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rogerslovesstark · 3 years

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No More Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader, Sharon x fem!reader [platonic, for now ;)]

Word Count: 2,020

WARNING: ANGST, mean Steve, Sharon being a sweetheart because she is portrayed negatively, I've done it but girls support girls!

“Steve, where are you going?” You ask quietly, scared of his response because it seemed that he was always on the verge of exploding when you spoke to him. You felt like you were walking around eggshells whenever you were around him.

Ever since he came back from Bolivia, he was constantly angry when he was around you. You noticed something was off when the night he came back, you tried to give him a massage and he jerked himself away from you. That was two months ago, and he was away for almost three months.

You wrote it off as him being tired and annoyed from the almost failed mission. However, as days continued, Steve kept keeping a cold shoulder to you. Avoiding you in the tower, skipping on date nights saying that he had mission reports to file, sleeping in the tower instead of coming home.

It was almost like he didn’t love you anymore.

Steve saw you approaching him in the tower, he also noticed that there was no way of avoiding you without causing a scene. So he just let you come to him, the new trainees in awe of the two superheroes who were supposedly madly in love with one another.

You beamed at your boyfriend, he had just come back from Bolivia a few days ago and you hadn’t had the chance to speak with him properly, Steve was constantly swarmed in paperwork because of the operation.

You knew that he was stressed when he didn’t want to have sex after his mission, but you also didn’t want to force it on him. It was odd that you wouldn’t want to have sex after two months away from your girlfriend, only having jerked off while on the trip. You had doubts that Steve remained loyal to you during the mission but you hid them deep in yourself because you didn’t want to doubt the loyalty of Steve.

Steve faked a smile when he saw you walk over to him, just to keep appearances with everyone around them. He hugged you loosely and quickly pulled away, not making many conversations with you and then excusing himself claiming he needed to speak with Fury about something important.

You stood in the hallway, visibly upset that your lover wouldn’t spend five minutes with you.

You were starved of basic affection from your boyfriend. You didn’t even know what you did wrong.

Steve was on his way out the door when he heard you ask him where he was going. Just hearing you ask him where he was going angered him so much. You were acting like his mother all the time, so needy and annoying.

“Out Y/n, why? Do you need anything?” He asked trying not to blow a fuse, his temper was so short with you.

“Can we please talk before you go?” You asked him, you needed validation and affection so badly that you were itching just to have him hold you again.

Steve huffed and dropped his keys on the side table and walked towards you, sitting on the couch near you, just not touching you.

“Are you angry at me Steve?” You asked him, desperate for an answer. You just wanted your boyfriend to kiss you the way he used to.

“No, Y/n.” He answered shortly, temper slowly rising, he was getting annoyed by you already and you hadn’t even said more than 20 words to him yet.

“Are you sure? You can tell me if I did something wrong, it won’t hurt my feelings,” You said reaching to hold his hand, in need of some sort of affection. Even if it was just holding his large hand.

“Y/n enough, stop acting like a child, okay?” He shouted, pulling his hand away quickly when he realized that you were going to touch him. “Y/n I need to tell you something, don’t interrupt me okay, I don’t love you anymore, I don’t what happens but I just don’t love you anymore,” Steve said, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders.

You sat on the couch stunned, absolutely stunned by what your boyfriend had just said. He didn’t love you anymore? What does that even mean? How do you just stop loving someone? You were processing 10 different emotions at once. The one you felt most was pain, so much pain that you couldn’t even cry because of how much it hurt.

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, you just stared at him in shock. You didn’t know what to say, you just sat on the couch, feeling like an outlier in your own home.

Steve just stared at you, seeing you process what he had just said. He didn’t know how you would take it, but it seemed like you were taking it pretty well. He didn’t say anything else to you, he just grabbed his keys and shut the door behind him. Sam and Bucky were waiting for him at the bar, it was boys night and he was finally free from the leash of your relationship.

+++

You quickly grabbed your things from your side of the closet. You still didn’t feel the urge to cry about this relationship. Maybe because you already knew it was over subconsciously. Why cry over something that you were kind of expecting.

You left his apartment an hour after Steve had left, with your two suitcases and a large bag filled to the brim in tow, you walked to the tower. It was a far walk, from Brooklyn to Mid-town Manhattan. You received so many strange looks because what kind of crazy person didn’t just call an Uber with all that stuff.

It took you over an hour to reach the tower. You took the elevator up to your floor, constantly asking FRIDAY for updates of where everyone is inside the tower. Once you reached your floor, you requested FRIDAY to lock your floor to everyone until further notice, ban Steve from entering your floor, and disable people from requesting your location within the tower.

You placed all of your things inside your room, not having enough energy to put any of your things away. You walked over to your bathroom and started the shower, the heat as high as it would go.

You stood under the stream of burning water, you tried to avoid thinking of the situation. You still didn’t feel like crying, just the feeling of being numb and cold. You were probably cold because your insane ass walked from Brooklyn to Manhattan in a thin shirt and jeans.

You turned the water off and changed into a teeshirt, crawling into your bed and requesting FRIDAY to close the curtains and not to open them until you were out of bed, whenever you awoke the next morning.

You laid in the darkness looking up at the ceiling, torturing yourself with the words Steve had said to you. Constantly replaying them inside your mind, hoping that he was lying, hoping that when you woke up the next morning that he would be laying next to you, holding you to his chest.

As you replayed the words in your head, you finally felt the tears coming on. You sobbed softly thinking of your failed relationship, thinking of what you did wrong.

You finally fell asleep, cheeks wet from all the tears. Sleeping a dreamless sleep.

+++

Steve was drinking the mead Bucky had on hand, a welcome gift from Thor. They were in some club on the lower west side. Some blonde woman was sitting in his lap, talking about something Steve didn’t even care about. All he wanted to do was to sleep with her and kick her out.

He didn’t care for anything at the moment, not when she had died at the cost of his stupidity.

Janet, an inter who Fury had placed on the mission in Bolivia because he believed that she was ready to take on the mission with the supervision of Steve.

The first two weeks of the mission was filled with the sexual tension between the two. It happened after dinner had ended and Steve and Janet were buzzed, Steve had walked her back to her hotel room. She kissed Steve, and they ended up entangled in her sheets, any thoughts of you were completely forgotten by Steve. The night ended with the best sex of Steve’s night.

Once he woke up, he noticed that Janet was laying on his chest naked, and he was also naked. Steve had no regrets, he didn’t feel any remorse that he had cheated on you. So he continued the relationship with Janet, claiming that he didn’t love you anymore, that Janet made him feel something that you never made him feel.

The night before they were meant to leave, Janet went to the local supermarket to get some wine and cheese for the two, to celebrate their relationship. Only to be shot and killed before she could even make it to the store.

Steve was devastated that Janet had been killed, he mourned her death so painful. Steve genuinely believed that Janet was the love of his life.

Steve began getting annoyed of the blonde woman in his lap just chattering away, so he kissed her quiet, and took her back to her place, tidy and small. He would expect nothing more from a young woman working in some low-paying field, she had mentioned it but Steve was too caught up in his thoughts about Janet to even care about what she was saying.

As soon as Steve finished, he got up and left. He finally made it to his apartment, expecting you to be in the bedroom, but you weren’t here. Good, it's better that way, you were so unbelievably annoying that he could barely stand to be around you.

He climbed into his bed, the sheets still smelled like your shampoo. He had to wash the sheets as soon as possible, whenever he found the time.

+++

You had been in a dark place for the last 3 weeks, you had begged Fury to not place you on any mission, you explained the situation to him, with him being infuriated, almost going to the length of finding Steve and shooting him in the leg.

You realized that you were in such a depressive state and hadn’t been taking care of yourself. In 3 weeks, you had barely eaten, showered, or spoken to anyone.

You forced yourself to get up, shower, eat a proper meal, and go for a run. The amount of energy it took to even complete those tasks was so unbelievably exhausting that you only wanted to lay in bed all day and read.

You ended up calling Sharon, asking her to come to see you and hang out to take your mind off the hurt you were going through. You and she were friends, meeting each other during the SHIELD initiative. Sharon was always so kind to you, you could sense her attraction to your boyfriend but then again who would be. Well, ex-boyfriend.

You cried your heart out to Sharon, laying in your bed with her, while she stroked the back of your head trying to soothe you, you ended up asleep in her arms. You woke up to a clean room, and Sharon wasn’t in your bed. She was in your kitchen making something to eat you were guessing.

“Hey N/n, you need to eat some dinner, I’m making spicy penne al vodka, it’s almost ready,” Sharon said while stirring the pot she was using. You took a seat at the counter, waiting to be served by your friend. You stared out the window, just wondering what Steve was doing right now.

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, hello,” Sharon waved her hand in your face. She was confused as to why you kept daydreaming, he left you, you should move on because he was a piece of shit anyways.

“I’m not hungry Shar, I ate earlier, I’ll just eat later,” You said while staring out the window.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #Steven Rogers #Steven Grant Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america angst #captain rogers x reader #captain rogers angst #sharon carter #sharon carter x reader

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willadisastercry · 3 years

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Lance ignores his asthma and Coran is not willing to be an accomplice pt. 2

It’s a race against the clock as Lance’s lungs worsen and his team scrambles to come up with a remedy before it’s too late. And though this whole mess certainly could’ve been avoided had he been upfront about his situation to begin with, his team will have to save the scolding for when Lance can focus on something other than the pain of trying to force air into his rapidly constricting airways. Altean technology works fast, but what if fast isn’t fast enough?

Part 1 / Part 2

“D’you check these yet?” Hunk asked as he threw open the topmost drawer of the in-wall storage space in Lance’s cabin.

“No, and it’s not in here either... I don’t understand wh—shit!” Keith cursed as he knocked over the trash can beside Lance’s nightstand and began scooping the contents back up.

“I don’t know where it could possibly be if—“

“—found it...” Keith interrupted as he held up the inhaler that had fallen out with the rest of the trash.

“Did you just get that from the... don’t you dare tell me it’s... oh, quiznak!”

“We’ve gotta tell Shiro...”

Keith was scared that Hunk would actually cry with the way his body tensed and his eyes glossed over.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Coran will know what to do,” Keith offered as he forwent cleaning up the rest of the mess he made for the sake of time.

“Bring that with you, maybe it can help him figure something out,” Hunk said after a second of staring blankly before he turned on his heel and joined Keith in a mad dash back to the training deck.

When they finally made it back they wished they’d never left.

Lance was collapsed onto his forearms with a very distraught Shiro rubbing circles on his back as he struggled to take in heaving breaths. He hadn’t even realized they’d returned until Shiro spoke up.

“Thank god you guys are back, just toss it—”

“It’s empty, this was his last inhaler...” Keith offered for the look of utter despair on Shiro’s face as Hunk sunk down next to them and placed one hand beside Shiro’s on his back and wrapped the other around Lance’s, receiving a weak squeeze in thanks for the small comfort.

“You’re gonna be fine dude... Coran and Allura are going to help, they can fix this. Just keep breathing as deep as you can,” he repeated over and over as Lance’s chest continued to hitch, the wheezes so loud and guttural now as his lungs worsened and his body grew more exhausted.

Understanding washed over Shiro all at once and then he was moving, maneuvering Lance’s struggling body despite the unwillingness of his lax limbs.

He was too exhausted to do much of anything aside from keep his chest rising and follow whatever direction his pliant frame was guided, letting himself be pushed back onto his heels as hands clasped his forearms and settled on his back to keep him from tipping over.

Every muscle in his abdomen was screaming. A similar tension burning up his neck and seeping into the sinews between his shoulder blades that made his head feel way too heavy to sit atop his shoulders. After not even thirty ticks of trying to summon the strength to keep it up he let it hang forward, the hands on him tightening their grips when he did.

He was extremely grateful they couldn’t see his face anymore because tears were beginning to form quicker than they could fall and he was sure he would have been fully sobbing at that point if he’d had any energy to spare.

“We’re meeting everyone at the infirmary then, you guys run ahead and let Coran know,” Shiro ordered as he motioned for Hunk to take hold of Lance while he turned away and crouched.

With some help he rose on shaking legs, Keith rushing to support his other side when his oxygen deprived legs protested the action.

“Woah, we’ve got you... thanks Keith...”

Their hands under his armpits kept him standing long enough to collapse onto Shiro’s back.

He literally only had the energy after that to throw his arms over Shiro’s shoulders and nestle his chin securely in the space between his own bicep and Shiro’s neck before his body sagged against his leader like dead weight.

“Go! I’m right behind you,” he shouted, his voice dark and fearful.

He could feel Lance straining against him as he followed after them, could hear the way his congested airways sputtered each time he tried to breathe.

Shiro made his way with steady urgency, not exactly jogging but not walking either, the anxiety bubbling in his stomach only forcing his legs to pump quicker as Lance got worse.

Keith and Hunk made it to the medbaby in record time though, both boys panting after sputtering to a halt once they made it through the whooshing doors.

The paladins knew today’s workout would be a doozy, but none of them expected to be doing this much running, especially under these circumstances.

Pidge was on the floor sorting through boxes of medicine and supplies carrying on an in-depth conversation regarding the compositional makeup of altean pharmaceuticals with Coran and Allura.

“Hey guys—wait why do you have...?”

“Empty...”

Keith answered a bit breathlessly as he waved the tube of navy and teal plastic in the air before gesturing to toss it to Coran who nodded and raised his hands in anticipation.

“...figured you’d want to take a look at the ingredients or whatever before Shiro got here with him.”

The air in the room seemed to thin as worry descended upon everyone.

“Christ, Lance!” Pidge exclaimed and sat back on her heels.

“Yeah, he’s not doing too hot,” Hunk said as he joined them, stealing the box of tubes and gadgets from Pidge to rifle through it himself.

Coran’s frown somehow deepened and Allura looked increasingly more distraught as he began filling them in.

“What level of dangerous is his breathing at?” Pidge asked hesitantly, like she didn’t want to hear the answer.

“He’s panicking and already really exhausted, so pretty dangerous. It’s one of the worst attacks I think he’s had in a while...”

Allura worried at her lip and kept glancing between the jumble of medical supplies and the medbay doors while she worked absently to ready a bed, the mice smoothing out wrinkles in the sheets and pulling down corners for her.

“Well, it was smart of number four to think of bringing this. I am synthesizing several medicines in likeness but none of them are exactly complete yet—”

“That’s—fuck, that’s not gonna be good enough...”

Everyone stilled at Hunk’s harsh interruption, his hands shaking in loose fists at his sides while he stared fixedly at the boxes of miscellaneous medical equipment in front of him.

“Lance can’t breathe, he can’t just wait for something to finish synthesizing, he might not be breathing at all when it’s done!”

Pidge scooted across the floor and laid her tiny hands on top of Hunk’s trembling ones.

“I think what Hunk means to say is that Lance’s condition is, erm, kinda dire and requires something that works as fast as possible.”

“Hmmm, I see. That is why the blue wilgam bark salve is strictly for prevention... this is indeed a rather tricky—ah, though I suppose I can try to extract and aerosolize whatever might remain of his earth remedy for a temporary solution,” Coran noted as he braved his stern concentration face and began separating the metal canister from the outer plastic to compare the words on it to the words on the bottles of medicine in front of him.

“And we can always place him in a pod for however long it takes to create an accurate remedy... he is truly in the best hands Hunk, do not fret so much,” Allura finished with a tight smile that was warm and assuring all the same.

It was strange how well she could do that, squash so much worry with such a simple act.

Coran hurried over to a station with lots of tools and canisters and turned on several machines that made various clicking and whirring noises.

Keith’s nose wrinkled at the new sounds but he couldn’t find it in him to feel angry about it. Not when they were going to help Lance when was in such bad shape.

“Okay, okay... those are good ideas,” Hunk agreed with a gasp, he hadn’t realized he’d been withholding air as he lost himself in his panic.

“Deep breaths, big guy,” Pidge urged, the weight of her hands bringing him back down from the brink of panic as his mind raced.

“Yeah, don’t forget that you’re the one who can actually breathe,” Keith chided gently with a hesitant hand on Hunk’s shoulder.

“Right... sorry. It’s just that these can get ugly really quick if—“

The doors whooshed open with an unsettling burst of air as Shiro emerged and crossed the room in a matter of seconds, a flurry of concerned exclamations filling the silence in between pauses of commotion that should have been hurried gasps for air.

But weren’t.

There wasn’t time to make sense of the lack of color in Lance’s face or the absence of movement in his chest as Shiro slid him off of his back, human hand trembling as he moved to support his middle and the base of his neck as he lowered his lifeless body onto the bed.

It was a grim enough sight to have even Allura’s mice crying out.

“Lance!”

“Holy fuck...”

Pidge was acting on autopilot as she pinched the altean breathing mask Coran had pulled out over the bridge of his nose and cupped it under his chin to secure the seal, Keith moving in eerie similarity to connect the tubing and flip the right switches on the machine when it became apparent that Hunk wouldn’t be spurred from his horror any time soon.

It wasn’t prepped because they hadn’t realized they’d be needing it so soon.

“No... nonononono—“

They aren’t sure how they heard it through the muddle of commotion and devastating silence but it stopped them all in their tracks, the faintest whisper of air passing his lips.

His very blue lips, go figure.

“He’s breathing, Hunk. Just barely, though...”

Lance’s eyes were open still and staring at nothing as his neck strained for air that was there now but still not accessible with how severely inflamed his lungs had become, the only sounds leaving his lips at all just rapid exhales where he couldn’t expel enough before his aching lungs screamed for more of what the mask was providing

“It doesn’t look like it’s helping...” Hunk all but sobbed as he gripped the base board of the bed so tightly his fingers blanched.

Lance’s eyes bobbed at that, struggling to locate who out of his friends was distressed through the tears welling at their brims.

They were puffy and bloodshot as silent tears spilled in a continuous stream, his eyebrows drawn together with pain and desperation.

“That’s because it’s not,” Shiro deadpanned, his hands working to soothe over Lance’s stuttering chest as his rasping breaths caught in his throat on their way out.

“Wh-how is it not working... it’s oxygen?!”

It was almost pitiful how helpless Keith looked as he stated the very blatant fact, his expression sharp and his tone prickly, like he didn’t know who or what to be mad at.

“His airways,” Pidge started weakly, her voice wavering, “they must be too tight for the air to get through...”

Shiro’s hand gripped Lance’s fiercely. It was ice cold.

The gravity of the situation dawned on his friends like a literal blow then, all eyes turning to Allura.

“Coran... he-he’s working on something, but...”

It wasn’t often that the paladins saw the princess hesitate. Her usual order of proceeding during a crisis was to do something brave or noble first and think about it later, but her impulse instinct was uncharacteristically absent as she stared at Lance’s greying face.

Her hands rose slowly, long fingers uncurling from where they’d been pressed tightly in her palms to reveal a subtle pink glow.

“Princess...”

“I know, Shiro... it’s just—I am scared it might cause him greater discomfort...”

“I don’t think we have time to worry about that, Allura,” Keith noted gravely from the foot of the bed where Lance’s eyes were half focused and darting between him and Hunk.

A status update from Coran made the tension in the room skyrocket further as he estimated another twenty or so dobashes before anything was viable.

It only took one more particularly worrisome sound of distress from Lance for Allura’s hands to descend on his chest with certainty, the pink furls leaving her fingers and settling on his body for not even a second before his back arched off the bed with a strangled gasp.

Allura grimaced as she called upon several energy reserves to ease the vice constricting Lance’s lungs as fast as she could.

A phantom tightness bloomed in her own chest as she visualized the pressure leaving his while she forced each passage back open, the channel she had opened between them by using her powers allowing her to feel the gridlock for herself.

She didn’t let up until Lance was sinking back into the pile of pillows and by then she was so lightheaded that her vision was spotting, but Keith was at her side and gripping her elbow securely before she could even stumble when the strength in her legs wavered.

“I am quite alright, just feeling a bit weak.”

“Are you sure? Why don’t you take a seat for a few anyway?”

Lance couldn’t really make sense of the conversations going on around him while he collected himself after being released from the pulls of Allura’s magic.

“It’ll pass, Keith.”

“Allura...”

Not that he was known for having stellar listening skills, but he was just usually able to follow along with the general flow of things even when otherwise preoccupied.

“Coran you said only eighteen minutes, right?”

The voices of his friends filtered back in slowly though, his skull throbbing still after the horrible pressure had lifted.

