#mercy gets so much shit i am bitter about it leave me alone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justagirlsearchingforamuse · 3 years

Note

If you are still taking nsfw requests, could you please write Heisenburg having some 'alone time' with himself?

"Hmm ... yeah this will have to work ... running out of options because of that stupid man Ethan Winters. The man is nothing but trouble. ... I was a fool to consider trying to work with the clown." Karl growled in a ragged breath, his hands were pressed into his messy cluttered desk and he stood slightly hunched over his desk with his eyes staring at the revised plan he had. He stared over the plan once more, he'd have to either get rid of Ethan or let him do all his dirty work and then finish him off once more. As he slumps into his chair, a heavy sigh leaves his lips at once and he takes his old tethered hat off, he's quite surprised he hasn't lost the beloved accessory. Sitting it down on his disorganized desk with papers, photos, and crumbled pieces of paper he lets a heavy breath leave his lips and tries to let peace rest in his old factory and within his soul. The sound of machinery working actively, metals bumping into other metals and the scent of dust and metal lays heavy in the air. He liked his factory. Just the way it was. Messy. Dirty. Dusty. He loved it, it was his own little home and his place to truly be himself and truly allowed to be vulnerable without the worry of being seen as weak. As inadequate, he runs his thick fingers through his straight dark grey hair, pushing some hair out of his face as he listens to the machines, the huffing, and the metals clanking together and it reminds me of something he's tried so damn hard to forget. You.

He enjoyed and relished being alone, he was in his element, he was allowed to be vulnerable but there was that soft aching in his soul that missed your soft humming or missed hearing you enter his factory. He missed the smell of you, it was warm and so heavenly to his nostrils, when you would bother trying to clean up his cluttered mess and he would try and excuse it. Try and get you to stop. Damn, did he miss you. He sits up straight in his chair, his finger rests upon his bottom lip as he forces and pushes thoughts of you out of his head, he can't bear to think about you, he can't bear to be weak again after what you did to him. "fuck" he mutters in a swift breath as his hands cover his face, he buries his face in his hands as he finds getting rid of you is like getting rid of gnats, nearly fucking impossible. He lets out an agitated sigh, nearly growling to himself before his eyes lay heavy on his desk, still cluttered and messy once again he decides to at least get rid of some of his failed plans. As he begins to grab at a few crumpled up paper balls, he suddenly stops and another sigh leaves his lips, he stops as rushed words leave his lips. "what the fuck am I doing?" he mutters as he began to try and put things back where they were, his hands moved too quickly and suddenly a photo falls onto the floor. It's a polaroid, he twists in his chair and picks up the photo and his eyes harden at the sight of what he tries and tried so desperately to forget. To leave behind. His eyes meet the sight of your face, you took what Americans call a "selfie", a short yet soft chuckle leaves his lips at your weird slang and your way with words was so unique. You smile warmly at the camera, a natural smile suits you perfectly and the light in your eyes, the natural warmth that flushed your skin, everything about you reminded him of what he lost. The family he lost. He missed what he used to once be, human. Humans have freedom, are free to be whoever and do whatever they want but a cruel bitch with selfish intentions and a knack for kidnapping took that away from him.

His face softens at your picture, he remembers your laughter echoing through the room so beautiful and unique to his ears, how you would sit on his lap and tease him with your smile, he remembers so much about you. He remembers you. He remembers the day you left, bitterness on your tongue, sharp anger in your veins and you left with horror, with tears and with nothing but pain striking your face. He hurt you. In return you left him, you left him all alone with nothing but his so-called "family". He wants to rip up your picture, burn it and spit on the image he once treasured so dearly but all he can do is look at what memory he has of you. "Damn, you don't know how much ... how much I miss you ..." Karl whispers, a deep frown curls onto his lips and he can memorize and almost catch your voice in his ears. His throat begins to get tight and his lips try to tremble and quiver before, he buries his teeth in his tongue and inhales a sharp breath to stop himself from being too ... open. He exhales slowly and sets your picture down on the desk once more, he slumps back in his chair, and memories of you circle and float around in his head. "Come on ... forget her, she fucking left you." He mutters and murmurs to himself in a whisper, sighing once again as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, he keeps repeating "forget her, fuck her" almost like a mantra. But it doesn't fucking work. Especially when he finds himself pitching a tent, his pants become tighter and not as loose as he prefers them to be, he lets out a little more than agitated growl from his lips at the sight. Clicking his tongue, he decides that maybe he can turn this into just another jerk-off session that is nothing more than that, he sets your picture up on a coffee cup he has and lets it sit there right in view. His tongue swirls around his lips as he unzips his pants, he slips his hand in his boxers and lets his eyes rest as he wraps his hand around his firm thick semi-hard cock. He lightly squeezes at the organ, causing him to let out a swift breath at the sensation before leaning back just slightly more, grinding his teeth into his bottom lip he begins to gradually move his hand up and down his cock. "Damn ... kinda sensitive, huh?" Karl says in a slow ragged breath, his voice rumbles, and echoes through the factory.

He wants to rush into it, he wants to imagine you with your tongue down his throat, hands exploring his body and he could imagine your chuckles after he rips off your clothes. "Fuck ..." Karl whispers, his eyebrows furrow at images of you that flash in his mind, the things he's done to you, the sheer pleasure that he's given you has him squeezing his fully erect cock. His fingers travel to the head of his cock, he squeezes at the sensitive area causing a ragged deep growl to leave his parted lips, pleasure pulsates through him and leaves him almost like putty in his hand. He swallows thickly and inhales once again, his hand begins to slowly travel up and down his thick meaty cock that pulsates, eagerly. Heavy ragged breaths leave his lips, his eyes are closed, almost like he's relaxed and at ease with his hand shoved down his pants and his mind focused on the aching problem in between his thighs. When his hand travels to the head of his cock, his thumb moves in circles around the head, slow agonizing circles that leave him almost gasping for air at the throbbing sensations that travel through him. "Damn ..." Karl groans deeply, a ragged breath soon follows as he spreads his legs wider, his hand travels up and down his throbbing hard cock, heavy ragged breaths are all that leave his lips. "Shit ... shit ..." He breaths out heavily, he whines and it fills his throat and the factory he resides in, echoing heavily through the room before a deep breath leaves his lips. "Get the fuck outta the way," Karl whispers to himself, he pushes his pants down to his ankles and his cock isn't restrained by his pants, his hand moves to his cock once again and continues to gently stroke his throbbing cock that now leaks with precum. "Gah ..." Karl gasps, burying his teeth into his bottom lip as heat begins to flood into his being, his heart throbs and pulsates in his chest, and arousal pulses through him, leaving him aching for sweet release. Hot damn ...

"Yeah, remember how you used to just worship me ... do you remember how much of a masochist you were? That look on your face though ... whenever I had you tied up and at my mercy or ... whenever you needed to be punished ... oh damn ..." Karl rambles to himself, his words are slurred and his thoughts of full of nothing but you, he remembers how you used to tease him away from his work and how good you were at making him hard in mere moments. His cock pulsates in his hand at the thought of you and he decides to kick it up a notch, his hand begins to move at a slightly quicker pace as it travels up and down his throbbing meaty cock. His cock leaks with precum that travels down the head of his cock, his thumb quickly moves against the sensitive head, rubbing and massaging that sensitive area causing sharp waves of ecstasy to rush through him. He licks his lips and a wide toothy grin curls onto his lips, a light chuckle follows soon after as short and breathless moans leave his parted lips, the heat that was once warm gets hotter and it travels throughout his body. "Yeah, you remember that. You can't forget how good my cock felt down that tight throat of yours, how you savored my seed obediently ... haah ... damn." Karl rambles once more, imagining as though you were listening to him, what follows after his words are heavy breathless moans that are pried from his lips. He uses his other hand to clutch the chair's arms as his hand eagerly strokes and massages his cock aching in between his legs. "Ah ..." Karl moans deeply, a growl at the end of that moan as he can ecstasy pulsate through him, his body throbs with arousal and aching as he selfishly takes care of himself. He was getting close.

The heat that was hot as hell was now boiling inside of him, running his hands through his hair he wraps both of his hands around his cock, eager to taste his release quicker as his face twists at the waves and waves of ecstasy that travels through him. He clenches his teeth and his eyes are closed tightly, heavy ragged raspy breaths leave his lips followed by low growls of your name that he repeated like a mantra. "Oh, fuck ...! Oh, baby ... don't you miss me? Don't you miss how I used to fuck you ... nice and hard, all night fucking long and I still have your marks on my back." He rambles in a series of heavy breaths that clouded his throat, he begins to fist his cock swift and severely as sharp powerful waves of bliss washed over him in heavy waves of heat. "Oh, fuck! Shit! Oh, shit ...!, Baby, I want you so bad ... I want you here with me ... your lips wrapped around my cock or maybe you would want to ... want to be on your back like a dog. Eager for my cock, eager to get pounded into the mattress." Karl rambles once again, a smile is curled onto his lips as he is so eager to chase after a high, eager to chase after whatever he was deluding himself into that had him believing you were there. "Oh, shit! Goddamn ...!" Karl pants out, his breaths become raspy and sound like a growl at the end of each moan that falls from his lips. His throat is tight and struggling to keep oxygen in it, heat boils within him and he's just so enamored with the thought of you and you're not even there. Clenching his teeth, he begins to drive his hips into his tight fist, his hand swiftly stroking his throbbing hard cock as he throws his head back. Waves after waves of ecstasy travel and burst through him, the ecstasy is strong, merciless, and unforgiving and he fucking loves it so much. Oh, what you do to him ...

"Shit, baby ... I'm gonna ... I'm gonna come ... gonna come so fuckin' hard. I love you ... I love you ..." Karl rambles out in heavy ragged breaths as he continues to vigorously fist his throbbing meaty cock, his breaths are caught in the middle of his throat and when it hits him his entire body disobeys him. His body jerks, almost jumps at the tides of bliss that flood through him and he reaches his boiling point, his stomach coils and he bites at his tongue enough to make himself bleed as thick ropes of semen land onto his shirt. "Fuck, (Y/N) ...! Oh ..." He whines deeply, his hand continues to vigorously stroke his cock, shorter ropes of cum spurt onto his shirt as he desperately tries to feel more. To see you again. He'll never admit that. Never let his mind admit because he's a stubborn bastard but there's that thought in his head, he was wondering if you would've said "I love you". He wondered if you would've just smiled at him and left him again, when he catches his breath a bitter taste hits his tongue, and memories of your time together hits him like a pile of bricks. Fuck, all he wanted was to forget you. Forget that you brought him up just to leave him when he needed you most. His eyes open and he inhales a shaky breath through his nostrils, pain weighed heavy on him and that's all he can think of. The pain. Your last words. The tears. He remembers you.

#resident evil smut #resident evil 8 #karl heisenburg #karl heisenberg x reader #re: village #smut

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romanapologist · 3 years

Text

montreal - roman hurt/comfort

pairing: this was written to all be platonic prinxiety, but can definitely be interpreted romantically !

warnings: unconventional self harm, non-graphic descriptions of wounds/injury

summary: a post-POF roman hurt/comfort fic in january 2021? yes <3

word count: 3.2k

notes: large portions of this were salvaged from one (1) night last summer at 4am when i was having a . time. the rest has been mainly recently written before i go to bed, with some extra bits added during my history classes B)) also shout out to [REDACTED]. u may not read this but if u do, i hope u know who u are & ilu

Virgil had been trying to calm himself down for the better part of an hour, as soon as they got back from the wedding fiasco; and he was doing a relatively okay job. Considering the circumstances, at least. Or so he thought, when he registered a spike in Thomas’s anxiety. This only served to make Virgil more anxious, because he had thought he had been doing well—until, he realized it wasn’t anxiety, not exactly, not fully—and it wasn’t coming from him.

Once he'd figured that out, it wasn't hard to trace the feeling to the imagination. He paused at the door. If this was where the strongest negative emotions were coming from, he already knew which side this was about. And could he really be surprised? Roman had wanted that callback for so long. Even at the court case, even when Roman gave Thomas his sentence, Virgil knew it killed him. And Virgil didn't do anything. Because he was so fucking scared of Thomas being bad, or of Janus winning, or something, and now whatever was going on was his fault, and--

And now was not the time for these thoughts. He breathed in. He opened the door.

Immediately, he was coughing out soot, heat burned his cheeks, his eyes blurred with protective tears forming against the smoke. It was hard to see, let alone process, what was happening. Then, he caught sight of the Dragon Witch. And he caught sight of—

“Roman!” Virgil choked on the yell, coughing again.

Obviously Roman couldn’t hear him from the distance, especially considering the brutal roar of the creature. Adrenaline kicked in, and as Virgil began to sprint towards the prince, he took in the entirety of the scene with alarm. Roman was...fighting, sure, except that Virgil had seen him fight before, and this... wasn’t right. Roman bested manticore-chimeras like it was a breeze, he HAD bested the Dragon Witch herself in every form she took, “just for training.” He always moved like he was in a ballet, not a battle, like it was more for show than challenge, and now...

Virgil watched Roman fall to a hard swish of the creature’s tail, and stay there. He almost expected the Dragon Witch to take mercy, or at least, to accept an early victory. But he watched her rear back, raise a taloned hand, the magma-red in her throat glowing brighter and brighter—just as Virgil got close enough to let fight win over flight.

Virgil crashed into Roman; they rolled just far enough that the swipe of claws only ripped the edge of Virgil’s jacket.

Immediate danger out of the way, Virgil clenched his eyes tight, trying to do it how Logan taught him. He found something that didn’t make sense--the grass. The grass was dry, therefore it should have been burning, but it wasn’t. He took that foothold to dispel all the fantastical elements of the scene, Dragon Witch and all her carnage blinking from existence. The new calm of the scene was jarring.

That just left a great big field, Virgil, and one absolute dumbass.

"What the fuck, Princey?!"

Virgil’s voice was distorted with stress, and Roman stared up at him wide-eyed, unsure—even terrified in a way that hurt. Virgil quickly pushed himself up so he wasn't pinning the other. Roman tried to copy this movement, only to groan, start coughing, and fall back again.

“Shit, I—“ Virgil looked at his hands and found red on them, looked at Roman and saw the color painting his chest. “I thought I dispelled all the imaginary stuff, why—?“

“Left brain sides can only dispel so much of what right brain sides feel,” Roman said, voice rough and thin and upsettingly casual, “Since they feel so real to me, you can’t get rid of them.”

“They feel…? Christ, ok, you need a medical kit, uhm—“ Virgil closed his eyes again; he was notoriously shitty at summoning things, and he had to concentrate for this—

“That’s ok; I’ve got it,” Roman said, letting out a quiet hiss as he propped himself up on one arm, and summoned the medical kit with the other, “You can go now.”

Virgil gaped at him in disbelief. When Roman attempted to stand up, and Virgil could no longer deny he wasn’t joking, he exclaimed, “Like Hell am I going, idiot!”

Roman just stared at him, and Virgil cursed under his breath. “Ok ok, let’s just... we should do this in the bathroom, uhm—“

Virgil awkwardly clambered over to Roman again, taking his hand, so he could blink them over together. He knew it would probably be more comfortable for Roman to sink in and out, but considering Virgil wasn’t practiced at that, he wasn’t going to risk screwing it up.

They apparated into the bathtub, and Virgil scrambled up, taking the med kit from Roman's hands.

Ok, ok, now Virgil just had to remember that one time Logan lectured them all on “Side Safety.” He took a shaky breath and washed his hands quickly, before turning back to Roman. He allowed himself to fully assess the prince this time and… Jesus. He was slumped against the back of the tub, having given up his attempts at composure while he thought Virgil wasn’t looking. His litany of scrapes, cuts, bruising, his shallow breathing, and--most of all--the wet, red patch slowly growing on his shirt, sparked renewed panic in Virgil.

“Ok, fuck, ok--let’s do this,” Virgil said, mostly to himself, as he knelt down by Roman to undo his already tattered shirt and take a wet towel to his chest. He had to suck in a breath at the sight of the jagged wound, a nauseous feeling catching up to him.

“You’ve already done a lot, you know,” Roman insisted. “You can--”

“If you tell me to go, Princey, I swear I’ll make these wounds worse myself,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest, which he would assume Roman knew--but the way Roman flinched and shut his mouth told a different story. “Shit, I didn’t mean that. Of course I didn’t mean that!”

Roman glanced away, and Virgil reached to cup his cheek, an instinct he didn’t know he had. Luckily, he caught himself in time to retract his hand. They both avoided eye contact for a second; Virgil cleared his throat; and he reached for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide before pausing. He vaguely recalled Logan mentioning how strong alcohols would only cause more harm, and they should just stick to mild soap instead. He gave the cut a longer look-over—it was certainly not a pretty sight, but probably not as bad as it looked. It was large, but not too deep. Plus, as sides, it would heal itself without needing anything like stitches or professional medical work. The past scars littering Roman’s body were proof of that. Actually--had he always had this many scars? Virgil squinted. How often did he do this?

Virgil finished cleansing and bandaging the wound to the best of his ability, with little talk beyond the occasional, soft “sorry” at Roman’s winces. When he had finished, he gave Roman his hoodie (an action the Prince was too tired to take much notice of), since summoning a new shirt seemed like a waste of whatever energy he had left.

“Ok, Princey, all done. Uhm, are you—how, how are you?” Virgil mentally kicked himself.

A small, bitter smile tugged at Roman’s lips for just a moment. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and finally shrugged. “Thank you for your help.”

It hurt, Virgil realized. Roman’s quiet voice, where near-shouting was his usual speech. His unkempt hair sticking to his forehead, where it was usually styled to be very lightly and intentionally ruffled. The bags beneath his eyes where there was usually concealer. All of it hurt.

Virgil sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, but I hope you know there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving yet.”

“Virgil,” Roman almost said it as a whine, which was closer to his usual style, so Virgil considered it progress.

“Roman,” Virgil deadpanned back.

Roman huffed. “Maybe I need space to really explore my feelings, and you’re actually being a terrible friend right now,” he argued.

“Uh-huh, well being a terrible friend is always my favorite, so,” Virgil leaned down, fumbling slightly as he picked Roman up bridal style, “We’re gonna get you to bed, and you can explore your feelings by sleeping.”

“Great, now you’re damsel-in-distressing me,” Roman said sarcastically, but he leaned his head into Virgil’s chest as he did so, which kind of ruined his point.

“Yeah, yeah. Act more like Megara next time, and maybe it’ll be different.”

•••

Roman groaned upon waking up. His whole body ached, but mainly it was focused around a sharper pain in his chest. He let his eyes flutter open, only to find Virgil staring at him from his desk.

“Ah,” Roman uttered, a jumble of memories from the past few hours returning. They felt foggy and mildly icky, but mainly the pain in them was the numb kind of pain, the tired kind. Really, it was indistinguishable from the dull ache of his bruises and cuts.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, as though he understood, even though he couldn’t possibly. “Uh, wanna talk about it?”

It was clear Virgil felt awkward asking the question. It was unclear whether that was due to his tendency to be embarrassed by everything he said, or—far more likely—that he wanted to stop babying a stupid prince, and just go about his business.

Roman sat up, suppressing a wince as best he could. “Do you want to hear about it?”

“Of course I do.” Virgil said it without an ounce of hesitation. Roman’s breath caught.

“Oh.” Roman shifted slightly over, and Virgil took a seat by him on the bed. “Okay. Uhm. I don’t know, I just—I messed up.” What else was new?

“...What did you mess up?” Virgil asked, with an inkling of suspicion, like he knew what this was about. But it wasn’t that; it wasn’t the callback—that was over and done and dead. Roman had created so many fantasies, so many crazy scenarios where they could somehow still make it in that stupid movie, and it had always filled him with hope or crushing pain or something, but as of this afternoon? He didn’t even care. It didn’t matter.

So, Roman ignored the question, and instead commented, “Janus got accepted.”

“What the fuck.”

Roman observed Virgil’s stricken expression like an unsettling kind of mirror of himself when—

My name is Janus.

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I didn’t take it so well either.”

Virgil looked at him for a long moment, seeming to go through several series of emotions, before he was able to ask, “...What happened?”

Roman inhaled sharply. “I was wrong about being wrong about the wedding. Patton was also wrong; Janus was right, and then Patton was right because he wasn’t a total asshole to Janus, and I’m evil; Thomas hates me; whatever, you get it.”

He thought he would break down, saying it, but he felt oddly… fine. He sat, staring at the same spot as he was before, absentmindedly annoyed at the way his bandages itched. The normalcy of the situation almost made it worse. This sucked. This wasn’t even bad.This was the worst he had ever felt.

“Oook,” Virgil said, clearly not knowing where to start, “I—you—what do you mean: Thomas hates you?”

“Thought that one was self-explanatory.”

“He can’t hate you,” Virgil said with a laughable amount of conviction. “You’re still his… y’know.. goals. Desires. Hopes. Whatever. Just because this one didn’t go… perfectly, doesn’t mean you won’t keep—“ he struggled to find the phrasing for a moment— “...fighting, uh, valiantly for Thomas’s dreams!” he attempted at the encouragement with a weak smile.

Roman just shook his head. “No. I don’t know what he wants.”

Virgil’s smile dropped into confusion. “But… you are his wants.”

“That’s kind of the problem.”

Virgil seemed at a loss, and Roman felt like an asshole. Here he was trying to help him, and Roman couldn’t even be bothered to put on a smile to dismiss him from the duty.

“Please go,” Roman attempted weakly when he couldn’t find a more convincing argument in himself. He was meant to be an actor, but he knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted him to stay, of course he did, so badly. He hoped Virgil would just quit with the chivalry and go despite that.

Virgil sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I'm going about this all wrong.”

Roman knew it probably wasn’t really him Virgil was mad at, but it was hard not to shrink away anyway.

“Look, Roman—“ Virgil turned to him, looked at him seriously, took his hands in his— “To be honest? I don’t care what happened. I don’t care who was right or wrong—I mean, we all know I’ve been in the wrong more than my fair share. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Roman didn’t miss the ambiguity of the end statement. “But… look, you don’t get it. When you mess up, you’re still you. You’re still...,” Roman gestured vaguely, which upset his bandages, and when he looked down at himself, he took note of the black/purple hoodie he was wearing. He melted slightly. This was exactly the point he was trying to make, “You’re still... y’know. Important.”

“Wh—? Of course you’re important, Ro. You’re creativity—“

“Thomas has two of those.”

Virgil looked at him like he was stupid. “Right, as if you’re anything like Remus.”

Roman’s lip quivered at that, and he had to look away, which was so stupid. And suddenly he felt all of the embarrassment at once—of this situation, of everything that had happened before, of the way he was about to cry, in front of Virgil, after he said that, which must look so—

“Roman?”

