#she thinks his ghost half died or faded or went to peace so
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shattered saviors
DannyMay2023 Day 21: Shatter
title: shattered saviors
words: 2475
Complete
Summary: Danny gets a horrifying glimpse into the intense negative reaction of Amity Park, and especially his parents, when Dani is accidentally revealed to be half ghost and is taken into GIW custody. (Courtesy of @danphanwritingprompts post here.)
AU: None/pre season 3
Warnings: Minor Character Death
Beta: @probably-dead
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“In other news today, the Guys in White have released a statement on the hybrid they recently discovered, dubbed Danielle Phantom for her striking similarity to our own Danny Phantom.” The image of the reporter faded, instead showing a picture of a document against a blue screen, various sentences digitally highlighted in yellow as she read them. “Today, the experiment known as Danielle Phantom was successfully Faded. We were able to confirm the hybridism found in ‘Danielle’ was unique and unable to be replicated, there is no fear of other hybrids at this time. We thank the people of Amity Park who have supported us despite the small group of teenage protestors. We hope peace can return to the city, now that the creature has been disposed of. Its connection to Danny Phantom is still unclear, but we will continue to study the remains in hopes of discovering it.”
The image of the reporter reappeared, easily sliding into the next topic - something about the upcoming holidays - but ice began to creep up the screen.
“Danny?” Tucker asked at his side, shivering at the chill coming from his best friend.
The halfa turned to Tucker and he tried to rein in his ice. Tucker was only human, after all. Before Danny could say anything his phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket, not even checking the caller ID before answering it. He knew who it was.
“I didn’t get her in time.” Vlad said, regret and guilt in his voice.
“She’s gone? She’s really gone?” Danny asked, too numb to even cry.
“I was able to confirm that via my connections, yes. They got me in to see her too late.”
“Okay.” Danny said, ending the call.
His entire being felt disconnected from reality. Danielle was dead. Caught in a trap meant for him. They’d been holding protests for two weeks, trying to insist she was human enough to be released, to not be tortured. Almost all of the youth of Amity had stood behind her, even Wes, who had stopped trying to expose Danny as soon as he heard what happened to Ellie.
But the adults were louder, more able. And they insisted that Ellie was dangerous and needed to be contained. A ghost who could pretend to be human? What havoc could they cause and then fly completely under the radar? The negative influence on the youth of Amity, who were already too pro-ghost to begin with?
Even Vlad had tried to save her - though Danny still was unsure if it was because he genuinely was afraid for her or just that the GIW had a halfa in their custody.
Danny couldn't remember the rest of the night. He just existed, too numb to hurt or think or do anything.
Days passed in that fog. He went to school. He pretended to learn. He stopped ghost attacks. He tried to sleep. Every night, he just faced the same nightmares. Danielle, experimentally tortured until she died screaming, alone and in pain, wondering where her brother/cousin was, maybe even wondering where her father was.
It should have been him. The trap was meant for him. He should be the one dead.
Vlad somehow got Ellie’s body. She had left behind a human corpse, not a pile of destabilized goo. Vlad had tried to check her, to see if maybe she had somehow survived, maybe this was some sort of protective hibernation state. But Vlad looked and he found her still heart, found her shattered core. He and Danny buried her body in the back of Vlad’s mayoral mansion. They didn’t know what else to do. She wasn’t human. She couldn’t get a headstone or a human grave. So instead of being mourned properly, she was placed into a shallow grave, only the other halfas present. No one else had ever met her.
Well, no one else had ever met her who loved her.
No one who had ever met her who hadn’t hurt her, a sin even Vlad and Danny were guilty of.
Still, Danny went to school. Pretended to learn. Fought ghosts. Slept only for nightmares to haunt him.
The other students had looked bad for the first few days. It was hard not to, everyone had seen Danielle’s human side, seen a terrified twelve year old girl who’d fallen two stories after being shot by a power nullification weapon only to be held at gunpoint by government agents while she cried. Eventually, though, even the high schoolers returned to normal.
It should’ve been Danny. Danny should be the one rotting in the ground. Not Danielle.
Not Danielle.
Danny didn’t listen to his parents in the month following Danielle’s death. They wished they had gotten the chance to study her themselves, see how hybridism was even possible. Run their own battery of tests, torture her themselves. The parents didn’t understand why he and Jazz were pulling away from them.
The numbness didn’t let up until six weeks later. A weekend patrol and he’d stumbled across an animal ghost attacking a human on the edge of town, the person hiding under a personal ghost shield of Fenton creation on their wrist.
Danny didn’t even have to fight the animal, it was low level enough he could just trap it immediately in the Thermos. He was about to fly away when the human stopped him.
“Oh thank God, Phantom!” He said, turning off the shield.
Hmph. They didn’t even feel the need for a shield around him, a full ghost for all they knew, yet had damned Ellie to hell under a scalpel. Danny wasn’t going to even respond, just leave, until he recognized the man’s face.
“I know you.” Danny said, the numb mask he’d hidden behind starting to fracture.
“You’ve saved me a few times!” The man said, a relaxed grin on his face.
“You were an organizer for the pro-GIW protests.” Danny responded, ice beginning to form on the ground far beneath his feet, his words cold and devoid of any happy emotion.
The man paled slightly, taking a step back. “Uh… she was dangerous!” He tried to excuse pitifully.
“And I’m not?” Danny asked, drifting closer to the man, less than six inches from his face as Danny’s mask of numbness shattered under the force of his anger, not even blinking. “I’m not?”
“You’re not…” the man gulped anxiously. “Your obsession is protecting us. You wouldn’t hurt us.”
“Obsessions. Aren’t. Real.” He hissed, grabbing the man’s wrist and squeezing until the man screamed. Danny didn’t even know the man’s name, just that he’d been a very public organizer in the campaign to keep Danielle in the government’s hands.
“Stop! Please!”
“Do you think my sister begged?” Danny growled. “For them to please stop as they tortured her, murdered her?”
“Sister?” The man repeated weakly.
“Sister.” Danny confirmed, danger in his voice. Danny had been numb for over a month and a half at this point and now his anger had cracked through the numbness and he found himself understanding Dan a little bit better.
“You’re a hybrid too?” The man realized, visibly shaking in panic, desperately trying to pull his wrist from Danny’s ironclad grip.
Danny felt the grin creep onto his face. He felt like he should probably care that he was delighting in this terror, in what he was about to do. “I am. But I can’t risk the Guys in White learning that, can I?” He finally answered. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he squeezed harder on the man’s wrist, shattering both his bone and the personal shield he wore.
The man screamed in agony, collapsing to his knees as soon as Danny released him. Danny had never enjoyed hurting anything and had never hurt a human before, but this was downright elating. “I’m sorry!” The man yelled, looking up at Danny’s angry, unblinking, glowing green eyes.
“I’m not.” Danny answered, uncapping the Thermos and releasing the ghostly animal. The man tried to scramble backwards but Danny summoned a shield, trapping the three of them within it. The animal looked to Danny, submitting to the more powerful ghost, before glancing at the trembling human, whose hand was rapidly turning purple, though the animal did sit, deferring to Danny once more.
Danny hadn’t really looked at the creature before trapping it so he took a moment to study it, the man beginning to sob. Maybe a coyote or wolf? It looked too big to be a dog - not that it really mattered, he supposed, considering Cujo. It didn’t help that the animal hadn’t held its form very well, its edges too wispy and curvy for any real animal. Wolf, he decided.
His study of the wolf done, he returned to the man, staring directly into his eyes. The man flinched at the anger, the rage he saw. “Please…” the man tried to beg, crying. “I have a family.”
“So did she.” Danny said, turning to the animal. “Sic ‘em.” He ordered.
The wolf, despite being unable to truly understand Danny’s words, understood his intent and read his aura. It stood, growling as it slowly approached the human.
Danny had always thought the screams of someone being hurt would rip into his very being, a failure for his self-appointed job of protecting Amity.
But he didn’t feel bad. Human blood had already been spilt here and it hadn’t been by a ghost.
If the humans didn’t even care… why should he? Why should he give a damn about human life?
For the first time in two years, a human had died to a ghost. And Danny didn’t care. They were lucky he bothered to catch the wolf at the end of it, petting its cold head as it licked blood from its muzzle.
The next day was when Danny learned the man’s name. Edward Canton, leaving behind a widow and two young children. Still, Danny didn’t care, even as he heard snippets of conversation at school.
“I can’t believe someone actually died.” An underclassman whispered.
“I didn’t think any of the ghosts would ever actually hurt us.” Another said in hushed tones.
“Are we in danger?” Someone else wondered.
The thing he heard the most, the repeated question.
“Where was Phantom?”
“How could Phantom let this happen?”
“Doesn’t Phantom always protect us?”
The questions were echoed in the news, by the adults, even by his parents, wondering if this death would finally destroy Phantom from his ‘failure’ to save the human, ‘failure’ to sustain his Obsession.
For a city who had let a child be tortured to death for being only part ghost, they were awfully reliant on a suspected full-ghost.
“Are you… the death, are you alright?” Sam asked.
“I can’t always save everyone.” Danny said, feigning sadness.
“How are you holding up?” Tucker asked later.
“I’ll be fine. I can’t be everywhere at once.” He’d answered, still pretending to be sad.
He couldn’t tell Sam or Tucker. They’d never understand his decision to let the man - the man who didn’t even deserve a name, as far as Danny was concerned - be killed. To watch and do nothing. To take pleasure in the screams. They’d worry he was becoming Dan. He wasn’t, though.
Danny tried to put his mask back on after, to be engulfed in the comfort of numbness, but the mask was gone and left only anger behind. He could no longer access the fog that allowed him to drift through life.
More weeks passed, now nearly three months since the announcement of Danielle’s death. Danny had at least found a routine… though it wasn’t his old one. He still went to school and pretended to learn. Still struggled to sleep and battled nightmares of Ellie’s screams. But the ghost fights?
Well… the ones who deserved to be saved, he still saved. Children and teens, people who’d joined the protests, who were too young to protest. But no adult had joined to try to save her. No adult was innocent. Whether through action or inaction, all were guilty of her death.
So he would watch the joy and relief on their faces when they saw Phantom come to save them, only to turn to terror and panic when he trapped them, when he simply stared at them and watched them die. When he grinned at their screams, when he asked them if they thought Ellie begged for her life the way they were begging for theirs.
When they realized their savior was not bound to protecting them and they had pushed him too far.
“Aren’t you going to save them?” Vlad Masters asked, watching people run from the opposite direction, a commotion they couldn’t yet see from the restaurant the two sat at. They’d begun to bond after Danielle’s death, Vlad’s guilt finally soothing out some of his more evil edges and Danny growing more tolerant of what was still there.
“I save innocents.” Danny answered, shrugging, poking at the food in front of him. His appetite still had not returned.
“So the rumors from the Realms are true. You’ve stopped saving people.” Vlad stated, taking a sip of his nearly boiling tea. Heat didn’t hurt him like ice didn’t hurt Danny.
“If they aren’t innocent, yes.”
“Who’s innocent?”
“The ones who tried to save Danielle and anyone who was too young to help.”
“So, what? All the adults of Amity are guilty?” Vlad asked, a smirk sliding onto his face.
“Of either encouraging the GIW outright or of the same thing I am.” Danny confirmed.
“Which is?”
“Watching and doing nothing because it isn’t my problem.”
Vlad chuckled. “You’re becoming more and more like me, little badger.”
Danny paused as he realized Vlad was right. He was making decisions based on who he felt had slighted him or Danielle, decisions with potentially fatal consequences. Again, he sought a feeling of guilt.
Again, he found none. “If they wanted a ghostly hero, they shouldn’t have been so obvious in their ghost hatred.”
“How are your friends and sister taking that?”
“They think I’m ashamed. That I care about and mourn everyone I don’t save. Maybe the town will earn their hero back. Until then?” Danny paused, pointing across the street where an adult woman was cornered, cowering under the glare of two humanoid ghosts Danny couldn’t place a name to. She screamed as their claws dug into her. “Until then, it isn’t my problem.”
“How would they earn you back?”
Danny shrugged. “That’s their problem to figure out. An apology to begin with would be nice. But they’ll never do that, will they?”
And the topic moved to more bland conversations even as the woman’s dying screams echoed around them.
But it was fine. Danny wasn’t actively killing anyone, so he wasn’t becoming Dan, and that was all he’d promised.
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she's insignificant
chapter 4: run girl run
the umbrella academy x reader
disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.
warnings: mentions of blood
masterlist
"you will be working on locating number five instead" reginald instructed the young girl. she raised her head in shock.
"what?"
"come, we must work in solitude" he ignored her confusion, uncaring for her feelings as usual. he lead her down the stairs. she only remembered coming down here once as a child, it was when vanya was sick. reginald showed her to a vault like room. she stared at it, unsure.
"you will be training down here from now on, your siblings will not disrupt you down here"
the h/c haired girl stared at the room with wide eyes. her siblings wouldn't disrupt her or she wouldn't disrupt them..?
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"like i said to your son earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential. without the client's consent i simply can't help" lance biggs sat in his office chair, staring at klaus as he talked. five stood beside the chair y/n sat in, hands in pockets and annoyed.
"well, we can't get consent if you don't give us a name" five leaned in, gritting his teeth.
"well, that's not my problem" lance shrugged, "sorry, now there's really nothing i can do so.."
"oh, what about my consent?" klaus looked up now, gaining five and y/n's attention. what was he doing? "who gave you permission to lay your hands on my son?"
"what?" the other three people in the room all spoke in unison.
"you heard me"
"i didn't touch your son" lance argued, glancing at five.
"oh, really?" klaus begun to lean forwards, moving to stand up. "well then how did he that swollen lip then?"
"he doesn't have a swollen lip-" lance was cut off as klaus struck five across the face. five touched a hand to his now bleeding lip, glaring at klaus in confusion.
"and, what about my daughter? how dare you lay a hand on her. she's so sweet and innocent" klaus turned to y/n now, gesturing to her. she awaited a hit now, sure he was going to punch her. "how could you assault her like that?" and just as she thought he slapped a hand across her face, leaving a bright red hand print.
"i want it. name please, now" klaus turned back to lance, leaning on his desk. the doctor raised a shaky finger at him.
"you're crazy"
"you got no idea" klaus laughed breathlessly before taking notice of the snow globe resting on the desk. he picked it up smiling as he read it. "'peace on earth' that's so sweet" y/n jumped in surprise as he smashed it over his head, groaning in pain. he held his hands to his face for a moment before looking back up, hair dripping with water and glitter. blood dripped down the side of his head.
lance quickly dialled a number into the phone, lifting it to his ear. he was still in shock, "i'm calling security- what are you doing?!"
y/n stood and gently gripped five's blazer sleeve, pulling him back as klaus ripped the phone from lance's grip. five glanced at her in confusion but then realised what was happening as he barely missed an elbow to the face as klaus dramatically cried into the phone.
"there's been an assault in mr biggs office and we need security now, schnow!" klaus slammed the phone back onto the table before leaning close to lance. "here's what's gonna happen grant"
"it's lance-"
"in about 60 seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door and they're gonna see a whole lot of blood and they're gonna wonder what the hell happened and we're gonna tell them that you, beat the shit out of us" klaus breathed for a moment standing up straight now, staring the doctor down. "you're gonna do great in prison grant, trust me, i've been there. little piece of chicken like you, oh my god you're gonna get passed around like a.. you're gonna do great, that's all i'm saying" klaus waved his hand, smiling.
five smirked now, proudly standing beside klaus. y/n nervously stood behind five, watching over his shoulder.
"jesus, you're a real sick bastard" lance stared up at him, stunned.
"thank you" klaus spat out a piece of glass.
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"focus, number eight!" reginald shouted once again, frustrated as she failed once again to find her missing brother. she squeezed her eyes closed tighter, trying to ignore his insults.
it had been almost 6 years since five had disappeared and around 1 since ben died. she had spent that year working on finding her brother only to be unsuccessful. it was like he had dropped off the face of the earth, she didn't know how her father expected her to find him.
she needed to focus. her eyes glazed over again as she opened them, turning black for the sixth time that hour. her hands glowed a soft white colour in her lap as her powers worked. she couldn't hear her father anymore.
she opened her eyes slowly to see destruction. where was she? she notices a store behind her, flames still burning endlessly upon rubble. carefully she walked into what was left of the department store. there sat a mannequin in a white top with black dots, only the top half of the mannequin was still undamaged, she had a single arm and no hair but what was left of her body was fine. suddenly someone walked through y/n. she stared at the boy for a moment, recognising him as her missing brother.
"five..?"
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klaus sat atop the bench while five sat across from lance who searched through the files. y/n stood in between the two, arms crossed and guarded as she watched everything over klaus' shoulder. her face still slightly hurt, hand print clearly visible.
lance nervously flicked through the file five was looking for before pausing as he read it.
"huh.. that's strange"
"what?" five snapped impatiently,
"uh the eye, it hasn't been purchased by a client yet" lance looked up at him now,
klaus jumped off the bench, stepping behind lance. "what? what do you mean?"
"well, our logs say that the eye with that serial number.." klaus stepped over to his other side and leaned over his left shoulder. "this can't be right, it hasn't even been manufactured yet. where did you get that eye?"
lance, klaus and y/n all looked to five. where did he get that eye?
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he was a little older than she remembered but he was definitely the same boy that ran away all those years ago. he didn't answer her voice, not hearing her at all. she frowned, watching as he dug through what was left of the store. he was searching for something useful.
while he dug through scraps she went back to the beautiful mannequin. she was surprised at how it had managed to stay okay through all of this destruction around them. she reached a hand out to touch her before she heard five's voice. had he seen her?
"five" she smiled, turning to him only for him to walk right through her again. she frowned, why couldn't he see her? she tried to grab his arm but her hand only phased through. she was like a ghost.. where was she? where was five? "five, can you hear me?" she stood in front of him, trying everything to get his attention.
"five? five!" why couldn't she help him? she just wanted to help. she felt so useless, watching him walk around and gather materials. she couldn't speak to him, he couldn't hear her..
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"well, this is not good" five breathed out in annoyance as they exited the building.
"i was pretty good though right? 'yeah, what about my consent, bitch?'" klaus grinned, giddy as they stepped out. y/n sighed at her brother, trailing behind.
"klaus, it doesn't matter" five snapped, stopping on the last step to glare at him. klaus stopped just after, turning to face him.
"what? what? what? what's the big deal with this eye anyway?" klaus carelessly threw his hand in the air, not at all bothered.
"there's someone out there who's going to lose an eye in the next seven days. they're going to bring about the end of life on this earth as we know it" five spoke seriously, stressed.
y/n's eyes narrowed. that's where he had been..
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she felt herself being pulled away, like someone was tugging her. she fought, wanting to stay, she needed to help him. she needed to tell five he could get back, she could help him, she would.
she continued to call for him even though she knew it was useless. she wasn't able to help him no matter how hard she tried. she was like a ghost. five finally stopped rummaging, now noticing the mannequin behind her.
"how did you.." he spoke softly, he even sounded the same. god, she missed him. she almost broke down again as he walked through her, picking up the mannequin softly. just as y/n faded she reached her hand out, trying to touch him. her hand instead gripped the mannequin. she shouted in pain as she felt like she was being torn apart. she squeezed her eyes shut hoping the pain would stop.
when her eyes opened again she found herself in that same room with her father scowling down at her. he watched her for a moment, for once allowing her to calm down. she slowed her breathing, wiping away the tears on her cheeks, bitterly.
"report, number eight?" reginald asked, impatiently glaring.
"i.." she paused, she couldn't tell him. she would find five on her own if she had to but she couldn't tell him, she wouldn't. she was a failure. she couldn't tell him she couldn't do it, the punishment would be too great. "i didn't find him.."
reginald clicked his tongue in disappointment. "you are dismissed until further notice. training will not resume"
"what? but what about five-"
"number five is gone and you can do nothing to help him if you keep failing, number eight. you are too weak. you are dismissed" he snapped, narrowing his eyes, daring her to talk back again.
she stayed silent.
————————————————–
klaus paused before ignoring five's ominous tone, "yeah, can i get that twenty bucks like now or what?"
"your twenty bucks?" five stared at him in disbelief.
"yeah, my twenty bucks"
"the apocalypse is coming and all you can think about it getting high?" five got up in klaus' face, annoyed. how could he not care that the world was ending?
"hey, um.. five?" y/n tried to diffuse the situation before anything could happen. she didn't need another family fight.
"well, i'm also quite hungry" "tummys-a-rumbling, grr" klaus grinned, patting his stomach and imitating gurgling sounds.
"you're useless.." the boy clad in uniform mumbled, incredulous. "you're all useless!" he begun to walk away to the stairs of the building.
"five? hey, come on. i'm sure we can do something else to stop the-" y/n smiled softly, walking behind him, holding his blazer sleeve. klaus interrupted her.
"oh, come on, you need to lighten up, old man" he stayed where he was, exasperated. "klaus!" y/n scolded, sitting beside five only to be ignored. "hey, you know i've just now realised why you're so uptight! you must be horny as hell. all those years by yourself, that's gotta screw with your head, being alone" he acted sympathetic as he sat on five's other side. y/n rolled her eyes, he was definitely just doing this for his money.
"well, i wasn't alone" five stared off while he fiddled with his fingers.
"oh? pray tell" klaus turned, interested.
five looked up now, reminiscent. "her name was dolores, we together for over 30 years"
"30 years? oh wow, god, the longest i've been with someone was.. i don't know.. three weeks?" five's eyebrows furrowed, bored. he looked around for an escape. "and that's only because i was so tired of looking for a place to sleep-" he noticed a cab driving by and took y/n's hand before blinking into the cab. "he did make the most fantastic ossobuco though, it was.. five? y/n?"
the pair appeared the back of the cab, scaring the driver. "don't stop. just keep going" five instructed before leaning out the window and saluting condescendingly at klaus.
"hey, hey, hey, hey! what about my money?!" he shook his hand, angrily yelling at them.
————————————————–
"y/n, dear" grace smiled at her, standing in the doorway to the library. her siblings stood around their mother, all ready for bed. she was going to tuck them in. "it's bed time, come now, let's get you ready"
y/n stared at her books for a moment before ultimately sighing and following along. she brought two with her though. diego walked beside her, as grumpy as usual and only there because he was a mommy's boy. his eyebrows furrowed in confusion however at the books in her hands.