“Can you lift his head for a sec so I can secure the strap?”

He hadn’t been coherent of much of anything before, fixing what remained of his energy on the miserable stalemate in his chest.

“It’s only seventeen dobashes and forty three tics now...”

And then the twisted relief of Allura’s magic.

But after that his hearing seemed to flatline, zeroing in on a high pitched hiss that was either static or the oxygen flow of which droned on and dribbled into his present when the tension that had yanked every muscle in his body taught alleviated all at once.

It was so disorientating it almost nauseated him and brought a distinct rush of blood to his eardrums, the oxygen flooding his deprived bloodstream like a dam had broken and left him feeling utterly weightless.

Shiro was the first one to break through the barrier of cotton that muffled his brain.

“Easy, Lance,” he instructed when he didn’t start breathing normally right sway, too stunned by the sudden levity to remember how.

“Take it slow hermano, you’re okay now...”

Everything was still uncomfortably tight and restricted, but air was at least accessible even as his body struggled to acclimate to the change, his heaves greedy and crackling.

“I was able reduce the inflammation for now but there is a substantial amount of fluid that remains in his lungs.”

“Fluid? What like blood?”

“No, Keith, not blood. Phlegm.”

“Oh, gross.”

Lance let out an indignant huff at that and despite the restriction of the mask managed to return the look of disgust the mullet had given him.

“Why is that so bad if it’s just phlegm?”

“Because anything in your lungs besides air is bad, Keith. It’s your lungs!”

“Precisely, Pidge. And it will only keep irritating Lance’s but we cannot risk him progressing back to such a state before Coran has derived his medicine when my powers are not indefatigable.”

“Yep...” Lance winced.

In order to speak he had to battle against the congestion in his chest which made his already wrecked voice sound downright abrasive.

“Shhh, no talking!” Pidge hissed with a warning glare.

But when was Lance ever known to take good advice when it’s given?

“Think... I can feel th’fluid... s’not very—“

He didn’t have to elaborate any more than that to get his point across because the rapping of his own vocal cords against each other had him launching into a harsh fit of coughing that rocked his entire frame. The accumulated cloud of condensation in the mask never allowed to chance to dissipate fully as he hacked.

It sort of felt like he was drowning since he didn’t have the strength to get his arms underneath him while all of the crap that his stupid respiratory system produced to counteract the strain in his lungs only worked to suffocate him and his freshly reduced air passages.

“Shit someone help me get him up, it’ll be easier to breathe if he’s vertical...”

Hunk surged to grab the arm that was closest to him as Shiro slotted his own beneath Lance’s back and hefted him into what only partially passed as a sitting position. But the motion made his head spin and his stomach clench and then Hunk’s hands planted on either of his shaking shoulders to keep him from tilting over as Shiro slid behind him.

The others looked on with horror.

“You’re okay,” Shiro assured as he pulled Lance towards himself.

He was grateful for the solidity of Shiro’s chest, his hold firm enough that Lance didn’t have to work anymore to keep himself up as he slumped into it, but the tears started back up anyway when he continued to actively choke on what felt like nothing despite being upright.

But there wasn’t anything in his throat to actually choke on.

“Just gotta work through it...”

He was starting to get really tired of the exhaustion and malaise that came with being deprived of oxygen for an extended period of time.

“Paladins! Only fourteen—er, minutes remaining.”

“Hear that bud? You’re gonna be okay.”

He did hear but he’s shaking his head in the crook of Shiro’s arm where his head had lolled because he can’t wait that long. He can’t.

“Yeah, you’ll feel better real soon,” Hunk affirmed.

But Lance was verging on a hysteria that he couldn’t summon the strength to express when every muscle that can be strained in his body felt like it most definitely was. And with how acutely his ribcage ached he was also certain he’d displaced a couple of those false ribs made up of just cartilage too.

“Hey, no don’t get upset, you’re gonna be fine!”

He’s never been more exhausted in his life and he can’t communicate that he can’t wait that long because he hasn’t stopped coughing.

His eyes are burning from the amount of crying he’s done so he relies on touch alone when a hand cups his chin and turns it, deducing it must be Allura.

“Lance, can you hear me?”

A shakey jerk seems to be good enough for her.

“I know you aren’t the biggest fan of the healing pods, but I understand that you are in a great deal of distress still and I believe you have endured enough...”

“What are you—oh, yeah! We could totally just put him in stasis like you and Coran were for thousands of years and bring him out when the medicine is ready.”

“Yes, just as Pidge puts it. There is no need to extend the suffering of one of my paladins.”

Shiro set his jaw as he regarded Allura sternly, it didn’t matter what she believed if Lance didn’t agree and he knew how wary he was of returning to the pods after the harrowing experience that landed him in one for the first time.

“Is that something you want to do? It’s alright if you aren’t comf—“

“Please.”

His voice was small, hard even a rasp, but it didn’t need to be loud for Shiro to accept it as his answer.

“Okay...”

Lance checked out after that, allowing himself to save the energy it took to focus on what was happening around him.

So when he started registering Shiro’s voice in his ear he wasn’t exactly sure how both him and the respirator came to be at the foot of a cryochamber but he made a desperate noise at the realization.

“I know, bud. You’re almost there but we need to take the mask off.”

No one missed the fear that flashed across his face before it softened into resignation, or otherwise known as I don’t care, please put me in that stupid thing right now.

Shiro was still holding him and seemed to sense the urgency in it.

“I’m gonna stand up with you...”

It was so surprise when Lance’s knees hardly held any of his own weight before wobbling and giving out as Shiro stood with him still flush against his chest.

He regarded Hunk with a lazy roll through lidded eyes as he tipped his head forward and worked the strap off but held the mask in place.

Distantly aware of the burst of air from the pod opening and a renewed flurry of commotion around him, Lance tried to work with Shiro as he ushered him forward but his legs were too heavy and he couldn’t coordinate his movements well.

Someone else’s hands were on him, bending his knee so they could set one leg down in the pod and send the rest of his body with it. He thinks it might’ve been Keith.

The various sets of hands on him stay even after he’s securely in place, probably scared he would crumple if they did.

They were probably right.

“-nce. Hey, Lance? There you are, this is gonna suck but only for a second. I promise. Ready?”

You would’ve missed the brief hum from his somewhere deep in his sore chest if you weren’t practically inside the pod with him like Shiro seemed to be.

“Okay, now Hunk.”

The crackling heave that erupted from hims mouth was something a dying thing made, but he couldn’t hear himself or the horrible sound he made as consciousness began to swiftly melt away in stages.

First with the initial pressure everywhere after the removal of the mask.

And then pain because holy shit he couldn’t breathe.

But the cold creeped into his bones at light speed and the darkness wasn’t too far behind.

#lance whump #vld #voltron fandom #lance voltron #vld lance #lance mcclain #lance has asthma here #voltron whump #voltron #asthma #lance headcannon #voltron fic #voltron headcanons #voltron fanfic #voltron lance #voltron angst #hunk vld #hunk anxiety

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pastelsandpining · 3 years

Text

we’ll meet again

a rewriting to the ending of Ocarina of Time

words: 2347

warnings: angst. a lot of angst. read with caution

Masterlist

When the mangled body of the hog-like monster finally grows still, the sacred sword still hilt-deep in the crumpled corpse, Link knows then that it’s over. The years of sorrow, the loneliness of travel, everything that came with the heavy weight of pulling the world from the clutches of evil, is over. He withdraws the sword, but it takes an effort he didn’t think he had left. It’s heavier--or maybe it’s his limbs that are heavy, too exhausted to carry on any further. Adrenaline is a thing of the past and he takes two steps forward before his foot catches on a bit of loose debris. The Master Sword, his tool of time and of protection, slips to the soiled ground with a clang, and he’s following it. Part of him, the part too used to victories never meaning an end, expected the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

The only thing that wraps around him, catching him from hitting the rocky ground still levitating above the chasm of chaos, is a sea of gentle pink and purple tones. The touch is feather soft and strong enough to ground him all at once, and no longer is the world spinning, or burning in a sea of despair. It’s a comfort he hasn’t known since Saria—over seven years ago, but it feels like so much longer that he’s been craving it.

“Princess,” he greets in a hoarse, broken whisper. It’s swallowed by the fabric of her dress.

“Oh, Link,” she says, and it’s enough to make him lean his head against her chest. When her face finds his shoulder and he feels the warmth of her exhale on his neck, he chokes out a sob and digs his filthy, glove-covered fingers into the satin of the dress covering her back. He isn’t worthy of her touch or her comfort, but he’s too brokenly grateful to let her go.

Seven years of nothing and a mere two of shadow, of death and destruction and desolation, comes to an end, a result of nothing more than a man given too much power to handle, and Link does not feel the relief or the lifted weight that one would expect. All he feels is the suffocating fear that the body would move again, or that the crystal would encase her, and he would find himself stuck in a never ending cycle of heroic trauma.

But the arms of the princess are steady and she whispers another phrase, two of the simplest words that bear a heavy importance: “Thank you.”

He wonders what bit of her magic is responsible for how she still smells so good after running down several swirling cliffs and through burning, stuffy rooms. A vague realization hit him that he must smell awful, but he supposes it doesn’t matter when the world has been ending for the past nine years. His fingers are stiff when he tries to move them. He doesn't realize just how tightly he’s been holding onto her, or how hard they’re both shaking. He flattens his hands against her back, inhales her scent, loosens his arms, and relaxes his shoulders. His leg still stings from where Ganon’s blade had caught him, but it’s dull and doesn’t matter right now.

When he finds the strength to lift his head, everything around him is blue.

It’s a stark contrast to the dark skies that plagued Hyrule for months. It’s so different from the moody interior of blackstone walls and towering mirrors with grotesque mosaics of thirst and power. It’s too bright for his eyes, even if all he wants to look at is her. They’re still kneeling on the ground, except there’s nothing visible beneath them. Blue skies and cotton clouds stretch as far as he can see. The Master Sword is still there, telling him whatever’s holding them up is solid enough, and he reaches blindly for it when he finally retracts his arms. He drives the tip into the transparent (or maybe, reflective) ground and hauls himself up with a wince. It takes a minute for the spinning to stop. When he’s steady again, he extends a hand to her.

She takes it, gentle and promising, and Link helps Princess Zelda to her feet.

“Where…” he tries to ask, but her eyes soften and he no longer has a voice.

“Nowhere,” she replies. He feels her hold on his hand tighten. “We’re in a moment between time, a space away from Hyrule. I figured you, of all people, deserve an explanation.”

For all of his senseless meddling with time, he understood none of what she’d said. Thinking about it gave him a headache, so he didn’t. But why would he need an explanation?

“There’s no explanation worth saying,” he says, shaking his head.

“People go to great lengths when they have been wronged. You are one of them. I was so young, too naive to know what would happen. It was my plan that put you through so much and for that, I’m sorry.”

She looks so sad. It claws into his heart and tries to pull it out. Link shakes his head again, more desperately, and covers her hand with his.

“It’s an honor to help you, Princess,” he argues, as if he could make her forgive herself through the sheer force of will. “I would do it again and again.”

“Because you are kind and courageous. It’s in your blood, to be a hero.”

To be her hero, which was something he couldn’t say aloud.

“I feel empty,” he admits into the stretch of silence. “What happens now that it’s over?”

Because stories are not real. Stories that end with a suddenly happy life, like there was never any threat at all, never sit right with him. What’s a hero’s purpose once the villain is defeated? Princess Zelda, in all of her wisdom and power, is the only person who could answer that.

“What do you want to happen?” she asks.

Link frowns. If he’s honest, he’s never expected an ending. Logically, he knows he couldn’t go on forever. Either he would succeed or he would die trying, but it lasted for so long that the idea of a life after the war was nothing more than a fantasy. Now, with the prospect in front of him and just out of reach, he doesn’t know what he wants. He thinks of the forest, of Saria and of his friends, and knows that having it back is not an option. Even if it was, he knows it wouldn’t be the same.

He thinks about the contrast between the past and the present. He thinks about the lively people and colors and animals that once filled Castle Town to the brim, and the ghost town inhabited only by reanimated corpses that it’d become. He thinks of the civilizations he’s met—the Gorons, the Zora, and how devastated they were destined to be. He thinks of the woman in front of him, the princess with which this all started, and believes that she does not deserve to bear the burden of destruction alone.

He also doesn’t think he’s been asked that before. It’s always been, you must do this, and so he doesn’t know what it is that he wants.

“Is peace an option?” he asks, because he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to quiet the chaos in his head.

“That’s a complicated question,” Princess Zelda replies. Her hands slip from his and he aches with the urge to take them again. “Can you have peace without conflict? Are they really so easy to seperate? Hyrule was peaceful because a civil war brought about chaos. This moment in time is peaceful because you’ve laid to rest a terrible evil. I wish I could grant you what you seek.”

He wants to shrug, brush off her words like there was nothing profound or truthful behind them, but for all his courage, not even he could disrespect the princess. She does not deserve that. Instead, he asks,

“What do you want, Princess?”

Her reply comes fast, with a small and pained smile, “I’m afraid what I want isn’t something you can give me, Hero.”

He doesn’t like that title, Hero. Why can’t he be Link, nothing more, nothing less? For the same reason she can’t simply be Zelda, he supposes, and leaves it there with a frown.

“Is it that bad?” he asks. She shakes her head.

“I want, more than anything, for my people to be spared the suffering that Ganondorf-- that I have put them through. I want to undo my mistake, take back my meddling in something I was too young to understand. I want to restore everything that was, before the world ended.”

It’s a bold desire. Link understands where she’s coming from, because it was easier before the world ended. Back when his only struggle was wondering why he didn’t have a fairy like the rest of the Kokiri children. With all the power that Princess Zelda had, surely it was not impossible.

“You could go back to before,” he suggests, gripping the sword a little tighter.

“I could,” she agrees, “but I would leave so much behind.”

Link furrows his brows and takes a look at their surroundings. What would she be leaving behind? Did she not lose her entire kingdom? There must’ve been something he was missing, something he couldn’t see.

“I don’t understand,” he admits at last, turning his gaze to the Master Sword. “What’s left to lose?”

When he looks back up, Princess Zelda’s eyes are wet. He frowns again, wishing there was any sort of comfort he could offer her.

“I would lose you,” she says, and he feels his heart stop in his chest, “and the friendship we’ve built, and the lessons I’ve learned. Neither are worth giving up. It’s a difficult decision I don’t know how to make.”

Link doesn’t know what to say, so he extends a hand to her in a gesture he can only hope will provide some sort of comfort. When she takes it, he averts his eyes and busies himself looking around at what he could see of the ruined kingdom. He can’t pretend to know how she feels. Right now, he has nothing but her to keep him going. He’s outgrown his friends, his purpose has been fulfilled, what more is there for him to do? He could support Princess Zelda in whatever decision she makes, but even so, what could he do for her, really? Perhaps if there was any remnant of the kingdom that wasn’t fractured, they could rebuild, but at what cost? The expense of exhaustion and of the resources they didn’t have was too great. He knows nothing about governing, or anything else he might be required to do if he stayed with her--and gods, did he want to stay.

For her, he doesn’t think it’s much of a sacrifice at all. A kingdom of thousands of people is worth more than one lowly man. He does not know how to read. It was a silly thing, to be as old as him and not know how to do one of the simplest things. Navi’s done it for him for as long as she’s been around, and he doesn’t think someone who can’t read or write would make for a good companion in a time of need. He can be taught, but the time it would take simply wasn’t worth it.

He brings her gloved hand to his mouth, offers a kiss to her knuckles, and before he knows it, he’s pressing the Ocarina of Time into her hands.

“Your kingdom,” he says, “it needs you.”

“Link,” and she shakes her head and sounds broken but he presses further.

“You’re brilliant and just, and you deserve your fair reign over your people. Please, Princess, you deserve something for yourself.”

“Is a lifelong companion not good enough?” she asks. He feels her grip on the instrument tighten beneath his fingers.

“No. You have the chance to undo it all. Why settle with the cards you’ve been given?”

“I..”

She doesn’t look sure. Link has to admit that the idea is scary. Resetting the timeline was… difficult. It would undo everything he’s done up until now, reducing it to nothing more than a few years of bad dreams, and that idea made him feel sick. The possibility of never knowing her scared him more.

“We can get back what we lost,” he tries to convince her anyway. “You didn’t get to be a child.”

“Neither did you,” she argues, stepping closer. “Why should I get what you never had?”

“Then make it so we both get it.”

Her blue eyes narrow as she looks up at him. He doesn’t back down. The silence is pregnant and her gaze is intense, but he knows what he wants and it’s for her to get the chance she deserves. Backing down is not an option, no matter how much he wants to tell her that she can have whatever she wants from him.

“Link,” she says at last, freeing her hands so she could hold the ocarina to her chest. He thinks she wants to say something else, but she settles for, “Are you sure?” and he nods quickly, despite the tears he can feel stinging in his eyes.

“Go home,” he insists, lifting a hand to gently hold her face, “and I promise I’ll come find you.”

She smiles up at him, mumbling something about keeping the promise, and all he can do is smile back. When she lifts the ocarina to her mouth, Link decides simply to watch her until the arms of time take him back, away from her again but not for long.

When he comes to, in the Temple of Time, with the sword in the pedestal and his hands too small to hold it properly, that’s when Navi takes her leave. Link, renewed with the vigor of youth, turns around and runs towards the castle, as fast as his little legs can carry him.

#zelink #oot zelink #ocarina of time #ocarina of time zelink #my writing

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trulymadlysydney · 3 years

Text

Somewhere In Time: Eleven

“...and when one of them meets the other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment...”

― Plato, The Symposium

tw: Death

Previous Chapters HERE

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

April 25th, 2000, 12:06pm

It’s been a long, long few months for Roni.

Today is one of the first warm days New York has experienced in a while, and it’s one of the first times Roni has felt strong enough to actually leave her house without breaking down and sobbing.

Still, she’s aware she isn’t exactly at peak performance either.

Presently she finds herself at the supermarket, bare-faced and exhausted. She reaches up to rub at her eyes, which at this point burn permanently with how often she’s been crying over the past few months. She’s sure she must look a mess as she walks through the building, searching numbly for the few items her grandmother had sent her for.

Her grandmother, sweet and more than mildly concerned for Roni’s well being, had thought it would be wise for Roni to get out of the house for a bit. Over the past few months, Roni has gone on a few walks here and there, but each time she’d returned home looking more wilted and devastated than she had when she’d left. It was disconcerting, to put it lightly, but of course the older woman had comforted Roni through every minute of it.

That being said, however, she’d wanted to push Roni to make the effort to get out of this funk (or at least up and over the hump that stood before her), and although it makes Roni feel strange and disgustingly vulnerable to be out here among other people like this, she can’t say she blames her grandmother for trying.

Besides, there’s something that’s been on her mind for ages now, and she thinks today is the perfect day for it.

She has to keep reminding herself to focus on the task at hand first and foremost-- although she can’t for the life of her remember if her grandmother needs 2 percent milk or skim--, because God knows she wants this grocery store trip to be over as soon as possible.

She runs a hand through her hair, realizing dismissively that it’s a bit greasy and overdue for a wash. When was the last time she took a shower?

Ultimately, Roni decides on skim milk (she figures her grandmother will forgive her if she’s wrong) and plops it unenthusiastically into the shopping basket that hangs heavy on her arm. She scans the basket, mentally checking off everything she sees and searching her foggy brain to determine if she’s missed anything.

When she’s absolutely certain she’s gotten everything on her grandmother’s list, she takes in a deep breath, turning on her heel and walking--almost robotically-- to the next area of the store she needs to go to.

The little section of less-than-fresh flowers is located directly next to the produce section, right where it’s always been, and it’s a place that Roni has visited multiple times in her life since her mother’s passing. The task of picking out the prettiest flowers is one that Roni has never taken lightly, of course, and this time is no exception.

Because this time, she isn’t going to visit the grave of her mother. She’s going to find Harry’s.

There’s a pressure on her back mixed with a tinge of anxiety as she scans the colorful flowers in their colorful wrapping. It would be doing Harry a disservice to pick some that are anything less than perfect, but then none of these seem suitable at all.

Roses? No, too dark. Violets? Ironic, but still no.

