to the school. Tsuki waited for him by the gate, holding several papers in her hands.

“Papa!” She exclaimed, running excitedly up to her dad.

“Hey, kid!” Niragi crouched to pick her up in his arms. “How’d it go?” He asked as he walked them back to his car.

“It was kind of boring.” She admitted. “But that’s cuz I already know all the stuff.”

“Really!”

“Uh huh.” She nodded.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh!” She held up the papers. “I made these! Ms. Nobuo let us use paints to draw shapes! And the art teacher lady Ms. Osaki let me use pastel thingies!” She held up her work for him to see.

“Wow! You did great, kiddo.” He took the papers from her hands as he ser her into her car seat and buckled her in. As he got into his own, he looked over the papers, smiling at her work. She really had a knack for creativity. Tsuki chatted away about her day on the ride home, and Niragi felt at slightly at ease that her school experience had gone better than his.

“Oh my goodness! Papa, I almost forgot!”

“What’s up?”

“Papa, all the kids kept asking me about you.”

His eyebrows shot up, a bit concerned. “Me?”

“Uh huh. All the kids said your hair and the shiny thingies on your face make you look like a rockstar.”

“Huh.” He chuckled, dryly. “They said that?”

“Uh huh! And then all the boys went all crazy cuz I told them you work on video games and that you and Mama helped make that Borderland game.”

He smiled at her through the rear view mirror. “You told them about Mama?” He felt his heart tug a bit. Kids always said what they thought, so he could imagine what kind of responses they might have at Tsuki’s... situation.

“Yup! They think you guys are so cool and that they wished their parents were like you guys.”

“Is that so, kid?” He chuckled, relieved she had managed to get positive attention. “Did you make friends?”

“Not really... all the kids were kinda noisy... I talked a lot with these kids... what were their names? Naka and Naori!”

“You mean Nara and Naoki?” Niragi laughed.

Tsuki gasped. “How did you know?!”

“I met their dad. He’s kind of...”

“Weird?” Tsuki answered. “They’re weird, too.” She giggled.

Tsuki’s school years came and went, and she had grown quite a lot. She had become taller, and her hair had become longer and fell down to her waist. Unfortunately, she’d inherited his eyesight and needed to wear glasses, but she didn’t seem to mind. Some time in her early teens she had asked him if she could get her ears pierced, to which he was a it stunned she felt she needed to ask, since he had gotten his without permission from anyone and just cuz he’d felt like it. He agreed, and went along with her. What he didn’t expect was her wanting to get four done on each ear on the first sitting, and had been slightly proud at his daughter’s determination. However... Niragi wasn’t too happy when he found out she’d gotten her belly button pierced while on a school trip to a beach resort.

She did well in school, she participated in school clubs, and never complained about doing her chores around the house. She even had a handful of friends, for which Niragi was thankful for. On one occasion, he’d overheard one of them refer to him as a dilf, which he didn’t understand, and when he asked Tsuki about it, she became flustered and urgently changed the subject, and when he asked Kuina, she laughed in his face. He didn’t dare look up the meaning online.

They say parents are never prepared for their children’s milestones, but when Tsuki graduated high school with honors, he really couldn’t believe it. 18 years had gone by quickly right before his eyes, and the little girl

25 years had passed in the blink of an eye. Tsuki had graduated from university, having pursued a degree as a software engineer specializing in AI development. During her internship, she’d met someone special and developed a friendship which blossomed into romance. Of all the things Niragi had never given much thought to doing, giving his daughter away was at the very top.

Tsuki had shook nervously as Niragi walked her down the aisle, whispering to him “Please, don’t let me fall, Papa.” To which he replied that even if she did, he’d be right there to pick her up. He was thankful her groom came from a large family, believing it to be a far less lonely atmosphere. Nonetheless, he was happy that he had been lucky enough to amass a good deal of close friends to accompany him on this journey.

At the reception, Kuina and Yuzuha had just about shoved Niragi on the dance floor for his father daughter dance with Tsuki, who had taken it upon herself to choose the song. With the lyrics of “When She Loved Me,” matched to the scene of Niragi and Tsuki, rest assured, there was not a single dry eye in the house.

During the dinner, somewhere within him, Niragi felt the courage to stand and tap his spoon against his champagne glass. “I’d like to say a few words. I didn’t prepare anything, but... I’d like to speak from the heart.” He announced, to which everyone in the hall suddenly hushed in respect. “The last time I went to a wedding,” Niragi began, “was about 26 years ago. And just like the bride and groom, I was marrying the love of my life.” He looked down at his glass of champagne, briefly, before continuing. “Love is a crazy thing, really. It’s having this connection with someone that you just can’t explain and you really don’t have to because they already understand. Love is scary. It’s finding someone that accepts you, flaws and all, whether they be physical, emotions, psychological, metaphorical, what have you. Love is pretending to lose at a video game you’ve cleared at least 20 times just so you can watch them be happy.” He chuckled as the crowd quietly laughed. “It’s about getting a call at three in the morning asking you if you want to go out and get donuts at the 24/7 donut shop downtown. Love is... not being able to hear anyone say your given name because no one else says it as beautifully as that one person. Love is hating rainy days all your life but learning to love them when they drag you under the rain to dance. It’s when you’re driving and she reaches out to hold your hand. It’s about holding each other after nightmares and reminding each other that none of it’s real, even when reality sometimes feels like it’s a nightmare. It’s about treasuring every single moment because you’ll never know when it will be the last.” At this point, everyone who wasn’t crying already was tearing up at the realization of Niragi’s words. “It’s about being scared together. When your plans change and suddenly you’re getting ready to bring another life into the world together. That look between the two of you when you feel your baby kick for the first time at the sound of you voice. Staying up until dawn figuring out baby names because your child deserves something totally unique. Love is when you hold your baby girl and you realize that you really can love someone just as much, if not more, than the love of your life because... she is your life. As some of you know, Y/N isn’t with us today, but I know better than anyone that she would have loved to be here, and even though we can’t see her, she’s still with us.” He smiled. “the love she and I had... I like to think of it as something that only happens once in a lifetime, because to me, there really was no one else I could see myself with that wasn’t Y/N. But the way I see you two kids with each other... this is YOUR once in a lifetime. Treasure it. Always.” He looked directly into his new son-in-law’s eyes. “My life is in your hands now.”

#ITS OUT #daddy niragi lives #alice in borderland #ima wa no kuni no alice #imawa no kuni no arisu #suguru niragi #niragi #niragi suguru #aib #arisu ryohei #arisu #chishiya #shuntaro chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #kuina #hikari kuina #kuina hikari

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voidstilesplease · 3 years

Text

there you are, and I run

pairing: stiles/theo | rating: M | word count: approx. 5,500 (chapter 5) | tags: Hogwarts AU, Triwizard Tournament, Slytherin!Stiles, Durmstrang!Theo, Magic, Witches and Wizards | warning: sexual content (chapter 5)

summary: The Room Where It Happened of Requirement. That's all.

chapter 5/ Read on AO3

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January 10th – 15 days after the Yule Ball; a month and two weeks before the Second Task

“ In ancient Greek mythology ,” Allison started with a little frown, reading from the tome that Stiles had handed to her as soon as the Slytherin got her alone in an empty classroom. “ – a Siren is a hybrid creature with the body of a bird and the head of a human .” It hadn’t been as easy as Stiles thought, convincing Allison to come with him, which was, really, kind of insulting and maybe a bit gratifying, too (actually, plenty gratifying). She’d warily observed each turn they made even as she focused on Stiles, reading his body movements for any potential assault. Her body was tense the entire trip, arms rigid at the sides, ready to slide her wand out of her sleeve should the need to defend herself arose. If Stiles were Theo, he would understand the suspicion – he would be, too. But what did Allison think Stiles would do to her, seriously ? “ Sirens are dangerous creatures who live on rocky islands and lure sailors to their doom with their sweet song –“ Allison cut off, dropping the book to her lap and raising an exasperated look at Stiles. “Stiles, will you just tell me the point of this?”

Stiles huffed, pushing his back from the door to walk closer. “You French school people are so snooty and impatient.” He muttered as he hopped and situated himself on top of the teacher’s desk, shaking his head lightly. Allison rolled her eyes, mouth twitching a little at the comment, but continued staring pointedly. Stiles exhaled in defeat. “Sirens,” he said, at last, pausing a little. “That’s the next task.”

Allison’s brows furrowed, “Sirens?”

Stiles nodded, reaching inside his pocket for the wing locket – the clue he’d won during the First Task. He showed it to Allison, “I’ve cracked the clue,” he paused, considered it, and amended his statement with a little exhale, “Actually, we’ve cracked the clue – Theo and me.”

The Beauxbatons girl raised both eyebrows at that, looking more skeptical by the second.

“Something about the rune positions, apparently,” Stiles offered in explanation, gesturing at said runes on the locket. “He translated them. And that led to me thinking about the Mirror of Erised at the Room of Requirement . We went there, and the mirror showed me the next task – Sirens.” He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes a little. “You have heard about both the Mirror of Erised and the Room of Requirement , right?”

Allison bit her lip a little hesitantly, but she nodded. “Lydia has told me about them.”

Stiles knew that. Lydia had mentioned that she had indeed shared to Allison the wonderful mysteries of Hogwarts in exchange for the wonderful mysteries of Beauxbatons. An academic trade was what Lydia called it. She had even suggested that Stiles could use Theo’s inclination for mouthy Slytherin wizards to collect intelligence about Durmstrang and the dark arts. After all, if any school had more mystery than the others, it was Durmstrang Institute. A school that wasn’t on any magical map? Sounds exactly like something right up Lydia and Stiles’s alley indeed. But he had immediately shut her off. Although, if Stiles squinted really hard, he would find he was already doing that, wasn’t he? Not deliberately, no, but all the same. Being around Theo so much, he had already amassed lots about his life in Durmstrang – the rough training they go through, all the commonplace near-death experiences, the impossible expectations sitting in their shoulders, never trusting anyone not to smother you in your sleep. Fun stuff. He had even demonstrated dark magic right in front of Stiles.

“ The Mirror of Erised is a magical mirror that shows the deepest, most desperate desires of the heart.” Allison recited as if repeating the exact words that Lydia had told her. “And the Room of Requirement is a secret room within Hogwarts Castle that only appears when a person is in great need of it.”

“Five points for Beauxbatons.”

Allison rolled her eyes good-naturedly. At least she wasn’t regarding him like a snake about to eat her anymore.

Stiles smiled at her before continuing. “Anyway, that’s how we decoded the clue. We’ve been reading about it for the past two weeks.”

There was a thoughtful look on her face as she silently pondered on the information she was given. Finally, after a long moment, she lifted her eyes and nodded to herself, closing the tome and putting it on the desk before her. “Okay, but why are you telling me?” Allison asked, crossing her arms and raising a questioning brow.

Stiles shrugged. “It seems only fair,” he replied honestly, fastening the locket around his neck. He gave it a soft pat afterward. “Theo knows, I know, so you should, too. Sirens are dangerous creatures.”

“Do you really believe that they are in possession of a live Siren?” Allison gestured at the book. “I know a little about these creatures; we studied them at Beauxbatons, too. They’re truly more mythical than real now, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded in agreement, “And the closest kin we can associate to them are the merfolks, which are very much real .”

“So, the merfolks could be the actual next task?”

Stiles shrugged again, “They’re part of the next task. The last Triwizard tournament coordinated with them for one of the tasks, after all. They could do it again.”

Allison lowered her eyes in thought.

“Look,” Stiles hopped down the desk to stand directly in front of the girl. When she looked up, nibbling on her lower lip, he continued. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I just want you to know, that’s all.”

Allison hummed, giving Stiles a speculative look. Slowly, the slight frown on her lips formed into a smile. “So,” she straightened up, tone light and playful now. “What else did you and the Durmstrang boy do in the Room of Requirement?”

Instantly, Stiles felt his cheeks getting warm. He snatched the book from the table and rushed to say, “ Nothing .”

***

Nothing that he was insane to share with Allison, or anyone else, for that matter.

It had been almost 3 in the morning when the pair of them arrived at the seventh-floor corridor where the door to the Room of Requirement was located. It was harder to escape from pissed Malia and Erica than sober Malia and Erica, apparently. And there was Jackson, completely off his trolley, who attempted the jelly-leg jinx on Theo and backfired tremendously because the tosser had pointed the business end of his wand on himself. They were hollering and hauling Jackson’s body to the sleeping quarters by the time they exited the Slytherin Common Room.

They stopped by a familiar expanse of wall. Theo was the first to break the silence. “Last time we were here, we had an unfinished business.”

Stiles’s lips thinned to a line. He did not want to think about the last time they were there. Especially not after the heated events of the past hour. Stiles was sure that had Jackson not been his usual wanker self, they would have been kissing, tongue and all, right there in the Slytherin Common Room for everyone’s viewing. Or, if they had not been distracted by the wing locket, they would have been horizontal on the bed now, frotting against each other, and Stiles would have lost the challenge – proven to Theo that he had not an ounce of control when it came to him. But they were not there for that . They were on official Triwizard champion duty.

“Last time we were here,” Stiles gritted out, facing away from Theo to hide his inflamed cheeks. “You made up my mind to put my name into the Goblet of Fire.”

Theo scoffed, looking put out, stepping closer so he could confront the side of Stiles’s face. “I told you the exact opposite of that.”

Stiles still refused to look at him directly, choosing to side-eye the Durmstrang boy. “Which is why I did the exact opposite of what you told me.”

There was a brief pause from the other boy before he scoffed again, utterly disbelieving. “You’re so contrary .”

This time, Stiles looked up to meet his eyes in the dimness of the corridor. With a tiny upward tug on the corner of his lips, he repeated Theo’s words from earlier. “It’s part of my charm, though, right?”

Theo did not answer with words. Instead, his eyes fell on Stiles’s lips once more and remaining there until the door to the Room of Requirement appeared.

They both know the answer to their question.

***

When they entered the room, it was like they opened a portal into a dimension filled with all kinds of objects you can think of: broken and functioning, ancient and modern, small and gargantuan, ordinary and dangerous. But the powerful magic surrounding the room, converging from all of the objects it held, even the defectives, was unmissable. It shrouded them like an invisible cloak the moment they entered – as if the very air they breathed was magic. It was very different from the first time they had been there together. Then, there was only a king-sized four-poster bed in the middle of a spacious but otherwise empty room. When Stiles went before that, it was the same, except the bed was sometimes a table and a chair or a cozy settee beside a crackling fire. Now, it was a whole dumpster site of magical items.

There was a wood dresser on the left side overflowing with golden trinkets; hundreds of piles of tomes and parchments; several instruments littered about, including a grand piano with a missing leg, a cello with broken strings, and a rusty harp that was playing music by itself. On their right were potteries in various sizes and shapes and artwork, brimming with sparkling gemstones; a whole cupboard of old broomsticks and random pieces of broken furniture. Even the ceiling had many embellishments hanging up like dozens of old, flickering chandeliers, levitating lamps, and even a lonely, single, time-worn shoe. It was impossible to find anything there – especially something you'd not seen in your life. But the Mirror of Erised was there somewhere, and they had to try. If only Stiles knew a summoning spell that would not call the furniture to crush Theo and him to mangled bones and flesh…

“How are we going to find the mirror?” Theo spoke behind Stiles, gaze wandering the vastness of the room. “This place probably has hundreds of them.”

“The Mirror of Erised is only one,” Stiles responded with more confidence than he actually felt. But he had enough. He already had a mental list of spells they could try. “We’ll find it eventually.”

“Yeah, in a decade, give or take.”

Pursing his lips in annoyance, Stiles turned to Theo. “You can turn back, you know? I’d still tell you the clue.”

“And leave you here alone?” Theo gave him a dry look as if Stiles was daft for even suggesting it. “Yeah, fat chance, babe.”

Stiles sneered at the endearment, but Theo ignored him and walked ahead of Stiles, procuring his wand in his hand. “If you get trapped in here, there are many witnesses that knew I came with you.” Halting in his steps, he wrinkled his nose at Stiles. “I’d rather not be the primary suspect for kidnapping you.”

Stiles snorted, “So you’d rather get stuck?”

“With you,” Theo added smoothly, smiling widely because he knew exactly what that did to Stiles. “That’s the vital bit.”

Stiles wanted to retort with something witty; he was usually good at that. But he wasn’t as sober as he thought he was, it appeared. His brain was still muddled, and Theo was a pretty strong toxin.

Shushing the traitorous uptick in his heartbeat, Stiles rolled his eyes and exhaled a long-suffering sigh. It was not the time.

Pretending he was less affected than he actually was, he took his wand from his pocket and muttered the first spell on his list – an advanced magical-signature tracking spell. Ignoring the wide grin still plastered on Theo’s face, he pushed past the git and barraged deeper into the sea of artefacts without looking back if Theo followed. Of course, he followed. He followed because he was infuriatingly dedicated like that. Dedicated on driving Stiles to the brink.

And Stiles was not far behind.

***

They found the mirror quicker than they expected, which made sense to Stiles because they did seek the help of the Room of Requirement to find it specifically . So, more than likely, the room had opened to the exact section where the Mirror of Erised was nearest. It wasn’t Stiles’s tracking spell that found it, though – not conclusively – but Theo.

Stiles was still walking ahead of the Durmstrang boy, resolutely keeping his distance, as he followed the tug of his magic and checked side-by-side, up-and-down thoroughly, trying his damnest not to pause and gawk at every single fascinating thing he came across. He unveiled every looking glass they passed by, running his tracer magic on each one, hoping to catch a unique signature that would identify the artifact as old, rare, and extremely powerful – anything that would separate it from the other magic in the surrounding. The spell had drawbacks, of course, Stiles recognized that. The room probably had thousands of old, rare, and powerful artefacts (most might even be older than the mirror they came for) – it wouldn’t necessarily isolate the Mirror of Erised from everything with similar magical signatures.

He contemplated switching to the next spell on his list when he heard Theo speak.

“Do you see that?”

Stiles drew away from the set of portraits he accidentally uncovered – everyone in it grumbling and cussing Stiles for disturbing their slumber. Stiles quickly draped the cloth back over them – to look at Theo.

The Durmstrang boy was looking onward, a little farther from where they stood, and Stiles followed his line of sight. All he saw was a darker pathway with more antique broken objects.

“What?”

Theo pointed, “That,” he muttered, walking towards whatever it was that he saw.

Curious, Stiles tailed closely.

Theo had stopped in front of a huge ornate mirror with a gold frame. Stiles inched nearer and almost jumped in glee upon reading the inscription around it: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi . Unbelievable. It was there; they had found it! A quick tempus charm would confirm that they had only begun searching less than twenty minutes ago. And it was now in their presence!

Stiles grinned, turning to his companion. “This is it! The Mirror of Erised .”

