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darkspine10 · 7 months

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GF Fanfic - Dipper and Mabel Vs. The Past

Dipper and Mabel Vs. The Past (6562 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 1/9 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: When he was 13 years old, Dipper Pines chose to hide the truth of his incredible summer adventures from his parents. Now a parent himself, he returns with his family and sister to finally face the consequences. However, none of them expect the secret to come out in quite such a magical way.

With time running out and chaotic creatures rampaging through the city, Dipper must navigate both this crisis and the fallout from his parents' discoveries, or risk losing them forever...

Chapter 1 - Frosty Reunion

Dipper Pines had a problem.

Dipper Pines had to tell a lie.

Exhausted from the bus ride, he and Mabel had been picked up at the station by their parents. Neither his mom or dad was excited by the prospect of Mabel’s new pig companion, but weren’t able to muster any defence against her persistence. It wasn’t the first time her tenacity had worn down her parents and would be far from the last.

No, Waddles wasn’t the problem. The real problem was the letter, and not the one from Dipper’s friends promising him they’d ‘see him next summer’. If he wanted any chance of that promise being fulfilled then the next few minutes would be vital.

A few weeks ago, back before the world ended, before Weirdmageddon, before all of Bill’s plans and tricks, when the twins were still reeling from the arrival of Grunkle Ford, Mabel had penned a short letter home. It detailed Ford’s arrival and general existence, something the twins’ parents had been completely in the dark about. They’d been shocked when the letter arrived - finding out a trusted family member had been lying for 30 years would disturb anyone - but what was more concerning were all the other details. A hitherto unknown twin brother was one thing, but Mabel had decided to include much more in her letter.

The letter rested on the kitchen table, with a cutesy crayon illustration of Stan and Ford holding hands and all, while Mom and Dad sat the twins down to ask the obvious questions. “Portals? Reversed gravity?” their father asked. Mom had a concerned frown, as if trying to piece together what all this meant. She’d laid out photos Mabel had provided from one of her scrapbooks - corroborating evidence for Ford’s existence. There were shots of him with Stan and kids, reclining in the Mystery Shack’s sitting room or trekking through woodland paths.

Dipper sat in silence, contemplating where he could possibly begin to explain anything about the summer. All his parents really knew was that they’d worked at the Mystery Shack with Stan, had nearly been sent home at one point before ending up staying, and then a random brother appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t like he could show his parents the journals; even if he had them here in Piedmont and not lost down a pit it was a lot to take in. He and Mabel had been on so many adventures in the past three months, adventures which had their fair share of risk and peril. The twins had each nearly died several times over. What would Mom and Dad say if they found out?

Mabel seemed ignorant of these concerns, gladly rambling about unicorns and mermaids and all sorts of out-of-context snippets. She’d never had to explain the strange events in Gravity Falls to any newcomers before, so the information flooded out of her in random anecdotes. “Then I made my hand super big with the shrink ray and socked him right in his eyeball!”

“Uh huh,” Dad muttered. Dipper knew he was unconvinced from the deep lines on his forehead. Mabel’s imagination was famously unmatched after all. But if his parents began to suspect, even for a second, that there was some truth to her wild claims then things might get tricky to explain. “I knew Uncle Stanford was a bit of a conman, but this-”

“Stanley,” Dipper said automatically, his first comment since being confronted with the letter. “Stanford is the, uh… new one.”

“Right… So Uncle Stan kept all this hidden from the family?”

Here Dipper felt on stable ground. The motivations that had split Stan and Ford apart were mundane enough for Mom and Dad to grapple with. He gladly recounted an abridged retelling of their childhood and falling out, opting to skim over the portal in favour of simple estrangement. That seemed to satisfy his father, who knew Stan personally from visiting him in his own childhood and occasional contact over the years since.

Mom however wanted more. Wanted to know why Mabel’s account included such oddities. She was about to answer, to give even more away about magic and the supernatural. Dipper finally made a choice and stepped in before she could speak. “Those were great games we had with the Grunkles, weren’t they, Mabel?”

“Uh, what are you talking about Dip-Dop, I was about to tell Mom all about when we time-travelled-”

He elbowed her in the side and fixed her with a stern gaze. Mabel pursed her lips, momentarily unsure, before giving a tiny nod. “Lots of crazy adventures, right sis, so much fun and games.”

“Uh, yeah. It was really… great,” Mabel said with a hint of doubt. Then the twins flashed a synchronised smile at their parents, made an excuse about unpacking, and ran off to their rooms.

After that day the matter of Mabel’s letter was swiftly forgotten, treated as nothing more than a flight of fancy from a girl known for her outlandish creativity, learning to cope with the upheaval of a sudden new relative. The twins seemed to have enjoyed their summer away and held nothing back when telling their parents all about exploring the forests or the new friends they’d made up north like Wendy and Soos. It didn’t need to go beyond that.

Dipper and Mabel both agreed this was for the best. Mr and Mrs Pines would live in blissful ignorance as long as it meant they could continue to visit the Falls every summer and investigate the paranormal in secret. They had no way of knowing how their parents would react to the information, so they weren’t going to risk finding out. All they had to do was keep the charade going, and lie to their parents every single day. Easy, Dipper thought. We’re the Mystery Twins. We can do anything.

Dipper Pines had a problem.

Dipper Pines wanted to tell the truth.

Turning the last corner through the darkened suburbs, Dipper slowed the car to a stop. He clutched the steering wheel and stared straight ahead at the perfectly ordinary house. A string of lights alternating in red and green illuminated the street. The glow was hypnotic.

“Dad? You ok?”

His clammy hands squeezed the wheel tighter before he let out a breath and eased them off. Turning to look at the other passengers squeezed into the back, straining the seating capacities of the Mini Cooper, he looked to his daughter waiting expectantly for him to answer.

“I’m… fine, Merrise. Just… taking a moment to process where we are.”

Sitting beside him in the front, Pacifica offered a sympathetic smile. “We made it, Mace. Like you planned. Home.”

715 Wildwood Avenue, Piedmont, California. The home of his and Mabel’s parents.

Dipper switched off the 80’s pop CD that had been blaring. His sister had insisted on having it play for most of the drive, to make it feel more like a family road trip. No one had been singing along for the last half an hour. Mabel had been reverently whispering as she pointed out familiar places from her childhood to her wife and niece - though in the darkness they weren’t able to make much out except indistinct blurs. They were all tightly packed together beside Wendy, Dipper and Pacifica’s baby daughter. Both Mabel and her partner, Zera, seemed eager to be free of the cramped space. They unbuckled their seatbelts as Dipper took a deep breath and addressed the group.

“Now I know we all want to get inside. 10 hours on the road is nobody’s idea of fun. But before we go in I want to set a few ground rules.”

“Uh oh,” Mabel groaned, “it’s the Dad Voice.”

"First: Perception filters are to be turned on at all times. I want no magic use under my parents’ roof, and no mention of the supernatural whatsoever. Am I understood?”

Silence filled the car. Mabel and Pacifica shared a glance. They recognised Dipper’s strict tone; he was in ‘adventure lecture mode’. Pacifica lightly touched his arm. “Mason, remember, this isn’t a dangerous scenario. We’re just staying with your parents for a few days.”

“Anyway,” Mabel said, climbing forwards and butting in between the couple. “I thought this meet-up was supposed to be ‘the one’.” Her eyes flicked towards the waiting house. “You know, all about finally telling Mom and Dad the truth about all our adventures?”

Dipper swallowed and puffed out his chest. “It will be, it will. But first we’ll take it slow. I haven’t visited Mom and Dad in nearly six years. It’s gonna take some time to settle back into routine. I want to introduce Merrise and Zera first in a normal context, then we can branch out to the…” He swallowed. “...Alien stuff. We don’t want to bombard them with everything right up front.”

“Do we really have to go through all this?” Zera asked. Her arms were folded and she scowled from the backseat.

Dipper scanned her appearance; she was covered in aqua scales, with a vibrant purple fin jutting out of her head. “I think we do.” he replied dryly. “Most humans aren’t used to amphibious offworlders from the planet S’aren!”

Merrise wiggled free of her seatbelt and pushed forwards. “But you always say that I should be happy with who I am. No-one else gets to judge me for that.” Her dark eyes pleaded with him to explain fully.

“That’s true, of course it is.” Dipper felt his voice rising, wanting the others to understand his point of view. He’d been working on this plan for the past month, building slowly to the point where he felt comfortable finally revealing the truth to his parents. “Look, I just want my parents to know you as people, without any prejudice. That means that certain parts of our lives have to be… understated. At least at first. After a few days we can work up to the big reveal.” He smiled shakily, failing to convince the sour faces in the rest of the car.

“Then what’s this for?” Pacifica clicked the glove box open and removed a leather-bound journal with a golden hand sigil adorning the cover. A number 3 was written on it in black ink. She flipped the book open to a random page showing a hovering ghost and held it for all to see. “This isn’t your usual late-night reading, is it hon?”

Dipper grabbed the book off her and slammed it closed against his chest. “That’s… backup.”

“For what?” Pacifica responded, her lip set in a line. “I saw the others you packed in the trunk. Every single one of the journals, yours and your Great Uncle’s.” She frowned. “They took up a lot of space, you realise. I could’ve packed a bigger wardrobe, but no, Mace has to bring his book collection.”

Dipper awkwardly laughed but Pacifica’s gaze didn’t waver. “Paz, don’t worry. I’m not planning on summoning a demon or something like that.”

“Yeah, we all figured that, bro,” Mabel said, slumped in her seat.