Roni is startled out of her thoughts when she hears someone behind her clear their throat. Expecting to be asked to kindly move out of the way, she shifts quickly to the right, preparing to offer whoever this person is an apologetic smile.

But then she hears her name.

When she turns she is met by none other than Oliver and his sweet, smiling face. Her heart sinks impossibly deeper into her stomach at the sight.

“Hey!” he greets, as pleasantly as he can manage. “I thought that was you but I wasn’t sure!”

Oliver looks good, save perhaps for the dark circles under his eyes that mirror Roni’s own. He seems far more well put together than Roni for sure, and she’s almost embarrassed by her own appearance. His dark hair hangs limp on his head, and the scent of his aftershave tells Roni that he’s probably just taken a shower before heading over here. She wants to hug him, purely for selfish reasons, but she thinks maybe that isn’t the best idea right now given the circumstances.

He seems to feel the same way, because he holds his hands awkwardly at his side— as if wanting to go to her, but unsure of how to go about it.

So Roni simply smiles. “Oliver,” she greets. “It’s so good to see you!”

And she does mean that. His face is an oddly comforting sight at a time like this.

“It’s good to see you, too, Ron! How have you been?” He asks this question quietly, as if he already knows the answer, but there isn’t a single trace of judgement on his face. That was something Roni had always loved about him, in fact. He never judged. He was always a much better person than she felt she could ever hope to be.

Still, it feels like a loaded question. One that she doesn’t quite feel prepared to answer in the slightest. How does one explain to their ex boyfriend of several years that they’re doing absolutely terrible?

So she shrugs, offering him a half-hearted laugh. “I mean, I’m here.”

Oliver laughs, a sympathetic smile on his face that tells her he feels the exact same way. A wordless sentiment is shared between the two in their smiles, and he nods when she giggles. “Same,” he says. “I’ve been better but… ya know.”

And god, Roni does know.

She gestures at him. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Been working out a lot. Changed my diet a bit. Just trying to be like, you know, healthier and stuff.”

Roni nods. “That’s amazing, Oliver.”

She really does mean it. He does look great, especially compared to the last time she’d seen him. Fresh out of their breakup, running on a maximum of three hours of sleep per night, wordlessly helping Roni pack up her things into boxes and moving them, along with her grandfather, back into her grandparents house.

The first few days of the new year had been awful, to say the least. Roni had hardly spoken, hardly eaten, hardly done much at all except for cry; overwhelmed with sadness and a tinge of guilt— not only for leaving Harry, but for her sudden lack of feelings towards Oliver. And Oliver, the angel that he is, stood by her. Constantly worrying, making sure she was at least drinking enough water, and trying to coax her into telling him what was wrong.

The breakup had not gone at all the way Roni had expected. But then, when do breakups ever?

It was on the 6th day of January, when Roni found herself so completely buried in her grief that she couldn’t stop crying, even for five minutes, or bring herself to step foot out of her bed. Oliver had tried everything, and was obviously growing impatient himself. When he threw his hands up and exasperatedly told Roni he was taking her to the hospital, that’s when she’d done it. She’d blurted out that she couldn’t be with him anymore.

The look on his face was enough to shatter what little bit of her heart remained intact in her chest. He’d asked for clarification, then asked again, then again. When his tears started falling, that’s when the cycle of grief started for him. Denial, bargaining, anger.

Roni, of course, couldn’t tell him everything. She couldn’t tell him about the time travel, and about Harry. She couldn’t tell him anything, really. All she could do was cry.

And cry she did. She cried so hard she got sick, and poor Oliver, through his own tears, called Roni’s grandparents because he didn’t know what else to do. Even in the days that followed, where Roni stayed in the care of her grandparents, she couldn’t give him a straight answer. She wasn’t sure where she would even start, she only begged him to understand that this was the right answer for both of them.

And all the while, her heart had ached. It had ached for her mother, and for Harry. It flooded with overwhelming grief and guilt as Roni constantly wondered if she’d done the right thing leaving 1925.

It had taken a while, but it did get a bit easier after that. Two weeks later, Roni and Oliver ended things-- officially-- both with clearer minds and hearts. Oliver helped Roni’s grandfather move the rest of her things from her and Oliver’s shared apartment back into her grandparents’ home, and she and Oliver talked things through-- as best as they could.

The official reason Roni had given Oliver for their breakup was that she didn’t know who she was on her own and she needed to figure it out; which wasn’t a lie. She had told him, in more or less words, that she was feeling misunderstood and needed to really find out who Veronica Elliot was. After all, they’d been together for nearly ten years. Ten years of her adult life in which she’d done so much growing up, but with him. She needed to grow up on her own.

And Oliver had understood that as best he could. It didn’t make the breakup hurt less by any means, but it made enough sense. All he wanted was for her to be happy, which she appreciated more than she could express. So once she’d gotten settled in with her grandparents, she and Oliver hadn’t spoken again.

Until now.

Oliver nods his head in Roni’s general direction, bringing her from her thoughts. “What’s the occasion?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“You’re shopping for flowers,” Oliver explains with a laugh. “For something good I hope!”

“Oh.” It dawns on Roni that Oliver may actually be able to help her, or at least somewhat understand her current situation. “Yeah. Kind of.” She shifts her weight to her other foot. “Actually… Oliver, do you remember Mr. Styles?”

Oliver furrows his eyebrows. “Who?”

“Mr. Styles. You were assigned to spend time with him in high school. Right before you graduated.” None of this seems to ring a bell to Oliver, so Roni sighs. “You knoooow,” she tries again. “He gave you the advice? About asking me out? You brought me to meet him?”

Oliver’s confusion only seems to deepen. He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think--”

“He died like, shortly after I met him,” Roni says, growing a bit more impatient. “You went to his funeral!”

“Roni,” Oliver says slowly, “I think you’re confused. I was assigned to Mrs. Brown. Mildred Brown. You met her, but there was no one named Mr. Styles.”

Roni shakes her head. “No,” she says. “No, that’s not true.”

“Yes it is,” Oliver insists, then chuckles. “I would’ve remembered someone with a name that cool.”

“But Harry-- Mr. Styles… he--”

“I knew pretty much every resident in that place,” Oliver says. “There was no one named Mr. Styles. At all.”

Roni lets out a breath, blinking as she tries to process exactly what Oliver is telling her. Of course there was a Mr. Styles. She remembers him vividly, both in his youth and in old age. “No…” she says slowly. “No, there definitely was.”

Oliver shakes his head. “Roni, I’m not lying to you. I knew everybody there. There was nobody with that name.”

Roni is only halfway listening to him as her thoughts run a million miles a minute. “He… no, because...” She trails off, finally blinking confusedly up at Oliver. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Oliver watches her for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. After a beat, he speaks again. “You okay?”

“Yeah it’s just… I could’ve sworn--”

“Is that who you were planning on getting the flowers for?” Oliver’s confusion continues to show on his face. “Why?”

“I just--” Roni isn’t even sure where to begin. She sighs. “I just thought… he really meant a lot to you. I wasn’t at the funeral.”

“You’re thinking of Mrs. Brown,” Oliver insists. “I loved that woman. But I haven’t thought of her in years. I’m shocked you even remember her.”

“Apparently I don’t,” Roni jokes half-heartedly. Oliver laughs.

“Where did you come up with that name anyway? It doesn’t even sound remotely familiar.”

Roni, still confused, shakes her head. “I don’t know. I must have heard it in passing or… something.”

“Yeah probably.” Oliver nods towards the flowers. “Anyways. If you’re wanting to get some flowers for Mrs. Brown, she loved lilies.”

Roni glances back towards the cheap bouquets. Lilies. Those might be good.

Her confusion only fogs up her brain more than it already is, and try as she might to hide it, it projects very easily onto her face. Oliver eyes her, as if wanting to touch her but unsure of whether or not he should.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Ron?”

“Yeah,” Roni says quickly, realizing she must look strange. “No, yeah, I’m good. Sorry. Just… brain fart I guess.”

Oliver chuckles. “I know how that goes. Had a ton of those the past couple months. Things have just been like, weird? I guess? That’s the only way I can describe it.”

“I know,” Roni agrees, a tinge of guilt striking her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Oliver says quickly. “Seriously. I didn’t say that to like, make you feel bad or anything. I’m just saying.”

The air is thick with tension all of a sudden, and Roni clears her throat, trying desperately to will it away. Oliver laughs awkwardly.

“Well I don’t want to keep you or anything. I’ll let you get back to your shopping. But it was really good to see you.”

The way he’s smiling at her makes Roni instantly relax, and any awkward vibes in the air fizzle away. She smiles. “It was good to see you, too. Seriously.”

There’s a brief moment of charged energy between the two, before Oliver decides to just bite the bullet and move. He reaches forward before Roni can really even process it and he wraps her up in a hug.

It feels ridiculously comforting in a way that Roni would have never expected, and she surprises herself when she feels her eyes grow misty. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed a hug just in general, and she definitely hadn’t thought the most comforting one would come from Oliver himself. She relaxes into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and giving him a gentle squeeze in return.

They stay like this for a while, and Roni realizes that Oliver probably needs this just as badly as she does. She feels him take a deep breath in through his nose, burying it in her hairline and sighing quietly under his breath. He’s missed her. And Roni can’t lie and she hasn’t missed him, it’s just different.

She can’t go back to him. She absolutely cannot.

“Please take care of yourself,” Oliver mumbles, before finally pulling out of the hug.

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself, Ron. Go easy on yourself. Please.”

His words touch Roni’s heart, and she smiles. “Oh. You too.”

He smiles right back at her, and there’s a long moment where she feels like he might say something else. Ultimately he decides against it, and he nods in finality. “Right,” he says. “See ya.”

He’s gone before Roni has even finished saying her goodbye, and she’s left feeling empty and somewhat melancholy. How is it possible to feel so simultaneously relieved, as if some unexpected closure has occurred between the two, and yet so hollow, as if far too many words were left unspoken?

Roni’s stomach churns and she clears her throat, trying to re-center herself.

Flowers. Harry’s grave. Right.

She knows what Oliver just said, and it confuses her to no end, but she isn’t going to give up that easily. She’s certainly not just going to take his word for it; she has to see for herself. She believes the finality of seeing Harry’s grave-- if there even is one-- will grant her the strength to push forward. To know in her heart that what she had with him is long gone. Otherwise, she fears she’ll never be able to shake the feeling that there is lingering unfinished business between them, and it will continue to haunt her until she knows for certain.

Even if Oliver insists Mr. Styles never existed. She has to try.

So Roni sighs, reaching for a bouquet of white lilies that seem to be the least wilted out of all of their counterparts, before making her way to the checkout line.

———————-

The cemetery is somber, but it brings a peaceful sense of calm over Roni as she steps through the gates. It’s colder and cloudier than it was this morning, and Roni finds herself wishing she’d brought a jacket. She takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed as she scans the many headstones before her. Finding Mr. Styles’ grave is going to be far more difficult than she’d anticipated.

She takes a step forward along the gravel road that winds through the expansive cemetery. She hadn’t realized it was going to be such a large place, with headstones covering the hills everywhere she turns. It’s only the slightest bit disheartening, but Roni is no quitter. If she can’t find his headstone today, she’ll return tomorrow; and if necessary, every day after that until she finds it.

Oliver’s words echo in Roni’s mind as she walks, scanning each headstone for the name she wants so desperately to see. Why didn’t he remember Harry? Surely she hadn’t dreamt that entire day in which she met the elderly gentleman; she has vivid memories of Oliver calling her cousin’s house where she was staying the day of the funeral and telling her how upset he was. That was real. The books on his nightstand were real.

Harry was real.

In the distance, someone sits on the balcony of their apartment and plays guitar. It’s a melancholy song, and although Roni knows they’re just practicing and this has nothing to do with her, it feels strangely fitting. Roni smiles to herself, enjoying the music, as she continues her way down the path.

It feels silly in a way, to be here without any knowledge of the location of Harry’s gravesite or if it’s even in this cemetery at all. In hindsight, she feels, she could have done just a bit more research. She could have called around, done some inquiring about Harry. To be fair, though, she had called his old retirement home only to find that it was no longer a retirement home, but a preschool; a fact that she found quite odd. The circle of life, so to speak.

As she scans the headstones, she reads each name quietly to herself. She figures it may be best to take the cemetery in sections; a section or two today, another tomorrow. It makes the task feel far less daunting and besides, she could use some more peaceful walks like this in her daily life.

She runs her fingertips along the rough top of a headstone, soberly realizing that there are caskets beneath her very feet at this exact moment. Realizing that everyone ends up here in their lives, and that one day she too will end up here. The thought of Harry being somewhere beneath this grass, however, makes her stomach churn. She hates that she’s here, and she knows it’s too late, but she’s hoping it will give her some type of the closure that she’s aching for.

Roni sighs, muttering a gentle “where are you?” under her breath as she scans the headstones.

She continues along the dirt path, shyly chuckling to herself at some of the names (and immediately feeling guilty for it). She switches the bouquet of flowers from her right hand to her left and wipes her sweaty palm along the thigh of her jeans.

As Roni continues her walk, she grows a bit colder than before. She wraps her free hand around her stomach, as if it’s going to help, and sniffles when the wind tickles her hair across her nose. Today had started out so misleading with such beautiful weather, and now she’s shivering against the chilly wind.

It’s about thirty minutes later when Roni happens upon a headstone bearing a name that draws her attention. The name isn’t exactly the one she’s been searching so desperately for, but it does interest her. She goes to it. turning off the gravel path and walking along the moist grass. As she approaches, she reads aloud from it.

“Mrs. Mildred Brown. Beloved wife and mother. Born October 12th, 1899. Died June 6th, 1990.” Roni sighs as she continues, reading the passage from the Bible written in script along the bottom. “‘Well done thou good and faithful servant.’ Matthew 25:21.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t understand,” she mumbles, squatting down beside the headstone to get a better look.

It all checks out, as far as Oliver’s story goes. She regrets not asking him for more information while she had the chance, however. How did Mrs. Brown die? What was it like the day Roni supposedly met her? Had Mrs. Brown been interested in time travel? Why is none of this making sense in Roni’s brain?

As Roni processes all of this, she suddenly gets the unmistakable feeling that she’s being watched. It isn’t a threatening feeling by any means, but she can practically feel a pair of eyes on her out of nowhere, and it is somewhat unsettling.

Of course, her logical brain thinks, she is at a cemetery. There are other people here, no doubt, visiting loved ones. She tries to brush off the feeling, running her thumb over the carved indentations spelling out Mrs. Brown’s name.

Roni notices a rock atop the headstone, indicating that someone has been here to visit Mrs Brown’s grave recently. She feels it would be disrespectful to touch the stone, so she refrains. Instead, she just looks at it, wondering who could’ve left it-- someone in Mrs. Brown’s family?-- and why she can’t, for the life of her, remember this woman.

She can’t shake the feeling that she’s being watched, however, and she glances over her shoulder subtly to see if she can see anyone. She waits a moment, and just as she turns back to observe the headstone once more, she swears she hears her own name.

“Roni.”

The voice is feminine and foreign yet so familiar all at once, and Roni isn’t even sure she’s

actually heard it when she stands up. She turns to her right slowly on her heel, expecting to see someone and feeling slightly disturbed when she doesn’t. She licks her lips, feeling her heart rate increase.

“Who--”

She hears it again, closer now and coming from the other direction, and she turns to her left. Instantly, she is relieved when she realizes who the voice belongs to.

There, standing against a tree with that beautiful, all-knowing smile, stands Violet. Dressed as if she’s just walked straight out of the 1920s.

Perhaps she has.

A million thoughts run through Roni’s head; how did Violet get here? How did Violet know she’d be here? Violet nods, as if reading Roni’s mind.

“Hello, dear.”

Realizing she hasn’t said a word, Roni laughs lightly. “Violet!” She walks over to the mysterious girl, smiling wide. “God, it’s so good to see you.”

As she approaches, she wonders if it would be polite to give Violet a hug. Are they at that level of friendship? Do they know each other that well? Is it weird?

Violet doesn’t allow any more time for Roni to overthink, instead taking charge and pulling her into her arms for a warm embrace.

It’s so ridiculously comforting, and Roni hadn’t even realized just how badly she needed this. When Violet pulls away, she continues to hold Roni at arm’s length, scanning her face. “How have you been?”

“Well…” Roni trails off, then shrugs. “I mean. Not great.” She laughs. “And you?”

“I’ve been well,” Violet replies, voice calming and warm. “My, but it’s good to see you.”

“It’s so good to see you too, Violet. What are you doing here?”

Violet smiles, something subconsciously shifting in her tone, though not in a bad way. “I had a feeling I would find you here,” she explains.

“But how?” Roni asks. “Why today? Why right now?” She leans in. “Why me?”

Violet doesn’t directly answer Roni’s question. “I’ve come to bring you something,” she says, reaching into a satchel that rests on her hip. “Something that might be of great value to you.”

Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up that this gift has anything to do with Harry, but it’s too late. “Something of great value?”

“Sentimental, if anything.”

Roni can’t help but to deflate. “Oh.”

Violet finds whatever it is that she was looking for and retrieves it from the satchel. It seems to be a folded piece of paper, and she holds it out for Roni to take. Roni hesitates, eyeing the paper cautiously, before taking it from Violet’s hands.

“Read it,” Violet prompts. “It might make you smile.”

Slowly, carefully, Roni unfolds the paper. Her heart starts pounding as her mind runs through all the possibilities of what this could be. Before the note is even fully opened, she stops when she recognizes her own handwriting.

“I know what this is,” she says, looking up at Violet slowly.

“You do,” Violet says, nodding. “Read it.”

Roni swallows down the lump in her throat, casting her eyes back to the paper and reading silently to herself.

Harry-

If you’re reading this, it means that I left. I am safely back where I came from, proving you wrong-- just like I knew I would. However, it seemed rude to leave without a proper goodbye. So here it is. I know I only stayed one night with you, but you’ve been really great. I hope your new year is “swell” or whatever it is you’d say, and that all your hopes and dreams come true. Thanks for letting me stay with you. Sorry about the black eye. Take care.

-Roni

Roni looks back up at Violet, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “I wrote this the day after I got there,” she says, as if Violet didn’t know.

Violet nods again. “You did.”

Roni shakes her head, feeling tears prickle at her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she admits, shrugging in submission, as if Violet is about to play some trick on her.

“Harry’s kept it,” Violet explains, and the way she speaks of Harry in the present tense makes Roni’s heart pound.

“He’s…?”

“Kept it,” Violet repeats. “Yes. He found it under his bed a few days after you left.”

“Is he…” Roni doesn’t want to get her hopes up, so she hesitates to ask. “I mean, are you... have you—“

“I have seen him since you left,” Violet answers, smiling knowingly. “Yes.”

Roni swallows the lump rising her throat as the wind whips her hair lightly against her cheeks. “Is he alright?” The question comes out in a whisper.

“He is alright.” Violet nods. “He misses you.”

For some reason, Violet’s words completely overwhelm Roni. She can’t stop her eyes from welling over with tears immediately , and she lets out a little choking laugh. “God,” she says, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. “Does he?”

“Yes, darling.”

“I miss him so much,” Roni says, only half-heartedly attempting to stop her crying. “Can you tell him that?”

“I can.”

Roni laughs again through her tears and steps closer to Violet. “God, I’m sorry. I probably look like a mess. I just can’t believe you’re here, and I…” She trails off, looking down at the paper in her trembling hands. “It’s real,” she says, almost as if reassuring herself. “He was real. This is real.”

“It is real,” Violet says. “You didn’t imagine him.”

“I’ve felt so…” Roni gestures vaguely as she searches for her words. “So stupid, I guess. I don’t know. I haven’t been able to tell anyone the truth. I’ve started doubting myself. I-- I mean it all just seems so crazy, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t.” Violet shakes her head. “Not to me. Though I can understand the hesitation to share your experience with others.”

“And I broke up with Oliver, you know,” Roni continues. “Oliver, my boyfriend. We were together for so long and I… I didn’t love him. I mean I did, but not the way I love Harry. Or… loved Harry. I guess. But I--” she laughs. “God, I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I have in the past like, four months, and I-- I can’t even begin to tell you how good it is to see you. To see… this.” She gestures at the letter, then speaks again; quieter this time, as if to herself. “Fuck, I miss him.”