A hand was on his cheek, softly turning his face towards Virgil’s, though Roman still refused to meet his eyes.

Virgil cursed to himself under his breath. “Shit, this is exactly what I was trying not to say.” He sighed, and Roman hesitantly looked up at him. “Look. Even if you weren’t creativity, if you weren’t hopes or dreams or any of it—if you were a completely pointless side, which you aren’t, but if you were—I wouldn’t care. What I care about is that you’re... Roman. That you bother me until I sing Disney with you, that when you put your heart into something, you do it to a stupid amount, that you make Thomas take trashy buzzfeed soulmate quizzes when he’s stressed, and that you fucking try so hard for everything, even when I’m being a little bitch about it,” he paused. With the hand on Roman’s cheek, he traced the line of a scar down his jaw. It was one of the ones Roman usually made sure to put an illusion over, he noted offhandedly. “I care, because you’re my best friend.”

“Don’t say that,” Roman choked out. He couldn’t handle it if it was a lie, and part of him couldn’t manage hearing it as anything but exactly that. “Just—just—“

“Oh, Princey..”

Virgil held him as he broke. Roman didn’t know how long they sat like that as he let everything wash over him for a final time, let it all truly sink in at long last. He took heaving, messy sobs, no doubt ruining Virgil’s shirt in the process—he was quiet, though. He shook silently, save a couple choked breaths, in the other’s arms--that was a habit he had taught himself long ago.

When Roman had tired himself out, when all that was left was the pain in chest, (which was also suddenly duller—he was healing fast, even for a side—) he pulled back from the embrace. Virgil didn’t move by much, kept them so their fingers were laced together, as they sat staring at each other.

“Uhm. Thanks,” Roman gave a shaky smile, “You really—uh... I... I said some stupid stuff, huh?”

Virgil hesitated before he spoke, as if he knew he shouldn’t ask this right now, but needed to anyway. “...Roman, why’d you go to the Imagination?”

Roman felt ice stab at his chest upon the question. He didn’t want to do this. They had already talked about so much that he shouldn’t have gotten into; this was meant to be the part where they either parted or watched a stupid movie. And this, out of everything, was the conversation he most needed to avoid.

“Uh—I mean, to let off steam?” Roman gave a laugh as best he could. “Obviously, it didn’t go to plan—“

“Didn’t it?”

Roman’s face fell immediately. He struggled to come up with an answer, and even if he had had one, he didn’t think the sound would come out. This was enough of an answer in itself

“Shit,” Virgil breathed. Roman couldn’t help but be mildly annoyed by his surprise—clearly he had already known, he didn’t have to make it a big deal now.

“I… Princey—Roman…” Virgil looked him up and down, and Roman wanted to curl up and hide. “...how many times?”

“Not many,” Roman mumbled. Virgil must have known he was pushing the subject too far, because he just frowned and said,

“OK. I mean...it’s not OK, obviously, but you already know that, I just—“ he sighed. “Just… can you talk to me? Instead? Please? When you feel like… that.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Roman responded hastily, wanting an out from this topic.

Virgil gave him a look. “I’m serious. I mean—look, you don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want. Just, come to me first, yeah?”

Roman’s face burned; he was embarrassed; he wanted to shrug this whole thing off, or roll his eyes, or maybe scream in annoyance. But the rational part of him knew Virgil was right. “OK,” he agreed softly, “...Thanks. For everything.”

Virgil looked surprised, and then flustered, and then waved off the earnest reply. “I mean, it wasn’t--I didn’t--it’s not like I did anything really--”

“You did.”

Virgil’s face softened. “Yeah, well... you’d’ve done the same for me. You... have done the same for me.”

Roman smiled gently at him. “By the way, Virge--” He hesitated. He was about to sound like a real dumbass if Virgil had only been saying this stuff for comfort’s sake. But making a fool of himself was becoming a theme for him anyway, so he continued, “You’re my best friend too.”

I love you.

In the same beats Roman thought it, Virgil squeezed his hand lightly 3 times. A breath passed between them. An understanding. That Roman couldn’t say it out loud, and Virgil wouldn’t.

Instead, Virgil fell back across the bed, bringing Roman with him in the motion. Roman let out a startled gasp and elbowed him lightly. “Hey! I’m injured, that could have been a fatal impact for me!” he whined.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah, OK. So, do you wanna watch a stupid movie, or what?”

#lucy.fic #romangst #roman sanders angst #roman hurt/comfort #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety #ts roman #ts virgil #everyone ik reading the title of this fic: ohhh my god we know u like penelope scott we know #‘we know u associate this song w roman we KNOW</3’#roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #also standard statement that im not a writer i just write sometimes pls do not. judge thishehusgs

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writingblock101 · 4 years

Text

Heir to the Throne (Jason Todd x Reader)

Hello, I love you all so much for being patient with me! I am super excited to share this! This is a continuation to my other two part fic For the Kingdom. You don’t need to read it for it to make sense, but it does give some background.

A huge thank you to the absolutely lovely @incrediblysadstudent who edited and made some really amazing suggestions. She also runs a writing blog where she writes the batfam so definitely go show her some love!

Warnings: Threats of violence, puking

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish (I’ve missed you, my love) @mayahoelland2013

Word count: 4,800

You lean over the toilet with a groan as you retch again. Jason frowns with concern, one hand gently pushing your hair out of your face as his other comfortingly rubs your back. You pause, giving yourself a moment to breathe and spit into the porcelain toilet bowl. Jason leans over and flushes the toilet as you tiredly watch the contents swirl around then disappear.

Sighing, you push past Jason’s hand on your back and fall against the wall, exhausted. Jason’s frown deepens, he hates seeing you like this. He tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear, grabs the cup of water waiting on the bathroom counter, and brings it to your lips.

Your shaking hands wrap around the cup with Jason helping you tilt it, taking slow sips. As your grip on the cup gets stronger, Jason let’s go, opting to wrap an arm around your shoulder, bringing his lips to your forehead for a sweet kiss. You lean against his chest, your nose wrinkling at the bitter taste in your mouth.

“You alright?” Jason asks quietly.

“Yeah,” You respond, taking another sip of water to wash down the disgusting taste in your mouth.

“Are you though?” Jason’s tone hardens in seriousness. “You’ve been puking for the last two weeks and you’re exhausted all the time. I’m worried about you,” He admits, pulling you closer to his chest.

You stay quiet, staring down into the cup of water. Jason sighs, sounding irritated. He pulls his arm off your shoulder, running his hand through his hair with a frustrated huff.

“You’re hiding something from me,” He looks over at you, nudging your shoulder. You force yourself to look up at him and feel guilt pool in your stomach at the deep look of worry in your husband’s eyes. “We agreed to not do that so whatever is wrong, just tell me and we can deal with it together--”

“I’m pregnant,” You blurt.

Jason blinks, his face blank.

“You’re uh….” He swallows, blinking again in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “You’re what?”

You reach for his hand, placing it on your still flat stomach.

“I’m pregnant,” You repeat, enunciating the two words slowly.

“You’re… Pregnant…” Jason echoes back. Hearing himself say the words seems to break through the shock as a small smile works its way onto his face. “Holy shit!” He curses with an excited grin, his eyes lighting up. “You’re pregnant!” He exclaims, his eyes flicking from his hand to your face, his smile growing larger by the second.

“I’m pregnant!” You confirm, your voice cracking as you nod your head. Tears of joy well up in your eyes.

“We’re going to have a baby,” Jason’s eyes well up as well, as he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face into your shoulder.

You hug him back, squeezing with all your strength as a few tears slip, overwhelmed by how perfect this moment feels.

You didn’t mean to be secretive and worry Jason, but you two have been trying to have a child for a little over a year, so you wanted to be sure before you got his hopes up.

It’s hard to believe how far your relationship with Jason has come. What started as an unwilling arranged marriage has developed into a healthy, loving relationship. You were terrified of him, only knowing him through brutal battle stories in which his triumphs were bloody and his mercy was unheard of. The thought of marrying him terrified you straight to your core and made your insides burn with anger, but Jason has proved you wrong every step of the way.

He’s shown you his passion for his kingdom, his heart which is incapable of half-ass love, and his deep respect for everyone around him. Jason is full of passion, fire, and snark. While you two have your bad days and your tempers create blow out fights, you always find your way back to each other because at the end of the day, he’s the love of your life.

Jason pulls back from the hug, cupping your face with his hands, his thumbs wiping your tears. You can’t help but to giggle at the unshed tears brimming in his eyes. Jason huffs with a watery laugh too, leaning in and kissing you sweetly.

You frown, and pull back, your nose wrinkling.

“I just finished throwing up,” You remind him.

“Yeah, I could taste it,” Jason admits with a chuckle.

He rests his forehead against your, the excited grin never leaving his face as he runs his large hands across your stomach.

“We’re going to have a baby,” Jason murmurs to you in amazement, as if he can barely believe the words himself.

You place your hands over his.

“Yeah, we are,” You grin.

Jason kisses your forehead sweetly, pulling you close to him.

Long gone are the days of feeling pressured by advisors to make an heir, tense, fearful sex, and awkward conversations. You’re going to be parents and you can’t imagine embarking on this crazy journey with anyone else.

. . .

A week later, you and Jason are sitting in the kingdom doctor’s office. Jason nervously bounces his foot while Dr. Thompskin spreads cold gel across your stomach.

“It’s a little cold,” You giggle, feeling a chill run up your spine as you look toward your husband who smiles back tightly. Sighing, you reach out to Jason. “You have too much nervous energy.”

Jason takes your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess I do…”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the nervous one?” You tease, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“I don’t even know why I am so nervous…” Jason admits. “I mean, they’re in your body, you should be the nervous one, not me. I don’t even know if it’s really nerves, or if it’s just excitement. I mean, I’ve clearly been around pregnant people, but it’s different because it’s… you,” Jason rambles, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“Jay, it’s okay,” You tell him, moving your hand to cup his cheek. “It’s okay to be nervous, I’m nervous too,” You smile gently. “But that’s why we’re here, to make sure everything is okay.”

“Speaking of which,” Dr. Thompskin interrupts, moving the wand around your stomach, and points at the screen. “There is your baby, looking very healthy.”

Your eyes dart to the screen as you and Jason stare in awe at the tiny pea sized dot hidden in the fuzzy black and white image. Usually, you don’t understand the hype around early ultrasounds-- you can hardly see the baby-- but staring at your baby, your heart soars with excitement. Faintly, under the sound of your heartbeat through the monitor, you hear another sound, thudding at a faster pace than your heart.

“Is that…” You feel your eyes fill with tears as a smile breaks out across your face, listening more intently for the steady, thudding sound. “Is that their heartbeat?”

“It sure is,” Dr. Thompskin smiles.

You laugh, your grin hurting your face. A few tears slip down your face and you look over to Jason who is smiling with glossy eyes.

“This is actually happening,” You whisper to him.

“Yeah,” He grins, looking toward you. He gently squeezes your hand and turns his attention back to the monitor. “It is.”

. . .

“We need to hang some calendars,” You announce as you walk into Jason’s office, holding lunch on a tray.

Jason stands and takes the tray from you, kissing you on the cheek. Despite only being three months pregnant, Jason barely lets you lift a finger.

“Why is that?” He chuckles, pulling your seat out then moving to sit behind his desk once you are settled.

“Because the advisors don’t seem to know how long a month is,” You roll your eyes.

Ever since you and Jason proudly announced the pregnancy, the advisors have practically been frothing at the mouth at the prospect of a male heir. While a female heir would be fine, she would be more likely to marry into another kingdom as opposed to expanding your kingdom like a male heir would. Of course, you and Jason don’t care; however, the advisors will not stop bothering you about the gender of the baby, which you don’t know yet.

“How many times do I have to tell them I won’t know the gender for another month?!” You rant. “It’s ridiculous!”

The guard posted at Jason’s door snickers at your rant. You turn with a grin.

“Something funny, Quill?” You ask.

“Nothing, your Highness,” Peter stands at attention like the trained knight that he is. “But I think you’re overestimating the advisors abilities to read a calendar.”

Jason starts cracking up while you sigh in exaggeration.

“Shit, you’re right!” You exclaim, resting a hand on your stomach. “You know what will be worse? When we find out the gender, they’re going to “suggest” names.”

“You know they’re going to suggest old names after past kings,” Jason rolls his eyes. “Like Olaf.”

“Olaf?” You repeat back with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, let’s name our kid after the snowman in a kid’s movie,” You roll your eyes.

“You could give them a really intense name,” Peter suggests. “Like Slade or something.”

You pause for a moment, knowing that name is familiar.

“Slade like the mercenary that recently assassinated the King of Cintra?” You ask.

“Oh…yeah… maybe not,” Peter says quietly while Jason just grins.

“So, I’m guessing we’re not going to go with outside suggestions for names?” Jason asks with a knowing smile.

“Probably not,” You snort, resting a hand on your still flat stomach, considering various names.

. . .

“And it’s…” Dr. Thompskin moves the wand slowly. “A boy!” She announces.

“Oh man,” You glance over at Jason, who’s holding your hand, his eyes fixated on the monitor. “The advisors are so not going to leave us alone now.”

“Fuck them,” Jason breathes, dismissing the idea of letting the advisors ruin this moment for you too. He kisses you sweetly, moving his other hand to your growing stomach. “We’re going to have a little boy,” He whispers.

You grin, pulling Jason in for another kiss then look back at the monitor, feeling tears of joy well up. You can’t wait for him to get here.

. . .

“Your Majesty,” A lady curtseys while her lord husband bows. “We want to congratulate you!”

“Thank you,” You smile politely, resting a hand on your now present baby bump, while the other rests on your aching lower back.

“We heard it is a boy!” The lady grins then rushes forward, placing her hand on your stomach. “Boys always kick the hardest!” She winks.

You blink, resisting the urge to shove the woman’s hands off you, but instead stiffly smile.

“Yes, it is. He hasn’t started kicking yet, but I’m sure he will soon,” You tell her through clenched teeth as she rubs your stomach.

“Excuse me,” Jason’s voice smoothly cuts in.

“Your Highness,” The lord bows and the lady curtseys, removing her hands from your stomach thankfully.

“My queen is needed elsewhere,” Jason says assertively, pulling a protective arm around your waist to put distance between you and the noble couple.

“Of course, your Majesty,” The couple bows again and Jason guides you back to the head table, his hand rubbing your sore lower back.

Banquets are an annoying necessity to royalty, especially when they are a king’s coronation banquet to an ally kingdom. When you were younger, you didn’t enjoy them much since your parents often bartered you out to dance with handsy princes, but since marrying Jason, you’ve come to enjoy them more.

Any lord or prince who would hope to dance with you is sent away cowering after one look from your husband. Instead, you are given an excuse to dance with Jason all night; however, being pregnant at a banquet brought its own set of headaches.

At five months pregnant, you’ve developed a noticeable baby bump through your dresses. Despite being the queen of the kingdom, your subjects seem to take your pregnancy as an invitation to touch your stomach without permission, give advice and tips (or weird old wives tales), and share as many opinions as they can. Although you are appreciative of your loyal subjects, you also tire faster and you have to pee all the fucking time, so your nerves get quickly shot at banquets.

“How are you doing?” Jason asks, turning you away from any prying eyes by shielding you with his body.

“Oh, you know, tired of people touching my stomach,” You roll your eyes.

Jason frowns.

“We’ve been here long enough, I’ll talk to Dick so we can leave--”

You stop listening to Jason when you feel feel a strange fluttering in your stomach, almost like bubbles. It flutters for a moment then stops. What was that? It didn’t feel painful, just a little strange. You look down at your stomach, questioning your unborn son then it does it again--

Your eyes widen with realization and you snatch Jason’s hand up, placing it where you feel the fluttering.

“What are you--” The fluttering happens again, cutting off Jason’s sentence. His eyes lock with yours, looking for confirmation. “Is that…?” He trails off quietly.

“He’s kicking,” You grin, feeling tears bubble in your eyes.

You can’t help but tear up, this pregnancy making you so emotional that it feels as though you’ll cry at anything.

“Oh my gosh,” Jason grins, moving to place both hands on your stomach as your son kicks again. “Hey, little guy,” Jason whispers.

“He’s definitely in there,” You smile. You giggle as you feel him kick harder at the sound of your voice. “I hate to admit it, but that woman was right, little boys do kick hard.”

Jason laughs, rests his forehead against yours, both of you enjoying the feeling of your son kicking at your hands.

“Everything okay guys?” Dick walks over, oblivious to the moment you two are having. “I saw another person touching Y/N’s stomach and you looked ready to bite their head off--”

You and Jason glance over at Dick with huge grins.

“Am I interrupting something?” Dick raises his eyebrows.

“He’s kicking,” Jason says proudly, looking down at your bump.

Dick’s face lights up.

“Really?” He exclaims. His eyes dart down to your stomach for a moment, his hand raising in excitement but he hesitates, knowing how annoyed you’ve gotten with people touching you without permission.

You roll your eyes-- Dick is not some random stranger trying to touch you. You certainly don’t mind if he wants to feel the baby. You grab his hand and place it on your stomach, his face lighting up with excitement. He waits then there’s another flutter.

“That is so cool!” Dick grins, shifting his hand to feel the baby kick again. “You guys haven’t picked a name, have you?”

“Not yet,” You tell him.

“Well, I personally think Dick Jr. would be a great name.”

“Well, I personally think you’re wrong,” Jason tells him bluntly.

Dick squawks indignantly, making you laugh.

“Come on, Jay, you said something about leaving?” You ask.

Jason glances at Dick.

“Cover for us?”

“Of course,” Dick grins. “But just consider Dick Jr,” He winks playfully.

Jason chuckles, shaking his head in amusement as he loops his arm in yours.

“Dick, I can think about it until the day the baby is born, but it will never happen,” Jason promises.

Dick mumbles something about Jason being unfair, but waves you two away.

“Come on, your Highness,” Jason teases, escorting you from the banquet.

. . .

A few weeks later, you’re relaxing in bed, reading the latest book Jason gave you, Catcher and the Rye, while he gets ready for bed. You feel your son kick, his kicks getting stronger with each day. You smile to yourself, placing your hand where you can feel his feet kicking you and continue reading.

The bathroom door opens, revealing your shirtless husband who crawls across the bed, his head laying next to your hip while his hands rub your stomach.

“He’s kicking tonight,”You tell him.

Jason lights up.

“Really?” He asks.

“Mmhm,” You shift his hands to where he last kicked and watch Jason grin at the feeling of tiny feet kicking.

“You know, we are going to need to come up with a name,” Jason says, leaning down to kiss your stomach. “This guy will be here in a few more months.” He kisses your stomach again then crawls up the bed to lay back against the pillows, pulling you against his chest. Jason kisses the top of your head, leaning over to read the page you’re on.

“I know…” You tell him.

You and Jason had been tossing around baby names, but nothing was sticking. Neither of you wanted to name your son after anyone in your family and no one had yet to offer a name both of you liked. Naming a person is hard.

“Have you thought of anything else?” You ask, abandoning your book to cuddle with your husband instead.

“How about Liam?” Jason offers, taking a hold of your hand and playing with your fingers.

You wrinkle your nose.

“I knew a Liam in school who was a little shit.”

Jason chuckles, kissing the side of your head.

“Okay, not Liam.”

Neither of you wanted an extremely common name, but you didn’t want to do a strange name either. Finding the middle ground was difficult.

“How about Nathaniel?” You offer.

“Well, that would depend,” Jason starts. “I like that name, but it’s kind of a mouthful, so rather he or his friends… or my brothers would give him a nickname,” Jason rolls his eyes, probably thinking of Dick’s fondness of nicknames. “It would likely be Nathan or Daniel… or Nate. Do you like any of those names?”

“They’re fine names, but I’d prefer those as middle names,” You admit.

“I agree… How about Taylor?” Jason offers.

“Taylor Todd?” You repeat.

Jason giggles behind you.

“If you say it fast enough, it sounds like tater tot.”

“Taylor Todd, Taylor Todd, Taylortodd, Tayortodd, Taytortot,” You start laughing. “It kind of does!”

“So, not that one,” Jason decides. “We suck at this,” He admits.

You chuckle, leaning into him, your copy of Catcher and the Rye catching your eye on the nightstand.

“How about Holden?” You ask.

Jason looks down at you for a moment and follows your eyes to the book, pondering the name.

“Holden?” He repeats. “Holden Todd. I actually like that a lot.”

“It would be suiting for us to name our kid after a book,” You chuckle, recalling how you and Jason finally connected with each other years ago.

Jason grins, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your temple.

“Yeah, it would,” He places his hands on your stomach. “Hey, Holden.”

Holden kicks again, making tears bubble in your eyes.

. . .

Your pregnancy hasn’t been the worst. Sure, you had some morning sickness and been more emotional than you’re used to, but you haven’t gotten any strange cravings, your mood swings aren’t too severe, and you haven’t been overly bloated.

Despite the relatively smooth pregnancy, at month eight of the pregnancy, you’re ready for Holden to be here. Your back and feet are sore, you're exhausted all the time, and you’re tired of not being able to see your toes. Also, you now have the bladder of a squirrel. A squirrel. You just want to meet your son.

You’re tired of going to banquets when you’re pregnant. The elaborate dresses you have to wear to the banquets are already a lot, but peeing in said dresses every thirty minutes? Yeah, you’re tired of being pregnant.

Just like all the other banquets, you know random people are going to touch you and your stomach, ask invasive questions, and try to tell you what to name your baby. You’re probably going to get overwhelmed by all the smells and people then get very irritable, but this is the last banquet you and Jason have to attend for a while, so you’ll put on your kind queen face and behave.

As servers bring in another round of food, you head swims from all the smells. You grimace, trying to ignore the overwhelming smells while listening to whichever lord ramble to you and Jason. Jason wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. Instead of focusing on the varied food smells melding together, you try to focus on how Jason smells.

Focusing on the fresh scent helps some, but soon, even Jason’s familiar smell blends to the cocktail of food around you, making your head spin even more.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” You tell him quietly, rubbing a hand over your swollen stomach.

“I can come with you,” Jason offers, taking your hand as he goes to follow you.

“No, stay and socialize. I’ll be okay,” You promise.

Jason looks reluctant, but agrees. You kiss his cheek and excuse yourself from your company then slip onto a side balcony. The instant fresh air eases your headache, making you sigh with relief as you lean against the large, stone railing. You kick off your shoes, toeing them to the side and out from under your long dress. Holden kicks, making you chuckle.

“Nothing smelled good in there, huh bud?” You ask, fondly rubbing your stomach.

You’re so excited for Holden to be born. You can’t wait to see what he looks like, to hold him, and know that he’s really here.