“When we get around to finally spilling everything then these books will be crucial. Mom and Dad can take all the time they need to learn about our lives. The lives we chose to live without them.” That got the others to listen at last. No-one could meet his gaze. It hadn’t been Dipper’s choice alone to conceal things. Mabel had been right alongside him all the way, as had Pacifica from the moment she’d been introduced to her future parents-in-law. She had her own journal stashed in the trunk, pink with a golden llama on the cover.

Dipper slid Journal 3 into his jacket. “Though we’ve gotta make sure Mom and Dad don’t read them ahead of schedule. As far as they’re concerned these are just notebooks. But if they start browsing through they might find out about the times we went out monster hunting as teens, or our death defying first summer, or the fact their granddaughter is from outer space!”

Pacifica sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “As I always tire of saying, you don’t need a multi-step plan for social interaction.”

“Forgive me for being cautious,” he replied icily. “So much of our lives is wrapped up in this stuff. Where Zera and Merrise come from. How Ford came back. What we were doing racing around the world for a whole year, and then why we dropped off the face of it for months after that. I don’t want to come off ranting like a loony street preacher when I try to explain the basic facts of how Wendy was born: Hear all about it, alien nano machines fixed my wife’s barren womb! - and that’s a totally true description of events by the way, according to Paz.”

Mabel sneered at him. “Yeesh bro, lighten up. You’re leaping straight to the worst possible outcome. Mom and Dad aren’t going to take it that badly. I thought you wanted to talk to them,” she whispered.

“I do. But I want to do it on my own terms. Can you guys do that for me?”

Pacifica took his hand in hers. “Like Mabel said, this was your idea. So if you want to take it slow… then I guess we’ll take it slow.” She reached over and kissed him. “Now let’s go inside. It’s been getting muggy in here for the past hour and a half, ever since we passed Sacramento.”

She made to open her door but Dipper spoke. “One last thing. Zera, Merrise. Can you please turn on your perception filters?”

“Will Grandma and Grandpa really hate us that much?” Merrise asked, and Dipper already felt his heart breaking. He forced out a grimace.

“No, but… look, Mom is very high strung most of the time, and Dad, he’s super down to Earth. I don’t know how they’d react, so it’s better to play this safe. So please, can we do this my way?”

Merrise reached into her backpack by her feet and retrieved a golden medallion which she slid over her head. “Alright Dad. If you say so.” The moment the medallion was around her neck, Merrise’s features began to morph before Dipper’s eyes. Her magenta skin rapidly darkened. Her new skin tone was distinct from Pacifica and the twins but still mundane enough to pass as human. Her eyes, black pupilless pits, gained sclera and shrunk.

In the back, Zera attached a triangular earring and her features similarly morphed. Her headfin became short black hair and her scaly skin took on a brown complexion. Once the effect was complete, the two appeared completely human. A second later Dipper’s eyes blurred until the pair looked as if nothing had changed, as alien as always. This was the trick of the filter, showing a disguise to anyone unaware of Zera or Merrise’s true nature but undetectable to someone familiar with their real forms. Dipper squinted and the pair switched back and forth between alien and human before settling as the latter. He’d been training his senses to try and visualise both appearances, should a mention of their altered forms come up in conversation.

“Thanks,” he said softly to the two of them. Pacifica had already stepped out and round to unbuckle Wendy from her booster seat in the back. Merrise, swathed in an overlarge jacket and wearing Dipper’s old fur hat, was prepared for the icy blast when she opened the door. On the opposite side Mabel pulled on a bobble hat and gloves before practically tumbling out onto the sidewalk.

Dipper followed her round to the trunk and checked over their crammed-in belongings before returning Journal 3 to its crate with the other volumes. He found his latest book, number 9, decorated with a golden constellation pattern. All three of Ford’s books were safely stowed - plus one with a green cover and a golden symbol melding the six-fingered hand and the circular sigil from Stan’s fez. This came from later in life, and Ford had shared it with his brother Stan when they’d sailed around the world’s oceans exploring hotspots of mystery. With six of Dipper’s own books going back to 2012, and Pacifica’s lone journal, there were eleven journals in total, brimming with forbidden knowledge. He lifted the crate down onto the asphalt and clipped the lid on tight. While the others might not see the value in bringing these to Piedmont, Dipper considered them his secret weapon, his best chance at laying out both the course of his life and the reasons why he’d kept it so obscured until now. If he couldn’t sway his parents with his words, then maybe these writings could provide something of an unbiased history.

The others were gathered around the trunk now, dumping out their bags ready to carry them inside. Mabel was struggling to heft a plastic carrier cage that had been buried amongst the clutter. “C’mon girl, time to stretch your scales.” A tongue darted in and out of the bars.

“It’s not fair,” Merrise said, turning imploringly to her father. “Mabel got to bring her pet! Why couldn’t we bring Dee? He’ll be all lonely at home.”

Dipper put an arm around Merrise as Mabel opened the cage and stroked her pet snake, Apep. “Sorry Sixer, but after all that’s happened, in the Falls and in Salem, I’m not taking any chances with Dee. I’d like to keep the home I grew up in un-flambéed.”

“Apep’s way less dangerous,” Mabel added, despite the fact that the snake could deliver a venomous bite if provoked. “We’ll have to invest in fire-proof cladding next Christmas. You ready, Z?” Zera fumbled with a bag and stood up rigid. Mabel could already guess the reason for her loss of composure, and Zera was quick to spill the beans.

“May, are you sure your parents will be ok with us? If they know so little about your life then how will they react to you showing up with a new wife?”

Mabel put an arm around her. “It’ll be fine. I already sent Mom and Dad a bunch of emails and texts telling them all about you. Well, everything except for…” She pointed skywards and winked. Zera’s apprehension faded away and she patted Mabel on the arm. “My parents aren’t evil, just ignorant about a few, small things.”

“Hey, that reminds me.” Pacifica finished pulling out a suitcase and turned on Mabel. “If we’re doing ground rules then I have one for you. I don’t want you spouting politics all week, Mabel. This is a holiday, not an opportunity for polemics about the evils of commercialism”

“Who, me?” She dumbly replied.

“Not to sound like a wanted poster, but you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to your beliefs.”

“What, you think renowned slash infamous anarchist activist May Pines can’t keep quiet about her opinions for a few days? Perish the thought?” When Pacifica was unmoved by her dramatic words Mabel chuckled. “Ah, relax sister, I’m only pulling your leg. I love this season, all the sparkly lights, the silly traditions, sharing gifts. You never had that growing up, did you?”

“I did not. Holidays don’t add much when you’re a millionaire. Anyway, we’re wasting time out here, let’s get inside. Mason, you first?”

Dipper was surprised. He hadn’t expected to be put on the spot. He supposed it made sense; it was his plan that had brought them here after all. Hefting the journal crate he walked up the path to the door of the Pines household. Colourful decorations of reindeers lined the way.

It had been Christmas the last time he’d visited too. He and Pacifica had dropped in over New Years 2024 - explicitly avoiding Mabel who’d been present the week before. That had been back in the awful period when the twins weren’t on speaking terms, a situation mercifully reversed in the present. Dipper hoped desperately that the same could soon be said about the distant relationship with his parents.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn’t realise he’d already reached the front door. He turned and saw the others all tapping their feet, waiting for him to make a move. Pacifica in particular was almost daring him to do it, to get over his anxiety. She had Wendy wrapped in her arms while Merrise clung to her hand; his daughters who’d never met their grandparents before today. He would do this for them most of all.

He placed the crate of books down and faced the door. He attempted to project confidence. This was perfectly normal. They were his parents and he was 30 years old for chrissakes, he didn’t have to worry this much. He’d faced the end of the world half a dozen times and come through stronger. He hadn’t even been this stressed on his wedding day. Marrying Pacifica was trivial compared to blowing his biggest secret, one that had defined his entire teen years, wide open. Even deciding between ringing the doorbell or knocking was a momentous dilemma. In the end he opted to knock, wanting the solid reality of the door to tether him in the present.

A few awkward seconds passed and Dipper looked back at the expectant faces of his family while he tried to stay composed. The door was pulled inwards and, staring out from beneath bushy eyebrows, Dipper’s father stood there grinning. “Dipper!”

“Hi Dad-” He was pulled into a tight embrace, reminding him where Mabel had picked up her penchant for bone–crushing hugs. He squeezed back, finding that he’d missed the feeling of such a warm closeness with his father. Released after a few seconds, he saw his mother rushing down the hallway.

“Sorry, the meatloaf’s just gone in the oven.” She lightly hugged Dipper and beamed at him.

“Don’t worry about the cooking, Mom.” Dipper said, placing a hand on each of his parents’ shoulders. “It’s great to see both of you. It’s been way too long.”

“Same to you son,” Mr Pines said. “Although, that hair?”

Dipper picked up a strand of his messy brown hair, which had recently passed the point of being a mullet and often needed tying up in a ponytail. “It fits my personality,” he said casually, almost proud of his more rugged appearance, developed in response to his adventurous lifestyle living in Gravity Falls for the past few months. He flexed a muscle jokingly to show off some of his newly developed strength. “I’m the kind of guy who can cut down a tree and pose dramatically next to it,” he said semi-seriously.

Pacifica strode in the door behind him, trailing a suitcase which she propped up by the stairs. Carrying Wendy in one arm, she handed the case over to husband and flashed a winning smile at the Pines. “Such a pleasure to see you both,” she said to Dipper’s parents with a layer of sophisticated charm he was sure only she could display. “Mary, do you need help in the kitchen?”

“Oh, well-”

“It’s no bother, I’ve already pre-made some things for Christmas dinner. I’ll take a load off your shoulders and let you have a moment with everyone.” She winked at Dipper then sashayed down the hall.