“Your feelings are completely understandable, Veronica. And justified. You have been through so much. It’s only natural to feel confused. And the connection you have with Harry transcends time itself. But these are odd circumstances, and certainly not a situation that anyone should be expected to know how to navigate. You are not stupid for feeling this way.”

“No,” Roni laughs, almost bitterly. “No, I am. I know I am. It’s just… god, you’re helping me so much just by being here but I--” she sniffs, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt, “I don’t know. I know I need to move on. I know I can’t go back to him but I want to. More than anything else in the world.”

“What would you tell him if you could?” Violet asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Oh god,” Roni says, dabbing at her teary eyes. “I would say…” she trails off, really considering what it is exactly that she would say to Harry if given the chance. She sighs shakily. “I would tell him he’s the love of my life. I would tell him he is the greatest thing that has ever and will ever happen to me in this lifetime. In any lifetime. That I regret leaving him more than anything I’ve ever done. That I miss him. That I love him.”

Roni doesn’t notice the way Violet’s eyes flicker behind her, because she’s still going. “And it’s silly,” she continues, “but I have never stopped hoping he’ll come. I cant…” she sniffs again, “Can’t bring myself to stop. Even though I know he isn’t coming, I’ve never stopped looking for him. I don’t know if I ever will, you know?”

Violet smiles like she knows something that Roni doesn’t, but before Roni can even question it, a voice comes from behind her.

“Well,” it says, slow and deep. “The funny thing about that is, he’s never stopped looking for you either.”

It takes Roni a full ten seconds to even process what she’s hearing, and Violet’s all knowing smile only deepens. Roni whirls around on her heels slowly, her feet still feel frozen into the muddy, damp ground.

And there’s Harry, as young and as handsome as ever, if not a little bit older than the last time she’s seen him.

He smiles, tears welling in his own eyes as he takes a step towards her. “In every timeline,” he says, and takes another step, “in every lifetime. He’s never stopped looking.” He stands only a few mere feet away now, and Roni notes the single tear rolling down his cheek, contrasting his unwavering smile.

“I’ve kept my promise, bunny.”

In a whirlwind, Roni is rushing to him. She trips and stumbles a bit on the mud, falling directly into his arms. She doesn’t even bother standing upright, melting instead into his embrace and wrapping her own arms around him. He does his best to straighten her on her own feet, his arms wrapping tightly around her back, but he loses his own footing and falls ungracefully onto his back.

Neither seem to care about their tumble, and Roni crawls up his body— kissing every possible inch of visible skin she can get her lips onto. Her tears blend into Harry’s own, and he laughs joyfully against her lips as he wraps a supportive arm around her back.

“My god,” Roni sobs into his neck. “My god, my god, what are you doing here?”

“I told you,” Harry says, not even worried about the way his voice cracks. “I never stopped looking. And I found you.”

Roni giggles a wet, teary giggle, squishing his face in her hands and fastening their lips together in a clumsy kiss. He willingly kisses her back, stabilizing her with his hands and squeezing her as if he can’t hold her tight enough.

“Harry,” she sobs, “I missed you so much.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He kisses her teary cheek. “So fucking much.”

Roni presses a few more haphazard kisses to his lips, as if terrified that she’ll lose him the second she stops. She pulls away after a moment, scanning his face through her own blurry eyes.

“I don’t understand,” she says, “how did you get here?”

Harry beams. “Some people have the gift. Some do not.”

“And you have it?!” Roni asks. “You had it this whole time?!”

Harry laughs at the urgency in Roni’s voice, reaching up to wipe the tears out of his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess so. Violet helped me.”

“Violet!” Roni says, suddenly remembering the witchy girl’s presence. She turns to where Violet had just been standing minutes before, and is surprised to see that she is no longer there. Harry and Roni both scan the graveyard, but Violet is in fact nowhere to be found. Roni furrows her brows. “Where did she go?”

Harry doesn’t reply, instead he tilts Roni’s face towards him for another smiley kiss. Roni needs absolutely no persuasion, melting right into him and sighing contentedly.

“I’m so happy,” she cries against his mouth. “So fucking happy.”

“Yeah?” Harry pulls away, tears still streaming freely down his smiling cheeks. “Me too.”

“This feels like a dream,” Roni giggles. “Genuinely. And if it is, I hope I never wake up.”

Harry giggles. “It’s not a dream, sweet girl. I’m here. And I’m staying.”

Roni scans his face for any sign of sarcasm, taken aback by his words. “You’re… staying?” She asks. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but God the thought of Harry being hers forever makes her heart pound in her own ears. “Are you serious?”

Harry beams brilliantly at her, letting go of her back to shrug. “Better be prepared to teach me a thing or two about the future, angel. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”

“Oh my god.” Roni slams her lips into Harry’s, so much so that their teeth clank together, and he chuckles lightly into her mouth.

“I love you,” he says, lips hardly moving from hers. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I don’t understand,” Roni says, pulling back but still holding Harry in her arms. “How did you figure it out? I mean like, the fact that you can time travel. How did you--”

“Trial and error,” Harry explains. “Violet wanted me to wait a while. She said that it would be difficult to learn if I tried right after you left. The broken heart would make it more devastating if we failed.” Harry smiles. “Smart girl, Violet is. But I couldn’t wait very long. About a week later, we started working together to get this all sorted out. We worked on exercises. We worked on visualization. We did everything.”

“And then?”

“It took some time. Obviously. Went to a few different places.” He grins. “The 18th century was a lot of fun.”’

“You went that far back?”

“Sure did. Almost didn’t want to leave.” A playful twinkle glistens in Harry’s eye. “Some old Victorian broad showed me her ankle and I was ready to propose marriage.”

Roni slaps his arm lightly. “Shut up.”

Harry laughs, finding himself so hilarious. “M’joking,” he says. “Of course that didn’t happen.”

“Where else did you go?” Roni asks, then softens. “What took you so long to find me?”

“Wanted to make sure I had the technique perfected,” Harry explains. “Wanted to be sure I knew how to control where I was going. The first time I traveled was only to 1899, and it was quite unintentional. The second time, I was experimenting a bit. That’s how I ended up in 1778. But there was a catch.”

“Which was?”

“It was a different 1778. Not one that you’ve heard of.”

Roni looks confused. “But… how--”

Harry grins like he knows something Roni doesn’t. “Ever heard of parallel universes?”

Roni can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips. “Well holy shit.”

“I take it you’re familiar with the concept?”

“I am,” Roni says. “You were the one who told me about it.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, then immediately furrows them in confusion. “I did? I don’t remember—“

“As an old man,” Roni explains. “I met you when you were like… 90 something.”

“Oh.” Harry’s confusion softens. “No kidding. That’s neat.”

“No but… that would mean...” Roni trails off, confusion etched into her features, as she processes everything that’s going on. “I saw you… you were old…. you died. And Oliver said you… you always talked about this girl from your past... That would have been me, wouldn’t it?”

“I tapped into something even you couldn’t tap into.” Harry seems proud of himself, and he flashes Roni that smug grin she’s missed so much.

“What do you mean?”

“Alternate realities,” Harry explains. “Shifting into another dimension.”

“But how does that--”

“In another universe, yes. Somewhere in time, your memories are true. I was old. I was unsuccessful in finding you. In that universe--” he gestures vaguely around the graveyard, “--I’m six feet under somewhere around here.”

Even he seems to be hit with the somberness of his words. He takes a moment to let that sink in, and then he’s right back to his normal, cheery self. “But!” he says. “I shifted. Into this reality. With the help of Violet, I created a separate timeline.”

“At the cost of--?”

Harry sighs. “I mean. At the cost of some of the people I loved most back home.” He shrugs. “But that’s what alternate universes are for, I suppose.”

“Why couldn’t I have just… created my own alternate universe then? In which I could have kept my mom alive AND stayed with you? Why didn’t Violet give me that option?”

“You could have,” Harry explains. “But there wasn’t a guarantee you could have both. Plus, once you leave one, it is extremely difficult, if not entirely impossible, to get back. You weren’t willing or ready to make that sacrifice. I was.”

“So we’re in a parallel universe?”

“I am. You’re not. You’re in your regular timeline.”

“And you--”

“Shifted into it. Changed the fate’s design, so to speak. It did shift your timeline a bit, as far as my own existence goes. You remember me being old. You remember Oliver attending my funeral. But Oliver doesn’t. No one has any memory of me, in fact.”

“So who are you to everyone then?”

“That’s the beauty of it.” Harry grins. “I’m whoever I want to be. For all they know, I’m a famous singer from the UK who moved here for work.”

“Oh my god,” Roni giggles, leaning in to kiss all over his sweet, teary face once again.

Harry smiles that dimpled smile, obviously over the moon and basking in the way she’s loving on him.

“My sweet boy,” Roni says, lips smushed just below his ear. “My sweet, sweet boy.”

“Missed you,” Harry says quietly. “Couldn’t go on in a world without you.”

Roni bumps her nose tenderly along Harry’s. “I missed you so much.”

Harry laughs quietly to himself. “Can’t even begin to tell you how excited I was when I ended up here. Cried with happiness.”

“How long have you been here?”

Harry’s eyes dart up to the sky as he thinks, doing a bit of mental math in his head. “Two days. Give or take.”

Roni feigns offense. “And you didn’t come find me right away?!”

“Tried. Couldn’t. Didn’t know where you’d be.”

“But how did Violet know?”

Harry smirks. “I don’t know. I don’t know how she knows anything. But it seems she knows everything.”

Roni chuckles. “Apparently so. God.”

Harry hums, brushing Roni’s hair behind her ear and leaning in to kiss her nose. “God, I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too, Harry. Thank you for finding me.”

“Promised you I would,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Was so hoping more than anything that you’d be waiting for me.”

Now Roni frowns. “You had doubts?”

Harry shrugs. “No. I mean…” he trails off, eyes scanning the sweeping hills of the cemetery as he considers his words. “No. I don’t know. I was hopeful.”

“But…?” Roni presses, leaning into him.

“But you lived in the future. You had--” he trails off, eyeing Roni carefully. “--have…. A boyfriend?” His statement turns into a question, and the look on his face makes Roni giggle.

“Had,” she answers. “We broke up. Very shortly after I came back.”

Harry frowns. “M’sorry to hear that. Was it… you know...?”

Roni shrugs. “I was hopeful, too,” is the only answer she offers him.

“Hopeful for me?”

“Yeah.”

“You knew I’d find you.”

Roni kisses Harry’s cheek. “I hoped you would.”

“Poor bloke though. I know how hard it is to live in a world without you.”

“Somehow I think he’ll manage.” Roni giggles. “No, actually, I saw him this morning. When I was—“ She trails off, suddenly remembering the bouquet of flowers she’d bought that now lays forgotten a few feet away. Harry seems to notice them at the same time she does, and he turns back to her. He doesn’t push for her to finish her thought, he instead strokes her hair and admires the way it looks in the wind.

“I was going to put flowers on your grave,” Roni explains, sheepishly. “I don’t know what I was thinking was going to happen. Maybe… like, closure or something. I don’t know.”

“Closure,” Harry repeats, smiling. “Wanted rid of the haunting memories of me then?”

Roni rolls her eyes but she giggles that giggle that Harry has dreamt about every night since she’d left. “No, god, of course not,” she laughs. “It’s just that living with the weight of how much I missed you…” She trails off again, and Harry can see the gears turning in her head as she immediately processes another thought. “I still don’t understand,” she says. “I never believed you when you told me. You as an old man, I mean. I’d brushed it off. I hadn’t thought it was realistic.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to feign offense. “As realistic as time travel.”

“I know,” Roni giggles again. “It’s just that you were old when you told me. I didn’t know you.”

Harry grins now. “Was I a handsome old bastard?”

Roni’s giggles turn into full belly laughs. “I mean, I was like, sixteen. So I didn’t think so, no.”

“Bollocks,” Harry curses, and Roni snorts.

“This is insane,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m talking to you about… well, you… but as an old man. Memories I have of you, that you didn’t even exist for. But you did. I don’t know.”

Harry nods. “It’s an odd thing,” he agrees. “An odd situation we find ourselves in for sure.”

Roni hums in agreement, and a moment of comfortable silence falls between the two. She giggles after a moment, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her fingers and kissing his lips again, slow and smiley.

“God,” she says, when she finally pulls away. “I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

Harry pulls that cheeky look of his that Roni’s missed so much, wiggling his eyebrows. “You want me to pinch you, honey?” He squeezes lightly at her sides and she squeals, wiggling out of his grasp. He beams at the sound, wrapping an arm around her quickly and pulling her right back into him before smooching all over her cheeks and her nose. “C’mere,” he growls playfully. “Not getting away from me that easily. Never again.”

She continues to giggle, submitting completely to him as he tilts her head and kisses her. They laugh into one another’s mouths, their giggles dying down as their kisses increase in intensity. His tongue trails along her bottom lip, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly Roni grants him access to her own tongue. She’s missed his taste more than she’d ever thought it possible, and she can’t help but to moan when her tongue slides along his.

“Fuck,” she whispers, completely unaware of the fact that she’s crying again.

“Hey,” Harry coos, pulling away and cupping her face with his hands. “Stop that. No more of that. No more crying.” He swipes at the tears under her eyes, stroking her cheek bones as lovingly as he can. There is no way to convey exactly how he’s feeling right now; he’s just so in love with her and so relieved to be holding her again. Seeing her cry, indicative that she feels the exact same way, makes his heart both sink and soar, and his eyes well up with tears all over again.

They both realize he’s crying too at the exact same time, and they laugh at how silly they’re both being. Harry, still holding Roni’s face in his hands, continues to wipe at her tears while she reaches up to wipe at his. They continue to laugh and cry and kiss, holding one another as close as they possibly can and forgetting about the entire world around them.

After a little while, Harry pushes himself to his feet with a little grunt. Roni immediately misses his warmth, which is pathetic, she knows. She can’t help the little whine that escapes past her lips as she reaches for him, and he chuckles as he takes her hand in his. “I’ll be right back, honey, I promise.” He gives her hand a quick squeeze before turning on his heel to go retrieve her discarded bouquet of flowers.

Roni watches him, so completely enamored and in love with him as he walks. He’s dressed sort of funky, not quite in his 1920s style but definitely outdated by today’s standards. He isn’t wearing his cap that she’s missed so much, but his curls are styled messily-- which isn’t helped at all by the wind. He looks so handsome. So soft. So him.

Her Harry.

She still feels like she’s dreaming in all honesty, and as she keeps her eyes glued to him she revels in the fact that he’s here. This person that she’s quite literally ached for for months now, the person she didn’t think she could possibly live without, the person she never thought she’d see again— he’s here. He found his way back to her because he loves her. It simply doesn’t feel real.

Harry picks up the bouquet and buries his nose in them, taking a big inhale and smiling to himself with the cutest dimpled smile. He looks back to see Roni— his sweet Veronica sitting there on the grass, wind whipping her hair and a silly, sweet smile on her face. He’s overwhelmed, really, and he walks quickly to close the space between him and his girl.

When Harry arrives by Roni’s side he plops right back down beside her, kissing both cheeks and the tip of her nose. When he pulls away, he’s smiling softly, and he nods down to the bouquet in his hands. “These were for me?”

“Yeah,” Roni says, somewhat bashfully. “I mean… for your grave. So. Yeah, for you but like… not? I don’t know.”

Harry chuckles, humming as he nods. “Mm.” He reaches into the cheap paper that holds the bouquet together and fingers lightly at a petal. “These are lilies.”

Roni, impressed by his knowledge of botany, smiles. “They are, yeah! How’d you know?”

Harry laughs. “Wasn’t born yesterday, Veronica, for heaven’s sake,” he teases. “In fact, I was born….” Harry scrunches his face, doing a bit of mental math in his head. “About a hundred and one years ago I think!”

“Holy shit,” Roni says, doing the math in her own head. “So you’re… old.”

“Technically, I suppose,” Harry chuckles. “But also, not actually.” He kisses her temple, then reaches into the paper bouquet. Roni wonders briefly what he’s doing, until she sees him snap a lily off of its stem. It looks so delicate between his fingers it makes her shiver, and she hardly has time to register what he’s doing before he’s tucking it gently behind her ear. He moves slowly, his thick fingers brushing lovingly against her skin.

Harry’s eyes scan her face, and in this moment Roni has never felt more loved. He cups her jaw and runs his thumb along her cheek, his green eyes still wet with tears. He hums, his mouth looking so irresistibly delicious, and Roni holds his eye contact with bated breath, waiting for him to do something.

“You are so beautiful,” he says softly, almost more to himself than to her. “My beautiful girl.”

“Your beautiful girl,” Roni repeats, leaning into his touch. “Thank you for finding me.”

“I’ll always find you, Veronica.” Harry drops his hand from her jaw and wraps it around her smaller hand that’s placed in her lap. “In every timeline,” he leans in and kisses her forehead, “in every lifetime,” he kisses her nose, “I will find you,” her lips, “and I will love you with everything I have to give until my heart stops beating.” He kisses her lips again, slower this time, before resting his forehead to hers and allowing his eyes to close.

They sit like this, silently drinking in one another’s presence, and when a tear slips down Roni’s cheek neither of them mention it. Harry presses velvety kisses to Roni’s lips every few seconds or so, and even he’s crying after a bit.

No words are spoken, but no words are necessary. In fact, it doesn’t feel like there would be any words to even begin to describe the happiness in both of their hearts presently. Roni swallows down a lump in her throat and giggles, sniffling a bit.

“God,” she says, “I think I’ve cried more in the past few months than I have in my entire life.”

“Well we’re fixing that,” Harry says, pulling away and wiping at her tears. “Effective immediately. No more tears. From here on out.”

“You promise?”

“Only happy ones. I promise.”

Roni licks her lips, then leans back in to kiss him again. “I like the sound of that.”

They stay like this for a while, disregarding the way it’s getting colder by the minute and the way that the tiny bit of sun that’s peeking through the clouds is beginning to dip behind the treetops. Roni catches him up one everything that’s happened in her life since she’d left him, and Harry tells her all about all the adventures he’s had while trying to find her. They laugh, and they continue to cry on and off (which makes them laugh harder) until Harry finally notices Roni shiver subconsciously at a gust of wind.

“Getting colder,” he observes, then adds “perhaps we should get out of here.”

Roni hums in agreement. “We should. You’ve got to meet my grandparents.”

Harry’s face changes into somewhat amused confusion. “Already?”

“What?” Roni says, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt off of her jeans. “If you’re going to be staying with us you’re going to have to meet them eventually.”

“Yes, but….” Harry rises to his feet as well. “Don’t you think we ought to do this right? I mean, they don’t know me, you’ve just broken up with your long term boyfriend, they’re going to think I’m a creep.”

Roni giggles. “They won’t. I promise. I’ll say you’re a friend from college who’s recently moved to town. We caught up today and you needed a place to stay for a bit. They won’t care.”

“They won’t think it’s… I don’t know, improper?”

“You’ve never met my grandparents,” Roni says. “They’re like the chillest people ever.”

When she’s met with only a look of pure confusion on Harry’s face, she laughs again. “You’re in the twenty-first century now, Harry. It’s your turn to adapt.” She lightly pinches his side, causing him to laugh.

“Suppose so,” Harry giggles, taking her hand in his and interlacing their fingers. “Lots to learn. I have a feeling you’re an excellent teacher, though.”

Roni smiles, swinging their hands as they fall into step, walking along the gravel road winding through the cemetery. “Well, I’ll do my best,” she says. “It’s the least I can do for you after you bent the laws of time itself to come and find me and all that.”

“Exactly,” Harry says, nodding. “Although I won’t lie to you, Veronica, I’m a bit nervous to get it all sorted out.”

Roni gives Harry’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t be,” she replies. “We don’t have to have it all sorted out. When have we ever had anything sorted out?” She laughs quietly to herself. “I’ve come to find that life is much better unplanned.”

“Yeah?” Harry squints, eyes scanning the vast hills as the wind whips his curls messily. “Well, I’ve come to find that you’re right about most things.”

The silence that follows is comforting and soft, but both are thinking the exact same thing. Sure, it is a bit terrifying to start a life together--properly--like this. Harry is here to stay, and as wonderful and exciting as that is, they both know it’s going to be hard work. He’s going to have to adapt, and it isn’t going to be easy. He’s starting from scratch. No job, no house, nothing.

But he does have his honey by his side. And somehow that’s enough.