"why do you need books on physics and probability?" y/n looked up at him, surprised he was talking to her. usually her siblings ignored her now that she wasn't part of their missions. she stared at him for a moment, deciding whether to tell him or not. with a glance at the cameras in the room she decided against it.
"none of your business" she muttered quietly, curling her arms around the books, holding them to her chest. it gave diego a look at the equations written on her arm though. what was she up to?
he dropped it nonetheless. he didn't care too much if he was being honest, what she did was her business.. for now.
she was going to find him. she had to. with her books splayed out around her she made sure to stay to the quiet corner of the library, the one no camera in this house reached. loose sheets and notebooks filled with equations sat messily in front of her, decorating her wide array of books. if she could only tell five she could help him. he was surely smart enough to figure this out on his own but how long would it take him? she wanted him to come back sooner not later.
"come on, you can do this" she clenched her hands into fists, glowing white as she focused. her eyes turned black and she looked around. she couldn't move, she was stuck. she noticed five walking around but her body wouldn't do what she wanted it to. he walked over now however, did he finally see her? he smiled, taking a seat beside her. she noticed a book in his hand but she couldn't read what it was. he scribbled in it, focused. the only she noticed was that she was sat in red wagon, unmoving and unblinking. what was wrong with her?
five wrote down a few more numbers, showing her what he had written so far. it was similar to what sat beside her earlier. "i've almost got the equations dolores"
what..? her name wasn't dolores?
she gasped as she was shaken back to reality. looking up she found a concerned looking klaus with diego a few feet behind him.
"oh god" klaus sighed in relief as her eyes turned back to normal. "i thought you died or something"
"idiot, if she was dead her powers wouldn't have been working" diego scoffed although he too looked quite relieved she was okay.
"what were you doing?" klaus sat beside her now, staring at the numerous equations in front of him.
"what are you doing? shouldn't you be training or something?" she frowned, annoyed at having been caught and interrupted.
"we asked you first" diego countered, crossing his arms.
"i was practicing, nothing you should be concerned about" she waved it off, packing up her books and notes.
"it looks like a lot more than practicing, eight" he moved closer, stepping on the sheet she was about to pick up. he leaned over her, watching her carefully. she eyed him back, just as daring.
"you don't know what it looks like, two" she stated calmly, still holding the sheet.
"c'mon, y/n, just tell us what you're doing" klaus whined, "what are we gonna do? tell dad? we're not luther"
y/n snorted, remembering the jokes they used to make about luther sniffing dad's underwear. "fine, i was looking for five, dad stopped my training" diego stepped back now, confused.
"why would he stop your training?"
y/n paused, looking guilty. she glanced nervously between the two of them before waving them down towards her, whispering. "you can't tell anyone.. i lied to dad, i did find five"
"you're kidding" both boys stared at her in disbelief.
"why would you l-lie? w-w-w-what are you going to do if h-h-he finds o-out?!" diego freaked out now, his stutter coming out in his nervousness.
"he's not going to find out. he doesn't care about me now, i'm practically useless to him now" she shrugged, continuing to stack her papers again. "besides i can't move or talk to five whenever i find him, i just.. exist. i'm like a ghost or something. i still need to figure out how to communicate with him" she sighed heavily. first, she wanted to figure out what book he was reading. she had never seen it before.
————————————————–
"what are we doing?" y/n and five stood outside the department store.
"i thought i said no questions until later" he raised an eyebrow at her. "we're just here to get something" she shrugged and he held her arm before blinking them inside. they walked around for a moment, using five's flashlight.
"oh my god! five look!" y/n gushed, noticing postcards on a stand. "they have so many cities!" he stared at her for a second, confused by her fascination before remembering she had never really left the house. she gasped suddenly, turning around and holding up a fluffy bunny keychain. "it's so cute!"
a small fond smile grew on five's face as she took interest in the small, almost useless items that the store had to offer. with a sad look she turned to him, still holding the white bunny keychain. "five.. can i keep it?"
he paused, he was about to take dolores so he didn't see why not. if he said no he would be hypocritical.
"fine. but don't touch anything else, okay? we can't risk getting caught" he nodded before walking away. y/n grinned, hooking the keychain into her belt loop before looking around.
five finally found dolores, looking up at her. "dolores.. it's good to see you"
"i've missed you, obviously.. well, it's been a rough couple of days" y/n couldn't see who he was talking to but heard his voice. she frowned, he had gone through a lot.
suddenly five yelled, "no!" and then there were gunshots. y/n dropped to the floor, praying five was alright. she ducked behind a gardening stand. five appeared beside her and she almost screamed. he held a finger to his lips, shushing her. she nodded, watching as he grabbed a spade, testing it's swing before disappearing again.
she watched as he fought one of the two shooters, slicing their arm before running again. she couldn't see him after that, not until he came back over with a bag, pulling her with him. they ducked down one of the aisles and he tried to spatial jump but it didn't work. he was too tired.
"shit.. come on!" he tried again. in a last effort they ran and jumped over a stall, caught as the lights from the guns shone on them like headlights. both five and y/n froze.
"got him" the one with the pink mask spoke before they were distracted by sirens. five used this to their advantage, pulling y/n out and away from the line of fire. they stayed behind a stand, waiting for the masked shooters to leave before they did themselves.
as they sat y/n finally got a good look at dolores, freezing when she realised she knew the mannequin.
"oh my god.."
"what?" five furrowed his eyebrows at her.
"you were in a relationship with.. a mannequin?" she looked up at him in disbelief. the mannequin was not her issue though.
"look, if you have a problem-" he glared, ready to defend himself but she shook her head.
"no, no. i get it.. it's just.. " she trailed off awkwardly.
"what?" he snapped, getting impatient.
"five.. my soul was in that mannequin"
tags: @rxses-and-reverie @lostgreekgod @on-yourmark-99 @bicyhot1
#tua#the umbrella academy x reader#tua x sibling reader#the umbrella academy x sibling reader#five hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#diego hargreeves#allison hargreeves#vanya hargreeves#luther hargreeves#five hargreeves x reader#klaus hargreeves x reader#diego hargreeves x reader#allison hargreeves x reader#vanya hargreeves x reader#luther hargreeves x reader#ben hargreeves x reader#ben hargreeves
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A Good Guy - A Solangelo One-Shot
Summary: Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. But when it came to Nico di Angelo, would he ever be good enough, though?
Word count: 3900 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || Read on AO3
Notes:
1. Based on the song "good guys" by LANY
2. My contribution for @after-everything-pjo-zine project. Check out other fics (each fic is accompanied by great fanart so you just HAVE to check it out) in the zine here.
***
Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. And he would proudly say that it’s because his family raised him to be one. His Mama made sure that he never forgot to say please, sorry and thank you, and his grandma taught him to respect people. Even though Apollo wasn’t around to be an ideal father as Will was growing up in Tennessee, his grandpa showed him how to be a Southern gentleman.
So yeah, he might come across as a young man who with a sassy attitude. But heck, Will knew that he was a good guy. And he’s proud of that.
But here’s the thing. Here’s a thing about being a good guy. Being a good guy might sound like it’s a good thing to do. But being a good guy also sometimes meant that you’re almost as invisible as a wallflower. Because even though you’re good, there were always be better guys. And one thing that Will learned about being a good guy? Good guys never win.
***
“It’s been almost two weeks, you know,” Will said as he kept his eyes at the monthly medical report that he (pretended) to be reading.
“Two weeks since what?” Kayla asked, but didn't bother to pretend that she's actually interested.
“Since Nico went for that quest, remember? Something about Persephone’s parrot or something?” Will said, still trying to keep his eyes at the notes. Because he knew that Kayla might still see the worry in Will’s eyes. (Sometimes it’s almost scary, how his siblings knew him too well).
“Oh? Really? Has it been two weeks yet?”
“Almost,” Will said, decided to leave the detail that it’s actually has been 11 days and since Nico had left the camp early in the morning and now it was almost dinner, it’s been almost twelve freaking days since Nico left the camp for that stupid quest.
“I mean, of course, it might be nothing but well, I thought it was supposed to be a short, simple quest?” Will continued. “Usually if it’s just this small quest, it never took him this long before. Usually it would just be like, three days, five, at the most, and like, a week if he took a detour to impulsively do something unnecessary, but never this long.”
Will lifted his head and turned to look at Kayla, who didn’t seem to share the same worry as Will. Her eyes were still fixed on the glossy pictures of the magazine that she was looking at. A non-committal hum coming from her was the only sign that she was (kind of) listening.
Will tried to focus on the lines of writing in front of him, but the letters were all jumbled and he couldn’t make himself try to read anything. His mind was too busy thinking about different reasons and scenarios of why Nico wasn’t back yet from the quest.
“Do you think I should ask Chiron about it? Probably he’s heard from Nico, y’know. Like, maybe something came up and I don’t know, maybe Chiron knew or maybe even Rachel got a vision or something, or-“
“Or you could have just contacted me, Solace. Pretty sure that it doesn't hurt to try IM me”
Will stood up and spun to face the direction where the voice was coming from. He did it so fast, he got dizzy because of it. It took him two seconds before his eyes could fully focus on Nico di Angelo, who was staring at him. His face looked nonchalant, but his eyes glinted with amusement.
“Uh, hey,” Will greeted, gripping the desk as he suddenly needed to get a hold of himself. “You’re back.”
Nico gave him a single nod, brushing away some strands of hair from covering his eyes. “Yep. I just got back.” He shrugged his shoulders before continuing. “Thought I’d drop by here before I report to Chiron.”
Will tightened his grip on the desk, trying his best to hold himself from closing the distance between him and Nico just to pull Nico into his arms.
“And uh… What brings you here?”
The emotional part of him wished that he was the reason why Nico came straight to the infirmary after the quest. But the rational part of him shushed him. That damned rational part of him told him that hey, it was him who wanted to see Nico, not the other way around.
Nico kept his eyes at Will and there was something in those dark eyes that Will couldn’t really put his fingers on.
“I thought you wanted me to have a check-up every time I got back from a quest?”
Of course.
Will tried to ease the dull pain in his heart by giving Nico a small smile. “Yeah. Of course. Need to make sure that you won’t fade into the shadows again, huh?” Will let out a nervous chuckle. “I mean, I am your doctor, and a doctor only wants the best for his patients.”
This time Nico stayed silent as he nodded. Will gestured to a nearby cot with his chin.
“Now, if you could just sit down over there, please?”
Still saying nothing, Nico strode to the cot and quickly sat there. Will took a deep breath, mentally telling himself to be professional, and let it out in a long exhale. He made his way to where Nico was waiting for him.
The check-up was a regular one. And there was nothing new about how touching Nico made stupid butterflies do some stupid dancing in his stomach. He ached to ask Nico questions about what happened in the quest and why it took so long. He wanted to know whether Nico ever thought of him while he was on the quest the way Will kept on thinking about him while he was away. He wanted to listen to Nico talk to him, with that slight accent that made his voice so melodious, almost like he was singing.
But it would only scare Nico away.
So he kept his eyes at the board where he jotted down the notes about Nico’s vitals.
“So, uhm… This quest was a bit longer than usual, huh?” Will asked, almost proud of himself that his voice sounded normal.
Nico hummed as he put his jacket back on. “Yeah, we had an unexpected encounter with some empousai. Luckily, David is unexpectedly good at fighting.”
At the mention of the name, Will lifted his head up. “David? You mean the new camper? That Athena kid?”
Nico nodded. “Yeah. For someone who never held a sword before, I have to say that I’m impressed.”
A strange, nauseating heat flared inside Will’s stomach. “Really?”
“Yup. In fact, I promised to give him an extra lesson in sword-fighting tomorrow.”
That strange heat swirled even more inside Will. He stretched his lips into a lame attempt to smile at Nico.
“Oh,” Will said. “Nice.”
“In one way, he strangely reminded me of Percy, you know? The way he held his sword.” And Nico continued talking for a while about that stupid new guy. Will listened, humming every now and then just to show Nico that he’s listening.
Half of his mind wished that the harpies would find that David kid to be a nice target for their dinner. The other half of his mind scowled at him for having that kind of evil wish.
“Okay. Everything looks good. Just make sure that you drink enough water,” Will said as he wrote the date and signed his name on the bottom part of the report.
“So I can go now?”
Will nodded. “Yeah, you’re free to go now,” he answered as he walked back to his desk to put the record in the folder.
“And you’re not even offering to walk me back to my Cabin like a good Southern gentleman?”
Will spun on his heel quickly. He stared at Nico with wide eyes, thinking that he might have been hallucinating.
“What?”
Nico snorted and slid down from the cot. “Never mind. I need to report to Chiron first anyway.”
Will blinked, and it took him a full two seconds before he had his voice again.
“Nico-“
But Nico was already one step away from the door. He stopped and looked at Will over his shoulder. The left tip of his lips curled up, just slightly, forming a ghost of a smile. He gave a two-finger salute to Will.
“I’ll see you around, Solace.”
Not waiting for Will to answer him, Nico stepped away. And just like that, he’s out of sight.
Will stared at the open door. There is this hollowness inside his heart that he couldn't explain. Like he just missed a chance.
He always thought that he’s a good guy. Or at least, he’s trying to.
But would he ever be good enough, though?
***
“What are you doing here?”
Lou Ellen’s voice startled Will.
“Me? Uh…” Will scrambled to pick up the book that he just dropped and showed it to Lou, like he was trying to prove something. “I was reading!”
Lou Ellen stared at him with a glint of amusement in her eyes as she gave Will the Look. The ‘don’t-give-me-bullshit’ Look.
“What, am I not allowed to read in peace?” Will said, a bit defensively.
“Hey, it’s cool dude,” Lou said. “In fact, it was nice to see you somewhere else aside from the infirmary,” she added.
Will relaxed a bit, going back to lean his back on the tree.
“I can see why you choose this spot. It’s much quieter than the infirmary on your busy days,” Lou said.
Will hummed. His eyes flickered to the far left, to the clearing a few yards away, just for a split second before he opened his book.
“And the view from here is also… decent.”
Lou Ellen’s tone made Will quickly look up again at the daughter of Hecate. She’s now grinning at him, like she just figured something out.
“How long have you been spying on those two?” Lou asked, gesturing with her chin to two demigods in the clearing who seemed to just finished sparring.
Will gaped at her. He blinked and quickly shook his head. “What? No! I’ve told you, I was reading here!”
But Lou Ellen didn’t seem to care about Will’s reaction as she waved at the demigods in the clearing.
“Hey, Nico! David!”
Will’s eyes widened in horror this time as he turned his head around, only to see that Nico and the new Athena kid walked towards them.
“Lou!” he hissed in annoyance.
Lou Ellen just gave him a teasing smirk. “What?”
Will groaned and quickly stood up, his book abandoned on the grass as he unconsciously ran a hand over his wild locks.
“Hey,” Nico greeted. “What’s up?”
Nothing’s up aside from his heartbeat, Will would like to answer. But of course, he kept it to himself as he tried his best to school his face into a relaxed, nonchalant, I’m-just-chilling-here expression.
“Nothing much,” Lou Ellen shrugged her shoulders. “You two are sparring together here? Why? Is the arena too mainstream for you?”
The new Athena kid gave a half-smile as he brushed off some hair from covering his eyes. “It was my request, actually,” he said. “I just want to have a...” he waved his right in a vague circular motion, like trying to find the exact word to say. “A more… realistic view when fighting a monster?”
That didn’t really make sense to Will. But it seemed to be an acceptable reason for Lou Ellen as she nodded at him.
“And has Nico been a good teacher for you?” Lou Ellen asked.
Will didn’t miss the way Lou gave him a quick glance.
David’s half-smile turned into a full one. “He is!” He turned his head to Nico and smiled at him, like he was pleased at Nico. “Thanks for teaching me, Nico. You are very good at sword-fighting.”
Nico returned David’s smile with one of his small smiles. A smile that could have filled Will’s chest with warm air. But since he’s not at the receiving end of that smile, it turned Will’s chest into lead instead.
“Anytime. It was a pleasure.”
“You will teach me more, yes? And ah… We also need to talk more. About football.”
This was the first time for Will to really listen to David talking, and he couldn’t help but notice how David’s voice had quite an accent. Especially when he pronounced football, the way he stretched some syllables.
Nico’s face lit up. “Yeah! We should! I know that Cecil played football! Right?” His eyes darted from Will to Lou Ellen, like asking for confirmation.
“Cecil? He does. I can take you to talk to him. Come on,” Lou Ellen quickly pulled the sleeve of David’s shirt and led him away from the other two demigods.
Will watched the backs of Lou Ellen and David who were walking away from them. He could feel nervousness starting to creep in on him as their voices slowly faded away, as he realized that he’s now alone with Nico.
Not that he hated to be with Nico. It’s just… this wasn’t his plan. He wasn’t prepared. And Will hated it when things didn’t go as he planned. He hated it when he was unprepared.
“David played football,” Nico said just when David and Lou Ellen disappeared from their sight.
Will angled his neck to look at Nico. “And when you said football, did you mean soccer?”
“I mean football,” Nico answered, turning on his heels a little so now he was facing Will. “The real football.”
Will snorted and slid down to sit on the grass. “They’re the same,” he said, leaning his back on the tree.
Nico followed Will, sitting on the grass. “It will always be football for me,” he said. There was a melancholic tone lacing his voice. And it made Will wonder, maybe it’s something that Nico used to play. In the streets in Venice, when he was just a kid who had no idea that Greek gods and goddesses were real.
“We, David and I, we were talking about playing here. I mean, it would be great, you know? David said he played midfield. I’m usually,” Nico paused, but quickly continued. “I mean, I used to play as a striker. If we can connect well, that would be really cool.”
Will closed his eyes while his stomach churned with a strange, unpleasant feeling. So, not only was this David kid good in sword-fighting, he’s good in soccer too?
“Do you play too? I mean, you can be the goal keeper. I guess you would be great. I mean, you’re tall and it would be a great asset for a goalkeeper.”
Will huffed. Stuck between the goalposts while watching Nico and David scoring goals? Yeah. No, thank you.
“We’ll see about that,” Will said, still with his eyes closed.
For a while, none of them said anything. Will opened his eyes when he heard Nico sighed. He turned his head, watching Nico stand up. Nico brushed his pants, and gave Will a small smile.
“I’ll see you around, Solace.”
Will wondered why that smile looked a bit strained, but returned it anyway. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”
He watched as Nico walked away.
Someone would be a good guy for Nico, he thought. And even though Will was a good guy, maybe he just wasn’t good enough. So of course, someone would be a good guy for Nico. Someone else. Not Will.
***
Will didn’t even know why he was here, standing awkwardly near the table where the food and drinks were.
Oh, yes. Because Cecil and Lou Ellen practically dragged him here, to this stupid Halloween party organized by the Aphrodite Cabin.
It’s not that Will disliked Halloween. And it wasn’t like he hated Halloween parties either. What he didn’t like, was seeing Nico talking with David at the other corner of the room. Just looking at the sight made a strange, nauseating fire flame inside of him.
“Pining over di Angelo again?” Lou Ellen nudged him on his shoulder.
“Yeah. How long are you going to act like this Will? Playing it cool while we all know how you wish you’re the one talking to di Angelo instead of David?” Cecil joined Lou Ellen in interrogating Will.
Will only rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” he mumbled, and took another sip of Coke from his cup. He tried to watch the campers who were dancing in the middle of the floor. Some kids from the Hermes cabin somehow got a hold of speakers. And of course, with a little help from the Hephaestus kids, the party had a cool sound system that was now playing pop music.
Lou Ellen sighed. Will stole another glance at where Nico was standing. David was leaning a little to whisper something at Nico. The proximity between those two made it a little bit harder for Will to breathe. He wondered what it was that David was telling Nico. But then Nico turned his head to Will. And no matter how cliché it might sound, Will’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Will quickly looked down to the floor.
Next to him, Lou Ellen clicked her tongue.
“You know what? I can’t take this anymore. It’s been MONTHS. This has got to end tonight,” she said. Ignoring Will’s protest, she grabbed Will’s wrist and pulled him along with her, walking towards Nico and David.
A few seconds later, Will was standing with a flustered face in front of Nico and David.
“Hey, Nico, David! You guys enjoying the party?”
David gave that half-smile again. “Ah, yes. The party is nice.” He angled his neck just a bit so now he was looking right at Will. The half-smile subtly transformed into a knowing smirk. “And you? You… You are the healer, yes? Will?”
Will forced himself to smile politely at David. “Yeah. That’s me.”
David gave a single nod. “Nico talked a lot about you. A lot of good things.”
Will blinked. His eyes darted to Nico, but the raven-haired boy looked away from him. Still, his cheeks were a dark shade of red.
“Is that Cecil over there? I think I want to talk to him,” David suddenly said as he pointed at Cecil with his chin. “Lou Ellen? Come with me?”
Lou Ellen grinned as she nodded and made a 90-degree turn on her heels. “Yeah, come on, David. Let's leave these two idiots.”
And just like that, they left Will again, standing awkwardly less than two feet away from Nico.
“Uh… I didn’t expect to see you here,” Will said.
Nico turned his head at Will, an eyebrow slightly raised up. “Oh? I thought you were the one saying that I need to work on my social skill.”
Will gave Nico a small smile. “Yeah. So. Good to see you here, then. I mean, for your social skills and all.”
Nico stared at Will. And there was just something behind those dark eyes. Something that Will couldn’t put into words. Something that made him unable to look away.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance, Solace?”
The question got Will off-guard. Of all the questions in the world, it’s probably the most unexpected one.
“Huh?”
Nico held his eyes at Will’s for another second, but then he looked away. “Never mind,” he said, half-mumbling. His cheeks blushed again into dark cherry color.
“But… do you want to, though?”
Nico’s head turned back to Will. “Want to do what?”
“Dance? Do you…want to?”
Nico bit his lower lip and he looked down for a second. When he looked up back at Will, his charcoal eyes were soft.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On who’s asking me to.”
Will’s heart started to jump around in his chest.
“What if it’s me asking you?”
The eyes that were staring back at him were now smiling.
“Then I guess, it depends on the song, then.”
Will’s heart was probably doing some crazy somersaults right now, but his lips curled up without him even thinking about it.
“Well, it’s my favorite song that they’re playing right now. I hope it suits you?” he asked, carefully offering his hand.