Dipper adjusted the baby in his arms, making sure Wendy was comfortable, then grimaced at his parents. “I promise she’s gotten better at cooking since last you saw her.”

“That’ll be impressive,” Mr Pines grumbled cheerily before grinning down at Dipper’s daughter. “Isn’t she a cutie.”

“Oh yeah,” Dipper said absent-mindedly. “This is Wendy.” He handed her over gently and watched his parents dote on their infant grandaughter. Their eyes lit up with love for the innocent little girl.

“Move it or lose it, bro!” Mabel shoved Dipper out of the way and into the house, carrying Apep around her neck as was usual for her but placed her snake terrifyingly close for most people. She gave a nonchalant wave then breezed straight past her parents into the adjacent sitting room. Sitting in the corner of the room was a massive pink lump of flesh which snorted at Mabel’s presence. “Waddles, my baby!”

“Of course she goes straight for the pig,” her mother chuckled.

“We know who she really cares about around here,” Dad added. Waddles, now in his 18th year, was enjoying his twilight years in peace as a sedentary pig. Of the group, Mabel had visited her parents most frequently in the last few years, making regular trips to Piemont when her activist events allowed.

“Oh yeah,” Mabel added, slapping her forehead. “Mom, Dad, this is my wife Zera!” She said it with the casual tone of introducing a new friend she’d made in the park five minutes prior.

Zera timidly smiled and entered, appearing more nervous than Dipper had ever known from the brash alien. “Hello, Mr and Mrs Pines. I, uh, hope I’m welcome.” For a split second the perception filter flickered under Dipper’s watchful gaze. Zera’s desi features vanished to show a mosaic of shimmering scales. His chest tightened, but then she returned to looking human, with his parents not giving any indication of surprise. Zera’s disguise had only wavered under his own scrutiny.

“Of course dear, come in out of the cold,” Mrs Pines said. “Mabel’s been so cagey telling us about you up until now,” she said enthusiastically, though Dipper noticed a slight narrowing of her brow. Even after all this time Mabel’s reputation for frequent romances was still something his mother was legitimately judgy about. Mr Pines on the other hand slapped her on the back and congratulated her about the wedding, saying something about finally tying his daughter down.

Zera chatted amiably for a few moments, before going to kneel beside Mabel and her pets. Apep and Waddles were snuggled close together, sleeping in the glow of a nearby Christmas tree while the couple watched on. Wendy yawned in her grandmother’s arms and Dipper took her back. “Poor little lamb’s as tuckered out as I am.” He gave a little laugh, finally starting to feel at ease.

Maybe this all wouldn’t be so bad. If Pacifica could breeze in like a socialite and Mabel still had the ability to treat everything like a harmless game, then maybe he could relax about the heavy stuff too.

“And who’s this?” his mother said. Dipper spun around. Standing out in the cold, clutching her hands together, Merrise was still lingering on the porch. She had an apprehensive expression and seemed wary about entering into the glow that covered the front porch.

“Come on Merrise, it’s ok.” Dipper took her hand and helped her step inside. “This is our other daughter. Merrise, say hello to your grandparents.”

“Um, hello.” Her eyes kept to the floor.

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s, uh, not used to social situations yet.”

“That’s alright, neither’s Mabel,” Dad said with a hearty laugh. Mabel stuck out her tongue at him, but Merrise’s grip still felt clammy in Dipper’s palm.

Mrs Pines got down on one knee to face Merrise at eye level. “Hello there dear. It’s alright, we won’t bite. Here, I’m Mary.” She offered out her hand and gingerly Merrise accepted the handshake. Mom gasped slightly. “How about that? Six fingers.” Dipper felt the shutters guarding his secrets come crashing back down inside him. Even the perception filter couldn’t hide that quirk of Merrise’s anatomy. His daughter looked like she’d been accused of something and Dipper’s heart twisted up without anything he could say to make things easier. “Well, I’m sure you’ll fit in with our family in no time,” his mother said, guiding her into the sitting room with her aunts.

“You ok, Mace?” his father said, noticing his anxious expression. “You’ll want some help unpacking I suppose. Here, I’ll take this box.”

Dad went to pick up the journal crate but Dipper’s swift reflexes cut him off. “No, I’ve got this one. Thanks Dad, you can help the girls get the rest of the stuff out of the car. We’re gonna have a great Christmas.” Dipper gritted his teeth and set off upstairs with the crate in hand, leaving his confused father behind. Inwardly he cursed. If this is how he reacted to his parents noticing one small facet of Merrise, how on Earth would he cope with the stress of revealing the existence of an entire second life? Wrapped up in internally critiquing himself, Dipper failed to notice the golden light seeping out of the crate in his arms. Something flickered between the pages of the journals, bringing light to long buried secrets.

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“This’ll be great, like a sleepover, only we’re married!” Mabel had to shout to be heard over the incessant sound of air pumping into her and Zera’s inflatable beds down in the sitting room beside Waddles’ mat. Dipper had already conked out immediately in his old bedroom, which he was sharing with Pacifica alongside a cot for Wendy. Merrise was taking Mabel’s old room, which left the couple sleeping on the floor.

Zera didn’t seem to mind, enjoying the opportunity to wander around the twins’ old home and marvel at framed photos and little souvenirs the family had collected. The mantlepiece was adorned with trinkets from the vacations the Pines had used to go on together before the twins’ first summer in Gravity Falls. Little snowglobes sat beside fridge magnets from every other museum or theme park on the West Coast. After 2012 there was a dropoff in mementos from these family trips. The twins had never quite reconnected with their mundane lives in the same way.

Mabel’s phone buzzed in the pocket of the black cat onesie she’d chosen for pyjamas. “Ooh, lemme get that. Dad, can you help Zera with the second bed?”

“You got it pumpkin,” he said, grunting as he unplugged the hose from the fully inflated airbed.

Zera watched her wife pace around, engrossed in the call with a tail flopping around behind her. She chuckled at the sight and failed to hide a small blush.

“I hope you’ve made an honest woman of my daughter,” Mr Pines said, and Zera immediately stood to attention.

“Oh, yes sir, I have,” Zera said. “No dishonesty from me, that’s for sure.” Mabel heard this and flashed a wink in her direction. Zera only blushed brighter.

Mabel put a finger in one ear, trying to drown out the sound of the pump again. “Yeah, 3 tons of the stuff. I want it delivered by the 6th. Thanks. Yeah. You too, bye.”

“What was that all about, May?” her father asked as she ended the call.

“Nothing,” she said in a highly suspicious way. “Just a little project I have planned back home for the new year. Don’t tell Dipper or Pacifica.”

He shrugged. “If you say so. Whatever you have planned, I'm sure it’ll be hard to miss.” The second airbed was ready so he started packing the pump away. “There. You two newlyweds get the finest honeymoon suite of all: the Pines family living room. Isn’t it grand?”

“Yes Mr Pines, all ship-shape around here,” Zera said, standing rigid.

He slapped his daughter-in-law on the back, taking her breath away. “Now now, there’s no need for formality. We’re all Pines here.” She relaxed her posture and went to test out the springiness of her bed. “Yes, you two don’t have to worry about anything. Over this holiday period Mary and I will make it as relaxing as humanly possible.”

“Thanks.” Zera smiled at Mabel. “I hope I make a good impression.”

“Of course my dear.” Mr Pines sidled over to Mabel and lightly nudged her in the ribs. “Although you couldn’t have married a millionaire like Dip?” he whispered

“Daaaad’” Mabel groaned, embarrassed in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

Seeing that her mood hadn’t darkened too much at the jab, he continued. “I’m just saying, your brother got extremely lucky with dear Pacifica.”

“I’m a disgraced millionaire I think you’ll find.” Pacifica stuck her head around the doorway. “Mason’s out like a light already, poor thing. That’s what ten hours of driving’ll do to you. Wendy too, all very peaceful. She’s too tired to put up a fuss. You lovebirds all set?”

“Definitely,” Mabel said, “I can sleep anywhere.” She flopped down onto her bed with a force that threatened to burst it, covering it up with a grin.

Zera tapped a finger to her chin before nodding. “You know I think I was once a millionaire briefly. Then I lost it all on roulette.”

“A gambler, are you?” Mr Pines asked and Mabel felt her heart leap in her throat.

“Oh sure,” Zera said, missing Mabel’s frantic signals to stop talking. “In fact, you might say May and I met in a casino.”

“Really?” Mr Pines raised an eyebrow while Mabel slumped down in shame. She didn’t want to bring up any of the real facts about how they’d met Zera, mainly because that story involved alien cops, magic temples, and thieves from beyond the stars. But even the basics seemed incriminating in some way.

“Or at least reconnected in one,” Zera continued obliviously. “May was passing through and I was in the middle of this high stakes game, a lot of money on the line…”

Pacifica on the other hand had picked up on Mabel’s distress, so coughed into her fist. “Gee, is that the time? I’d better check on Merrise before she goes to sleep.” She stretched her arms and placed a conspiratorial hand on Zera’s shoulder. “Try not to ramble on too long about all that romance stuff. You don’t wanna bore your hosts.”

Zera’s eyes widened and she subtly nodded. “Oh, right. Well, uh, it was a dull anecdote anyway.” Mabel breathed a sigh of relief as Pacifica left and Mr Pines seemed placated. “There are plenty of reasons how we met, but who we are is more important. Mabel is very sweet, and kind even to people who probably don’t deserve it. But she also doesn’t take anything lying down, always fighting to make the world a better place in some small way. She makes me prouder of who I am. You could say that’s why we got together.”

Mr Pines grunted in affirmation. “Hmmph, well as long as you’re not one of those Greenpeace hippy types my daughter seems to gravitate towards that’s alright with me.”