You’re excited to be a parent and you’re even more excited to watch your husband become a parent. Jason’s relationship with his birth father was terrible to say the least. Meeting Bruce was one of the first strokes of luck Jason came across in his life, even if it was in the form of King Bruce Wayne catching twelve year old Jason stealing wheels from the royal carriage.

While Jason is also excited to meet Holden, his anxiety about becoming a father is no secret to you. Despite being nothing like his father, Jason is still afraid of becoming him. You know Jason will never be like his father. Jason is going to be a fantastic dad who is going to love Holden so well.

While daydreaming about the day your son will finally be born, you didn’t notice the balcony door open.

“Well, what do we have here?” That voice sends chills down your spine.

You spin around to come face to face with Roman Sionis. Roman was one of the few people you were unfortunately very familiar with prior to your marriage with Jason. His kingdom strong armed your parents' kingdom into an alliance, meaning Roman often made appearances at your family’s banquets. He’s always made you incredibly uncomfortable, even when you were little.

“The Queen, knocked up with no King to protect her,” He hisses, taking a step toward you.

You feel your chest tighten. Jason’s war with Roman was no small ordeal. He nearly destroyed Roman’s kingdom, forcing the man to rebuild from the ground up. You hadn’t heard from Roman in so long that you’d figured his kingdom was destroyed, but if he’s at a banquet at the Russo kingdom, then that doesn’t mean anything good either.

“So, what are we going to do?” Roman asks, staring at you menacingly.

He takes another step. You step backwards but your back hits the railing. Roman steps closer. Your hand quickly covers your stomach, protectively.

“King Jason has left his poor, defenseless wife out here alone with me,” Roman steps into your space, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “And,” His hand lays on your stomach, making your skin crawl. “She’s pregnant with the precious heir to the throne,” He hisses.

Your heart races as you try to figure out your options. Roman has backed you into a corner. While you have training, unfortunately, that training doesn’t account for all the extra weight in your stomach. Your center of gravity is completely thrown right now. Any hit you try to land will be uncoordinated and likely easily blocked by Roman.

“Well, I guess I need to teach the King a lesson about taking better care of his things,” Roman slips a dagger from his pants and your eyes widen.

“Stop--” You say, finally finding your voice but Roman pushes a hand against your mouth forcing you back farther.

He presses the tip of the dagger into your stomach. Thankfully your dress is thick enough that the blade doesn’t puncture the fabric, but it’s not armor. If Roman puts any pressure, he’ll stab Holden.

Your arms shake against the banister, your whole body pinned by Roman’s. A layer of tears sting in your eyes.

“Sh, don’t worry,” His face hardens. “It’ll only hurt for a second. Maybe your precious King will learn a thing or two about what it’s like to lose something precious.”

You feel him press the blade harder against you, your heart pounding in your chest. Holden kicks the hand you're holding tightly against your stomach, snapping you out of your stupor.

No. He’s not going to hurt your baby. You refuse to let him.

You shove Roman back as hard as you can, then throw all your body weight into a hard punch to his face. Your hand instantly screams in pain and you nearly fall over, not prepared for your extra weight to fling you forward.

“You bitch!” Roman yells, wiping blood from his nose.

He runs toward you, but there’s someone else tackling him to the ground before he comes close to you. Relief floods your system when you realize Jason is on top of Roman, beating his face to a bloody pulp.

“Stay,” Jason punches him between each word. “The. Fuck. Away. From. My. Wife!” He screams.

Roman collapses backwards, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his face bleeds profusely. Jason stumbles to his feet then quickly rushes toward you.

“Are you hurt?” He demands, cradling your face.

Tears spill over but you shake your head, your brain catching up with the terrifying event. Jason pulls close, holding you tight as you sob against his shoulder, so relieved that Holden isn’t hurt.

“Come on,” Jason whispers to you, kissing your head. “Let’s go home.”

Despite the gentleness in his voice, you can feel him trembling with anger.

That night, you curl up against Jason, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. He reaches one hand down, rubbing his thumb over your stomach.

“Thank you,” You murmur to him, not specifying what you’re thanking him for.

The way Jason’s arm momentarily tightens let’s you know that he knows what you’re referring to.

“Nothing is going to happen to either one of you while I’m around,” Jason promises, pressing a kiss to your head.

You smile, curling against Jason’s chest, knowing he will do anything to protect you and Holden.

. . .

A month later, you’re looking over the early draft for new kingdom policy in Jason’s office when you feel a gush of water.

“Jason…” You say quietly then a contraction hits, one much harder than the smaller ones you’ve been experiencing all day.

You're bent over, holding your stomach, your other hand gripping the side of his desk. Jason is instantly on his feet squatting in front of you, not sure how to help.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks, helping you lower into a chair.

Another contraction makes you grab your stomach, your eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you take a breath.

“My water broke,” You manage, feeling another smaller contraction.

Jason’s eyes widen at the implication, but springs into action.

. . .

Ten hours of labor later and you’re collapsed on the bed, your back pressed to Jason’s chest as you hold Holden close to your chest. He’s sleeping peacefully, his eyelids fluttering. You press another kiss to the top of his head, already covered in dark hair.

“He has your eyes,” You quietly tell Jason, stroking your fingers over Holden’s nose. “And your head, full of hair.”

Jason grins, gently rubbing a hand down Holden’s back.

“He’s got your nose,” Jason points out. “And eye shape.”

You smile fondly at your son, your chest brimming with love and affection.

“We made a pretty cute kid,” Jason grins.

You turn to look at Jason, kissing him softly.

“Yeah we did.”

Welcome to the world, Holden Daniel Todd, you think to yourself. It’s a scary place, but nothing is going to happen to you, not while your dad and I are around.

You press another kiss to the top of Holden’s head and feel Jason’s arms tighten around you.

“I love you,” He whispers into your hair.

You turn, kissing him again.

“I love you too,” Then lay your head back against Jason’s chest.

Jason shifts so he’s holding you more closely against him and one hand lays on Holden’s back. You’ve never felt more loved and safe in your life. As another bout of happiness warms your chest, you fall asleep to the sound of your husband’s heartbeat and the feeling of your baby breathing against your chest.

Shout out to anyone who catches that Witcher reference. Hope you enjoyed! Request are closed until I am caught up again. I’m already working on the next request, hopefully it’ll be done sooner than this one was!

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sanktagenyas · 3 years

Text

ok so i finally watched those last three episodes. i said buckle up it’s time to suffer and by the saints did i ever suffer. i just knew the darklina scenes were gonna be rough to watch. it was already rough reading the scenes as they were written in book one. i mean the darkling just shines with his intelligence in that chapter, doesn’t he? threaten the man she loves? well the other man she loves? check! tell her she betrayed you when the reality is you’ve been telling half truths all along and didn’t trust her to make her choices? check!

buddy this isn’t how you apologize. in the show itself it’s pretty much the same back and forth that leads nowhere. you lied to me! you ran off because my mother told you i’m not who i say i am without giving me a chance to explain! you’ve been lying or bending the truth since we met! YOU TURNED YOUR BACK ON YOUR COUNTRY!

by that point i was just like chill the fuck out man you’re about to decimate many many countrymen and you know it. i loved that the stop they made was all about him getting revenge on the man who attempted on alina’s life, that was very unhinged of him and i was HERE for that shit but everyone else in that port? every other woman and child and man on that port? not all of them played a hand and he just went ahead and had them slaughtered without batting an eye. and it’s not like he has some kind of safeguard for grishas does he? how does he know there’s no grisha wherever he’s expanding the fold? some could be in hiding because they fled, because they didn’t want to serve the king. oh well he doesn’t really care about those people does he? we all saw how he spoke about those deserters to arken.

also he could NOT handle alina’s harsh truths about how his own actions are harming grisha close to him even though he claims that every choice he’s made was to protect them and empower them. when she brought up genya i was like yes you better look down you motherfucker! you did this to her, you delivered to her abuser over and over.

we saw his backstory, some of it and he acted out of grief and rage. he toyed with magic he did not understand and of course he didn’t intend this but his reaction to the fold once it was all said and done was definitely foreshadowing what he was to become. i created something he said defiantly. you created something you don’t have control over. and now he’s done it again somehow, he’s got brand new creatures following him at the end.

i actually felt for young aleksander for losing the woman he loved but the arrogance and the recklessness he showed there is still the same arrogance he has now. he thinks he has thought his plan through but that’s just working off the assumption that no one opposes him ever otherwise he went ahead and put a target on grisha’s backs. he definitely put a target on alina’s back although i know that was never the plan. the fact that when he has a perfectly good remedy to the fold, a chance to actually fix his mistakes once and for all he turns its back and decides to make it ten times worse, chooses ruling via fear over hope is jusr a sign of how far he’s gone. and he didn’t waver once not even when alina was pleading with him that he could have made her his equal, that they could have stayed together and made ravka safe together if only he gave her a choice, he was still manipulative and lied to her face.

at this point i just don’t think his love for her outweighs his belief that he knows what’s best for ravka, what’s the best way to protect grisha. because he doesn’t care about anyone who isn’t grisha at all. he was persecuted like so many others. he won a war for a king centuries and that king turned on him. i’m sure he’s looking at the current one knowing that once grisha have exhausted their uses that king will turn on him too. the fold is just a different kind of war and if he wins that one for the king the darkling already knows what the outcome will be.

so to summarize this whole darkling commentary here i understand where he is coming from, i understand the fear and the rage and the desperation. it’s not working out for him though. he’s feared but he’s alone. for every ivan there’s a zoya. for every man who’s blindly loyal to him there’ll be someone rising up to oppose him eventually. and if it’s not his own people it’ll be non grisha folks. he has the second army working for him still, but he is alone. and that’s no one’s fault but his own because alina was willing to work with him.

speaking of alina i loved every second of her rising up to oppose him telling him she never needed him. she may have fallen in love with him but she never actually needed him to be powerful, she only needed to free herself of the restraints she’d put on her powers out of fear. i also thought that the way she freed herself of his control made more sense than it did in the books.

i have hope for darklina still despite all that’s happened despite how positively full of rage ans resentment she is because she still loves him, she still listened when he pleaded with her that they needed each other if they wanted to deal with the fold. of course there’s the slight issue of him lying directly and manipulating her to do his bidding and of course the fact that he took her power from her. the only thing that was her and he perverted it for his own gain. i think it just might take more than a year for her to forgive him i’m afraid. i don’t necessarily see a path to redemption right now but reconciliation? alina can be merciful, she can be forgiving. i think all it would really take is just one selfless act, one show of good faith. if he keeps pursuing her and mal and keep trying to rob her of her agency however i don’t see them ever having any kind of closure.

i don’t think i need to expand much more on my thoughts on malina. i’m not feeling what the show wants me to feel. i’m not seeing them as these soulmates that belong together. to me they’d be better of as best friends. the darkling didn’t make her strong he tried to steal her strength for his own use but mal doesn’t make her strong either, she relies too much on him. mal actually was pretty damn resourceful when left on his own. i unfortunately couldn’t say the same for alina. co-dependant love is not better than toxic love and darklina’s toxicity (most of it) comes from the lies and from the darkling repeatedly choosing for alina. he’s not brave enough to just tell her what he intends to do and let her decide whether to align herself with him so he lies and he deceives instead. not much he can do to undo it now but he could help actually destroy the fold if he wanted to. i don’t know if he’ll ever come around to it though.

the darkling visiting mal with the sole purpose to rub it in his face that alina and he are immortal and so eventually mal will die and then he could just swoop in was just peak comedy. the way he delivered that line too you’d think he was talking to an insect not another human being. it was brilliant. mal echoing that same line but ending it with “the past will do it for me” was pretty good, nice quip i’ll give mal that but also terribly ironic when you see the ending.

team crows remains the highlight for me. kaz and inej and their unspoken love for each other is just killing me. i can tell there are personal traumas there that i don’t know about (gotta read those damn books and quick) what with kaz not being able to help tend to her wounds and the fact that there were moments were i could see there was maybe a kiss about to happen or an embrace (at the end when kaz let alina go free and made a deal not to rat her out) and it just didn’t happen. there’s a story there about kaz and his distaste for being touched/touching others. jesper is just here to look pretty, shoot shit and be the most charming person in any crowd. i’m in love. also someone give him his goat back for the love of god.

nina and mathias were entertaining for sure. with all that banter and all these jabs i should have really seen them falling for one another coming. i felt like it was perhaps a bit rushed but i guess there’s nothing like almost freezing to death together to make you reconsider your views. you know the whole saving of lives thing can really bond you. the waffle date was adorable. was not expecting nina to just brand herself a traitor for him and she’s damn lucky fyedor came on that mission because i’m pretty sure ivan wouldn’t even have offered to keep her name out of the report. she and mathias ended their story both heartbroken and separated. i really hate that he thinks this was all intentional. really hope she’ll join the crows on their next con job. and i also cannot wait to see the look on heleen’s face when kaz buys inej’s freedom.

i was not at all expecting zoya to turn against the darkling. that’s what happens when you turned down one of your fuck buddies, aleksander they get bitter and then they leave you to be eaten alive by volcras. ok but in all seriousness she did the right thing and i hope she finds her family even if they’re not alive so she can say her goodbyes.

oh and completely unrelated but since i talked about heights of comedy before i really need more sassy! darkling in my life. he is everything. that quip about his speech. the way he said adorable like he was gagging on the word. him just letting david be his dorkiest self and raise his hand before speaking, that little put upon sigh. i love sassy! darkling almost as much as jealous and petty darkling which is saying a lot. just more of that. it humanizes him, i’m tired of villains who are forever stoic and stone face.

i think i about covered everyone and everything that happened in those remaining episodes. all in all shadow and bone is an amazing adaptation, really faithful to the first book. they made some changes to the characters which in turn changed some dynamics (alina actually admitted she wanted to be with the darkling. out loud. to his face. book!alina would never and book!darkling would never cry in front of her.) but it made for surprising viewing. it also made me become even more attached to some characters (the darkling let’s be real) which made me care more which is why i was livid when they started making a lot of terrible no good choices.

i was just really blown away by this show and the way the grishaverse was brought to life and above all major props to the actors who all just seemed to be born to play their respective roles.

#shadow and bone spoilers #sab spoilers #darklina #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #inej ghafa #nina zenik #mathias helvar #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #zoya nazyalensky

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aprilrph · 4 years

Text

petals for armor 🌺 sentence starters

part 1.

‘ rage is a quiet thing. ’

‘ you think that you've tamed it, but it's just lying in wait. ’

‘ there's so many ways to give in. ’

‘ how to draw the line between wrath and mercy? ’

‘ if i had seen my reflection as something more precious, he would've never. ’

‘ if my child needed protection from a fucker like that man. ’

‘ i’d sooner gut him. ’

‘ 'cause nothing cuts like a mother. ’

‘ wrap yourself in petals. ’

‘ wrap yourself in petals for armor. ’

‘ don't nobody tell me that god don't have a sense of humor. ’

‘ now that i finally wanna live, the ones i love are dying. ’

‘ it tastes so bitter on my tongue. ’

‘ the truth’s a killer. ’

‘ but i can’t leave it alone. ’

‘ who else am i gonna lose before i am ready? ’

‘ and who's gonna lose me? ’

‘ on the walls of my home, there are signs that i'm alone. ’

‘ talk to my dog, he don't mind. ’

‘ home is where i'm feminine, smells like citrus and cinnamon. ’

‘ i’m not lonely, i am free. ‘

‘ but if i let you in, you would never wanna leave. ’

‘ we bleed holy water. ’

‘ so why you creeping 'round here? ’

‘ strange you're not a threat to me. ’

‘ don't you know that i'm a moon in daylight? ’

‘ it always starts as something so simple and innocent but too much of anything, you never know how to quit. ’

‘ just keep on suckin' on the memory of him. ’

‘ we keep our distance now. ’

‘ i try not to think about what happened last night outside his house. ’

‘ take the elephant by the hand and hold it. ’

‘ it's cruel to tame a thing that don't know its strength. ’

‘ but better to walk beside it than underneath. ’

‘ don’t look in my eyes, i feel a sudden desire. ’

part 2.

‘ every morning I wake up from a dream of you holding me underwater. ’

‘ is that a dream or a memory? ’

‘ pretty cool i’m still alive. ’

‘ i beat it like a dead horse. ‘

‘ oh, i stayed with you too long. ’

‘ sometimes it's good to be the bigger person but i'm so small i can't compare. ’

‘ i got what i deserved, i was the other woman first. ’

‘ when i said goodbye, I hope you cried. ’

‘ little wrinkle by your eye i never noticed 'til right now. ’

‘ i can remember the wolves at your heels. ’

‘ you never questioned why she is here. ’

‘ all of your good and your evil, well, babe, you can leave it with me.’

‘ i am beside you, famine or fire. ’

‘ who could take your place? who could take mine? ’

‘ none could take your place, none could take mine. ’

‘ if there's resistance, it makes you stronger, it's not the end. ’

‘ make it your friend. ’

‘ it's the right time to come alive, baby, if you wanna try. ’

‘ tell yourself it ain't over yet. ’

‘ it's the right time to get out of your head.’

‘ i have seen your body and i have seen your beauty. ’

‘ so what do i care and what do you care if i grow? ’

‘ i think of all the wilted women who crane their necks to reach a window.’

‘ i myself was a wilted woman, drowsy in a dark room, forgot my roots, now watch me bloom. ’

‘ i will not compare other beauty to mine. ’

‘ i will not return to where i once was. ’

‘ and now i can't seem to remember why we ever felt we had to say goodbye. ’

‘ i can't feel your energy no more. ’

‘ i spent the weekend at home again, drawing circles on the floor. ’

‘ i just wanna talk about it, i know i freaked you out. ’

‘ sorry for freaking out. ’

part 3.

‘ the opposite of love is fear. ’

‘ wait till i open up to you. ’

‘ if i want pure love, must stop acting so tough. ’

‘ if i want your love, i’ve got to open up. ’

‘ a deeper way to understand the line between who you are and who i am. ’

‘ cause to let you in, is true compromise. ’

‘ guess you really got to call your own bluff if you want pure love. ’

‘ my feet won't touch the ground beneath me. ’

‘ i'm flying but i'm not afraid to fall. ’

‘ if anybody asks it, i’m taken. ’

‘ it's easy to see how people stop believing, 'cause everyone i know's got a broken heart. ’

‘ though i'm still picking up my pieces, he makes me wanna give it another shot. ’

‘ would i do it all again? yeah, in a second. might've taken thirty years, but i was always on my way to him. ’

‘ do you taste old shame when you lick my wounds? ’

‘ i feel redeemed in spite of you. ’

‘ could you be the silver lining like sugar on the rim?’

‘ you took me by surprise. ’

‘ i'm not afraid of the dark side. ’

‘ maybe we just had to feel it so we know the difference. ’

‘ 'cause it just gets sweeter by the day. ’

‘ how lucky i feel to be in my body again. ’

‘ how lovely i feel not to have to pretend. ’

‘ you wanna look inside of me and just watch me bloom. ’

‘ i’m alive in spite of me. ’

‘ watch me while i bloom. ’

‘ baby you got a lot of shit to learn. ’

‘ i don’t want to shut you out. ’

‘ i don't wanna rush around, or slow down. ’

‘ i wanna make it crystal clear that i won't give in to the fear. ’

‘ i remember standing on the edge, closing my eyes, counting to three. ’

‘ here we go, gonna risk it again. let's hope it's the last time.’

‘ we don’t know how this could end. ’

‘ i’m still right here. ’

#memes #rp meme #lyric meme #sentence memes #sentence starters

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO Origins, “Conn”

Ok guys, sorry about how late this one is. Writing for a group of creatures that don’t understand spoken language or time is kind of a bitch. I tried to make it seem alien as possible, bu it was hard for me and I don’t know how well it gets across

Was so very dark and he was so very alone.

His sails waved and undulated in the vast darkness, but no light caressed their surface to allow hmi to retreat.

So he was here, in the never-ending quiet, he had once thought he would like the quiet but now determined that was not the case. He needed that warble of background sound, the thoughts filling up his head, however, he just wanted to be the quiet one.

He wanted his thoughts private where others could not poke and prod and see his bitterness towards them

He didn’t have a name, just images and feelings associated with his being. When everyone thought of him, they grew uncomfortable, quiet, and almost exasperated with his presence. His name was unwanted and discomfort.

Perhaps that is why he had gone and done what he did, perhaps it was his own subconscious thoughts that led him to this moment, for not even he had known until it was too late. Travelling at thousands of miles per hour, side by side with his colony, he had taken the turn far to shallow, and so his momentum had carried him off into the darkness. As he went he remembered hearing the distant fading of their voices back into the blackness.

And then there had been only silence.

And for once he had his thoughts to himself.

IT scared him, and he turned using up the last bit of his solar energy to push him back towards the star where his colony had last existed. He was so scared.

And so hopeless.

It took him one entire year to return to the star, and by that time his colony was long gone, likely thankful for his timely disappearance when they wanted it most. He tried to follow them, tried to guess where they might go, but it was no use, the universe was big, and he was so very small.

There was no reason for him to stay here, and he took the next microrift that opened up to him. He had no idea where it would take him, and he didn’t much care. There was always a chance it would dump him out in the middle of space with no way to get anywhere else, but the starborn knew the rifts, and they knew, that for some reason, they tended to empty out close to other stars.

So he took the rift, and when he did, he sensed a wave of powerful blue light.

IT charged his body with energy and allowed him to move quickly around the system, where a bright blue emissions nebulae seemed to surround everything.

And that is when he heard them, the distant murmuring of inner thoughts. He followed them until the voices grew louder and louder and louder hoping beyond hope that they might be his. He broke from the clouds, and knew immediately they were not, their thoughts were too strange, though they were of the same type as him.

He would have turned away, but they too sensed him.

They were not pleased with his presence.

Two of his ribbons were completely torn off that day, but the queen took mercy and let him stay. She could see his long years of solitude inside his head, and would no mind one more worker for her colony. Of course, he would never be allowed mating privileges of any sort,, but he could just as well gather minerals for her

He hated it, and they could easily sense his hatred.

ON multiple occasions he was accused of trying to harbor hidden thoughts and false secrets.

They were right, his time in the black had made him cold and indifferent to them. While he took comfort in the noise, he was used to the silence. And so he lived for an unknown amount of time, as a drifter, a vagrant hanging abut this unaccepting colony becoming more and more ostracized every day by his secret yearnings.

Year passed, and they always stayed in the same place, rotating around the same blue star with the same blue nebulae around them. He despised all of it. He wanted to travel, to see the rest of the galaxy, but the others would not have it, and they despised him for his restlessness. They would not leave their comfortable home. They were not nomads, but neither could he leave again, he was too afraid of being alone in the silence to go without him.