Nico’s smile was as soft as the look in his eyes. And the moment their fingertips touched, Will’s heart soared high and suddenly his chest was filled with warm, light air.
As Will led Nico to the floor, he thought about how long he has been wanting to do this, to hold Nico’s hand in his.
They swayed along with the music. Nico’s left hand felt perfect in his right hand. Will’s left hand rested on Nico’s hip and Will couldn’t care less about the other people dancing around them.
“Your dancing is better than your singing,” Nico said, a playful smile on his lips.
Will chuckled. “My grandma said a real Southern gentleman must know how to dance. And I remember my Mama dancing with me when I was a kid.”
“Your Mam raised you well, I have to say.”
Will hummed. “I’m a good mama’s boy, I can promise you that.”
“I can see that, Will. Everyone can see that.”
“See what?”
“That you’re a good guy.”
This time Will held his eyes at Nico. “I try to be,” he said. “But… Would I ever be good enough for you?”
Nico huffed. “And you said I was the dense one.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Nico stopped, but his feet kept on moving. He sighed. “Gods, do I really have to spell it out to you?” He asked, sounding exasperated as he looked away from Will.
Hope bloomed inside of Will and he grinned and oh, how he wanted to shout and laugh. He took his hand off Nico’s hip so he could gently cup Nico’s cheek, guiding him to face him back.
“Do you mean you like me?” Will asked.
“Well, do you like me?”
Will chuckled and he could feel a stupid smile creeping in. “Why do you even have to ask?”
Nico shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Because you’re nice to me but you’re also nice to everyone? Because you don’t seem to care even if I talk about someone else? Because you…” Nico stopped again and shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe because I just…don’t know?”
Will squeezed Nico’s hand just a bit tighter. “I was just… I was just afraid that I’m not good enough for you.”
Nico rolled his eyes. But his lips twitched, like he tried to hold back a smile.
“You’re a good guy, Will. You’re a good guy to everyone. But sometimes I hope that you can be my good guy.”
It’s like a thousand birds were singing inside of Will now as he felt like he was floating in this bubble of happiness.
“Then I’ll be yours, Death Boy.”
Will wrapped his arms around Nico, and pulled him into his embrace.
“I’ll be your good guy, then. I’ll be your everything.”
Nico pulled himself a little away from Will. He looked up at Will and the light in his eyes was like the most beautiful star in a dark night.
“Everything?”
“Everything. Anything you need.”
***
Additional Author's Notes:
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :). Reblogs, replies or any other feedbacks are much appreciated. Also please don't forget to check out the zine!!!
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The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom
AO3 link
One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.
“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch.
“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”
“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death.
“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave.
“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.
Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.
“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air.
“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.
XxX
Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.
“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”
“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.
“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.
“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”
“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.
“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”
“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”
“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”
Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough.
It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die.
“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”
“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”
XxX
Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town.
Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.
“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper.
He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”
“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”
“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light.
The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”
“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.
“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally.
“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.
Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.
XxX
“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”
Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.
“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”
Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.
“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”
XxX
“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”
“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”
“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”
“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”
“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.
“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.
XxX
“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”
“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”
“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”
“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”
XxX
Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock.
But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.
And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.
#danny phantom#my writing#i made a headcanon post and immeaditly said 'i have to write this'#and then I did#tw: suicide mention#there is a non described background death of an OC#opinions are like assholes#everyone has one#and *everyone* has an opinion on how phantom died#some are reasonably close and some are waaaay far off#but they wonder and gossip and argue when the kid cant hear#its human nature
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For them
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader
Warnings: Angst, death, character death, reader death, no happy ending
A/N: I've finally completely read the Harry Potter series despite having watched and loved them my whole life. Fred Weasley has and always will be one of my favorite characters who brings me great comfort. Upon reading his death this is what I came up with immediately, I've had horrible writers' block for about a week so I guess enjoy it despite the fact it is so depressing.
A/N 2.0: It just deleted half of what I wrote so I cant promise that this re-write I'll be posting will be as sad as it would have been but here you go still
She could barely stand, the pain from her abdomen seemingly nothing compared to the pain of her heart now. There was no way, this can't be true. But as she staggered forward slowly on buckling knees she knew it was. Fred, her Freddie laid before her, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
She couldn't hear the calls from the two other gingers close to Fred. Percy was begging, begging her to understand he hadn't meant it, that he hadn't meant to distract Fred, that he would never want his brother to be killed because he had made a mistake. Ron was trying to pull her away as the corridor they were now in was being assaulted by giant spiders.
She no longer knew what was happening, nothing around her mattered except for the man in front of her, the man who laid before her already gone. She stumbled towards him her knees finally giving way as she collapsed to the floor beside the man she loved.
Her trembling hand reached toward her fiance her crimson-covered fingers brushing his cheek as if to rouse him, "w-wake up Freddie," she whimpered as tears burned down her skin. "I-it's... you-you have t-to get... get up now." It had to have been a prank, he had to have just been trying to have a laugh with her.
But deep down, she knew. A woman was screaming, she could not process that it was her own. "Please, please get up Fred- I-I can't... I can't do this on my own. I need you!" But her calls went unanswered, Fred remained lying on the floor unmoving.
Her mind was swimming with thoughts, thoughts of what she would never get, thoughts of her and Fred getting married. Images of Fred holding his own set of twins- their set of twins. Imaged of her working at the shop as their children played behind the counter. Images of just her, Freddie, and two cups of tea for company on the roof of the shop as they watched the sunrise.
But those thoughts and images were being taken from her, rapidly disappearing into the darkness as others swam forth. Her, George, and Lee mourning Fred, thoughts of late nights up sitting in the bathroom and hand clutched to her mouth and the other to her abdomen as she held in the sobs so as to not wake anyone else. And just as her dreams and hopes for a future were becoming drowned in darkness so was her world, the fight, the battle she was still a part of was fading.
She looked down at her abdomen, there was so much blood- too much blood. She wouldn't be able to heal this, no one would be able to heal this in time. She could feel herself growing weaker as she laid beside her fiance in the small nook where a suit of arms had been.
She barely remembers brushing away Percy, Ron, Harry, and Hermione telling them to continue fighting. She barely remembers Harry and Percy bringing Freds' body here to keep it safe.
But as she laid her head down on the familiar chest he could convince herself for a moment she wasn't dying. If she squinted the corridor long since destroyed around her became their bedroom. the crimson-covered stones she laid in where the crimson sheets of their bed, and the explosions of battle- long since muffled to her where the still-beating heartbeat of Fred.
There was a part of her that was happy, a part that was happy she wouldn't have to live a life filled with the agony she had experienced within the few minutes of knowing her fiance was dead. A part of her that was happy she would get to be with Fred in life after death, that they would be together in a world with no pain.
But another part of her was scared, a part of her was frightened and a part of her- the biggest part of her was mourning what she would leave behind.
She was leaving George and Lee alone in their grief, Lee who was one of her best friends, and George who she had spent every holiday with since they were eleven years old. Would they hate her for leaving them too? Would they know how much she missed them even now? Would they forgive her?
All she could do was hope that they would, and hope that she would not see anyone else she loved for a very long time because if she would that would mean they too had died- a thought which she couldn't handle.
As her eyes closed for a final time, her own smile ghosting on her lips she uttered her last words, "I'm coming, Freddie."
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___
Y/n Y/l/n died in the arms of the man she loved, she died what could have appeared a peaceful death in her sleep had it not been for the deep claw marks through her stomach.
George remembered perfectly what he had seen, the image of his best friend and twin brother lying dead yet still embracing each other engraved in his brain. The image that plagued him whenever he tried to cast his patronus charm, the image that would haunt his every nightmare.
But George Weasley continued to live, he continued to love, and most importantly he continued to laugh. Because although half of their group was gone Lee and him refused to let their spirits die. Although yes it hurt, and some days were hard George continued to laugh for his brother- for his other half. George continued to laugh for his best firend- for the girl who had been with him since he was eleven.
George could still remember how he felt the very day he found out. The way the sobs racked his very soul and how he could barely breathe. The feeling of relief when he saw Ron and realized he had only lost one brother, the feeling of anguish that that brother had been George. He remembers holding his mother as she begged for Fred to be joking saying how she would never make him dress up for anything again if he just got up.
But he didn't stir, he didn't pop up with a wide grin and proclaim that they all looked like blubbering babies. There was no bright giggle that emanated from his side as you to popped up and made a witty remark about how it would take more to kill you. No, instead the only sound that was heard was the sound of his own anguished cries.
George and Lee had lost half of their group, when thoughts like that come to George he can't help but think of Remus Lupin. But he wasn't Remus Lupin, he had only lost two of his friends while he had thought he lost three. In this regard, he was thankful that he only lose Fred and y/n, but that wasn't true, was it? Others had died, others like Remus Lupin and his wife Tonks, something he thought of often and that pained him too.
But now as he looked down at the gravestones of his two best friends there was the smallest smile on his lips. Because he knew somewhere out there they were together and they were happy. He knew that somewhere out there those two were swapping stories with the three greatest pranksters at Hogwarts. And, he knew that someday he would get to join them but not for a very long time because he had to continue on, he had to live... for them.
#Fred Weasley#Fred Weasley x reader#Fred Weasley x reader angst#Fred x reader#Fred x reader angst#Fred#Fred Weasley Harry potter#harry potter#Harry potter fanfiction#Harry potter angst#angst fanfiction#Fred harry potter#Fred weasley x y/n#fred x y/n#fred x you#fred weasley x you#angst#I'm sad
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Too late | Dazai x reader |
Too late | Mafia Dazai / dazai x fem!reader |
( A very shitty attempt at a song-fic. )
Warnings- toxic relationship (minor mentions of abuse?), death
A brunette sat on the cement. The tan folds of his coat fluttering out behind him. The wind brushed his hair from his face, it stung his eyes and brushed his skin with bitter cold air. His fingers dripped the brightest shade of crimson. His eyes had dilated and shook with shock and fear. The skin his hands desperately held, already losing its warmth. Lips stained the color, as well as the outfit that resembled his own. Those blood-stained lips coughed final words before letting go. How, how had this happened? Why had he never predicted this? Why would you ever do this?
He knew those answers like he knew his own crimes. After all, how could he forget? He’d been the reason you fell, he’d only denied it for years.
The sun fell softly along the stone. A boy, no older than 15, walked along the stone edge of a bridge. His brown locks flying within the wind whilst he adjusted the bandage over his left eye. He paid no mind to you, even as you walked behind him. Your feet carried you on the safer ground, next to the edge. It was common to find the two of them like this. You were always with him, whenever you could be at least. He never seemed to notice you were there; You didn’t mind it though. The rare moments where he did suddenly ask you questions were enough. Rushing to close the distance between you and him, you caught a glance of his eyes darted to the side. He was looking at you, the single eye that showed seemed puzzled, before he parted his lips to talk to you; His arms opened at the same time. Skipping around steps, he smiled, “Hey, why are you still following me, woman? Don’t you have a better hobby than stalking me?” so he did notice you at times.
Flustered you froze before chuckling with a light hum. “No, not really Dazai-san. I think you're interesting! You're the only one I can't read.” you were referring to your ability. It wasn’t much, so you weren't too high up in the ranks. You could read thoughts, see their feelings in the form of aura, and manipulate that aura. So far, you could make people freeze up and lose themself in an overdose of emotions. Also known as individual illusions created by their auras; things only they could see. It was hard to believe you were even in the mafia. Your bubbly appearance and lack of interest in killing made you look harmless. You never killed, but when you worked with another they sure had an opening to kill.
Dazai leaned down so he leveled with you. “I wonder, have you ever thought of using that ability to induce such outrageous depression, one acts on it?” blushing you took several steps back shaking your head.
“N-no, sir! I d-don’t think I could do that. Well, if Dazai-san really wanted me to, I-I could try it for him!” What were you saying? Knowing this demon prodigy, you’d probably end up not meeting the expectation and ending up punished. Though, would that be so bad?
He puffed his cheeks out, jumping from the edge to land in front of you. With a half-smile, he flicked your forehead. “You keep doing the opposite of what I predict. I really can’t get a read on you.” turning away you covered your face.
“I-is that a compliment?” you mumbled, looking through your fingers. He shrugged, jumping back to the ledge. His eyes lost their glimmer as he looked down. He seemed to be judging the distance; With a heavy sigh, he looked back to the sky.
“If only this was a little higher. I think falling into the water and dying right away, without the pain of falling to the ground, would be okay. I’d drown unconscious, how peaceful that would be.” you didn’t respond as he turned and began walking again.
~
Year after year you walked by his side, growing with him. Slowly that bubbly gaze began to fade ever so slightly. The fun-filled times like the day on the bridge no longer existed.
My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost
Standing next to the demon prodigy you stretched out your hand with a sigh. “Ability: vortex of emotions.” from the shadows you worked alongside him. The enemy's hands reached their head. A perching scream echoing as they turned their gun to themselves. Looking to the side your eyes met the brunettes; They were colder than they were a year ago. Sighing, he raised his pistol and shot. He pushed past you, and you followed numbly.
I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home
Entering the box he called his home, his hands grabbed your waist pulling you towards him. His fingers lifting your chin. The flutter of your heart pounded against your chest, the closer his face came to yours. “You really should stop following me everywhere. If you won’t at least try to kill.”
Cross your heart and hope to die. Promise me you'll never leave my side
Nodding as he released you, he sat at his desk. “Mori won’t be happy that we clocked out so early.” he leaned back groaning. “Found a new suicide method? I don’t want to deal with his annoying voice tomorrow!” his older persona slipped through. The light in his eyes spread before it disappeared with your silence. Yet despite that, there was a caring hint to his posture. The way his hands moved softly, how he traced your bow. How he exhaled with a sigh when you closed the door
Show me what I can't see when the spark in your eyes is gone
~
Another year went by with a soft ease. You stood in Mori's office, a blank expression on your face. You were sure you were dead. Messing up like this, letting somebody get away. You were shaking, unsure why your breaths still rang. The doors opened to the brunette mafioso. Dressed in all black, a short ginger walked at his side. The way your emotions suddenly changed was unnoticed by everybody but Dazai. His eyes set in glares as you looked away. Your heart raced, why was it you still felt like this? He treated you as a pawn, yet you still ached to kiss him. Mori blamed your failure on Dazai’s lack of discipline with you. “I’ve been more than lenient with how she follows you around. If this happens again, it will be you who pays the price Dazai.'' Why did this have to happen in front of the ginger? His eyes looked at you with sympathy. It was weird to see such a thing. Dazai rolled his eyes stepping closer to the ginger as his eyes darted to you. Puffing your cheeks out you looked away.
Once you were in his office, he practically pulled you by the ear. Pushing you to the floor with his frustration. “I don’t understand why I keep you around! All you seem to do is put me in situations that bore me to death!”
You've got me on my knees I'm your one man cult
You looked up with begging eyes. “Please, I’m sorry Dazai-san! Please forgive me! I’ll do better! Please don’t leave me.” he was the first person to ever make you feel real emotions. Fear, excitement, lust, love, heartache, despair. He gave it all to you.
Cross my heart and hope to die Promise you I'll never leave your side
It was an unexpected look, an unexpected plea. His eyes showed excitement. “There, there’s the reason! You can’t stop doing the opposite of my expectations, every time I think you’ll do something, you manage to shock me, even in this kind of situation! I wonder, would you commit suicide if I died? It would be so unexpected!” his voice was full of wonder as he lifted your chin using the front of his foot.
Looking at him he smirked. He'd known, all along, about your feelings. He teased you all the time, but maybe he could finally get an expected reaction from you. It would be possible to toy with you. Maybe then he’d be satisfied with you. “Would you ever be only mine? Something only for my eyes?” with wide eyes you nodded.
Cause I'm telling you you're all I need I promise you you're all I see
With a smile, you brought your hands to press against your chest. With a desperate smile, your eyes filled with that childish light from when you were 15. “Even if I'm only being used for your satisfaction, it would be all I need! You're the only one for me." Once more he was shocked by the response. Nearly losing the balance he had, his hand reached to his face a soft snicker leaving his lips.
“You’re utterly helpless.” he hummed, removing his foot from under your chin. “Come here darling~” he was certainly stressed today. A little fun wouldn’t hurt, right? “Tell me you’ll never leave.” he hummed holding your chin within his fingers. The blush on your cheeks darkening in your complexion.
'Cause I'm telling you you're all I need I'll never leave
His lips met yours. Shivering you closed your eyes, letting a tear fall. You wished he truly loved you back.
~
Another year passed, you stayed by him no matter what he did. He was crueler than ever. He often left you at night to go hang out in a bar. Those nights were lonely but a ginger often peeped in to see you. “You look like hell.” he would always tell you how messed up you looked. “Why do you stay by him?”
The images passed by your head. The boy you fell in love with. The young 15-year-old. The one with a smile that would show itself here and there. The young boy who jokes around, the carefree one. You picture the feeling of his fingers over yours. Cold yet so warm in those years.
So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand
“I love him.” you hummed watching the male drop a bottle of wine in your lap. He walked out leaving the gift. He knew you understood how cruel he was. He had never really pitied anybody before but you… you were something he pitied. A demon prodigy's toy, your relationship was nothing more than toxic.
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames
Sipping on the wine you drank yourself drunk. “I love him… he loves me. I love him. He loves me, I know he does. I’ve seen some softness in those harsh eyes.” you wiped the tears looking up to the ceiling. What had you gotten yourself into? Why did your heart have to play you like this?
I will follow you, I will follow you
~
He stood looking so conflicted, broken, and unsure. It wasn’t the first time you saw him without the bandages but it was the first time your dull lifeless eyes saw him this vulnerable. “Figures, you do follow me everywhere.” his voice was blank of anything; You could no longer read his voice.
Come sink into me and let me breathe you in
It was true, you needed him, so of course you followed him everywhere. “Go, we’re done! I’m not going back! This is all Mori's fault! He’d be alive if it weren't for inviting that damn organization here!” he was upset, yet he seemed so confused. Like a child, he had no grip on what he was feeling. Was he angry, grieving, sad? He couldn’t tell.
You ran to him wrapping arms around him. “I will go with you! I will follow you!”
I'll be your gravity, you be my oxygen.
You'd hold him down during this pain. You’d help him achieve whatever it was that he needed. “Even if it is death, I will not leave.”
So dig two graves 'cause when you die I swear I'll be leaving by your side
With a soft sigh, he pushed you away. “That changes nothing, follow if you have to but I never loved you.” you backed away smiling you curtsied.
“I know Dazai, I know you never did and never could. You are a demon prodigy, one that can’t understand his own feelings. I wish I could help, but your gift cancels mine out.” your voice was sweet as honey, but he shed you no more glances as he walked away. Following him, you sighed.
~
Two years later your empty eyes sat at an agency desk, you'd bought an outfit to match his. Those feelings refused to leave you even after all this time. They surged more than ever. He was like his 15-year-old self again, different but at least there was life in his eyes. He laughed and flirted just as he did those years ago.
So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand
You looked to the cafe waitress’s hand, then your own. How you wished to be her. You stood up, walking out and to the office of the agency, sitting in your chair, Kyouka walked up to you. She once had your eyes. Dull, lifeless, broken, but then Atsushi seemed to save her. “Do you love him?” she asked tilting her head as you looked from your phone to her, you sighed.
“Yes, but I'll suffer for life over this. I had my chance and now it’s gone.”
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell
She set down a small piece of paper. “I found this.'' She tried to give you a smile that wasn’t pity. They often asked why you always looked so disturbed. Maybe it was the fact you were really all alone now?
And you can throw me to the flames
A tear dropped from your eye. Something, a feeling you hadn’t had in so long. It was worth it, these empty dull years. “A tossed away letter to apologize.” you held it to your chest.
~
I will follow you so you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand
You found yourself alone on a mission. This was assigned to both you and Dazai, but he had other things he wanted to be doing. Neither of you knew how dangerous this was. He had not batted an eye at this mission. It was simple, a simple recovery mission. A ransom kidnapping, simple in and out. You could handle it without being seen. You ached for the warmth of his hand. A little light lifted your eyes as you stepped into the building.
When his fingers opened his phone accepting the call, he nearly fell over dead. The mission you were attending wasn’t a retrieval; It was a set-up. Despite how careful he'd been, somebody had found out about you. More so his past with you. His mind was too focused on you to think of who let it slip.
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames
Dazai pushed past the doors too late. This was his fault, all of this. The loss of your true self.
I will follow you, I will follow you I will follow you, I will follow you
You'd always said you would follow him. It was always like that. He had taken years to figure out why he never ignored or let you go. He was selfish, he had grown attached. Ango and Oda had even offered the thought. The thought that, maybe in this heart; swallowed by black, he loved you.
It was his turn to feel desperate as he dropped down. The blood flowing from your stomach in spurts.
So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand
He held your hand in his while also trying to keep the bleeding down. “I’ll get help! Just hang on, we just need Yosano!” it was the first time your heart slowed like this; The first time you could read him like a book.
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames
Your hand was growing cold, your breathing staggered. You looked to be in so much pain. “No, I won't be that long. You should leave, you don’t love me so…” your voice trailed off as your head tilted to look at his cheeks. Tears… there were tears.
He shook his head pressing your hand to his forehead. “I will follow you.”
Your eyes widened as a light chuckle left your lips, “I will follow you.” you hummed, as the crimson left your lips. He was forced to watch you die in his arms. There was one final look on your face. A giant smile, a real smile on your lips. “I love you Osa…” then, you were gone.
Another, another friend in his arms, dead. No, you are more than a friend. “I… I love you.” he’d never said those words, and it didn’t matter now. There was no going back. He held you to him, cold and motionless.
Somebody from the mafia had done this. Somebody would probably be Mori… he’d dropped this low before, it wouldn’t shock him if he were trying to drive Dazai to murder again; To get him kicked from the light.
For you, for the wish left by Oda, he wouldn’t let himself fall that low. He’d be strong.
#bsd#bsd x reader#bsd song-fic#really shiity attempt at a song fic#bsd dazai#dazai x reader#dazai x reader angst#dazai angst#reader x dazai angst#dazai x you#bungo stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader song-fic#first attempt at a song-fic#this kinda sucks
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Oct 2: Returning Home
By Meridies (meridies on ao3)
CW: (Non-Explicit) sexual content, referenced death, drowning, suicide mention (breif), alcohol mention
Sarah and I sat down for drinks on the second day of fall. The tavern was quiet, but the darkness was loud. I was drinking a beer, a man’s drink. Sarah had fruit juice in front of her. She had asked for something with no alcohol.