Mabel rolled her eyes, but grinned. Despite her long list of romances she’d never really managed to introduce any of them to her parents. Even back then she hadn’t been a particularly self-conscious kid, but with all her short flings and eclectic taste in partners she’d never found ‘the one’ to bring home for polite conversation. Zera passing the vibe check with her father wasn’t something she’d expected to be a problem, but it was nice all the same that he accepted her in his own begrudging way. She chuckled to herself, imagining the reaction if Zera was in her true form. Dad would probably freak out. Might be worth it to help Dipper skip over all his angst.

“There it is!” Merrise scurried into the room and dived into the pile of bags the group had dumped inside earlier. She grabbed a small llama plushie and clutched it to her chest. She wore one of Mabel’s old sleeping shirts, a few sizes too big and hanging loosely on her taller frame.

“Ah, you all set for bed Merrise?” Mr Pines asked. “Am I saying that right?”

“You stress the second syllable. Like: Me-rrise.”

“Sorta like Merry, but she doesn’t like being called that,” Mabel added, receiving a scowl from her niece in return.

Mr Pines tried out the name a few times until he was satisfied with the pronunciation. “Merrise. Nice name. Not heard it before. If you don’t mind me asking, where is it from?”

“From? From my… birth parents,” she offered, confused by the question.

“No, I mean,” he struggled with his words. “Where does it originate as a name?”

“Dad!” Mabel interjected. “You can’t go round asking people where they’re from like that.”

He held up his hands in apology “Sorry, sorry, touchy subject.” There was a frosty silence in the room only punctured when Zera leant on her bed, making a squeak. Rubbing his arm, Mr Pines said, “I’m just trying to learn more about you, Merrise. Since you’re part of the family now, and I don’t want to say anything that might make you uncomfortable. So in the future I’ll try not to make any mistakes like that again.”

“I- thank you,” Merrise quietly said. “Night everyone.” The others all said goodnight and Merrise shuffled back upstairs.

Mr Pines thumbed at the door and followed. “Ahem, I’ll go check if your mother’s ready for bed. Goodnight Mabel, Zera.”

The couple shared a glance. “Well, that could’ve gone better,” Zera muttered. Mabel stayed silent and laid back on her airbed.

Zera was right. Suddenly Dipper’s worries didn’t seem so abstract. Her dad was trying to get to know Zera and Merrise, but the thundering awkwardness of his attempt only left Mabel regretting the whole endeavour. Maybe with time both he and Mom would avoid any difficult questions, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before something unravelled the truth.

Mabel groaned. It had always seemed simple in the past, laid out like one of Dipper’s overly complex plans. ‘Mom and Dad finding out about the Journals = No more adventures’. That was the equation he’d laid out. So she’d given no further thoughts to it and gone on enjoying her teen years exploring magical mysteries.

But there were factors she’d failed to consider, like how keeping such a big part of herself hidden would create an inevitable distance from her parents, or how the weight of disobedience would fade as she and Dipper grew older and found their independence. Then there were her own activities, activism across the globe, the sort of things that got her put on government watchlists. Mom and Dad already knew the gist of that time of her life - they could hardly miss her face on nightly news reports - choosing not to pry any deeper into the unsavoury details. If they could handle ‘May Pines: global disruptor’, then what harm would the truth about Zera and Merrise cause now?

She knew one answer: it would reveal her as a liar. Dipper didn’t get that, thought it was still all about the magic and portals. That stuff wasn’t what mattered, Mabel realised. It was the idea that she couldn’t even trust her Dad about the most important things of all. She’d had the chance to watch her father cheerily chat with his granddaughter and didn’t want to burst the bubble yet.

Zera had noticed Mabel’s distress and laid down with one arm around her. Lying there, Mabel anticipated that whatever happened the next few days were going to be tricky to navigate. At least she had someone to rely on, she thought as Zera kissed her on the cheek. They could worry about her parents in the morning. As Zera got up to get into bed, Mabel surprised her with a kiss of her own and dragged her back down. Simple pleasures could help her forget her worries for one night.

#dipper pines #mabel pines #pacifica nortwest #Mr and Mrs Pines #Dipper and Mabel's parents #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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peleedsonprinter · 8 months

Text

Family reunion

My name is Epson Gabriel Fernandez, age 23. Born in Miami, Florida with Honduran and Dominican ancestry (Spanish, Portuguese, French, African, Native Central American), life has been a challenging rollercoaster. Since at the age of 3 in 2003, the family that i only knew is the disabled group home for children with staff/nurses. I was diagnosed with aspergers after been put in the group home. I had major issues on social skills, mutism, aggressive behaviors and depression that i struggled before i improved on all aspects as i got older. Living in a group home for twenty years was the life that i always know. But I never understand why i was living with them. But I did know that i have my mother Angela Andrea and younger sister Briana. Growing up without a father was depressing. It was not until seven months ago I decided to learn my true background from both parents. So i signed up to Ancestry, made a tree and bought a spit DNA test.

After taking the dna test and sending it back to ancestry, i accidentally found my older sister's profile including my mother's information. For all of my life i did not know i have an older half sister, so i contacted her via DM. It turns out she does remember me from a very long time ago. I met her in person a week later, meeting my niece and nephew as well. Stephanie is a sweet, funny, and joyful woman that makes everyone's day. She explained everything about the mystery of my father, learning that he from Honduras, named Carlos Antonio Castillo, and my mother's background of Dominican heritage and her early life. My mother was from Santiago, DR while she and her parents immigrated to New York City. She was married once to Felix Rodriguez, but divorced shortly. Later she met Pedro, therefore having my sister Stephanie at 19. However, my mother has a complicated health history of hypertension and anemia, leasing to her early heart attack and stroke but survived and made a full recovery.

Unfortunately i learned that my mother herself did some awful things even before i was born. She was a heavy alcoholic and a mentally challenged woman. She was not as respectful to others. She did not get any help for her bipolar and schizophrenia since childhood. Even worse she even abused my own father. She did not tell the whole family even my father that she was pregnant until I and Briana was born. One of my mother's decisions is neglecting me and Briana while she was asleep in her room. The police did arrest my mom and took me and Briana away form her forever, therefore breaking my father's heart while he was at work. Sadly the justice and foster care/ward of the court system has not been kind to my father or Stephanie because of alleged corruption behind the scenes and my mother's deceptive testimony. So i was hopeless for all of my life to not see my family again. But my mother herself did suffer her own consequences by going homeless after losing her kids and then disappeared without a trace until her death in 2017 from a hit and run incident in Miami Beach, FL. Her cause of death was severe head and body trauma, similar to the death of her father Andres in 1990 in puerto rico.

My father on the other hand is a wonderful, good spirited person. Bon and raised in La paz, honduras, he had a happy and fun childhood. His parents were wonderful, caring couple. He was a self employed businessman with the love of singer Leo Dan, soccer, American rock and education. He is a short, dark skin strong man. He is very talkative, calm, charismatic and gentle. He avoids drama from anyone. He has over 12 siblings and possibly 15 aunts/uncles. Before i was born, Carlos had a dozen children with three spouses. After i was born, he was by my side all the time raising and holding me while my mother was out at work. His gentle and fun personality made him the best father that the family knew. However he also had some of his own issues including alcohol, smoking, immigration and homelessness. He once crossed the Mexican/US border to Arizona before being arrested and deported but was later allowed back legally with all of required documentation. He was also an alcoholic but significantly less than my mother. It was possible that he is a lifelong smoker or he has just started smoking recently. Sadly, most recently he had stopped working or lost his job, resulting him losing a house and had no choice but to be in the streets by Walgreens in Miami dependent on smoking and drinking.

i received my dna results a month later, learning that i am a mix of European spanish, native central american, african, french, jewish, irish and Portuguese. My father's background is in the mountainous terrain with indigious and spanish background. My mother's background is spanish, portuguese, native dominican, african, irish, jewish, french. I only got my last name from my mother since my parents were not married. I was named after Edward or Edson but my name was misspelled on my birth certificate that it was not double checked. I learned that not only i have more siblings, cousins, uncles/aunts than i thoughts, i also have thousands of distant relatives around the world.

Since i learned about my family background, my new task is to find my father. Learning that he is alive and well, i was researching his name, age, location on ancestry and everywhere else. It was more challenging than i thought. The only record that i found of my father was my mother's former residence back in 2000-2003. For several more months, i kept attempting to find more information of my father. Then, i found the contact of my first cousin Luz from my father's sister Maria teresa. She is also a kind, joyful lady. She is living in Miami for years. Later, i contacted my other first cousins Santos and Morony Jesus from my father's family. One of them lives in Miami as well. This i when i decided to visit the relatives in person from last Thursday. After meeting with my aunt, she asked me to come with her because she might have saw him somewhere in town. I went with her on the truck, traveling closer to the city limit of Miami. Later, my father was spotted with his friend Luis at the front of Walgreens.

I was initially relieved and thrilled to see him, yet i was really emotional because not only he is homeless but that it was twenty years without seeing him that i thought i lost him forever. My life has come a full circle knowing that my father is still around and love me that we finally reunite for the 20 years that we missed together. He is still passionate, calm and supportive. He explained his side of the story about what happened when i was a little boy about his current situation. Now that we are able to see each other again, he asked me to contact Bri and asked her to talk to him for a moment. I also asked my father to do me a favor to do the right thing for me and Bri because now he knows that drinking and alcohol does not help his situation. So we are working on this together to get back on his feet. His friend Luis is also a homeless man and my father's translator.