They exit the cemetery, hand in hand, and Harry tries his best not to look so clueless as he observes the world around him. Roni is patient and gentle with him, answering any questions he has and giggling when he makes jokes. They’ve fallen into their comfortable swing of things that they’ve both missed so deeply, and Harry reckons that with his Veronica holding his hand, he can conquer anything.

As they approach Roni’s grandparents’ house, however, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach begin to act up. His hands grow sweaty and he hopes Roni doesn’t notice. (She does.) He wipes his free hand on the thigh of his trousers and swallows, slowing the pace of his walking until he stops altogether.

He looks up at the big house, daunting but quaint and surrounded by a completely innocent looking white picket fence, and he can feel Roni watching him. She’s nervous, too, he knows it. She gives his hand a squeeze before letting go, and his hand falls dully to his side.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Roni asks quietly. “I mean, are you sure this is what you want? To be here, in a different time, re-learning the world and the people in it?”

Harry turns to her now. “Of course this is what I want,” he insists, almost defensively. “I just… it’s a bit more scary close up, isn’t it?”

Roni knows he isn’t talking about the house.

“It is,” she says slowly, after a beat. “But, if I know anything for sure, it’s that you and I make an excellent team. Whatever the circumstance, we can navigate it together, even if we haven’t got a clue what the right answer is. Somehow I know we’re always going to figure it out.” She lowers her voice, stepping in closer to Harry. “You’re the bravest, most wonderful man I know, Harry. You’re going to be fine.”

He turns to her, smiling as he swallows down the nauseous feeling in his throat. She beams. “You’re going to be just fine,” she repeats.

Harry reaches forward, taking her hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to each of her knuckles. “Alright,” he says quietly. “I’m ready.”

Roni smiles, squeezing his hand again and taking a deep breath in through her nose. “To our new life,” she says.

“To our future,” Harry adds. “To… forever.”

Roni nods. “Forever. Yeah.”

With deep breaths and trembling fingers, Harry and Roni step though the little gate surrounding the yard of the house and make their way onward. Into their future. Into the intimidating uncertainty of navigating a life brought on by such unique and odd circumstances. Two souls, interwoven and transcending time and space itself for the chance to be together, taking on the new set of challenges that await them because they have each other.

No matter where they end up in any lifetime, together or apart, they will always find one another somewhere in time.

#Harry Styles #Harry #One Direction #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #One Direction fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #One Direction AU #AU #Harry Styles angst #Harry angst #One Direction angst #angst #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #One Direction fluff #fluff

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ooops-i-arted · 3 years

Note

I know that considering (TCW-2008) refs/characters in this episode that it won’t be your fav but can you please share your child development thoughts for S02E05 please??

They may have been stuff I wasn’t fond of but there were so many cute Baby & Dad moments to make up for it!!

First of all, the puppeteers deserves ALL THE AWARDS for bringing Baby Yoda to life! Not just making Baby “come alive” in general, but also that sort-of-awkward way children move when they don’t have complete confidence in their limbs yet. The are doing a phenomenal job this season and I hope they are all safe and healthy and have all the chocolate they want. Not only is it fantastic from a special effects perspective, it really highlights how far Baby has come now that he’s not stuck in a pod all day and implies that Din is trying to keep him active and physically healthy, and giving him opportunities to develop his muscles and muscle control. (Just imagine them playing a makeshift game of chase through the Razor Crest!)

I absolutely loved Din saying “Hey, what did I tell you” because I have said those exact words in that exact tone SO MANY TIMES and also his Dad Voice is getting so much better! Baby actually listens to him and understands that Din expects him to listen! Of course he still wants the ball (and apparently takes it enough that Din has been practicing his Dad voice on that too, “What did I say about that” is another phrase I also use at work).

Though there may have been another reason he wants the ball this time - as a comfort item, like a child bringing their favorite stuffie to the first day of school. Baby was there when the Armorer told Din to find Jedi to bring the Baby to. He has been listening a lot when Din talks about finding Jedi to train him and give him to. I think Baby is very, very aware of the fact that the end goal is to leave him with the Jedi and is very afraid of leaving his beloved father. He would’ve had stable caretaker(s) at the Jedi Temple but in the last twenty years who knows what’s happened to him. His subdued, don’t-draw-attention-to-myself behavior in Season 1 definitely makes me think he’s been neglected, bare minimum, and possibly abused. Din not only treats him kindly but actually takes care of his needs, is kind to him, and is the most stable presence in his life. Of course he’d be terrified to leave him!

I think that’s also why he doesn’t play ball with Ahsoka, so to speak. We all know he can lift a mudhorn, a rock is no problem for him. He could do it in a heartbeat. But I think he understood that if he showed off for her, Ahsoka might take him away. So he refused for that, and because it’s very common at that age to refuse to do something to regain control of a situation. (That’s why you get kids enjoying telling you “No!” and the whole terrible twos thing.) If he refuses, he stays in control of what’s happening. But of course Din knows exactly how to tempt him with his favorite ball, and kids do want to please adults they like. Anything to hear that sweet, sweet positive reinforcement. So it wasn’t just the shiny ball that convinced Baby - it was the fact that Din was the one playing with him, and that Din so enthusiastically tells him good job. (And Din is noticeably more into it when using the orb. Maybe he and Baby have played with it before? So it’s more natural to both of them. And he was truly so proud of his boy!! It was adorable.)

It’s the same with hearing his real name, which he presumably hasn’t heard in twenty years. He responds when Ahsoka says it, but when Din says it? He’s instantly turned around, ears perked all the way up in “happy” mode. It’s special when Din says it, because Din is special to him.

Which then ties into the whole attachment thing. Baby is very healthily attached to Din. There’s a reason we stick kids with the same teacher for a year plus at a time, it’s because kids are comfortable with a regular person they can get to know, just like adults are. To Baby, Ahsoka is just some orange stranger and Din is his dad. Of course he is more attached to Din and has fears over losing him, especially if he’s been deprived of that for the last 20-odd years! It’d be different if Din was sticking around to transition Baby somewhere new, or just dropping him off for lessons. But leaving a parent permanently and abruptly after likely previous trauma? That would be horrible for Baby.

And re: The Jedi + attachments Ahsoka (and Filoni) are wrong on that. The Jedi do not forbid attachments, only letting your attachments rule you. Ki-Adi-Mundi is married and so were others, and there are plenty of Padawan-Master relationships to see - for example, Obi-Wan was attached to Qui-Gon and clearly loved him and was devastated by his loss, but it’s only when he conquers his emotions and calms himself is he able to defeat Maul, and afterward is implied/shown to mourn Qui-Gon and handle his grief in a healthy way. Anakin doesn’t fall because he’s attached to his loved ones. He falls because he’s willing to commit murder and genocide over his attachments. So “I can’t teach Grogu because he’s attached to you” is bullshit. “I can’t teach Grogu because he is attached to you and needs to be safely transitioned into Jedi life in an environment that is comfortable and safe for him, with your help as his adoptive father, and I have no way to do that here and/or don’t feel comfortable doing that” is much more accurate. (This is probably what would’ve happened if the Order was still around, anyway, and/or how he was actually taken in - the 3D TCW episode with the Jedi children shows the bounty hunters tricking the parents to kidnap the kids, implying that a real Jedi would work with the family to transition the children in a safe and healthy manner. The Rodian even says the Jedi have already spoken to her iirc.)

Of course even if Grogu is unhealthily attached to Din (which he isn’t, imo, he behaves like a child at a normal level of attachment to a regular caretaker he loves) then ignoring it and not doing anything about it is equally bad.... as we’ve already seen when he got upset with Cara last season. Baby must learn to control his powers so he doesn’t hurt himself or others, especially since he’s so young he doesn’t always have full control over his own emotions. “Big” emotions can be a lot for a kid; a screaming meltdown is bad enough when the kid can’t yeet you with their mind. I’ve been hit, kicked, bitten, scratched, had toys thrown at me, even been hit with heavy wooden blocks. A Grogu out of control with his emotions and using the Force? Terrifying. Yes, his attachment to Din makes him more vulnerable to his fears and anger - we’ve seen him choke Cara and while he only held back the mudhorn, in theory he could’ve done more. But that is just all the more reason to teach him control. Ignore harmful behavior and it will only get worse, and Din isn’t really equipped to help him navigate that since Din doesn’t understand the Force and can’t understand what Grogu says.

(Also lol at “He doesn’t understand” “He does.” You can 100% tell when kids understand you perfectly and are refusing to do it, even when a parent is making excuses for their darling. xD Especially since kids will frequently act/react differently to their parents versus other caretakers.)

“He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years” I call partial bullshit on that. No, I don’t think Baby has done any long-term planning or had thoughts along the lines of “I’m being hunted and need to protect myself by pretending not to be a Force-user.” But I think he has probably figured out people react a certain way when he does Force things and perhaps decided “I shouldn’t make things float because then people will grab me/I will get taken away/other consequence I don’t like will happen.” That’s more in line with a toddler’s level of thinking/comprehension. And it adds greater weight to him saving Din from the mudhorn - he didn’t know how Din would react to him using the Force, if Din would try and hurt him or lock him in the pod or whatever, but he still wanted to save Din. Overall though I think Baby’s Force-use is in line with a toddler’s thoughts. “I want X to happen, I can make that happen with the Force, so I will make X happen unless I’m more scared of [consequence] happening.”

So overall a pretty revealing episode for Baby/Grogu. (I’m not used to the new name yet tbh.) Although I’m worried about how many times it will take Din hearing it to realize that yes, you are this baby’s father, get that through your beskar-plated skull.

#baby yoda meta #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #baby yoda #grogu

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fenandfield · 3 years

Text

Buried Beneath

Fic summary: Despite the tremors Phoenix felt a groan as the old courthouse shifted and creaked with the earth beneath it and he felt his face go pale. Realizing what was about to happen, he only had seconds to act as he rolled Edgeworth under the prosecutors bench, throwing himself on top of him just as the entire building fell in on itself, trapping the two attorneys inside its bowels.

The ground went still

After a particularly devastating earthquake, the courthouse is in ruin. Phoenix and Edgeworth are trapped down below the wreckage until help arrives.

Word count: 4049

Chapters: 1/1

Story and link to read on ao3 are just below the cut, reblogs and comments are lovely :)

It came out of the blue - like earthquakes tended to do - fast and terrifying as usual.

Phoenix stood in front of the court, pressing Edgeworths witness with no remorse as Maya stood faithfully behind the defence bench, sneaking candies into her mouth when she thought no one was watching.

It was with Edgeworths faltered “Objection-“ that the ground had begun to tremble. And it trembled hard.

Phoenix stumbled to his knees as someone screamed “earthquake!” and panic settled over the courtroom. A TV fell off the wall behind him with a clatter and the presented case evidence slid off the desk as Phoenix shielded his head with his hands and ran for Maya where she stood frozen in fear.

The ground continued to shake.

“Evacuate, evacuate the building!”

Phoenix fought for his balance as he tugged on Mayas sleeve, “Come on, we have to get out of here!”

The spirit medium fell into his side with a stumble. “But, Nick! What about Mr. Edgeworth?!” She cried over the noise of shattering objects and frightened people.

Phoenix gasped, eyes going wide. Edgeworth. He turned. Miles hadn’t moved from his place behind the prosecutors bench, eyes forced shut and knuckles white where they gripped the wooden banister.

Without thinking he shoved Maya towards the exit, “I’ll get him out of here, you go!” She stared back with tear filled eyes, rooted to the quaking floor. “Go!” He barked, fixing her with a stern glare until she sniffled, turning on her heel and running for safety.

The ground continued to shake.

Phoenix spun around. He knew he only had a matter of moments before Edgeworth would spiral out of mental reach or worse, faint. But it was too late. Phoenix had taken his first step forward just as Miles’ eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed onto the floor, forehead striking the desk rather harshly on the way down, impact eliciting a sickening crack.

“Miles!” He screamed as he staggered over to his slumped form, grabbing the man by his shoulders and slapping at his slack face. The man lying limp on the floor made no response. “Don’t do this, we have to get out of here!”

Despite the tremors Phoenix felt a groan as the old courthouse shifted and creaked with the earth beneath it and he felt his face go pale. Realizing what was about to happen, he only had seconds to act as he rolled Edgeworth under the prosecutors bench, throwing himself on top of him just as the entire building fell in on itself, trapping the two attorneys inside its bowels.

The ground went still.

Phoenix came around to the scent of blood and the sensation of a crushing weight resting on the lower part of his body, most specifically his right ankle. Swallowing blearily he lifted his head with a groan and opened his eyes.

What had happened?

Right. Earthquake. Edgeworth. The courthouse collapsing.

He coughed as he attempted to take a gulp of air, littered with dust and debris. His surroundings were cast in darkness though if he squinted he could still make out a dim light source coming from somewhere behind him.

So they were buried. Hopefully not too deeply if light and oxygen was still able to filter its way through the wreckage.

They were buried alive. Okay, Wright. Don’t panic don’t panic don’t fucking panic. It… it could be worse, right?

He could be dead.

As his vision adjusted to the minimal light source he could make out the silhouette of another persons head slanted to the side on the floor underneath his own body. Miles.

Phoenix felt a jolt of panic as he realized that the other man had yet to make any signs of life. Freeing a hand, he placed two fingers on the side of Miles’ exposed neck.

One beat. Two beat. Three beat. Four.

Phoenix let his head hang with a sigh of relief. Edgeworth was alive, simply out cold. The fact sent a small pang of worry through his system, albeit, a fact that he was slightly grateful for because the position they had ended up in was quite… undignified.

Phoenix lay on his front, arms that had previously been wrapped around Edgeworths shoulders now propping himself up. The exposed side of his body had been completely buried, forcing the two men taught against the far wall of the bench, and Edgeworth… Edgeworth lay tucked almost perfectly underneath Phoenix’s own self. Practically nose to nose on the floor.

Phoenix felt his ears go red with heat at the realization that there was nothing separating the two attorneys except for the clothes on their backs. Embarrassed, Phoenix attempted to roll off of his unconscious friend but met resistance in the form of searing pain in his ankle.

Stifling a cry of pain he held his breath and pulled at his leg as hard as he could muster. He tugged and tugged to no avail, cursing and panting.

Then something shifted. Something heavy. Shifting the opposite way that Phoenix needed it to go. He bit his lip hard as the pain grew tenfold, moaning in misery. Okay, so that was a bad idea.

Was

Stuck.

And with Edgeworth pinned underneath him, it didn’t seem like they’d be freeing themselves anytime soon. No, they’d have to wait for help to come to their aid, and pray that it would get there fast - if it came at all.

He tipped his head as far back as it could go, desperate to make their whereabouts known. “Hello!?” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “Can anyone hear me!?”

Only the sound of Edgeworths even breathing met his ears.

Phoenix had heard stories of victims in these types of burial situations. Some having to lie in wait for days on end before being uncovered and by then… it was too late. Asphyxiation, starvation, internal injuries. It took them all out.

Fear was like ice in his veins.

Hastily, he placed his fingers back against Edgeworths throat for reassurance. The prosecutor was still alive but unresponsive. Phoenix swallowed as he stared down at Edgeworths moppy bangs in the dark. He couldn’t panic now. Not when Miles surely would, thanks to his past trauma.

And wouldn’t this situation just make everything ten times worse for him. Phoenix chewed his bottom lip in sweltering anxiety. It would be more than a challenge to keep Miles calm when he woke up.

If he woke up…

Phoenix winced and would’ve smacked himself for that thought if he had the space to move. He couldn’t afford that sort of doubt, not now at all times.

He shifted again in an effort to find a more comfortable position for his ankle as it continued to throb but went still when he heard a faint voice.

“...please…” Miles breathed and Phoenix’s heart leapt into his throat. He was coming around.

“E-edgeworth?” He stuttered in a low voice, so not to startle the man beneath him.

Miles made no signs of recognition, eyes closed and head tipped to the side. “Please… don’t… don’t hurt my father…”

Phoenix’s bottom lip was starting to swell under his constant nipping. “Edgeworth… M-Miles, it’s me, it’s Phoenix…”

Miles finally lifted his head to reveal the other half of his face which was - much to Phoenix’s horror - slick with blood. Phoenix’s eyes flew wide and he pushed away from Edgeworth only for the back of his head to make contact with the underside of the desk with a dull ‘bonk’.

He rubbed at the sore spot as he vividly remembered Miles whacking his own head on the bench when he fainted. He better not be concussed. Phoenix didn’t know how to deal with head injuries very well.

“Ph… Phoenix..?” Miles eyelids fluttered for a moment before they shut again. “No...no… don’ hurt…” Edgeworth whimpered and Phoenix shushed him gently, uncomfortable and unsure of how to treat the situation. He had never seen the man so open and vulnerable before.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay Edgeworth.” He consoled as he tilted his head to try and get a better view of Edgeworths head wound. The poor lighting discoloured the crimson liquid, altering its shade to one of inky blackness. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from. “That looks bad, Miles.” Subtly, he maneuvered his arm and patted down his breast pocket, removing his tissue that he stored in there. With one hand he shook it until it unfolded and used it to dab at the blood that coated half of Miles’ face and hairline.

Edgeworth immediately pulled away with a grimace and a noise of pain. “No… no…” he gasped and tossed his head, limbs weakly beginning to shiver.

Phoenix braced himself as Miles’ tossing and turning put pressure on his wounded ankle. “Hey, it’s okay… it’s okay Miles.” He struggled to keep his voice light as pain flickered across his entire leg at the change in posture.

Ever so slowly Edgeworths stirring ceased, and his only movements became the incoherent muttering of his lips and soft trembles of his body. Hesitantly, Phoenix wiped the blood from his cheek, smearing it slightly up the bridge of his nose as he went.

It was obvious that Miles was not faring well and it terrified him.

Phoenix didn’t know if it were the blow to the head or the PTSD that was making Edgeworth act so different - so wrong - but he figured it was likely a healthy combination of both factors.

Miles kept muttering incoherencies under his breath in a broken voice of a whisper as Phoenix cautiously cleaned his wound to the best of his ability. When he located the source of the blood he winced with Edgeworth as he felt it out with his fingers. A gash, roughly two inches long sat on top of a tough lump of swollen flesh that rested just underneath Miles’ hairline.

Ouch.

Phoenix knew headwounds bled quite a bit, but he was not expecting his handkerchief to become soiled with the substance as fast as it had. His fingers were sticky and red, stained almost as much as the fabric in his hands and yet the cut kept oozing. Not knowing what else to do, Phoenix refolded the tissue and settled it on top of the injury before pressing down. You were supposed to put pressure on wounds, right?

Miles moaned underneath him and Phoenix patted his chest with his free hand in an awkward attempt at comfort before remembering that he was probably smearing blood all over the expensive suit.

He retracted his hand with a meek chuckle. “Yeah, we’re in a bit of a squeeze, aren’t we Miles?” Tentatively, he lifted the corner of the handkerchief to check for clotting but had to press back down when more blood instantly welled up. “You know… you’re supposed to keep this red stuff inside your body.”

He kept up the pressure as Edgeworth continued to shiver as if he’d been left in the polar circle - most likely had something to do with blood loss and shock - Phoenix assumed. He hated the silence but hated the echo of his own voice even more, so he opted to stay quiet, kept sane only by the sounds of Edgeworths faint mumbles and exhales.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the quake had struck, but it felt like days. Phoenix rubbed at his nose. It had probably only been a few hours at max and yet there had been no sight nor sound of rescue.

Phoenix swallowed dryly, if anything he’d be dying of thirst before sun set. With a sigh, he doubled his pressure on Miles’ brow and mentally settled into the never ending silence.

But then.

Miles woke up.

With a gasp the prosecutors eyes flew open and he jackknifed halfway before whacking his forehead off of Phoenix’s and collapsing back onto the floor.

Phoenix clasped a hand to his head with a shout of surprise. “Miles!”

Edgeworth blinked and even in the dark setting, Phoenix could plainly see one pupil larger than the other.

Not good.

“F-father…” Edgeworth croaked.

Phoenix shook his head, “No, no, it’s me Phoenix, Phoenix Wright.”

Miles sucked in a breath through his nose, crinkling it on the exhale. “Wr...Wright?” The hint of confusion in his voice was strong. Yeah, he was definitely concussed, Phoenix decided.