“I’m trying to be sober,” she explained. “I spent four weeks in rehab this summer, you know.”
I felt bad, then, for asking her out for drinks, but we hadn’t seen each other in months. I set my beer down and asked her how she was doing.
“Better. I think getting clean was good for me— I’m working at the library downtown now. And I’m seeing someone.”
“Who?”
A syrupy smile. “Charlie. You remember Charlie Davenport?”
I couldn’t remember a thing about Charlie Davenport, but Sarah was enthralled, so I asked, “Is he nice?”
“I think he wants to sleep with me,” she said. “We went swimming down by Craig’s Point last week, and he…”
But I stopped listening. Craig’s Point was the lake by the quarry. Someone had drowned there last year, and it was the town’s biggest scandal for a week until Elsie Bates was caught slipping out of William Hogg’s house in a little lacy thing during the dead of night. But the kid— Frank— was still dead, long after the town had forgotten about him.
I interrupted her. “I thought the lake was still closed off?”
“He pressured me into skinny dipping.” Sarah hadn’t heard me. “I thought I was going to sleep with him, but I’ll see him next week, so maybe…”
I remembered watching the boats haul hooks through the water until they dragged up Frank’s body. He was bloated and stiff. I wanted to feel what his skin felt like after it had absorbed all that water, but I never got close. No one touched him except for the paramedics, who told us all to back away.
Sarah waved a hand in front of my face. “Hello? Anyone home?”
“Someone died in that lake,” I said, “You shouldn’t have gone swimming there.”
She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t really give a damn.”
Well, I did. “It’s disrespectful to his memory.”
Frank had been in my algebra class in sophomore year, a burly guy with shoulders like logs and eyes set into his face like whorls of wood. The night after his death was announced, I had stared at my ceiling in darkness and thought about how much water he must have drunk before he died. He must have been drunk on it.
“They say he killed himself,” Sarah said nonchalantly.
The thought made me nauseous. “Maybe he fell.”
“Rough way to go.” She sipped at the dregs of her drink. “See, this is the problem with staying in one place— you’re so obsessed with history. You need to learn how to let things go.”
I wondered why Sarah refused to admit to the power of the water. She had to know it, better than anyone.
Sarah grew tired of my moping and hauled me up by the arm, muttering something about history under her breath. “Exposure therapy,” she said, “We’re going swimming.”
I could hear the lapping of the lake before I saw it through the sparse trees, black as ink. The horizon stretched and faded into night mist. Sarah stripped her shoes, her jacket from her skin, and looked back at me.
“Valerie,” she said, voice a knife’s edge, “You’re not really scared, are you?”
I pulled my sweater off, unhooked my bra, and slid down my pants. Sarah was half naked, gooseflesh rising. I could see the paleness of her chest beneath the distorted water.
“Giardia,” I blurted. “Legionnaires Disease.”
“Conspiracy theories,” she teased. “Come under with me.”
I kept my mouth closed underwater. I could feel the water sliding fingers up my legs, to my thighs, to the quiet spaces inside me that had a breath of their own. Sarah struck out from the shore. She was grinning, hair damp. I took a deep breath and plunged beside her.
-
Two nights later I found myself with Eli, an acquaintance from many years ago who had just returned from the Peace Corps in Ukraine. We had no reason to see each other except for sex, which we had in his bed, his kitchen counter, and then on the creased sofa in front of the television. He looked up at me and said baby, you’re so good, you’re so good for me, and I thought, all men are the same.
I finished washing up in the bathroom. We drank beers together in silence while watching a sordid American drama, and then it was time to leave. No, thank you, I will drive myself home. Yes, I’m fine. I’ll see you later, I will, I promise.
I could feel the places Eli had touched me, his hands and fingers moving inside of my body. Something deep and lonely inside me ached as I drove, and without realizing, I found myself taking the left turn when the right led home— taking me to the waterside. The thing that breathed and pulsed had no voice, so I spoke for it.
“Is anyone there?”
The quarry remained silent.
“Give me a sign,” I said. “I’ll return if you do.”
Sarah told me I was obsessed with history, that I needed to learn how to let things go. But I felt my body responding to the water the same way it had responded with Eli. I thought that Frank was the first and last good man I had ever slept with, and I owed him something I could never give.
After his body was found, his parents had moved out of town. But I heard them speak about the incident only once. He was a sweet boy. Bring him home. Bring him home to us. Their house now stood empty at the corner of Fletcher Avenue and Second Street.
That night I thought about Frank, the blue of his lips. I tasted the quarry water in my teeth, felt Eli’s palms in between my legs. Baby, you’re so good. So good for me.
-
Frank died three summers ago; that was the summer I first had sex with a woman, her tongue underneath mine, in the bathhouse of the community pool. I slept around after Charlotte left for college. I tasted more tongues, more women, and naturally, I tasted more men.
“A girl is supposed to sleep around,” Sarah reassured me, after the first pregnancy scare. “Stick with women if you’re so concerned.”
Before looking at the result of the pregnancy test, I stared at myself in the mirror and thought about what I would name the unborn thing in my stomach. It would have been the size of a cherry at that point, and I was embarrassed to admit that I did not know who would have fathered it. But the test was negative, and I felt a sick, swooping sense of relief.
Autumn swelled and ripened into full bloom after I slept with Eli, and cold weather encroached upon the edges of town. The first rainfall happened. I cracked my windows open to breathe the sweet, thick air into my lungs. Water slipped inside my home with slim fingers, running in rivulets down my walls. When the storm ended, I saw the marks it left behind, white against dark dust.
And I dreamed about him, the night after the rainfall vanished.
He was rising, dripping, from the lake. Leathery and stiff and slick with black slime, more viscous than oil. Gills opened and closed at his neck. They were at the spot where I had wanted to be kissed once, before any man or woman had touched me. Frank stood, staring at me with filmy eyes. I stared back in silence.
He wanted something, I realized. This was the sign I had asked for a week ago. What he wanted was for me to return.
-
I did not tell Sarah about the afternoons I spent at the lakeside of Craig’s Point during the long month of October. Besides, she and Charlie Davenport were together more often than not. I heard about her comings and goings from other people. Eli asked to see me again; I did not answer.
I thought about Frank the more I was at the lake. We had never been particularly close; he knew my name, and I knew he was good at algebra. But he had gotten to know my body in a way no one else had— intimately, viscerally. It was the week before his body was found. He had grabbed my arm as school let out and said one word: please.
I was young, but I understood what he was asking for. I was only slightly ashamed to say that I had no qualms. He was inexperienced, and so was I, both messy and complicated. But he was a good man.
I still thought about that please from time to time. What he was really asking for, and what I had failed to give. Please, please, please.
As the sun was setting that evening, I heard a squeaking in the woods. It was high-pitched, and I followed the sound to its source. I nearly stepped right on it. Someone had skinned a squirrel alive and pinned it to the ground. The thing was still writhing. I stared half in awe, half in disgust at the twitching, red-white sinew which never should have seen sunlight.
It would have been kind to kill it, but all I could do was stare in sick misery and slowly back away. When I was by the lakeshore, I could not hear its sounds anymore. All I could hear was the water.
“Did you do that?” I asked out loud. No one responded, but I imagined that I heard Frank’s voice. Please.
“There are better ways to get my attention.” The water slithered towards me, mouth open and hungry. “I keep returning, like I said I would.”
I imagined him then beneath the surface of the water, eyelids slitted and covered with a thin film. He might have blinked at me; he might have reached a hand out to touch my skin. He might have wrapped a hand around my ankle, tugged until I followed him into the depths.
The sky was smeared with orange. When I went back to my car, the squirrel had gone silent.
-
Sarah wanted to have drinks with me again another night. This time she had ordered something with alcohol, peach schnapps and fruit juice. She didn’t seem concerned by the slip-up.
“Charlie and I had sex,” she proclaimed, “I’ve been meaning to tell you for ages. Where have you been?”
“Thinking,” I answered.
She reached out. “Where have you been for the last week? I went to your house but you weren’t there. It isn’t smart to leave all your windows open, you know.”
“I’ve been at the lake.” Before her expression had the chance to shift, I blurted, “Sarah, do you believe in ghosts?”
Her hand tightened around the glass. She set it down slowly, tenderly. “No,” she said, but it was a reflexive response. “I thought I saw one once, but I’ve never seen anything else like it, and I know I’ll never see him again.”
“Tell me.”
“I saw him the night I went to the hospital,” she began. “I was half dead, dying on the floor. But I opened my eyes to see a man standing over me. His skin was blacker than ink, and his eyes were white spots inside his head. I knew at once that he was death, and he was going to take me with him. He put his hand right here, right on my shoulder, and the other hand at my waist. He touched me— everywhere. And we danced, while I was dying.” Sarah turned and faced me. “I woke up in the hospital and asked about him, but no one had ever seen someone like that, and the doctor said that I must have hallucinated. But it was real. Realer than anything I’ll ever know.”
Then she laughed, high and bitter. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me. No one ever does.”
And at once, I wanted to ask her about who she really was, beneath it all. Beneath Charlie Davenport’s touch and his pick-up truck and the layers of skin she put on each day. Beneath the alcoholic drinks and the man who had danced with her while she drank herself to death and that cold, frightened look in her eyes. I wanted to peel back her skin, to see the ugly, squirming parts of her that curled away from sunlight.
“I believe you,” I said. Something in my voice must have made her believe me, too.
She rolled her glass around beneath the yellow tavern lights. “I wonder if I’ll see him the next time I’m close to death.”
“Sarah,” I said uneasily, “You should stop drinking.”
“I will,” she said, “I know I’ve got to. It’s the poison, you see. I’ve got to bleed the poison out.”
“Sarah, you’re not making any sense.”
“You and history,” she said dizzily, “You and your fear. You’ll be stuck with it forever unless you suck the venom out. I’ve got to bleed the poison from my veins. And you need to cut the rotten flesh out to heal the rest.”
-
Frank was waiting for me at the quarry. I was stumbling, half drunk. Sarah’s words echoed in my head. She had said it only once, yet it was burned into me.
“You’re here,” I said, “I knew you would be.”
He blinked at me. I pulled my jacket off, my shirt, every inch of clothing. It was cold, intimate. He watched me from the water. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, in my gut. It rang through me like a distant call.
“I’m here,” I said, “I’m here.”
His skin was slippery and bloated beneath my fingers, stiff to the touch, like I had imagined it would be. His fingers were webbed and translucent. When I drew my hand back, the same plasticky, taut skin was between my fingers as well.
I knew what Frank needed, what his body needed. I thought about touching my lips to the gills that pressed open and shut on the side of his neck. He needed something only I could give to him, and it was something that had been given to me many times over, slick and drenched in warmth. That writhing, slimy thing that resides in the tender part of a soul. Frank needed someone to come home to him. I would create that home.
“I’m dead,” I said. I knew it was the way to offer myself to him. “I’m rotting inside. Just like you.”
Frank’s face floated beneath me, drained and still. I stood and did not move as the swollen, slippery skin crawled up my legs, covered my thighs, and breached my body until we were both those awful dark things that crawl in the depths, serpents, reptiles, together.
Please, I thought. I could feel my own pulse ringing through the stone. The quarry breathed for me. It spoke with his voice. Cut the rotten flesh from my skin. Let me come home to you. Please.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Meridies is a 19 year old writer from California currently studying creative writing. They enjoy knitted sweaters, pumpkin carving, and swimming in potentially haunted lakes. They are very excited to be part of Snake’s Halloween Fest!
#halloween#spooky season#spooky#ghost story#horror story#horror fiction#haunted#paranormal#original writing#spilled ink#writing on tumblr#original fiction#writblr#short story#writerblr#Hognose Snake Halloweenfest 2021
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Codeine Scene (Five H. x Reader) [3]
Codeine Scene Masterlist
Authors Note: First off, I am SO sorry. New Years is always a slow time for me, and I did not mean to take this long to publish. Second of all, this chapter is a transition chapter into a much more fucked up story. I’m warning you now that the rest of this fic will get really really dark. I don’t recommend reading after this chapter if you can’t handle depictions of r*pe, murder, heavy drug use (cocaine, etc,) and other disturbing topics . I’m basing this story off of personal experiences, and in no way do I want someone who isn’t ready to read something like this to read this. This is like the last safe chapter, please do not read after this if you can’t handle the topics mentioned above
Summary: Klaus moves Reader up to Ben’s old room early in the morning. Afterwards, they eat breakfast and decide to trip on acid together. Five learns more about her than he expected to today
Warnings: Drug use (LSD[acid],) mentions of suicide, mentions of sex
Word Count: 3777
Taglist: @alexander-hamilhoe @dumdumsun
The gentle shaking of (Y/n)’s shoulder pulled her from her sleep. Klaus stood over her, harshly whispering her name. Looking towards his window, she could see the sky was just barely starting to light up, it was still early.
“Klaus it’s like 7:30!” She quickly grabbed the sheet that was covering her from the waist down and yanked it over her head. A small groan left Klaus’s mouth and he yanked it back off of her. “It’s Sunday!” She tried convincing him to let her sleep in, but it was no use.
“I talked to Ben and he said you could stay in his room!” Klaus wrestled with (Y/n) over the blanket, knowing she was still tired. Ever the impatient man he was, Klaus spoke again, “We gotta get you settled in right now!”
“Fine! Fine. I’m up.” (Y/n) sat up and shoved her matted hair out of her face. “Why right now?” Klaus looked at her like the answer was obvious. It wasn’t, of course.
“Because trauma can be associated with places! Coming in here right after what happened yesterday could be an issue.” He grabbed a hair brush off of his dresser and pushed her to sit on the bed. Climbing behind her, he started to brush her hair. “Even if you aren’t reminded of it in here, it’s always good to be able to have some privacy.” He made valid points.
“I guess you're right.” Klaus was extraordinarily gentle with her hair, pulling out all of the mats and even putting in the effort to put it in a low ponytail to keep it out of her face. “Thank you.” (Y/n) turned and smiled at Klaus, pulling him into a quick, tight, hug.
Ben's room was up the green stairway, across from Five’s room. (Y/n)’s face scrunched a little when she realized Five would be right across the hallway, but she didn’t complain. Her arms were a little tired from carrying her suitcase and heavier back pack up the stairs so early in the morning, but it would fade rather quickly.
Klaus opened the door and stepped aside, letting (Y/n) rush to the bed with her heavy luggage. “Dad replaced everything in this room a week after Ben died.” Klaus sat on the bed next to her luggage, and she plopped next to him. “He said old reminders would only set us back, so he made this one of many guest rooms.” Klaus peered in the closet, knowing that Ben’s academy uniforms were no longer hanging pristinely on the rack.
“He didn’t die in here, did he?” (Y/n) turned to look at Klaus, feeling heavy sympathy.
“Oh no! A mission went wrong, and I suppose we all messed up, but the monster inside his chest started tearing him apart.” Klaus’s usual, very happy energy, was replaced by a solemn, cold one. “He died in the infirmary.” Klaus looked down at the bedsheets. They weren’t the one that Ben had used. “I still talk to him every day, but it still makes me a little sad.” Klaus sniffled and rubbed his eyes.
(Y/n) pulled Klaus into a bone crushing hug, knowing he needed the comfort. “That’s terrible.” She was a very empathetic person, relying more on feeling than thinking, so she was struggling to hold back her own tears. “Are you sure he’s ok with this?”
“Yeah! He said something about moving on, and finally attempting to find peace.” Klaus clapped his hands once as he stood. “He’s kind of started meditating too, which is kind of weird, because he’s a ghost and all.” He stood and glanced around the room, getting a good look at it before (Y/n) would make it her own. “Let’s go get some breakfast after we unpack, huh?”
“That sounds nice.” (Y/n) stood and hugged Klaus again, silently letting him know that she was there for him.
The walk all the way down to the basement kitchen was unexpectedly exhausting. Six flights of stairs later, two flights between every floor, they were sitting at the table, staring at Five scrape his eggs off the skillet and onto his toast.
“I’m not making eggs for you two.” His voice was monotone and annoyed. He wasn’t a morning person. “Take some responsibility and make them yourself.” Five grabbed his food and coffee, and looked at both of them before giving his usual tight-lipped smirk and blipping away, presumably to his room.
Klaus released a few small giggles he was holding in and hopped off the island. “He always seems to add a little spice to life.”
As he was making his way over to the fridge to grab some eggs, (Y/n) asked; “Is he like this every morning?” Not wasting a second after her question, Klaus replied.
“Yep!” He pulled out four eggs and set them in a clean bowl on the counter. “Without a doubt. It’s worse on weekdays too, because the classes he teaches are all early in the morning. Now do you want scrambled, fried, or boiled?”
“Scrambled, please.” As Klaus got to work on making breakfast for the two of them, she thought about what Five might teach. “Hey Klaus?”
“Yeah?” Klaus was stirring the already scrambled eggs in the skillet.
“What does Five teach? I mean it makes sense that he’s a teacher, but I just can’t think of what he’d be so willing to teach for a living.” Klaus looked back at (Y/n) before down at the eggs again. Her chin was resting in her hands, and she stared over at him, waiting for his answer.
“I think some sort of ethics class, like there’s different types of ethics, but that’s all I really know. He doesn’t really talk about work, and it’s a bit weird considering he was an assassin.” Klaus split the scrambled eggs in two separate bowls with forks in them and gave one to (Y/n).
“He killed people?” (Y/n) dug into the eggs, shoving them in her mouth, listening for Klaus.
“We’ve all dabbled with a little murder before, it’s not really that big of a deal for us, but he swore never to kill for someone else again, I’m pretty sure.” Klaus fillet out a little moan of joy as he started filling his own stomach with the eggs.
“That must be why he was so unphased about what happened yesterday, that makes me feel a lot better.” She concluded, trying not to remember the way she nearly beat the life out of the man in Five’s car as she shoved more of Klaus’s eggs in her mouth. “These are really good!”
“Danke!” Klaus thanked her in German, with a mouth full of eggs. He swallowed them and continued speaking. “That actually reminds me- you’ve done acid right?” (Y/n) thought on the question for a moment before answering.
“No actually, but I did do shrooms a lot with my friends before I dropped out.” Her fork scraped the bowl, trying to get the last of the eggs.
“Good! You have experience.” Klaus poured the last of his eggs in his mouth, straight from the bowl, before swallowing. “Would you like to do acid with me? You don’t have to, but I feel like this would definitely raise your spirits.” Klaus leaned toward her, waiting for her answer.
“I’d love to actually.” (Y/n) swallowed the last of her eggs, and stacked her bowl with Klaus’s, before taking them to the sink to wash them. Klaus stood and followed her, digging in the breast pocket of his half-unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and pulling out a small square of folded tin foil.
“Great! Now stick your tongue out.” Klaus unfolded the foil and pulled a tiny white square of paper, roughly the size of a phone keyboard key, out from the six-ish others in it. (Y/n) stuck her tongue out as she rinsed the now-clean bowls and Klaus placed the piece of paper on it, before sticking one on his own tongue.
(Y/n) stuck her tongue back in her mouth and sucked a bit on the paper. “So do I swallow it, or…?” The tab didn’t make it any harder to talk, thank god.
“If you want to, but you absorb it faster when it’s in your mouth.” Klaus picked up the bowls and started drying them. “It’s not bitter at all is it?” Klaus asked, checking to make sure she didn’t take a laced tab.
(Y/n) focused on the tab again, not really noticing any taste. “Not that I can notice.” Klaus smiled as he shut the cabinet where he placed the bowls.
“That means we’re all good! You can swallow it when the paper feels soggy enough, though, you’ve probably absorbed most of it by now.” Klaus led her back upstairs to his room, practically dragging her by her wrist. “Things are gonna get really funny for a little bit before you actually start tripping.” Klaus shut the door behind them and plopped on his bed.
“Doesn’t it take like an hour to kick in?” This wasn’t her first rodeo, so she knew her way around at least a bit.
“Yeah yeah, it’s kinda like shrooms? But the visuals and the trip are just a bit different, you’ll see what I mean.” Klaus grabbed a joint he had rolled earlier and lit up, taking a few puffs before passing it to (Y/n). “Just settle in for like half an hour and then get up to see how you feel.”
•••
Tripping on LSD was a profound experience. (Y/n) wasn’t able to go outside, as it was raining cold, so she stayed inside, wandering around the house. She and Klaus made some really cool art, and Klaus held it over the vents to dry while she was walking around the house.
Tripping felt like seeing the universe fully for the first time, and she could somewhat understand Klaus’s view of the world. Many times throughout the last three hours, she thought she saw Five blipping away out of the corner of her eye. She had dismissed it every time, of course.
Now the trip was peaking, and the visuals were insane. The air around (Y/n) felt like breathable, transparent, clay, and it was a little overwhelming with all the visuals, so she opened the door in front of her and quietly sat next to it, letting out a long, happy sigh. Closing her eyes, she paid attention to the gorgeous visuals she could see behind her eyelids.
(Y/n) didn’t even notice Five sitting on his bed, staring at her from over his book. She was too focused on the movement behind her eyelids, and the euphoric feeling surrounding her, so when Five spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“I think you have the wrong room.” The sound of Five closing his book reached her ears.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I- I wasn’t paying attention I’ll leave.” (Y/n) stumbled over her words as she tried to stand, clearly embarrassed.
“No, no, it’s fine actually.” Five spoke, rather out of character. “A little company once in a while feels nice, and I see no harm when you’re being quiet.” His face was beyond distorted, but she could still recognize his permanent scowl.
“Really?” (Y/n) settled back down, more relaxed and at ease.
“Yeah, I don’t really care.” Five grabbed his book again, opening it back to where he was. “Just don’t be too annoying.”
“I won’t don’t worry.” Five grunted quietly at her response. A smile painted itself on her face, and she slid all the way down the wall, with her head now on the floor with the rest of her.
•••
And she was quiet. Five watched for like an hour and a half as her eyes slowly focused on something new in his room every few moments. She was quite taken by the math equations across his wall, and he found it rather cute. He started to find her less annoying, now understanding that she coped the way his brother did.
He was alone once again in his room now, no longer accompanied by (Y/n). In fact, she was accompanied by one of her “friends.” She barely even knew the guy.