In conclusion, this has personally been an interesting yet challenging journey. Now that i know who i am internally, life can be great in the long-term. Reuniting with my father, sisters and aunt really helps me get the happiness that i always wanted. I knew that i'm not lonely because i have a huge family that i want and get to meet. Knowing that i have a great father and sisters show that it helps me get somewhere positive.

#family #reunion #personal #ancestry #geneology #parents #father #story #dna

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camthesolemnone · 3 years

Note

*crashes through door*

HI I HAVE ANOTHER ONE!!

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

Ok, goodnight, I love you, bye!

*mwah*

*passes out just outside door*

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

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

"Mama! Misha’s finger is blue!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mama, what is a soulstring?”

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

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

Papa added on, motioning to Mikhail in the process.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Engineer?” Miss Pauling prompted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heavy’s eyes widened. He felt it again.

He decided in that moment that polishing Sascha could wait.

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

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

Mikhail nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

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

Pauling raised an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An opening in the crowds.

Everything went silent.

The world slowed down.

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

The soulstring unraveled and landed on the ground.

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

At last, Mikhail and Ludwig were home.

#tf2 #heavymedic #fanfiction #soulmates

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nerdygaymormon · 3 years

Note

What do you think about the possible excommunication of Natasha Helfer?

Before this week, the only thing I knew about Natasha Helfer is I’d read an article she’d written about masturbation being part of normal sexual development, and she doesn’t see it as sinful. I agree with her.

Because of the publicity surrounding her summons to a membership council, I now know much more about her.

She made a video about being summoned to a membership council scheduled for April 18th. For starters, a stake where she hasn’t lived since 2019 has decided to do this, which seems strange to me.

Here’s the things the summons letter cites as “misconduct”:

Support for same-sex marriage

Teaching that masturbation is part of a normative sexual-development journey and should not be seen as “sin” or as a reason to keep our youth from being considered worthy to serve or church activities

Her stances on sexually-explicit materials, aka pornography (she believes this is because she educates about using a values model vs an addiction model in the treatment of such concerns)

She’s been critical of Church leaders

Concerns she has encouraged people to leave the Church

—————————

I went to section 32.6 of the General Handbook which lists the things someone may face a membership council. Frankly, the things listed in the letter sent to Natasha Helfer are not found in the Handbook.

I suppose these could fit under the charge of “Apostasy,” because she publicly declares opinions different from the Church. Here’s what the Handbook says constitutes apostasy:

Repeatedly acting in clear and deliberate public opposition to the Church, its doctrine, its policies, or its leaders

Persisting in teaching as Church doctrine what is not Church doctrine after being corrected by the bishop or stake president

Showing a pattern of intentionally working to weaken the faith and activity of Church members

Continuing to follow the teachings of apostate sects after being corrected by the bishop or stake president

Formally joining another church and promoting its teachings (Total inactivity in the Church or attending another church does not by itself constitute apostasy. However, if a member formally joins another church and advocates its teachings, withdrawing his or her membership may be necessary.)

—————————

Natasha Helfer is a well-known LDS marriage counselor and certified sex therapist in Utah. She’s written several articles that have been widely read. She’s been a recurring guest on the Mormon Mental Health podcast, Mormon Matters and appeared on many other podcasts.

She’s particularly sought out because of her training & expertise and her experiences in helping members of the Church overcome their sense of shame regarding sexuality.

As a marriage counselor, she helps couples where one or both goes through a faith crisis, she says she doesn’t encourage anyone to leave the Church but honors their choices and helps them work through their thoughts & feelings, and also the effect it has on their marriage.

Because of the news about her being summoned for a membership council, I’ve learned more about her positions. Here’s a list of some of the things I’ve seen in her writing:

Sex Ed in Utah public schools should be comprehensive and accurate

Sexual assault is a crime & should be talked about as such

The LDS Church should know how to address sexual misconduct and sexual assault much better than it currently does

We should embrace and minister to our trangender neighbors, not fear them and make church difficult for them

Excommunication is cruel and unusual punishment which often is a traumatic experience used by the Church to silence its critics

Service Missions should be setup to be meaningful and seen as equal to proselyting missions

LGBTQ+ members should be affirmed and included in their faith community

LDS teachings & messages to LGBTQ+ members is akin to bullying and has real-world consequences on their mental health & lives

Fear of the BYU Honor Code actually causes many to not seek repentance for fear of academic punishment

The Church teaching that only certain families that fit the mold will get to enjoy the afterlife together is harmful. Mormon Heaven = Sad Heaven. She lists many groups who are harmed by this teaching, including: mixed-faith families, LGBTQ+ individuals & their families, families where someone struggles with addiction, single-parent families, families trying to deal with abuse & trauma, families dealing with mental health conditions such as bi-polar or impulse-control, family survivors of someone who died by suicide

When the Church rescinded the policy of exclusion against gay couples and their children, it should have been accompanied by an apology, not just a brief statement of the announcement with no explanation for the change

Social media isn’t the problem, how we use it is. If we’re keeping in touch with family & friends with whom we otherwise wouldn’t because of distance, accessing support you wouldn’t find in your area, obtaining ideas & resources, these are good. Comparing ourselves to others’ “best selves”, debating others, writing mean comments and such are not helpful. Too often people behave differently online than they do in person

We should wish people well when they leave our church and faith community and wish them well on their spiritual journey. We do a good job at celebrating newcomers even though many of them had to say goodbye to something in order to say hello to us

We need to speak of abortion more than as if anyone who gets one is evil. Even the Church’s position makes room for abortion in certain circumstances and we should be more nuanced in how we speak of it

Biological sex and gender are not binary. This may be LDS doctrine but the sciences of Biology and Psychology say otherwise

She supported the law ending conversion therapy in Utah of LGBTQ+ people

Racism is a public health emergency in the USA, racism is more than hate, it’s in our systems. It’s in our scriptures, our folklore, our culture, our history

Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself. It’s acceptance and moving forward

She also has many articles & podcasts about improving marriage relationships, how to talk with your child about sex, tips for a mixed-faith marriage and similar topics directly related to her job as a marriage counselor and sex therapist.

I’m very impressed, from what I see. She is a tremendous force for good in our LDS community. We need people willing to speak the truth.

—————————

Here’s two articles that especially impressed me.

First is one is about masturbation, how it’s a legitimate way to meet one’s needs and some of the many benefits associated with sexual release.

Second is one about pornography, the LDS culture gives pornography more power than it deserves with our blanket bans, secrecy & shaming, and calling virtually all porn viewing an addiction.

—————————

Frankly, based on what I post on my blog, I could be charged with all the same things that Natasha Helfer is being charged with.

Do I support same-sex marriage? Yes. Absolutely.

Do I think masturbation is a sin? No, and I think many Church websites, publications, and the General Handbook back up this view.

Is masturbation a normal part of sexual development? Yes. And it has many benefits for individuals, especially singles like me, and even within a marriage

Is porn always wrong? I definitely can think of ways porn can be included inside a healthy marriage, perhaps as a way to help a partner get “in the mood,” or for someone with a higher libido to use along with masturbation, as part of foreplay, or even getting some ideas to spice up their love life.

Have I been critical of Church leaders? You betcha. I think they’re wrong on LGBTQ+ topics and I say so.

Do I encourage people to leave the Church? I don’t view myself this way, although I wouldn’t say that I try to get them to stay, either. It’s their path to walk. I know most LGBTQ+ people leave the Church, it’s the way our journeys normally go. I feel God has told me it’s fine for me to leave this church, so in no way do I think poorly of people who leave. This church isn’t ready for queer people and I don’t think God requires us to remain some place that harms us.

My understanding is we’re allowed to have beliefs that differ from the Church, as long as we’re not recruiting people to our side. Simply sharing your opinion or some differences in how you view things shouldn’t be something we can be punished for.

I suppose the difference between her and me is she’s seen as a high-profile individual and she’s using her credentials to give weight to her opinions, and I’m just some rando gay guy who has a blog.

#natasha helfer #long post

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taexual · 4 years

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (16)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst

words: 6.6k

chapter sixteen

Despite deciding not to make your already uncomfortable situation even more awkward by discussing your kiss, Jungkook could not stop thinking about it the entire drive back to your dormitory. Actually, he’d been thinking about the kiss nearly every moment since it happened, but with you in the car next to him, his thoughts became clearer. More defined. More vibrant.

If he’d have closed his eyes – not a good idea for someone who was behind the wheel of a car; but it wasn’t like Jungkook was above entertaining bad ideas – he swore he could return to that moment when he had you underneath him on his bed, your mouth against his, right before his mother knocked on the door and interrupted you.

What would have happened if she hadn’t knocked?

“You okay?” you asked suddenly, the question startling him.

“Hmm?” he nearly swerved off the road, answering you in a high-pitched voice, “yeah. Why?”

“You just inhaled really—nevermind,” you changed your mind – it was better to stay quiet all the way home. But, aware how weird your question seemed without any explanations, you mumbled under your breath, “thought you were suffocating or something.”

Jungkook hadn’t realized his breath got caught in his throat every time he remembered kissing you, but it made sense; his body needed to give up every other activity—no matter how crucial for his survival it was—in order to make enough space in his mind to fully immerse itself into the memory.

The memory was so important to him because, based on the way you shifted closer to the door and further away from him in his car, he could tell that even the lingering possibility of bringing the kiss up made you close off. So the chance of it happening again – him, getting you to lower your guards down enough to allow another kiss – was so slim, it was incredible he hadn’t given up yet.

“So, I take it you won’t make it to my gig this Friday, then,” Jungkook said when he entered the campus, nodding at the barrier guard through his window before turning to look at you to show you that, no, he wasn’t going to try to get you to talk about last weekend, but also, no, he wasn’t going to completely let this go, either.