“Yeah, it’s me… how do you feel?” He asked lightly, not expecting his next words to be a holler of pain and surprise when Edgeworth started moving again.

Miles pushed at him weakly, “Ge’ off…” he slurred as he writhed.

Phoenix grabbed at miles wrists and pinned them easily to the floor. “Stop, stop. Don’t move, please stop moving.” He hissed through his teeth at the agonizing sensation of the weight increasing pressure on his injured limb. “We’re stuck, okay? Now please, stop moving.”

Something Phoenix said must've managed to worm its way through Edgeworths swollen skull because immediately, Miles went still again. There was a beat before either one of them made another sound.

“St-stuck?” Miles’ voice was high with terror. “No… no…”

Shit, wrong thing to say… “Well, yeah! But it’s not that bad really. Well, I mean it’s a little snug...”

“No no… not… happening…” Miles coughed and spluttered as he attempted to twist out of Phoenix’s hold. “Have to… no air… st-stop stop stop…”. The prosecutor's breaths swiftly turned into panicked pants, settled on the cusp of hyperventilation.

Phoenix didn’t know what to do or say to qualm his friends fears. “Mi-Miles, breathe- you’re…we’re gonna get out of here, okay?” Edgeworths chest heaved and in the gleam of the light, Phoenix caught the trails of something wet on Miles’ face. Tears.

Edgeworth was crying.

Phoenix’s heart broke at the sight.

“I… We’re going to get out of here, Miles. I promise.” Phoenix let his head dip close enough to Edgeworths that their foreheads brushed briefly. “I promise you.”

All too suddenly Miles went totally still and Phoenix pulled away, worry contorting his features. Did he just pass out again? Phoenix didn’t know if he could handle being alone in the dark again.

God, he felt like a little kid.

“Miles... You still here?” He cried, voice shaking with poorly restrained emotion. No response from the man lying trapped underneath him. “Miles, wake up!” He barked, shaking the silent man by his wrists.

“Do… shut up…” Miles moaned when Phoenix began relentlessly chanting his name, poking his cheekbone with every syllable.

Phoenix laughed at the sound of his voice, now that sounded like the Edgeworth he knew. “Oh thank goodness, I was so worried!”

“Wrigh’ is that… you?” Miles’ voice was hardly louder than a mere whisper but it was still music to Phoenix’s ears.

“He-hey, Edgeworth… yeah, it’s me.” He sighed in relief at the coherency he could hear in his colleagues tone.

Miles squinted up at him. “You… you’re lying on top of me…”

Phoenix felt his smile falter, pressing his lips together as his thoughts spiralled. Hadn’t they already gone over this? “Yeah, I kinda am… sorry about that.” He confirmed. Miles simply blinked.

So Edgeworth still wasn’t… all there.

They gazed into each other’s eyes for a long number of seconds before Edgeworth whined. “Get off… you big… oaf…” He made to lift his wrists again but gave up against Phoenix’s heavy grip.

“Sorry, sorry, no can do.” The words ‘we’re stuck’ were on the tip of his tongue before he bit it back. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “How’s your head?” He tried instead.

Edgeworth swallowed hard. “Hurts…” he admitted without interrogation - another red flag revealing what state he was in. Edgeworth wasn’t the type to tell the truth when it came to personal feelings.

“Yeah, yeah I bet it does.” Phoenix started slowly, unsure of what words would trigger Miles' psyche into another panic attack.

Miles coughed, harsh and wet sounding, “...why?”

“Why? Uh, why what…” Phoenix frowned momentarily before realization struck. “Oh, well you took a good hit. Whacked it real good.”

Miles made a sound somewhere between a hum and a groan. “W-where?”

Phoenix paused. How was he supposed to answer that in truth without igniting another freak out? Easy.

Lie.

“We’re, uh, in bed…?” Phoenix grimaced as soon as the words were out - what kind of excuse was that?

“...Oh.” Miles sounded slightly surprised, but he made no grunts of disapproval, which is what Phoenix had been expecting without a doubt in his mind. “T-together?”

Phoenix squeaked. “Yep! Don’t you remember, we’re uh-“ he was really digging out his own grave here, “- We’re dating.” He choked out.

Miles frowned. “Don’ remember…”

“Well I’m not surprised, you hit your head pretty hard.” Phoenix chuckled awkwardly, mixed emotions washing over him at the continuation of the charade. “How do you feel, Miles?”

Edgeworth sighed and turned his neck, eyes fluttering closed. “T’red… Head hurts…”

Alarms blared in Phoenix’s mind as Miles relaxed in his hold. There was something he had read about concussions and sleeping. “Oh wait wait, Edgeworth you can’t sleep right now!”

Miles growled. “But… bed?”

“Yeah, yeah we are in bed but Miles, you’re hurt.” Phoenix pleaded but Miles kept his eyes closed. “Come on, you have to stay awake… you could- you could die... an-and I don’t want to be alone…” His voice dimmed exponentially on the last part, admitting the fact more so to himself than Edgeworth.

“Alone… is not… head… hurts…”

Phoenix shushed him as Miles shifted minutely as he whimpered, brushing back his shaggy bangs with a blood stained hand.

“Make… it stop… Phoenix…”

Phoenix felt his breath catch in his throat. There was… there was nothing more he could do to help.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked, tears stinging at his eyes. “I’m sorry, Miles.”

“Please don’... don’t hurt my… don’t… father…”

Phoenix tucked his head into his chest, fighting back tears. He couldn’t deal with this, he needed out and he needed out now.

Miles went utterly limp and a lump formed in Phoenix’s throat, swollen and hard and nearly impossible to form words around. “Miles?” He choked, no longer comforted by the sound of Edgeworths breathing. What was once steady and even was now shallow and breathless.

No response.

His hope grew dim as the light source faded.

Night had come and what was once warm was now pale and cold.

He was shaking from the chill, clutching to Miles’ body heat like a moth to flame. The man underneath him had stopped shivering long ago.

It had been hours since Miles had passed out and he had yet to move of his own accords. Phoenix was scared for his life. If Edgeworth died in here… it would be all his fault. To make matters worse, Phoenix had accidentally reopened his cut when he had peeled off the crusty handkerchief and the wound was now bleeding freely again.

A trail of blood escaped the hold of the fabric clutched to Miles’ face and it streaked down his temple like a dark red tear.

Phoenix clenched his jaw at the sight. What he was doing wasn’t helping, he wasn’t helping, he was useless and they were both going to die because of his incompetence.

His eyes burned with malice, and his mouth contorted with the verge of tears. What happened to staying calm? Stay calm Wright, stay calm…

”Phoenix.”

Stop imagining things and relax…

”Phoenix…” A woman’s voice, calm and cool rang echoelessly inside his mind. ”You’re not imagining things.”

Phoenix froze, holding his breath.

That voice… could it really be..?

“M-Mia?” He gasped as hot tears spilt over his cheeks. Maya must be channeling her late sisters thoughts somehow, meaning… the medium had to be close by.

Mia’s huff of laughter was the best thing Phoenix had ever heard. ”Hold on just a little bit longer, Phoenix. They’re close, they’re so, so close.”

Phoenix had never cried so hard in his life. Rescue was coming, they were going to make it.

He patted Edgeworth on the shoulder, “Did you hear that, Miles? We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna get out of here, just like I promised!”

Only… Miles…

He wasn’t breathing.

Phoenix’s world came crashing down in a sick mockery of the courthouse walls as adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream and he yanked his ankle free of the rubble with a sickening crunch. He would’ve screamed if he had felt the pain.

But his mind was solely focused on Miles laying stiff on the floor.

“No!” His throat was raw with emotion as he placed his ear against Edgeworths still chest, barely feeling any relief when the delayed beat of his heart registered in his mind. “No, no, please god, no!”

Frantically he hovered his hands over Miles’ chest and head, scanning the ground for any sort of clue as to what to do next.

“What do I do, Mia, what do I do?!” He screamed into the darkness but the woman had vanished back into the realm of the dead. “Oh god Miles, not now, please!”

Miles' features were peaceful, creases and worry lines gone into the night and Phoenix punched his chest with a newfound hatred for the man.

“Don’t you do this to me, don’t you leave me now after everything we’ve been through!” Phoenix screamed as he shook Edgeworths shoulders, watching his head turn bonelessly from side to side.

Phoenix settled a bloody hand on the side of Miles’ face as he steadied himself and realized what he needed to do.

With one final deep inhale, Phoenix steeled his mind and pressed his lips to Miles.

The kiss of life.

Plugging Edgeworths nose and transferring his air into the prosecutor's lungs, Phoenix pulled back to breathe again before diving back down.

“Come on you stupid idiot, breathe!”

Again and again he forced his oxygen into Miles’ unresponsive body, crying and panting and begging and dizzy with exhaustion until

Someone

Grabbed

His

Shoulder.

“Sir, sir! Can you hear me sir?” A man hollered from above.

Phoenix whipped around, mouth agape with shock. “Ye-yes! I’m here, we’re down here!”

“Okay sir, just hang on a minute, we’re gonna get you out in a jiffy.” The man retracted his hand with a “Hey tell that weird girl she was right, there are people trapped under the prosecutors bench!”

Phoenix sobbed openly as he rocked Edgeworth in his arms. “They’re here, they’re going to help us, Miles… everything is going to be okay.”

But everything wasn’t okay.

Miles still wasn’t breathing.

The rubble cleared above and gentle hands reached inside and began to pull him free from the wreckage.

“No, no!” He cried, delirious from pain and terror as he was broken free of his temporary prison, “help him, help him please…”

The hands laid him down on a stretcher that was set on the floor. He went willingly as someone jumped into the hole in his absence.

“Hey we need a medic over here! This ones not breathing!”

Phoenix closed his eyes, tears still flowing freely. Edgeworth was going to die and it was all his fault. He couldn’t save him, he couldn’t save anybody.

Slender fingers entwined with his own. “Nick?” Someone asked, hesitant.

Phoenix opened his eyes.

Maya.

“Ed- Edgeworth…” He opened his mouth to speak but she quieted him with a finger to his lips.

“Mia wanted me to tell you that Mr. Edgeworth will be okay. He’s hurt bad, but he’s gonna make it...” She paused for a moment as a medic bustled over and fastened an oxygen mask over Phoenix's face. “His spirit is strongly tethered to this plane. He won’t die. Not today.”

Phoenix choked on a sob as he clutched Mayas hand in his own. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever been so emotional but then again, he’d never been buried alive before.

Over Mayas shoulder he could see Edgeworth being fastened to a stretcher identical to his own and he let his eyes flutter close as Gumshoe appeared at his side and they wheeled him away.

He trusted Mia with all his soul.

Phoenix’s own stretcher was lifted and began to roll and Maya kept pace beside him as he was loaded into the back of an ambulance. “You did good, Nick, you did good.” She whispered consolations to him as the air in his mask turned sweet.

“Everything’s gonna be okay…”

The world began to turn circles around him and Phoenix felt his body relax into the cushions underneath him.

“You can rest now.”

And rest he did.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright ace attorney #ace attorney fanfiction #phoenix wright fan fiction #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #narumitsu fanfiction #narumitsu #wrightworth fanfiction #wrightworth #buried alive prompt #whump fic #tw: blood #tw: head injury #tw: ptsd #tw: panic attacks

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

lame

08.

where do we go from here

“Dorms, huh?”

“Yes,” nodded the green-haired boy, staring at his drink – affogato that you prepared. “it’s to ensure the safety of the students tenfold, considering the recent events.”

Nodding, eyes watched the scars on Izuku’s gentle hands – from when he was trying to figure out his quirk, trailing up to the burn he keeps hidden on his left arm – one caused by someone.

“I can imagine Auntie Inko wasn’t overboard with the idea?”

Izuku shifted in his seat, fingers stirring the straw of his drink. “She wanted me to transfer, because of how much I’ve been through…”

“I can’t blame her,” you nod again – there was USJ, and then there was this. “then again, it was something you couldn’t control and not really the school’s fault.”

“It’s what I told her, but she was adamant on keeping me safe. She’s a mom, after all.” That made you smile, Auntie Inko was really protective of Izuku ever since Uncle Hisashi worked abroad.

“A-Also, A-All Might convinced her,”

(E/c) eyes widened. “W-Wow…”

The All Might was at Izuku’s? Informing Auntie Inko of the dorm system and convincing her to have his apprentice stay at UA?

Izuku must be that special for the Symbol of Peace, his biggest idol, to keep him in UA.

“That’s amazing, Izuku.” Scoffing, you broke into an easy grin. “Isn’t that great, you get to stay in UA, got convinced to stay by the All Might, and you still have a chance to live his legacy.”

“(N-Nickname)!” With your praises, red flushes his cheeks and his arms flounder in the air, much to your amusement, before they ended up wrapped around his head protectively.

Everything changing again, huh?

With the dorms, students of UA will be granted and ensured of their safety as they’ll be living within the school’s premise. Really, they were doing so much just to give their students, future heroes, the very best that they deserve.

Still, it would be kind of lonely to have Izuku away.

Carmine eyes suddenly crossed your mind. The soft look on his face. The smell of burnt sugar. His warm rough hands.

“Neh, Izuku,” arms stretched out, head dropping down, your voice was quiet. “how is he?”

Drink long gone, he swallowed the sweet concoction down his throat, relishing in its sweetness and bitterness. He studied you for a bit, noting the glint in your eyes, how it was much different from before whenever Kacchan brought up.

Tapping his fingers, he carefully shared. “For starters, he’s safe. But somehow, he’s the same as ever.” Fingers twitched slightly at that, curling in slowly. “That much I can tell.” Brows furrowing slightly, especially when you recalled the relief in those carmine eyes, with something else.

The League of Villains.

They kidnapped Bakugou because he was top of their class, an easy target to play with considering his rather volatile streak that might bode well with villains.

“League of Villains,” you try, testing the weight of the villain group in your mouth. Izuku fell silent.

You didn’t like it. It felt dangerous, bitter, terrifying-

“I-It’s about your parents…”

Releasing a shuddering breath, you slumped into the table, forcing the numbing thoughts away. That is until a hand wrapped over yours, giving a gentle squeeze. You squeezed back, as thanks.

“(Nickname),” at the call of your name, you look up, meeting gentle green – brighter than emeralds, opals, more soothing that viridian or moss. “when you get the chance, talk to Kacchan. Okay?”

Carmine eyes crossed your mind again, the shocked expression turning gentle. Burnt sugar filling your senses. The fluttering beating of his heart.

“Little did you know, I’ve already had one.”

He hummed. “Yes, but you know what I’m talking about.” He says kindly, almost teasingly. You rolled your eyes at that.

“By the way,” recovering, you sat up, hands still in his. “you’re currently working on your ultimate move, right?” he nods “Well, need some help with that?”

Puzzled, it took about a few seconds until the questions sank. “Y-You don’t mean…!?”

Giggling, toothily grinning at your best friend, your eyes flashed yellow. “I might not look like much, but at least I can give a few pointers and wisdom. Also, I hope you’re okay with extra hours- “

“Of course! I’ll be in your care, (Nickname)!” he replies almost immediately, face filled with so much excitement to finally see you use your quirk at its full potential.

Mentally thinking of the days you’re not working, but hey, this was all for a good cause. “Looking forward to it, Izuku~”

Taking a break from work, you felt your phone vibrate, seeing a text from Izuku.

To: (Nickname)

From: Izuku

[image.txt]

I PASSED MY PROVISIONAL LICENSE!!!!!!!!!!!

You couldn’t help the smile breaking on your lips, threatening to split your face in half from sheer joy and pride for your best friend. He did it!

All those days mastering his Shoot Style while dealing with your rather whimsical and unpredictable fighting really paid off!

From: (Nickname)

To: Izuku

Congrats, you!

I’m so fcking proud of you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Let’s celebrate, okay? Just drop by the café!

You were tempted to ask if Bakugou had passed as well, debating even to give him a text. Fingers tapped lighting through your contacts, scrolling to find his name, staring. Just staring.

Shaking hands fisting against his shirt, nose buried between his shoulder blades, taking in his scent- You locked your phone, exhaling through your nose as you closed your eyes.

“You’re being unfair to him, (Nickname).”

Just then an unknown number called you.

It had been All Might.

All Might.

The Symbol of Peace.

He had called you, urging you to come to the UA campus at the dead of night for something he wouldn’t enclose over the phone. The hero had managed to work things out for your entry into the premise, albeit, discreetly, since it’s past working hours after all.

“So, you’re Young Midoriya’s good friend, yes?” the said hero was tall, so freaking tall! Even in his skeletal form, he loomed over you like a skyscraper, and his voice was commanding, firm, yet kind.

Remembering he had asked you a question, you fumbled for a reply. “A-Ah, yes sir!” Still, to be in his presence was something. Now you understood why Izuku fanboys hard – there were so many emotions to contain!

“I’ve heard a great deal about you, Young Midoriya speaks very highly of you.” That made you duck your head, a fond smile on your lips. “It’s clear that it is a bond forged greatly through careful means.”

“That, it is.” It was a rather poetic way of putting it, but yeah.

“With that being said, I’m sure you’re also acquainted with Young Bakugou, right?”

You nearly tripped on your own footing, halting at that, glancing up in question. “Y-Yes…” Carmine eyes, the smell of burnt sugar, warm calloused hands, suddenly filled your senses.

“In the short time that I’ve known them, I’ve also come to an understanding that the boys have a rather complicated relationship,” you gulp, for some reason. “they’re both on equal footing, yet it’s not very evident to both of them. They balance each other out perfectly.” He’s not wrong, you thought, hands curling and uncurling into fists.

“W-What are you trying to say?”

Turning to you, you realized that you reached some sort of building – it was huge, almost spanning the size of USJ! maybe it was a training ground? – the hero’s gaze wasn’t one of All Might’s, his gaze was soft, weary, understanding, guilt, and, dare you say, hopeful?

“Those boys have the makings to be a great hero, are each other’s greatest rivals yet they can be each other’s greatest ally if only pushed right.”

That was an idea you would never have thought of, but one you refused to acknowledge.

Before you could ask, suddenly, your senses went on full blast – (e/c) eyes turning yellow.

Heavy blasts from afar. Devastation followed. Heavy breathing. The smell of fire- no, angered explosions. Fully mapping out the vicinity, you found two presence were at the heart of it all. These heartbeats. Izuku? Bakugou?

“As expected, your senses indeed sharpen at night.”

Confused, angered, you turned to him, yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight. “WHY DID YOU BRING ME HERE!?” Their breathing, it was erratic, labored, abnormal, what was happening!?

He could only stare, expression betraying nothing. “I think I need to give the young boys some time to talk before I do it myself.”

“And what am I, some spectator?”

“I’m sure there’re things you would want to say to them as well, Young Yuroichi.”

Was what he said, but walking into the battlefield, having watched two of your childhood friends going out on each other, talking with their fists, kicks, and quirks, leaving bruised and battered, you could only feel one thing – numb.

With the fight over, your two childhood friends sat back on the asphalt ground, weary and exhausted out – physically and emotionally.

“Who else knows?” asked the ash blond, head hanging low with both arms propped against his knees.

“Recovery Girl, the principal, and…”

Apparently, that was your cue to make your presence known.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, the two boys raised their heads, eyes widening at the sight of you, in their campus, dead at night, eyes still in its dangerous yellow.

“A-ARE YOU TWO FUCKING KIDDING ME!?

They flinched at the volume of your voice, as though you bellowed it with all the air in your lungs, coming out from the shadows after All Might’s speech, knowing that it wasn’t your place to be there, but after hearing Bakugou’s voice – that was pathetic of him, even the hero hadn’t expected that.

“Y-Young Yoruichi-“

“Don’t,” the hero flinched at your voice, pinning him with your stare “get me started you skeletal excuse of a hero!” you say to him angrily, bitingly, forgetting that this man was the Symbol of Peace, the greatest hero of this generation, the hero who could easily do away with you, and the greatest hero to your two asshole of childhood friends.

“(N-Nickname)…”

Giving him a warning look, deadlier under the moonlight with your yellow eyes shining, Izuku knew better than to gulp and avoid your gaze. You then turned the same look to Bakugou, whose shoulders sagged underneath your gaze, a sense of defeat washing over him. He’s already bad in your book, he might’ve worsened it in this situation.

He was walking on thin ice, treading on it really should he wish to fix it.