So he grew bittern in the bright light of their giant blue star.

Not his star, their star.

He was floating about the outer permitted of the colony one day, keeping just out of easy thought range when he felt it, or heard it, or sensed it. It was, a horrible discomfort, strange and alien for a moment he wondered if he was dying. It was like the pull of gravity was trying to suck his basins out of his head. His eyes throbbed, and his insides churned where they should not have done so.

He felt as the entire colony looked out in confusion towards the source of the voice.

Please no no, I can’t pass out I can’t pass out. I’ll die.

Behind him the colony erupted in confusion.

Conn perked up listening to the sounds he had never heard and understanding the strange language based upon those sounds without ever trying. He was, enveloped in a mind that was strange and sticky, and tangled and confused and frightened. He could feel bodily sensations that a starborn had never felt before.

Pain

The mind flickered.

No, no.

Oh no.

He shot off into the nebulae chasing the sound ribbons billowing at his back as the others called for him to stop. He had no idea what that was.

Though that was a lie.

This was a… human.

Another creature. He could see flashes of images by colors he had never seen before and through eyes so different from his. The strange feeling stirred him up inside, confused him and thrilled him at the same time.

The voice was getting louder.

He broke from the cloud pausing at what he saw.

A strange creature vaguely starborn in shape, but wrapped in so much strange and alien material. IT rotated violently through the space.

Can’t keep it, closed.

He could feel the hand pressing tight over a tear in the fabric, knew that the creature was going to die even as it began slipping away.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, but he slid forward even as the creatures mind was fading out. Atmosphere was leaking from the suit, and he had to place his hand over it to stop. The human spun into him, and they both rotated for a few moments as he got his bearings, finally stopping with a burst of energy as they exited the nebulae.

He could hear voices behind him. He could hear their thoughts rising in anger for what he was doing, but he didn’t care.

He waited holding the creature as it wallowed in darkness.

They wanted him to get rid of it, but he didn’t want to listen.

It was far to interesting to get rid of.

How am I still alive?

Or am I alive?

Is this what the afterlife is like, floating in eternal blackness forever with no sense of time or space.

Wait , no, you should probably open your eyes first dipshit. I think I see something

He felt the creature open its eyes, watched as the strange scene unfolded before it, and his own face staring back at it, white with black eyes, thousands of ribbons trailing from behind him. His hands gripped tighter to the creature, and through it’s mind he could feel the pressure of his own hands.

Mother Fuck!

Holy shit, what is that, what is it doing.

Why did it save my life, what is happening?

It’s thoughts washed over him like waves. Warm memories, cold memories, sad one angry ones frightened ones. He could feel the sun on it’s back in a way that he had never experienced the sun before.

He leaned his head closer face bumping against the mask.

wait , how am I still…

The creature’s hand brushed over his.

It saved my life. But why.

He knew what the creature looked like under there, strangely like him, though it’s skin was darker. He rested a hand against the visor, almost wishing to touch it. It did the same, he could feel it trailing its hand upward to rest over his.

Could it hear him?

He didn’t think so, it acted like it couldn’t .

It needed sound to hear.

The inside of it’s head was silent, even if surrounded by a thousand others. He wanted to be like that so badly. Wanted to be with his own thoughts even as a torrent of sound raged around him.

He turned to the side as other voices interrupted him demanding he put the creature back, demanding he get rid of it.

They wanted nothing to do with it’s strangely silent thoughts, the way it couldn’t hear them. They wanted nothing to do with its awe or how it felt heat and cold. They wanted nothing to do with its colors and its pain. He could feel them looming up behind him, a massive interconnected hive mind that wish nothing more than to crush the creature’s consciousness…. He had been threatened by that before, and it was not a fate he would recommend to anyone/

What is this?

The creature had no idea what they were planning.

He turned to look at it.

His brethren were getting closer.

He parted his lips in a smile.

Wow…. don’t don’t do that. That is…. Uh…. creepier than I would like.

But still it reached up a hand and placed it on his face.

I wish I knew what it felt like?

They were coming for it, encroaching on all sides ready to crush its mind. What was he to do? But yes, that is when he heard its companions.

The human remained blissfully unaware as he pulled the human closer.

He had to save it, and so he grabbed it by the arms, and pushed it back into the nebulae. He felt it’s surprise and it’s fear, how it pressed it’s fingers against the suit, and then he fele the anger and fear of his own race as they came bearing down on him.

Their minds enveloped him.

***

They were angry at him for not killing it, for not killing the abomination that was the thing with the silent mind, but the mind was not silent, it was so lively and warm. But it was deaf that was all, and he liked that about the creature. They wanted it gone;, they wanted it gone for hiding its thoughts, and he wanted it to stay for just such reason.

And with the creature’s thoughts, with its strange ability, he walled off his plan, distracted them with other imaginings to hide his intentions, and then he followed it finding it encases inside meta, where atmosphere and gravity was heavy. The environment in which it survived scared him for he could be crushed within the gravitational field.

But still he stayed.

He wondered, if like the humans he could speak? And it would hear.

It was very difficult to form a coherent thought when all the other alien thoughts bombarded him. He felt pleasure and pain and anger and exhaustion all at once, until his insides were nothing more than a jumbled mess of confusion.

It took him hours to find the creature, and when he did, he did his best to communicate. He rested his hand against its giant metal hive its ‘space ship’ and tried to get it to hear him.

And for the first time.

He used the memory of the sounds.

“Adam.”

He used the memory felt its confusion, felt its pain, and heard himself through the sound in its head.

***

He had committed an act of treason against them. He had harbored secret thoughts, and for that he was going to pay. He was going to die, but that was only after they took care of the thing that had corrupted his mind. He had been dragged away from the ship, dragged away after meeting the creature face to face, feeling the cold of its own hands through it’s skin. He had felt the fear and the excitement.

But now it might all be over. They did not like what he had done, and this time he had committed one last egregious mistake. He had turned against them and sought out his own private thoughts in a way that only heretics did.

He was an abomination.

But for some reason he was ok with that.

He had always been an aberrant hole in the way things were done, even when he was firstborn.

A lot of his kind had openly wondered about what was wrong with him. Many wondered,or blamed his behavior on the circumstances of his birth.

He had been born in the darkness between stars on their journey across the vastness, while the others had been away searching for minerals He was the last born to the queen before she died, her body going limp even as he floated at her side. And so he had listened to her go silent, and been left along in the darkness and quiet for an unknown period of time before the others returned.

They did not measure time like humans did.

That is why they put up with him for so long, because it was their fault no one had been there in his first moments of life. No one had been there to dispose of the suspended corpse by which rested. The males were strictly reprimanded for their absence, for it was their job to take care of the queen and her children when they were born while the females foraged.

They needed to forage twice as much to raise the youngling queen who had been born in preparation for the old queen’s death.

Perhaps it was the young males thinking that their queen was not being well-fed enough that led them to tray away when he was born, but either way it did not matter. Something had gone wrong with him, something that scared a lot of his brethren.

For he had been born in the dark and the silence filled with nothing for an unknown amount of time.

He wondered if that was the reason he chased silent sound, and perhaps that was the reason the human followed him, for it too was strange for its kind.

The others could have not asked for a more opportune time to crush its mind.

But of course he could not let that happen.

He had never fought in his life, for there was no fighting with the star born, but somehow seeing into the human’s head helped him to block out the crushing weight of force which was slowly cracking its consciousness like glass.

And somehow he won.

***

He could feel the human’s anger, it was hot and warm, but in that same way it was anger the mind behind it was still softer than any mind he had known before. Starborn aren’t known for their ability to feel empathy. They don’t need to since they can read each other’s thoughts. But this human, it felt for him though it knew nothing anything. Despite being angry he could intrude on its thoughts.

He had felt real anger before, and this was not it.

This was blustering anger.

As far as he understood this mind was too soft to produce real anger on command, though that anger was hidden deep inside

And despite the fear that he sometimes trailed with him, Conn found understanding and empathy on a crew of people who couldn’t even read his mind, he found a name that was not annoyance or pity.

HE found a name with sounds, and a name associated with a changing landscape.hew as never pity, sometimes he was annoyance, other ties he was amusement, sometimes he was indifference, and often his name was friendship.

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grimoire-of-seven · 4 years

Note

Because I’m an angsty bitch, could you do a head cannons from the seven with a terminally ill MC? Or at least really, really sick. Thanks! Love your writing 💕

PROMPT: “If Only We Could Have More Time…”

Rating: SFWWords: 600-700Characters: Demon Boys + MC / Gender-Neutral ReaderNotes: Hi! I tried not to make the situation all much worse by means of pressing too hard with the subject in a sense, but to end it with something both parties could cherish. I hope you will all enjoy it!~Oh! And this is written in their perspective.~

Lucifer

Shit..Shit..Shit..

F*ck..

Screwsaving face, the Avatar of Pride himself soon began sprinting through the palehallway, missing to register himself by the lobby as his eyes were fixated bythe red beaming light under the sign; emergency room.

It was imprudentto put his phone to silent at his meeting with the prince of Devildom. Heshould have known better not to… otherwise, he would have read your messagehalf an hour ago, their voice replaying in his mind as his feet quicken itspace.

“Heyumm.. Luci? I know itis a bad time to call you.. but umm.. I’ll be having my operation again in anhour according to the doctor. I hope you’ll take it easy with those meetings and take care!”

“I’msorry sir but you could not enter from this point on. I’m afraid you have towait at the waiting area.”

“But Ineed to see them! Are they already there?” The light-bringer tried to reasonwith the man in a white coat but to no avail. His fears only heightened whenthe doctor reminded him of the day’s operation and how it could grave it couldgo further..

“They do tend to get worse every cycle..”“Why?”“Because each infusion gets harder and the doctors say that Ishould expect that I’ll get weaker every moment.”“Then why place yourself in that situation..?”

Thosebitter words clung into the air as the embodiment of Pride could no longer holdhis composure as one of the nurses by the station assisted him to take a seat.With his fingers entwined together, letting his chin rest on it, his feetclearly indicate how uneased his spirit was as the sole continues to move upand down as though it were to pounce to the emergency room.

Lookingthrough his surroundings, there were also people under his shoes. Hands claspedtogether with their forehead close to it, mumbling under their breath as thoughthey are talking to…

God?

Prayingat every second spared before the judgment on the other door. And…

Should he do the same?

“Ma’amChase?”“Yes?”“Yourdaughter is doing fine now. The operation was a success thanks to Dr. Pomatter.”“Oh thankGod! Can I go see her now?”“Yes, ma’am!This way.”

Thank God?They are thanking… Father?

He hadresented any forms of communications within the Celestial Realm, only forming aprofessional relation to Simeon and Luke under Diavolo’s rule yet… why are histhoughts claiming otherwise?

No.Why should he ask for mercy?He is Lucifer.The eldest and the leader of his pack.A fallen angel to whom prowess never left, despite his glorytainted by the burning sulfur.Yet here he was, incapable to put Death far back on his drawingboard for picking his human for its next kill.Unable to take his human out of it…

Takinghis focus away from the mortals that surrounded the waiting area, thetelevision played a soap opera and with no remote to control its channels, itwas projecting a tragic scene with the woman dead on her lover’s arms.

What if their life would be cut shorter than it already is becauseof this operation?

Could he ever digest the thought that within those times they weretogether, he did not spend it wisely because…Because he let his pride in between? Because he considered hisreputation more than..

Closinghis eyes once more, taking in a series of deep breaths, he, the Avatar ofPride, has always seen the display of empathy as a visage of helplessness andit was their little exchange student that demonstrated it to him otherwise.

Nonetheless,with his human weak.. why should he too, present himself in the same conditionjust because of his worries?

It wouldnot be right.He doesnot want to see his human frown just so his face is.

Maybe there is something he could do.. He thought to himself. Ifhe could not bail his human out of the cold-lighted room, perhaps he could maketheir stay un-cold. Something that could make him see them smile again.

Lookingthrough the window as the room itself has proven itself unable to distract thedemon on his own thoughts drowning his own rationality, there was a signagebeaming with fluorescent lights that made him stand and read;

“Seven..Eleven..”“I wonderif there have any ice cream there..”

Mammon

For being the Avatar of Greed, he sure do brag about bein’ their little human’s first to ever make a pact with. He ain’t letting it pass on as just that.

Just to see his brothers sneer and hiss from mentioning it.

It’s like this bullet that could penetrate even to the thickest skull out there.

An accomplishment and for once, it was a pact he felt that wasn’t a curse. The witches should def. take down some notes from his human~

Yet…

He thought to himself…

There’s no one like his human.

Recalling how his human would ride along to every trouble he creates, every idea he makes, it was this exchange student who was only staying a year that somehow, taught him companionship. And…

He couldn’t take it out of his chest, that he, the Great Mammon, had failed them.He was their first demon to ever make a pact with yet he didn’t do much being one.Perhaps, thinking now, most of them did more than he.Showed more care. Provided more care.And all he did was to get himself out of troubles and the consequences of his actions.Correction: It’s his human that would bail him out… like a mom.

But then, was there anything he could do to being with?

“Dang.. How much am I going to pay you now?”

His human has never even once mentioned of this illness resulting to Death..Well, all diseases would lead to Death but not with this higher rate of going to Death.It‘s like a parade to Death with his human the star of the show.

“I knew I should have bought Boardwalk the moment I landed on it the first time round!”

Maybe he should be the one to blame here.Maybe he didn’t ask more. Known them better.To think even money could betray him because there’s no known cure yet for them.Just like what the doctor said.

“Rent revenue of 50 dollars plus a three houses, umm..”

“Mammon?”

…

“Mammoney?”

…

“MonMon!”

“Ya?” Clearing his headspace, the Great Demon of hell went straight to his Boardwalk card. Sure thing that the visit was expensive. He’s getting all the money from this human plus his property, that’s… for sure..

“Is there something wrong?” they asked, their eyes piercing and hoisting only the truth on the sea of lies, he had come up of saying; “For you not to be interested with mone–“

“I wish I could have known this sooner..”

“Mammon..”

“I could have not wasted your time too much with tossing you from one chaos to another.. and—“

“Mammon…” taking his hand with theirs to entwine with, their little cash-based board game folded in half as they inched closer;

“Why didn’t you ask me to make it go away?”

Did his voice just crack?

“Mammon..”

“I’m the first demon ya got to make a pact with. I got some witches and we might have been able to conjure some potion to get ya ou—“

“Because I just want to spend my time with you..

I do not want our time to be spent on looking for a cure when we could have so much more fun alone.”

Pause.

“Before meeting you, for a while, I was in your shoes too. Looking for a cure that was not there and I am glad that I snapped out of it meeting you.”

“Ummm…” the Avatar of Greed gulped down.

Did he just screw up?

“Because if it were not for you, I would not have enjoyed living. Having fun. Making troubles. I felt alive.”

For someone whose lifeline is in the near end… a demon, a particular avatar of Greed demon could only comprehend so little. Here was a human, frail and like the money he knows would soon be gone out of his pocket, talking of living life to the fullest with him..

Because of him…

“So.. are we still playin’ Monopoly or we’ll just snuggle ‘til the nurse bails you out of visitation hours?”

Leviathan

“What do you think we should play next?” Looking to his rightside, his little human was watching intently at the monitor of his laptop,completely ecstatic as he was able to defeat the final boss of the game. He wasable to manage to get through the final boss because of the UR armour pieceshis human was able to pick whenever he has to decide which crate he should openafter completing another level.

“Shall we go for.. Ruri-Chan Idol or A!3?”

“Whatever you decide on, Levi! As long as I’ll get to watch you.”

His eyes tried not to leave theirs but with his eyes inevitablytracing the cord from the IV down to their hands, injected for how long theycould have been admitted, playing video games became much more of a distractionfor him than it was for his human.

“Levi?”

“Y-y-yes?”

Making his eyes return to the person staring back at them, hecould definitely see a glistening spark as their lips curled, reaching theirears.

“Are you afraid of needles?”

Needles?Afraid of needles?Why would he be afraid of needles?

“Me? Afraid of needles? ROFL LMAO. The only thing I’m afraid of isnot having enough diamonds to purchase another UR Ruri-chan for the next event.”

It wasnot the needle that he was afraid of..But rather, on how swollen their hands are.It must have taken a lot from them..

“Then why are you looking at it like it’s some boss level at oneof your video games?”

Just as there were no room left to insert an excuse from hisinventory, he shifted his attention back to his folder of video-games that hewas able to install for offline playing purposes when he heard them laugh oncemore.

“Look at my hand, Levi! It looks like a balloon. I can’t move it..”

“Let me get the nurse then.”

“Why aren’t you saying ‘lol’ or ‘lmao’?”

Leviathan dead-panned looked at his human for quite some time, hiseyes fixated on theirs going to their hand and back again;

“You want me to lol when your hand looks like it weighs a ton?! Ifthis were an otome game, your intimacy with me would go down!”

“I am just kidding.. hahaha”

That laugh. That silly laugh that even a shut-in could not helpbut be flustered every time his ears are graced with it.

“I already rung the nurse station. Someone would come assist meanytime soo-“

“Good day, how could I be of assistance, sir?”

A woman dressed in all white looked at him before it was able todetect the cause of her call.

Her hands soon untangled the weave by his patient’s left hand, askingto keep their hand still as a ball of cotton soon veiled how the needle wasejected from…

And that was when he turned away from the scene and gave the nursesome space as he went through once more to his file of games..

Whichgame would best distract me?

He could always trust his video games.Video games has always shut him out of facing the outside world.Had always been his comfort blanket.But with him always in this comfort blanket, could he be truly there to supporthis human?

“You could look now, Levi!”

Why arethey smiling? What is there to smile? One hand told to be careful and anotherstuck on a board so it would not bend and have the needl—Maybe he is, sort of, afraid of the needle…Because of how it could be dangerous to them!

“How could you be so chill in all of this?”

“Because, I’m used to it?”

“But you see me with every boss level. Yes, I am used to gameshaving boss level but it is still different..”

“Well.. it was quite painful..”

Then whyare you so chill about it?Is this perhaps.. jealousy with how their human could handle things that ademon couldn’t?Him shutting in and them.. facing it?

“But today, I feel fine today.~”

“How come?” the Avatar of Envy looked once more to their hands,knowing how their left hand would soon be swollen too after a couple of IVs anddays..

“Because I have you.~”

Thishuman..

Sensing his cheeks go crimson red in heat, he tried concealing hisface with one hand, hearing once more that silly laugh, making him moreflustered. “Warn me next time when you’ll go cheesy, human.”

“How about this.. I’ll play a game and you will watch whileresting on my shoulders.”

“What will you be playing?”

“Do you have that game where the owner of a fast-food restaurantof chickens in a dating simulator?”

Satan

“Sorry, I’m late.”

Watching his human finish the last spoonful of their supper andpausing a video from their phone, it was prominent to his tone how angry he wasto himself. Mixed with frustration as his efforts of spending more time at thelibrary, looking at every bookcase for a book with a solution to theircondition, wasted as he found none.

Of all the spells and ancient writings, Devildom is provided with,none could enlighten the Avatar of Wrath on how he could just make theirillness non-existent which only added fuel to the fire considering how there isa book that could swap two entities to the other’s bodies but none about makinga mortal’s terminal illness gone.

“What were you listening to?”

Trying to put the subject or reason of his tardiness to rest bymeans of bringing up another conversation, right now, what the devil wants, isto turn his brain from overthinking off, and more on thinking about them.

“Oh! I was listening to a podcast with a holographic fanatic.”They beamed as though they had spent their time fruitful compared to his. “Youlook a bit tired..”

“A bit tired?”

Are hiseyebags prominent once more? He most definitely would not like to put his humanin worries or to even look tired.That he took from Lucifer.

“But still pretty charming.~”

“Now that is cheesy.”

Putting the food tray and the food container that looks similar tothose at the cafeteria away and near to the door, he saw his human shiftingmore towards their left, a clear invitation for him to be nearer, resulting toSatan putting his coat by the sofa readily available for a visitor.

“What was the podcast about?” He asked as he kept on shifting toattain that perfect and comfortable position to lie down next to them. The bedwas not relatively bad, much to his surprise.

“Just mundane stories that I just missed while being in here.”

If only asickness could tremble and run with his wrath, he would have done it in a snap.Why does sickness have to constrict someone from living?Especially them?

“I’d rather hear about you.~”

Surprised, his features were much more of confusion, somethingthat made his little human laugh and smile as though they were not in such confinedsituations.

“About me?”

“Mhmm!”

There itis again. Those kitty-like eyes.Those eyes that would make him fall for them once more.And make his cheeks flustered and in heat.

“What about me?”

“Anything. Childhood, fondest memories, life as a student..anything! I just want to hear more about you.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“Eh?”

“Well, there is nothing interesting about me, darling.”

“Don’t say that!”

Hethought he was the Avatar of Wrath..But with his human angry at his reply..He could be dethroned with that title and just be the VP of being the Avatar ofGreed.

“You are interesting!”

“Darli—“

“You truly are! You are interesting to me.”

Interestingto me.

Sensing his ears getting hotter and hotter, he looked up by thepale ceiling, the fan spinning round and round when he felt an arm wrap aroundhis abdomen, warmth coursing through; “Pleeeeaase?”

“All right, all right. Maybe I could tell you how Asmodeus taughtme how to lie to save a kitty.”

“Yay!”

Asmodeus

“Asmo?”

Sensing his fingersentwined further to theirs, the Avatar of Lust fluttered his eyes open, seeingtheirs holding a reflection of himself making his body jerked itself to functionand boost up at once.

“You’re awake!”

How long was he asleep?

“Good morning, beautiful.~”

Beauty?Now now, little human..Let the Avatar of Lust handle the flirting.Although hearing their compliment was definitely more boosting than any reserved slot or timefor spas and saunas.

“How are you feeling,dear?”

Looking through his phone,it was already 4am by his lockscreen, garnering how the Beauty himself wouldalready have underbags on his eyes. But that is something a cold slice ofcucumber and sleep would cure. Unlike theirs, where the operation was rather concerning in regards of how their body would take it. How the body will heal and take in the changes..

“How long have you beenhere, Asmo?”

This human..When will they ever learn to answer before asking?

“Just an hour ago. Then Ifell asleep instantly.~”

Lies.He had been there for hours and perhaps a day?It had been so long since he moved from his seat from their operation and truthbe told..His buns.. his “ass”ets are kinda flat by now.Nevertheless..He would not miss being the first demon his human would see when they wake up.Never.

And to think he was out-waken by his human.

“Was there a nurse thatcame to visit me?”

“There was one that replacedyour IV and checked pressure while ago.”