But Theo only stared at the mirror, brows furrowed in deep concentration. Stiles could only see Theo watching his reflection. But from the way his eyes moved around, his face flickering with different emotions (more than he ever saw Theo wear), Stiles quickly realized that the mirror was serving its purpose – showing people their desires. Stiles wondered silently, what could Theo be seeing ? What does someone like him desire the most ? More wealth? Prestige? More possession of the Dark Arts? Does Theo desire something mundane and vague as love and happiness? If so, what scene does he see himself in that includes being in love and happy? Around a family of his own, maybe? A wife, their two-and-a-half children, in a country manor with a vast field of green dragon berry trees?

Stiles broke from his stupor when the Durmstrang boy stepped away from the mirror, eyes alight in awe and trepidation. Then, softly, he chuckled without humor. “This mirror is cursed.”

Stiles glanced at him questioningly. “Because it shows you what you want?”

Theo turned to him, face set in a hard expression. He almost looked pained. “Because it shows you what you want that you evidently can’t have.”

Their eyes met, and Stiles saw the yearning and defeat in Theo’s. It was probably the most earnest he’d ever seen Theo. Something had truly rattled him. What did he see ? He thought again. What did the mirror show him that he – who, on the face of it, has everything – desires so much because he believes he can’t have it ?

Stiles shook his head and replied, “You don't know that,” He pressed on even as Theo scoffed. “If you want something enough, Theo, you devise means to achieve it.”

“Even at the expense of everything else?” Theo challenged.

“Yeah!” Stiles cried out. “Who said ambitions were always smart?”

There was a moment’s pause following Stiles’s statement before Theo lowered his eyes. Stiles wanted to say something sarcastic to break the ice – he wasn’t used to Theo like this – but he didn’t think it would be helpful at the moment. When it became apparent that Theo wasn’t going to say anything more, Stiles decided to take his previous position and face the Mirror of Erised as they came to do. Anyway, if Theo allowed it, they could talk about… feelings , after. Although Stiles reckoned Theo would probably pretend this moment of vulnerability didn’t happen once they were out in the real world, he was oddly hopeful. Because it actually felt nice, even if he would never admit it out loud, to be the only one to see Theo this way. At least, he thought he was the only one.

Stiles internally sighed and shook his head. Emotions were so weird . He was never not conflicted having them – too many and too foreign and always in-between.

He cleared his throat and stood before the mirror, forcing his mind to clear. He heard Theo shuffle behind him but otherwise remained silent, watching Stiles as Stiles had done with him earlier.

Stiles swallowed, taking a deep breath, and barred any other thoughts in his mind apart from one – his longing to win the Triwizard tournament. His victory during the First Task ignited it fully; he wasn’t just in it for the thrill – he wanted the galleons, the look of awe and jealousy directed to him, the pride, the fame, the glory. He wanted to emerge victorious on the other side. And he was going to get that if he knew how to arm himself for the Second Task. He would know how to arm himself if the mirror showed him what he would need to arm himself against. The mirror could show him.

He repeated it inside his head like an incantation.

Soon enough, his reflection started distorting, forming vague shapes like images through water, until it became a vision of him brandishing the Triwizard Cup in the air as fireworks of silver and green erupted in the sky. It was quick, but it brought the biggest grin on his face, then the mirror cleared once more. He was about to think “ that’s it ?” when the wing locket around his neck began unfurling. Stiles’s eyes widen, and his hand immediately flew to the jewelry. When he looked down, however, it was still the same: a pair of wings enclosed together, cold on his skin.

He looked up to the mirror, but his reflection was holding an opened locket. Stiles gaped in astonishment.

“Do you see anything?” Theo asked, stepping forward.

Stiles nodded, eyes still fixed on the figure inside the mirror.

Faintly, the runes glowed, and so did the encryptions that Theo’s spell created on the locket. Listen to the desire of the heart . Belatedly, Stiles thought that the opened locket now resembled a heart, actually. Then slowly, Stiles’s reflection raised the unfurled locket to his ear and held it there. Confused, Stiles mimicked and brought the golden wings to his hear.

Merlin’s fruit basket , Stiles swore, but he could hear whispers from within the locket! Listen to the desire of the heart – Stiles wanted to laugh out loud because that was almost too literal, wasn’t it? Excitedly, he pressed the locket more firmly to his ear, but the melodious whispers, almost as if singing to him, stayed garbled and incomprehensible. He started getting pissed after a moment – he, unfortunately, didn’t speak nonsense – until he caught on to a specific word: Seirḗn .

A Siren.

***

“The next task is a Siren ?” Theo asked dubiously, as they were tracing back to the exit.

“It makes sense, actually,” Stiles replied, glancing sideways at Theo, and his mind wandering to each clue, making sense of them now. “First, this is a wing locket. Sirens are depicted as half-woman half-bird hybrids. Then, when the wings open, it forms into the shape of a heart. The rune on the locket says: ‘ listen to the desire of the heart ’. And sirens are mythical creatures known to sing the yearnings of a person to lure them to their death.” Theo nodded along to his points, brows drawn together in musing. “And now this .” Stiles opened his palm to reveal a small, white object.

Right after Stiles heard his final and most concrete clue, the Mirror of Erised returned to being a simple looking glass, and the wing locket in Stiles’s hand pried open unprompted. A white object fell from the locket and into Stiles’s curious hand.

Theo looked down at it, wrinkling nose. “What’s that?”

“Wax.”

“ Wax ?”

“For noise-canceling,” Stiles explained, giving Theo a dull look. “It was what ancient Greeks used to survive a Siren’s song. You should know it since you apparently read Greek literature.”

Theo returned the look with a mild glare. “I know about that . It's why I also know that a tiny glob of it won’t do any good. It doesn’t even look like there’s enough for one ear.”

“I can make additional, Theo,” Stiles answered, already mentally listing ingredients he thought would be needed. “But obviously, it’ll take time. Thank Merlin, we have over a month to get ready. And we also have to read more about Sirens.”

“Hurray.”

They fell into silence, Stiles drawing a plan inside his head and Theo wordlessly walking beside him. He was more or less back to classic Theo – Stiles was convinced that the brief moment they shared would be pushed down to forgotten lane – and though a part of him was disappointed, it might be for the best. If Stiles were hard-pressed on not crossing the line, then confiding weaknesses should be out of the trade. This tension between them was frustrating, but it was safe. Safe was okay. Safe was preferable.

Suddenly, he found himself being shoved to a wall. He was too surprised and tired – it was past three in the morning – to react quickly. He grunted softly, but the impact hardly hurt. One of Theo’s hands cushioned his head protectively, and he only stared wide-eyed as Theo pushed closer and caged Stiles between a random wall and his body. His really hot body – Merlin, he was a furnace. He knew the Durmstrang delegates could create sparks with the tip of their magic canes, but Theo could make fire . Stiles saw it – many, many times after the Welcome Feast. Theo was always eager to demonstrate. He enjoyed watching Stiles’s open-mouthed response and the way his eyes would glaze over. Theo was always burning, and Stiles would have complained if only the burn didn’t feel perfect.

He only hoped he wasn’t leaning against temperamental portraits who cursed in seven languages because then, it wouldn’t be as perfect.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, but his hands grappled on both sides of Theo’s waist, the wax still clutched in one.

Theo’s other hand curled around Stiles’s neck and started playing with the tips of his hair. His eyes locked on Stiles. “You said that if I wanted something enough, I would have to make ways to get it.”

Stiles’s pulse quickened. “Your heart’s greatest desire isn’t seriously to have sex with me.” He tried to sound jeering, but he had turned into a gasping mess. One of Theo’s knees had parted his legs and pressed their lower halves together.

“No,” Theo’s hot breath fanned across Stiles’s face, his calloused thumb caressing Stiles’s jaw, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “But I want you badly, nonetheless.”

--------

hello! I've reached the maximum limit for a long post, apparently (didn't know there was one!), so I had to cut the scene. Sorry. If you wanna continue reading, it's on AO3! If not, thank you for still reaching this part!

Byeee 🖤

#steo #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #stiles x theo #hogwarts au #fics tag #after 9 months here's an update heh

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tonystarkissist · 3 years

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“Didn’t know where else to go”/ Revenge - Villainous July

Part 11 of “Oh Sweet Child, The Things I’d Do for You...”

Summary: Tony's out of his element. He’s ignorant to many things in relation to offering someone else comfort, but closure and vengeance is one thing he’s damn good at.

Rating: Teen (For language and Thematic Material)

Warning: Self-loathing and lack of care for life, mentions of abuse, and slightly graphic dialogue towards the end (maybe too graphic, but I got caught up in the moment; sue me).

Word Count: 4.5k

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist ~ Read on Ao3 ~ Next Chapter

Peter’s there for days, maybe weeks, he couldn’t keep track at this point. He’s glad he had the foresight to warn Ned of his absence. His friend would definitely be the leading cause behind filing a missing persons report, because he knows Beck wouldn’t do it, content to mooch off of CPS as long as possible. And Peter really didn’t need anyone out looking for him. He didn’t even want to think about the turmoil and stress that would ensue. He didn’t want to deal with it. Ever.

He just wanted to lie here on this couch forever, stare at the fire crackling in the fireplace and watch the orange light bleed through the darkness of Mr. Stark’s home. It reminded him of that night he’d followed Mr. Stark here… he missed him. Still.

He wasn’t afraid to admit it anymore at all; not even ashamed. He missed him. And he felt so incredibly guilty for turning the man’s world entirely upside down. If Peter hadn’t acted so carelessly none of this would be happening. Tony wouldn’t be on the run, Beck wouldn’t have found out about Spider-Man, and Peter wouldn’t be slowly starving to death, lying here on Stark’s couch, the licks of flames dancing up from the fire cradling him in a hypnotic trance.

There was food in the kitchen, he knew there was, but just the thought of food made him sick, and he knew if he did try to stand he wouldn’t have a chance at making it that far before passing out.

He’d long since accepted the fact that he’d die at a young age due to his vigilante hobby, but he must admit he never expected it to happen this young, especially not since Mr. Stark started showing up every moment he needed him. He hadn’t failed him once… until now. Now that Peter needs him… he’s not here. He stares down at the shattered face of the watch he’s been clutching in his hand since he arrived. Mr. Stark wasn’t coming back, and that was something Peter would have to accept. How could he come back, with all these people looking for him? It’d be impossible and probably the stupidest decision the man could make. But of course Peter’s still clinging to that childish hope that he’d see him again. Preferably before he wastes away here on this very couch.

Though at this rate, it didn’t seem like that was likely to happen. He didn’t even feel the pangs of hunger anymore, and he could feel his body slowly shutting down. It felt almost like a relief to be ridded of that constant ache in his stomach.

He’s been living off of that one school lunch meal for a week, and Peter could feel the definition of his bones when he ran a shaky hand over his ribs, or along his shoulder and arms. It wasn’t healthy by any means, but what did he care? There would be no “long run” to worry about, just the next couple of days before he peacefully slipped off to sleep into a gentle void of nothingness. And if this is what those last couple of days felt like… then he had nothing left to worry about.

He drifted off, muscles and body aching from lying in the same position he had been for days. He had nice dreams, most consisting of finally being with Aunt May again, and his parents. They were waiting for him when he arrived and he was so, so happy to see them, it brought tears to his eyes. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of doing this before. No one but Ned would’ve missed him… and Ned would get over it-- will get over it.

Something draws him out of his dream just before he falls too far, and at first he thought it was the usual convulsing of his stomach urging him to vomit up some bile, or perhaps the heat of a fever and a throbbing headache, but it was none of those.

Instead, it was a soft, light pressure against the side of his face. A small, calloused pad of warmth slowly stroking along his cheek, beneath his eye. It made his nose tickle, and his nostrils flared in response to the touch. His ears slowly cue in, and he’s hit with a sudden cacophony of noise. From the light sound of traffic several blocks down, and the small crackling of the dimming fire in the fireplace, all the way to the soft words belonging to a voice all too familiar, yet entirely unidentifiable.

“Pete?” The voice cracks with anxious distress. “C’mon Pete, wake up.”

Then there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, and all feelings along his skin and limbs begin to return. He’s being shaken back and forth, head lolling from side to side, but his groggy mind confuses it with… he didn’t know what it was. He just knows that everything feels numb and sensitive all at the same time.

The warm embrace against the side of his face disappears, and something scratchy and pokey is pressed gently against his lips, urging them to part. “C’mon Pete,” the voice begs again.

His tongue felt heavy and thick, weighed down by congealed saliva, but the pressure broke past the barrier of his lips despite it. He still couldn’t force himself to open his eyes.

The potent taste of salt hits his tongue and it sends a sudden shock through his whole system, like it finally realized it was in the waking world. The groggy convulsion alerts the voice of his slight awareness and now his body is manhandled into a sitting position. Even though his eyes are beginning to peek open he has no strength left in his limbs to try and fight the external force. He’s leant up against a warm cushion-y surface, a heavy weight settling over his shoulders as the culprit for the salt is pushed past his lips once more.

He bites down slowly, crumbs falling off at the corners of his mouth and the voice from earlier is quick to praise him.

“Good job, kiddo. C’mon, just a little more.” The taste sits heavy in his mouth and it slowly grows soggy atop his tongue, which urges him to swallow it. And, it seemed that the moment it slid down his throat, his body remembered all that it was missing and he was hit with a sharp pang in his abdomen, and he’s quick to take another bite.

His head lolls to the side, the cracker pushed back against his mouth, and his forehead pressed against something warm, engulfing him with a strong whiff of aftershave and alcohol. And slowly he’s able to piece together the warm shape he’s pressed against: an arm around his shoulders, a solid body sitting beside him, and the sharp outline of a jaw propped atop his head. Meaning the warmth bringing life back to his frozen nose and face must be the neck and shoulder.

His mind can only conjure one person to picture with him in this scenario. However unrealistic it was.

“ ‘ny?” Most of it’s a groan, but it must’ve been articulate enough for the voice to understand, and he’s instantly blanketed in more warmth and praise, pulled even closer to the warm body.

“Yes! It’s me. It’s Tony, kid.” The jaw resting on his head moves slightly in a way he couldn’t fully discern, and it’s followed by a soft but strong protrusion pressing against the top of his head, warm air passing over his scalp in short spurts before the jaw returns to its place.

It makes Peter smile. He’s not entirely sure why yet, but the warmth that blooms across his chest enlivens him in a way he never thought he’d experience ever again.

He eats more crackers, and he sips water through a straw regularly pressed to his lips as well. He doesn’t know how many he eats or how much he drinks, but soon enough the feelings begin to slowly bleed back, urging life back into his limbs and his brain. His stomach wasn’t very happy, but that didn’t come as a surprise to him

“You feeling better kiddo? That’s almost the whole pack.” A heavy hand is pressed to his face, then migrates up to pet his hair. “I don’t know what’s good to feed ya when you’re like this. You gotta help me out here.”

“Mm,” Peter groans. He knows it's unhelpful, but his belly felt stuffed and now all he could think about was how cold he was. The penthouse was warm and cozy, but it seemed ever since he arrived, Peter still couldn’t shake that chill that had settled in his bones. The thought alone made him shiver.

“Are you still thirsty?” The voice sounded nervous. “Yeah, you’re probably still thirsty. Lemme go get some more water.” The body begins to move away, which meant so was the warmth.

A strong tremble travels along Peter’s body with nervous anticipation, the muscles in his fingers spasming to grip at the person desperately before they could leave him alone.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” A strong hand grabs his fingers, gripping them gently between their larger ones. “You with me? You okay?”

“Mm,” Peter replies unhelpfully once more. He may not be able to reason or ruminate just yet, but he does know that he’s cold. He grabs the fingers around his and holds on tight, searching out warmth once more by diving his head back towards the warm cushion-y barrier from before and rooting himself there.

“Okay, okay.” The arm around his shoulders moves to rub warmth into his other arm, encircling him completely in the embrace. “Why’d you do this to yourself, Pete?” The voice whispers, a palpable despair in their tone. “You scared me.”

“Mm,” Peter hummed, eyelids pulsing open and closed with a firm determination to remain awake. His vision was blurred with soft orange light and the hard blackness of shadows. A sight he’s come to find as quite familiar and ironically comforting.

He feels better this time when he is pulled to sleep. Not so much on the brink of death anymore, but he feels he’s still teetering precariously close to that cliff. Though despite the nonsense the thought made, he knew the voice and the warmth would hold on tightly, and they wouldn’t let him fall.

***

He wakes up, warm and comfy in a nice big bed. He rolls onto his side with a groan, stomach screaming with hunger, and he lifts a hand to rub his fingers over his burning eyes. His entire body felt like it’d been wrung through a trash compactor. And he didn’t know how he ended up in a bed… He opened his eyes and looked around the room, then cursed under his breath. He was in Tony’s bed. In all the time he’s stayed hidden away in this penthouse, he’d stayed on that damned couch. He didn’t know what had occured last night to result in him crawling his way into this room.

His muscles felt weak and very unsteady, but he forced himself out of bed anyway. He needed to get out of that room, he needed to get back to the couch. He struggled opening the door, and he clutched at the wall as he stumbled and tripped his way back towards the main room. It didn’t even occur to him to question the light bleeding down the hall via the opened curtains scattering around the place. This morning wasn’t making any sense anyway, it didn’t matter.

He was a little more than halfway there when he collapsed, his left leg giving out first, tripping up his balance and toppling him to the wooden floor. He lands with a heavy bang, and he winces at the dull throb that resulted in his side.

“Peter?!” Loud footsteps follow the exclamation, and Peter’s entire body seizes with shock.

Was that??

It was.

Tony appears from around the corner seconds later, crouching in front of him with bulging plastic bags draped from his arms, hands reaching out towards him to help him off the ground.

“What in the world are you doing out of bed, kid? I told you to stay put.” And before Peter could even put up a protest, he was being lifted into the air and led back down the hall the way he came, back into Tony’s room.

It was like he’d just returned from the dentist, cotton stuffed in his mouth, tongue paralyzed, and brain conjuring weird loop-de-loops because he was still high on the pain meds. Because Mr. Stark was here. Carrying him.

If he wasn’t so startled and shocked by the man’s sudden appearance, he’d surely be mortified, but all he could do was stare dubiously at the side of his face as they walked. Then he was being lowered gently back into the bed, and as soon as Tony released him he dropped the bags from his arms and they hit the floor with muted thumps. Giving the man the freeness to meticulously tuck the sheets and cover back over Peter’s frailing body.

Any semblance of flesh had withered off his bones, thanks to his recent lack of appetite.

There was a harsh line molded between Tony’s brows as he messed anxiously with the sheets, and then turned his fixations towards the bags he’d just dropped. Peter didn’t speak a word during the entire ordeal, still unsure if this was just some weird dream or not.