“A-Ah, K-Kacchan just wanted to talk s’all, (Nickname)! B-but it ended up…um, uh…” words were failing him, especially when you are at the receiving end. Unamused. Unfazed. Unrelenting. Angered. Not even All Might could help out, too scared to deal with an angry teenager. “…uh…i-it ended with our fists….?”

Izuku had been quick to his defense, much to the surprise and annoyance of the blond. But you weren’t having it.

“Stop making excuses for him, Izuku. You’re better than that.” The green-haired boy flinched, hands dropping in defeat. “He should well know to defend himself instead of beating himself down for it, which is a far cry from that proud pompous asshole we’re both familiar with.” The ash blond’s fingers twitched at your words.

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled slowly out your nose. “You two haven’t had a proper talk since and you thought of doing it now with your fucking fists and kicks? What’re you, animals!?”

Having watched their fight and taking into account the months they’ve been in UA, seeing their performance during the Sports Festival, and hearing accounts of progress from Izuku, Aizawa-san, and the Bakugous, the two clearly have changed.

After all this time, you still felt so far from the two.

After all this time, it pained you still to see a drift between your best friends.

After all this time, just seeing finally talk to each other – in the shittiest way of their own version, it was all you ever wanted.

After all this time, the only thing you wanted was for them to finally see eye-to-eye.

After all this time, you just wanted the two to be friends again.

Weakly you fell to your knees, arms reaching for both and bringing them to a hug. The two boys were stunned, to say the least.

“I’m so glad.” Tears began to spill, your hold tightening. “I was worried about you two so much, you know. You two are selfish, stubborn, and terribly reckless in your own ways, but you two are the strongest persons I know.”

Izuku can be so out of reach sometimes, especially when he’s trying to embody himself as the current One for All user.

Bakugou had always been so far from your reach, but it pains you to know that he had been feeling shitty because he didn’t know just how to deal with his emotions.

It made you feel like the worst friend.

“You have to be more honest with how you’re feeling,”

You say you wanted to support Izuku? Part of the deal was respecting his wishes when it came to a certain ash blond he’s admired next to All Might, the person who was the embodiment of victory for him, someone he’d like to catch up with.

But you let confusing emotions – like a stupid crush and hate, cloud over your judgments.

“I’m sorry if I won’t be able to understand if I’ll have to beat it outta you guys, i-if…” hiccupping, your hold slackened momentarily, before tightening. “I’m sorry if I’m such a horrible friend. I’ll try to do more, be better for you guys. So please, don’t ever forget that…okay?”

“(Nickname)…”

A tentative hand reached out, hesitant as it patted your back. Seeing as you didn’t flinch away, the hand awkwardly rubbed comforting circles as you cried harder.

Seeing this, the green-haired teen smiled, relishing in your hug, the pain from Kacchan’s attacks, and the wisdom from his mentor.

“Okay.”

All Might could only watch three youngsters settling amongst themselves, as all friends should.

“Okay, (Name).”

masterlist • nine

#lame #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bakugou katsuki angst #bakugou katsuki angst fic #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha angst #bnha fic #bnha angst fic #mha #mha x reader #mha fic #mha angst #mha angst fic

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undercoveravenger · 4 years

Text

A Blessing or A Curse

Pairings: Percy x male!reader, Nico x male!reader, Leo x male!reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Percy , Nico , Will and Leo with a bf been cursed by god form another pantheon . He looks like a male version of the villain cheetah in DC , because of the curse he is forced to eat constantly but in the comics Cheetah eats human flesh. In here monsters literally everywhere and he just hunt them to eat :) just imagine a tiny mortal run after a Minotaur”

A/N: I know absolutely nothing about Cheetah, so this is just kind of a guess at something similarish. Unfortunately, I don’t write for Will since I don’t know his personality well (I haven’t read the Trials of Apollo series yet) but here’s how I think this would go down otherwise!

__________________________________________________________

Quests had always been treated like a big deal at Camp Half-Blood, so getting to go on one with your boyfriend of all people made it feel even more special. Sure, there were still a few things that made it a little stressful (namely, hiding your big secret and random monster attacks), but you were still excited to spend this much time together.

Then the minotaur showed up and trapped the two of you in an old warehouse. The two of you had faced monsters together before, but this was stronger than the few cyclops you’d come across so far. You’d been able to defeat those pretty easily, but at some point during the fight, you had been disarmed and your boyfriend had been pinned under a large metal girder that the monster had knocked loose. Now you were left with no choice but to use your gift to save your boyfriend.

You ducked in front of your boyfriend as the minotaur swung at him, closing your eyes as you braced for impact. Your boyfriend let out a shout, expecting you to be crushed by the minotaur’s heavy fist. He let out a stunned sound when the monster’s blow connected, but didn’t do so much as shift your footing.

The minotaur seemed nearly as confused, letting out a questioning bellow. It stumbled back a step when your eyes blinked open, revealing that they’d shifted to a molten gold color and your pupils had turned slitted, like a cat’s. A wild array of glowing spots flickered to life down your arms and across your shoulders, mostly hidden by your orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. Your hands flexed as your fingernails lengthened into razor-like claws.

The minotaur, while confused about your sudden transformation, was not about to pass up the chance to try and put an end to a pair of demigods, so it let out another bellow and charged at you.

You let out an answering growl, shifting your stance and reaching up to grab onto its horns as it got within reach, using your newly revealed strength to stop it in its tracks. You wrenched the monster’s head to one side using your grip on its horn with one hand while you dug the claws of the other through the bull’s thick skin and scored deep gashes down its side, golden ichor running down in thick rivulets to pool on the floor.

“You made a mistake going after him,” you snarled, stalking after the wounded monster. “And you’re going to pay for it.”

You made quick work of the minotaur after that, not ceasing in your devastating attacks until only a small pile of golden dust was all that was left of it. Then, as soon as you’d ensured there were no more threats, you moved to lift the debris that kept your boyfriend trapped. Once he had slipped out from underneath the girder, you let the heavy metal piece drop to the floor with a loud clang.

You turned to look at your boyfriend, nervous about what he’d say as your eyes returned to their normal (e/c) shade and the glowing spots faded from view. “I can explain,'' you said quietly,” all hints of your previous growling tone absent now as you looked at him.

----------

Percy

Percy’s beautiful sea-green eyes were narrowed as he watched you, like he was expecting you to transform again. “Have you always been able to do this?”

You nodded slowly, lifting your hands into the air to show him that you meant no harm. “Yes,” you replied evenly. “One of my ancestors was cursed by Dionysus to become a monster whenever they got angry. The curse was passed down through the generations, and I guess we just got better at controlling it.”

Your boyfriend watched you hesitantly for a moment, but eventually he nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You repeated, surprised at how easily he seemed to accept your explanation.

He nodded, his typical grin finally reappearing, “Yeah. The way I see it, if you were able to do this the whole time, then there’s really no change. You’re still the same guy I fell in love with.”

You moved to wrap him in your arms, pressing your face against his shoulder to hide your relieved smile as you hugged him. You’d never expected him to take the news this well, or well at all, but in that moment, you were reminded just how much you loved Percy Jackson.

----------

Nico

Nico’s dark chocolate eyes had hardened as he watched you, the warm smile that he reserved specifically for you gone from his face. “What are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?” he hissed as he drew his sword, limping slightly as he advanced on you.

You backed away, ducking out of the way as he slashed at you, “Nico, it’s me!” you protested weakly, still doing your best to stay out of his range.

“I don’t believe you!” he bit out, swinging at you furiously, “(M/N) would’ve told me if he was-” he paused, hesitating a little as your back collided with the wall behind you. “If he was whatever you are.”

You nodded slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his pleadingly, “I should have, Nico,” you started, voice soft and quiet, speaking the same way you always did when Nico slipped into your cabin in the middle of the night after being woken up by nightmares. “I should’ve told you. I almost did a million times, but then I was scared that you’d tell me you never wanted to see me again and I couldn’t-” You swallowed hard, gaze finally falling away from Nico’s to lock onto your own reflection in his blade, “I can’t lose you, sweetheart. I love you too much.”

You closed your eyes, knowing that the odds that Nico would think you were just some monster lying to him were still all too real, but also knowing that you wouldn’t be able to take seeing him as he dealt the final blow.

The loud clang of a sword hitting the concrete flooring and a warm weight hitting you were enough to shock them back open. It took you a moment to realize what was happening, but then you wrapped your arms firmly around your boyfriend and held him close, smiling widely when he murmured that he loved you too, no matter what other secrets you might have.

----------

Leo

Leo’s eyes were wide as he stared at you, watching with a rapt sort of attention as your transformation ebbed away. “Dude,” he murmured, eyes flickering from yours back down to where your spots had been. “Duuude,” he said again.

“Are you going to call me a monster?” You asked softly, unable to bear the lack of reaction any longer.

Leo’s brows furrowed as he shook himself out of his shock, “What?! Of course not! That was so cool!”

You were a little taken aback as your boyfriend bounded over to you, his typical elfish grin even wider than normal. “You thought that was cool?” you asked incredulously.

“Totally!” Leo nodded, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek, “You were like my own personal superhero!”

You let out a chuckle, wrapping your arms around his waist and tugging him into an embrace. Really, you should have known that Leo would take it well; after all, he always told you that he loved everything about you, no matter what.

#male!reader x percy jackson #male reader x percy jackson #male!reader x nico di angelo #male reader x nico di angelo #male!reader x leo valdez #male reader x leo valdez #male!reader x pjo #male reader x pjo #male!reader x hoo #male reader x hoo #male!reader insert #male reader insert #male reader x #male!reader x #male reader #male!reader

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dragonseattofu · 3 years

Text

Spaces Between My Fingers (NEO TWEWY fanfiction)

Summary: Neshiki NEO reunion. NEO TWEWY spoilers. Everyday for two years after Neku’s disappearance, Shiki sits behind Hachiko talking to what looks like herself, her hand securely in another that she can feel but can’t see. Warnings for depression and panic attacks. Check source content for Ao3 link.

Preview:

“Great work on the presentation Misaki-san!”

“Excellent job as always Misaki-san! Have a wonderful evening!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Shiki smiled and nodded at the outpouring of compliments from her staff as they filed out of the conference room. It was her last meeting of the day, and she was exhausted. Never in a million years could she have imagined being the youngest CEO of any clothing company, much less her own brand at the age of eighteen. But, being young didn’t make the responsibilities of a trending brand owner any less tiring. On the bright side, the remainder of the evening was all hers to spend at her own pace.

With that in mind, Shiki gathered her laptop and papers under her arm, turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. She retrieved her messenger bag from the coat rack in her office, pulled the keys from the front pocket, and said a habitual goodnight into the empty space before locking the office for the night.

The soft tapping of rubber on carpet filled the empty hallway on her way to the elevator, the sounds of mindess instrumental music soothed her tired nerves on her voyage down from the eight floor. Slow clicking of gears moving, and the opening the heavy metal doors woke her from her stupor, gesturing light apologies on her way out as more bodies piled into the elevator.

Fresh air filled her lungs as she finally reached the ground level, going westward toward the neighborhood coffee shop where she’s a regular, and the barista started mixing her drink before she could even fish out her wallet. Condensation on the side of the plastic cup collected at her fingertips, leaving a wet smudge on the door as she exited, her sneakered shoes guiding her in the direction of a statue, faithfully waiting for his master that will never come.

Shiki takes a seat behind Hachiko, and looks down at her watch. 19:01. She chuckles, she’s a minute late. She pops an earbud in her ear, and rests her right hand, palm up, on the side of the seat next to her, and waits. She takes another sip of her drink, licking her lips, savoring the overly sweet beverage on the verge of crystallization.

A couple walks by talking about dinner plans, and a group of female students discussing Prince’s recent social media posts pass by as well. A shiba stops in front of her, tilting its head to the side for a brief moment, almost as if he sees something that others can’t, before his owner tugs him along.

Her breath catches and she waits for a split second before she feels a slight shift in the wind around her, an even lighter pressure on her palm. She exhaled, relishing the feel of the spaces between her fingers filling, and she smiled.

“So, I had another productive meeting today....”

She speaks for about an hour into the wind about how her day went, what her last conversation with Eri was like, even about her new not inanimate pet, Mrs. Mew. From afar, most people think she’s talking to herself, those closer assume she’s on the phone. Little do they know that they are both wrong, but that hasn’t stopped her from coming to Hachiko everyday, and speaking into the void as if she’s carrying on a conversation with a long lost friend.

She’s not exactly sure when she started doing this, but it became her way of, well, grieving. After a couple months of blissful dating, getting to know one another outside the confines of a death game, she had sort of … fallen in love.

Only for that love to be suddenly ripped from her with nothing left but a note, from a not so helpful composer. The first couple of days were devastating, she didn’t leave her bed, she wouldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The weeks thereafter weren’t much better. Eri, and Rhyme were constantly by her side, making sure she didn’t end up in the hospital for malnuritionment. Beat showed up soon after to smack some sense into her, mostly figuratively.

Beat slammed open her bedroom door, Eri and Rhyme trailing behind yelling at him to calm down. His usual sympathetic expression was replaced with one of impatience and frustration.

“Shiki, enough of this. Get up and go eat somethin’!”

An empty gaze was his only response. He growled, stomping into her room and ripped open the curtains, beams of sunlight showering her floor, her bed, her listless face. In the light he could see that she lost a significant amount of weight in such a short period of time. She was already lean before, now her face began to look sunken in from the starvation and constant darkness. Beat suddenly felt another overwhelming wave of emotion sweep over him.

“This is ridiculous, girl, ya can’t keep goin’ like this or you’ll…” He choked up; he didn’t complete his thought; he just couldn’t. Rhyme and Eri lunged forward to try and hold back the blonde as he grabbed Shiki by the front of her shirt, pulling their faces closer, glaring at her with an intensity he didn’t think he would ever use on her.

Her world shook as droplets fell onto Shiki’s glasses. She could feel Beat shaking from his grasp, his usually clear cerulean eyes were stormy, almost like the sky had broken. A lump formed in her throat. She forgot through her heartbreak that other people might also feel the same pain she was feeling. Sure, she was his first partner, but Beat was also his partner too.

For a tense moment nobody moved, Beat stared into Shiki’s eyes hoping to get his message across wordlessly, Eri and Rhyme holding onto Beat on both sides to restrain him. She had every right to grieve and her pain was more than he could ever imagine, but Beat needed her to know that she wasn’t alone, and that he was there for her, if she would let him. He couldn’t afford to lose her before he got the chance to save him.

Ever so slowly, Shiki moved her one hand over Beat’s. She grabbed a fistful of his jersey in her other hand. For that excruciating week, she went from feeling anxious and depressed to just numb. Now she felt relieved that there was someone else who understood this persistent gnawing ache in her chest. Brotherly simpleton Beat wasn’t being sympathetic to her heartache, but rather empathetic in her mourning.

Her face started to prickle, as the wells that had dried up started to free fall again. She moved to grab Beat, nestling her head into his chest and just … cried. He rested his large hand on her head and hugged her tightly, supporting each other in this moment of catharsis. They stayed like that until Shiki passed out again.

When she came too, Beat, Eri and Rhyme stayed with her that day to make sure she consumed something.

Sometime in the afternoon, Eri decided to attack Beat to get some measurements for a pants design. Big muscular Beat hiding behind tiny Rhyme who was doing little to nothing to protect her older brother from the teen designer wielding a measuring tape going too close for comfort to his ... particular body parts. Shiki graced them all with a smile none of them saw in days.

Big brother Beat decided to have all his meals with her that day forward. Eri said that she could handle this, and found him to be a nuisance, but he didn’t care. Slowly Shiki’s appetite and strength returned, more places ventured outward, even the whirling of her bobbins clicking could be heard throughout the house.

Everytime she had a relapse, a brief moment of chest-tightening, her breath catching, she’d reach out and Beat would be there, embracing her until the panic attack subsided.

With her good days and her bad days, Shiki decided to go back to school after taking a month of absence. Eri got her back into the sewing club, pelting her with designs to keep her busy. The distraction was helpful, almost becoming necessary.

Sometimes she’d go to the skate park, sitting on the bench watching Beat and Rhyme do ollies in front of a setting sun. She would sketch out pieces inspired by the skaters, a little black cat signature adorning each one. Rhyme uploaded some of her designs and completed outfits on a popular social media platform, and named it Gatto Nero with her permission. Sooner than later, Shiki had a following of over one thousand, then five, then over ten approaching twenty. It also helped that her best friend was an influencer and modeled everything Shiki made.

Before anyone knew it, Shiki was approached by the founder of Jupiter of the Monkey, who was impressed by her work, and offered her an intern position while she was still in school. With more tasks to keep her busy, everyday slipped by faster and faster, and the relapses became more infrequent.

A year had passed since his disappearance, and Shiki never really forgot, more so distracted herself with other things to keep her busy on a day like today. After classes, Shiki would go to her internship to work on a couple of assignments and with her last meeting with her supervisor over, she headed out to catch the train home.

She slowed her pace down when she passed the 104 building, mindlessly loitering near the window displays to check out the trends. The Scramble Crossing was busy as usual, and she found herself wandering closer and closer to the statue of Hachiko.

Shiki stared at the bronze canine, her mind drifting to the promise she made quite a long time ago. Realizing she wasn’t in a rush to go home anyway, she took a seat behind the statue.

“Well Neku,” she hesitated, having not uttered his name in almost a year, “it looks like I didn’t keep my promise to be here everyday waiting for you to come back.”

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.” She could feel her anxiety bubble in her throat, like digging at a wound that had scabbed over and was threatening to bleed out again. Thinking of him was painful, but she realized then that they did have a lot of memories, wonderful, happy memories that she had forgotten in her grief. Memories that were hers to hold onto for as long as she wanted them. Shiki could feel her heartbeat slowing down, the tension in her body subsiding ever so slightly.

“I hope that you’re alright somewhere out there,” she said into the open space in front of her, “I-I miss you.”

Just then a slight touch graced her hands on her lap, but when she looked up, no one was there. The ticking of the crosswalk signs, the pattering of shoes on asphalt, and the shouts of last minute sales continued on as if time and sound hadn’t stopped for a moment. Not exactly sure what she was doing, Shiki raised her hand out in front of her, and a second later, she felt a resistance, an air of familiarity filling the spaces between her fingers effortlessly.

Shiki jumped up in surprise, her bag holding Mr. Mew clattering to the floor before whispering, “...Neku?”

An invisible thumb tapped the back of her hand lightly. She couldn’t hear him, she couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. He was probably in the UG, but for some reason, she could tell he was standing right in front of her.

She sobbed, “Is that really you ---?”

“Shiki! Why ya cryin’? What happened, yo?”

The connection was lost as Beat skated up to her, visibly concerned, looking for some clue as to why his best friend was crying in public. He pulled out a crumpled cloth handkerchief from his back pocket, a gift from Rhyme that came in handy more times than he thought it would.

Shiki continued to stare at the open space, trying to make sense of what had just happened, grasping for what she thought was remnants of a lost love, but the sensation was gone. Whatever was there, it wasn’t there anymore. Even if he was in the game, she shouldn’t have been able to touch anything in the UG. Her mind raced with different jumbled thoughts. What was that? How did that happen? Why now?

“Earth to Shiki!” Beat waved his hand in front of her, successfully snapping her out of her trance.

She looked at him, accepted the handkerchief and dried her tears. Whatever that was, talking about it would only land her another session at the doctor's office. She knew Beat would believe her, but after her long painful year of recovery that he had witnessed, she doubted he would be open to the thought of dredging that wound up again.

Shiki didn’t trust her words, so instead she reached over and hugged him. Without hesitation, Beat returned the gesture. When her sobs had subsided, he gently asked, “let’s bounce?”

In an overprotective brotherly way, he kept his arm around her shoulders after retrieving her bag from the floor.

“Yeah.”

The next morning, Shiki found the day dragging on. She was on autopilot at school, and her assignments at her internship were more clerical in nature, requiring very little brain power. Anything not immediately due would be tomorrow’s problem.

She rushed out of the office building, crossed the scramble and stopped in front of the metal statue. Shiki held her breath as she sat down exactly where she was yesterday. Her muscles tensed as she inhaled deeply.

“So I might be losing my mind, and everyone will think I’m crazy but if you are here, if-if you’re really still here, I’d want you to know that … I miss you Neku.”