Both eyes were soon by theIV with its fluid contents were nearly empty, something his lies however, couldnot cover.

“Wow.. Only a while ago withmy IV already up to be replaced? Asmodeus..”

Oops?

“Fine..I have been here formore than a while..”

Pouting their lips with theireyes gazing afar from his to the round décor by the wall, it was evident how hehad spent overnight beside them without any flinch or reconsidering even tomove from his seat before he could see his reflection once more on their eyes.

“You have dark circlesunder your eyes already.. Do you want to switch places? I will take a seat andyou will lie down on my bed?”

“You are not yet advised toeven sit up, darling.” The demon argued. “Dark circles could be remediedeasily.”

This human just woke up and their first concern is him?Or more specifically, his looks..Truth be told, the same could be said with him but They now come in second.His main priority is them.

“But..”

“No buts now, dear.”

Smiling seeing theirfeatures an upside down reaction to his, he nudged his seat closer to them, hesoon let his pressed his lips against their forehead before stroking a fewstrands of their hair that were, unfortunately, bit too sleek to his liking;

“Darling?”

“Hmm?”

“Want me to help you.. wash?”

“Asmo!”

Blushing at his suggestion,it was more of a concern rather than his usual evocative invitationsconsidering how several cords would hinder the progress, not to mention how thenurse would dutifully remind him of how their hand where it is injected to,should remain unmoved otherwise, blood will come out and ascend to the tube;

“I am quite serious.”

“Eh?!”

“I could wash my darlingbefore breakfast. What do you say?”

“Asmo…”

Finding this all amusing,it was quite difficult to put the talk into a more serious tone but with thenurse coming in an hour or two for their breakfast, it seems the Avatar of Lusthas to surrender it all;

“I could get a towel and abowl so you could work clean yourself while I will be in charge of cleaning anddrying it What were you thinking, silly?.”

“Oh..”

“It looks like someone ishaving a different idea. We could always do that.~”

“Asmo!”

Oh it is good to have them back.

Beelzebub

“Is this what they have inthe cafeteria?”

It was then, that even theAvatar of Gluttony found food unappetizing. They were looking rather bland andfrom the faces of the people eating, they seem to care more about filling inthe void there is at their guts rather than actually enjoying the food.

He would most certainly beable to tolerate it, especially when he sensed his tummy rumble when his palmrested on it but, for his human to also have the same experience?

It was a big no-no.

With an hour and a halfbefore the nurse or staff would give their meal for the noon, the Avatar ofGluttony followed his second brain to scout and find stores that sells betterfood.

Tastier food.

Just the thought of it hadhis stomach grumble as his nose then sniffed out, making several stops near thehospital’s vicinity, surprised with what mortals could do with simple and fewingredients that the demon presumes to be readily available.

Perhaps he should come around and know their delicacies more?He had always heard stories from them about some food that are spoken not tohis language despite being Gluttony himself.

With goodies in a largebag, truth be told, he was not accustomed to what his person would call “terminalillness”. It was a shock and the thought of it became overwhelming. His pacewere gradually slower as his mind could not erase their confession of theirailment, how they warned him, but did he listen?

He did.But he did not want to let it hinder them.And he will never let it be.

…

“That’s all for you?!”

At this point..

His eyes were fixated ontheirs, breaking its trance with the sound of the door shutting, making hiseyes travel lower down to their figure. They have been getting thinner thanthey were when they were introduced, having his rear colored with dark blues.

Perhaps, it reminded himtoo much of famine.. Seeing it onto the privileged’s eyes as they take what is supposed to be shared to others.

Taking the moment to settlewhat he had brought over by a small bedtable, his lips subconsciously drew asmile, refraining himself from making a comment or two about it.

“Why is that what you wouldalways say..”

With a giggle or two, therewas already a feast laid out on the table, making no room for the food providedby the facility, something he would just have to eat all to himself to trickthe staff, his eyes reflecting how swell they looked from sensing the newvarieties offered on their plate.

“Didn’t I mention we would have lunch together?”

“Yup. And I always get myusual hospital food.. But not anymore!~”

“Now hold on before diggingin..”

Munching the food away toreplenish the sense of famine within him, diverse yet complimenting flavors overwhelminghis tongue, it was obvious the Avatar of Gluttony could not help either to moanto compliment the divine food he just purchased or continue munching as thoughthey were alive and would run away.

“Umm.. Beel?”

“..Yes?”

Hearing them laugh ascrumbs went onto his shirt like a waterfall, his eyes fell too onto theirplate.

They have not even touched their plate..

“Could you help me slice upthis chicken?”

Is this why they are so thin?Because the food is rather inaccessible for a one-hand person?

“Of course.”

It took quite a while forBeelzebub to settle his fourth hamburger and mince to their favored sizes.

If that is the problem..Maybe he could offer them a solution instead.Him.

“Now say ahh..~”

“Beel!”

“Hmm?”

“I could do it on my own..”

“Not when I am holding yourfork, you couldn’t.~”

Belphegor

Violently shaking what heheld dearest onto his arms, not even a flinch or any movement came about totheir chest, making himself tremble, holding them closer to him.

It couldn’t be true.This is just a dream..He needs to wake up.

Belphegor could take on anyhardships there is, burden there is, but not facing the inevitable yet.. He wasnot ready yet.

And probably never will.

To an Avatar of Sloth,wasting time had been his forte, and to spend it efficiently.. is this what hisdream is communicating him with?

“Nnnn…”

“No.. no..no…”

“Nooo…”

Sensing his consciousnessseeping through, his body felt like being electrocuted by the door creaking anda stranger’s voice entering.

How long has he been passed out?

Usually, he could care lessabout such trivial matters but feeling like sleeping schedules and body clocksbut with someone’s life given with a countdown…

…

“Good evening. Is he your guardian?”

Turning his head to facethe voice, his vision soon could interpret the man as the hospital’s securitywith his record book at hand and a pen, his eyes for a moment, on Belphegor’sstate.

“Yes he is.”

There they are, sitting onthe sole chair provided for the guest with the metal rod or pole accompanying them,assisting the flow of the IV through their veins.

“Will he be stayingovernight?”

“He will be.”

“On it. Seems like he’s thepatient rather than you are. Ta-ta!”

“That’s not true…” Hemuttered, dark hues reappearing on his rear just as they were visible in hisdreams.

“Are you okay, Belphie? Youwere sleeptalking again..”

“I was?”

Shit.

“Just a random dream, Isuppose.”

By the looks of theirfeatures, it did not take too long for Belphegor to know how his response wasunpleasant.

So much for someone who just woke up..

“I just had a nightmare.The curse of sleeping too much.”

He dare not bring up hisown troubles. That would be insensitive nor does he wish to press an issueregarding their limited lifeline.. Truth be told, humans are mortal beings butwith an illness pressing them down towards the inevitable further…

“Would you like to tell meabout it?”

Tell them about it?

“It is just nothing..”

“You’re not really a goodliar, Belphie. How about we get to talk to it with a cup of coffee?”

Though the mattress wasrelatively comfortable and the pillows plump with the scent of theirs, like acertain paradise created for him, his body voluntarily get up and made them coffee.

“Don’t you think my habitsis just wasting your time?”

Crap.. What was he thinking?This is why he should have coffee first before even saying anything..Caffeine before making a mess out of himself.

“What do you mean?”

Too late. He dug himself deeper into this.

“Well..” his back facingthem as the kettle was settled down to two mugs, the powdered mix adding hue tothe pouring hot water; “I am the Avatar of Sloth and I tend to take naps moreoften.. sleep, you know… waste ti—“

“No.”

“No?”

“Because any time with youaround is time spent worthwhile.~”

Bewildered with howcheerful a mortal could be despite their lifeline drawing thinner by everyshift there is on the hands of their own clock?

“I do not understand..”

Parting his lips to gentlysway the heat away from the cup, their hands touch as they reached out for thecup, something with their heat warmer than a hot cup of coffee could provide…and it is rushing towards his cheeks;

“Because I get to hear yousnore.~”

Excuse me??Snore..Have his human mistaken him for Beelzebub?

“I do not snore!”

“You do! And yousleeptalk.~”

“That’s another thing!”

Giggles turning tolaughter, made it all the more embarrassing should he, indeed, does snore. Hishuman was someone who could not lie convincingly, at least for someone who istrained efficiently to sniff the BS out of his brothers;

“I do not snore..”

“Yes you do!” And theyproceeded to imitate it.. or make it looklike he does..?

“Okay, that’s enough..otherwise, I would make sure you get to sleep first before I do.”

“Noooooooo” and theyproceeded to sip their cold coffee, preparing themselves for the battle on ‘who gets to stay awake longer to witness the other fall asleep’.

_________________________________________________Updated masterlist here.

#obey me game #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me headcanons #anon ask #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #mod shin-seul

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miracul0us-multishipper · 5 years

Text

Welcome to the Back (Part 11)

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Lila knew the situation was getting out of hand, even before she heard Ladybug reveal that they weren’t friends. At this point, she had already escaped the school and hidden outside, where she was in no danger to be seen by Sentiquill.

“Stupid Ladybug!”, she muttered as she walked home, not bothering to check up on the others or return to school. Even after she saw the Miraculous Cure flash through the sky, her pace didn’t slow. She needed time to think of a fitting lie, and the fallout of today’s akuma would be enough to deal with tomorrow. Ugh, she hated Paris! You could never know what happened next, never plan ahead!

She groaned.

To be fair, the akuma attack was actually kind of convenient this time. It gave her a chance to check up on her looks at home, prepare for the meeting this afternoon. There was no second chance for the first impression, after all!

So when she entered the TV1 tower and flashed the employee ID she’d stolen from Mireille, she looked as professional as she could get.

René Bordeaux’s office was easy to find. His name was written on the door in bright, red letters and the voice that yelled into a phone on the other side was iconic. With a confident smile, she knocked on the door. The voice fell silent, then yelled into the phone once more before hanging up. Angry footsteps advanced and the door was flung open.

“What is it?!”, a middle-aged man shouted. Lila scanned him quickly. Carefully styled, blond-dyed hair. There was a hint of grey in his roots, something he obviously meant to hide. Scared of aging probably.

His suit looked brand new, but was a little too short on the ankles, she noticed and drew her conclusions: He valued luxury and tried to intimidate with pricy clothes, but didn’t actually know a lot about fashion and likely bought whatever looked the most expensive. He had sideburns, for God’s sake. 60’s nostalgia? Probably wanted to go back to “the good old days” his dad had talked about wistfully when he was young. She wondered if he was right-wing. A Control freak, judging by the meticulously organized room behind him, and he was single given the lacking photos of a girlfriend on his desk. Or photos of anything other than himself in general. There was a wedding ring on his finger, even though Lila’s research had brought up his disastrous divorce of Evelyn Leanne, and that he hadn’t married since. His lack of reminders of Leanne in the office - reference to the photos - made her doubt he harbored any romantic sentiment for her. He was only bitter about being shunned, and about losing a perfect trophy family. Likely hadn’t accepted the divorce.

All these deductions only took her seconds to complete, René Bordeaux was an open book.

Her smile widened. So much potential!

“Oh, my apologies.”, she said sweetly. “I was looking for René Bordeaux, but if he’s not here yet-“

“I’m René Bordeaux! Why do you think would I be in this office, otherwise?!”

She gasped in false shock.

“You? But you look so young!”

The man blinked, thrown off his rhythm. His anger deflated and his raised hand dropped to his side.

“I... I guess!”

He caught himself and crossed his arms.

“Well, you have a point. But I hear that a lot, young Lady, so what do you want?”

Perfect.

“I am Lila Rossi.”, she introduced herself. “I called you yesterday, about the Journalism Junior contest you produce. A great idea, by the way.”

“Ah, yes, of course. What was that about again?”

Time to get bolder.

“May I come inside?”, she crooned. “This shouldn’t be discussed so out in the open. Wouldn’t want the public to hear of it.”

Now she had his attention. Bordeaux had made his money as a populist and paparazzi, a reporter known for his scandalous articles. He’d lost his job after the lawsuits last year, but his new position as chief editor of TV1 didn’t mean he had lost his lurid hunger for sensations - especially if he was the first one to know.

He huffed, but stepped back to let her in. The view out of the window front was fantastic, but she wasn’t here to marvel at the city. So she came straight to the point.

“I am a great fan of you work!”, she lied. “Especially your article after the Leanne-Agreste Show Disaster. Your concern about your son’s well being was very inspiring for me. I wish I had a father like that.”

She was glad she didn’t have a father like that, but Bordeaux didn’t need to know that. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“Am I supposed to be flattered?”, he grumbled, but his chest visibly swoll with pride. “What does this have to do with the contest?”

Her shoulders dropped in concern.

“Monsieur Bordeaux, I don’t know how to tell you this, but... See, Felix is in my class, and I am very concerned about him. I wanted to do my report on him, but what I found during my research worries me.”

He’s a control freak, she remembered, and he has no real sentiment towards his family. He only cares about reputations.

“He’s surrounding himself with all the wrong people, and when I - as the class representative - wanted to warn his mother, she brushed me off as if she didn’t care at all.”

Bordeaux tried to hide his interest, but there was a spark of hunger in his eyes. He was sensing a chance.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. See, our class is very... diverse.”

If he leaned to right side of politics, the word would repulse him.

“There’s people like Felix, Adrien Agreste, the mayor’s daughter or me in our class, who are well educated and come from the right families. But there are also... less fortunate people. Like Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng for example, who has great influence over your son.”

He flinched at the foreign last name, just as expected. His face had turned sour.

“What are you saying?”

“I say, Felix needs you.”, she catered to his ego. “He has no father figure, no role model. His mother lets him do whatever he wants, not caring about his future or who might take advantage of him. He has an unhealthy amount of freedoms, and just this morning, he fell victim to Hawkmoth!”

Bordeaux’s hands twitched and his eyes widened.

“An akuma was after my heir?! Who was it? I need names!”

“Oh no, he was akumatized himself.”, she informed him smugly. He muttered something about bad publicity, then looked up again.

“What was the reason? His mother? He’s ridiculously devoted to her.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”, she lied. “He was alone with Dupain-Cheng when it happened.”

She sighed, then put enough urgency in her voice to make even herself cringe.

“He really needs someone who knows what’s best for him, who can look out for him and will set him limits. He needs you!”

Bordeaux scoffed and paced through his office.

“Do you think I didn’t try to save this family?! Evelyn won’t let me near them anymore, and Felix would rather live like a pauper before going against her.”

Lila smiled.

“I know.”

Her schemes were finally going somewhere.

“But I might have a solution for you.”

When Adrien came to school the next day, he felt numb. There was no Plagg at his side, no ring on his finger, no sense of freedom in his chest as he walked up to the entrance. Everything felt hollow. How could everyone be this carefree when his entire world had been uprooted yesterday? Didn’t they feel the shift in the air, the tension in the room? Chat Noir had vanished, yet nobody seemed to mind.

“Dude, there you are!”, Nino greeted him from a bench at side, surrounded by his classmates. “We were worried sick about you, yesterday! Did you see the Akuma Attack? We were all working with Ladybug, it was so cool!”

Adrien flinched, before stomping over to them.

“Really?”, he asked, trying to suppress his fury. “That sounds awesome! I was busy looking for Chat Noir, in case you wanted to know! So he could get back to protecting Ladybug.”

If Nino noticed how passive-aggressive he sounded, he only shrugged.

“Man, didn’t you hear? It was all over the news last night.”

Adrien frowned in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Yeah!”, Alix chimed in. “Chat Noir is cancelled!”

His blood ran cold. Did they... did they know he had lost his ring?!

“Look at this.”, Alya demanded and showed him her phone, playing a video on the Ladyblog. “Nino filmed this, since I was taken out.”

His eyes widened when he recognized the scenery. It was filmed from under the stairs, but Sentiquill and Ladybug were perfectly clear to see. His Lady held the Akuma in place with her yo-yo, ordering Chat to help. Alya was snorting with anger when the hero refused, leaving Rose at Sentiquill’s mercy.

“Can you believe it?!”, she seethed when the camera panned to Ladybug’s pained face, who apologized for rejecting him before asking for his help again. “He made her beg! He let Rose be drained for ink, just so he could force her into his stupid power play! And her apology?”

She scoffed.

“I can’t believe he would ask that of her! As if she owed him anything for rejecting him!”

“Don’t forget the part where he almost killed Ladybug!”, Chloé spoke up. “If I ever see his ugly ass face again, I won’t need a Miraculous to rip him apart.”

“But,” Adrien stammered, “We don’t know the whole story! Maybe he had a valid reason to-“

Chloé laughed and pinched his cheek.

“Oh, silly Adrikins. I always forget how little experience you have with people.”

Kim nodded.

“Yeah, if you get rejected, no matter how, you gotta accept it. Doesn’t mean you gotta take any shit” - he glared at Chloé, who had the decency to look ashamed - “But you sure have no right to pressure her into anything. And demanding an apology for saying no?”

He clicked his tongue.

“That guy definitely wasn’t present for Mendeleiev‘s lesson on consent.”

“He abandoned Rose.”, Juleka murmured from the background, holding her unusually quiet girlfriend’s hand. “I’ll never forgive him for that.”

Adrien gulped.

“Well, Miraculous Ladybug always undoes every harm, right?”

“Cut it, Adrien!”, Alya snarled at him all of a sudden. Everyone fell silent. The reporter blinked, then leaned back a little to regain control of herself.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”, she mumbled, staring at nothing. “What it felt like. Just because Ladybug can cure everyone doesn’t mean she can undo what happened to us.”

Nino put his arm around her and she relaxed a little. When she looked at Adrien again, she was as composed as always.

“I’ve never been more terrified than yesterday.”, she stated firmly. “And it was even worse for Rose, judging by how much ink Sentiquill got out of her. Chat could have spared her that, but he chose not to. To him, each of us was less important than getting back at Ladybug. Just for not catering to his whims.”

She shook her head.

“If Ladybug doesn’t kick his ass, Rena Rouge will.”

“Uh, I literally said it first.”, Chloé complained. “Tell Fox girl to stand in line, Queen Bee is the one that’s going to kick that mangy cat into orbit!”

As the others broke out in a fight of who would have the best chance to beat up Chat Noir - Sabrina stood eerily still in the corner, saying something about a knife and Chat’s eyes - Adrien slipped out of the yard. It felt like the entire universe was against him! Everything came crashing down around him, no one took his side anymore-

“Adrien?”, a voice behind him asked and he turned around to see Lila. “Are you alright?”

He swallowed down his feelings.

“Yeah”, he croaked. “Just worried. Ladybug told everyone about you, classes are going to be... tense.”

He sighed. He might not be Chat Noir right now, but he was still Adrien Agreste, Bustier’s sunshine boy. He had to keep the peace as far as possible.

“You need to come clean.”, he suggested. “Apologize and tell them the truth about everything, then maybe, this will blow over soon.”

And maybe Marinette would be his friend again. This whole Lila-mess had only harmed them all, it was time to set things right.

Lila nodded.

“Of course, you are so right.”

She smiled weakly.

“I know I never told you this, but you are a great friend. Thank you for protecting me as long as you could. I really wish people would listen to you more, you’re so thoughtful!”

He looked up.

“You think so?”

She nodded, patting his shoulders.

“They can’t see it, but I do.”, she assured him. “You do so much for your friends. You prevent them from harming themselves, from destroying the harmonic atmosphere. They can be grateful to call you their friend.”

He blushed a bit, flattered. And relieved. Finally someone that appreciated all his hard work!

Lila sighed and walked towards the yard.

“I’m really sorry you’ll be dragged into this mess, Adrien.”

He stiffened. Wait, what?

“What do you mean?”

She stopped to look at him, surprised.

“Well, if I tell them the truth about everything, I’ll have to tell them you knew everything from the start. You and I know it was only for their own good that you didn’t expose me, but they... You’ll be pulled into this inevitably. Things will likely be horrible for you for a while, maybe you’ll even lose some friends. Nino, Alya, Chloé... I don’t think they’ll understand you were doing the right thing.”

His mind was running wild. No! He already had them badmouthing Chat Noir in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to bear it if they hated him as Adrien too!

“Lila, wait!”, he called when she moved to walk on. “Maybe... Maybe there’s another way. To keep everyone calm. We can think of something, I’ll help you!”

She smiled.

“You would do that for me? You’re so sweet.”

Her eyes glistened eagerly.

“I think I already have an idea.”

“How are you feeling?”, Felix asked her. They stood in front of the classroom, hesitating to go inside. But Marinette had enough of fearing confrontation. Chat, Adrien, Lila, all of them were people she didn’t want to run from anymore. It was time to walk her way and hope that her friends would have her back. But she was through with waiting for problems to resolve on their own.

“Well enough.”, she replied. “And you?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t remember much of what happened, and I generally don’t care what others think of me. But...”

He sighed.

“I did hurt people. Not consciously, but it still happened because of me.”

Marinette couldn’t say anything against that, so she simply took his hand. Whether for his comfort or her own, she didn’t know.

“Come on.”, she said. “I’m sure they’ll understand, and... It’s not like Lila will be a problem anymore, at least! So let’s get this over with.”

With that, she opened the door and walked inside. Only to see Lila surrounded by their classmates.

“Marinette!”, she called. “Just in time. I was just telling everyone how Ladybug saved me again, yesterday.”

Marinette felt her eyes twitch.

“Ladybug- You- I-“, she pressed out, wanting to throttle her. How was it possible that she just sat here as if nothing happened?! Things were supposed to be different now!

Felix nudged her hand and she looked up to him. He nodded at the rest of the class with his chin, and her eyes followed his gesture. They weren’t hanging on her every word as she had feared. No, Chloé wasn’t even listening, filing her nails with an occasional roll of her eyes. Alya sat next to an angry Nino, arms crossed. Juleka’s eyes were shooting daggers at Lila.

All in all, the class looked suspicious. Not enthralled and excited, but almost annoyed. An improvement!

“Ya better hurry to give us a damn good explanation, girl!”, Alya growled. “Because I have Lb’s statement on video, and I won’t hesitate to post it online!”

Lila gave her a surprised glance.

“What are you talking about? Did I do something wrong?”

Nino glowered at her.

“That’s a damn bold question, Lie-la! Ladybug told us everything.”

His girlfriend raised her phone, playing Ladybug’s fight against Sentiquill.

“But fine!”, Marinette heard her alter ego shout. “If it makes you happy!” Then she started to rant about Lila, who looked suspiciously calm.

“Well”, she shrugged when the sequence was over, “she really went all out, didn’t she?”

“What do you mean?”

Lila chuckled.

“I mean, just look at her face! So disdainful, so authentic! A great actress, really!”

Alya faltered a bit.

“Actress?”