“No,” you said with a quick glance his way, the barbecue at his father’s company written in red letters in your mental itinerary. “Not this Friday. Sorry.”

He thought this over – “this” Friday meant that next Friday still had an opening. He liked these odds.

“Text me if my dad gets too crazy, yeah?” Jungkook asked as he pulled into the parking lot of your dormitory. “I’ll make sure to reply with tips on how to get him to leave you alone.”

“No, you’ll be in the middle of your performance,” you said – expressing your appreciation for his concern by giving him a warm smile – and then dismissed him with a wave of your hand, “I’ll find a way to handle it.”

Stopping the car right in front of the entrance – but not shutting the engine off which was, both, terrible for the environment and also not a very smart idea socially, considering that people were already watching your every step, and they were absolutely going to hear Jungkook’s car – he turned to look at you with a very determined expression on his face.

“If you don’t think I can find a way to include answering texts in my set list, I have news for you,” he said and you thought he was joking – just being reassuring – but the look in his eyes told a different story.

Your smile widened despite your protests. “Alright, noted. But don’t worry about me. Just let me know when you’re done with your gig.”

Jungkook – who’d never had to report his whereabouts to anyone before – found himself nodding eagerly.

“You too,” he said. “I mean, text me when that whole social gathering is over. I can drive over there to take you home.”

“No,” you protested again, “you have an after-party to get to. I’ll make my own way home. Don’t worry—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he countered, using your own argument against you, “I will come get you out of there early if you’ll need me to. No matter what I’m doing.”

The look on his face was resolute and, for a moment, you considered that perhaps this was his way of showing you that he didn’t want you to go to the company barbecue at all – especially not when he couldn’t be there to supervise and make sure the real story of your relationship remained well hidden behind the tale you’d created for his parents – but then, Jungkook looked down and refuted these thoughts.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said. “My dad already had that look on his face – the scowl he saved for me only – because he’d been expecting me to refuse to come all along, but then you… well, you softened the blow.”

“I didn’t soften it much if he still looked at you like that,” you said, lowering your eyes just as Jungkook raised his.

“No, you did. I’d have gone home, thinking—no, knowing—that I’d let him down yet again,” he said, “and that often has interesting consequences—”

You raised your eyebrows. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Right. But now I get to go home and worry about you being there alone with my family and their colleagues, so that gives me something else to occupy myself with.”

You could have insisted that you weren’t a damsel in distress and could figure out your own way out of a tricky situation if you had to, but you chose to let him have this one. If thinking about this kept him out of trouble while you were out of campus and, possibly, unable to reach him in time, then so be it.

“That’s hardly a better way to spend your time, but if that’s what you’re into these days…” you replied with humor and Jungkook – who could tell that you were only saying this so you’d stop going back and forth with him – forced himself to smile.

“You’re rubbing off on me,” he said. “I’m starting to develop this need to constantly be in control of everything.”

Your mouth opened in genuine surprise and then – almost comically – opened wider still, when you decided to add a more dramatic effect to your reaction, so you could conceal the fact that the portrayal of you, as a control freak, had honestly upset you.

But you couldn’t express your feelings out loud because, admittedly, he was right, you did like to be in control of your surroundings. Shamelessly so, too, because you didn’t think it was wrong to know about everything that involved you.

“That’s not good,” you said. “We can’t both be in control. We’ll clash.”

“If we do, I hope it will be as epic as Harry versus Voldemort.”

You snickered at this, the tension in your shoulders lightening. “I take it you’re Voldemort?”

Jungkook looked positively outraged by this assumption. “Of course not! I’m The Chosen One.”

Now you were full-on laughing. And The Chosen One – who, technically, could have actually been called The Boy Who Lived after all the life-threatening stunts he’d pulled since starting puberty – smiled, beyond proud of himself.

Smiling at each other for several seconds – that could have been minutes or even hours for all you cared; it only felt like one blink of an eye to you anyway – you felt your chest fill with affection. That tended to happen sometimes, especially when you’d been dreading a situation – The Talk About the Sunday Night Kiss – and then managed to successfully make it out alive – by using a method, commonly referred to as, Staying Quiet and Changing the Topic.

“I meant what I said, though,” you spoke and the relief that you didn’t have to endure the awkward ‘so… what do we do now?’ question washed over you with a warm wave. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

You had leaned closer him as you said this – it was a natural instinct: reaching out to touch someone’s hand (or, uh-oh, cheek!) for more effect – but you froze mid-way, hanging awkwardly over the console of his car and regretting your very existence because you’d noticed how Jungkook stopped breathing when you moved closer, and how quickly his breathing returned to him – in the form of a disappointed huff – when you suddenly stopped.

“Thank you for taking me to the meeting today,” you ended up blurting as you pulled back, your eyes now firmly locked on the handle of the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing,” he replied and, somehow, that was it.

The eternity you always spent in his car when he dropped you off in front of your dormitory had suddenly come to an end and, because of how weird it was to leave without saying goodbye – but, then again, were you supposed to hug? Kiss? – your hand lingered on the handle numbly, only pushing the door open a minute later.

Paradoxically, relief and concern both flooded your brain as soon as you stepped one foot outside but then, before you could exit his car, you felt him take hold of your wrist – not pulling you back per se, but holding onto you firmly enough to stop you from moving.

“Hey,” Jungkook said. You were mid-step, so you had to fully exit the car and lean down to look at him.

“Hmm?” you asked, your wrist still in his grip even though he had successfully captured your attention.

“D-don’t…” he tried to say, mumbling the rest of the words under his breath. You frowned, not hearing him, and were about to lean forward to ask what he’d said, when he cleared his throat and tried again, “let’s not be weird around each other, okay? We know each other far too long for that.”

Your plan to keep your mouth shut and divert his attention to different topics had, clearly, only succeeded in part, because Jungkook was addressing last Sunday night, after all, but he didn’t dare to bring the kiss up directly. And his acknowledgement of the fact that you were too stuck in your own head to let him talk to you about the kiss specifically, made it all worse.

“Yeah,” you said then. “I wouldn’t want things to suddenly be weird between us.”

“So, let’s not make it weird,” he said, nodding and reluctantly letting go of your hand. “Don’t forget to text me tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you pulled your hand back and, with one last smile – that looked forced, uncomfortable and weird; all the things you didn’t want it to look like – you walked away from his car and back to your dorm, ready for Inna’s tirade of questions. Questions that you had no answers to.

What surprised you about the company barbecue on Friday afternoon wasn’t the fact that Inna hadn’t demanded to know all the details of the event when you told her where you’d be going, or the fact that all of the people you’d seen at the bi-yearly meeting on Thursday, were now dressed in red aprons like your friendly neighborhood dads.

It was the fact that Namjoon, of all people, was dressed like one of those dads, too.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, evidently shocked to run into him here. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh, hi!” Namjoon seemed just as surprised but he shook your hand – which was his go-to way of saying hello to people, as you’ve learned – and smiled, explaining, “I’m interning here, actually. What about you?”

You were thrown off balance by your surprise – the two of you had talked about your plans for the future before, sharing your ambitions with each other, and yet you didn’t know that he was an intern here – but recovered a moment later to explain yourself.

“Oh, I’m—the CEO is an old family friend, so I’m here as a courtesy of sorts,” you said, feeling self-conscious when you saw Namjoon raise his eyebrows after he learned about this connection. “I was supposed to come earlier to help you set up but my roommate was leaving for the weekend, and she—well, anyway. I’m only here to get acquainted with the company, really.”

Contrary to what you’d expected him to ask you next, Namjoon wondered, “do you see yourself here in the future?”

Even though he didn’t inquire about your biography outright – “were your parents powerful and influential businessmen as well?” – his question did seem to insinuate that you may start working here purely because of your relationship to the head of the company.

“Maybe,” you replied, realizing how privileged you were to be here when you weren’t even a part of the company yet. “What has it been like, interning here?”

“Oh, it’s been okay. It’s the only company that took me in,” he spoke and you felt yourself exhale in relief after you lost the spotlight. “The others weren’t looking for interns. Or they needed interns with a job experience that spanned more than my college career.”

You scoffed, understanding what he meant very well because you’d been there, too. “How does that make sense?”

“It doesn’t,” Namjoon said with a sigh. “And that’s why I’m here.”

“So, this wasn’t your first choice?” you asked.

“No, but I don’t regret coming here,” he replied. “It’s a nice work environment. The people are very welcoming and helpful, which isn’t something you see a lot of in corporate businesses.”

Sadly, some of the people here weren’t very welcoming in their personal lives, you thought bitterly, remembering Jungkook and his father’s tense relationship. You chose not to mention that, however, because it didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

“I hope you’re not here for work, though,” you said instead, smiling as you watched Namjoon laugh awkwardly and nod at the beef patties on a plate next to the grill.

“No,” he said. “But they did put me on grilling duty – which wasn’t very smart of them, considering how terrible I am around things that can burst into flames – so I do have some hefty responsibilities today.”

You chuckled. “I could help you. I’ve done my fair share of barbecuing when I was growing up. Let me just leave my handbag somewhere—”

“The gazebo over there,” Namjoon pointed at the far end of the camping grounds, “they’ve turned it into a coat room. You could leave it there,” he looked at you and, catching his own eagerness, explained, “I would really appreciate your help. I don’t want my internship to end prematurely because I’d poisoned everyone with my poor cooking.”

Giving him a sympathetic grin, you assured him, “that won’t happen. At least, not on my watch. I’ll be right back!”

As you’d learned once you got back to the grill and started to assist Namjoon – or, allowed him to assist you – Jungkook’s father hadn’t even arrived yet. Him and his wife – according to a very chatty woman who was Namjoon’s supervisor – were supposed to come a little while later and then, following tradition, they would take a picture with the rest of the employees, sit down for a meal, and leave within an hour.