For an agonising moment, nothing happened. She wasn’t really sure what she was hoping for. Was everything yesterday just her imagination? Was she just feeling sentimental and willed the tactile sensation into reality?

After a couple more minutes of fruitless imagination, Shiki was about to give up and leave when she felt something, no, someone, grab her hand. Frightened at the sudden contact, Shiki looked down to see that nothing was there, just the fortune lines on her open palm and her silver pinky ring. Yet someone was there, holding her hand in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. She smiled as her eyes began to water.

“It’s you isn’t it.” She said more confidently, though she felt nothing of the sort. A light tap on the back of her hand was her only affirmation.

“I have so many questions for you, but I’ll save them for when you get back. The only one I need to ask is w-will you be back?” She tentatively prodded the air metaphorically, hoping she hadn’t pressed her luck. Another light tap had her smiling once more.

“Beat’s going to kill you if you ever make it out of the UG. Rhyme’s not going to stop him. Eri hates your guts for leaving me.” She chuckled at that. She felt her hand move slightly, almost as if he sat down next to her. He brushed his unseen thumb over her knuckles.

A couple of people passing by looked at Shiki as if she wasn’t having a completely one sided conversation with herself in broad daylight. She honestly couldn’t care less. She rambled on about random things, hoping to catch him up on the entire year he had missed, only the good things because she wasn’t quite ready to talk about the bad ones. She would have continued well into the night if her phone hadn’t rang.

“Girl, why you don pick up ya phone? I’ve been tryin’ to reach ya for hours!” Beat shouted so loudly into her phone she had to remove it from her ear.

“Shiki, where are you?” the smaller girl gently inquired, seemingly having pulled her brother’s phone away from him before he crushed it, “he was about to call the police if you didn’t pick up.”

She could still feel their hands interlocked, but reluctantly replied, “I’m at Hachiko, Rhyme. Tell Beat I’ll text when I leave and get home.”

“Beat wait -- , nevermind he just left. We’ll come pick you up. Just stay there. See you soon!�� The phone line clicked.

Shiki sighed, “Beat and Rhyme are coming to get me. It won’t be long before they show up.” She paused, wondering if she could ask what has been on her mind, if the fates were on her side today.

“I’ll promise to be here, everyday, waiting for you to get back to the RG. Until then, can you promise to meet me here, everyday, until I can see you again?” She knew this went against the rules of the game, but the game had dictated her happiness for long enough. If there was any chance of being with him, invisible or otherwise, she would take it.

Her hand moved again, this time their fingers separated, but not completely. His pinky finger wrapped around her silver ring, the same one she wore during the first game, and a new promise was made as they gently shook on it.

And then he was gone. Her hand tingled from the absence of his light touch. She thought she could see faint sparkles from where she presumed he had been sitting. When the Bito siblings found her shortly after, her dazed expression had them both worried, but then a genuine smile broke out on her face as she proposed they go have a light dinner before heading home. Rhyme and Beat looked at each other, communicating through their eyes that they had no idea what had happened, but were glad Shiki’s original spark had finally showed up all the same.

That had been two years ago, and everyday of those two years Shiki spent pretending to talk to someone on the phone instead of an apparition. Everyday for two years of updating his shadow on her daily life routine and not being able to ask him how his day went. This arrangement wasn’t perfect, but just knowing that he was alive, even if they were on separate planes, meant that there was hope she would see him again. Even as the weeks went to months, and months went to years, everyday, he would faithfully show up, and they would hold hands just to exist together behind the symbol of loyalty and patience.

“Tomorrow’s my big collaboration presentation to the executives of Jupiter. Eri and Rhyme are going to be there. We could honestly all use the distraction after what happened with Beat. Please look out for him in the UG? Times like this I really wonder what’s going on with the game now and how many people I have to lose to it before it’s satisfied…”

About two weeks ago, Beat magically disappeared. Shiki was going to his classroom to invite him to lunch with her and Eri when she saw a student in his class hand Beat a pin of some sort. They were trending for a while now, but they reminded Shiki too much of the game to want one for herself. Trauma, bad luck, she wasn’t really sure, but she wanted no part in it.

When the student handed it to Beat though, he vanished into thin air. She dropped her bento and unceremoniously ran into the classroom. Shiki demanded what just happened, when Beat’s classmate just looked at her, his eyes dilated for a second, returned back to normal, and looked surprised. She again pressed on for an answer, to which the student had no idea who or what she was talking about.

It was almost as if Beat’s entire existence was … erased. When she realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she ran to the first year classrooms and shouted for Rhyme. Shiki couldn’t imagine why this was happening again. She finally was able to talk to Neku again and now her pseudo brother, Beat, was missing.

Despite the inner turmoil she was feeling, Shiki had enough sense that day to ask Neku if he’d seen or heard from Beat. It was difficult to communicate when the only responses she got were taps on her hand but she managed to find out that Beat was indeed in the UG, even if Neku hadn’t seen him personally yet. Rhyme had a look in her eyes, almost as if she was looking beyond the plane of the RG and was preparing her next move. Rhyme said not to worry, she was going to track down her brother down one way or another.

For the past two weeks, Shiki had a few depressive relapses. Even though she had her coping mechanisms, her rock was gone. Rhyme was working on her military grade computer system to find Beat in the UG, and Eri helped keep her distracted with work. But it wasn’t the same. It helped that Neku was there for her everyday though, like today.

“Well that's all I have for now. Please keep on eye out for the skaterbrain, and wish me luck on my presentation,” she felt a tap on the back of her hand, “till tomorrow.”

As predicted, Shiki was a ball of nerves during her presentation, but she warmed up at least a quarter way through. It helped that she knew most of the execs from her internship days at Jupiter, and were impressed with her work. The collaboration looked promising for the coming days. Eri and Rhyme, both of her founding Gatto Nero board members, ushered her to leave for her date while they settled some details, promising to meet up with her afterward. She felt like she was on top of the world after that meeting, and was bouncing happily to the coffee shop to grab her customary celebratory drink before heading to Hachiko.

What she saw standing behind the statue made her drop her drink and had her flying across the scramble. She barreled into the boy, causing his headphones to fall into his hood. He took a step back to steady them both before bringing his arms around her.

“Hey Shik’s, did ya miss me tha much?” the blond boy flashed a mischievous grin.

“You idiot! I’m so mad at you! I’m going to sew your feet to the ground if you ever do that again!” Shiki screamed at him, throwing fists into his lean chest to demonstrate how mad she really wasn’t.

“Gah girl, when did ya get so strong?” Beat shrieked, trying to hug her again to stop her from hitting him.

“I missed ya too, now stop hittin’ me yo!” She pouted as she squeezed him tight. She had gotten so used to his hugs, she really missed them.

“I got a surprise fo ya.” He pulled away from her so she could see who was behind him.

She stopped breathing. It was like her lungs and heart decided to shut down at the same time, leaving her body to scramble on how to save the rest of her. Her hands tingled from the lack of oxygen as she stared at his face, the one that had matured, but never really changed after three years. He sported his boyish smile, not hidden behind a collar, the ones she admittedly had forgotten about but made her stomach flutter all the same.

“Hey Stalker.”

She could tell that he was nervous, the same nervous energy he had when they started dating years ago. Shiki had dreamed about what their reunion would be like, what she would do when it happened, what she imagined he would say. It wasn’t that, and she wanted to punch him for it if she could just MOVE.

But she felt paralyzed, and he was getting even more nervous from the silent treatment. There were a couple of people she didn’t recognize around them, but all she saw was Neku.

Growing impatient, Beat slapped Neku on the back so hard he fell forward, catching his balance before he could fall into Shiki. When he was close enough she reached out and grabbed his hand, with all the familiarity she had gotten used to for two years. Then he tenderly touched her face, wiping away her tears.

“I’m home.” He said gently.

She managed to mutter, “welcome home,” before he sealed his promise with a kiss she had been waiting too long to return.

OMAKE

“Phones get a room bro! We got kids ‘ere!”

“Yeah Neku-san get some!”

“We aren’t that much younger than you”

“I believe that I am older than all of you. And with that I bid you all farewell as I am in jeopardy of major spoilers. I must get the new EleStra DLC immediately!”

“Boss, wait, we got to celebrate our victory, come back!”

Notes: Full disclaimer, I haven’t finished TWEWY NEO yet, I’m starting the third week now. I’ve spoiled myself, so I sort of know what happens, but a lot of what I do know is out of context. So take this story as you will, it might not make a whole lot of sense, and might be completely off, but I’m excited that when I do finish the game, how my headcannons will have matched up! Or don’t!

That also being said, I starved myself from reading other fanfics on the Neshiki reunion because I didn’t want it to unintentionally change my headcannon and I also wanted to write without feeling like I was copying someone else’s ideas. If my story is similar to someone else’s, it’s purely because great minds think alike. An example of convergent evolution if you will. (I will be devouring those fics very soon though).

Notes regarding the story-wise: I like found family tropes, and I wanted to make it clear that Beat and Shiki’s relationship are purely brother/sister related if I haven’t already. If you have other shipping goggles on, have at it in this judgement free zone. This story was inspired by this idea I had of Shiki sitting behind Hachiko holding hands (I love hand holding. I wrote two other fanfics about that) with Neku, who is transparent being in the UG, just smiling at her while she talks about her day even though she can’t see him. The miracles of love and friendship traverse all planes right?

Anyway, if you’ve read this far, thanks for listening to my Ted Talk and I hope you enjoyed this Neshiki food I’ve haphazardly prepared in like 7 hours.

#The world ends with you #twewy #twewy neo #neshiki #the world end with you neo #neo the world ends with you #neo twewy #shiki misaki #neku sakuraba #rhyme bito #daisukenojo bito #my post #mypost #myfanfiction #my fanfiction #myfanfic #my fanfic

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chasing-classics · 4 years

Text

I See You, I Love You- Lexi x Reader

Pairing(s): Lexi Howard x Reader

Warning(s): language

Summary: Lexi has been in Cassie’s shadow for as long as she can remember so she’s given up on the idea that you, her best friend, could ever be interested in her. At the winter formal, you show her exactly how you feel.

A/N: Lexi Howard is a fucking saint and she deserves the absolute best! She needs more love lol

‘’What did you think of the dance?’’ you beamed, sitting down next to your best friend.

Lexi offered her signature smile, that little twinkle in her eyes shining bright and taking your breath away.

‘’You were great, as always,’’ she nodded, holding her geometry book to her chest as she smiled down at the floor.

That was typical Lexi. She and you came from two completely different worlds and personalities. You were outgoing, the class clown and the life of every party. Lexi was the bookworm, the quiet girl with the heart of gold. And you loved her more than anything in this world. You had become fast friends with the Howard sisters, Cassie and you had similar interests and personalities so you two clicked immediately in elementary school. Nearly everyday after school was spent at your house or at the mall growing up. You easily considered Cassie one of your best friends, but it had been Lexi you had fallen in love with.

Unbeknownst to you, Lexi had fallen just as hard. She remembered feeling something different towards you growing up, but watching all of the attention Cass would get from guys and the pressure from her mother to ‘’bag a man’’ made it difficult to come forward with her feelings towards you. It wasn’t like her mom was homophobic or anything, and she absolutely adored you and was charmed by your witty humor, but she had always been in her sister’s shadow for as long as she could remember. How could she suddenly, after ten years of friendship, come clean about her feelings towards one of her closest friends? How could she possibly jeopardize that, when she was so used to being second-best to Cass? How could you ever see her more than what she was; plain-Jane Lexi.

‘’Are you going to the formal tonight?’’ you playfully bumped her shoulder with yours as you two took your time walking to your car.

‘’Yeah, want to pick me up?’’ she smiled, tucking a tendril of wavy brown hair behind her ear.

‘’Abso-fucking-lutely,’’ you grinned, opening the car door for her.

This was it, this was going to be the night you were going to confess your feelings to Lexi. After you had chickened out about asking her to the formal, Maddy, BB, Kat, and Cass all gave you the stern pep-talk you so desperately needed. ‘So are you just going to wait around until some loser makes a move on her?’ Maddy scoffed. Your eyes furrowed in both jealousy and protectiveness. ‘It’s true, I saw Chris Rivas talking to her in P.E today,’ BB added, taking a hit of her vape. You clenched your jaw at the thought of that meat head anywhere near Lexi. Cassie grabbed your hand encouragingly, a small smile on her glossy lips. ‘She likes you back, y/n. Just. . .just tell her how you feel.’ And so you were. As you walked up to the porch of the Howards’ house, makeup done to your liking and your dress looked absolutely stunning.

‘’Y/N! Oh honey you look stunning,’’ Miss Howards exclaimed, the typical half-empty wine glass in her hands. You smiled, giving her a hug as she welcomed you inside. Cassie came down the stairs first, dressed in a simple but elegant blue gown. You squealed and hugged your best friend, the two of you trading compliments and joy.

‘’Oh my gosh, Lex,’’ Miss Howards’ voice broke the two of you apart, you turning around to look up the stairs. Your jaw dropped and you swore your heart actually stopped beating for a few seconds.

She was beautiful. She looked like a princess, only better. She had an embarrassed smile on her face, her cheeks quickly turning into a rosy pink color. You smiled when you noticed her nose crinkle up, the same way she always did whenever she was embarrassed.

‘’You look beautiful,’’ was all you could manage to get out, still in a daze. She laughed a bit, looking down at the ground. Neither of you noticed the knowing smile on Cassie and Miss Howards’ face.

‘’Take good care of my daughter, y/n,’’ she called out as the three of you flooded into your car. You gave her a cheeky grin, nodding as you made sure Lex and Cass were buckled up.

‘’Always!’’ you called out, watching the older woman put her wine glass away to wave to you three.

The gym was packed, sweaty bodies were dancing and grinding in every which way you could imagine. You were currently sitting at the table with the girls, smiling as Lexi played and toyed with your charm bracelet out of boredom.

‘’I’m going to go get a drink, Rue, you should come,’’ Jules announced, causing you to quirk a brow.

‘’Huh? Ohhh, Oh! Yeah! Coming,’’ Rue grinned, winking at you.

‘’I should go apologize to Ethan,’’ Kat sighed, offering you an encouraging smile.

‘’I’m going to go kick Nate’s ass, enjoy you guys,’’ Maddy sent a quick smile as she glared daggers at the Neanderthal currently fingering some random blonde on the dance floor.

‘’I’m going to suck dick,’’ BB coughed, smirking as she blew out a cloud and swayed away with some random baseball player.

‘’I’m going to watch,’’ Cassie was the last to leave, the two of you now alone in your big empty table.

‘’Well that’s weird,’’ Lexi laughed, raising an eyebrow in confusion at the dispersed group. You shrugged, smiling back at her. ‘’You still got me,’’ you offered. Lexi nodded, smiling and leaning closer to you. You felt your face flush as you realized how close you two were, and the two of you cleared your throat; praying that the other couldn’t sense how fucking nervous you both were. ‘It’s now or never,’ you relented in your head. You turned in your seat so that you completely faced Lexi, her sitting up straight as she noticed your change in attitude.

‘’Y/n? You ok?’’

‘’N-no. I mean, yes! Well, sort of. Fuck this isn’t how it was supposed to start,’’ you huffed, pinching your brows together in frustration. You froze when you felt Lexi’s soft hands hold yours down from your face, her eyes searching yours as if she could read your thoughts.

‘’How what was supposed to start?’’ she asked softly.

You thumbed at her hand, sighing. You looked her right in the eye, taking a gulp and trying to remember the girls’ words of encouragement.

‘’Lexi. . .I’m in love with you.’’

Her eyes widened in shock, her grip on your hands became slightly looser as your heart clamored in your chest.

‘’I’ve been in love with you since fourth grade, when you helped me the day Nate Jacobs gave me a bloody nose from that football. I loved you then, I loved you when you could barely say one fucking sentence the day you got your braces, I loved you when you told me Rue couldn’t kiss for shit, I loved you when you came over at my house in the middle of the night crying about your dad, I loved you when you made me chicken noodle soup when I was sick with the flu last summer, and I love you now. I probably always will. I love everything you do and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you without making it weird between us, because I’d hate myself if I ever lost you. . .and now I’m rambling, but. . .it’s true. . . I love you.’’

You felt your body shake as Lexi processed your words. On one hand the weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. The burden of carrying such a heavy secret had finally ceased to exist, dissipating into thin air. On the other hand, though, you were terrified of what Lexi’s reaction would be.

‘’Y/n. . .you don’t mean that.’’

You were crushed, physically deflating. ‘’W-what?’’ you whispered, trying not to allow your voice to crack. Lexi shakily sighed, eyes glossy with unshed tears as she looked at the dance floor to avert your devastated gaze.

‘’My whole life, I’ve been runner up. I’ve never been enough. Nobody has ever really seen me. And you, you’re so wonderful. You shine in a crowd, everyone loves you. Everyone sees you. And as much as I love you too. . .which I do. I fucking love you so much, I’m not enough for you. I’ll never be enough,’’ tears streamed down her pale cheeks and when you went to brush them away, Lexi sniffled and pulled away.

‘’Lex. . .I want this, I want you. Why can’t you see that?’’ you whimpered, heart breaking at the sight of her crying.

‘’Y/n, I’ve never been enough for anyone. Not my parents. Not our friends. I don’t want this to be the same,’’ she was close to sobbing as she stood up, pushing her way through the crowd toward the exit.

‘’Lexi!’’ you called out, panicking. You had come this far, confessed this much. You couldn’t let her leave feeling like this, like you didn’t see her. Without thinking, you made a bee-line for the stage, abruptly cutting off the DJ and grabbing the microphone.

‘’Hello? Sorry, sorry guys I just. . . I really need to say something,’’ you exhaled, closing your eyes momentarily to gather your courage. You opened them and right away found Lexi, stunned and tears running down her cheeks as she looked at you like you had lost your mind. At this point, you weren’t sure she was wrong.

‘’That girl over there, the one in the black dress. With the most beautiful fucking eyes and smile you’ve ever seen,’’ you started, someone moving the spotlight so that it rested on Lexi’s general direction.

‘’Yeah, that’s her. Lexi. Listen. . .I don’t know if she’ll hate me for doing this. And if you do, Lex, I understand. But the last thing I’m going to do is let you leave without showing you how much you mean to me. I’m not afraid if the whole fucking school knows it, I’ll say it to anyone who will listen. Lexi Howard is the most beautiful, the most down-to-Earth, kindest, funniest, most loyal person you’d ever hope to meet. Those are just some of the reasons I fell in love with her when we were in fourth grade. And as much as I thought I loved her back then, that’s absolutely nothing to how much I love her now,’’ tears cascaded down your cheeks, you felt the entire school looking at you but all you focused on was Lexi.

Her mouth hung open, tears still glossy in her eyes as she stood there, listening to every word you said. The shadow of a smile on her red lips.

‘’You’re worried that you’re not enough for me? Lexi. . .you are everything. I see you, I love you. And I’m not going to stop just because you’re scared. I don’t care how long it takes, I’m going to prove it to you that I’m not going anywhere,’’ you smiled through your tears. You could vaguely see her smile, hands covering her mouth soon after as she began taking small steps towards you.

You gently handed the mic back to the DJ, who you could’ve sworn was choking back a few tears of his own (whether it was from being faded or actually moved by your speech, you didn’t know) and began walking towards Lexi. Nothing around you mattered other than the girl you were walking towards. Not the whole school who was clapping and cheering, not the girls crying out of joy and merriment, not even the fact that your makeup was absolutely fucked due to your emotional outburst.

‘’Lex please don’t hate-‘’ your eyes flew open when she tackled you into a mind-blowing kiss, her hands caressing the back of your head as she crashed her lips onto yours.

You quickly kissed back, holding the side of her face as the world completely faded from your view. You didn’t know how long you stood there in the middle of the dancefloor, kissing your dream girl like it was a bad high school musical deleted scene. But you didn’t give two shits.

‘’I love you too,’’ she whispered, staring into your eyes as you held each other. You nodded, smiling as a new wave of tears threatened to escape. She smiled back, the two of you kissing and smiling, wrapped around in each other’s gentle embrace. Wrapped around in the start of your new forever.

#euphoria #lexi howard #euphoria fic #fluff #rue bennett #cassie howard #maddy perez #euphoria hbo #lexi euphoria #maude apatow

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