“I picked up some stuff from the convenient store down the block. This’ll do much better than those Saltines from last night.” He lifts up the bottle of red gatorade to show, cracks open the lid, then plops a little bendy straw into the opening. “I would’ve gotten the ones with the sippy cup caps, y’know,” he rambled, sitting down on the mattress beside him and holding the straw up to his lips with shaky fingers, “but this was all they had. I’m assuming your favorite color is red, but I got all the other colors too.” Just as Peter takes a tentative sip, Tony pulls it back looking as if he was in the midst of a panic. “Damn, I should’ve asked you what flavor you wanted. Do you want blue instead? I can get the blue one,” Tony bends down so quickly it almost gives Peter whiplash, hand and head disappearing beside the bed, the rustling of plastic bags sounding during the frantic search. Then Tony sits up to brandish the blue gatorade,offering it towards him instead. “Or I've got green… and the white one.”

They stare at each other for several moments, and Peter’s not entirely sure what Tony expects him to say, so he settles with something simple.

“I-I like red.”

The straw is back at his lips and Tony’s nodding a little too feverishly. “Yeah, yeah, see I knew that.”

Peter sips on the drink, Tony watches him, and that little worried crease between his eyebrows doesn’t go away.

When he’s finished, he pulls away from the straw and leans back against the pillow, finally feeling a bit refreshed. Just as Tony begins to insist he drink more, Peter asks his question. “What are you doin’ here?”

Tony scoffs at him, an offended frown coming over his face. “This is my house. I should be the one asking you that question.”

And really, that was a good point. Peter didn’t know why he was here either. He drops his gaze to stare at his lap. He didn’t mean to worry the man, or get in his way… he just wanted someplace warm to stay.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled softly, a heaviness overcoming his eyes with the pressure building behind them.

“Shit, kid, I didn’t mean-- I didn’t mean it like that.” Tony’s hot palm presses against the side of his neck, thumb dipping under his chin to force his gaze back up. “I’m just worried ‘bout you. I came home and found you on my couch, passed out and-and small as a twig, pale, and I didn’t know what to do.”

Peter leans into the touch without thought, absorbing the tender affection like he was starved for it.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Peter whispers, tears finally beginning to fall from his eyes. The thumb tucked beneath his chin quickly moves to soothe over his cheeks, brushing the fallen tears away. It forces a smile from Peter, a bittersweet, desperate smile, formed with quivering lips.

Tony rips his hand away, suddenly and violently, like he’d only just realized what he was doing, stumbling away from the edge of the bed. He shook out the hand that’d been against Peter’s cheek like it had been infected with an abhorrent substance, and the man turned his back to Peter, other hand lifting to run through his hair while he cursed under his breath.

He avoids Peter’s eyes when he does turn back around. He points towards the gatorade sitting on the bedside table and clears his throat before delivering his instructions. “Drink all of that. I’ll be back soon.”

He shuffles from the room, grabbing one of the plastic bags on his way, and Peter can hear his distant mutterings under his breath as he leaves the room. It left an odd sense of emptiness in him, and he turned to look at the small bottle of red gatorade.

He didn’t reach for it, opting to watch the door. Awaiting Tony’s return.

Tony reappeared after several minutes, looking much less perturbed than when he had left. He came bearing soup and he set it down beside the empty bottle. He kept his distance this time though. The worried line between his brows were gone, taking upon an unperturbed expresion… simply gesturing with his head towards the steaming bowl.

He pulls up a chair, and when Peter still hadn’t made a move for the soup and Tony remained under his unyielding stare. After several more moments, and Peter had yet to move, Tony reached over to place the bowl gently in his lap. It wasn’t full by any means, so Peter didn’t worry about it spilling.

“Peter, you have to eat,” he nods down towards the bowl again. “And while you eat, I want you to tell me everything that happened while I was gone. Everything that got you to this point.” He waves his finger in a circular motion in gesture to his body, fixing Peter with a stern look, and Peter drops his head shyly.

“Can-can I eat first?”

“Sure.”

Peter eats as slow as possible under Tony’s watchful eye. Sadly, however, there was only a finite amount of soup and when Peter was finished, Tony was ready to talk, taking the bowl from his hands and putting it to the side.

“Alright, kid, spill.” Tony had his serious frown on; the same one Peter remembered he wore during the couple lectures he gave in the past. “No skimping on details.”

Peter turns his gaze away from him, skin prickling with anxiety. “My foster dad found out I was Spider-Man… an-and he thought I was working for you. I just… it made him really angry and I just wanted to get away! So, I came to look for you, but you weren’t here and I thought you were never coming back…”

He’s bowing his head to hide his tears, meaning he didn’t realize Tony had gotten out of his chair until he was settling beside him on the bed, and Peter’s head snapped up to look at him when he felt the matress dip. The man sat right beside him, shoulder pressing up against his, and the worry line making a reappearance.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“I-I’m not your responsibility,” Peter argues, “you shouldn’t feel sorry. I’m the one that screwed everything up and ruined your life.” He felt the trembling in his lips begin once more and he turns his head to hide it. “Everything that’s happened… to you… to me. It’s all my fault.”

Strong fingers grab his chin and force his gaze back, and Tony’s glaring down at him. “No, none of this is your fault.”

“Are you stupid?!” Peter bites, cheeks heating up with both frustration and embarrassment. He shakes off Tony’s grip on his chin. “You told me to stay away from those weapons, but I didn’t listen! And then I end up getting into trouble, and you felt the need to come rescue me!” He grips his hair, pulling at the curls in frustration and turning back to his lap as he continues to ramble. “And-and it’s my fault that I left my suit on my floor before bed. So it’s my fault when Beck found them,” he turns his gaze back up to Tony, tears now flowing freely from his eyes, “and it’s my fault that I didn’t fight back. I’m Spider-Man… it’s-it’s, he should have no power over me and-and he only has it because I’m scared.”

Tony’s grip is softer this time when he grabs his chin.

“Hey,” he soothes, lifting his other hand to wipe away the tears, “don’t you ever blame yourself for this. You’re a kid, I’m an adult, and it’s my job to keep you safe.” His gaze turns steely, and Peter feels his grip tighten slightly on his chin. “I just need to know one thing Peter… did he hurt you?”

The silence and the immediate influx of tears was apparently enough confirmation for the man, and he instantly releases Peter, a tight growl rumbling through his chest as he pushes himself off the bed. Peter sees the orange flareup appearing above the man’s collar, climbing up the veins of his neck. He knew well enough to know Tony’s intentions.

“No,” he chokes, diving after the man. He grabs a strong fistful of his shirt before he could get too far, and Tony turns to look down at him, his blue eyes vivid as ever. “Please don’t…”

“Peter,” Tony growls, a tight rumbling passing through him. “He’s not getting away with this. He’s not getting away with laying his hands on you.”

“Please…” Peter begged desperately. “Please don’t kill him… Please.” He’s crying in earnest now, and Tony takes pity.

He grabs Peter’s hand, gently prying it from his clothes to hold firmly in his palm. “Pete.”

“Please don’t leave,” Peter tries.

He couldn’t stand the thought of being responsible for Beck’s death, because then the world’s point would be proven. Spider-Man was just as bad as Iron Man. Any notion of ‘hero’ was dead.

He knows Tony will kill him. He can see it in his eyes. The rage.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Peter…” Peter’s tempted to label the sound that emits from the man as a soft whine as Tony slowly sits himself back on the mattress, never releasing his hold of Peter’s hand.

“Stay.” He tugs Tony closer. If he was close enough to hold onto, Peter could keep him from leaving.

“Okay, okay,” Tony relents, scooting back up beside him. Peter doesn’t risk doing anything more than pressing his shoulder against him. The touch was enough to draw him comfort for the moment. Just enough to lull him back into a peaceful sleep.

***

Beck’s seething, fisting the red cloth in his hand. Peter was gone… and he was in deep shit. There was no way CPS wouldn’t investigate him after this. He stares at the undecorated Christmas Tree standing lifelessly in the corner as he downs another swig from his bottle. He grimaces. He didn’t usually go immediately for the hard liquor, but the week had been particularly difficult for him. After his Boss found out about Tony Stark being alive… it had been chaotic. And it never failed to construct a headache waiting just for him at the end of the day.

There were two sharp knocks at the door, and he flinched in surprise, eyes darting to the clock hung on the wall. 10:48. Who the hell was at his door so late at night?

Before he even had a chance to stand from his easy chair, his door blew in.

He leaped from the chair, dropping everything in his hands during his frantic stumble. The bottle shattered on the floor, and the suit soaked up the spilt liquid. He shouted in surprise and stared at the man standing in his doorway.

“S-Stark?”

The man in question steps past the threshold, onto the fallen door. His eyes glowed, his entire body illuminated like he was under the light of a strong fire. He doesn’t say anything, but Beck thinks he knows why he was here.

Beck slowly moves himself away from the room, backpedaling as quickly as possible, tripping over his own drunken steps. Stark moves closer.

“Hey, Stark. What are- what are you doin’ here?”

“I think you know.” His voice was gravelly and strained, and Beck shuddered.

“I-I really don’t,” he lies. He crashes into the decorative table set up at the beginning of the hall. A potted plant and several books crashing to the floor.

Stark steps closer, chin dipping to his chest which only highlights his sharp, shining glare, his head tilting only slightly to the side.

“I reeally think you do.”

Beck falls to the ground.

And as Tony begins to gain on him, he starts his rambling. “Whatever that kid told you was a total lie, I swear. He makes up all kinds of stories! I’ve been nothing but hospitable--” Tony grabs him by the throat, lifting him clean off the ground with nothing more than his human arm. Then he squeezes, bringing their faces close as Beck chokes desperately around his hand.

“It’s too late,” he whispers into his face, voice calm and soothing, “I remember you… how much trouble you were back in the day.” A dangerous grin flitted over Stark’s face. “Nothing you say will get you out of this. I’m going to make you feel every bit of pain my kid suffered at your hands. In fact, if it wasn’t for that kid, I’d slit you open and splash around like a child playing in a puddle, and string your guts around that tree like decorative garlands. You best be glad I’m a man of my word...”

***

When Peter blinks awake, his head is lying on the pillow, blankets pulled up around his shoulders and Tony sat beside him. Head thrown back against the headboard, mouth open, snoring, and a discarded tablet hanging loosely in his grip atop his lap.

Peter smiles, snuggling further into the pillow and pulling the blankets tight around him.

He didn’t think to pay any mind to the small splatter of red on the cuffs of his shirt.

Next Chapter

@multiverse-irondad-july

#Villainous July 2021 #VillainousJuly2021 #villain tony stark #extremis tony stark #dark tony stark #protective tony stark #insecure tony stark #fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt peter parker #sad peter parker #irondad #protective dad mode #villain appreciation

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retrievablememories · 4 years

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try again | ten

title: try again pairing: ten x black!reader genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff request: “Can I ask a dark Ten and his black wife having a miscarriage and feeling like she failed him in being a good wife and making him a father so she wants a divorce so he can be happy with someone else but he persists on being with her not matter what happens. Thanks for taking it!” word count: 2.9k warnings: mentions of a miscarriage, depression/grief, marital troubles a/n: my computer/photoshop is being raggedy as hell so i don’t have an actual banner pic or paragraph separators for now 😢 god. i ended up watching a 15 min youtube video about newborns b/c of this fic, tho, so that was fun

Seeing those two little lines was one of the happiest days of your life.

After trying for nearly a year and thinking it was never going to happen, you finally got a positive result. You took 5 tests to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it was as real as it could possibly be. The doctor’s confirmation only sealed the deal.

To know that there was a small life growing inside you that you could call your own, made from both you and Ten’s DNA, was astounding to you. There were many nights where you simply laid in bed tracing shapes over your stomach, wondering what your child would be like and if they already knew how much you adored them. You especially loved it when Ten would lay his head on your chest and caress your stomach, speaking softly to both you and your growing child.

Some hidden part of you had wanted to be hesitant about celebrating this developing chapter of your life, not knowing if things would turn out alright since it had been so difficult to conceive before. Soon, though, you let that worry fade to the back of your mind in the face of your overwhelming joy. You filled your hours with thinking about baby names and baby nurseries and baby clothes, wanting to create the best life you possibly could for your little one.

You willed your fears not to get the best of you for once and instead poured all your energy into creating that reality. A reality that, unbeknownst to you both, wouldn’t come to pass.

You can still remember that blissful feeling now, if you concentrate hard enough and try to push past the pain. You hold onto that glimpse of happiness very tightly, drawing what you can from its memory until you can receive nothing more.

Back when you first lost the baby, Ten had promised you he could never be mad at you about it, even though you asked him over and over again—nearly everyday—if he was upset with you. Even then, he didn’t get angry with you asking all the time, which somehow made you feel worse. Like even more of a burden. You tried to stop asking about it, stop thinking about it, but his words weren’t quite enough to reassure you.

Despite your best efforts—from both you and him—the seed of doubt implanted itself in your mind anyway and slowly began festering there.

Where your bed once was a place where you dreamed about your future child, and even conceived them there, it’s now become something of a prison. A constant reminder of what happened and what won’t happen. The sheets are more like arms that suffocate you in their hold and keep you confined in a cocoon of pain. Despite your desire to be free of this cage that’s sprung up around you, you find it impossible to escape.

Whenever Ten is off at work, you continually ruminate on the past year of failures. Your one tiny hope and the end of its brief light, so quick that it’s difficult to remember how it happened. No, you don’t recall much from the day you were rushed to the hospital or how the miscarriage itself occurred, though you think maybe it’s better that way.

You’re somewhat grateful for how the human brain knows how to protect itself from trauma. Sometimes it’s the only way to survive. You find it incredibly ironic, though, how things we don’t remember still imprint themselves on our minds and souls. You experience the pain as acutely as if you’d been mentally present for it all.

The dark thoughts press in more closely whenever Ten is not next to you, though you never feel completely whole even when he is around to comfort you. Your mood worsens in the day, when he’s gone at work. You don’t even have your own work anymore to take your mind off of things, having taken a month off to recover. The worries that plague you during these hours make it hard to do much of anything but lie in bed and sleep.

You’re more grateful for his presence than he can know, but you also feel increasingly guilty when he’s the one who has to do most of the housework. If you had the energy or motivation to do it, you would; but right now, those feelings are lost to you. You keep hoping to yourself that you’ll find your way out of this dark place soon, even though you are more suffocated by it by the minute.

On a day where you find it especially difficult to keep the thoughts at bay, you contemplate many things.

What would it be like if you were no longer here? If Ten could find another wife who could actually give him what he so desired, without failing this time? He deserves that much, doesn’t he? To have a family of his own, even if it can’t be with you. Maybe you can’t have kids at all, and your short pregnancy was the only chance you had of conceiving. In that case, you reason that he should be able to go off and find someone else instead of you clinging so tightly to him, unable to let go.

It pains you to do it, but you begin writing a note for him to find later, too afraid to tell him out loud what you’ve been thinking and what you plan to do. You don’t know if anything you’re writing makes sense, but you feel like you have to do it either way; there’s no point in staying and making you both more miserable.

That night, Ten holds you as he falls asleep, like every other night. You stay awake for hours after he drifts off, turning your plan over in your head. A few tears drop from your eyes, but you quickly wipe them away, ignoring your own heartache. You’ve already set your mind to it.

When Ten gets home that Thursday, he’s surprised and a little panicked to see your car not in the driveway. It’s been sitting there for weeks, but now that it’s gone, it must mean you’ve went somewhere.

Maybe you’ve gathered enough strength to go out today and go shopping, something you always liked to do. A part of him suspects that isn’t the real answer, though, which only increases his anxiety. Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but he decides to check just in case.

He calls you, but it goes straight to voicemail. When he tries a few more times with the same result, his nervousness turns into full-blown panic. Unsure what to do, he decides to text you despite knowing he probably won’t get an answer.

6:25 P.M. Y/N are you okay? Where are you???

6:26 P.M. If you decided to go out today just text or call me back please, I just need to know you’re okay

6:26 P.M. I’m really worried

Ten finally gets out of the car and goes in the house, rushing up the stairs to your shared bedroom. He’s doubtful he’ll find anything there, but he needs some kind of answer for what’s going on. To his surprise, there’s a note lying on the bed.

Chittaphon,

I’m leaving for a while. Please don’t panic or be upset, I’ll be safe where I’m going. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything, but maybe it will be easier this way. I’m not sure if I can continue on like this. I have to think about some things. I want you to know that I’ve loved you since the first moment, but I don’t know if that’s enough anymore.

I did everything I could to help us form a life together, but I failed anyway. I hate myself for it. I don’t blame you if you hate me too, or if you’re only staying with me because you think I can’t make it on my own right now. I just want you to find happiness again, whether I’m there or not.

Y/N

Ten shakily sits on the bed, covering his mouth with his hand and closing his eyes tightly against the tears. The absolute stillness of the house without you in it is overbearing, and he puts his head between his knees as he tries to block the quiet out. He doesn’t move from that spot for a long time, and his head pounds from the blood rushing to his skull, but that discomfort is nothing compared to the turmoil stirring in his chest.

A loud knocking on the door startles you out of your sleep.

It’s only been a few days since you left your home with Ten, and you’ve kept your phone off and buried at the bottom of your suitcase since then. You had no intentions of talking even if he tried to contact you, and you eliminated that line of communication so you wouldn’t have to. It’s been your small hope that your actions have built up enough to make him hate you, to not want to contact you anymore, to agree to a divorce—although that thought brings you more pain all the same.

You stumble out of bed and into the hallway, and there’s an ensuing commotion on the other side of the hall as your parents come rushing out of their room. Your mother comes to your side with concern and panic on her face, grabbing your arm. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, though you’re trembling a little from the sudden noise.

“I don’t know who the hell is banging on the door like that at this time of night, but let me tell you…” Your father curses under his breath as he heads to the living room to peek out the window and see who it is. He quickly comes back into the hallway with a puzzled expression. “Y/N, it’s your husband.”

“Chittaphon? I thought you said you both agreed it’d be best for you to come home for a little while? Why is he here at this hour?” Your mom gives you a wide-eyed look, waiting for your explanation, and your head begins to hurt from the hurricane of emotions you’re enduring.

Your fingers fidget as you try to steady your nerves enough to respond. “Please, just let me talk to him alone. I-I know why he’s here, but we have to talk…”

Ten bangs on the door again, and your dad gives a skeptical glance. “Are you sure?”

“It’s fine, I promise,” you say, gently ushering your parents back to their room. “Please, just let me handle this.” They look like they want to say or do something more, but they relent to your request and leave you in the hallway alone. Your mother glances at you from behind the door before closing it, though you notice she doesn’t shut it all the way.

When you open the door, Ten stands there looking at you from behind the screen door with distress written all over his face. The mesh screen obscures his features a bit, but you can still read him from a mile away. You immediately feel guilty, though you don’t make any move to open the door. You’ve already made your decision—but mostly for his sake.

Ten drops his backpack—the only thing he has with him—and presses his hands against the mesh as if he could touch you through it. You back up a little when he does, standing further away from the entrance. He sounds like he’s been running a marathon when he speaks. “Why did you leave?”