This barbecue may have been a nice social gathering for the employees of his company, but it was strictly a formality for Jungkook’s father.

“Still, it’s nice,” Namjoon said once the woman left you two to finish grilling the sausages and the patties alone, “not many CEOs bother to interact with the lower-rank employees at company events. At least, not in my experience. My dad didn’t even know what his boss looked like and he’d worked for the same company for twenty years.”

“It sounds impossible in today’s day and age, though, with everyone being on social media,” you pointed out.

“Of course. But you don’t always recognize people from social media in real life. So, it’s nice that even I, an intern, have a chance to see the CEO of the company with my own eyes. And maybe even meet him.”

“Hmm, sure,” you nodded with an unconcerned shrug. “It is nice of him, I suppose.”

Namjoon noticed your nonchalance and he knew that the reason why you couldn’t relate to him in this particular situation was because you had nothing to get excited about – you had already met the CEO.

“You said he was a family friend?” Namjoon asked you. “So, you know him quite well, then?”

You paused grilling for a second to look at him but he was watching the food to make sure it didn’t burn. And that was even better, since it gave you more time to come up with an abridged version of your relationship with Jungkook’s father.

“Yeah, uh… my mom and his wife had been best friends growing up,” you said, “and they’re still very close to this day. Now that they’re both married, their families got involved in the friendship, too. He’s always been kind to me but my knowledge of him comes from Jungkook’s point of view, so I’m probably—”

Namjoon finally looked away from the sizzling grill to get you to back up. “Wait, Jungkook?”

“Yeah, we—” you paused, realizing that he wasn’t confused about your friendship with Jungkook but, rather, about Jungkook, being the son – and the heir apparent – of the CEO. “The company—i-it belongs to Jungkook’s father.”

“Oh,” Namjoon mumbled, looking away as this revelation rendered him speechless for a quick minute. “Oh.”

You didn’t know what to make of this “oh”, so you tried to clear the air with a chuckle.

“I, uh—I had thought that was common knowledge on campus,” you said.

“I—maybe it is, I don’t really keep up w-with that,” he admitted. “I just assumed he was popular because of Parental Advisory.”

“He is,” you nodded, “but coming from a rich family probably didn’t hinder his way to the top very much.”

“No,” he snickered, “it probably didn’t. So, uh, is he coming here, too?”

You had picked up a pair of tongs from the folding table nearby and used them to flip the patties before you answered. That was why you didn’t notice how much Namjoon struggled to process this new information. You couldn’t ask him what was it about Jungkook that caused Namjoon to have such a hard time dealing with this news.

“No,” you said, still not looking at him as you focused on the grill. “He’s got a show tonight.”

“Ah, so his band comes first,” Namjoon said in a voice that would have been humorous—in a sarcastic way—if it wasn’t so acidic.

You stopped what you were doing to give the boy next to you a surprised look.

“Well—not necessarily,” you said and then tried to find a way to explain why Jungkook was the way he was without getting into too many unnecessary and overly-complicated details, “he cares about both, but he’s not—he’s got, uh, some issues with—”

“With being civil in front of his father’s employees?” Namjoon interjected sharply.

You blinked. “He—”

“God, sorry,” he blurted suddenly, putting the metal spatula down on the grill before realizing that this wasn’t a good idea and picking it back up again. He sounded exasperated as he tried to take his previous question back, “I don’t know why I’m coming off so angry about this. I was just surprised. I did hear that the CEO had a son who was presumably going to take over the company one day, but I didn’t think it was… you know.”

You didn’t know, but you could guess that Jungkook’s bad reputation preceded him and even people, who claimed not to judge others without getting to know them first, couldn’t help but judge first.

Namjoon sounded disappointed when he talked about him. Worse, he sounded displeased and even choked as he spoke, trying to cover up his own frustration so he could remain impeccably respectful like he always was – or tried to be.

He tried to avoid stereotypes but you’d gotten glimpses of his real attitude at the library when he’d revealed his assumptions about the members of Parental Advisory, guessing – and getting it right – that the members were a “troubled bunch”.

You’d admired his restraint from any further assumptions that could have shown his prejudice. But now his respectfulness irked you because it hid his real feelings and made it almost impossible for you to defend Jungkook without sounding like you were overreacting.

“There’s still a long way before Jungkook can take over,” you said, focusing on the tongs in your hands and the way they clapped with a metallic yelp each time you clicked them together. “He’s working on it and his father definitely isn’t cutting him any slack just because he’s his son.”

“Right, I wasn’t—”

“But you probably know that if you work here,” you continued, yours words coming out in a batch of agitation that Namjoon could not interrupt, “there aren’t any exclusive employees here. Everyone is being treated the same, regardless of their connection to the staff higher up.”

“No, of course!” he exclaimed before you could continue. “I didn’t mean to imply—although, I guess I did imply that he had certain guarantees that other people didn’t, which is true, of course, with him being the son of the CEO. But I didn’t mean to make it sound like he wouldn’t deserve the chief executive position. I’m sure his father wouldn’t give it to him if he didn’t think Jungkook was worth it.”

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing hard. “He wouldn’t.”

Namjoon wasn’t going to say anything else about this – he’d already said too much – but the way you went straight for his throat when he misspoke about Jungkook, shed a new light on your relationship with him. It intrigued Namjoon even if he wasn’t fascinated by you in a romantic sense.

His interest in your relationship with Jungkook was mostly understandable, though – the two of you were so different on the surface, one could only wonder what was it that attracted you to each other.

Well, apparently, there were depths to the reckless lead vocalist of the campus band that Namjoon didn’t know about.

“I’ve heard he treats everyone here like family,” Namjoon said, trying to make his voice sound light as he shifted the topic from the son to the father.

“I’ve heard that, too,” you agreed, your voice still on edge. “The man has a great reputation around here.”

“He’s sort of living up to it, too,” Namjoon said and you saw him nod in the direction of the road that ran along the north side of the camping grounds.

You turned your head to see Jungkook’s father step out of his car, with his wife following after, from the other side. He shook hands with the few people who came to greet him.

He had a wide smile on his face – a smile that you couldn’t remember seeing in a very long time, but now that you did, you realized how similar him and Jungkook were: both of them seemed to lose ten years of their age when they smiled.

“He kind of looks like he’s running a presidential campaign,” you said, observing the scene as Jungkook’s father greeted his employees – some with a good-natured hug, others with a wave.

Namjoon glanced at you and, relieved to see that your mind was no longer lingering on your previous conversation, laughed. “Maybe a bit, yeah.”

Within moments of Jungkook’s father’s arrival, the campgrounds were in an uproar: everyone was busy grilling their last bits of food and arranging it in a way that would look the most appetizing.

The plate of food you and Namjoon had grilled definitely wasn’t the easiest on the eyes, but none of the food seemed under-cooked or burned, so both of you were content with that.

Then, just as you were about to pick the food up and carry it over to the structure tent in the center of the grounds, you were reminded that time for dinner hadn’t arrived yet.

The traditional picture had to come first.

You felt a lot like you did on picture day back at school – with one of the employees ordering everyone around, demanding they squat, scooch closer, smile wider, turn their heads, and move to the back because their clothing is too flashy – and that was what you told Namjoon when the two of you found yourselves standing side-by-side in front of the camera, very close to Jungkook’s father himself.

“I think it’s worse than it was at school,” Namjoon whispered back, glancing at the other employees and their wide smiles, “but, at least, we don’t have to wear uniforms.”

You scoffed. “Yes. Wearing dark red aprons is better.”

“This awful color makes us all more united,” he said, looking over your shoulder and accidentally meeting the eye of his CEO, who was making sure you weren’t standing too far from him, because he considered you to be his guest and, therefore, he had to make sure you received the best treatment. Namjoon figured as much, as he cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

Finally, the photographer – or, actually, the Head of Human Resources with his new Samsung – took the picture, making sure the flash blinded each and every single person posing for him. And then he took another picture. And then another one. And then a few more for good measure.

You thought you’d blinked in all of them but you hoped to never see those pictures anyway. They probably hung them up in the lobby to remind everyone who went into the building that this was a very friendly environment to work in, but the actual employees never really looked at the pictures.

It was almost funny how wrong you were about that.

“Such a pleasure to see you here,” Jungkook’s father said, approaching you as soon as the people broke apart from their designated positions and pretended to mingle while, really, they waited for the director to finish talking and lead them to the main tent for dinner.

“Thank you very much for inviting me,” you said, aware of everyone’s eyes on you as you exchanged a polite and obligatory hug. “It’s a very nice place here.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” he nodded and then, much to your relief, pointed at the tent. “Let’s go have some food, shall we? I’d been saving up my stomach the whole day for this.”

You chuckled and walked next to him towards the plastic table, filled to the brim with various plates of food. There was far too much grilled meat here – it was impossible for everyone to eat it all, no matter how many people were here – but that only seemed to please the CEO.

“Would you like to take a look at the pictures, sir?” the Head of HR approached Jungkook’s father after he noticed that your conversation had ceased.

Based on how carefully he held the treasured Samsung in his hands, you figured that, either the phone had cost several million dollars, or the man was genuinely terrified of Jungkook’s father – which wasn’t unlikely, as you very well knew.

“Oh, of course, of course,” Jungkook’s father said, always so pleasant, and then stopped to take a look at the phone. You weren’t sure if you should have kept walking or stopped as well. And then he solved the dilemma for you by addressing you, “I’m going to forward the picture to Jungkook so he knows what he’s missing.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a great idea,” you said, smiling, even though you knew Jungkook probably wasn’t even going to open the picture.