Five could hear everything. Every moan. Every word spoken with the intent of being quiet, but wasn’t held under the gentle guise of a whisper. It infuriated him.
Of course, he understood that she didn’t grow up in a particularly healthy home, given that she was in a homeless shelter at almost 18, so she didn’t understand healthy coping habits. It genuinely hurt his heart, if just a little bit, that he could watch another hurt soul walk down the same path as his brother.
Klaus had gotten help for his addictions, and was off addictive drugs completely, but even Five understood that not everyone will be able to get the help they need. He wouldn’t say he had any feelings for her, but he still felt sympathy.
Knowing that it was how she coped made hearing all of it a little easier, but he still wasn’t able to handle it after hearing it for fifteen minutes, so he jumped down to the kitchen, brewed himself some herbal tea, added a little vodka, and read his book, criss cross, on the table in the center of the room, attempting to ignore what was happening right across from his room.
•••
Bailey had just left, and (Y/n) was exhausted. He was kind of an ass, and he treated her like shit in middle school, but he was a horny teen, and it was really easy to just invite him over.
The trip was fading out now. She was no longer peaking, and the visuals were far less intense. (Y/n), after standing at the stairs, staring at them for a couple minutes, deemed it safe to be able to walk down them. She knew it was normally safe to go down the steps while tripping, but something in her head told her to wait, so she did.
These particular steps were a little steep, as well, so she made her way down slowly, leading herself to the kitchen in the basement. Her bare feet padded quietly on the floor as she walked to the stove, turning the heating element under the tea kettle on. The bags under her eyes felt so beyond heavy, and she knew she’d be sleeping deeply tonight.
“You done up there?” Five’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. (Y/n) turned and leaned on the counter to face him.
“Yeah, yeah, he left like ten minutes ago. I’m just really tired and want some tea to relax I guess.” Her arms were crossed, comfortably holding each other up.
Five hummed in response. “Well I see we both thought of the same thing.” He lifted his mug of tea, peppermint maybe, and put it to his lips.
“I thought you only drank coffee.” (Y/n) chuckled a little feeling the heat of the stove begin to reach her back.
“Well it wouldn’t be very logical to drink caffeine so late in the day, especially when I have to teach an early class tomorrow.” Five flipped the page of his book, continuing to read while talking to her.
“Makes sense.” Her words were drowned out by the high whistling of the tea kettle, letting her know she could pour it into the cup. Grabbing the tin of loose leaf tea, she hummed as she scooped it into the reusable tea bag that was next to it.
(Y/n) dropped the tea bag in the cup, following up with the boiling water. She turned, bringing her and her cup to the table, now sitting next to Five. Five was a grumpy, annoying, old, man who has to grow up all over again, but his company was enjoyable, it contrasted hers in such a way that it comforted her. It made her feel like her ADHD was less severe, like her inability to focus was matched by someone who could do nothing but focus.
Only a day had gone by since they met, and she was already comforted by him.
Five shut his book and looked over at her. The more he got to know her, the more subtly enjoyable he found her. Her sitting not two feet from him didn’t bother him as much as it usually would. He was kind of ok with that.
“You drink peppermint?” (Y/n)’s voice was scratchy and hoarse. She really did need the tea.
“Yeah, it’s the least fruity from what I’ve tried.” He took another sip. “Simple classic.” He set it down and looked over at her, engaging in an unexpected conversation.
“I tend to prefer fruitier teas, I’ve noticed.” She looked down at the cup that she’d been drinking out of for a couple minutes now. “They go down easier and really comfort me. Reminds me of my mom, she only ever made fruity teas.” She took another sip, letting the warmth fill her up.
“What happened to your mom?” Five looked back down at his drink, then back up at the girl next to him. “I noticed that you didn’t exactly live with her when we picked up your stuff.”
“Yeah..” (Y/n) hesitated a little. He was awfully blunt. “I was like seven when it happened, but I’m told it was a double suicide, between her and dad.” Her legs were swinging a little nervously. “Mom sent me up to my room one night and told me not to come out until she opened the door, no matter what. The next day a detective came into my room and carried me out screaming. They were both dead on the floor. I lived with my aunt and uncle after that.”
“Oh shit.” Five didn’t expect her answer to be this upsetting.
“Yeah. My uncle told me it was a double suicide, my aunt said the same thing, she manipulated me and made me think they did it because of me.” (Y/n) sighed into her drink, her distorted reflection staring back at her. “I don’t even remember what the scene looked like, just a lot of blood. I don’t look at anything about it either, don’t really want to relive it.”
“That’s really tough, wow.” Five chuckled uncomfortably and finished his drink. “I didn’t know my mother, but my mom was a robot. She was pretty much indestructible, but she was fully shut off when our house was being attacked a long time ago.”
“Oh my.” (Y/n)’s voice was soft, hoarse, and tired. Her hand gently moved to rest atop his, not really knowing how else to reassure him, if he even needed it, of course. “I’m sorry about that.”
Five didn’t even seem to notice his hand being covered. “No it’s fine, I got over it long long ago.” His words were just slightly slurred, and his eyes had reddened slightly.
“Well I’m here if you ever need like, a hug or something.” (Y/n) laughed. “I don’t really know how else to comfort anyone.”
“It shouldn’t be your job to comfort anyone, that’s not your responsibility.” Five chuckled and smiled slightly. (Y/n) hadn’t expected him to smile, and it wasn’t as weird as she thought it would be.
Before she could even mention it though, Klaus’s happy, booming voice echoed in the kitchen as he practically skipped to the fridge. As she yanked her hand away from Five, she noticed the way he pulled his arm away as well. Maybe he did notice?
Klaus and Five started talking about something as he got off the table and placed his cup in the sink, but she wasn’t paying attention. Before her attention was quickly pulled to the floor, she thought on the way Five had wrenched his arm away.
As anxiety inducing as it was, the LSD that was still in her system made it easy to quickly move onto the next thought. Before she knew it, a flash of blue wrenched her out of her head and she looked up at Klaus, now alone with her in the kitchen.
“Hey, sweetie.” Klaus kissed her cheek and led her gently off the table and to the stairs. “Your trip going good?” He popped a black olive in his mouth.
“Yeah it’s going fine, I really like it. It’s kinda different from shrooms, but not like a bad different.” She was just two steps behind him, trying to keep the same pace as him.
“That’s great.” Klaus hummed as he popped another olive in his mouth. “These are absolutely amazing. I figured you would like it, it’s really calming and stuff for me. Makes the sad feeling kinda disappear for weeks after.”
“Oh same, I’ve just felt creative and warm all day.” They stopped in front of Klaus’s room, Klaus still eating his olives. “I’m actually exhausted too, the trip felt really nice.”
“Well I’m glad I could have helped.” Klaus pulled her into a tight hug, humming loudly. Hugs felt great on psychedelics, she had noticed.
“You helped so much.” (Y/n)’s voice was slightly muffled by Klaus’s chest. She pulled out of Klaus’s chest, speaking again. “I’m gonna go to bed now, if that’s ok, I’m so so tired.” She laughed a little.
“That’s fine, I’m gonna crash the moment I hit my bed, so..” Klaus smiled down at her, thankful for this mini-him.
“Night night, Klaus.” (Y/n) and Klaus both separated to head to their rooms, both about to sleep deeply enough to miss a train going through the house.
The stairs up to her new room were an almost pastel green color, covered by what looked to be years of grime and nicotine stains. It added character, she thought. The checkerboard floor at the top of the stairs seemed to lead her straight to her new room, which she was really thankful for, she was exhausted.
Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, twisting the old carved crystal just enough to open it. She closed it the same way, with just enough effort for it to work, she could have sworn she saw something blue flash near her, but she doubted herself immediately. Once she plopped on the bed, her fingers dragged her phone across the sheets towards her.
It took (Y/n) two full minutes to open her phone, not remembering her password and then not being able to type the right letters slowed her down significantly. It wouldn’t matter though, because once she turned on some quiet music, she was fast asleep.
#The Umbrella Academy#the umbrella academy reader insert#Number 5#five hargreeves#five hargreeves imagine#five hargreeves fanfic#five hargreeves x reader#number five x you#number five x reader#number five imagine#five hargreeves x you#number 5 x reader#number 5 x you#Luther Hargreeves#diego hargreeves#Allison Hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#vanya hargreeves#ben hargreeves#tua#tua netflix#tua x reader#tua x you#the umbrella academy x reader#the umbrella academy x you#the umbrella academy oneshots#the umbrella academy imagines#the umbrella academy fanfiction#five x reader#five x you
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At Peace
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Summary: Emily is finally at peace.
Warnings: Major character death, suicide.
AO3:
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The journey from Paris into the Alps was a long one but Emily enjoyed it. She traveled down in an old, slightly rusted car which she had brought for next to nothing. She had left the apartment back in Paris immaculate, as if she’d never been there and had only taken with her the most important things she’d brought to France in a rucksack. Her whole life had shrunk down to the contents of that bag and nothing else.
The drive was peaceful, serene, the French countryside passing by her like photos on a postcard. It always took her breath away whenever she was here, especially as she drew closer to the mountains and it wasn’t something Emily would ever take for granted. Certainly not this time. She passed fields, little towns and forests and as she started to climb through the mountains, it was valleys and ravines with snaking rivers and snow capped peaks.
She reached the small, hillside town she had grown up to love so much and drove through it slowly, watching how nothing had seemed to change from when she was a child. The fountain where she had thrown money in and wished as hard as she could was still there. The small ice cream shop where she’d always get an extra scoop was there as well. She knew this place. She loved this place. There had rarely been any unhappy memories here.
But she didn’t stop. Instead she continued to drive up the mountain until she got to a lay-by at the side of the road. Emily stopped the car and got out, grabbing her rucksack but leaving the keys in the car. She wouldn’t need them again. Walking across the road she got to the barrier which separated herself from the edge of the mountain and looked down before. It was a long way down but the view was breathtaking. Reaching for her phone in her pocket Emily took it out and inspected it.
This was her last piece of communication with the outside world.
She threw it over the edge of the cliff as far as she could and watched it fly before plummeting to the ground.
Emily stood there and watched before turning her back to the cliff's edge and walking up the side of the road, away from the car. She walked alone, not meeting anyone else except a few passing cars. Twenty minutes of walking by the side of the road and she found the hiking trail she had been looking for. It was steep and quiet, though the path had been well walked on by hikers traversing up the mountain. She knew it well; recognised passing trees and oddly shaped rocks which she had always insisted housed fairies when she’d been a child.
She heard the familiar light laughter around her at the memory, echoing through the forest and it made her smile to herself.
The trail continued to the right after half an hour, but that was not where Emily was going. Instead she started left, through the thicket and much denser trees and shrubs. Although the path had not been traveled on for two decades and had overgrown to become almost invisible, Emily walked it as if she hadn’t missed a day. She never stopped to take a break, simply kept going until she met the first of crumbled stone steps and looked up above her.
There, perched on the side of the mountain was her grandparents' cabin. Nature had reclaimed what was hers a long time ago. Emily hadn’t been here since before her grandfather had died, even though she had inherited the place from them. She had never been ready to venture back to the only place she had felt loved as a child. The loss of her grandparents had been too much to bear.
But she felt ready now.
As she fought her way through the foliage, she was surprised that it had never been broken into. Though there would be very few people now who knew it was there. She saw the remains of the well by the side of the cabin, the broken glass of windows where roots and branches had taken over. She managed to get the door open, squeezing in through the small space it allowed her to. Light barely penetrated the windows now, and Emily took out her flashlight, turning it on and scanning it over the space.
It was exactly how she remembered it. Nothing had been changed or moved after her grandfather had died. She hadn’t wanted that. She had wanted to preserve it as the time capsule it was. The couches which were threadbare and patch-worked over, the old fireplace and dust-filed cabinets. The kitchen with the crockery still in place, the table with four chairs and a yellowed tablecloth. Pictures on the walls; paintings her grandmother had done over the years, mixed in which faded photos of her younger self.
Everything was exactly the same and Emily felt, for the first time, tears well up in her eyes.
The floorboards creaked underneath her as she walked further into the cabin. The small hallway connected to the living room and kitchen housed the bathroom with its outdated set, the master bedroom where her grandparents had slept, and her room. Letting the door creak open, Emily heard the scuffle of mice across the floor as she entered the room. It was still decorated as an enchanted forest, something that hadn’t changed even as she’d grown into a teenager. This window gave the room a little more light, and through the slivers she could see the handcrafted desk her grandfather had made for her. Beside that was the bookcase still full of old, musty and moulded books. The chest of drawers stood against the wall, followed by a small bedside table and finally, her bed.
The wood was a dark mahogany, just like the rest of the room was. The bedposts had flowers hand carved out of them, and her name was in cursive across her headboard. Emily walked to sit down on the bed, ignoring the puffs of dust that rose from being disturbed. She let her fingers trail over the letters of her name slowly, as if by doing so she would remember who she was.
Putting the torch down for a moment and taking the rucksack off her back, she reached over to open the bedside cabinet door and pulled out a photo album, resting it on her knees. Picking up the torch once more, she opened the album and started to slowly flick through the photos. They were the only photos Emily owned of herself as a child. Her mother had never bothered to take or keep any. It was only her grandparents who had decided it was imperative to capture her happiest moments and to keep them forever. They had been the only people to love her for a very long time.
These photos along with this cabin held all of Emily’s happiest memories. It held her grandfather's laughter and her grandmother's singing. It held the love they had given her above anyone else, and it was the only place she could think about being able to finally rest in.
It had been seven months since Doyle had driven a stake through her abdomen and snuffed her life out like it was nothing. It had been seven months since she’d been told she was dead, that there was a possibility she’d never see her family again. Seven months since Emily’s life had been over, despite being still alive. But was she really alive? Or was she simply a shell, existing only in the shadows and the back of people’s minds.
A ghost people thought they saw out of the corner of their eyes sometimes, but when they looked back, there was nothing there.
It had been seven months of living in limbo and never once feeling as if she was a real person. Emily was tired. She was so tired of this. Of existing in between the living and the dead. She was tired of being alone; of the nightmares and flashbacks and panic attacks. Her bones ached and mind throbbed from the constant exhaustion of existing. She was just tired.
Putting the photo album back in place, Emily undid the rucksack and took out what she needed. First, she put on Spencer’s cardigan - one he had given her after Colorado and had never given back to him. If she tried hard enough she could still faintly smell his calming scent, but the cardigan made her feel safe and warm and protected. Then came the photo of the team, all of them smiling at the camera. Emily traced their faces with her finger, a faint smile appearing on her lips. They were her family. They had taken her in and loved her and Emily only hoped she’d been good enough for all of them.
Getting up from the bed, she went over to the bookshelf, choosing one of the French titles her grandmother had given her and went to sit back down. Putting the rucksack on the floor, she got out the bottle of alcohol and sleeping pills and placed them on the bedside table before she got comfortable, back resting against the headboard.
Unscrewing the bottle top, she took a swig or two and made a face as the taste almost numbed her throat. Reaching for the sleeping pills, Emily took a handful out of the bottle and stared at them for a few moments. She wasn’t scared or nervous. She wasn’t second guessing her decision. She had chosen this a while ago, perhaps even before she’d died. Tipping her head back slightly, Emily dropped the pills into her mouth, took the alcohol and washed them down with it.
With the bottle back on the side, she picked up the book and with the light of the torch, began to read the faded words.
Emily let it take its time, topping up on both the alcohol as it slowly began to take effect. In the quiet of her bedroom, she felt almost tranquil as her eyelids started to get heavier and sleep began to take over. Once she could no longer read the words on the page, she put the book down on the side and laid down against the covers of the bed. Emily wrapped Spencer’s cardigan around herself more, one hand holding the photo of the team so she could look at them, the other around the heart shaped necklace JJ had given her.
There was hardly any guilt in her heart at her decision. Penelope, Spencer, Derek, Rossi...they all thought she was already dead. They had grieved for her and so they would not have to grieve again. They had already let her go in the wind. Let her rest. JJ and Hotch? Well, she was sure they would move on as well. Emily hoped they would be comforted by the thought that she had simply decided to leave her old life behind and start anew somewhere else. They didn’t need to know the path she had chosen to go down. It wasn’t as if anyone would find her here, and if by chance they used their brains and somehow did find their way to the cabin it would be far too late. Emily would be long gone.
Emily loved each of them more than she could ever describe. She loved them, but she knew she had never been good enough for them. They deserved to move on with their lives, to be happy and accept the fact that she wasn’t coming back. They had deserved someone better.
Closing her eyes one last time, Emily was content they had found peace in living.
And Emily? Well, she was content she had found peace in death.
Across the ocean, Hotch made the call for Emily to come home. But it simply rang and rang until the line went dead.
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Coming Out: Nico di Angelo Oneshot
Summary: Nico summons Bianca to talk to her, and ends up spilling a lot more than he intended to.
Characters: Nico and Bianca di Angelo, Hades
Slightly angsty
(I apologize in advance if I get any Italian wrong, or put the words in the wrong place. I only used two words, but Google Translate was used for both of them.)
There also might be some italics missing, since I copy pasted from Google Docs, so apologies and if you think an italic is needed, reply to the post or smthn and I’ll add it.
Without further ado, here it is!
12-year-old Nico sat on his bed, head in his hands. The Labyrinth was gone, and the battle was over, gone and over like all the praise he received.
For once, Nico had been a part of the camp; he’d sat around the campfire, eaten and laughed, having fun.
But all it took was a week for the excitement to die down, and the other campers became wary of him.
He was only 12, for Gods’ sake! Why were they so scared? Sure, he was a son of Hades, but Percy was a son of Poseidon (and older than himself, Nico might add), yet they all gushed over him.
This annoyed Nico to no end, so eventually, he found his way to his father’s palace, back to his old room. The one Hades had offered him after he ran away from Camp Half-Blood.
The room was hardly touched. Nico had only spent a few days here before running off, trying to find a way to bring his sister back.
Of course he’d been convinced to let her rest at peace. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to talk to her.
“Bianca,” he greeted softly, reaching out to touch her before drawing his hand back, reminding himself he couldn’t.
“Nico,” Bianca smiled, brushing ghostly lips over his forehead. “Mio fratello.”
Nico closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, trying to imagine that Bianca was really here with him, in a physical body instead of a ghostly one.
Sighing, he sat back down on the bed. Bianca was here, able to talk to him at least. He couldn’t resurrect her, so speaking to her was the next best option.
His mind subconsciously piece things together and he had a horrible thought. Panic shot through him as he jumped up and tried to grab Bianca by her shoulders, hands falling right through her image.
Gritting his teeth, Nico crammed his hands into his pockets and instead fixed Bianca with the most serious gaze he could muster.
“Are you going to reincarnate?” Though they were hidden from sight, deep in his jean pockets, Nico’s hands were clenched tightly into fists, knuckles white. In his head, he said a prayer to the Gods who screwed up his life so badly, hoping with all his might that his sister would say no.
“Oh Nico,” Bianca began, looking at him regretfully, eyes filled with sadness.
That was all the answer he needed. Trying to control his panic and the tears threatening to form, Nico clenched his hands even tighter. Nails cut into skin, and the son of Hades could feel blood seeping out from underneath his fingers. Even worse than that was the fact that even Nico himself could feel the absolute fear radiating off him.
If Bianca reincarnated, then he would fully, truly, lose her. She was his only family, and Nico felt tears pricking his eyes at the thought of being completely alone.
“Don’t.” It was all he said, biting his lip to try and keep the tears from escaping.
Bianca stared at him in surprise, and Nico realized what he just said probably sounded like to his sister.
Reminding himself that no matter what he wanted, it was his sister’s (regretfully ended, now ghost) life, and he couldn’t guilt her into staying in Elysium forever, just so he could be happy.
“Don’t answer my question,” Nico whispered, voice cracking.
It was what he meant, when he said ‘Don’t’ but certainly not what he wanted. “Don’t tell me, Bianca. Not now, and not before you go.”
Breathing sharply, his nails were now digging even deeper into the wounds they had inflicted. The pain was the tipping point for the tears that had been gathering in his eyes, and he began to cry, biting his tongue in a fruitless attempt to hold them back.
Gasping as he unclenched his fists, Nico drew his hands out of his pockets. There were four cuts on his right palm, each around the size of a fingernail. Identical wounds were on his left hand, and Nico bit his lip, watching as blood slowly seeped out, crimson red against his pale skin.
“Nico!” Bianca frowned, biting her lip in concern as she reached out for his injuries before realizing she couldn’t help.
That gesture hurt even more than his palms, and Nico clenched his teeth to keep his silent tears at that volume.
Trying to still his desperately shaking hands, Nico pulled open the nightstand drawer. Inside were squares of ambrosia and bottles of nectar that Hades had put for him, and Nico silently thanked his father.
Pouring the golden liquid over his hands, Nico could feel cuts slowly closing, and the physical pain was soon gone with the injuries.
Emotional hurt was harder to fix, and usually couldn’t be resolved with Gods’ food. That didn’t mean Nico wouldn’t try though, so he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took careful sips of the golden liquid.
Pulling some ambrosia out as well, he slowly ate it, restricting himself so he didn’t accidentally burn up from consuming too much of the Gods’ food.
By the time Nico was done, the yellow square was gone, as was about half the bottle of nectar. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked back at his sister, who had patiently waited while her brother silently sobbed while taking swigs of nectar and bites of ambrosia.
She was sitting on the bed next to him, handout of pure spite and anger, he cursed that Bianca was able to touch the bed but not him.
Using the (now) healed palm of his hand to brush away stray tears, Nico cleared his throat.
“Bianca, since um, you’re not, uh, not,” his voice cracked and he stumbled over his words, but Nico forged on. “Since you’re not going to be here much longer, I figured I might as well make the most out of this time.”
Before Bianca could say something to comfort him, Nico blurted it out. “I’m gay.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his sister’s face, and she reached out as if to touch his face, cup it with her hands like she used to.
“It’s okay, mio fratello.” She moved closer to him, and Nico could swear he felt her breath by his ear. “I am too,” Bianca breathed.
Nico managed to somehow choke on nothing, beginning to gasp and wheeze as he clawed at his throat. Vigorously coughing, he stared at his sister in shock as he pounded his chest, trying to get air in.
Bianca nearly burst out in raucous laughter, but with a lot of struggling, she managed to keep it to a few quiet giggles.