“Why are you here?”

“Y/N, I know there is only one place you’d go for sure in a situation like this. And I was right. Why did you leave?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think this is a good idea anymore.”

“What isn’t a good idea? Us being together?”

“We should get a divorce,” you say quietly, somewhat afraid of his reaction, though you still think it needs to be put out in the air.

Ten is lost for words, and he has to think for a few moments before speaking again. “Y/N. Just tell me this one thing. Do you hate me?”

You’re quiet for a moment. You want to tell him yes, to make this separation easier so he can forget about you and move on. But your throat tightens at the idea of letting that word pass your lips. Tears sting the backs of your eyes even though you silently beg them not to.

“No.” Your voice wavers a little when you respond. “I just...want you to be happy. I’m sure you read the note.”

“You’ve forgotten one thing. I can’t be happy without you.”

“But you were happy before you met me. You can do that again.”

Ten presses his forehead against the door, knowing he has to keep his patience even if he’s upset. “But we’re together now, and now that you’re in my life I don’t want you to ever leave.”

“Chittaphon, please. You don’t need me. The only thing I’ve done lately is be a burden to you.”

“Y/N. You know, I considered just letting you go wherever you needed to go to make things less painful for you. That’s the only reason I didn’t come up here immediately. I thought maybe you’d fallen out of love with me, didn’t want to see me again, and that I just needed to let you be for a while...but Y/N, I can’t be without you. I’m not going to leave my wife alone when she needs me the most—whether you’ll allow yourself to believe that or not.”

The first tears drop despite your resistance to them, and you have to struggle to talk through the knot in your throat. “But I-I couldn’t—I’ve been a terrible wife, I couldn’t give you the child you w-wanted, that we b-both wanted…” You lean against a nearby wall for stability as your body grows weaker. “We tried so hard for a year, and…”

Ten clings more tightly to the mesh, his own tears dripping from his chin. “Please open the door.” At this point you are too shattered to deny him, and you seek his comfort even though you feel undeserving of it.

When Ten finally coaxes you onto the porch, he pulls you straight into his arms and holds you close, allowing himself to simply breathe in the scent of your hair and skin. You both end up sinking to the wooden porch floor, with Ten embracing you.

“Y/N, I’m begging you to trust me. There’s no way I could hate or blame you for this,” he says quietly, your tears wetting each other’s skin. “Sometimes things happen that we don’t understand. That just means we have to get through them together.” He pulls back a little to make you look at him, his hands cradling your face. “We can always try again. This doesn’t have to be the end, Y/N.”

You nod slowly, looking into his despairing eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You allow him to bring your head to his chest—the same as he often did with you. His heartbeat thuds under your ear, and the sound makes you feel calmer than you’ve been in weeks. You sit together like that for a while, listening to the sounds of wildlife all around you and letting yourselves mend the broken pieces of each other.

You wake up to the sensation of a small, wiggling weight on your chest, and you’re confused as to what’s going on until you hear the sound of a familiar set of giggles. A smile crosses your face before you even open your eyes, and you reach your hand out to feel a bundle of soft, curly hair.

“Are you awake already? It’s so early.” More happy laughter is your response, and you finally let loose a chuckle of your own. You open your eyes to the sight of your 1-year-old son nose-to-nose with you, his warm breaths puffing across your face. He smiles and squeals loudly when he sees you looking at him, and you scoop him up into your arms to cuddle him close.

“Good morning my little boy,” you sigh, kissing the top of his head. He smells freshly-washed, so you know Ten must’ve given him a bath already. Your son is more interested in treating you like a playground and climbing all over you rather than lying in your arms, but you’re more than happy to let him play to his heart’s content.

The door to your bedroom opens soon after, the smell of breakfast drifting into the room. The bed sinks behind you as Ten climbs on, and your son squeals even louder at the sight of his father. Laughing, Ten picks the small boy up and nuzzles his face into his hair before turning to you.

“Hey sexy, breakfast is ready,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

“Don’t flatter me, I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet,” you say this with a grin as Ten keeps kissing your face, with your son trying to get in between you so he can give you kisses too. You wrap your arms around both of them and you all huddle up in a heap on the bed, laughing and falling over each other. In this moment, you have little doubt that you’re the happiest person in the world.

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goldeneyedgirl · 3 years

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JaliceWeek21 - Day 7: No Dialogue: This Time

Is... is this what organisation feels like? Having a fic ready to post?

Kayla wanted more Divorce Jalice, which I haven’t posted outside of Discord yet, but this is basically a snapshot of their reconciliation.

he.

I saw you for the first time when we were seventeen and, Alice, I fell in love with you first sight. God, I was a goner who made a complete fool of himself trying to impress you and, despite my very best efforts, somehow you felt the same way.

It takes him the best part of the week to write the letter.

He struggles to find the words he wants to say. It feels a little dangerous, even writing the letter - she made herself clear when she moved in, that she didn’t want to remarry him. That it had taken months of negotiations for Alice to even agree to move in. And then there had been the long debate about her paying her share, even though her freelancing was successful and she was rarely at a loss for work, every trip to the ER left her exhausted for days. She didn’t make a salary, didn’t have any benefits… it just wasn’t reasonable or even expected for her to cover exactly half of the household expenses plus her own - he knew how much she loathed taking money from her family, but had made peace with it when she had no other choice.

And they had been had reached a good place, together. He’d argue it was better now than it had been when they were younger - there was so much laughter, so much conversation, and there was never a night when he didn’t look at her, curled up asleep in his arms, when he didn’t thank every power on earth that he’d been given another chance with Alice.

This… this was something else entirely. This was putting his entire heart in her hands, and risking losing her entirely. He knew Alice, better than he had before, and he knew that if she wasn’t at least a tiny bit open to this, she’d just move out again. Give them both ‘space’.

So, he writes the letter over and over again until it’s as good as it’s going to get. Then he writes it again because he’s smeared the ink.

But finally, it’s done, and he keeps it in his bag - like a ticking bomb. He goes home, they have dinner together and go to bed early to make love and watch the end of a movie. He sleeps with her in his arms, and he tries not to think that if this all goes wrong, this will be it - the very last time. That she’ll be gone again, like a ghost, and he already knows how wrong that will feel.

He leaves her sleeping the next morning, with a kiss to her temple. He walks across the road to the bodega for the good bagels and a bunch of flowers. He leaves them in the kitchen, and props up the letter in front of the vase.

And then he pulls the rings out. The fine, etched wedding ring, and the sapphire engagement ring. The initials and dates are engraved in the inside of both rings, three sets of Whitlock grooms and brides. He’d felt like a failure when he’d taken them back, had broken a link in an unbreakable chain. They were always destined to be passed to one of Rosalie’s children, but freely given, maybe even bequeathed. Never across a conference table, in front of lawyers.

Never as an act of pity and kindness when he had been buzzing from whatever cocktail of pills and alcohol he’d chased with an espresso before he signed away any legal or emotional connection to Alice.

Fuck, he was still ashamed and guilty. He still hated himself, especially now he knew the entire story.

He stares at the rings in his hand and hopes. That’s all he has left. Hope. And then he tucks them into the envelope.

It’s done. Whatever happens next, it is what it is.

she.

I have struggled with how close I came to losing you forever, and I think I always will. I need you to know that you are, and have always been, the best and most precious thing to me.

It’s a normal morning when she wakes up. Jasper leaves the curtains drawn these days, leaves her to sleep the morning away, if that’s what she needs. There have been a few little set-backs with her health over the last few years, but mostly she’s good.

No, not good. Better than good. Happy, content, loved. It’s more than she ever hoped for, in those dark days between one failed surgery and the next; when she and her surgeons had to debate the benefits of more surgery versus a full transplant, and she was alone with no one to lean on, no hand to hold.

Looking back, she wants to comfort her past self, let her know that better days are coming, that Jasper will come back to her - and her Jasper, not the man she divorced - and she’ll be okay. That every empty hospital room, every nurse that pitied her lack of flowers, and family and friends clustered around her bedside as she waited for the doctors’ verdict, her chest stitched and stapled and swathed in bandages, is just another step closer to things being wonderful again. That she and Jasper are both better people, better friends, better partners and lovers for everything that happened.

She gets out of bed, and heads towards the bathroom - detouring into her bedroom to retrieve clothes. She’s got a half-done piece on her desk, one that needs to be finished and shipped to her client in the next week or so.

After her shower, she locates her phone. The lock-screen is a photo of her and Jasper, the weekend he dragged her to California for some conference. They’re sprawled out on a sun-lounger together, grinning at the camera. It’s her favourite photo of him, of them. She can see his tattoos snaking around his side, his arm, his shoulder, and his neck; his hair is pulled back in a ridiculous ponytail she finds impossibly sexy, and the smile on his face is pure, unadulterated happiness. She’s tucked into his side in the silly (he called them ‘hot’ and ‘adorable’) heart-shaped sunglasses he’d bought her when she forgot hers. She’s got her hands clasped against her chest, her head nestled against his, and she’s smiling too. She remembers being so nervous about wearing a bikini for the first time, with her scars, but he’d convinced her, and they’d had a great day. A few people stared, but that was normal.

That had been the week he’d started wearing his wedding ring again, and when she’d asked, he’d dismissed it by saying he was tired of people hitting on him, even after he told them he wasn’t interested - and at the conference, with alcohol and the beach, it would be more annoying.

She’d let him think she believed that excuse and let it go.

It’s after eleven, and there’s no messages from him. Usually when she gets up, there’s at least three or four - maybe a photo of good coffee art if he stops by his usual place; a link to a restaurant or a movie he thinks they’d enjoy; or maybe an article that will make her laugh. And always a ‘good morning beautiful’ just before lunchtime.

Not today, not yet. Not so much as a dirty emoji message as a joke. There’s one from Rosalie (lunch on Friday), one from a prospective client, and one from Esme (family lunch on Sunday, can she and Jasper bring a dessert).

She frowns as she slips into the kitchen, and her gaze falls on the flowers - a mess of bright yellows and blues and pinks and purples. They’re beautiful and unnecessary and she’s already reaching for her phone again when she sees the letter propped up against it.

And for a second, she thinks her heart stops.

they.

I know you didn’t buy whatever I told you about me wearing my ring again. Because it was never about anyone else. It’s about you and me, and my commitment to you - my promise that as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here. And that’s why I want you to have these back - because they have always been yours.

He walks home the long way. Home, in that moment, feels like a trap. Until he gets there, slides the key into the lock, he still has a partner, a girlfriend, a quasi-wife who told him so damn clearly that she didn’t want more than what they had.

(He knows it all now. The depth of the hurt, the pain. Pondering if she should have just cancelled the surgery and died quietly in the bed next to him whilst he drank and got high and fucked around behind her back. The days she spent in a hospital bed, alone and forgotten whilst he sat in a hard plastic chair in a church basement and admitted he had a problem. The long nights in the ER, holding her breath that it was just a false alarm, and nothing to worry about. Couples therapy had been as damning as it had been cleansing, and he carries her lost years with him everywhere, reminding him to be better, reminding him of how close it all came to being unfixable. He understands why she shies away from remarrying him when their marriage was always tangled up in so much hurt, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting more, wanting the most she can give.)

She’s in the kitchen, cooking dinner, when he walks in the door. That has to be a good sign. The apartment is warm and cosy, and it feels more like a home than anywhere he’s ever lived. He doesn’t want that to change.

Clutching his peace offering - a raspberry cake from the place a few blocks away - he walks into the kitchen.

She’s always the most beautiful woman in the room, in the world, to him and that’s no different tonight. There are no words for her, flitting around the kitchen like she knows what she’s doing, the curl of her hair against her cheek, the way she bites her lip as she checks something on the stove.

The way she brushes her hair out of her face with a hand that is wearing a fine, etched wedding ring, and a sapphire engagement ring that has their initials and wedding year engraved on the inside, and his heart definitely freezes in his chest and she’s wearing them again and that’s not something he let himself hope for. He prepared himself for the very worst and he’s found the very best and he doesn’t know what to say.

She meets his gaze with that warm smile, the one that is a little secretive and knowing that she only ever offers to him, and he holds out the cake like an offering and as she takes it, her eyes lighting up, he moves around the island to scoop her into his arms and kiss her. She squeals and somehow manages to put the cake down before she throws her arms around his neck, and he can feel her smiling against his lips.

He kisses her like it’s the very last time he’ll ever kiss her, like he’s trying to prove something. And maybe he is. Maybe he’s always going to be making up the past to her, like he can erase the hurt, the pain, the suffering. But they don’t have a time machine, and she’s long since made peace with everything that happened. Addiction is an illness, like everything else, but one that never truly goes away. The same way her heart will always been a little bit broken, he will also have that struggle. Maybe some day it will win again; there will probably be days when he does fall, just as long as there are more days he doesn’t. And that’s okay - she didn’t fall in love with him expecting him to be perfect. And the more she thinks about it, reflects on the apologies and the things he’s told her about everything that happened, she knows he never intended to hurt her.

Jasper’s been the centre of her universe since they were seventeen, since he looked across a classroom at her like he was starstruck and then grinned, that same grin he’s wearing now like he’s won an unwinnable prize. As if she could have resisted him, back then and right now.

That everything she is to him, he is to her.

He pulls back to look her in the eyes, to take her hand wearing the rings and to kiss it. She kisses him again hard and that’s all he needs to hoist her over his shoulder, her squealing and laughing, and it’s the best sound in the world as he turns off the stove and the oven, and sweeps her off towards his room.

Towards their room, both of them giddy, drunk on each other, on the idea that they’re in the same place at the same time, happy, healthy, and whole. Together, forever (this time.)

There is nothing in the world I love or will even love a much as I love you.

#jaliceweek #alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #twilight fic #twilight renaissance #human au #wip #my fic: divorce jalice #romance #no dialogue

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

more like honeymoon [2]

previous part

word count: 3769

warnings: loving couple throws fists

music: in the text

LOS ANGELES by blink-182 segment

You had a dream that the prison world was being destroyed. The fearful suspicion was on the back of your mind at all times, but you didn’t know how to express it. Kai always said you were the more paranoid one. All the bad outcomes, you always considered them. You argued that this kind of pessimistic outlook saved your live even when you didn’t know it did. Well, look where you are now, he would reply. Not that it’s bad, so I don’t know what I’m trying to prove here. He just liked to argue.

The white light together with earthquake came, and the ground crumbled beneath your feet. Kai was somewhere away, you could only see his silhouette as he stood on a hill or something. You were now staying in Los Angeles. The end came while you were running to him, the whiteness becoming your least favorite color. Your heart was tearing apart because you were so tired of something constantly trying to stop you from being together.

You woke up in your happy crowdless realm, the queen of enclosed nothingness, and felt like you wanted to go home for the first time. Just because this dimension was more fragile.

Kai was sleeping next to you, his nose deep in the pillow, and you had no idea which part of him was responsible for breathing. Like in a trance, you crawled out of bed and left through the balcony doors to look down on the city lit by nobody, to make sure the world was intact. It didn’t, and wouldn’t, go anywhere. You got used to being here alone and having it all, so quickly, a part of you couldn’t imagine sharing this planet, and Kai, with anybody.

When you returned to bed, Kai was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. His hand took your chin and turned your head to him.

“Where were you?”

“I had a bad dream”.

Kai was a pro in bad dreams. He had a black belt in going back to hell through his dreams. Agonizing, long, realistic nightmares plagued his head no matter how deep he shoved it under the blankets. He looked a little strict for someone who consoles another after a bad dream. You had your suspicions he had other things on his mind. Sometimes you would catch him observe you as if he was expecting you to run away.

LA1 by Moby segment

You were finishing the book. This was the book you’ve been meaning to read ever since you were fourteen. When everybody nailed it at school, you were busy with other more interesting stuff, and so, you never ended up reading it. Now was the epitome of everybody’s ‘one day’. People leave interesting tv shows, tedious chores, the best packs of cookies and postponed hobbies for that cryptic ‘one day’ but it never comes. Not for most people at least. Now, you two, more so you than Kai, finally faced this neverending time period to do everything procrastination took away from you. You finally were finishing that damn book.

As you laid there at the pool of your new house, and the sun was sending blinding specks jumping off the water, Kai was drawing complicated shapes on the side of your leg and looking down the valley of Los Angeles, the city where he was king. Just like everywhere else.

“I think I have memorized every inch of you by now”, he said.

You swallowed down a sigh, because you were about fourteen pages away from the end. You knew when Kai started talking, there would be nothing else but talking for at least fifty minutes.

“Good, now, if I get into a horrible car crash and get terribly disfigured you will recognize my body one way or another”, you replied, trying to at least finish the page. Kai’s hand laid on the paper, pulling it away.

“Once we get out”, you smiled.

“If we get out”, he corrected you.

You let go of the book he was pulling away. He didn’t like sharing you.

“You think... we’ll be here long?”

“The spell is all we have, and it’s useless”, he shrugged like he didn’t care. “There’s nothing else. The ascendant is out there, and we don’t have a Bennet here to cut her...”

“Do these things have expiration date?” you asked, worried, “is it possible that one day, this prison will collapse and disappear?”

He looked at you, his hand caressing your knee absently.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s awesome here though, isn’t it? You like it, right?”

“Of course I do”, you nodded, without giving it too much thought. You looked down to the city where Kai’s gaze has been wandering earlier. “I’m still waiting for the horror to kick in, but it doesn’t. Either I’m too jaded to care, or...”

You bit your lip hard, thinking, whether you’re willing to spoil him. Parker’s palm squeezed your skin lightly. His hands were always warm, and he never refused to tickle you. He was a perfect guy to live with in a prison world: impossible to exhaust, handsy and resourceful. He could stay in one place for weeks, or drive through several states in one day. He knew every part of this magical planet and never felt lost anymore. It was bittersweet how this luxury of traveling without any discomfort came after eighteen years of him agonizing here alone.

He looked good with the hills of Los Angeles on the background, serving as colorful addition to him. His dark hair, and gun-like eyes, his demeanor of rich cynical kid who’s going to do you on the kitchen counter and never call again - only, Kai was following you everywhere.

“Or?” he took you out of your pondering. He didn’t like that either, when you drifted off in the middle of conversation. What are you thinking about? Who are you thinking about, Y/N? His tone of voice always said, I took you as far as an enchanted prison world so that you can’t see other guys, and you still have your head in the clouds.

“The feeling of having everything you need in your arms is intoxicating”, you sighed. The fundemental sensation of being completely satisfied with your life, while being in a literal prison world, came from the realization. Kai Parker was the final point of whatever path you’ve been striding. You weren’t one for professing your love passionately, or expressing it many times. But this one time you felt like you needed to get it off your chest.

“You ever had that?”

He blinked.

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to move on? You wanted to see Fontana, right?” he asked, a bit lost, and he sounded like his mouth was dry. You took your book back from him.

“Pomona first”.