“Of course!”, she laughed. “Ladybug was obviously trying to placate Sentiquill, as we all know Felix doesn’t like me since our little misunderstanding. A bummer it didn’t work, but I guess she isn’t perfect either.”

She sighed and straightened herself.

“Ladybug told me to flee, since the Akuma was after me specifically. I would have stayed with you otherwise, and helped to defend you against Sentiquill. But she knew if I was nearby, he’d go after me and then Ladybug would be distracted. She cares so much about me, her worry for my wellbeing would have interfered with her ability to think straight.”

Alya frowned.

“How do we know this isn’t another lie? It’s your word against Ladybug’s, and you haven’t proven anything!”

Pondering, Lila tapped her finger against her chin.

“Hm, let’s see... Adrien! You saw us; you can be my witness, right?”

Everybody turned around and Marinette’s eyes widened. Adrien stood at the window, looking weary but determined. Surely he wouldn’t... He had covered for Lila before, true, but to lie on her behalf...

Her hopes sunk when he avoided eye contact with her.

“It’s true.”, he stated flatly. “I saw them talk after the battle. Ladybug...” He gulped. “Ladybug apologized for saying all these things, but it was only to protect her.”

“That’s not true!”, Marinette howled furiously. “What are you even saying, Adrien?!”

He looked away, pouting.

“Stop shouting at me. It’s the truth! I saw them when I was on my way... on my way-“

“-to accompany me to Jagged Stone!”, Lila finished for him, a smug look on her face. “I invited him along because he was so rattled after the akuma attack. To cheer him up! Jagged is the best when it comes to lighten the mood, right, Adrien?”

“Uh... yeah!”, the blond agreed hesitantly, obviously confused. “Totally! I, er, can confirm.”

Marinette’s eyes burned into his spineless figure, seething with rage. This had been his chance. For someone that preferred inactivity when it came to his friends, he was all too quick to stand up for a liar.

“So... it was all true?”, Alya dared to hope. “You really are Ladybug’s friend, and you know Jagged Stone?”

“Don’t forget Prince Ali, but yes. I’d never lie to you, Alya!”, Lila reassured. “Everything I said is true.”

Felix took a step forward, opening his mouth to protest, but Marinette put her hand on his chest to stop him.

“Don’t.”, she whispered, forcibly cooling down her anger to a simmering hatred. “They win this round.”

Everything Felix could say now would only further Lila’s victim role, and they had no proof right now. It would be a waste of time.

Felix clenched his teeth, but nodded. To their surprise, the others weren’t done yet.

“I don’t believe you.”, Juleka mumbled and Lila’s face fell.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, I don’t believe you!”, the goth shouted, startling everyone. Rose was clutching her hand like a lifeline as her girlfriend looked up, tears in her eyes. “When Sentiquill went after Rose, Ladybug didn’t hesitate to do the logical thing and save me first, even if that meant making herself vulnerable. I know she cares about Rose, but when push came to shove, she was still able to think tactical. God knows I didn’t like her decision, but it was what saved both of us.”

Lila narrowed her eyes.

“Juleka, you sound like you wanted her to sacrifice Rose! Do you really care so little about-“

“Shut up!”, Rose cried out. Marinette wasn’t sure she had ever seen her this upset. “That’s not what she meant, and you know it!”

“Are you two calling me a liar?”

Juleka shot her a glare.

“I’m saying that I trust Ladybug. She’s able to do her job, no matter the circumstances and who might be at stake. She cares about all of us and doesn’t play favorites. If your word’s against hers, we know where we’ll stand.”

She nudged Rose, who nodded. Together they walked towards the door, but stopped when they passed Marinette and Felix.

“I don’t blame you for anything.”, Rose murmured to him so that only they could hear it. “I know what it feels like to be controlled like that. To be forced to hurt people you care about. We’re all used to it by now, you’re not alone.”

Then they walked out.

The class only recovered slowly. Many regarded Lila with distrust, most were unsure. Even Alya, who was only too desperate to believe Lila, had her doubts.

Felix gave her an encouraging smile.

“Looks like things are in motion.”

Marinette nodded, tearing her gaze from Adrien.

“I think it’s time to move on as well.”, she confessed. “To leave old burdens behind.”

She thought of Chat Noir.

“To make a clear cut.”

Marinette was busy this afternoon.

Doing homework.

Changing her computer’s background.

Putting the finishing touch on the cravat she designed for Felix.

Feeding Tikki a macaron she’d made for Adrien.

Preparing an outline for her report.

Ripping Adrien’s pictures off her wall.

Playing video games with her parents.

Taking the chest with her gifts for Adrien to Prince Ali’s charity for sick children.

Calling Felix.

Clearing her calendar of Adrien’s appointments.

Crying a bit.

Calling Felix again.

Feeling better.

When it was evening, she finally ran out of things to do. And that meant, she had nothing to distract her from her own thoughts. That wouldn’t do.

“I’m going out for a walk!”, she told her parents as she bounced down the stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet.

“Be careful!”, her mother replied and waved. “And be back before dinner!”

“Don’t you want to take something to eat with you? Or a jacket? Or-“

“Tom.”

“Oh, right. Uh, have fun!”

Marinette chuckled at her parents difference. She’d always wanted to be in a relationship like theirs: one of mutual respect, but with room for silliness and fun. To have someone that was so different from her, but shared enough of her passions and values to match. A partnership of equals, that wouldn’t waver or fade when things got difficult. Someone who inspired her to grow. Someone who wasn’t afraid to learn from her as well.

She had thought that was Adrien. Part of her might even have considered Chat Noir - the yin yang symbolic hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. But her mother had explained her for what the Taijitu truly stood: not an eternal battle of opposites, but the harmonic completion of two contrasts, the ever changing nature of the world. Chat Noir wasn’t someone who completed her, and neither was Adrien. They had only brought her misery when they should have supported her.

She sighed as she walked through the park, the half moon rising above her. Black and white.

Her mother had often used the Taiji symbol to comfort her when she’d had one of her streaks of bad luck. It’s natural to have a hard time once in a while, she’d said. But see? The darkness recedes eventually and makes room for the light. It’s a circuit, and soon things will get better for you as well. Until then? Just search for the tiny white dot. The beacon in the darkness, it’s there!

Marinette leaned her head back, watching the darkening sky.

The light in her darkness? That was Felix. The only constant support she had these days. The one whose mere presence cheered her up, gave her the strength to keep going. It was so weird, now that she thought about it. He was so... harsh. Like a bright fire that could blind and burn mercilessly, but somehow drew her in like a moth to his flame. Like the sun, that could bring people’s worst flaws to daylight, or illuminate strengths she hadn’t even known she had. He had been both demanding and eager to give, from the very beginning. Forcing her to put her self-imposed limits aside and stand up for herself, but supporting her when he knew she needed it. In return, he had opened himself to her, learned to trust and bond with others. She’d never been more proud than when he had befriended Aurore, despite their rocky start. Or when he tried to dial his bluntness down around Marc, because he knew the boy was sensitive.

He had impressed her. Everything about him was challenging and inspiring and soothing at once. She’d never liked herself more than when she was around him. And when she wasn’t, she found herself thinking about him constantly.

Even now, musing over their influence on each other brought a smile to her lips and lightened her steps until she all but floated through the park. Now that she thought about it, she liked the feeling a lot. More than a lot. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say she lo-

“Marinette”, Tikki called her from her purse. “I sense someone. Wayzz is nearby!”

She looked up, searching the park for the familiar hawaiian shirt. Indeed, it was the guardian himself that stood in front of the fountain, hands clasped in front of him. Curious, she walked up beside him.

“Good evening, Master Fu!”, she greeted. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s the stomach?”

The elder man gave her a sullen side glance.

“I thought we had agreed to never talk of that again.”

She chuckled and followed his gaze to the fountain.

“Did we? I don’t recall!”

He didn’t smile, but his wrinkled forehead relaxed a bit. Weird. Usually, he was a lot more eager to joke around, given he had so little company to do that with.

“Is something the matter? You look upset.”

Fu sighed.

“Sharp as always. I am concerned for you, for Ladybug’s safety.”

Her face grew serious.

“That’s a concern I can understand.”, she muttered. “I nearly died yesterday. It was that close!”

Fu nodded.

“I saw.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything?”, she snapped, forgetting herself. “I needed help, and you could have given that to me!”

Her master lowered his head, eyes fixed on the water.

“Because I am weak.”, he admitted. “And a coward. And not the guardian you deserve.”

He looked so old when he rubbed his forehead, almost ancient.

“In my defense, if I had known the situation was this terrible, I would have taken the miracle box with me. Or at least the Turtle, Fox or Bee. Alas, I was only aware of Chat Noir’s miraculous turning dark, and thought that we would be enough to handle him. I didn’t expect the akuma.”

“Wait...”, she slowed him down. “Chat’s Miraculous was abused? Like... Like the butterfly is?”

Fu didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his hand to reveal what he held inside. A black ring, complete with a familiar green paw print.

“His miraculous!”, she whispered in awe, then turned towards the guardian. “What did you do?! When did you do that?”

“Immediately after you purified Sentiquill’s akuma.”, he stated wearily. “And that was already far too late. I should have taken it after Syren, Frozer maybe. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

She felt a pang in her chest that she had lost her partner of almost a year, but it was overshadowed by an euphoric sense of relieve. She hadn’t noticed how much Chat had troubled her until she didn’t have to worry about him anymore. No more fear to hurt his feelings, no more dancing around the truth to avoid upsetting him. No more tantrums and reckless sacrifices. No more pressure to feel something she just... didn’t.

“I want you to have it.”, Fu continued and raised his hands when she wanted to protest. “Not for yourself, of course! Marinette, I have chosen solitude as the safest way to protect the miraculous, and for a while, it worked. But times changed.”

He breathed out, his posture slouching in shame.

“Times changed, and I didn’t. Chat Noir is the proof that I am no longer fit to distribute powers like his. But you? You have proven time and again that your trust in others is well deserved, that your choices are wise.”

His voice was full of warmth and trust.

“You have to be the one to choose a new partner, Ladybug.”, he announced firmly. “Someone you can trust not to disappoint you. It’s about time you get a say in this, don’t you think?”

She stared at the ring, so caught up in an electrifying kind of awe that she couldn’t really process his words. This was the Miraculous of destruction, the other half to her powers. If she took it, she would hold more power in her hands than should be humanly possible. What if something happened to her? What if she lost it, what if Hawkmoth got his hands on it? As long as it had no wielder, it would remain in this state and show its true colors. Everyone would be able to recognize it!

“A-are you sure you want me to have this?”, she asked with a trembling voice. Master Fu smiled.

“I have made a lot of reckless decisions. This is not one of them.”

He held the ring out to her.

“I trust you, Marinette. And I know Ladybug will chose better than I did.”

Hesitantly, carefully as if it might burn her, she took the Miraculous from his hands. It was warm in her hands, as if it were alive.

“I won’t disappoint you.”, she promised Fu, her eyes blazing with determination. She wouldn’t take this lightly, wouldn’t fail him. This time, her Chat Noir would be a hero.

- - -

Phew, done. I don't know much about Daoism, and only just started to research the philosophy behind yin and yang (or the Taijitu), but I really wanted Marinette to be more in touch with her heritage. Mama Cheng spilled her wisdom, and little Marinette sucked it up like a sponge.

#miramu writes #welcome to the back #wttb #felinette fanfic #felinette #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml felix

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brandyovereager · 4 years

Text

The Phoenix Effect - pt. 4

I had a lot of fun writing Rowan’s POV for this and I may have gotten a bit carried away...but I love Rowaelin! <3 :)

On ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22195906/chapters/58766644#workskin

Summary: Rowan is in Rifthold with Dorian when a strange phenomenon sweeps the land. Those once dead are popping up alive. Everyday, more and more are Reborn. One day Rowan encounters a Reborn young man who refuses to give his name, only asking to know the whereabouts of Celaena Sardothein.

As helpful as the Fae king had been so far, and as much as he could be trusted with his discretion, visiting the Keep was something Sam had to do alone. This was his revenge, and he needed to be the one to carry it out.

“I’ll do what I need to and meet you at the castle gates by dusk if I haven’t gotten the information I need.” Hopefully the scum left at the Keep could tell him the full story of Celaena’s fate, but if not he would still need the Rowan’s help.

“Absolutely not.” Sam was taken aback.

“Excuse me?” This was the first time the Fae had outright denied him the discretion he asked for.

“No way are you going to do whatever it is you think you need to do alone. I’m coming with you.” Sam hadn’t expected that.

“I can handle myself.” He’d spent years at the Keep, he knew the terrain and the people like second nature.

“I don’t know what sort of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into but I can tell it’s with some very bad people. You need to be smart about this. I might not be necessary, but I certainly wouldn’t be detrimental. You could use someone to watch your back, after all, I’m assuming these people are the reason you died in the first place.”

Sam had to admit he was right about that.

“You can come with me, but you stay outside. I will go in and take care of my business alone. You’ll stand guard and wait for my signal if something goes wrong.”

Rowan’s response was a simple nod. Good. The Fae would be nearby if things to a turn for the worst, but this was a conversation Rowan had no part of. As curious as the King of Terrasen’s past seemed, Sam didn’t want to bring him into this. A royal had no place in the murdering of three well-known assassins to avenge the death of another well-known assassin.

————

The further they walked, the more certain Rowan became that this kid was in some deep shit.

They were trekking through the city, side-by-side, and in silence. Rowan observed the young man carefully as they maneuvered through the crowds, in part to make sure they didn’t get separated, but also out of curiosity.

The young man was slender, but not in a way that put him at a disadvantage. On the contrary, he was lithe and nimble. He could slip easily through the crowd practically undetected, quite the opposite of Rowan’s method—simply be hulking and angry-looking and people move out of your way. The young man was not scrawny or weak. He was probably made of lean and compact muscle underneath his clothing.

He reminded Rowan of Aelin, and wasn’t that just a heart-wrenching thought—soon, they’d be back together soon. His delicate movements were similar to that of the former assassin’s—perhaps that was how this young man got himself mixed up in underhanded dealings. Rowan could easily picture the boy as a thief or an assassin, silent but dangerous.

“So Aelin Galathynius is alive?” The young man’s question made Rowan crook the edge of his mouth up in a secret smile.

“Yes, Terrasen’s true queen is alive and well, just as she will be for many years to come.” Rowan was sure of that. If her sheer power and immortal grace alone wasn’t enough, Rowan would lay down his own life to keep her breathing.

“What’s she like?” Whether these questions were simply small talk or the young man was trying to figure Rowan out, the Fae did not care. He would gladly praise his love to anyone who would listen.

“Fierce, determined, relentless,” Rowan smirked slightly as he continued, “stubborn, arrogant, hotheaded,” his face softened, “immensely beautiful, loyal to kingdom and kin, passionate as her fire,” he would forever be in awe of her, “and powerful beyond legend.” The young man was now analyzing his face closely.

“You two married for love, yes? It was not arranged?” Rowan couldn’t help but chuckle at the question.

“I bring her absolutely no political advantage as a husband. My status as a Prince was nothing but an empty title. I had no money or land, and she had far better options in that aspect, but that didn’t matter to Aelin. We are mates, simple as that.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about Fae, but your kind mate for life, yes?”

“In a sense, yes. When a Fae meets their true mate, there is an undeniable connection. Mates are tied to one another in a bond far greater than the mortal concept of marriage. The mortal world would see our marriage as a poor move for Terrasen, but such things are insignificant in the face of a mating bond.”

“I thought you were kind of odd for a king.” Rowan laughed at the kid’s observation.

He was more husband than king. Aelin was a wonderful queen, and did not need a consort to make decisions for her. What she needed was his love and fealty. He supported his mate emotionally as she bore the mantle of queen. He was blood-sworn to her, and he would do whatever she asked of him—hence his presence in Rifthold.

The two walked on, further and further, and with every turn Rowan felt the pit of his stomach sink deeper. He didn’t know how close they were to their destination, but the area was sickeningly familiar. Rowan hadn’t spent too much time in Rifthold before, especially not in any one area, but he knew this place. They were near the Assassin’s Keep.

His observation was proven true as the young man turned down a street and then stopped in front of a familiar building.

It might just be that his earlier deduction was correct. However, this young man and Aelin moved so similarly not just because they were both trained assassins, but because they were trained by the same man.

Rowan had a horrible feeling about this.

————

Sam hadn’t seen the doors to the Keep since he left with Celaena. Arobynn and his lackeys had likely taken him here to be tortured and killed, but he’d had a blindfold on the whole time.

The place was just as dark and terrible as always. Why make a building full of professional murderers look inviting? From the information Sam had found in the Hall of Records, Arobynn was no longer there, but he still felt no great desire to enter.

He glanced over to his Fae companion, who was staring at the building with an odd look on his face.

“Stay out here. I could be a while, but don’t come in unless I call for you.” For a monarch, Rowan accepted the outright order quite well, and Sam once again wondered about the story behind the King of Terrasen.

The Keep was cold inside, just as it had always been. Celaena had always used it as an excuse to buy the most expensive blankets and other finery to keep warm, but Sam had always had a deep chill through him whenever he was here.

He found Tern first. The man was sloppy, always had been, and it was easy to catch him off guard. With hardly any effort he had the other assassin subdued and tied to his own chair, Sam moved to stand in front of him. The moment Tern finally saw his face a look of shock appeared before quickly being replaced with anger.

“I heard a bunch of dead ones were popping up, some god’s gotta be off it if they picked you.”

“I’m aware you prefer me dead, you did help kill me after all.” Sam was, in fact, still a little bitter about that.

“Is that what you’re here for, revenge? You’ve come to kill me for killing you?” Tern’s teeth were bared in a sneer.

“I am enjoying the feeling of you tied up and at my mercy—and it may come to that later—but no, I’m here for information.”

“You want to know who ordered the hit on you? I thought it was pretty obvious it was Arobynn, but maybe you’d like my confirmation?” This buffoon was quickly exhausting his patience.

“No, that was obvious. I knew even then that it was him. I need you to tell me what happened to Celaena. Why was she sent to Endovier, and where is Arobynn?” Tern’s mouth curled into a sinister smile.

“You do not know?” Sam was growing tired of tedious conversation. Tern was acting quite proud for knowing something Sam did not.

“Obviously not, so tell me. What happened between the both of them after I was killed?” What did he do to Celaena?

“I take it these questions mean you have not heard whispers around Rifthold about the assassin or her master? I’m sure you have deduced what that means.” Sam briefly sacrificed his sharp focus to roll his eyes in annoyance.

“Neither is in the city, yes, but why?” Tern’s answers were sounding a lot more like questions.

“Arobynn Hammel is dead. He was murdered in his sleep two years ago, most likely by that brunette whore he kept company with.” So Arobynn was dead, but Celaena had not killed him. Celaena had never gotten to enact her vengeance on the cruel man.

“If he only died two years ago, then he would have been alive to see Celaena’s capture. Why didn’t he save her? Was it his fault?” Why would Arobynn give up his star assassin to the King?

“Yes, he set her up to be arrested. He baited her with your murder, knew she would come for revenge, and arranged for Adarlan’s Guard to be waiting for her. He was angry about her trying to run off with you, thought he’d teach her a lesson, starting with your death.” Sam’s blood was boiling with his strong emotions, one of which being immense rage.

“So I was a pawn, killed so Arobynn could reprimand his precious protege? It was better for her to meet a slow, torturous death than for the two of us to leave the Guild?” It was horrible, pure hatred and cruelty. Why could they not be happy?

“It’s your own fault for thinking you could. Nobody gets out of here. The life of an assassin follows you wherever you go, and you two had to learn that the hard way.” Not for the first time, Sam imagined how their story could have ended had they not both belonged Arobynn Hammel. If they had been born average children in Rifthold, would anyone have gone to such lengths to prevent their happiness?

“Arobynn is lucky he’s already dead, the bastard deserved far worse than a slit throat for his sins, but perhaps I can make do with you and your cronies.” Sam felt a sadistic smirk appear on his lips and slowly stalked closer to his prey. “How much did you know beforehand of his plan for her? Did you help him set the trap?” Tern began to shake slightly and struggle harder against his restraints.

“Hey now, I was just a henchman—an ignorant henchman at that. Arobynn didn’t tell us anything but what we specifically needed to do, and only right before we needed to do it. He didn’t trust us with anything that sensitive.” It was an empty excuse, really, not enough for Sam to spare him.

“You still did it, though, and I bet you were happy to. The three of you held no great love for Celaena Sardothein. I’m sure business only got better.”

“That may be true, but you still don’t want to kill me.” It was laughable, and Sam let out a short guffaw at Tern’s statement.

“Why not? What more could I need from you? You’ve answered my questions, and given me greatly displeasing answers. I should take your life as vengeance for Celaena’s.” It’s what he’d come here intending to do, anyway.

“What if I told you that Celaena didn’t die in Endovier?” Sam froze. “I can tell you how she got out and where she went, just leave me here alive.” Tern knew he had him with that, and began to look smug again. Ordinarily, Sam would have swiftly wiped the look from Tern’s face, but he was entirely fixated on what the assassin just revealed.

“You have my attention.”

@rowaelinforeverworld @flowersinvegas @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @camixd93

Message me or reply to be tagged (or just to let me know what you think)!

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sennextheassasinkingoflight · 3 years

Text

Red Pens and Keyboards

For those of you who prefer this format to having to click a link and go to Ao3. Cursed Coffee Shop AU. Lancewain Rated T for minor swearing and suggestive themes. Summary: Lancelot is a new writer. Gawain is his editor. They meet outside the office for once at a nook in the wall coffee shop. A little bit of chaos ensues. Percival is the the one with the relationship knowledge in this one. His dad needs to ask Lancelot out already.

Lancelot ran. He was fucked. This was the third time in as many weeks he had been late for meeting his editor. It hadn’t been a common occurrence until lately. For months he had been on time, but the last few weeks he’d been feeling increasingly more inspired and had been staying up later and later to write. That was in his opinion a valid reason for being late of course. He had overslept. Again. He was currently working fulltime and then some during the day and when he returned home at night he wrote. Last night he had been especially inspired, the same way he had been the last three times he’d been meant to meet with Gawain. He didn’t think too deeply as to why the inspiration was linked to these nights, but he certainly would not push it away.