When he was finally able to speak, Nico simply choked out, “You are?” before blushing so hard he looked like he was still choking.
“Yes, Nico, I am.” Binaca smiled, though looked slightly concerned at his reddening face and so pointed to the bottle of nectar on the drawer.
Nico took a sip of the drink, letting the cool liquid run down his tortured throat, which hurt like hell from his (concerningly long) coughing fit.
Bianca snarkily pointed to the closet while her brother drank, smirking. “Do you want to try this the proper way?” she asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.
Nico rolled his eyes but complied, chuckling as he slipped into the closet. He stayed there for a good minute before bursting out, wearing a colourful pride shirt with many accessories.
“I’m gay, Gods dammit!” he screeched, looking like a rainbow in the cemetery, with his messy black hair and pale skin.
Bianca burst out laughing at the thought, proudly watching her brother as ghostly tears (Ghosts can cry. Who knew?) threatened to trickle down her cheeks.
“I’m not going to ask where you got those things,” she smiled, pretending to brush an unruly curl from his forehead. The two of them ignored the fact that the hair stayed right where it was when her hand passed straight through it.
“Nico, go show Hades. Tell him.” Nico’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open like a fish’s. Bianca smiled again, her brother’s facial features hilarious. “Nico, I’m serious though. Come on, before your courage wanes.”
“Why should I tell him?” Nico asked, scoffing as he turned away. The two had been chatting for a few minutes about all the troubles of being gay when Bianca ruined the mood by demanding he tell their father.
“Nico.” His sister’s voice forced him to look at her, straight into translucent eyes. “I’m not your only family. When I’m gone, you still have Hades.” She chose not to add the part about how Camp Half-Blood could be his family too, if he let them get closer. One step at a time.
“Hades,” Nico snarled, putting as much venom as he could in the name, “killed our mother. Hades put us in this situation.”
He knew that neither of those were true, but said them anyway; truthfully, he was just scared, finding excuses so he wouldn’t have to tell his father.
“Nico,” Bianca sighed quietly. Eyebrows raising for a second as she began to fade, Bianca quickly understood what was happening.“You’ve summoned me for far too long already, I have to go.” Nico let out a strangled sound, restraining himself from reaching out to try and keep her here with him, because he knew it would be useless.
“It was lovely talking to you again, and I’m sure that Father will say the same when you tell him.” Nico’s lips thinned and he frowned, and Bianca knew that look well. “Please, for me, mio fratello?” She asked, voice barely audible as she faded away, back in Elysium.
Nico could never resist it when his sister spoke in Italian. It would only be used when she was expressing extreme admiration or happiness, which was why he absolutely melted when Bianca called him ‘mio fratello.’
That was also why he was tugging on a jacket to cover his pride shirt, buttons, pins, and bracelets as he went to find Hades.
Besides, what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t grant his sister’s last, true, dying wish? Nico felt like Bianca had been waiting for him to summon her one last time before choosing to be reborn. To let them have one more conversation before she was truly gone.
Pushing that thought away, Nico wandered the halls of Hades’ vast palace, looking in every room for the God himself.
“Father?” Nico finally picked the right room, opening the door to find Hades in a chair, reading a book.
“Yes?” He didn’t even bother to look up from whatever he was reading, and that slightly deflated Nico’s already waning confidence.
“I have something to tell you.” Anxiously shifting from foot to foot in the doorway, Nico awaited his father’s response.
Eyebrows raising by a fraction, Hades raised a hand, beckoning his son into the room. Nervously shuffling in, Nico stood a good meter away from the God of the Underworld, afraid.
Not that the distance would do much since, well, Hades was the God of the Underworld.
“Do continue,” his father drawled, idly flipping a page as he spoke.
“It’s kind of a serious confession,” Nico mumbled, almost visibly shaking from having to restrain himself from turning tail and running, as well as the feeling of absolute terror bubbling in his stomach.
Still not bothering to look up, Hades rolled two fingers, gesturing for him to continue.
“I’m...g-ga-” Nico stuttered, already feeling his face heat up. It took him a good minute to compose himself and finish his short sentence, during which Hades hardly blinked an eye at the awkwardness. “I’m gay,” he finally managed to choked out, voice barely above a whisper.
Immediately, Nico began to panic. His dad was the literal God of the Underworld, so even if he died, then he could still be sent to the Fields of Punishment. Afterall, who cared about the small Italian boy enough to argue with a God?
Bianca cares, he reminded himself. But she’s dead, you idiot! She’s a ghost, and going to be reborn soon. If you go to the Field of Punishment, what will she be able to do?
Panic overwhelmed him, and Nico was on the verge of hyperventilating. Until his father spoke and somehow calmed every nerve in his body.
“Okay.” That was it. One syllable to assure Nico that everything was alright. His breathing slowed, but he wasn’t so easily convinced that Hades was okay with him being gay.
“Father, I don’t think you heard me properly. Perhaps you were distracted with reading? I said I was gay.” Unzipping his jacket, Nico let it fall to the floor and made wild gestures at his clothes and accessories.
“Nico, I heard you fine. What’s your confession?” Hades’ eyes flicked up but he hardly seemed surprised at the rainbow wear, going back to read his book right after looking.
“I…” Nico stared in disbelief. Was Hades just dismissing his coming out as if it were a regular occurrence? Dismissing the fact that he was gay as though it hadn’t been something that Nico had fought tooth and nail to keep secret?
“Nico?” The God prompted, flipping another page.
“That’s it. That was the confession,” Nico whispered. “I’m gay. That’s the confession.” For the first time in their (admittedly short) conversation, Hades properly looked up from his book, frowning at Nico.
“That’s your confession?”
The boy silently nodded, looking at his feet. “Well, I...I thought you’d be mad or something.”
“Mad at the fact you’re gay.” Hades (somehow) looked Nico in the eyes (even though he was staring at the floor as though it were the most interesting thing in the world) for confirmation, and he nodded again.
Sighing, Hades closed his book and stood, gently placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m not and won’t be mad.”
“Really?” NIco gasped, looking up at him with shining eyes.
“Of course,” Hades scoffed. “There’s no way you can be more gay than Apollo, and he’s been my nephew for thousands of years.” He paused for a second before summoning a chair. “That reminds me. You are long overdue for a Greek Mythology review if you think that I, a Greek God, would have a problem with a gay son.”
#Nico di Angelo#Hades#Bianca di Angelo#gay#pjo#hoo#Heroes of Olympus#Percy Jackson and the Olympians#lgbtq#This is in honour of the beginning of pride month#had to scramble to finish this before 12#have a good pride month y'all#I'll be trying to post as many lgbtq oneshots as possible#or oneshots in general tbh#lgbtqia#toa#trails of apollo#pjo oneshot#hoo oneshot#toa oneshot#oneshot#riordanverse#nico di angelo oneshot#literalyl 11:47 rn#so#barely made it
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I know i wrote about Yoongi experiencing y/n’s death but what if Yoongi WAS death?
prompt from @btswritingprompts ‘s blog <3
prompt: you die and death appears before you to take you to the afterlife. You expect a dark and cruel creature, like they tell of on earth but he’s actually..... a dork. He’s a pale, skinny kid with dark hair falling into his eyes, wearing jeans and a hoodie.
-----------------------------------------
She looked up at Death, he looked surprisingly different from what she had expected. There was no cloak covering his face or a large scythe in hand, no dark skin and eyes that looked like burning coals. He wasn’t old by any means, he was almost the same age as her. He was pale and skinny, dark hair falling into his droopy eyes, he looked tired and sleepy and she had the urge to ask him if he ever got to rest at all.
Death noticed the girl eyeing his clothes, a black slam dunk hoodie and ripped black jeans, she was clearly judging him. “It’s dress down Friday, don’t judge me” he grumbled, the girl seemed the least bit freaked out about her own death, “are you just going to judge me? no crying or anything?” he asked cautiously, she simply shook her head, no crying, she had come to terms with her death long ago.
“come on then, I’ll guide you to the afterlife” he said, holding his had out to her. She took his hand as they started walking, she paid close attention to her surroundings, glass walls surrounded her, displaying what had happened just a few moments ago before she had lost her life, “how do you get to the afterlife?” she asked as she followed after him. “you go backwards in life till you reach the afterlife because the afterlife and the beforelife are the same” he explained as they went through what the girl had done yesterday, nothing special, just puking her guts out in the hospital, “why are you not freaking out?” Death asked starting to get a little worried, “because this is what i wanted for a long time now, they can live in peace now” she answered as they walked on.
“how long does it take to reach the afterlife?” she questioned, “how old are you?” he asked, “20″ she replied, “wow your young, it’ll take 20 days to reach the afterlife, one day for every year you have lived” he mumbled as they passed through more days of her being sick, some days in the hospital, some days at home, didn’t matter, she was sick. “are you sure you’re not gonna cry, i was hoping to get a front row seat to some crying and sobbing” he asked again, she punched him.
“is that why you took this job? so you can see people crying and sobbing over their own dead bodies?” she asked, “precisely” Death admitted before asking her another question, “how long have you been sick?” , they had passed more than half a year and she was still sick, either in bed or on the floor. “ a little over an year” she answered as she looked at herself, struggling to eat and sleep or even breath sometimes, “you almost died here you know” he said, pointing to when she had woken up from her sleep due to a nightmare, “you were the stubbornest soul us grim reapers have worked with, after Jesus ofcourse” he informed, “you simply refused to die, you’re very popular among the grim reapers” he added as nightfall came on the path. “rest child” he instructed, stopping at a street corner so she could stay still for a moment as he finished the paperwork for her soul.
----------------------------------------------
Soul Fill Form
Name: Y/n
age: 20
Gender : F
Cause of death: Sickness
Day: Friday
Delivering soul to: reaper’s club for wannabe reapers
Name of Reaper delivering: Min Yoongi (death)
Reaper no.: 090393
--------------------------------------------
They rested for a while more before starting on their journey to the next year, the last three month were the same, sickness and pain edged themselves into her life, “how did you end up a reaper?” she asked, “career counselling” he shrugged as they kept walking. He snorted when he saw her splash a glass of lemonade at someone, this was a few months before she had started to get sick, she had clearly had a happy life before she had gotten sick, plenty of friends and loving family members but she didn’t react to them.
“bruh you're hella weird” he said out loud looking at her having a loudest fart competition with her brother, “it was a phase ok” she grumbled, “i doubt people go through phases at 19″ he laughed as they moved on stopping at where she had her first kiss, “ewww, i don’t want to see that” he protested but she still dragged him to watch her making out with a random dude, “was he good?” Death asked as they moved on, he had refused to watch the porno the random dude and her had reenacted. “pretty good” she shrugged as they moved on, they stopped in between for pocky sticks from a stall run by Seokjin who seemed to be familiar with Death because he delivered a few choice insults before handing them pocky sticks and tangerines to enjoy on their journey.
“where do you think ghouls send their post?” he asked randomly on day 5, she shrugged, “the ghost office” he laughed, she scoffed at his bad sense of humor, “Seokjin taught you that didn’t he?” she asked, he nodded admitting that he himself didn’t enjoy those jokes much.
The days started to drag on from day 7, they still had 13 days to go and in those 13 days, Death behaved like a dear friend, he rambled on about what he did before he died, his interests and career before he had been killed in a car crash, he had explained all that when she had noticed the needle scars on her arms and the scars underneath her dress where she had been operated on. He had showed her the scars on his palms, faded with time but they were still there, a little bump on his gentle touch.
Apparently the scars would remain as a reminder of how they had died, at least one of them would change into a birthmark when they were reborn, “how many times were you reborn?” she asked him, curiosity poking at her, “never, i didn’t want to be born again and experience all that again, they give you a choice, you can choose if you’d want to be reborn or not” he explained as they walked through when she was 11 years old, “you were a cute 11 year old” he observed looking at her chubby cheeks and the ribbons in her hair. She just grinned at his observation.
He found her endearing, her constant babbling and the way she treated him. Her heart shaped lips and pink tinted cheeks. She was lovable and he found himself getting more and more attached to her, she was no longer just another soul, she was Y/n, the soul of a perfect human. She’d be a great reaper he reckoned, she’d be able to calm and console souls who had passed with lots of matters to settle.
The closer they go to the afterlife the more questions Y/n had, she’d bug him again and again, asking the most bizarre ones he had ever encountered. She asked about the people who he had escorted, anyone famous?, how many reapers were there? could she become a reaper? would she see him again? would she see other reapers as well?
They reached the gates of the afterlife/beforelife soon enough and Death handed the guard her form before taking her hands in his, “be good, don’t give them a hard time, I’ll come to get you once your training is done, that is incase you decide not to be reborn, even then I’ll still see you soon, even though you’d have to wait a few years before you can see me like that” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “stay strong Y/n” he whispered, pressing another kiss to her forehead before pulling away from her, “good bye Death” she said making him pause, “it’s Yoongi now, not Death, Yoongi” he told her, letting go of her hands, “Yoongi,” she whispered, his name sounding like a sweet melody on her tongue, “good bye, i’ll see you soon” she mumbled as the guard opened the heavy metal gates, waiting for her to pass through.
They held on to each other till they couldn’t anymore. Death watched on as his beloved walk through the gates into the afterlife, satisfied that he would see her again soon enough.
Y/n followed the guard to a well lit room in which a tall man in a striking blazer was seated, “hello, welcome to the afterlife, I am Namjoon the career counselor” he introduced as the guard placed her paperwork in front of him, he went through the papers before pausing at the last sheet, he smiled at Yoongi’s messy scrawl that he called a handwriting
“ GO EASY ON HER FOR ME <3 - Yoongi/Death“
__________________________________________
#bts#bts jhope#bts jimin#bts jungkook#bts namjoon#bts suga#bts fanfction#bts fantasy au#bts fic#bts jin#bts fanfic#bts taehyung#bts writing#bts au fanfic#bts army#bts au#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi imagine#bts yoongi#grim reaper#bts agust d#bts scenarios#kpop imagines#yoongi fluff
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“Don’t you remember me?” maybe for ghost!ava (if it fits and you’d like to)?
Forgotten | 16:22
Time of death!AU; Ava leaves her OR for the first time and realizes some things do change
CW: Ava and Jason are still dead, Mentions of their deaths, very minor allusion to non-con between Ava and Cornelius
***
Jason had warned Ava not to get upset when she was finally able to leave her OR. It had been a few months from what he had told her, and things might be very different in the hospital. The two ghosts had their differences, a lot of butting heads, but slowly Ava had let her guard down. Jason was a pain in the ass but he was also her only link to the living world, the rest of the spirits inhabiting this hospital too faded or traumatized to help her.
"I just want to see what's going on," Ava told him as she let her form fade from existence enough to pass through the double doors, "And I've been practicing; I want to leave this place."
"Don't push yourself, Bekker," he reminded her, "It'll hurt to be away from your death place for the first while, don't be a dumbass."
"Says the dumbass."
"I take offense to that," he replied, his voice disembodied as Jason phased out again. He spent a lot of time up on the roof, she figured, even though technically his death place would have been somewhere midair before he hit the ground. Still, she didn't bother wondering what he was up to when he wasn't driving her insane. The resident had his own thing, he had been here way longer than her, and she really didn't care all too much anyway.
It felt weird, being out of the OR for the first time in her new form. She had watched plenty of surgeries since her incident, the crime scene tape being swapped out for sterile drapes once again. She never saw Connor again, though, not since the last time her body had occupied that room. Jason had seemed off when she mentioned how she wanted to find Connor, his eyes giving away the concern he didn't voice. She knew she shouldn't, though he wouldn't be able to see Ava anyway, but a part of her needed to find him again; for closure if anything else.
Navigating things in the in between - that's what Jason called their place between living and the afterlife - was weird. Ava had not gotten used to floating through objects, even after so long, and she rolled her eyes every time she flinched before not colliding with a wall. passing between floors was also hard to adjust to, still unsure about just how the others got enough height to pass through the ceiling.
It took some time for Ava to find the ED, feeling like a stranger in Gaffney once again. That was something she never really told Connor, or anyone, when she was still alive. She had been in Chicago for so long and yet she never felt like she had a place outside the operating room. Ava was always the afterthought, only included if Connor was the one to invite her. She didn't really have friends, not in this damned hospital, and it hurt far more than she ever admitted. Maybe that's why no one noticed the way she spiraled in the months leading up to her death; Ava Bekker was just a stranger that no one paid mind to.
The ED was bustling with activity like always, though time moved in an oddly different way for Ava. She could see things happening in normal speed, yet everyone's voices had a bit of echo, as if trapped in a tunnel. She tried to keep herself half phased to avoid accidentally moving anything, not wanting to give herself away.
Maggie was there, running her department with that familiar ease once again. Ava studied her movements for a moment, watching her send patients to different rooms and look over a chart someone was showing her. There was a sense of peace to watching Maggie work, even though the ED was a constant rush of panic and hurt. Sure enough, Ava could feel that she wasn't the only spirit in the department, though they all stayed hidden from her view. A lot of the people who couldn't pass on stayed quiet until they faded, not ready to face the afterlife stuck at Gaffney. Ava understood that, though she herself couldn't stay idle indefinitely.
She was torn out of her thoughts by a familiar voice, the tone catching her attention immediately. Natalie, she identified quickly, had announced her presence to Maggie as she walked through the ED doors.
"Look what the cat dragged in," the charge nurse exclaimed as she zeroed in on the person walking a bit behind the doctor. Ava realized just who that figure was as her attention snapped from Natalie to him.
"Connor, good to see you," Maggie had hugged him quickly, unaware of the ghostly eyes burning daggers through her back.
Connor was there, he really was, and Ava didn't know how to cope with it. It all hit her too hard, much more than she expected, and she felt a wave of emotions overcome her. In the worst instance since it happened, all the details of her death came flooding back. All she could feel was pain, flooding her lungs like they still existed. her neck wound ached, in a way she had never experience - didn't think ghosts could - and she wanted to scream. The memory of his touch, his arms being the last thing she felt, was no longer comforting to her. Ava was frozen, eyes tracking his every move because it was all she could do.
"How's Mayo?"
Maggie's question made her stop, the words hitting her like a bag of bricks. Mayo clinic... he had left. Connor had taken the Mayo job, after all she did to keep him in Chicago; to keep them together. He was gone the second she died, Ava realized, and it hurt way more than that goddamned scalpel ever did.
"Christ, you have some gall," she found herself saying as she inched closer to the nurses' station, "You really fucking left me didn't you? You ran away the second you saw the chance."
The man her angry words were aimed at didn't hear her, of course he didn't, yet Ava couldn't stop. She wanted to walk over there and hit him but she also wanted to grab at his coat and beg him to come back. It didn't matter that she was dead, Connor wasn't supposed to leave her ever. That's why she did all of this, she did everything for him and all she got in return was fucking pain.
"It's good... really good," his words tore into her as she watched again, feeling her form flickering in her anger. She didn't notice the way Natalie suddenly looked uncomfortable, the woman glancing over her shoulder and looking right through Ava. Maybe if she calmed down she would have realized the doctor could feel Ava there, an angry presence filling the air, yet she was too upset to care.
"Oh of course it is," she spat, "I bet you forgot all about me, didn't you? You went on to your cushy little job in the private sector the second you got rid of me."
Ava was fuming, all of her pain and the months of idle anger hitting her at once. He was never supposed to leave, especially not like this. She had given up so many things to ensure he never went to Mayo, she had risked her job and her safety by going to his father back then and he didn't even care. Ava had given up her dignity and her consent the second she asked Cornelius Rhodes for help, never feeling safe in her own body after that. She didn't care in the end, though, because it had all been for Connor. He was her person, her safety in all of the fear she felt, and she would do anything for his love. Everything she had done, everything she had risked, was for him and he continued to be ungrateful.
"What the fuck, Connor," suddenly the lights in the ED flickered harshly, matching the way her whole form stuttered. Everyone looked up at the anomaly in confusion, considering there was no reason for the power to flicker at all. Ava didn't care, even though Jason's warnings about interacting with the human world rang though her head. She was far too hurt and upset to care, tears tracking down her face as she stared at the man she loved.
"Don't you remember me?" she begged, "How have you forgotten about me… about us?"
Hands landed on Ava's shoulders, something she didn't expect because they weren't technically there. Before she could continue her assault of words she was being dragged, the lights ceasing their strobe effect the second she had been pulled into the conference room.
"Bekker, what the fuck are you doing?"
"He forgot..." her rage slowly dissipated and was replaced by sheer sadness as she stared through him to look at Connor, "He l-left and fucking forgot about me, Jason. I gave him everything... I fucking... I died for him and now n-none of it even matters."
#haha#this is. so much pain#thank you guys for allowing me to go feral#god I’m obsessed with this#I don’t know the word count 🥲#ava bekker#jason wheeler#connor rhodes#rhekker#my aus#16:22#time of death!au#ghost!ava#ghost!jason#asks#mutuals#zee tag
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Hey! I absolutely loved your Zuko x reader one host you wrote, and I was wondering if you could do one where Zuko and the reader barely talk, but she’s part of Azula’s friend group. At the beach some stuff happens, and Zuko finds out she’s not as crazy as he thought she was. Kind of angst. I totally understand if you can’t, or don’t feel like it! I hope you’re safe and healthy, and everything is going well. Thank you!
From Eden (Zuko x Reader)
Word Count: 1,776 (FUHREEDOM MOTHERFUCKERS 🎆🦅🦅🦅 🎆 )
Author’s Note: Ok this request is P E R F E C T. I don’t think I need to tell anyone I love the psychology of this show, but I love the psychology of this show - especially with Zuko and his relationship with himself and others. And this episode??? Ohhhhhh I have some THINGS. TO. SAY. about this episode. I have been in this boy’s place and I feel 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 him 👏🏻 he 👏🏻 deserves 👏🏻 better 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻. I went in a sliiiiiiightly different direction, but I didn’t drastically change it (it turned out cute I think). Also, I named this “From Eden” because as I was writing it reminded me of the Hozier song. I’m such a sucker for a Broken Babe™, especially when the babe in question has a lot of personal growth and learns to love because of it. Thank you so much for this, anon, you’re absolutely gorgeous and I hope you’re keeping safe and healthy as well ❤
~ Muerta
(Also, if you’d like to request something, I have a list of prompts tagged! Feel free to ask for anything from fics to headcanons to imagines - I’m also open to new character suggestions!)