That night there was vivid change in Kai; instead of pounding you into the bed, like he usually did, as you both enjoyed it, he laid low, pressing you into the matrass with all his body. You felt almost like suffocating on the long, stretching feeling he was drilling into you with passionate, deep movements. For the first time you felt what it was like when you’re trying to jump out of your own skin with pleasure, after all the crying and moaning is just not enough.

“Wait for me, baby”, he was whispering, as you two moved together, hips to hips, shoulders to shoulders, and you thought your eyes will pop out, that maybe your nails are already halfway inside his shoulder blades. Kai was changing; he has been for some time now. He was becoming calmer and happier, and now, as he was making you come and told you to hold on at the same time, for a second there you could see him, shed of all his layers. The Kai Parker he would’ve been many years before, many tortures and catastrophes, and murders ago. The magic, devilish temptation, malevolence, misery and memories aside, there he finally was, a person who was begging you not to come without him, because even that, he didn’t want to do alone. As you clutched the hair on the back of his head, soft, just slightly curly, you felt your body fill with love, that kind that never really lets go of you. Because you finally saw the last manifestation of him, the last entity that lived in him, and it needed you, and loved you.

Kai, too, was making love as opposed to your usual experimental mutual fucking. Both types brought you joy; after he collapsed on the pillow next to you, you knew he would never be the old Kai. You could feel it in your guts.

I’M ON FIRE by Bruce Springsteen segment

“I could take you literally anywhere, and you still choose America”.

You dragged your now big bag on the glistening asphalt, sweating in heat, and gave up, motioning towards it.

“Technically, Hawaii...”

“Technically, Hawaii is America”, he nodded, picking up your bag, “but I hear you”.

“The Pacific, Kai”.

“You know what I did when I was here?” he asked, for the thousandth time in nine months.

“Climbed the Everest”, you chanted, rolling your eyes.

“Climbed the Everest”, he noted proudly. It took about a week? for you to convince him you weren’t interested in dying forty-five times before you finally reach the top of the mountain. He clicked his tongue finally, saying there’s no adventure to you. That’s how you ended up jumping off the Grand Canyon. Dares always led you to some drastic decisions you later regretted.

You settled on the famous North Shore, where the ocean was blue and green, and the palm trees swayed every day... all the day. At three oh seven, it rained for eleven minutes, and then, a majestic double rainbow stood above Oahu. The evening was so beautiful you felt you wouldn’t get tired of it in a hundred years. It’s really hard to get tired of hawaiian sunsets. Everything was perfect.

Until your phone rang.

When you were clutching on Kai, your belly bag was on you, together with all essential things in the world of the twenty-first century. You had your phone in there, the charger in case of anything, car keys, wallet, pack of plasters and some gum. It all traveled with you into the world of ‘94, and that’s how you listened to music from the future in the world of the past. The charger was especially useful, because you could keep your phone turned on and took pictures. Literally everything you did resembled a young couple’s honeymoon. You were forced to delete everything from your phone though, so that it could contain all the photos from different places. You even joked that, once you run out of space completely, it’ll be time to go home.

Another once we get out moment.

Now, your phone, that survived here for nine months because you were charging it regularly, rang, and you didn’t even pay attention at first. It hasn’t rung before. This thing is not supposed to ring, it’s supposed to play music and take pictures of Kai as he is being adorable, sleeping in his king-sized bed, his head buried in the pillow.

You stood like a dummy in the middle of the parking lot, waiting for him to bring the bags to the car. And the phone was ringing.

What is this noise? you thought. Then your hand slipped into your pocket, and your heart got confused as to whether to sink or to leap. Your brain got squeezed inside your skull. Rage, and relief, and worry filled you. You knew so many things at the same time. Suddenly you knew you missed home like crazy. You missed leaving the house and seeing dumb people around. You missed not being a spoiled brat living in the houses that didn’t belong to you. Missed the traffic on the streets, and you missed animals and birds. In this world, there weren’t so much as spiders, crawling around and creeping you out. Not a mosquito, not a lousy worm. No sharks in the ocean, no swallows in the skies.

Also, you knew you’d kick Damon’s ass so hard he’s going to choke on his own kidneys. You recalled the moment you threw yourself in front of Kai, so full of yourself, and announced,

you wanna send him away again, you gotta send me with him

and Damon looked at you with his ever exhausted silver eyes of a jaded cat, and said,

okay.

And sent you, the person he used to call a friend, into the prison world.

Also, you knew, somehow, that Kai will be unhappy about this. Many times that he asked you ‘you like it here, right?’ you felt he was now clinging on the very place he used to be horrified of. It was way more than your own ego, so you barely thought that it was you that changed his perception. You were secretly scared his mind will start telling him this condition of things is normal. That only two people in the world is normal. And he won’t want to leave once the chance comes. That all his once we get outs is just him playing along with you, while he knows, in the back of his mind, that you’re never getting out, and he doesn’t care if it drives you crazy.

You answered the phone and didn’t say anything. Damon was silent, too, for a second.

“Well”, he said finally, “how you lovin’ it?”

You found his cockiness inappropriate. Not like he has locked you in a closet with a bully and came round in fourteen minutes to check on you.

“What is it? Are you here?” you asked, you throat dry.

Kai left the supermarket and was about a hundred steps away. It was going to rain in half an hour.

“Yes, we decided to pick you up, so to say”, he replied shortly.

“You decided I have learnt my lesson? Decided I was now good to go home, that’s what you decided?” you asked, your voice bubbling inside your throat like a pillar of boiling air.

“Give it to me...” Elena’s voice was closing, and your lungs trembled. You have missed them all. Even the Salvatore douche. God how you missed others. You could see Kai slowed down. He had very good eyes, and he saw you were holding your hand to your ear. He was fifty steps away.

“Y/N, where are you? We came to get you back home. Listen, we never meant to...”

“Ask her about Parker”.

“Are you alright? Are you with him?”

“We’re not taking him with us!”

Your voice quivered.

“I’m fine”.

It came out less bitter than you meant; like you were about to cry, while in reality you were bursting with rage.

“Is he keeping you there? Or has he left you there alone?”

“What do you mean?”

The audacity of them. Left you alone. They’re the only ones who throw their friends into magical prison worlds, for nothing.

“Well, he has stolen the ascendant. We had to build a new one”.

“What are you talking about? Kai doesn’t have the ascendant”.

There was silence. Through the flapping hot hawaiian air, you could see Kai with the paper bags walking towards you.

“Yes, he does”, Elena chuckled sadly. “We thought he’d be out by now”.

“We only found one useless spell, Elena”, you growled, “how are we supposed to get out without Bonnie’s blood?”

“Oh my god”, you heard Damon mutter. The palm trees started swaying in front of you. You knew now yet another thing. You were just afraid to think it.

“Bonnie conjured that one without blood. We didn’t have much time, Y/N. It was just the spell, and the ascendant. You’re saying he found it? Why hasn’t he got out then?”

All your guts sank down there together with your mind. At the same time, there was nothing to be shocked about. The signs were all there. You never even showed interest enough for him to share about the ritual of traveling between the worlds.

“That fucking liar was keeping me here”.

“Y/N, where are you?” Elena was almost yelling now.

“Tell her to go back”.

“Is he abusing you?”

Your face got distorted with anger and bitterness at the same time; you could feel you’re grimacing at him, as the musles in your face and neck went tense.

A gust of wind slapped you in the face, and the phone slipped out of your hand. The invisible pull was so sudden you were grabbed, too, and nearly fell on your face, as the clutch pulled on your hand a little.

“Kai!”

The phone shot through the air, right into his hand, and fifteen steps away, you could see he was furious already. The temper of this guy.

He hopped through the air. Your head was ringing with the echoes of their voices.

Kai couldn’t wait to walk another couple of meters, so he just leaped to you using magic. Perhaps he also did it to startle you more; as he reemerged next to you, his hand laid on your throat, and not the usual possessive sensual way, but ‘i’m about to squeeze the life out of you’ way this time. Your head bumped on the side of the car. The only reason he didn’t smash the phone on the ground was probaby the amount of fantastic pics it held.

“What did he say?” Kai growled.

If you could talk, or breathe, you’d say he’s a dick. You fought him, the anger giving you strength, your fists hitting him into the chest and stomach.

“Is he coming for you?”

Kai was screaming, and you have never seen him like that. For a moment there it felt like the old Parker, the miserable, uncontrollable, lightning throwing witch was back in his skin again, and you couldn’t take it to fix him all over again.

Your hands grabbed on his forearm as you kicked him in the shin as hard as you could. Kai yelled, letting you go, and you could finally breathe.

“Dick”, you scolded, “you dick”.

Your voice was hoarse. He didn’t hear you. Kai was suddenly full of demonic fear and fury, and the noise; he barely felt pain which let go of him in a second.

“You’ve been lying to me?!”

“You’re not going anywhere”, he said, his voice quivering with how much he contained inside. All the acid lava sleeping in the depths of his being, frozen by the comfort of not being disturbed, like he was locked away in a mental institution, now rose again and illuminated his skin from the inside.

“You’re lying to me!”

Too bad you lost it, too. Kai might have become a little like you; but you have become a little like him, too.

“You said there was no way out! While you had the ascendant all along? From day one!”

“You said you liked it here!”

You charged at him, your fist up, and he blocked it easily, hitting you in the stomach.

So, he beats girls, too!

He was never good at seeing the kick coming. God knows why, if you wanted to defeat Kai Parker, you just kicked him with one of your legs. He never sees it coming. The fight exhausted both of you as you screamed atrocities at each other. You knew you were just letting the frustration out; that kind that floods over you when you realize you’ve been wasting months in the prison world while you had all the means of getting out that whole time.

Kai, however, was fueled by something more sinister than that.

You never really meant to hurt him. Just punch him in the teeth for being a proper dick. He knew he was doing wrong, otherwise he wouldn’t be asking this ‘you like it here, right?’ like a broken record all the time.

And like a fool, you always replied, yes, because it was truth.

He now believed you’ve been lying to him, too, like a scared cat that was suddenly brought in at the vet clinic and the doctor was clicking the long metal scissors in front of him. He felt betrayed. He thought you’re dreaming of getting out and see your friends again.

“I am not enough for you! You have the whole world! And me! So what, you meant something else when you said that I am everything you need?” he yelled. Almost at the top of his lungs. The clouds were meanwhile gathering above Manoa, to release the rain in ten minutes.

“I meant it!”

“Then why do you need to leave?!”

“Not me - us!”

“We are not going anywhere! You’re staying here, with me!”

“No, you listen to me, Parker, we’re going back there, together, just like we arrived here! This”, you pointed your finger at the wretched sky where even the rain was on schedule, “is not real”.

As soon as those words left your mouth, you knew he’d misinterpret them.

His mouth moved like he was about to tear down his own face and bit yours off with the bloodied teeth of a skeleton. You could feel your lower lip swell. Blood was dripping down your chin because of how hard you fell on your face after he threw you away with his witchy move. You were about to break his jaw completely, and it was his own doing. If he hadn’t wanted you to become a fighter, he shouldn’t have taught you.

Your right fist was shaking with pain. It felt like you shattered your knuckles completely beating on his stupid head. Nothing in the world could set it right.

“What did you say?”

You felt mortally tired. It felt like when you stood on the edge of the Canyon, like when you were about to fall.

“Kai, this world is fiction. We need to go back out there...”

“It doesn’t work out there!”

“It will”.

He panted. He spat the blood on the ground, and you felt like you wanted to stop fighting and start making out.

The paper bags were scattered all around the car, one lonely banana forgotten under the blazing sun.

“I will fucking kill you for lying to me”, you sighed.

“I thought you loved me”, Kai responded, his voice dead, and your heart shuddered.

“I fucking do!” you roared.

“Then why do you...”

and that, all over again.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #tvd imagine

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alchemist-shizun · 4 years

Text

Why and wherefore

Ts taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious @kim-argent-moon @lance-alt @suffering-is-my-comfort-zone @sometimeswritingsometimesdying @pushussmollworld @mylifeisadeceit @spooky-scary-virgil @angstyfanfiction @artissijam @logicalberry @pistachio-lan @roses-bubbles (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Specific fic taglist: @princessnoodlebug @pinkie-does-fandoms @punsandpodcasts @aceacebaby12345 @not-so-daily-deceit-doodles @pleasantpostmoon @justanotherfanderwriter @mudpuddlenl @sapphic-nd @linhammon-roll-bromance101 @sar-kasstic

Word Count: 2,662

Characters: Mainly Deceit, Virgil and Remus, other sides and Thomas are there briefly.

Pairing(s): Everything's platonic babes

Warning(s): Paranoia, anxiety, angst, crying, fear of abandonment, overthinking, internalizing emotions (tell me if I missed anything)

Summary: Necklaces shared for a never ending friendship. One that paused, but never stopped glowing under dark cloth. And one that, eventually, will shine in the light again.

A/N: Oof I'm so late! Happy birthday to Deceit, this is in his honour, of course I could only gift him angst. I hope y'all like it, it didn't turn out how I expected it to, but maybe you can appreciate it more than me. That said, enjoy!

✾

❝ Take your time, take it from me.

It ain't yours, and nothing comes free.

I'll keep your time 'til someone can see,

When the beat hits your feet,

Aren't you lost and lonely? ❞

Thump, thump, thump.

Virgil jolted up, despite being awake for as long as he had tried to put himself to sleep. No matter how hard he forced his eyes and mind to shut, his breathing and heartbeat wouldn't slow down.

What if, his thoughts told him, driving him sick, what if they abandoned you?

He brought his hands to his face and dug his nails onto his forehead as though to shut that voice up.

They did already, didn't they? Virgil growled, not wanting to believe that, you're in the dark by yourself. They don't want you. You're alone.

That one last line stuck with him and replayed everywhere, in front of him, written on the walls, on the stars. Howling in the wind there was loneliness.

His only loyal companion.

Tears had just started streaming down his face when the door of his room opened with a soft click.

Virgil looked at his side and found Deceit turning on his bedside lamp before focusing on the kid half-trembling on the mattress.

« Hey, sweetie. » his melodious voice had an instant calming down effect.

He reached out and moved from his face a lock of hair which was hiding his eyes. Virgil sniffed one last time.

« Had a nightmare? » Deceit's tone changed to a bittersweet one.

This kid shook his head and gripped at the covers tighter.

« Are you going to leave? »

« Oh, Virgil. » Deceit's expression possibly softened more, he then took Virgil's hands and smiled at him, capturing his attention with his eyes. « There will never be a reason for me to do that. » he reassured.

But Virgil wasn't convinced. He stopped crying, yet his gaze fell to the ground.

Deceit looked around, searching for something to spark an idea into him.

« Listen here. » he finally said, gaining a glance from Virgil. « Would you like something to remind you I'll always be here? »

Anxiety seemed to genuinely reflect, he would have made a good use of a material object for when he couldn't reach out to anyone.

He nodded.

« How about this? » Deceit cupped his hands, everything around his palms and fingers glowed of a bright light that blinded both of their eyes.

As it died, it revealed two necklaces with different coloured and shaped pendants, one of a two-headed snake and a storm cloud with a lightning bolt.

Deceit handed Virgil the yellow one. « You can have my symbol, so it can comfort you whenever you need me. » he asserted. The kid let the necklace fall gently in his palms, eyes widened with the surprise of such a treasure.

« Are they like the bracelets you and Remus share? » he questioned while his fingers worked on undoing the lock of his new accessory.

Deceit helped him in the process until it finally hanged around his neck. « Sort of. » he allowed with a small nod.

He smiled to himself as Virgil admired the pendant.

« As for me, » he then continued, undoing his own storm cloud necklace. « I'll wear this for as long as you're important to me. » his hand lingered on the purple cloud. « Which I know is a time that will never end. »

Virgil smiled softly and surged forwards to wrap his arms around Deceit's chest. The other returned the hug, maybe a bit tighter than needed, such was his fondness for the side.

« Do you need me to stay for the night? »

« No, it's okay. » Virgil loosened the embrace, then brushing the chain of his necklace. « I have you here, anyway. » he laid back down on his bed, satisfied with the gift.

After kissing his forehead and tucking his sheets, Deceit wished him a goodnight and went back to tend to his own tasks in the peace of the night.

✾

Deceit couldn't understand.

They had worn them proudly for years.

No matter what they were doing, where they were going, their necklaces were always with them, or at least by their side.

So he couldn't understand it when Virgil had come back to the dark sides' living room with no sign of the trademark yellow snake shining on his shirt.

It had brought Deceit's mood down, especially when Anxiety so nonchalantly talked to him and Remus, not realizing his deed.

Yet, he didn't speak up about it.

He simply bit his tongue and tasted bitter displeasure.

It wasn't like the end of the world was upon him, and maybe that didn't mean anything at all or perhaps he had really been overthinking it too much.

But what if he was right?

Or still completely wrong: it could have meant a completely positive thing! Virgil didn't need reassurance anymore, he didn't need a constant reminder anymore, he didn't … need him anymore.

So the tormenting feeling loomed over Deceit before he was able to defeat it entirely.

Multiple questions of inevitable impending doom filled his thinking loud enough for him to be unable to follow the conversation.

He was clearly overreacting, wasn't he?

Virgil had noticed his change in demeanour over time, the almost imperceptible shift he had made.

He asked Deceit whether he was okay or not, called him back into the conversation when he zoned out, tried to confront him on multiple occasions with no success whatsoever.

He had also stopped him once, tugging at his sleeve before he could get away. Virgil was used to do that, always too timid to speak up first.

Deceit turned to face him, who calmly stared back at him, trying his best to mask his suspicion.

« What's wrong? » Virgil's voice was so low it struggled to come out.

Deceit shrugged. « I don't know. Everything's okay. » as much as lying was his thing, he had refrained from doing it during a serious conversation before.

« I'm not so sure about that. » Anxiety's gaze fell to the floor.

« You think there's something wrong? »

« I guess, I mean- you … » he gesticulated, unable to express himself.

« So it's me. » who would've thought.

« I don't know! » Virgil's tone got louder with exasperation. « You're just so off lately. »

« Care to elaborate? » Deceit squinted his eyes, sounding neutral as ever, which never let Virgil understand whether he was stepping in the right or wrong direction.

« You don't tell me what's on your mind anymore. » there it was. « You avoid any conversation about your feelings or issues, just like you were doing right now. » Virgil's mouth scrunched. « It's like you don't trust me. Like everything changed at once and … I don't know. » he was wearing the necklace that day. Deceit found it hypocritical. « Did I do something wrong? »

« No. »

« Then what is it? » he urged, he couldn't just roam in the oblivion much longer.

« It's nothing, like I told you. » Deceit's own voice got higher, but kept up the act. There was no way he was going to let him know.

Virgil brushed his hands on his face, defeated. « Do you just want me to leave you alone? » he finally asked, eyes slightly wider.

« Yes! »

Silence. Silence because Deceit thought he could have stopped himself when he didn't. When he should have.

And he was going to regret it.