He jumped over a large puddle in the middle of the sidewalk and nearly slipped. Righting himself he carried on, satchel thrown over his shoulder and nose tucked into his greying scarf. Grimacing he hoped that the rain wouldn't ruin the manuscript and his laptop. He’d forgotten his umbrella because of course he did. He ducked around the corner and, avoiding the drip edge of the shop roofs, bolted towards the coffee shop at the end of the block. The problem, he mused, with being a brand new and unknown author is that it didn’t provide an income that was live able. He had self published and had a meager following. Then one day a man had called and offered to take him on Pro Bono. It was a risky move for Gawain to have taken and Lancelot was certain this would be the last straw. Stopping outside Nemos he gathered himself, rain splashing on his face. He looked through the water speckled window for the brown haired man. He couldn't help but smile to himself when he saw him tucked in the back corner table. Gawain was well put together and wearing that green sweater that absolutely did not highlight his eyes or make him look a hundred times more attractive. Lancelot blushed to himself and shook his head. He was half an hour late and looked like shit in comparison. He had thrown his hair hastily into a bun, and knew he had circles that rivaled a raccoon's mask ringing his eyes. Taking a breath and setting his features to polite indifference he entered the store with his shoulders squared. If he was going to lose this gig, better do it with dignity. He approached the table where Gawain was tapping away on his laptop. Swallowing he opened his mouth to speak. Gawain, of course, chose that moment to make eye contact with him and smile. The words died in his suddenly very dry throat. His composure breaks just a touch with it. “Over sleep again?” “Uhm.” He sounded very dumb but Gawain just laughed. “The writing bug got you last night, then?” “Definitely.” He said sitting in the adjacent chair. Why wasn’t he getting his ass chewed? “I apologize. I’ve wasted your time.” “Nonsense. It happens when one works in our business. I can edit just as well here as my office so I’ve been working. Besides, you're my only meeting today.” The editor said putting his laptop aside. “Did you bring the printed version for me?” “Just like you asked.” “Very good, go grab some coffee so you look like you could use it.” Lancelot nodded and left the table as Gawain set to work with his pen. He wondered if the man knew how adorable he was with his face screwed up in concentration, pen resting idly against his very kissable lips. Lancelot rubbed his face. He really needed some caffeine. That was his editor. Nothing more. Despite his serious caffeine addiction, Lancelot did not drink coffee. Tea and energy drinks were his go to, and this being a coffee shop changed nothing. He ordered a hot extra strong, meaning very bitter, black tea. He couldn’t be bothered to care what kind, or brand, only that it was strong. He rubbed his numb fingers together in a poor attempt to regain blood flow. It stung when he was handed the almost too hot cup of tea. He lifted it to his lips and thought better of it. He did not need to scald his tongue and make a fool of himself. The embarrassment of being late was enough. Turning back towards the table he stopped. There was a young boy engaged in conversation with Gawain. He recognized him from the photos in his office. The office that they currently were not meeting in. He brushed the thought aside to be evaluated at a later time and worked his way back to the couple. “How much longer?” The boy asks as though it’s an innocent question. “You’ve got somewhere to be?” Gawain is far from moved by the question, eyes barely leaving the papers in front of him. “No, but I'm bored.” He stretches the “r” and lands hard on the “d”as if to emphasize his point. “You asked to come with me Percival.” And that must be Gawain's dad voice, because the man sounds about as done as done can be with this line of conversation. At least he assumes he's the boy's father. “I know. But really this place is bloody awful, it smells like burnt coffee.” If one's voice could sound like an eye roll that was definitely it. “Percival!” Even Lancelot straightens his spine at the stern tone. “Sorry.” He wants to laugh, the boy isn’t wrong so he bites his lip and smiles, tucking his nose back into his scarf. Quietly so as not to interrupt the conversation, but definitely noticed he sets his drink down and pulls his laptop out. They have a system, Gawain edits, he writes, then he makes those edits on the digital copy. But Gawain likes him to be present for the editing, which is why they go chapter by chapter. He promises that he will read it all at once when it's finished as a final edit and continuity check and that's good enough for Lance. He isn’t the editor after all. Gawain sighs and it brings him from his thoughts. He looks up from the login screen he's been staring at. He should do that eventually. “Lancelot, this is Percival, Percival meet Lancelot.” “Nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand and the boy takes it politely. “You're sure this isn’t a date? Because you never meet people outside your office.” Lancelot feels his face burn and pointedly doesn’t look at Gawain. That is definitely interesting knowledge to possess. The silence that follows lasts a beat or three to long. “I am technically working. And for the record Percival, dates don’t always occur by going out . Now, we have work to do, so here is my laptop, you know the rules, fix your boredom.” The boy rolls his eyes and takes the offered electronic. “Sorry about that.” Gawain murmurs halfheartedly, eyes cast at the manuscript before him, pen twirling in his fingers, and face unmistakably flushed. “That's alright. He’s your son, right?” “Adopted, yes. His parents were good friends of mine.” “I’m sorry.” “Thank you. He seems to be adjusting well.” He tracks Gawain's gaze to the dirty blond boy and smiles. “He seems like a spit fire.” “He is. With a foul tongue at that.” They share a laugh over it. Lancelot changes the subject after. He’s a little unsure where the boundaries are and decides to play it safe by speaking about work. “There's two chapters there… I managed a full chapter last night, and then some.” “That's impressive. How much sleep did you end up getting then?” “Uhm… I think four hours or so.” He squirms under the scrutiny of Gawain's gaze, and withers at the deadpan admonishment that he receives. “It's a wonder your heart doesn’t give out, between your caffeine addiction and lack of sleep.” He nods. There isn’t an argument in his favor. Swallowing he starts again, “If we don’t get through it all that's fine. I just figured I would bring it since I have it.” “I’m grateful you did. One chapter never seems quiet enough. Reminds me of some of the stories I read online. I may be an editor, but I am highly impatient when it comes to stories I enjoy.” “Online, as in self published stuff? Or… fanfiction?” Gawain tilts his head and smirks, “Both.” “Oh my god. Is that how you found me?” He panics, heart racing in his chest as he thinks about everything he's ever posted. Maybe his pseudonyms hadn’t been different enough if Gawain had found him. Or maybe he hadn’t put it together that the Weeping Monk and The Gray Monk were the same writer. Even when he had self published he hadn’t had the courage to do so under his real name, more accustomed to running around with usernames and gamer tags. “You did self publish via Amazon. And I am always looking for good writers, Monk.” He wants to die. He can feel the burn of embarrassment spread up his neck and slither across his cheeks. He doesn’t know if Gawain knows but that doesn’t stop his brain from running down every possibility in 10 seconds flat. And if he didn’t put it together he sure as hell could now. He’d as good as admitted that he writes for fandoms. Gawain takes mercy on him and chuckles lightly before turning back to his work. Horrified, Lancelot takes a long drink from his still too hot, very bitter tea. Today has been insane and it's only 9:56. He needs to go back to bed. He licks his lips and turns to his laptop. He needs to write. He’s certain that if he can just bury himself in the world he has created for long enough the embarrassment and stray thoughts about asking Gawain out will leave him alone. With some effort he manages to zone out of the coffee shop around them, the sounds and smells fading into the background. His tea goes cold while he works. Patrons have begun flooding the shop for the lunch rush and he doesn't notice it, nor does he notice the muffin that's sitting beside him now. What he does notice is that his character's love interest is starting to resemble his own quiet vividly. Angrily he highlights the section and deletes it with a growl. Can’t have that. What would Gawain think? He has no idea what Gawain's preference is, and the other man hasn’t given much in the way of indication in the matter… not that Lancelot is great at picking up on it anyways. He starts the section over. He focuses on the click clack of his keyboard and writes Gavin slightly differently. It’s not working and he sighs defeated. He should really change the name too. This is his introduction chapter. Gawain hasn’t seen it. There's still time. He’s about to stand and stretch, take a drink of his tea and ask about Gawain's progress when all movement in Nemos stops. “ Why do they have a magic portal in the bathtub? ” Gawain's shocked tone is loud enough that he recoils away from it. He makes eye contact and sucks in a breath. Have Gawain's eyes always been this green? They are shiny with water. Was he going to cry? Laugh? Wait there was a question he was probably supposed to answer. “Uh, comedy? Magic?” Gawain actually glares at him, and he takes a slow measured drink from very cold tea. That was apparently very much not the right answer. He swallows with difficulty, because how can those eyes be this distracting right now. He ignores the spike of arousal it sends down his spine. Nope. This is very much not the correct environment for this. He looks around the room casually. “Lancelot?” “I wrote myself into a corner and needed a convenient way for my protagonist to escape. It seemed clever when I wrote it. Apparently not.” He shrugs and turns back to his laptop. “I can fix it later, when I have more sleep in my system.” “I, no. I,” Gawain reaches across the table and grabs his wrist. He looks up at the man, hurt must be written on his face, because Gawain frowns at him. “I think it’s brilliant and very funny. I just was so unprepared for it. The rest of the book has been so serious and the magic has been all designed for the purposes of combat. I’m concerned you’ll need to go back and fix that or offer an explanation in the following chapters.— “ Gawain's hand is surprisingly calloused and very warm against his own inherently cool skin. He tries not to focus on the point of contact but can't help it. He desperately wants to turn his hand over and hold the others more correctly. He knows Gawain is telling him something important but he can't seem to get his mind to follow what's being said. The contact is a bit much, more than he has had in some time and he is loath to do anything that might break it; so, he nods hoping that it's sufficient for whatever Gawain has just asked. He knows his throat won't push out the air required for speech, even if he willed it with all his being. He tilts his head and licks his lips and gets lost in Gawain's gaze. He has no idea at all what is being said now and can’t seem to get his mind to focus. Percivals' voice is what finally gets his attention. The boy is all attitude when he speaks. “Not a date? You two look like you should be kissing each other senseless. Holding hands and all. You're so embarrassing Gawain. Can I have the power cord, it's been hours and the damn thing is going to die.” Slowly he comes back to himself and glances down at his arm. Gawain rubs his thumb over the skin on the back of his wrist, exposed from removing his jacket at some point, and then pulls away. “If you ask politely.” Gawain says, unfazed save for the slight pink tinging his neck. “Fine, Can I please have the power cord for the laptop, Gawain?” The boy says rolling his eyes and giving a full body shrug. It’s not polite but Gawain's eyes are full of amusement as he digs in his bag for the cord. “Alright, here.” Gawain hands it over, from the depths of his bag. Gawain watches the boy go, and turns back ready to say something but Lancelot is quicker. “Whose muffin?” “Oh, huh, uh yours if you want it. I got one for Percival and I a bit ago and figured you hadn’t eaten.” Gawain laughs out sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, uh, you guessed correctly. Thank you.” He pulls the muffin closer with an awkward smile. “Don’t mention it. I was happy too. Though I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, so I went with lemon. I thought it might compliment the tea.” He follows the casual gesture with his eyes, and flicks them back to the others face. “It’s one of my preferences. You guessed correctly. You seem to be on a streak for that today.” “That’s good.” Gawain says with a wry smile, all his confidence seeming to leave in an instant. Lancelot frowns. He doesn’t think anything he said should have that kind of effect. He tears a piece off of the muffin and chews it slowly, noting the way Gawain tracks the movement. Feeling a little like prey under the others gaze he manages a weak, “You didn’t poison it did you. I mean if my writing is that bad…” He trails off as the other snorts. Good, this is better. He doesn’t like it when Gawain frowns; it doesn’t suit him at all, and he definitely has too many lines from doing it too often. Gawain shakes his head and smiles at him. “Nothing of the sort. I enjoy the eccentricities of it. I was just thinking…” “About?” He takes another bite to fill the silence, and again Gawain tracks the movement and suddenly Lancelot thinks that he wasn’t wrong about the times he glanced up and thought he’d been being watched. It had happened a lot in the office, but more today. “If I’m three for three.” “That depends on what you're guessing.” He shrugs and takes a drink of tea, grimaces from the bitterness. Cold tea always seems more bitter to him than it does when it's hot. He waits patiently for Gawain to supply his guess. The man's face changes emotions several times in the process. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, frowning and then focusing, like a fish out of water. He’s finished both his muffin and his tea by the time Gawain finally say’s what it is he wants to say. “I’m guessing that if I asked you out you’d say yes.” Gawain stares him down, and Lancelot for his part does not let his emotions get the better of him. He keeps his face stoic and posture rigid. “That depends.” Gawain swallows and he follows the bob of his Adam's apple with hungry eyes. Lets them linger at Gawain's collar for a moment and then brings them slowly back to his eyes, lingering on his lips momentarily; predatory where before he had been prey. “On?” Gawain asks a waver in his voice. “If you’ll make me breakfast.” No one said he was good at flirting. “I think I can arrange that. Someone has to make sure you eat more than caffeine and sugar.” Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “Hmmm…. I think that depends on if you like me as a member of the undead or not.” “Being dead could have some, how shall we say, negative effects.” The suggestively raised eyebrow does it for Lancelot. He feels his composure fracture as he hangs his head and laughs. Any chance of continuing their work is gone with it, lost in the early afternoon chaos of their favorite coffee shop.

#Cursed #Lancewain #coffee shop au #rated t #first date #getting together #awkwardnes #emberassment #Author Regrets nothing but her inability to write humor

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bruh-haikyuu · 5 years

Note

Yes I have been waiting for this day 😭😭 can I request some angst(is that how you spell it lol) for oikawa and kuroo where their S/O recieve a message from their ex saying that if they dont break up with the them they will cause them harm the s/o breaks up with them but doesn't tell anyone you decide if its going to be a happy ending or not also I dont know what would fit this request I was think scenario but it's up to you I hope you have a good day and keep up the amazing writing 💖💖💖💖

A/N: o shit damn this is going to hurt to write bUT IM EXCITED ANYWAY BECAUSE PAIN IS GREAT

Also I’ll write this in two parts; one for Oikawa and one for Kuroo because I feel like they deserved two individual posts. Have a great week anon! Thank you for requesting

Kuroo’s Version: here

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. It hurts me to see you with another man.”

You could only stare at your phone in silence as terror drains the color from your cheeks. He was back. He shouldn’t be back. He couldn’t be back.

“Don’t you miss me too, Y/N?”

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your wrists threatening to collapse at the flash-flood from your past. “Please leave me alone.”

“Oh.”

You heard the sound of shattering glass in your head, like you had just cut off the wrong wire and set off a bomb. Then the stream of texts continued.

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N. I’ll admire you from far away. Anything. But will that bastard do the same?

He can’t love you like I do. He could never.

Oikawa Tooru. Age 18. One older sister. Date of birth July 20, 2000. Lives in Kurihara-shi near the postal office with his parents. Attends Aoba Johsai High School, Class 3-6.

Him. Don’t you want to keep him safe, Y/N?”

internecine. | oikawa tooru

warnings: blackmail, angst

word count: 1154

(n.) mutually destructive

“Y/N-chan~ what’s with all the rush? Are we playing a game of tag you never told me about?”

Your obnoxious boyfriend (plus a gaggle of giggling girls sneaking up on him behind a pillar) trailed at your frenzied footsteps on the midday after that. You still haven’t told him yet. No, you weren’t even planning to tell him anything about it. You were already scared enough about it, and you didn’t want to burden Oikawa after his defeat by Shiratorizawa.

“Am I ‘it’?”

“Tooru.” You finally turned around, meeting him with dead-cold eyes. Those eyes and the way his name rolled off your tongue was enough to keep his advances at bay. “C-can we talk?”

“Sure.”

Eyes peering over the slope of his shoulders, your glare drilled a hole through the girls still watching from the nearby pillar. Without much consideration, you took the initiative to grab his unsuspecting hand and made a run for it.

Locking the classroom door behind you, your body slumped against the wooden frame, exhausted from all the extra cardio. You’re very much aware how short it would take for Oikawa’s fangirls to locate you; they were amazing in an unconventional way. There wasn’t going to be much time to spare to what you were going to tell him.

But how were you going to tell him?

“Hey, Tooru. My obsessive, pain-in-the-ass ex-boyfriend somehow found my phone number and he’s threatening to dump you into the ocean if I ignore him.”

You sighed. And you called yourself ‘creative’…

“Geez, Y/N… I knew you were one for games, but at least you gotta tell me what we’re playing.”

You almost forgot your boyfriend stood before you, arms crossed, a serious look dabbling across his features. “Is there something wrong, Y/N-chan?”

A lump of doubt rose in your throat, the truth threatening to spill out of your mouth. You couldn’t tell him. Not now at least. Maybe not ever. If you told him, you knew he’d try to spur up some bold solution that’d end up in some hot mess. Sure, the previous messes were fine to begin with, but this was your ex-boyfriend in question. Your obsessive, pain-in-the-ass ex-boyfriend. Were you really going to risk Tooru for the truth? What would become of him in the end?

“I-I…” you struggled, gaze fixed onto the wooden slats of the floor.

“…”

“I want to br-break up. I-I don’t think we’re going to work out…”

“……”

Say something, you idiot. You were quick to notice the brightness in Oikawa’s eyes disappear, like stars fading away at the wake of daylight. It was for the best, you repeated to yourself. For Tooru. There was no need for you to grovel in your despair.

“I can fix it, Y/N. Tell me how to fix it so…” he finally spoke, desperation clinging onto his pleas, “…s-so I can keep liking you…”

Your lips fell into a flat line, trembling at the sorry soul that was Aoba Johsai’s prized Oikawa Tooru. You wanted to cry, kneel with him on the ground, embrace him like nothing would ever come between the two of you. You wanted to tell him, I’m doing this to protect you! or I don’t want you to get hurt. But you left. It was the only thing you could do anyway.

“Y/N! Wait, please! I-I…”

His cries dissolved into white noise as your feet carried you out of the classroom, bringing Oikawa Tooru’s sure survival along with you.

Were you really going to end it like this? Letting the bad guy get what he wanted? You knew this wasn’t a shoujo manga, it was a seriously dangerous situation and submerging Oikawa deeper into your past wasn’t going to cauterize any wound.

Now, walking down the school halls led you into a cesspool of bitterness—where Oikawa wept, the entire student body wept with him. They made a point to even make sure you overheard their whispers under any circumstances. This was your punishment and you were willing to accept it.

For Tooru, you breathed, catching a glimpse of a trio of students sporting the Volleyball Club jacket talking quietly amongst themselves near the student restrooms. You recognized one of them as Iwaizumi, Oikawa’s childhood friend who probably would be able to take care of him without you.

“I don’t think we’ll structurally survive with the Captain’s emotional state,” one first year muttered. “H-he’s been pushing himself to the limit lately, I’m worried about him.”

“Geez, I haven’t seen him sulk like this since Shiratorizawa last term…” a pink-haired third year sighed, scratching the back of his neck gruffly. “Kindaichi’s right. Prelimins is in a few weeks, if he keeps all this stress training up then…”

“Then we support him,” Iwaizumi finally spoke.

Both the players and you perked up at his statement. Edging closer to the wall, you made sure the three didn’t catch you slipping your ears into their conversation.

“Oikawa’s a mess right now and our focus shouldn’t be on the cause nor the effect. We’re Aoba Johsai’s trustworthy volleyball team; our focus now should be Preliminaries,” he continued.

“I know Oikawa knows his boundaries as well as his priorities. I trust that he does. That’s why we can’t falter in front of him.”

Trust. It was something you always gave to others. You trusted your parents with your existence. You trusted your teachers with your goals. You trusted Oikawa with your entire living breath.

But you never let anyone give that trust to you.

Was it why you left? It was a merciless act of mercy after all. Not all sweet things can be painless.

Detaching yourself from the comforts of the concrete wall, you and Iwaizumi locked gazes before you walked off into your uncertain future.

One last message. You told yourself. And through your eyes, you told Iwaizumi Hajime:

“Take good care of Tooru for me.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #bruh-haikyuu writing #sfw #oikawa tooru scenario #aoba johnsai x reader

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Atlas: Space, Neptune

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 10/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 10: Neptune

Summary: Loki and Becca have decided to discuss the last decade of their lives without each other. Loki finds that his absence has done much more harm than he intended, but he vows to make amends. (Immediately after Glow.)

Warnings include: Language, mentions of suicide, disease, cancer, implied smut, angst but ends well?

Pitch black, pale blue It was a stained glass Variation of the truth And I felt empty handed

They were meant to be taking turns, telling each other what had happened in that stretch of years since they had last met. He truly wanted to tell Rebecca of every detail she had missed due to his self-imposed exile, but the second the coffee, eggs, and toast hit the table, they both felt eerily silent. Loki stared at the black liquid swirling in his mug, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Despite the growing discomfort, his eyes inevitably pulled to her. Even after all this time, the very sight of her, as different as it was now, made his heart stutter. It immediately morphed into a constricting pain in his chest, forcing him to clear his throat awkwardly.

You let me set sail With cheap wood So I patched up Every leak that I could ’til the blame grew too heavy

Could he tell her the truth?

Sure, she deserved it. More than anything–the jewels and vast empires he wanted to gift her–she deserved the truth. Could he tell her that he had run just because he was afraid? What kind of monster would that make him? Especially now that he knew how much she had hurt in his absence. It felt like such an empty excuse now–perhaps it always was. Through the dip in her v-neck long-sleeve shirt, he could spy a glossy scar, perfectly round, beneath her collarbone. He felt a momentary compulsion to brush his fingers against the shiny skin, but he closed his hands around his mug.

Stitch by stitch, I tear apart If brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy Thread by thread, I come apart If brokenness is a work of art Surely this must be my masterpiece

“Stop looking at me like that, for fuck’s sake,” she breathed out, teeth grit painfully tight. Loki blinked forcefully, and he almost asked what she meant before she interrupted. “Like you’re wondering whether or not I’m broken. I think you know I am.”

“No! I–” He stopped when she gave him a withering look for lying. “I’m sorry. It’s taking longer than I thought to reconcile seeing you…so different. It–”

Her face hardened, an expression that he was so unfamiliar with that it startled him. His own softened in response. “I did what I could with what I had. With who I had because I did not have the luxury to go off on some stupid space adventure–”

“I’m sorry. I will beg you on my knees until my dying breath for you to forgive me, but I can’t change any of that, Becca.” He growled at himself, taking a deep breath and staring upwards to get the prickling tears in his eyes under control. “Please, just eat your breakfast.”

“I’m not very hungry,” she replied, pushing her plate away.

“Rebecca,” he warned gently and she scoffed.

“You don’t get to do that, Loki.” She curled up in her seat, drawing her knees to her chest, protecting herself. “Coming back doesn’t give you an automatic pass. It doesn’t put us right back to where we left off.” Outside, the weather had taken its cues from her mood, and the window darkened with storm clouds.

I’m only honest when it rains If I time it right, the thunder breaks When I open my mouth I want to tell you, but I don’t know how

“I know. I am sorry. I am trying. I swear to you I am trying to figure out how to tell you that I am a shit individual and that I wish I could take back every single second that I wasn’t here. This wasn’t what I wanted for you. This was never–”

The tears finally won over, coming down his cheeks, unhindered, as he silently willed her to take a bite of toast, of eggs, anything. He clenched his eyes shut, head hanging low. His eyes had spied more shiny bits of skin, but these made his blood run cold.