“Hey.”
Zuko sat on the porch of his family’s old vacation home, his mind miles away. Your greeting made him snap his head towards you, glowering down at where you stood at the base of the front steps. You crossed your arms, responding to his gaze with a defiant glare.
“What do you want?” he growled.
“To have normal friends,” you spat in reply. “Seems I’m stuck with you instead.”
A few hours ago, Zuko almost made a crater in the beach from the campfire you, his sister Azula, and your friends Mai and Ty Lee had started a screaming match around. Insults were flung, tears were shed, and skeletons were evicted from closets, all resulting in your realization that maybe political survival wasn’t worth the dysfunction of constantly being surrounded by a sociopath and her cronies. Pretending to have a super fun sleepover with them back at the guest house was proving to be too much for your fragile sense of self-containment, and you weren’t quite friendly enough with your newfound death wish to tell Azula how you really felt about her, so you went where you knew it would be quiet. You didn’t expect to find Zuko and his anger issues there a second time, but he honestly didn’t scare you - you’d take his obvious rage over Azula’s subtle calculations any day.
“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Zuko jeered. “You’re just as emotionally fucked as the rest of them.”
“Ty Lee’s got herself pretty much under control, despite her gullibility,” you answered cooly. “Also, if you really wanna talk about emotionally fucked, I’m not the one who almost roasted my ex-girlfriend alive earlier.”
Zuko furrowed his brow at you, leaning forward as if to challenge you. You stayed exactly as you were, regarding him with a hard, unimpressed expression that revealed just how little he intimidated you. You couldn’t bend and weren’t a trained fighter - you knew he knew this, and that he wouldn’t actually attack you, despite how convincing he tried to make his empty threat appear. After a long, intense moment of wrinkled foreheads and competitive frowning, he backed off with a sigh, leaning back against the pillar behind him.
“So, what, you want to come and make peace? Talk it out or something?”
You shook your head, climbing the steps and lowering yourself onto the second highest; just below him, with a few feet between you as a courtesy.
“The last thing I want to do is talk about that dumpster fire on the beach,” you told him. “I just needed some time alone. But, since I found you, I guess it’s a good time to ask if you’re okay.”
Zuko looked you up and down, a confused and partially concerned look on his face. You half expected him to raise the back of his hand to your forehead to check for fever.
“What do you care if I’m okay or not?” he asked bitterly. “We’re not friends.”
“Zuko, I’ve known you since I was a toddler,” you said. “I’d say we’re friends. It’s not like anyone else really is.”
“Mai is my girlfriend,” Zuko snapped at you. “She’s the best friend I have!”
“Mai dumped you for being a possessive asshole,” you deadpanned, “then she let her best friend convince you to commit arson. Friends don’t let their friends’ sisters manipulate them into felonies.”
Zuko huffed, slumping back defeatedly.
“You can’t act like Azula’s never made you do anything you didn’t want to,” he grumbled.
“I don’t,” you replied shortly. “I’ve just stopped caring about making her like me, since she really doesn’t like anyone. She doesn't get under my skin like she used to when we were kids.”
You noticed Zuko’s lips curl upwards into the ghost of a smile. You mirrored him, leaning your arms atop your upright knees.
“What?” you asked.
Zuko chuckled faintly, shaking his head.
“Nothing,” he responded. “You just… Do you remember when you were eight, and Azula teased Ty Lee about being too slow climbing the trees in our courtyard?”
Your eyes widened in realization, your mouth parting into a wide smile as you let out a gasp of hysterical laughter.
“Oh, that was awful!” you cried, though the memory only brought more fits of giggles to your gut. “I was such a little brat!”
Zuko was laughing with you too now, arms wrapped over his stomach as he tried to speak between breaths.
“It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” he exclaimed. “Watching her fall out of the tree like that, the shock on her face, and then I caught you with the knife and saw where you cut the branch... She deserved it. You should give her a taste of her own medicine like that more often.”
You blushed, looking away from him as your laughter died down.
“Now she could kill me if she wanted,” you said. “I try not to say or do anything around her if I can help it.”
“... Is that why you’ve been so quiet since then?”
You nodded.
“She beat me up when she found out what I did,” you explained.
You stood, pulling down the waist of your sarong to reveal the burn scar on your right hip. Zuko’s eyes burst with shock at first, wondering exactly why you’d be disrobing in front of him, his expression softening when he saw the mark Azula left.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Most brothers feel like they should protect their little sisters. I always felt like I should’ve protected all of you from her.”
“You did,” you assured him. You sat back down beside him, closer this time, so that your hips almost touched. “I remember you jumped in front of her once when she threatened us. And that time…”
Your voice faded, the memory almost bringing tears to your eyes. You couldn’t figure out why.
“You hid from her,” Zuko finished your thought.
You nodded.
“You let me hide in your room,” you recalled. “Remember? Azula punched me. I ran to the first quiet place I could find and accidentally went to your room.”
Zuko hummed.
“You were crying,” he added, “and your eye was all red and swollen.”
“You held me.”
Zuko’s eyes fixed on you. He didn’t say anything, though he remembered; you burst through his half open door, sniffling, tears and spittle running down your cheeks and chin. It was the first time Azula had actually, physically hurt you, and you were terrified and confused. He asked if you were okay, and you shook your head. Being so young, the only thing he could think to do was hug you, since that’s what his mother did to make him feel better, and you clung to him, sobbing into his shirt and using his much bigger body for protection. After that day, he let you use his bedroom as a hiding place whenever Azula got to be too much - until she found out about it and started teasing you about wedding dresses and baby names.
“We were friends,” you breathed. “I wish we still were.”
There was a long silence in which the two of you stared out at the horizon, down the steep hill leading to the vacation house and into the ocean. The moon hung in a small sliver, barely flickering across the calm waters that rocked below; you could hear the gentle rush of waves as they crawled over the sand and shrunk back into themselves, creating a calming din that echoed up to where you sat.
“... I still remember your favorite game to play with me,” Zuko said into the warm air between you. “Those times you hid in my room. You used to pretend to be a Kyoshi warrior. My mom gave you one of her old fans and we’d jump on and off my bed, trying to catch each other.”
You grinned.
“I would wrap myself around your legs to keep you from walking,” you recalled.
Zuko laughed.
“I loved that,” he admitted. “It used to make me laugh so hard when we were kids.”
He looked over to you, and you turned to face him as well. The anger in his eyes was gone completely, in its place a warm, steady sadness that made you ache.
“I miss you,” he whispered.
You reached cautiously for his hand, relieved when he slid his fingers between yours and gripped your palm tightly.
“I miss you, too,” you replied. “I’m sorry I let Azula drive me away from you.”
Zuko wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tender embrace. Your hands latched together on either side of his back, gripping into his shirt a little bit as you buried your face in his shoulder. He felt and smelled the same as he did when you were little; hard like the walls of a sturdy house and sweet like the last embers in a fireplace.
You didn’t know how long you held each other, but when you broke apart, you sat together for ages, existing in silence on the steps of his childhood house and beside one another. You felt small again, but in the best way - you felt like the girl who was brave enough to cut through the branches of a maple tree so your tormenter would fall out of them.
“I want to run away,” you blurted. “I could be someone totally different if I weren’t stuck here.”
“If you do, I’ll go with you,” Zuko said. “We can be different people together.”
You grinned, leaning your shoulder against his.
“We could move to Kyoshi Island,” you suggested. “I’m too old to start warrior training now, but we could start a business. Open an inn or something.”
Zuko chuckled at the thought.
“I’ll call myself Lee,” he mused, “and you can go by Izumi.”
“Maybe we could be married. And we could adopt orphan children and cats.”
“Just cats. You can’t emotionally destroy a cat like you can with a kid.”
You glanced over at him, noticing the hard gleam in his eye. You wrapped your arms around his bicep, holding him close to you.
“You’re not your father, Zuko,” you whispered. “You don’t want to be.”
Zuko nodded. He reached for one of your hands, curling his own around it.
“... I feel like I am going to leave,” he said, “at some point. When I do… will you stay? So that I have at least one friendly face to come home to someday?”
You nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
“I will,” you promised. “And when you do, I’ll give you Azula’s severed head as a homecoming present.”
Zuko laughed at that.
{ epilogue }
#requests#muerta's works#zuko#prince zuko#zuko fluff#prince zuko fluff#zuko angst#zuko x reader#zuko x you#prince zuko x reader#prince zuko x you#zuko fanfic#prince zuko fanfic#zuko x reader fluff#zuko x reader angst#atla fanfic#avatar fanfiction
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We Live Forever in Ink and Paper
I'm back babessss!! I know I haven't written anything in a hot second but have this! Idk when Protect You and SIMH will be updated (I have major commitment issues when it comes to multi-chapter stories), but I'm still working on my Illicit Affairs fic and ofc all the one-shots in my head rn so probably just more of those until I get more ideas for my multi-chapters.
Anyway.......
So this is basically canon-divergence? Kind of? I think that's the best way I can describe it but honestly who knows what this is. It's a very angsty thing based on this quote:
“Only promise me one thing,” he said. “If I do go, give us a happy ending, will you? In your book?”
“I don’t believe in endings,” she said. -Chain of Iron, (424)
Jesse Blackthorn knew, without a doubt, he was fading. Completely. Irrevocably. He stood in what once was his bedroom in Blackthorn manor, the empty, ruined, manor.
Lucinda leaped forward, “Jethro!” Her lover caught her in a tight embrace and cradled her close, as close as he could. As if trying to mold them together.
He stumbled forward, hands clawing at the air in front of him. He fell to his knees and watched how quickly his hands were disappearing. “Lucie,” He called out to the empty estate. His voice was scratchy and low. It pained him to speak.
The midnight moon shone bright, unaffected, and uninterested in the actions that took place below her glittering light. He’d always thought the moon was beautiful, but now she taunted him. He couldn’t be awake in the day and now his final stand would be under her light. It's time to go, she seemed to say.
The woods around the manor was deathly silent, the rain from hours before pooled on top of leaves and odd mounds of dirt. The moonlight reflected off of them, making shapes against the remains of the worm-eaten wood beneath him. But other than that, there was nothing. Nothing was moving. Nothing was alive. He would’ve laughed at the irony if everything didn’t hurt.
“Lucie,” He choked out one more time before even sitting on his knees became too much and he fell to his hands, not understanding how he felt the splintered wood beneath his hands, if he wasn’t dead, his palms would be scratched raw.
He glared at the moon, suddenly filled with incomprehensible rage and hatred. “It’s just you and me, isn’t it? It’s always been just me and you.”
“Lucinda, my love,” Jethro whispered into her hair, “My heroine.”
“My Jesse Jethro,” She responded.
He was crying, not for himself but for his sister, Grace, and what this loss would do to her. He remembered training her, sometimes in this very room, he remembered her spirit. Everything that made Grace Blackthorn herself. He prayed to anybody who might be listening that she wouldn’t end up like their mother, wasting away alongside her house, her reputation, her dignity. He hoped she found peace, that when she finally went to her own grave, she went happy.
He was also crying for the girl -the woman- that he loved. Lucie Herondale. That beautiful, stubborn, marvelous woman. She had done everything and anything for him, and now he was fading forever, and he couldn’t even say goodbye.
He thought about trying to make it to the Institute, on the slim chance she was there. He had half a mind to do it when a convulsion wracked his body and he curled into a ball on the horrible wood floors. He felt like the child he had been when he was alive and young. A small, sickly, lonely, child. So, so, lonely.
A scream shuddered through his entire body. It was too much, it was all too much. The house seemed to shake with him and he tried to curl further into himself, feeling every bit the cowardly child he’d always been. Every time he sobbed the house, the ruins, seemed to wail with him.
This damned house had always been filled with ghosts, even before he’d died all those years ago.
He hadn’t done enough for her. He’d never done enough for her. Not what she’d done, what she was doing, for him. He’d kept himself here this long for her. Telling himself that his heroine needed him, but it wasn’t true. She didn’t need him. He needed her. He selfishly wanted her with him, now, though it would most likely destroy her to see him in such a state.
“I love you, Lucie Herondale.” And with those final words, Jesse Rupert Blackthorn was gone forever.
Lucinda pulled from the embrace just enough to cradle her love’s face in her hands. His own hands wound their way into her hair and they met in the middle, sharing a kiss to rival all of their others before. A kiss that said just how much they’d missed each other. How much they love each other.
Lucie Herondale knew, without a doubt, she was going to die. She’d committed heinous crimes attempting to raise Jesse, and the Clave could not let it stand. Her family fought for her, of course. They still were, if she knew them at all. But she had come to terms with her fate. She’d only asked, as she sat in her cell, awaiting the day her life would be taken from her (like Jesse’s had wrongfully been taken from him) for a pen and a scrap of paper. She’d been denied at first, but after much pestering, (She could pester quite well thanks to being a younger sister) Someone had snuck her the tools. So she sat cross-legged on the disgusting floor of her cell and wrote, angling her body to be able to use the dying sunlight.
Lucie and Jesse’s story was coming to a close, not a finale, no. It wouldn’t be a finale if Jethro and Lucinda lived on. She would make sure they lived on.
Her cell door swung open and she shoved the paper in pen into the neckline of her dress. (Could it even be considered a dress? It certainly wasn’t fashionable. It’d make Anna and Matthew both faint, honestly.)
A silent brother stood in the opening, his entire form was shadowed by the poor lighting but she knew immediately it wasn’t her uncle Jem. She couldn’t be surprised. Why would he want to see what was about to happen to her?
Rise. He instructed her.
She narrowed her eyes and made sure to take her sweet time with it, pushing off her knees and brushing off her skirt. It wasn't like it did much, the cell floor was disgusting but it's the thought that counts.
He walked behind her the entire time, through twisting corridors, long enough that her mind had started to play tricks on her, that the long-dead Shadowhunters were clawing out of the walls for her. Wailing and whimpering. You will be one of us. You will. You will. He will. He will. You both belong here.
Miss Herondale? Lucie realized she'd frozen in the hallway, a hand over her breast, where her notebook was tucked away.
"Please," She said, not facing the Brother. "Give me a few minutes. I have to-" She broke off when she felt the Silent Brother step back. She took it as the closest to consent as she would get and she fell to her knees, using her thighs as a surface to write on.
"How much longer until you leave?" Lucinda asked.
Jethro was cupping her face in his hands, Lucinda's hands rested on his shoulders. They couldn't bring themselves to fully part.
"I-" He sighed and his hands moved to her waist, burying his face in her hair. "Too soon."
She laughed, but it was a broken sound. "The world needs us, Jethro. You know that."
"If only our adventures did not require our separation."
"Indeed."
Lucinda felt her eyes flutter as Jethro stroked her hair, "'m tired."
"Saving populations is exhausting, my love."
She wanted to laugh but she was almost already completely asleep. Jethro bent and swept her up until he was cradling her against his warm, alive chest. "Sleep, love, I'll be here when you wake up. I'll always be here."
Miss Herondale! The silent brother was in front of her now, I gave you as much time as I could. It's time to go.
Lucie nodded and tucked her notebook away again. It was indeed, time to go.
As the silent brother marched her forward she didn't feel the overwhelming panic she'd prepared for. She felt- Well she felt at peace. It was time to go, and she was ready.
Her hand drifted up to the place the locket would be if she'd been allowed to keep it, and her other hand rested on her notebook.
"I love you, Jesse Blackthorn." The silent brother glanced over at her, but she'd bowed her head.
It's time to go.
#jesse blackthorn#lucie herondale#angst#what is this? great question#character death#like big time#blackdale#lucie and jesse#jesse and lucie#lucie x jesse#jesse x lucie#coi spoilers#chain of iron spoilers#chain of iron fic#tsc fanfic#tsc characters#the beautiful cordelia#grace blackthorn
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Take Me Home Now: Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve: In Your Head, In Your Head, They are Dyin'
Set after the events of ME3.
A rewrite. Ao3.
FemShepxKaidan
Geez, open my big fucking mouth much? Oh Jane, could you go to the Citadel? But why shouldn't you? You said you had spent time there; you're the one person who knows how to get around. She half-assedly kicked at the locker at the foot of her cot, besides, Rogers is too green. We need someone with experience leading the team. It would be best if you kept busy; civilian life doesn't agree with you.
They couldn't order her around.
Jane craned her head, taking in the entirety of the beam that would catapult her into the Citadel. A frown was the sole betrayal of her panicked nervous system, she would never be ready to go back there. But this was not the time for fear, not when Biotic's Division looked to her guidance. At least she could hide the apprehension- they looked like they could piss themselves at any moment. Jane knew the beam wouldn't lead to death but they were not so confident. It seemed insane, she got it.
Roy and Helen talked amongst the students, leaving Jane some time to collect herself. The last time she had approached the beam the entirety of Hammer had died to get her here, it seemed too easy now that it was a simple jaunt down a hill.
"You sure this thing won't vaporize us?" Roger's question interrupted her solitude.
"I'm not saying it's going to be pleasant, or you'll like what we're going to find-" distress crossed the 2nd lieutenant's face, this was the wrong approach, "if Anderson's team could make it to activate the Crucible, I think we will be fine. Besides, think of the bragging rights- being the one to restore communications with the Citadel, and eventually with the rest of the galaxy. It's not a small thing."
"But I'm not leading the operation," Rogers's hadn't taken the forced deference to the Recruit well.
"Believe me, kid, you'll be glad for all the calls you didn't have to make." She had refused to lead on principle, even after several others had tried to guilt her for refusing the mission. Jane wouldn't have stepped up if not for a series of harsh conversations from Mr. Alenko, most of them implying he would take the mantle if she would not, "get the team into place, we leave in two."
Roy and Helen naturally separated from the group, not away from the mass of students but toward her. Roy led a step ahead and Helen fixing her with the usual judgmental stare from behind her husband.
"I'll be fine," the woman snapped the M-77 into a ready form, "it should be easy."
"Be careful."
How many times had she heard that? To boot, in the same somber tone. The last time, so physically close to where they stood now. It was an odd irony that his father stood closer to the beam than Kaidan had managed to get.
"Thank you," regret was a hell of a thing, so unprompted she grasped his hand unflinching under that whiskey-hued gaze. For a blip of a moment, she looked forward to coming back. Hope returned in a microdose.
The students lined up as ordered, each reaction as individual as the person who stood before the blue light while they wouldn't argue with the mission: it didn't mean they had to trust it. Jane would question flinging herself blindly into the beam, she had at a couple of points. On Illos, she at least had the Mako to give her the illusion of safety, here for the second time only experience made her undaunted besides the emotional toll.
"Alright, the mission is simple. Meet with Bailey or whoever is left in charge. After that, we worry about setting up the long-range commlink," it was better to put this off as a simple run, when things got complicated, they would deal with it then, "on arrival, where exactly we'll end up is a mystery. This functions much like a Mass Relay, so small groups and make sure your ass is out of the way."
Jane nodded to Rogers and the female that stood beside him, "anyone else want to go first?"
She didn't wait for a reaction before sauntering brazenly into the beam.
The Spectre had thought she was used to running into the unexpected. She had made a career of dealing with the strange, but awe of circumstance truly never went away. This time it was far more physical than expected. Pulling herself over the lip and onto the metal path, water violently expelling from her nose and mouth. If she were a little more with it, she would have pulled a gun on the Keeper scuttling by- but she was a little more focused on breathing. The next concern was the two in line behind her; one was lucky and ended up straddled over the railing the next erupted from the water much in the way she had.
Once it was clear all was fine, Jane rolled onto her back. Dark laughter barking from her diaphragm. It was a far cry from the body-lined hallways and corridors she had dreamed up, the relay monument looked down on her. God, she felt nauseous. Her sides didn't stop seizing until all breath left her body, eyes stinging with tears. Rolling to all fours, then finally upright the world swirled into sudden clarity.
This was the Presidium. Behind her, the partially broken statue that honored the krogan. A white spire jutting into the sky, a brave blue flower standing tall, heat speckled metal walkways, and the white-walled building. Her fingers raked through a tangle of wet hair, shook out her pistol, pulled Rogers from the railing, and tightly squeezed her fist until the twang of her muscles bid for release. The relay fired again, splashing followed, and the approach of footsteps came from her right side. The tepid water running down her face made pinpointing smells impossible, but she could sure taste the strange flavor of the unfiltered liquid.
"Holy shit."
"See, you should have never doubted me."
The Lieutenant did not find it quite so humourous.
"Lighten up, Kid," she remarked blithely, turning her attention to the squad that corralled them into the center of the walkway, "it's nice to see C-Sec arrive promptly."
The turian officer scoffed but lowered his weapon, "Bailey will want to see you."
"Good, we're looking for him."
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"How is it always you?" Bailey hardly looked up at her, "but I've got to admit, nobody else is crazy enough to walk through a beam on foot."
The man was one of the few who could recognize her immediately, even with grown-out and natural hair. He had seen the scarring left behind after the Lazarus Project before they had faded for the first time. It took only a little imagination to see past the more extensive facial scars.
"The first or second time?"
Bailey's head craned up, concern crossing his face, "Com-"
Jane waved a hand, "please, Bailey, that person is gone. Let her die with her crew."
The concern grew behind the glow of his omnitool "if anyone ever asks, you waved your Spectre status in my face. But I don't think you are here to catch up."
"No, I am not."
The team back on Earth had tried to reconnect with the Citadel, but all attempts to reach them had failed. So a mission to the station became necessary. Bailey attempted to skirt the subject, but life on the Citadel was not easy. Slowly some peace was restored but at a snail's pace. Whatever jammed the comms slowed any hope of a unified force on the station. It also explained their failure to find a tech expert who might fix the issue and perhaps the lack of a Spectre or someone of a higher rank to authorize it—security measures as usual were great until they hindered progress.
"I'll need you before you try and disappear again," Bailey warned, swirling the scotch in his lowball glass. He figured this was special occasion enough, even if the hero returned as little more than a ghost.
"I'll consider it my retirement party," she mused, finishing off the bitter liquid, "seems easy compared to a Reaper invasion."
"Nothing with you is ever simple."
"Hell, this could all be a dream... for both of us." It felt a little cold for a dream, but it was all surreal. For now, she put it off as walking old hallways and the memories of the companions that haunted the place.
"The scotch must be hitting you hard."
"I haven't hit the hard stuff since-" the statement crossed into territory painful for both of them, "but I say there is no time like the present. Must be driving my squad nuts waiting."