« Okay. » Virgil murmured and stood up from his seat. « Alright. » he left the room without sparing a single glance for him.

Deceit blinked multiple times and reached for his pendant, which was now digging in his palm. There was a slight shot of pain while he reminded himself that it was just a bad day and Virgil was going to forget and those tears pooling in his eyes weren't necessary and he could have let his emotions go numb so he couldn't suffer.

He let go of the pendant, breathed out deeply and everything was fine.

Everything was fine.

✾

Remus had been helpful. Truly helpful, if only Deceit wasn't so stubborn.

He tried to get help, get suggestions and then never acted on them. Which then became his point to never ask for opinions: why would you let others down with your inaction when you could just … bottle it up and never bring it up again?

Deceit was going to learn why it was wrong the hard way.

Remus had suggested to talk to Virgil, let him know of all his paranoid thoughts, and he was kind of convinced.

But when the air felt too cold and constricting around them whenever they were together, it was simply impossible.

And it was also too late.

There was a door they never opened, one that led to the light sides' part of the mindscape.

That day, Virgil opened it and he wasn't wearing his usual clothes, nor the necklace.

Remus and Deceit stared at him, one in silent disbelief, the other was … too indescribable.

« Are you going to leave? » said like a mother to a son on a Saturday night, but with a completely different meaning.

Virgil stared back at Deceit with a dull expression, the same neutral glare that had glanced back at him until then. « I don't think you should wear that necklace anymore. »

He closed the door behind himself and left the sore aura to dawn on the remaining sides.

« Dee? »

Deceit was staring ahead of himself.

There, he had ruined everything. Not only he had just lost Virgil, but also disappointed Remus for not following his suggestions.

« Deceit? »

He was going to be mad, he was going to fight with him and then leave too.

You wanted to be left alone, didn't you?

« Hoi. » Deceit looked up at him and realized he was pushing the pendant into his skin again.

With a swift movement, he pulled the necklace to the side and broke the chain free from his neck, then threw it and let it fall onto the other side of the couch.

Deceit got up and marched to his room.

Remus picked up the necklace, a sour look still painting his face with bitterness; he started to fix the chain and ultimately sighed.

« When are you going to give a proper reaction? »

He left the necklace by his room and then headed to the imagination.

There was a lot of stuff he needed to vent.

✾

Not many days had passed. However, they were all the same and neither had gotten used to it.

Deceit was at the kitchen counter, like every other morning, and Remus was trying to get his attention, like in every other interaction they had.

« You're not wearing your necklace? »

« No. » Deceit's moves were almost mechanical, his voice low, half-lidded eyes careless of where they set upon.

« Lies. » Remus reached out and gently pulled the chain out from under Deceit's clothes. « You're also internalizing everything. »

« I'm not. »

« Lies, yet again. » he got up from his seat and faced him, forcing Deceit to focus on him. He put his hands on Deceit's shoulders. « Are you okay, D? »

« Of course. » he heard his voice crack, maybe those were tears in his eyes and for only an instant Remus hoped he could make him open up.

« You don't only speak in lies, huh? »

Remus pulled him in a hug that could have only grown tighter. Deceit felt his entire body shake before he returned it and sank into the embrace, gripping at his back like a lifesaver.

He hiccuped, then sobbed and cried out any and all negative emotions that were poisoning his insides.

Deceit buried his head in the other's clothes so to not see his own reality and be aware of his current condition.

What was really good of Remus, was that he really didn't care much about certain trivial things. He didn't care when his clothes got wet with tears, he didn't care if Deceit spoke through hiccups, if he was barely able to stand on his feet.

« It just … » Remus had led him to sit on the couch with a cup of tea in his hands. « It feels like he left something here. »

« What do you mean? »

Deceit showed a sad smile. « I've kept driving myself anxious because of all the paranoid thoughts that never leave my mind. » he explained, staring at the white swirls in his tea. « It just feels like he's around. »

« Like when he couldn't control his powers when he first came here. » Remus chuckled.

« Yeah, and Orange started being afraid of everything. » a genuine smile spread on Deceit's lips.

Dark Creativity snorted. « He was scared of his own shade! » he couldn't help but burst out in a boisterous laughter, infecting his friend.

Which then led to tears. « Holy fuck. » Remus's own smile faltered and he wiped away the tears, though more came, and he found himself crying, too.

Deceit extended an arm out to him, inviting him to sit next to him.

They were silent for a while, letting the realization sink in.

« Will Orange leave his room anytime soon? »

« I don't know. »

« Should we check on him? »

« Yeah, let's. »

« And also, » Remus's expression returned serious altogether as he got up. « I think we should start showing up to Thomas. »

✾

Joy, joy and satisfactory bliss he almost couldn't believe he had reached.

Deceit was looking at five smiling faces and they were staring back at him with no bad intent, with no subtext of conflict.

It wasn't a dream, it wasn't an act and it wasn't a lie. This time, he had done it.

Thomas had finally accepted him as a true necessary part of himself and he had managed to resolve his issues with the other sides.

He still almost couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe how those happy and proud gazes were all directed to him, and yet he could have bathed in the sunshine happiness radiating from each of them.

« Lying can be good. » Thomas asserted, nodding and still smiling, his look soft and welcoming, his hands clasped together in an unordinary position. « I know you're looking out for me now. Thank you. »

Deceit breathed out, enjoying this new state of comfort he was going to adapt to. He didn't know what to say anymore, he didn't even realize he could have gotten that far.

But it was okay, because when he intercepted Virgil's eyes, he noticed he wanted to talk to him.

Virgil opened his mouth only to close it again and squint his eyes at the ground. Okay, he thought, I can do this.

He reached for something under his shirt and pulled out the necklace Deceit had gifted him that one night when he had needed him most. And he was there for him.

Just as much as Virgil was now there for him to support the new perspective they had of him.

Deceit's hand ghosted over his own necklace, at which he started tugging afterwards. « You're wearing it? » he looked in the exact amount of disbelief as the others, only that the others' leaned to confusion, while his own was a firework of contentment.

Virgil smiled wider. « I never stopped. »

And then, seeing Deceit's expression growing more incredulous, he added, echoing the other's own old words. « There will never be a reason for me to do that. »

This time, the one to be convinced, despite the tears in his eyes, was Deceit.

#purp's writings #deceit sanders #ts deceit #sanders sides deceit #remus sanders #ts remus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #character thomas #sanders sides #fanfiction #ts fanfic #deceit's birthday #angst #read the warnings

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fy-enhypen · 3 years

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“I want to show everyone I can keep growing” - NI-KI

NI-KI was rushing around but showed no signs of tiring out. He found the basketball hoop and kept taking shots until he made a basket and, whenever he could find the time, practiced his moves for the cover dance video. Until he achieved what he was going for. Your Korean has gotten a lot better.

NI-KI: I guess it’s because when I was a trainee I learned a lot from watching reality shows and audition shows like I-LAND, and the other members also taught me a bunch. We discuss a lot before filming anything. If there’s some grammar or words I don’t know, I go right to JAY, since he’s good at Japanese. I don’t have a hard time in everyday life, but sometimes I get help from others while filming when there’s something I’m not sure about.

I guess you must have had many opportunities to take in not only the language but also the culture.

NI-KI: The food culture is very different; I can’t really eat spicy food. I like boiled mandu with meat inside so I’ve eaten a lot of those. (laughs) I think I learned a lot about Korean history and traditional culture when I went to Gyeongbokgung Palace.

The modern hanbok Jung Kook from BTS gifted you is also symbolic of Korea’s heritage.

NI-KI: Yes, you’re right. I thought it was cool when I first got it because I was also learning another part of the culture, plus I was happy to receive a gift from him. I still wear it every day. (laughs) My teammates save their gifts for special occasions, but now I wear mine way more than any clothes I’ve ever worn. It feels like I get good energy from it.

Was there a reason you came here after performing as a kid dancer in Japan?

NI-KI: I saw some idols including SHINEE for the first time at the Tokyo Dome when I was in grade school—not only dancing, but performing while singing, and that really stuck in my mind. After that, I was determined to become an artist like them and be the one on that stage someday. So now, here I am, in Korea. Actually, the dance moves I learned when I first came to Korea were totally different from what I was used to doing. The singing was, too, so I felt I wasn’t good enough so I practiced every single day. Any time I learned a new move while I was a trainee, I made sure to practice it until it was perfect before the next class.

You had a bit of a crisis while practicing for your debut: You were sent to the GROUND on I-LAND. When you became the dance representative and lost, you held back your tears even as the others were crying, until the producers came to cheer you up, and then you finally burst into tears.

NI-KI: I felt terrible for losing, but I didn’t want my teammates to see me cry, so I held it in. But when the producers suddenly showed up … I was thinking how there were so many things that didn’t turn out well since starting I-LAND and had no idea what to do, but then the producers said we did a good job and suddenly I started crying too.

NI-KI: Up until that point, even though I wasn’t sure if I could debut, I just wanted to make sure I had no regrets, so I tried my best to show everyone who supported me how much I had grown. In the end, when all seven of us put our arms around each other’s shoulders, I thought, “Wow, we’re really debuting!” Looking back now, I think it was fate for us to be together. I’m happy to have been able to debut with them.

What’s it like to live with six older team members?

NI-KI: We take care of each other when we’re having a hard time or feeling sad. Our sense of teamwork is getting better every day, too. The others are still really considerate towards me, especially JAY, who I could easily communicate with by speaking Japanese. Now we use Korean except for when we’re joking around.

During the debut show, you said you feel closest to JUNGWON.

NI-KI: I think it’s easiest to talk with him because we’re the closest in age. They all take a joke well—I love to joke around—but JUNGWON is especially good about my pranks.

But you share a room with someone else. (laughs)

NI-KI: SUNOO and I sleep in the same room. There wasn’t much of a chance to be close with JUNGWON during I-LAND, and SUNOO and I shared a room back then, too, so I got used to sleeping with him.

The other members often brag on TV or social media about you, the youngest member. How do you feel when you hear them complimenting you like that?

NI-KI: It’s a little bit embarrassing. (laughs) I still have a long way to go, so I feel kind of self-conscious when they talk me up that much. But still, I like it when they say I dance well. Sometimes I feel like, “I nailed it this time,” and it feels good when I hear them say it, too.

You feel embarrassed when you receive compliments, but you give them out to the other members often. In the “Given-Taken” reaction video, you clap and tell them again and again how great they look.

NI-KI: I love to compliment my teammates. I’ll usually just say whatever’s on my mind. The music video really was that cool, and also touching. It was physically draining, filming for three days, but the video turned out so amazing that I felt like I became a fan, too, after seeing it.

While watching the video together, the other members saw your scenes and said it was all freestyle and that it was mind-blowing to see on the day. What did you aim to express?

NI-KI: I wanted to make a strong impression with my dancing in all the scenes, so I talked it over with the performance director and danced freestyle to make it look natural. I added a dark atmosphere to the “Dusk-Dawn” trailer by intentionally twisting my back like a zombie. I wanted to make a completely new character for the music video for the lead single. I was reminded of a movie I saw before, but I wanted to show people something that was my own.

In “Given-Taken,” you break free from the chain around your feet and float in midair, singing the lyrics, “Between giving and taking / It’s time for my proving.” What did these lyrics mean to you?

NI-KI: I’m still having a hard time with that. (laughs) Hmm … I imagined myself struggling between what I was given and what I had taken. The “given” part makes me think of everyone who supported me and my debut, and also maybe my talent and luck. And I have “taken” the debut by running towards my goal. When I was on I-LAND I worried whether I would be able to debut or not, but these days I worry whether I can do a good job as a member of ENHYPEN.

So you’re still worrying, even after your debut.

NI-KI: I was especially nervous and prepared a lot for the debut show since it was our first ever performance. I couldn’t actually meet the fans because of COVID-19, but I was really happy we could at least see their faces. I wanted to really thank everyone who watched our performance. When we went back home after the show, JUNGWON and I talked about how, “Even though we had some hard times leading up to our debut, it was touching to meet our fans through that surprise video.” And then fell asleep at around four in the morning. That’s the time I usually go to bed, and I always read the letters I got when I was on I-LAND before I fall asleep, even though I’m tired. They always give me strength.

Did looking at the fan reactions to your debut also give you strength?

NI-KI: It felt good when I read one comment saying it exceeded their expectations. There were some negative reactions, too, but I try to see those comments in a positive light. It makes me think how I can practice hard and put on an even better performance next time.

The fans also give you cute nicknames. Which one is your favorite?

NI-KI: Boongeoppang. If they draw a picture of NI-KI, I hope that a picture of a little fish shaped pastry is included too. (laughs) For me, it’s all about the red bean boongeoppang. The other flavors are good, too, but I like the simplicity of the red bean kind. I eat them head first. I like Puma, too. Some fans posted pictures of me, comparing when I started I-LAND and when we finished, and said I look like a puma.

That explains why you use the leopard emoji every time you post on the Internet. It looks like a puma.

NI-KI: I communicate online a lot since it’s impossible to meet people face to face right now. I’ll do my best to repay all the people who have supported me until now. I’ll keep that in mind when we perform. And I hope ENGENE and ENHYPEN can finally meet as one. I think it’ll be more fun to perform for them after not being able to meet them for so long. I imagine our fun future performances whenever we practice. When we get a chance to see them in person, the very first thing I want to do is thank them.

What does this future performance you see when you practice look like?

NI-KI: I remember how incredibly beautiful the lights in the audience looked from the stage, when I found my dream. I want the light from everyone’s light sticks to shine on me like they did then. And I think it’ll give me a boost when I hear all of them cheering. I want to put on a wonderful show for our fans—a performance that we can all enjoy together, where we can communicate with the fans, like if we ride around the whole arena giving out gifts like autographed balls or something.

You’ve said many times, “Dance is everything to me.” What exactly does dancing mean to you?

NI-KI: When I was three years old, my dad showed me a concert video. I remember how after that I would watch that video alone for, like, five hours every day, just practicing. That’s how much I liked dancing, and I want to keep dancing forever. I think that’s the most important feeling in my life.

What do you like most, other than dancing?

NI-KI: Microphones. Headset microphones. Even before I dreamed of becoming an idol, I saw performers wearing those headsets and thought that I wanted to wear one someday. I imagined myself with my own microphone and in-ear monitors, so now they’re very valuable things to me.

And your childhood dreams came true. Now, imagining further into the future, what kind of artist do you want to be remembered as?

NI-KI: An artist who gives a lot of people good energy, happiness, and can move them. I want to leave people with a lingering impression. My hope is that I can keep growing in every way.

#201226 #enhypen #niki #t: weverse #t: interview

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theladyofdeath · 5 years

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V O I D { N I N E }

Chapter 8. An ACOTAR fanfiction.

Nessian. Elriel. Feysand.

Previous chapters: Fanfic Masterlist

“You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all.” ― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Princess

Nesta was pounding against his door. Any onlookers probably thought she was angry, but anger was one of the only emotions she wasn’t feeling. Unless it was anger at herself.

She pounded against the thick slab of wood once more.

It opened.

Hale stood in the doorway, eyes wide as he beheld her and the arm she was cradling.

“I’m sorry,” Nesta said, quiet and in a rush. “I didn’t know who else to talk to, and if you’re busy, I don’t want to be a burden-”

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside. “Please.”

Nesta did just that. Hale hadn’t exaggerated when he’d talked about how big his house was. It was truly a mansion - his wife’s dream home, he had once told Nesta. And it was lovely.

A grand, spiral staircase traveled up each side of the main room, the white floors completely spotless. Nesta was afraid to move, was afraid to touch anything.

Hale walked along the Persian rug into the next room, Nesta not far behind. She looked at everything as she passed, although there wasn’t much to see in the foyer. Just a line of paintings and a small statue of a man reading a book.

They entered a library and Nesta was in awe. Books lined each wall, some older than them both, some new. Nesta took a seat in a small, black leather loveseat as Hale perched himself in an armchair across from her.

“Want to talk about it?”

She wasn’t sure. She had never been good at talking about her emotions, especially not within the last few years. But when she looked up at Hale, she saw someone who actually cared, who understood.

“I panicked.”

Hale nodded. “About?”

Nesta blew out a breath through her nose. “Life. Everything. All of it. I’m afraid of myself. Afraid of what I can do to myself.”

Hale’s eyes shot to her arm, the arm in which she still held close to her chest. “Are you injured?”

Did you injure yourself? She could hear his silent question.

Nesta shook her head. No, not this time.

“Afraid you’ll find yourself back up at the top of the parking garage?” Hale asked, thoughtfully.

Nesta nodded, eyes weary, shoulders hunched.

“You said you went to a support group last week?” Hale asked, a moment later. After Nesta nodded, he asked, “Did you like it?”

Nesta chuckled, humorlessly. “No. It felt like everyone was tiptoeing around one another. I felt… I don’t know. Like a child.”

Hale smiled, softly. “I used to go to a support group and thought the exact same thing. I wasn’t made of glass, but they acted like I was.”

Nesta sighed. “Exactly.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Hale asked, “Do you still want help, my dear?”

Nesta nibbled on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I hate feeling the way I feel, but some days I don’t want help. Some days I feel like I deserve everything I feel.”

“And what is it that you feel?”

Stupid.

Idiot.

Pathetic.

No personality.

Worthless.

“Lost,” she admitted. “Alone. Empty.”

Hale nodded, eyes never leaving Nesta.

“I don’t remember feeling any other way,” Nesta went on, eyes watching her still hands resting on her lap. “I’ve felt this way for so long that I don’t remember how I was before.”

“Some of us feel much more than others do,” Hale said, voice low in the quiet. “And eventually we feel so much that our minds can’t handle anymore, so we feel nothing at all. Then when we feel nothing at all, it’s hard to get back to how we were before. Hard, but not impossible. Never impossible.”

“You made it back,” Nesta said, simply, finally meeting Hale’s gaze. “How?”

Hale took a moment before rising to his feet and searching through the bookshelves, gentle, wrinkled fingers grazing over the bindings. “These shelves are filled with my favorite protagonists. Each one of them faced hell and still survived, thrived. They hit rock bottom, but they overcame it. We live with mental illnesses, and some days will always be harder than others…but, when I was in my darkest, I realized that my story was still being written. I was the protagonist of my own story, and my story was not ending there. So, I kept going. And it was really hard, but I kept telling myself it would get better and then…” he shrugged, turning to face Nesta with a smile. “It did. Slowly, and not smoothly at all, but it did get better.”

Nesta had wanted it to get better for so long, but it almost seemed impossible. She had lived in hell for so long that better seemed impossible to reach.

“How do I get there?” She asked, eyes lined with silver.

“You just keep going,” he said, simply.

But although it sounded simple, they both knew it wasn’t simple at all.

“You are more than welcome to stay here tonight,” Hale said. “You’d have an entire hallway to yourself. Stay here as long as you wish. Sometimes getting away, into a new scene...it helps.”