“What are those scars?”

The way he asked the question left out any doubt of him knowing exactly what they were. He didn’t even need to watch her to know she had shifted her arms inwards.

I’m only honest when it rains An open book with a torn out page And my ink’s run out I want to love you, but I don’t know how

I don’t know how No, I don’t know how I don’t know how I want to love you, but I don’t know how

I want to love you…

“Desperation,” she answered after a long, long silence. “I didn’t have a Bifrost handy.”

She offered him a tight-lipped smile when his eyes shot up. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know, but the confirmation hurt all the same. He had been honest with her about his inner turmoil after he discovered he was adopted. It wasn’t a secret that he had let go of his adoptive father’s spear without a second thought. Becca had been so angry to learn that he felt like there was nothing else to do but fall into the abyss. He now understood that rage.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Becca snorted. “It’s kind of a one-person job, Lo.”

“That’s not funny!” He roared, landing his fist on the table hard enough to make the flatware rattle.

“You’re right. You’re right. It would’ve been a joke if I had said I needed a better supervisor to finish the job,” she riposted, deadpan.

His hand clenched around his coffee mug, almost debating if it was worth it to throw it against the wall so that it would relieve some of his tension, but deciding against it. He hurriedly swallowed a sip that scalded all the way to his stomach.

“I don’t know why you’re upset. You wanted to know what happened. That’s what happened. I worked, alone. I mourned your death. I got sick. I got carved up like a roast. I was sick while still being sick. I didn’t want to do it, anymore. I did something about it. I failed. Now you’re here. And I am glad, but loving you doesn’t make anything else any less real and it doesn’t make me any less angry.”

Her words felt like a weight upon his chest, threatening to crack it open.

“How can you still love me?” Loki’s voice was small and shaky.

That was the real question, wasn’t it? How could she even harbor indifference for him after his abandonment. He didn’t deserve her light, her kindness, her well-placed rage.

“I don’t know.”

Pitch black, pale blue These wild oceans Shake what’s left of me loose Just to hear me cry mercy

A strong wind at my back So I lift up the only sail that I have This tired white flag

The dam broke. A sob wrenched her chest and she lowered her head to her hands, fingers pulling at the short tresses in what had to be a painful way. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “None of this makes sense, but we never made sense, did we?”

Loki finally moved out of his seat, taking a knee in front of her and tracing shapes on her knees over her plaid pajama bottoms. “That’s not quite true, is it? You and I always clicked rather well, despite how much of a bad idea that was.”

“There’s not much left of me, nowadays, to click to anything.”

“I’ll give you every piece you need to be whole, again,” he assured. “Every molecule of me is already on borrowed time and I will give every instant to you if it’ll make you smile–”

Becca covered his mouth with her hand, which she dropped once he nodded in agreement of his silence. “I can’t live with promises, anymore. Don’t promise me a thing–”

“But–”

“Loki. A promise is worth nothing if you don’t follow through.”

“I swore to you that I would stay until you demand I leave.” He swallowed thickly and breathed deep. “I know I said that before, but I was an idiot, too scared to lose you, too scared of his own demons to love you as you deserved.” He settled back on his haunches, giving her space to breathe. “I am here for you, body, heart and soul. I surrender to you and only you. This is the only place I want to be, Becca.”

With a sniffle, she joined him on the floor, slipping into his arms to hug his middle. She shuddered at the familiarity of his touch, slightly cool, and smelling like pine and cinnamon.

Loki tentatively lowered his lips to hers, tasting the few sips of bitter coffee on her tongue. His body knew how to navigate far before his mind had even caught up to what was occurring. He sought to comfort her frantic nerves, hanging by the barest threads, soothe her mind and ease her burden. Lips trailed down her jaw until they reached her neck, where they settled against her pulse and nipped. When his fingers itched at the hem of her shirt, she stopped him with a hand around his wrist.

“I apologize. I moved too fast,” he panted, moving a fraction back to look at her face. A flash of lightning illuminated her face in an eerie glow.

I don’t know how, know how, know how I want to love you, but I don’t know how

I want to love you…

A dark shadow crossed her expression. “No, it’s not that.” He prompted her to continue with a nod. “I’m not the same.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head as a deterrent. “It’s not the weight, it's…”

He frowned, catching the hem of her shirt. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking for permission. Becca simply looked away, clenching her eyes shut. Loki slowly hitched her t-shirt up, ignoring the sight of her ribs, sticking out awkwardly, knowing he could remedy that easily enough, and soared past until reaching two large scars on her chest just below her now mutilated breasts.

“Who did this to you?”

Becca clenched her eyes tighter. This was clearly one of those things she did not want to talk about, but he wanted–needed–to know. “I got sick again,” she repeated for what she felt was the millionth time that day. “They had to…”

“Cancer?” He asked, breathlessly, his fingers tracing over her scars with a featherlight touch. He was familiar with the Midgardian disease, though he had not met anyone to suffer it, firsthand. She nodded her assent, jerkily. “Again? What do you mean, again?” Holding her breath, she leaned back, pulling her bottoms down just enough to show him the scar between her hips. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when–”

“You were dead,” she said as way of excuse.

“I still heard your pain,” he admitted, swathing her skin with his hands. She only looked half surprised. “I was meant for Valhalla and through the darkness I heard you, and all I wanted was to reach you.” He pressed his forehead against hers.

“You did.”

“Much too late, dove.” He cursed under his breath, for what felt like the millionth time. “I should have stayed. I could have helped, anything.” When he couldn’t bare the what ifs any longer, he kissed her again, pulling her body into his. “I intend to make amends,” he husked, attacking her neck with renewed fervor, forcing a groan from Becca’s mouth. Her brief hesitation was short-lived as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he lowered them both to the floor.

“Thank you,” she murmured as the lay naked and panting on the floor some time later. “For not freaking out.”

“Why would I? I get to discover every inch of you all over again,” he replied, smiling contentedly, fingers idly brushing the scar over her womb in a way that made her shiver.

“Same.” She tapped a scar over his chest with her index. “What happened there?”

“That’s a long story,” he sighed, resting his head on her chest to listen to the steady thumping of her heart.

“We have time.”

“That we do.” He smiled, realized the implication of the phrase. He was to stay. “Well, it started with my oaf of a brother…”

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Others #Submitted fic #submission #Fanfictrashdump #chapter 10 #atlas space #neptune

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commonalex · 4 years

Text

Broken Nose

-Oh my, a talking fox!

-Oh my, a talking fattie!

-Wait, what?

I don’t know what else I could expect coming down here from the tower today. I had this bad feeling stepping into the woods for the first time. It was really on the nose.

-He he, “on the nose”. Never gets old!

-Huh?

The fox keeps on giggling but maybe not on purpose. Judging by the dirty yellowish fur and the burnt patches on its weak body, you could say this creature has seen better days.

-Uhhh girl? Still here. I can hear, you know.

Wherever this fox was (before it comes to horrify me) the fire must’ve get it just in time, but it doesn’t look like hurting. On the contrary, the fox is playfully stretching like a cat on the dirt. I guess I seem so damn funny (or pathetic) for it to dare to come so near. Not that I would mind some chit chat at the time, I haven’t spoke to a person (or whatever that is) for far too long. But the way it follows me around with this sarcastic laugh rubs me the wrong way.

-Come on now, foxxy, I’m seriously busy right now. I can’t afford spending time with you. Stay away and no one gets hurt, nosey.

“Nosey”? Ha ha! It’s like you already know!

-Whatever.

I throw middle fingers and keep on my route putting in and out the batteries of my walkie talkie. No luck. Dad (or whoever was talking at the frequency I was catching from the tower) didn’t speak a word again and of course no one’s around here as far as I can see. So I already had my misery, but I guess I should come down here to play hide and seek besides still life. Thank god it’s still afternoon with the sun beaming through the trees so I am not scared shitless yet.

But still, the fire keeps on burning whatever is on its way and no one bothers if I’m burned alive or not one of those days. So here comes the panic again. I’m climbing a tree to see the valley burning a bit better, while screaming furiously on the walkie talkie in case signal comes up. I scream my lungs out, touch my throat, lose balance, slip of the trunk and fall face first. When I managed to get up blood was pouring off my nose like a fountain. I guess I knew better when I was staying in the watch tower picking my…

-...”nose”, huh? He he he. You are funny, but you really don’t listen.

I turn around to stare at the fox in a way so it gets the message and run away from me but here it is with its eyes shining like it’s waiting for something. I walk slowly to a direction, here it is following me, here it is talking shit about me, here it is turning to go somewhere else, here I am trying to catch her from going towards the fire, and we’re back at the start. Fuck it, I say. I let her leave to stop worrying. And that’s how I get lost in here. You see, all this time I had the smoke as compass and with all this chasing I failed to notice that the fumes scattered all over the place. I raise my head to see the sun radiating this weird red-like colors. Why on earth am I still here?

-Does anybody listen on this channel? I know some of you do. Dad, can you hear me? I’m the fire lookout and try to find you all this time. If you hear me, tell me your location so I can get to you. Copy?

I’d be damned if this walkie talkie thingy is even necessary at this point. They have probably gone deaf by my stupid screaming.

-Just hoping you understand how futile this is. It’s like the thousandth time I tell you that at this exact point, but I have my hopes that one day you will stop doing this. Mainly to yourself. Just like I have my hopes that you will stop wearing shorts that make your thighs look unevenly thick.

-Can you please help me with your mouth shut? All it takes is a second to become human torches. I don’t need your kind of silly attitude.

-Pardon me? What attitude. I said what I said for your own good. But I don’t judge you. Spending all this time trapped in here, no wonder why your brain got a bit rusty.

-Trapped?

The fox’s looking at me head to toes, sighs and sits in front of me waiting for something once again. What, exactly? No idea, but I wish it would be something that would take my guilt away and leave this thing get baked. It would smell like cooked fox all over to the watch tower.

-Highly doubt you could smell anything with a nose that fucked up.

-Shut-your-god-damn-mouth.

I get caught off guard by the walkie talkie screeching with an incomprehensible voice. I don’t get much, just small phrases like “wish you could hear me” or “one sign of life” and such. All enough to hear my dad on this. I press to reply with my hands shaking by the stress. I keep on losing him, without ever getting my voice across. Signal worsens, but if I can hear him that must mean he is somewhere around here, right? But what if he is somewhere near the fire? I’m mic screaming “DAD JUST TELL ME IF YOU’RE HERE” like a ten year old and that’s where I lose all contact.

Trying to catch a breath on a treat I get blood in my mouth (which has got everywhere and made me look sick) and burst into tears. I feel finished. I watch the ash raining down on my from the coal black slope on my right and I’m feeling shaky once again. I don’t even know if I’m crying being here all alone or because by the next few meters I could see my dad… You know how. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I see something like that.

-Come on, girl, please, don’t say that. I’ve listened to you say that like a hundred times and every time my heart is screaming for mercy. Come, get up.

Barely even remembered the fox is there all along.

-What do you want from me?

-Dunno. Company? A little adventure? This boredom you feel all this time on that watch tower all alone, I get that too. But you only make us the favor to come down here and spend time when you catch your dad on the radio. Only then I really have something to do.

-So you have seen me up there?

-If I seen you? What else could a fox occupy it’s mind inside those fucked up woods than stalk a fire lookout in her fourties? You know, playing with the binoculars, searching up radio frequencies, drinking beer and listening to the same music all day from her cd player? Is there anything better around here?

-What forties? I’m seventeen.

-Well I’m telling you, you absolutely are in your thirties at least.

-Why do I even bother.

But chatting with the fox really makes you forget, whatever bs you have to endure. And you have to endure a lot. And a lot of stuff the fox says are disses that don’t make much sense. However company is very much needed at this point, inside a dirt pool filling up with ash and red smoke.

-I’m not here to make your life difficult.

-I don’t even know why you’re here. And how come you talk? If that’s not too much.

-Why are you stuck on these questions by now? You do this every time. Even though that’s the first time I see fire getting that big around here. And to be fair you got lost in the woods too early this time. And to be honest I’m kinda like a baby boy right now, asking for his mama, cause I have no clue what the hell is going on.

-”Baby boy”? Are you male?

He looks at me with the most dead and disappointed stare a fox could ever have. I don’t know why I assumed he was a girl. But since he can hear me in my head, I apologize for perpetuating those kind of stereotypes. My bad. Ok? The fox nods as agreeing. we are ok.

During all that I forgot I had the walkie talkie on my back pocket so when it started “whistling” again I got shivers. Trying to hold it with my shaky fingers I drop it like the useless scum I am. Even the fox gave me a disappointed look.

The signal was better this time. I could hear for about five minutes non stop before I tried (with no luck) to respond. This is for sure not my dad. Those weird fast paced accents that invade the back of my ears are definitely from my mother. She even said her catchphrase “look at your own lil princess”.

“...should we keep on putting up a show anymore, darling?”.

“I’m tired. You wanna hear me say it? I say it right now.“.

“...I don’t understand? So am I the bad one and the heartless bitch once again?”.

“...please accept the bitter reality. We really missed the boat...”.

And then silence again.

Same attitude, same lines played out a thousand times in the kitchen or in front of people. The same arguing over and over again with dad. The reason was always dumb, but her voice here doesn’t seem so irritating. Something serious must have happened for my dead mommy to cry like a pig.

-No crying? So you’re over it?

-Don’t know.

-I get it, we’re still at the point where you adapt to all this. We have a little bit of walking left till you have to get back.

-Tell me, what’s this thing you seem to know but I don’t?

-We know the same. I’m just here as a reminder, like an alarm clock of some sort. You know, like that fox alarm clock you had besides your bed when you were younger? Do you remember? You even brought it to the watch tower. Weird to have an alarm clock if you’re waking up at noon, though. You a freaking fire lookout, woman.

It was a while until my brain got to work again. The fox was right, he is just like that alarm clock I have since a kid. How did I not see it before? And what does that mean now? Well, we know we won’t get any further just by asking. I don’t know if what I feel about that creature is trust, intimacy or curiosity. And those enigmatic stuff he throws here and there get tiresome. We walk and chit chat without noticing the orange fog swallowing everything within a meter around us. All we see in front of us now are burnt tree trunks and melting animals. All of them teddy bears I had while being a baby potato. If my heartbeat wasn’t hitting those three digits I would get goosebumps right now.

I’m covering mouth and nose with my hand and try to guess where the fox is, as he’s running in circles stunned. He doesn’t seem to care if we find my parents before we all get barbecued anymore. He is too busy looking somehow concerned at all this damaged landscape.

-Tell me, how long have you seen me in secret? Spent all the summer over there and I never saw a single soul besides you right now, my secret admirer.

-Are you serious? What summer? Get it together. We wasted our young years here. But what am I even saying and basically to whom. Sometimes I wish I had your luck playing in this kind of playground. You could say disconnection from the environment has its moments.

-I’m volunteering for the summer, that’s all. It was written on the papers I signed, too. I think.

-Wait… Is that it?

-After all that I’m going back home to find out if where I’m studying by September. It’s pretty much over.

-...so this was it all along? Disconnecting? -Wait, did I take the entrance exams? My brain just froze.

-Would you shut up about your exams? Something’s wrong.

-How could I forget exams, though? After all this studying?

-Oh man. We really are in deep shit and now’s the time for you to turn your nose up at what is happening.

-Oh, here we go with these nose jokes again.

-No, no. Didn’t mean it in a literal way. That was unfortun… Ah, you get it, right?

-Maybe that’s why there’s not a single soul down here. You must’ve killed them all with your crap.

-I don’t have a good feeling about this. Our routine feels off. We have done this walk so many times and something’s not quite ok right now. It seems as if we’re stuck at the same place for hours and I guess…

-”Guess” what…?

-...we’re lost. I guess.

Oh-you-don’t-say. When you spend so much time fucking with a broken person’s nerves, you tend miss what’s happening. We’re technically blind and we just go around for hours. Are we running away from the fire? Going straight at it? Only god know, because everything turned brown around here. We’re bumping trees and get shitless when we step on those blackened teddy bear bellies. I don’t lose my chance of cursing out the fox for driving us here, but all he cares about it digging holes while “trying to find our designated course”. That’s how we spend our next hour. Or maybe more since my watch stopped.

-How much battery is left in the walkie talkie?

-One line. And I swear I had it full, just like every time.

-”Just like every time”?

-Every time I climb down the watch tower to get here.

The fox leaves the digging on the side and looks at me with his eyes wide open. My brain gets stuck for a moment and before he gets to respond I get vertigo. When I return to normal he keeps on asking again and again if I “know”, as if I get what he is trying to say. I’m searching for the sun above us to make everything around me stop flickering, but no luck, so I have the fox right beside me irritating me with these questions while I’m throwing up.

-Oh boy, you really don’t listen. That’s it, we’re going back. Now.

-Back where? I have my parents over here!

-You play the fool all this time. We have to go back to the starting point, don’t you get it? With you at the watch tower listening to your parents on the radio, coming down to the woods and find me while breaking your nose. Dunno how more fucked up your nose can be than right now, but we might save our asses.

-You are the most irritating talking fox I’ve ever seen.

-Wow, that’s a lot. Now give me the walkie talkie.

-Stop, YOU’RE GONNA BREAK IT!

-WOULD YOU STOP THE BULLSHIT SO WE CAN SAVE OURSELVES?

-DON’T.

The walkie talkie slips, falls upon some cracked branches and shutters to a million pieces. Our eyes are glued to the ground, scanning for every piece in case we lose it. Time suddenly hits the brake, the orange fog from before has grown to this sick deep red light from the sun that sets down the edge of the valley as if we are in literal hell. Is this it?

-Nah. Not yet at least.

-Cut it out.

-Sure.

I’m paralysed. My head can’t get through this twisted procedure anymore; days are marching one after another as the same exact instance being copied again and again. I tried so much to resist but my “job” here stopped helping a long time ago. Every bit on me seems hurt and rough. How long was I force to see everything slowly catch fire as I try to not get burnt alive? I could never know. All I know is how much washed out I feel here. Breaking my face, getting lost and playing chase with flames while asking for my dad through a stupid walkie talkie. Not that I ever need it to hear him. I got him right beside my ear all the time.

Even now.

“Stop acting like that, you’re an old man. It’s like you think I’m not in pain myself.”.

“But is it so easy for you?”.

“You think I’m not suffering inside? We’re in the same boat and we’re sinking.”.

“And what is she stood up right now? Looking at you and asking you what were we discussing just before?”.

“Twenty years, dear. Twenty years talking ‘bout the same damn things. Our daughter is gone, don’t you listen to the doctors? Am I wasting away on my own? Am I struggling to keep up with money by myself just to keep on hoping? Why are you doing this? Why in front of others, dear?”.

“I won’t bear this. I can’t bear this.”.

“It’s time to let her rest, us too. Or whatever is left there...”.

“Don’t cry, damn it. Don’t you see I’m holding it myself?”.

That’s my mom. Stiff as one can be at first just to breakdown in the end. Now my dad must hug her with those big ass arms until she eventually calms down. What I’d do to see them now, even though they must got so old through all those years.

When my mother stopped sobbing I wiped my eyes and saw the fire waiting ten steps away. Clothes, shoes, all of them slowly melt and drop to the boiling ground. I take the fox in my arms and run away in case we can get saved somehow. The fox doesn’t seem to have much time left. All I see is burnt fur and burst open skin. I barely have the courage to look at his face with this bloody tongue and two concerning little eyes.

-Can you still talk?

-As much as you can run.

He knows what he’s talking about. My body is slowing growing heavy and lags to respond. We are really dead meat.

-So nothing in here is real, huh? It’s all in my head.

-Does it matter? The point was to get a bit away from all of this. To stretch this as much as possible, until you wake up or until you… You know…

I’m not forcing the conversation any more. I’m grateful for his stance amidst all this chaos. He looks at me and nods to seal the mutual understanding. I smile and the saltiness from the tears and the blood goes right into my mouth. Awkward yet suitable.

When my feet start to sink from the upward sprint up the hill, the watch tower is finally revealed about a hundred meters away.

-A little bit of patience, we’re here.

-All of this is so unnecessary. We’re gonna be consumed by the fire in the end.

-I need to talk to them. Last try. Promise.

-As if we had more.

The rusty ladder moans while I climb it with the fox on my right soldier. The door of the tower room slams by the wind and all the glass windows are shattered with dust pilling up all the way to my knee. All the beer can thrown out, all the books and cds buried; only the desk with the main radio got away through all this. I lie down the fox on a corner of the bed and I examine the completely fucked up world outside. Everything is red and everything flickers in the flames. It’s a matter of minutes now.

I plug the radio and fix the antenna that gets dragged by the wind outside. The fox is watching me like he wants to make sure I do everything right. I make a weird gesture with my hand to reassure him during his last moments and he smiles. Then I play with the mic switch in my hands due to awkwardness. How much time do I have left? Judging the fire coming close to the window I kinda get the idea. But it seems I don’t need this kind of boogieman anymore to live and move in here; just patience. So I’m looking the frequencies one by one, calling and waiting for a response.

-I don’t know if you can hear me, maybe you escaped. Old people don’t particularly stand those situations. I just called for the sake of it. I called to say it’s ok and I understand, dad. And please tell the other not to whine and be bitter. The only thing missing right now is one last hug with you. If only I could feel a touch on my hand, damn it. Anyway, I’m tired. Be strong. I have no idea if, but I wish we meet again someday. Somewhere by the sea if it’s easy. So much desolation and so much pine, I can’t stand it anymore.

It’s like I had it written down with the words flowing so easily. I repeated them about twenty or thirty times out loud until my mouth went completely dry. I turn off the mic and look at the flame waving me from every direction. I wave back.

-We’ve said it well, even though no one got to hear it. The most beautiful in vain gesture ever.

How poetic. Didn’t know he had it in him.

I leave the radio in a frequency full of white noise to scratch my ears to oblivion. I don’t wanna hear my head go off until they reply back. Afterwards I give a tight hug to the fox with all power I have left to a point I think I’m strangling him. He doesn’t flinch, he understands. We sigh together and watch in slow motion the whole process. Fire knocking on the door to come in, surrounding everything, painting them all with a different color as I leave my sweat (and something more) on this cheap mattress. Maybe they didn’t get my message, I think, and I’m kinda holding a grudge at myself. Maybe if I had another chance I wouldn’t waste so much time. Maybe I could even wake up and see them, even if that meant I would die right after. Talk about bad luck, twenty years here and the alarm clock never get me out of bed once. My nerves. I have so much anger I could a person right now. I swear if someone would close my nostrils right now I’d explode from rage.

-So much for breaking your nose, I guess.

-For the love of god SHUT UP.

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