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
"Shepard before-"
Jane flinched, and Bailey retracted for a moment. Equal parts confusion and frustration with the jumpy woman. Perhaps it was time, untold horrors of war, or the alcohol that made her weird, if not mentioning the other multitude of reasons the Spectre seemed off her game. She went by a different name to the men she led, and it was becoming apparent the problem was far out of his wheelhouse.
"I have to give it to you plain, we found Anderson's body in here. It looked like he was shot."
"I know."
She had shot him after all. For a long time, she had tried reasoning that it was not her fault; after all, the Illusive Man had made her do it. Those strange cybernetic eyes had stared at her in her dreams, one of the thousands of voices taunting her. Those blue eyes had found her again as she walked the hallways to the Council Chambers.
"He must have activated the Crucible before he died, it's funny because we all assumed you had done it."
Jane hadn't activated the Crucible. That was true. Maybe Mary had; it was all a little foggy.
"We gave him the best funeral we could, I can take you there later if you like," Bailey offered, trying to rouse her with a touch.
Jane shook her head, "another time, this is enough."
Too much.
Bailey nodded, falling behind a few paces so she could absorb the room. Mentally, she remarked on little other than it had become a bit overgrown in disuse and that she liked it better without the constant trickle of running water.
"Nothing unusual up here, Ma'am," buzzed the comm.
"Roger, roger."
"It wasn't funny, even when the Major did it."
Fine, "hold position, I want eyes on anything that could go wrong. I'll place the shunt."
Jane moved slowly across the catwalk, the face staring at her accusingly grew clearer as she approached. The simple frame wreathed in upkept foilage, plants, and candles of all sorts making up an altar. She tried to move through littered petals and papers with reverence, but some wound up disturbed fluttering into the pit below. Jane crouched to cradle the picture gently, "Admiral."
Her blue eyes scanned upwards, resting on the bloody handprint covering the virtual interface sensor.
The total weight of another being crashed onto her, attempting to wrestle her from the catwalk. Even after weeks without combat, Jane dislodged the man with ease throwing him over the unprotected edge. The unnatural steel blue eyes, shocked with bright blue patterns, brimming with fury. Quickly as they had entered her vision, the figure went still and dark.
Coldly, empty, she returned the broken frame to its spot. Her complete attention turning to the console that lit up at her presence. The only break from her attention was the dramatic slam of her fists on the sides of the railing behind the console- it wasn't working.
Before she could release her temper upon the undeserving railing again, a keeper nudged her aside. Compiling the necessary commands with ease, the sudden noise of a system erupting in a blastwave. As quickly as the creature arrived, it scuttled back away. Leaving Jane to complete her task.
Bailey looked over the ledge, approaching the woman slowly once he was satisfied.
"Commander Bailey, you should have access to all Citadel systems," her bright blue eyes turned to him with a terrifying hollowness, "don't make me regret it."
"You- but, he," Bailey swallowed, running a hand over his cropped hair, "it's never simple with you."
He grabbed her arm before she slipped by him, "take this."
"I should go."
"Don't worry, you weren't here," he called after the stumbling figure.
Jane didn't recall stumbling back through the relay, or for that matter, picking her way back to the mall. Or the time she had left, or if she had bothered to warn anyone in the meantime. Reality was a persnickety thing at the moment, failing to anchor her securely to the present.
It was dark, the mechs hadn't stopped her, and not even her body was warning her of exhaustion. It was all instinct.
The room she stole into, that was not so much a call of instinct but of desperation. Her world grew colder, and it was beginning to tumble at a speed that she could barely withstand.
"Rahna."
Nothing.
"Rahna."
"Jane?"
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Fanfic for @tolkiengenweek!
Title: The Castaway
Works Referenced: The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion
Characters: Legolas, Gimli, Maglor
The small grey boat sat completed on the shoreline, and the last of the supplies were being packed for the next morning’s expected voyage, when Legolas and Gimli looked up from their preparations to see a stranger on the beach. From his deeply-lined face and greying hair, Gimli might at first glance have thought him a Man of Gondor, were it not for the keenness of the eyes.
Legolas’ hands went to his bow, and before Gimli could speak he had already notched an arrow and moved to stand between the stranger and the boat.
“Show your hands.”
The stranger held his hands out, palm up, and the right hand was curled and blackened to to second knuckle of the fingers, as though he had grasped a piece of metal new from the forge.
“Sit.”
The stranger sat in the sand, hands still held up in front of him.
Gimli at last found his voice. “Legolas, what are you doing? He is unarmed, he has offered us no threat, the Men of Minas Tirith assured us there were no evil things at the Mouths of Anduin - ”
“Evidently, the Men of Minas Tirith were mistaken.” Gimli had never heard such hate in Legolas’ voice, not even for Saruman or servants of the Enemy. “I will explain. For the present, believe me when I say that this is such a threat as we have not faced since the War, and seldom during it. Now -“ returning his attention to the stranger - “how and why are you here, and why now, and for what purpose?”
The stranger spoke slowly and softly, his eyes fixed on the sand.
“A fortnight ago I was far to the south of here. In a dream, I saw the Mouths of Anduin, and a small grey boat, and two companions at a distance. I thought it only a dream, but it returned in the same form four nights more, and on the morn of the fifth day I saw a great flock of gulls flying north. I thought it might be a sign, though I have had none such since we left Valinor, and I came north to meet it. And here I find you. Am I right in thinking,” - he paused - “that you mean to leave these shores?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have come to ask - to beg - for you to take me with you.”
*****
Legolas had sent the stranger a little ways up the beach, so that the camp lay between him and the ship, before he turned to talk with Gimli.
“How much do you remember of the tales of the Elder Days told at Rivendell? Or at Erebor?”
“I know the tales of Beren and Lúthien and the Great Jewel, of Túrin the Doomed, of Nargothrond and Gondolin and the war against the Dark Enemy.” He also knew of the war of Doriath and Tumunzahar, but he suspected that Erebor and the Forest of Greenleaves had differing accounts.
“And of Fëanor?”
“The maker of the Jewels. His grandson was the Ring-maker deceived by Sauron, and a great friend of Khazad-dûm and of Dúrin the Deathless. His sign was on the doors of Khazad-dûm.”
Legolas narrowed his lips. “Yes. That is what many would remember, in these days. Some tales are too dark to tell lightly to outsiders, and too ill to tell for pleasure. The Elves remember, but few others care to, beyond the lore-masters. For our times are happier, at least in that we know our enemies from our friends.
“When the Dark Enemy slew the Lights that were before the Sun and Moon, and stole the Great Jewels, Fëanor and his sons swore to reclaim the Jewels and to slay any that possessed them, or else be doomed to Darkness Everlasting. To leave the Blessed Realm swiftly, they slew the greater part of my kin that lived there and stole their ships. In the long years when the Dark Enemy held the jewels, they never attacked him in his fortress, but when Beren and Lúthien freed the Jewel, and their son ruled as King of Doriath - ” Legolas paused and threw a hard look at the stranger. “They destroyed Doriath and slaughtered its people. They killed the King and Queen and their young sons, and when the King’s daughter escaped, they slew near all that remained of her people. But she was saved by the Lord of the Seas, and with her husband Eärendil the Mariner brought the Jewel into the West, and sought and received the aid of the Powers against the Enemy.”
“And what has this to do with our visitor?”
“He is Maglor, the last son of Fëanor. For his crimes he is barred from returning to the Blessed Realm; but he appears to be attempting it.”
“He seemed to think he had a sign from the Powers that it might be permitted.”
“The Fëanorians are liars, thieves, and murderers all. I trust him no more than I would an orc. While he is here, we keep a watch through the night. Keep an eye on him - and keep an eye on the boat!”
*****
Legolas took the first watch, and woke Gimli at three in the morning. Maglor did not appear to have moved all night, nor was he sleeping; he remained seated silently, gazing out to sea. After an hour of boredom - he might as well have been watching a statue - Gimli approached the elf and sat down beside him. At the least, it seemed right for him to have a chance to speak for himself.
Gimli gave a small bow before seating himself. “Gimli son of Gloin, of Erebor and Aglarond.”
“Maglor Fëanorian. But your companion has told you that, and more.”
“Do you dispute any of it?”
The elf gave a faint shudder. “No.”
Maglor seemed thin, even for an elf, and wearier than any elf Gimli had ever seen. “Have you eaten?”
“A few fish, on the journey north.”
“Did you eat yesterday?”
“No.”
Gimli left him briefly to rummage through a pack at the camp. Lembas, a final gift from Queen Arwen of Gondor before her departure. He brought back a wafer with a mug of water and handed it to the elf. Maglor ate it slowly and with difficulty, as though it were cram rather than the much more savoury bread of the elves.
While Maglor ate, Gimli pondered, and fragments of old lays and legends came together in his mind, forming connections and the beginnings of an idea for taking the measure of this uncommunicative stranger.
"Do you know the tale of the Quest of Erebor?"
Maglor shook his head, still chewing.
Gimli told the tale, not as it was told on days of festival or winter gatherings in Dale and Erebor - dwarves did not criticize their kings lightly, or to outsiders - but as it was told by dwarven elders to youths, when they were old enough to think and consider and understand. He told of Thorin's quest, for vengeance and for the treasure and kingdom of his forefathers; told of danger and daring and victory, of wrath and pride and dragon-sickness, of loss and of sorrow and renewal. And all the while he watched Maglor's expression closely.
He could read nothing clearly from the elf's face, though midway through the story he began tapping one finger lightly, as though keeping time with the rhythm of Gimli's account. They sat in silence for a time once the story was ended, Maglor staring abstractedly into the distance, until at last he said, "I envy your king." His weariness seemed only to increase. "He fought with valour, and died at peace and in honour. It is more than many achieve."
The elf reached for a mug of water, but his hand passed right through it. He tried again, and the same happened. On the third attempt, he managed to pick it up in a solid hand.
Gimli shivered. This was too wraith-like for his liking. “Are you some manner of ghost or spirit?”
“Not yet.” Gimli gave him a questioning glance. “Given enough time, the spirit wears through the body. I am nearly there. If I remain much longer in Middle-earth, form will fade away; I will hear and see, but not taste or smell or touch; live in the world, but not act upon it.”
Gimli could scarcely think of a worse fate than being alive but unable to touch, to shape, to craft, to work. He was glad Mahal had had the wisdom to grant his people mortality.
The question had drawn Maglor's attention back to the journey before them. "I am sure you have more right to the journey than me, but may I ask how you come to be travelling to Valinor? I had not heard that mortals were permitted."
"There have been a few exceptions. I am not one of them, and cannot say I have been invited, as such. But Legolas is my dearest friend; the sea calls him, and I will not leave him, not so long as I have life. And even if mortals die swifter in Farthest West, as some say, still it would be worth many years of life to see the Lady Galadriel again."
Maglor started at the name. "You know her?"
"Aye; and count it one of the greatest fortunes of my life that have had the chance. Fairest and kindest and wisest of all whom I have known, with a dwarf's love for beauty and craftsmanship. Greatness without pride, and power without corruption. She cast down Dol Guldur in the war, where the old king Thrain was murdered; I wish I could have been there to see it!"
"Did she!" For the first time a smile flickered around Maglor's mouth. "She would have enjoyed that. I am glad one of us had victories, in the end."
"You know her?"
"Cousin Altáriel? We were never close. It has been long ages since I last saw her. But there is something to be said for shared exile, of a sort; the two in Middle-earth, since the Great War. I had not known she had been permitted to return. That is hopeful, at least; though our cases cannot be said to be alike."
Gimli's head was swimming. "Cousin?"
"Well - after a fashion. You have heard of my father," - with a rueful look - "and his half-brother, Galadriel's father, is king of the Noldor in the Blessed Realm."
It was exceedingly strange to think of the Lady as the child of someone still living, much less as the child of a king rather than a ruler in her own right. Gimli forced his thoughts back to relevant questions.
"You swore an oath to regain the Jewels. That Jewel, by the old legends." He gestured at the greying horizon. "Do you still intend to pursue it, if you return to Valinor?"
"I cannot." The elf's eyes went to his blighted hand. "I could not hold it, if I did. Nor would I seek to. I have lost all right to it. Let those that hold it keep it." His voice sank below a whisper. "As weregild, at least."
*****
"You spoke to him?" Legolas asked incredulously.
"You never forbade me to do so."
"I told you that he was dangerous! I told you that he could not be trusted! I would think the implication was obvious!"
"Well, whatever he was in the past, I cannot think he is dangerous now. He is old, and he is tired, and and he is sorry."
"And you can understand him this well from one night's conversation! When you had not even heard of him before yesterday!"
"It is more than I would have understood otherwise. Why are you so afraid of me speaking to him? Or hearing and seeing some account of him other than your own? You did not mention that he was close kin to the Lady Galadriel!"
"If you think she would wish to see him again, you are mistaken. Very much the reverse. The people he murdered were her kinsfolk as well as mine. And if you would trust him over me so readily, that should give reason enough for why it is perilous to speak with him unwarily. Do you remember what Gandalf said to us of Saruman at Orthanc? Beware his voice. Not all power is in weapons."
"He is an elf like you, not a wizard - "
"He is not like me. In powers I am no more like him than the innkeeper in Bree is like Aragorn - or rather, like Ar-Pharazon! The elves of the First Age had strange powers, and yes, some of them were equal or greater in power than the wizards we have known. You will remember that Felagund himself fought alone against Sauron. This elf is known about all for the power of his music and his voice, and I have no wish to test it!"
"I assure you that I am not enchanted! It is not as though Saruman had any effect on me, beyond annoyance at his lies. Even if you were right about him, why would Maglor be any different?"
"Saruman was seeking to daunt us; and you are too brave and too stubborn for that. But he got to Fangorn in the end, and Fangorn is no fool; and convinced him not through threats or temptations, but through pity. The kinslayer knows he has nothing to offer you or threaten you with, but if he can play upon compassion and seek to drive you to distrust me - "
"He did not. He denied nothing that you said, and he did not mention Galadriel until I had done so. Is it so impossible that he is sincere?"
"You do not understand the Fëanorians. Even grief and regret can be deceptive. Of all Maglor's works, the most famed is the one he wrote of the First Kinslaying, a song of sorrow and regrets. It did not hold him back from slaying kin a second time, or a third, or making war against the Valar themselves. So his protestations of regret can mean little now. Whether he is dissembling, or whether he means them truly, they have never stopped him before."
"He is dying. Or what passes for it among elves. Can you ask me to go to the West and tell the Lady Galadriel that I abandoned her kinsman to die?"
"He has more than earned it."
"So had Gollum. So had Saruman, when Gandalf and the Lady Galadriel both offered him mercy. Legolas, you say you fear I am bewitched, but it is you who do not sound like yourself. You hate him so bitterly, you would leave him to die, for deed committed ten generations or more before my grandsires, in a past so distant it is scarcely memory?"
Legolas went taut, and his eyes flashed with rage. "The memories of mortals are short! His deeds live in the memory of my father, and my mother, and their fathers and mothers, who dwelt in Doriath when he attacked it and lost friends and family and home to his and his brothers' blades! No one is asking you to show pity for Azog! No one is asking you to invite Smaug into your family's home and last refuge!"
The words hit Gimli as a blow. He had to admit that he would never have spoken to another dwarf as he had spoken to Legolas. Dwarves had fought long and bitter wars over the death of their kings; not only against Smaug, but against the Orcs of Khazad-dûm and the cold-drakes of the north. And though Dúrin’s folk had never warred among themselves, other dwarven lineages had had long and bitter clan-wars over generations. If he had tried to tell another dwarf it was his duty save a bitter personal enemy, when there was blood between them, the conversation would quickly have come to ax-blows.
His opinion of the aged elf had not altered, and he had no wish to leave him behind; but it was not Gimli’s choice to make.
“You are right. I cannot understand what he has done to your people, and to your family. I have no quarrel with him, and so I have have not the right to pardon him. You are my friend; I trust your judgement and your wisdom; and the choice rightfully belongs to you. Whatever you choose, I will go with you.”
*****
Legolas spent the afternoon in thought.
What were his reasons for refusing passage to Maglor? Certainly, Legolas hated the elf, but that alone was merely a sentiment, not a reason to condemn another person to death.
He is a murderer, and a threat, and his pretences to remorse cannot be trusted. He has killed, and repented; and killed, and repented; and killed, and repented; and so his repentance is meaningless. Should we bring danger and evil again into the one place in Eä free of it?
Even if all that was true, Maglor was only one elf. Could he reasonably be said to pose a danger to the Powers? If they considered him a threat, was there anything to stop them taking him prisoner immediately upon arrival? Even among the elves, Galadriel by herself was at least his equal, and there were likely others in the Blessed Realm as powerful as she or more so.
That argument, then, was weak.
He is barred from the Blessed Realm. He has chosen his own fate, and his own doom, and the scars on his hand proclaim it plainly. He cannot enter; and if we attempt to bring him, we may never find the path, or even be destroyed as the Númenoreans were when they defied the Powers’ judgements.
This argument was stronger. The judgement was not Legolas’, but that of the Valar, and one that Maglor had fully earned. Even the attempt to bring Gimli, a mortal and not a ring-bearer, depended on the Valars’ leniency; why try their patience further, for one to whom he owed nothing?
But did he know that Maglor was forbidden to return? Maglor felt he had been given a sign.
Maglor has proved time and time again that he cannot not be trusted. He might easily be lying, or deceiving himself.
But if he was not...
If he was not, Legolas was choosing to judge where the Valar had granted mercy.
There was no way to know. Either choice could be in error: to pardon where they had judged, or to judge where they had pardoned.
Legolas was not Galadriel, or one of the Elves of old. He had not spoken with the Valar; he knew of them only through distant and hazy legends.
And through their emissary. Mithrandir, who had urged pity for Gollum, pity that had saved them all. Who had offered mercy to Saruman, a traitor and orc-breeder far worse than Maglor. There could be little doubt what Mithrandir would have chosen.
And if there was risk to the choice, to Legolas and Gimli themselves, what of that? To abandon him to death for the sake of guarding their own lives was fear masquerading as justice.
It was cowardice.
So the second argument, too, failed.
But were either of these the true reason for Legolas’ refusal?
I am returning to Elvenhome, to all the generations of elves since the world began. I am returning to my kin, and perhaps my ancestors, and to all the people of Doriath. I cannot do so in the company of Maglor Fëanorian and a dwarf!
Legolas would be living among the elves of Eressëa and Aman, for the rest of his life. If he did this, he would alienate them from the start, and destroy the chances of his people ever accepting Gimli. It could scarcely offend more if it had been calculated to do so; it could not appear but as a deliberate insult, to arrive with the greatest enemies of Doriath by his side.
They were not the same. They had nothing in common. There was no more reason for anyone to blame Gimli for the actions of other dwarves two Ages ago than there was to blame Legolas for the deeds of Fëanor. But the appearance of the thing could not help but have an effect; could not help but drawn connections; could not help but estrange him and Gimli alike from Legolas’ home and kin.
That was the true reason in his heart.
And acknowledged, it sounded ugly. Was he truly willing to condemn a person to death, or worse, merely to protect his own reputation? If he was too timid to bear disapproval or hostility for Maglor’s sake, would he also be too timid to bear it on Gimli’s account?
It was unacceptable.
*****
In the evening, he spoke with Maglor.
“How can I have any assurance that you will not again bring violence to the Blessed Realm? If your oath still binds you, are you not a danger? And if it can be broken, what possible excuse could you give for not breaking it far sooner?”
Maglor answered the question as if he had been expecting it, but unsteadily, wavering from meeting Legolas’ eyes, to closing his own, to looking away at the sand or the sea. “We swore to pursue the Jewels, and we swore ourselves to the Darkness if we kept it not, and in keeping it we more than earned the Darkness. If I am condemned, I am condemned; more in the keeping than in the breaking; but I will pursue it no longer.”
“Why do you seek to return now, after so long? If you wished to seek pardon, surely there were others you could have asked, far earlier - at Mithlond, or at Imladris -”
Maglor gave a sharp shake of his head.
“You may as well call it cowardice, on both counts. I stayed away for long ages, for fear and for shame, of seeing any that I had known or letting them see what I had made of myself. I think I would have preferred death to mercy, but for fear, being in no hurry to meet the Darkness. And so I waited, and waited, and now I am out of time, and fear fading more than death or judgement. I cannot stay here, forever, to the end of the world, without any hope of asking mercy, without any chance of saying that I am sorry -”
“What do you expect, if you do return?”
“I do not know. I scarcely care. Let the Valar do with me as they will.”
It was difficult to disagree with Gimli’s reading of the old elf. More than anything, he seemed unutterably weary.
He is not harmless. He has killed hundreds, by his sword; thousands, by his commands.
And he is willing to answer for it.
And Legolas’ decision had, really, already been made.
“Come with us, then. We depart in the morning.”
Author’s Notes
I wrote this in a very fragmentary manner and I can’t say I’m entirely happy with it. But it’s going to nag at my mind until I post it, so it’s going up in its current state.
There are two main reasons I wanted to write this.
First, I wanted Maglor to be able to return to Valinor, and I felt it important that he be held answerable for his actions by someone affected by them. It’s something he chose not to do during all his years of exile - he could have turned himself in, to Círdan, to Thranduil, to Celeborn and Galadriel, and he didn’t, and by this point there are very few people left who would qualify. Legolas didn’t directly experience the Kinslayings, but his father and grandfather were Doriathrin so there’s a definite connection nonetheless. I think that Gimli’s conclusion, that Gimli has no right to grant mercy to Maglor because he has no grievance against him, is correct; pardon needs to be given by the wronged, or by someone with authority to judge.
Second, Legolas is, of all the Fellowship, the one who never faces any real trials and temptations during The Lord of the Rings. (Even Gimli has to vie with his terror of the Paths of the Dead.) The Ring is no temptation to him - he has no desire for power or glory or greatness. Neither battle nor the spirits of the Dead nor the road to Mordor seem to daunt him. So I wanted to create a story where he has to face temptation and overcome it and do a certain amount of soul-searching. And, as is the case with many people who haven’t had to face great trials, the strongest temptation is towards condemnation of those who have faced temptation and have failed.
So I’ve tried to balance those two somewhat conflicting ideas, the legitimacy of judgement and the moral necessity of mercy.
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