“I don’t want to intrude-”

“I’ve been alone in this house for ten years, my child. You would not be an intrusion, but a blessing.”

Nesta nodded. A change in scenery didn’t sound all that bad.

~~~~

“Your move.”

Feyre was sitting with Rhysand, chess being played on the kitchen table between them in Cassian and Azriel’s apartment.

“Alright,” Feyre sighed, taking another sip of her orange juice. She moved her pawn, the only piece she was able to move without getting knocked off the board. “Your move.”

He chuckled, falling back against the wooden chair. “As exciting as this is, I’m done playing chess. This is our third game and I’m about to lose my mind.”

“Well, what else do you have in mind?” Feyre asked.

Rhysand grinned mischievously, but Feyre cut him off short. “No. You need to rest.”

“I can kiss-”

“Rest!”

Rhysand groaned. “Fine, but you have to rest with me.”

With a small smile, Feyre helped Rhysand to his feet. His head had been injured the most during the crash, his broken arm was also in bad shape. But, at least his legs were okay. With an arm through his, Feyre led him to the couch where Rhysand plopped down. During the last week, Feyre had been at Rhysand’s side every day since they shared their first kiss. Now, the thought of leaving him alone seemed foreign.

He plopped down on the couch before motioning her to come closer. She did as he asked, pressing her lips to his forehead as she laid next to him.

His strong arm wrapped around her waist. It had been a week of kissing and cuddling, of Feyre taking care of Rhysand. Every time things got hot and heavy, though, Feyre would quickly back off. She didn’t need him breaking something else because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

But being in his arms? That was paradise in itself. She felt safe, comfortable, happy.

“I’m gonna have to take you out on a proper date soon.”

“Is that so?” Feyre whispered, huffing a laugh.

“Believe it or not, I’m pretty romantic,” he said into her ear before pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

“You’re a bit of a kiss-ass,” Feyre mumbled, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Did I just hear you say that you like my ass?” Rhysand crooned.

“Rest,” Feyre laughed. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Girlfriend’s orders?”

Feyre only hesitated for a second. “Is that you asking me to be your girlfriend? It’s the meds talking, isn’t it?”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “I’d be honored if you were my girlfriend, Feyre, darling.”

Feyre smiled, back still turned to him. “I’ll give you my answer after you rest.”

Rhysand quickly shut his eyes, his arm tightening around her waist. “I’ll wait.”

~~~~

Cassian stared at the sheet of paper lying on his bed.

Feyre and Rhysand had been hanging out in the living room, so Cassian shut himself in his room and did some research. Now that both his mother and father had passed, he needed to know if he had any other family out there. Cece was only sixteen. She deserved someone, so Cassian took it upon himself to find whoever was out there.

And he’d found someone, one other person on the outskirts of Velaris that shared their last name and looked an awful lot like their father.

His address was written on the back of a receipt.

Cassian had been staring at it for nearly half an hour, wondering if he actually wanted to go through with it. If this man was related to them, how come he had never come around before?

It was worth a try.

If not for himself, then for Cecily.

Cassian quickly pushed himself off his bed before he could change his mind.

Fifteen minutes later, after quietly sneaking past a sleeping Feyre and Rhysand, Cassian was sitting at the bus stop. He still couldn’t drive himself, both because of his injuries and the fact that the last time he was behind the wheel it didn’t turn out well.

So, he waited for the bus and once it arrived, he rode it halfway around the city before they came to his stop. He was dropped off along the Sidra where he hobbled with his crutches down the street until he found a taxi.

“Where to?” the driver asked once Cassian plopped into the backseat.

Cassian handed him his old receipt.

The driver lifted a dark brow in the rearview mirror. “Buckle up.”

Cassian did as he was told and the driver took off. He drove Cassian another five minutes down the road before letting him off on the curb outside of a large, gated mansion.

Cassian approached the gate, a bag slung over his shoulder as he hobbled with his crutches.

When he got to the black, iron gate, he looked around. There was no one inside. You would think that with a house so large that there would be people around, tending to the grounds. But Cassian saw no one.

He simply pressed the button on a speaker box and waited.

Without a word, the gates opened, and Cassian went inside. The path to the front door was agonizingly long. By the time he reached the set of double oak doors, Cassian was exhausted. Nonetheless, he knocked. Waited. And knocked again.

Maybe no one was home.

Maybe someone was home and didn’t want to see him.

Maybe he was wasting his time.

Just as Cassian took a step back to leave, the doors opened.

An elderly man stood in the doorway. The moment he saw Cassian, his face paled.

Cassian cleared his throat, hardly able to control his nerves. “Hello. I’m Cassian. Are you Hale Nazari?”

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tarithenurse · 5 years

Text

On my mind, in my soul - 8

Prompt: “I'm so Sorry” by Imagine Dragons, Avengers Tower, a bottle of whisky. All of it suggested by a lovely Anon, so I can’t credit directly. Used lyric passages are in block quotes, as usual. Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Angsting with angst, illness, drinking (though not excessively), pining, nightmare-like scenario, near death, more angst (because why not), worrying, probably swearing. A/N: Wow....I’m getting much more writing done lately than expected! Feel free to comment and especially reblog! It’s always nice to know what people think. AND due to later shenanigans, I’ve had to reconsider the AU-ness of this, meaning that Ragnarok isn’t canon here (at least not yet). PS Proof reading? What’s that?

Fixing

Opening your eyes is a struggle in its own made no lesser by the glaring lights shining down on you. Light shouldn’t hurt but this does and it’s worse than during the worst hangover…and still it’s not what makes you want to return to the soothing of the darkness that’s already reaching out for you, silencing the distant roar of voices and shrill beeps.

… Loki’s PoV …

All around him, people are either working frantically to save this woman they don’t even know (just because he has asked them to) or yelling at him for an explanation. For once, Loki recognizes a fraction of their frustration although he brushes it aside it much the same way he clears the view from the wall he’s leaning against to the bed on the other side of the glass wall.

Green eyes flicker between the frowning faces and tightly pressed lips of the doctors and nurses. Although he knows they are doing all they can, their hands moving rapidly without missing a beat, Loki finds it near impossible to approve of their efforts. Midgardian medicine’s archaic, he sneers inwardly as he sends the cold into the wall behind him instead. Archaic or not, any disruption might ruin their effort all together.

“Lokiii!” Thor’s voice breaches the annoying buzz from anyone else. “What’s the meaning of this, brother?”

Heavy hands force the God of Mischief to look away from the prone figure, finding the electric crackle he knows so well from the older brother’s spats of anger. Having grown up together, Loki supposes it makes sense that the default assumption would be that he’s somehow at fault for whatever tragedy has befallen anyone – often that would have been the case.

“I tried to prevent it,” he answers coldly, once more attempting to clear the view only to find that Thor’s a lot harder to brush aside than the flimsy Midgardians. “Move, brother.”

The hesitation’s brief, spawned from confusion rather than anger, before Thor steps aside and Loki fails in retaining a relieved sigh when the woman’s in sight again. The convulsions have ceased, and it’s a relief to see that the breathing is less laboured even if it’s only because of the tube that’s been shoved down the trachea. Stabilized, that’s the term they’re using beyond the thin barrier, so why does this strange feeling keep gnawing at him? This sense of restlessness. Of guilt and…and worry?

People begin to leave the room, some wiping their foreheads and removing what looks like lab coats, others rushing to nearby rooms with the last samples of whatever has poisoned [Y/N].

“Loki…” Thor nudges the pale man, shifting the attention to a small doctor before them.

Doctor Cho fidgets with the hem of the light blue shirt she has been wearing under the surgical outfit. Not wanting to meet the demanding, green eyes, she looks to Thor instead. “We’ve managed to stop the poison from doing any more damage,” she announces slightly shrill despite the muted whisper, “but we still don’t know what it is and unti–“

“– until you do, there’s nothing that can be done,” Loki finishes the sentence.

About time for anyone telling you off for all your deeds No sign the roaring thunder stopped in cold to read No time Get mine and make no excuses waste of precious breath

… Reader’s PoV …

You know it’s a dream because of how slowly you seem to be moving, but it doesn’t matter because as long as you’re not waking up, this is what you’ve got to deal with. It’s hard to find some sense to it all, though. Caught in an endless labyrinth created of distorted artefacts, you just know that you have to move forward.

Feet heavy, the ground soft and sticky beneath you as it actively tries to hold you back, making each step physically straining until your legs and lungs are burning from sheer exertion. Whenever you pause, sticky tendrils rise to grab hold and drag you further down.

Once, you fall, nearly swallowing a mouthful of the living floor while you struggle to break free and clamber on forward. Your hand automatically reaches for the emptiness around your neck only to remind you that whatever should be there is missing. That’s why you have to keep going. Have to find the cold.

… Loki’s PoV …

They’ve left him alone by the bedside, deeming is safe enough to let the God of Mischief that close (at least after Thor had given his word that it would be fine). Sitting in the room with dimmed lights, Loki ignores anything going on outside that space, his watchful eyes never leaving the shape resting under soft covers. Sometimes [Y/N]’s brows crease, urging the man to lean forward, elbows on knees and chin on clasped fists. Loki can go for much longer without sleep than a normal human can.

A son of a stepfather A son of a I'm so sorry

By the end of the next day, a day that has come and gone without any answers and as such without a cure, Tony Stark enters the infirmary to find Loki standing very close to the bed. Pale fingers laced with nearly lifeless, a thumb absentmindedly caressing refined knuckles.

“So…” Tony begins awkwardly, “thought it was time for that drink.”

Over the years, as the former aggressor has had to clear his name and redeem himself in the eyes of the Avengers and the governing organisations of Midgard, Loki has acquired an odd relationship to the inventor and philanthropist. It’s not quite a friendship, more of a mutual respect from recognizing more than the extravagant mess-maker the world sees.

Now, looking up from the still woman, he finds Tony with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses in his hand, and a crooked smile on the face that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. A nod is all it takes. Quietly lifting a chair over, the man settles down and pours two hefty measures. I’ll return to your side soon, Loki promises wordlessly.

The quiet smacking of lips sounds the approval of the drink and mixes with the faint whirr from medical instruments. A precursor to the words that have yet to be said.

“Who’s she?” There’s no judgement in Tony’s voice at least.

Yes, who is she? Few words would fully do the woman justice nor be capable of explaining who she is to Loki or in her own right. In truth, the only reason he’s had to still be involved in [Y/N]’s life is his guilt and his…my what? Love? No. Love’s reserved for those deserving.

“She’s…someone I’m indebted to.” Dark amber swirls in the glass once. Twice. Thrice. Then it’s drained, burning pleasantly in the throat. “No news on the poison?”

“Sorry.”

Stark has many ways of apologizing, each retaining it’s own level of sincerity or scathing sarcasm depending on the recipient or the occasion. This sorry is genuine although the man isn’t to blame. Afterall, he and those affiliated with him have done all they can to save [Y/N], and it’s not their fault the Midgardian knowledge isn’t enough to –

Sensing the stillness, Stark waves a hand in front of Loki’s face. “Hey…what’s up?”

“Soul Forge…” the god manages to breathe.

“Soul…that sounds ominous.”

Loki can feel hope returning to him, can feel the renewed power running through his body. “A Soul Forge is a…how can I phrase this simply enough for you to understand? It’s a medical device used for diagnosing and treating many illnesses and condition in Asgard. It could cure [Y/N] or at least help us get closer.”

A weak sputtering can be heard from Stark, but the Asgardian’s on his feet by the hospital bed. “Sorry to break it to you, Reindeer Games, but your old man’s made it clear that you’re to stay here.”

“I know. But…I must try.”

Life isn't always what you think it'd be Turn your head for one second and the tables turn

… Reader’s PoV …

Every path you take looks the same in a world where nothing moves the air and the shadows stretch unnaturally. Still, you know you’re getting closer, somehow, because the grabby ground is receding, chased away by slippery patches of ice that glitter darkly with the threat of sending you falling though into a cold nothingness should you slip and fall hard enough.

Logic screams at you to stop, that it’s just a dream and you don’t have to try so hard…but it’s not only in your head. Not completely. Reaching a new patch of ice, you slow down in an attempt to prevent the slippery surface from breaking beneath you. Out of reach, thin tendrils of living stickiness are reaching for you only recoiling slightly at the angry glare you shoot them.

Don’t you dare, you yell voicelessly at them, I’ll get there, just wait and see! And you power on, chest burning and heart threatening to give up before you reach your goal.

… Loki’s PoV …

The idea of leaving [Y/N] behind is nearly enough to break Loki’s resolve if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s for her that he’ll attempt to reconcile with his father. Stepfather. And if that’s not a hurdle monumental enough, Odin’s still known for his lack of interest in the Midgardians despite the realm being favoured by Thor.

“It’s time,” the older brother’s hand lies heavy on Loki’s shoulder.

They both know the risk Loki’s facing and although it may be for different reasons, they pray to the ancestors that the Trickster will be allowed to return from Asgard. One last look at the poison-marred face, a last caress across the knuckles, then Loki turns to leave.

And I know, I know that I did you wrong But will you trust me when I say that I'll Make it up to you somehow, somehow

#loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #loki marvel #Loki angst #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #Loki Laufeyson x reader #Loki odinson x reader #loki pining #On my Mind in my Soul #loki series #loki burglar #Loki pride #loki apologize #thor #tony stark #odin

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pi-cat000 · 6 years

Text

MSA time travel idea (part 2)

Summary: Arthur falls off a cliff and lands in the past. Hellbent spoilers.

Part 1: here

Part 3: here

Arthur slipped into the garage, inhaling the lingering smell of oil and petrol. It's strangely comforting. Lance is standing with his back to him. He’s motioning to his assistant Darrel, leaning over an open car engine and pointing at something of interest. Around them, spare parts and various tools are hung in their places along the walls and stacked neatly on selves. The mundane sight is a balm to his completely shot nerves.

“Arthur,” his Uncle greets jovially, eyes still fixed on the car, “There you are. Get over here and take a look at this beast,”

Arthur automatically takes a step and hesitates. He’s is in his pyjamas, a lose faded t-shirt and shorts, and completely barefoot. Definitely, not workshop approved attire.

Lance steps back off the low foot-bench, used to reach into the tricker parts of car engines, glancing back, “Poor bastards broke down a few miles up. New-fangled electric hybrid engine so I’ll get ya to take a look at it before anythin.”

Their eyes meet and he trails off, giving Arthur a once over. Lance immediately frowns and Arthur can practically hear the lecture on workshop health and safety forming in his Uncle’s head.

He quickly steps back into the doorway and blurts, “Sorry, um, could I borrow your phone for a second?”

Lance crossed his arms unimpressed, “Ya know that crap about shoes in the workshop is there for a reason, right.”

“Sorry, Sorry,” Arthur rubs the back of his head with his left hand. It’s nice to be able to do so without getting the strands caught in metal panels, “I, uh, forgot….”

“Hey Arthur, catch,” Darrel, thankfully, interrupts his muddled excuse, tossing his phone from across the room. Arthur spends a good few seconds fumbling the item, trying to adjust to his heightened levels of coordination. Mercifully, he doesn’t drop it. He shoots Darrel an appreciative glance.

“The password’s 1234,” Darrel grins and Lance gives them both an unimpressed stare.

“Thanks, Darrel. I’ll just go and…uh…get dressed?”

He starts to turn and beat a retreat. This is obviously not the time for attempting conversation, his was mind fumbling for sentences worse than usual. He hesitated mid turn because finding another phone had not been his objective when coming down here.

“Could you tell me the date real quick?” He asked, forcing himself not to fidget. Lance is now looking more concerned than annoyed, squinting at Arthur like he’s trying figure something out. His Uncle is blunt and to the point, hiding his inherently perceptive nature under a layer of grumpiness. He probably knows somethings up. Hopefully, it would be attributed to a poor nights sleep.

“It’s the 4th”

“and the year?”

Now Darrel is also looking confused, “2014?”

“Right. Thanks,” Arthur spins on his heel marching away, avoiding any incoming ‘are you okays’ and ‘Is something wrongs.’ It’s not the smoothest of exits but he honestly wasn’t feeling up for any more conversation. Not when his mind is buzzing with impossibilities.

Arthur walks straight back to his room. The old lock on his door is back and he fixates on it briefly before pushing inside. His room is warming, morning light still spilling through the window. It catches on the peach-coloured wallpaper, giving everything an orange glow. It’s comforting and Arthur seats himself at a surprisingly sparse desk. There’s a small stack of notes filled with calculations and he puts Darrel’s phone down on top of them after quickly checking the date. Then he turns on his computer and checks there as well. It’s all the same. 2014. He glanced around for Galahad who was nowhere to be seen. Neither is his cage or tricked-out running wheel. But that makes sense. He had bought Galahad a year ago, meaning it would be a year until he saw the hamster again. Confusing and disappointing. He could really use a Galahad right about now.

So… date confirmed. 2014. He doesn’t know what it means and part of him still wants to grab his keys, drive into town, and question more people. The how’s, what’s and why’s circle around his head, leaving him at a loss.

Was he suffering a mental break? Was this the afterlife? One minute he’s falling and Lewis is…Lewis is… and the next minute he’s in bed and all the evidence is pointing to it being two years earlier. Only, that’s impossible, because time travel is impossible. Just like ghosts were supposed to be impossible. Arthur frowns, massaging his head. He had learnt that lesson the hard way. Answers, as par for the course, elude him.

Reluctantly, he dredges up recollections of The Cave. In his mind, it’s a muddled mess of twisted horror and agony. For the last two years, it had been a clouded nightmare, drawing him down into sharp teeth and pain. He was loathe to revisit it, especially now, when his mental facilities and energy were a few moments away from a complete meltdown. Arthur poked at the memories anyway, trying fruitlessly to dig up answers. He remembered entering the cave, walking down into the dark. Lewis’ form up ahead, torch in hand.

Something sliding into this mind, ripping him open. He was trapped in shadow. There was no way out. Ahead of him, Lewis walked, touch light dimming. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Nope. None of that. Arthur refocused, chocking off the worst of it. A few seconds of breathing exorcizes and re-centring later and he tried again. He remembered entering the cave. Losing sight of Lewis. Mystery. Losing his arm. Vivi’s panicked face before passing out. Then he had awoken in a hospital to lots of questions and no answers. Everything useful twist away, out of reach, taunting him. Police investigations had turned up nothing. Lewis was just gone. Not even a body left behind. The only one who probably had any clue was Mystery but the dog fluctuated between cagy to annoyingly vague on the details. Arthur had never pressed for more. Maybe he should have. If Lewis had died that night and Mystery had known. Had known all along. Then Mystery had watched as he and Vivi drove from one side of the country to the other, searching fruitlessly. No… Mystery had watched Arthur searching. Vivi had just been along for the ride, humouring his chase, all memories of Lewis gone.

Unsteadily, he ran both hands through his hair, pulling lightly at the strands and taking solace in the sensation. If that ghost was Lewis. Then Lewis had died. He had probably died in The Cave, making Lewis the purple ghost who had tried to…in the same cave…had succeeded…in…killing…

His left-hand sparks, sending small shocks through his shoulder. It's beyond trashed but the sensation gives him enough awareness to move it up in a jerky action. In his desperation, he manages to hopelessly cling to the ghost’s arm.

Arthur rests his forehead down against his desk, curling up around his restored arm. Phantom pains run up and down its length. He’s breathing heavily again, gasping for air.

Suddenly it's Lewis. Lewis is there but his face is twisted and hateful.

It takes a lot more than a few seconds but eventually he succeeds in pushing the memories and fear away, finding an equilibrium again.

Why?

The question hangs uncomfortably, weighing on his mind. With the information he has he doesn’t understand. There’s a lot he doesn’t understand now.

Arthur sits up and uncurls, leaning back on his chair to stare to the ceiling. Shakily, he wipes his face, rubbing the damp from his eyes. It doesn’t matter. Mystery. Lewis. If he was two years back in time then none of it mattered. Just more fuel for the nightmares, which would now be returning with a vengeance. He had been doing so well up until the mansion, managing a regular sleep schedule with seven full hours a night and everything.

For now, he leaves the conundrum alone, looking around for a distraction. There’s nothing of interest and he can’t for the life of him remember what he should be working on at this point in time. When had he finished that online engineering course? 2013? Arthur gets dressed and heads down to check out the hybrid engine his Uncle had mentioned before his abrupt exit.

Lance gives him a look when he returns but doesn’t mention Arthur’s odd behaviour. Darrel is there and he returns the guys phone, waving off another greeting. He slots back into the workshops routine without issue, listening to his Uncle and Darrel talk over their a recent acquisition as he examines, dismantles and reconstructs.

Just as he’s feeling some sense of normality, relaxing into the work, there’s a familiar yell of greeting from outside the garage. Through the open roller doors, on the other side of the chain-link fence designed to keep out the general public, Vivi is waving to catch his attention.

“Hey! Arthur! Hey! Can you let us in the front! No one’s answering. I told you, you need a better doorbell!”

Uncle Lance straightens, shaking his head.

“That girl,” he huffs, turning to Arthur, “How about ya go let your friends in before someone decides to climb a fence. I think I got this covered.”

Arthur stares at Vivi who is still waving, attention shifting. Next to her is a familiar purple-clad shape. He’s standing, hands tucked casually in pockets, watching Vivi yell with a fond smile. Any form of relaxation instantly evaporates.

It's Lewis.

Note: Because people seemed to like the idea I decided to continue. I do have a part 3 planned but it’ll probably take a few days to finish.

#mystery skulls #mystery skulls animated #msa #arthur kingsmen #time travel #hellbent #fanfiction #fanfic

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symbrock-darling · 5 years

Note

Hiya! I’ve read your drabbles and short little fics and I loved them! I was wondering if you could write a Drabble about Eddie and Venom meet the Avengers, or if not, could you point me in the direction of fics like that? Thanks!!

I couldn’t think of a better time to share this fic @mydoggoesnom requested so long ago than now, now that Avengers: Endgame’s trailer has finally dropped (finally). I didn’t tackle Eddie and Venom meeting all of the Avengers, but I thought Eddie might do well if he met another San Fran local. Enjoy!

Rating: T

Word Count: ~1700

Title: See You Around

Eddie was enjoying a beer at the bar after a very, very long day tracking down leads, uncovering a corrupt official and then having to deal with his enhanced bodyguard – a guy who’d done everything he could to be a pain in the ass and generally give both he and Venom a run for their money. They’d won and after turning them into the authorities, it was well into the evening. Venom was dozing at the back of Eddie’s mind as he drank, and seemed wildly content to recuperate while Eddie watched the news.

As always these days, the news was filled with villains and heroes and anything anyone could scrounge up about the Avengers. But in San Francisco, he was interested to find that not only had they made the news since someone managed to catch a small clip of them as they’d streaked away in a black, glossy blur, but also that they hadn’t been the only ones active today either. Turned out Ant-Man had been busy too. The reports were unclear about what exactly had happened, but there he was, big as a house. And here Eddie thought he and Venom lacked subtlety.

A dark-haired man groaned in relief as he settled beside Eddie in the only seat left in the bar, and he watched the guy smile and flag down the bartender. A moment later a beer appeared before him, and the look of utter delight that crossed his face matched the one Eddie had given not too long ago.

“Long day at the office?”

“The worst,” the stranger said dramatically before he paused and amended, “Well, maybe not the worst. But it was long, let me tell you.”

“I hear you, pal. I had a long one myself. I’m Eddie.”

“Scott."

Scott glanced up at the news where it had just cycled back to the Ant-Man story. He smirked and nodded at it. "Crazy huh?”

“Yeah, news is pretty insane these days,” Eddie agreed. “Avengers, size-changing men, superpowers, aliens. What’s next?”

“You want to know what I heard today? About what he was fighting?” Scott said, nodding toward the TV where Ant-Man was still the center of attention. Scott leaned closer. “Shape-changer. That thing could turn into practically anything. There?” Scott waggled a finger at the screen where helicopter footage caught Ant-Man stumbling back from something impossible to see from the angle. “It turned into an elephant. An elephant!”

“Eh, that’s nothing. That guy,” Eddie uncurled his index finger where it was wrapped around his bottle to point at the TV which had cycled back to Venom. “Dealt with a firestarter today.” Eddie mimicked the way the firestarter had produced flames from his hands earlier, complete with sound effects. “Fire everywhere.”

“Ugh, fire’s the worst, especially here in California. If firestarters want to play somewhere, the least they could do is have the decency to go somewhere that’s not going to burn everything? It’s not like Ant-Man and whoever that is on the screen are carrying around tons of water.” Scott made a contemplative face. “Can that guy do that?”

“What? Him? Venom?” Eddie laughed at the thought. “No, I don’t think so. Just super strength. Durability. Tentacles. At least, that’s what I hear.”

Scott’s eyes widened and he leaned toward Eddie, voice dropping. “That’s Venom? And tentacles? That thing’s a genuine tentacle monster?” He covered his mouth and the amused, horrified smile growing there. “Things really are crazy these days, aren’t they?”

Eddie opened his mouth, thought better of it, then said, “Maybe they’re more like tendrils?”

“Maybe. Seems like semantics though,” Scott said with a chuckle before he took a sip of his beer. “Wonder what it’s like to be that guy? Tentacles, dear lord.”

“I hear they’re pretty useful,” Eddie replied casually. “I mean, in comparison to Ant-Man who’s always stumbling around because of his size and everything, can’t be too bad. Venom’s versatile and fast.”

Scott waved a hand. “It’s only because of Ant-man’s size that he’s so slow. Can you imagine being that big? That’s a lot of mass to move around. Not to mention there’re buildings and people – man, so many people, they’re like, everywhere. Must be tough for him.”

"They’re always in the way,” Eddie added with a chuckle of his own. “Even when they’re told to leave. At least, that’s how it seems when I watch the news.”

“Right?” A wide smile crossed Scott’s lips. “But, I mean, come on. It’s not like Ant-Man’s not trying. It’s hard – it looks hard, I mean – being that size. Better when he’s smaller. Like, honestly.”

“Ant-Man can get smaller?” Eddie paused, listening to himself. “Guess that’s why he’s called Ant-Man.”

“Yeah, and he’s way faster. And stronger.”

“Can’t be stronger than Venom,” Eddie couldn’t help but say with a grin. “You have to see that guy. He’s intense.”

Scott made a face. “Seems kind of wild to me. From what I’ve heard, there are even rumors that he eats people. Can you believe that?”

Eddie made a face and smiled while he sipped the last of his beer. Yes, he could, in fact, believe it.

“Who knows?” Eddie said instead. “And if it is true, no one’s perfect. He only eats bad guys, from what I hear. Like, really bad guys. I mean with Ant-Man I’ve heard the civil damages alone are stacking, especially since he learned how to get big.”

Scott sniffed. “Didn’t learn anything. And like I said earlier, being big’s hard – got to be hard, I mean. And draining. And it’s not like he’s had a lot of special training or lots of money or anything like that. Maybe he’s just, I don’t know, an average joe making it all up as he’s going, doing the best he can? Bet Venom can’t say anything like that. Bet he’s got money out the wazoo.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he was just as average,” Eddie sighed, wishing he had money out the wazoo. “Just some Joe too. Can’t all be Starks, you know?”

“Or Pyms,” Scott added drawing from his bottle again. “I’m glad you get it, Eddie. No one else I know really just gets it. Well, except for my daughter.”

“That’s sweet,” Eddie said.

Scott smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

“You know what I think?” said the guy on the other side of Eddie, and they both glanced the eavesdropper’s way. “I think they’re both idiots. They make more of a mess trying to save people than actually doing any real good. Sure, someone’s alive, but can you think of all the money it’s going to take to rebuild everything they destroy afterward? Because I can, and let me tell you, it’s not cheap. They should think before they act.”

After the day Eddie had had and all the people they’d saved – who admittedly had been terrified by them, but also relieved and thankful – the last thing he wanted to do was listen to this guy.

“So, these heroes should just let people die?” he asked.

“Money’s more important than saving lives?” Scott added, a hard look in his eyes. “Those guys are putting their lives on the line to keep people safe.”

“That’s what the police are for,” the naysayer said. “They should just leave it to the professionals.”

“And if the professionals can’t get there in time?” Eddie reasoned, trying to control his anger as he thought about Drake. “What if the professionals aren’t able to get through the red tape and actually do something about it?”

“I’m not saying there aren’t problems with the system,” the guy said. “Just that we shouldn’t have vigilantes breaking everything and deciding what’s right, then leaving before they can be held accountable.”

“Tell that to the people they save,” both he and Scott said at the same time. They eyed each other, but Eddie looked back when the guy harrumphed, grabbed his drink and moved to the other end of the bar where another spot had opened up.

“What an asshole,” Scott said.

“No kidding,” Eddie said. “Let him put on a suit and see what he does.”

“Right?”

They both laughed, but in the wake of the exchange something nudged at Eddie’s mind, and suddenly he couldn’t help but look – really look – at Scott. He looked tired, but then most people here did so it didn’t mean that much. What was interesting however were the bruise marks on his hands and palms. The purple smear just visible under the collar of his shirt on his shoulder. A place the Ant-Man on the screen had fallen on when he’d been shoved to the ground.

Now that there was a pause in the conversation, he noticed that Scott was looking at him too, eyes subtly searching. The reporter in Eddie wondered just how right his growing suspicions were, even as Scott’s brow pinched slightly too.

Eddie, Venom said, breaking through his thoughts, the alien’s voice thick and tired as if he’d just risen out of his doze. Are you done? You said one beer, and it’s been two. Let’s go home. We need to sleep.

Uh, right. Yeah, Eddie said telepathically before he gave his head a tiny shake. They had been here a while, and he had promised his symbiote that he wouldn’t be long. And maybe, this once, he wouldn’t let his inner reporter out. Let’s go, then.

Venom curled within him, radiating contentment at the news that they were finally going home. After flagging down the bartender and settling up, he stood.

“Well, it’s been fun, Scott, but I’ve got someone who wants me home. You know how it is.” Eddie patted Scott’s shoulder as he passed by. “See you around.”

“See you around.”

Scott lifted his beer and smiled before returning his attention back to the news where his lips curled ever so slightly at the sight of Ant-Man on the screen. Despite what Eddie might suspect, there was no point in digging.

And so he walked out of the bar and resolved that if they as Venom ever did run into Ant-Man one day, he’d invite him out for another beer.

#eddie brock #scott lang #venom #avengers #mcu #venom fanfiction #crossover #just a fun prompt request #i loved it #oka writes

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dorks6 · 5 years

Text

A Cure I Know

Some days are harder than others. On those days, all I wish is to rest in his arms and slowly heal. But tonight is not the night I can take him from his work. Except that's what I think and Sungjin has different plans.

Sungjin x OC | Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Self Indulgent Fluff, Comfort Cuddles (AO3)

Doors fall shut behind me and I feel weight in my shoulders begin to liquify, though it still clings to me, but it is not until Sungjin calls "Welcome home" from the living room that I truly feel like I am home.

The urge to just rush into the room and crumple into his arms, soak up his warmth and feel the long week soothed and smoothed out from between my brows, my shoulder blades by his gentle hands, is so strong I have to take a moment to compose myself.

My willpower has never been exceptional, but Sungjin both bolsters and challenges it - denying myself the comfort of his presence is almost impossible for me. But tonight I will not be selfish, I repeat again the same words that I have for the entire, all too long ride home and put on a smile as I go to him.

(It's not lying. It's just so he wouldn't drop his work and try to mend the slowly spreading void in me with his light. It's not lying. I am being considerate.)

He looks over his shoulder as I enter and next moment, I am hurrying to wrap arms around his neck over the back of the couch, pressing a kiss to his cheek and I can feel his smile widen beneath my lips. I rest my head next to Sungjin's and the way his hands come to hold mine diminishes the awareness of couch's edge digging into my abdomen.

"How is the work going?" I ask, taking in the many programs and tabs open on the laptop. "It is going," he tells me and I know that means he's still stuck in the same spot from this morning, but he's almost got it handled. Like he always does, with unassuming persistence and thoughtfulness.

Tomorrow, he will tell me how the song is almost finished and play me a preview, singing snippets of the lyrics giving him such a hard time now in a low voice, while I am curled up on this same couch and sipping tea that will have little to do with the warmth filling me. It will be beautiful and right and...

It will be tomorrow. Now, I must let him work.

"It’s going to be wonderful," I say, both about the morning that is like a ghost of honey for my aching soul, and about the song still shaping in his hands. The pride and joy over him are almost only things I can feel tonight and they swell further, pushing emptiness back a notch.

He hums in response, not quite agreeing, and there is that pang again, the one twisting me up each time he doubts himself and I feel horrible for not being able to tackle it right now. Tomorrow, I promise to myself. Tomorrow. I will be able to be a better person tomorrow. And I will use that chance.

"Did you eat?" Sungjin asks, because of course he does, and I stiffen a little. I do not want to lie, not even this much, and I already know what a 'no' will lead to, like almost every Friday. (Us cuddling on this couch and a movie as a colorful backdrop for soft conversations or comforting silence as we eat some take-out food. And the vision is so tempting, but the busy screen of laptop reminds me of my resolve.)

"I grabbed a bite before coming home," I tell him and it's not completely untrue - I had planned to, but the line was long and my hunger absent. The only thing I had wanted was to be here - home, with him.

Sungjin pulls away a little to look at my face and I know he's about to see through me so I kiss him sweetly. The angle is a little awkward, but it's perfect anyway and my smile against his lips is genuine as I pull away, just a little. The moment of silence is tipping over with gentleness of his lips that tingles in mine still.

"I think I will go to bed now." Disappointment flashes over his face, but he doesn't voice it. Which is a painful relief, truly. "Okay, baby," Sungjin lightly kisses my nose and I will myself to slowly untangle my arms and walk out.

I take a short shower because standing in the hot water for too long lets my mind wander distances I should not let it go on nights like these (or ever), call one last goodnight to Sungjin and curl up in bed. The darkness settles over me, softly at first and then with gradually increasing weight.

It's stupid, I think, stupid and selfish and greedy to feel this alone when your boyfriend is just in the other room. When he would drop everything to comfort you if you only gave as much as a hint. But that's the thing, I don't want to. I don't want to be slowly suffocating, I don't want to pull him away from work that makes him happy. I don't want to be. A burden. So childish. Hollow. Helpless. Greedy.

To be.

The numbness saves me from crying, for now. I am thankful, well, what part of me can be, because I do not want him to see my puffy-eyed tomorrow and guess at the cause. Briefly, I consider reaching for my phone and scrolling blindly through something, anything, but I know it would not help, so I settle for letting these thoughts running heavy footed, slow circles around my exhausted mind. Eventually, their steps will grow so monotonous and slow that they turn into a lullaby. I just have to wait it out, at the basement of a house crumbling down, tonight more than it has in a while for no reason at all.

Just wait it out.

The doors open quietly and Sungjin tiptoes around the room, there are shuffling noises. I wonder what he's searching for, but don't ask. And then the bed dips under his weight and he is curling up around me. His arm pulls me by waist closer to him, encloses me in his warmth. Light kiss lands on top of my head and this is when the tears come as if the sea has been thawed by him and now sways in first spring storm.

I know he can feel my soft sobs, just as I feel his steady breath with my back. He doesn't shush me, just finds my hand in the dark and holds it, thumb stroking a soothing pattern on my skin. They sink into my cracked walls and heal them from within, like some kind of magic that only Sungjin seems to possess.

"It's been a long week," he says, giving me an explanation, excuse and understanding all in one as he cradles me through last of my sobs. He must have known from the moment I came in, as he always does. Maybe he saw it coming before I did. He can always sense the approaching earthquakes, it seems. Except he does not run away, he stays and ensures the city doesn't collapse.

"I am sorry." My words are muffled as I burrow myself further into him and under the blankets. Before he can say there is nothing to apologize for, I try to explain: "The album, I -"

Sungjin interrupts very rarely, almost never, but for once he does: "I finished the work for tonight, everything is exactly where I want it to be right now. Especially me."

He always knows the things to say, despite insisting on the opposite. "I missed you and there is nowhere else I'd rather be," he says into my hair. My heart beats slowly, but heavily in my chest, as if happiness has turned into gold in its depths. I murmur a soft "same" and wiggle out of his hold to get some tissues because my runny nose is now my only physical discomfort. (Shame is another matter, better left unattended for now.)

"But you did not eat, did you?" he asks, as I return in my previous spot and sigh, content to ignore everything that exists beyond this embrace.

I sputter a laugh, his concern for my meals as constant as himself. It’s short lived, however, in remembrance of having omitted the truth from him. Even if Sungjin is not judging me for it, I am. "I did not," I admit then and he shifts slightly, so before he can sit up and pull me with him, I hurry to add: "but I really don't want to get up."

He contemplates it for a moment and then relents, body relaxing again. "Me too. But tomorrow I will take you out someplace nice. No arguing."

"Anywhere with you is nice," I remind him as I smile into the darkness that is now a welcome presence. It snuffs out distractions from the feeling of Sungjin's arm held to my chest, his one leg resting lightly over mine, dims the noises of outside so I can focus completely on his breath and the way my name sounds on his lips as he wishes me good night. And as I drift off to sleep, I realize the warmth of the tomorrow ahead has already dripped into tonight and the transition will be gentle.

#Day6 #Sungjin #Park Sungjin #Sungjin fanfiction #Day6 fanfiction #Rainy writes stuff #Shoutout to my 2 friends encouraging me to write AND publish this #also I guess I'm on ao3 now #some of the previous stuff that's only been published in snippets might see full light of day there #idk #and the fics I might write in future

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