Funnily enough, you were wrong about that, too.

While you and Jungkook’s father joined the rest of his employees for the barbecue, Jungkook was finishing soundcheck with his bandmates. He checked his phone – like he did after each song – and rolled his eyes when he saw a text from his father instead of from you.

He opened it, though.

He didn’t care much for what his father said – but he had to admit, he’d never seen his father use the winky face emoji before, so that threw him off – but his eyes caught the picture he’d attached and Jungkook pressed on it without a moment’s hesitation.

Skimming over the bright smiles of his father’s employees, he scanned the picture, looking for you.

And he found you.

But not before he found Namjoon standing right next to you.

Much to your surprise, talking to the other employees – even despite the age gap – proved to be a lot of fun. Some of the older ones actually remembered you from when you were little; they recalled you and Jungkook holding onto Jungkook’s mother’s dress as she brought you two along when she came to visit her husband at the company. And the younger employees curiously absorbed everything you told them about your experience at university, sharing their own life stories with you in return.

Because you found yourself having a good time here, you only remembered that you’d left your phone in your handbag – which was across the camping grounds, tucked away in the lonely wooden gazebo – when Jungkook’s father – who was still here, much to everyone’s surprise – decided it was time to pop the champagne.

You excused yourself from the table, promising to return soon because you only meant to retrieve your phone so you could check the time and maybe check in with Jungkook in case his show was over by now.

That was not what ended up happening when you located your handbag under the various expensive jackets that were haphazardly thrown on the bench in the gazebo.

You pulled your phone out to see several missed calls.

None of those missed calls were from Jungkook. In fact, the majority of them came from Inna, which was already weird enough since she’d left campus again this weekend and she never called you. You always texted.

But what truly confused you were the last two missed calls because they were from Yoongi, Jungkook’s bandmate. You’d only talked to Yoongi on the phone once, when you were attempting to get in touch with Jungkook after he missed dinner at his parents’ place, but Yoongi was high back then so you didn’t think he even remembered.

But he did remember, apparently, because, while you stood there, puzzled and a little alarmed, his number lit up on your screen again.

Clearing your throat, you picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Oh, fuck, thank God, you’re here,” Yoongi spoke and, judging from the relief in his voice, he knew very well whom he was talking to. “Is Jungkook with you?”

“Jungkook?” you repeated stupidly. “W-why would he be with me? Don’t you have a show?”

Yoongi laughed, loudly and completely humorlessly. “We do have a show. He was wasted for the most of it.”

A painful bolt of electricity shot through you. “He performed drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. At least, he performed,” Yoongi said, “that’s before the encore, though. We couldn’t find him. The fucking asshole completely missed the three final songs. We thought he went to see you.”

You felt a pang of guilt even though you had nothing to feel guilty about because Jungkook was most definitely not with you, and he didn’t have a single reason to come see you before he finished the show anyway.

“I-I’m not on campus right now,” you said, running your hand through your hair as you considered what could have happened in the span of the few hours since you left your dorm this morning, after having talked to Jungkook on the phone. “Did you try calling him?”

“Obviously. He’s not picking up. I’m pretty sure he tossed his phone into a fucking lake,” Yoongi said and then, even though he didn’t mean it, he added angrily, “he better be in the lake, too, or else I’ll kill him myself.”

Knowing that the scenario of Jungkook accidentally driving into a lake wasn’t one to be dismissed, you felt your skin shiver.

“I’ll look for him,” you promised, looking back at the celebration in the tent across the field.

“You said you weren’t on campus,” Yoongi said. “Your roommate said she was out, too.”

You weren’t aware that Yoongi had talked to Inna tonight, but that explained the avalanche of missed calls from her. You made a mental note to send her a quick explanatory text message on your way to your dorm.

“I’m coming back,” you told Yoongi, grabbing your bag and making your way back to the rest of the company. “Let me know if he gets in touch with you, though, okay?”

The boy on the other end scoffed. “He won’t. Chances are, he won’t talk to the rest of us for a week after he eventually shows up back home. As if it’s us who fucked up, and not him.”

“Did anything happen?” you asked, still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. That wasn’t easy when each piece looked drastically different from the next and you had no idea what the full picture was supposed to look like. “Did someone say something to him? Did he get into a fight? Did he—”

“No. Nothing happened. We were—ah, shit, wait, his dad texted him, didn’t he?” Yoongi said but it didn’t sound like he was addressing you. He wasn’t; a moment later, a muffled, “yeah” sounded in the background of the call. Then, Yoongi continued, “yeah, we were finishing up with the soundcheck when he got a text from his dad. He read it and just fucking dipped. When he came back to do the show, he was already struggling on his feet.”

You cursed under your breath before thinking aloud, “his dad is here. I did see him text Jungkook but he was just sending him a picture—could it have been the picture that triggered him?”

“A picture of what?”

“There’s this barbecue that the company organized. His dad invited us both but he stayed back to do the show, so I came alone. We took a picture, everyone who’s here. And his dad sent it to him. Could that be the reason why he—”

“No,” Yoongi said right away, “company dinners—or barbecues, or whatever—doesn’t sound like Jungkook’s thing. He wouldn’t give a fuck about the picture. Unless you took someone there as your plus one?”

“Of course I didn’t. I was supposed to come with him but—oh, fuck.”

You stopped walking, the realization hitting you first, and the absurdity of it following right after.

Namjoon was in the picture next to you. He was just standing there, not even touching you, but was it possible that his appearance in the picture was enough for Jungkook to lose touch with reality?

“Fuck, of course, that’s possible,” you said out loud, almost stomping your feet in frustration like a kid, throwing a tantrum. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll text you if I find him.”

You didn’t hear Yoongi’s response because you were already pulling the phone away from your ear as you returned to the tent. You needed to find a way to leave without raising any suspicions with Jungkook’s father – whom you ran past in a wide semicircle like he was the plague itself – and you figured that the best way to do that would be faking a health emergency.

But for that, you needed to spend another few inconspicuous minutes by the table, looking colorless and uncomfortable. That wasn’t going to be difficult since you did feel light-headed already.

As you waited for the right amount of time to pass before you could leave, you tried texting Jungkook. You even tried calling – thinking you’d have enough time to walk far enough from the table so that’d no one would hear you – but the beeping signal never ceased and you didn’t get to hear Jungkook’s voice.

Right when you bit your lip, trying his number for the fifth time in a row as if the previous four times were just glitches in the system, someone noticed your distress.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s voice sounded by your ear, startling you because he was across the table from you just a second ago. “You okay? You came back to the table, looking very out of it.”

“Namjoon,” you said, your voice so grave, he thought you were about to tell him that the entire campus had burned down while the two of you weren’t there and you were the only suspects. “I need to leave.”

“Did something happen?” he asked, the concern in his voice genuine.

You nodded. “Jungkook got in trouble. I have to go back, b-but I can’t tell his father about any of this.”

You spoke without thinking about your last conversation with Namjoon or how this news could have confirmed Jungkook as a useless waste of space in his eyes. Frankly, in that moment, you couldn’t have cared less about Namjoon’s opinion of Jungkook.

You could have used his help, even if he was going to judge you for it.

“I’m going to call myself a cab,” you said, “but could you please do me a favor, and tell his dad that I’d left because I wasn’t feeling well?”

Namjoon pulled back from your chair and looked across the table to his own seat – his leather jacket resting on the back of the chair – before giving you a nod.

“Let’s go,” he said. You were already standing up but then paused and sat back down, confused.

“What?”

“I’ll drive you back to campus,” he said, “we can leave without saying anything – no one will even notice. And then, when I’m back, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well and that’s why I took you home early.”

“T-that’s very kind, but I can really just—”

“No, let me take you home,” Namjoon insisted as gently as he could, afraid that his forceful tone might remind you of his previous slip-up when you were talking about Jungkook. “It’ll be my way of apologizing for stepping over the line earlier today.”

You considered telling him that he had nothing to apologize for – he didn’t know Jungkook personally and everyone was entitled to their own opinion; you’d just gotten annoyed that he was so quick to hide this opinion under the curtain of fake politeness – but, eventually, the realization that you really didn’t have the time to debate if he should have felt apologetic or not won over, and you nodded.

You needed to get back to campus quickly, even if there was a risk of Jungkook seeing you and Namjoon together again – if that really was the reason why he got drunk and missed the encore of his own show.

“Okay. Let’s go,” you said, finally standing up. “Thank you.”

keep reading | masterlist

#bts reactions #bts college au #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook college au #college au #fanfiction #bts angst #bts imagines #angst #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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miss-tc-nova · 3 years

Text

Events Unchanged - Xehanort x Eraqus

So THIS is my final piece for the @checkmate-zine. I had a blast writing it and it’s probably one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever written. Please check out the other creators on this project because they are all absolutely amazing.

Music Inspiration: End In Tragedy and MIssing You by Set It Off

Art by my queen @kingdomcarrots

~~~~~

The castle looms over the young man. This being his first stop, he’s not entirely sure he’s in the right place, or rather, the right time. The description of the place matches up, but he could be anywhere from minutes to decades off with no idea how to tell. Additionally, if he’s jumped even a minute too far, that complicates the whole plan.

With really no other choice, he climbs the steps to the front door, letting himself in. He’d heard a little of this place, seen a few paragraphs in books, but the Land of Departure is such a small world compared to Scala Ad Caelum. However, this is very obviously an off-shoot of the Scala training school; the only real difference lies in the missing inhabitants. Such spacious halls lack the chatter of students and staff despite the well-kept appearance.

“Identify yourself.”

He stops. That gruff voice rumbles with the faintest hint of familiarity. Curiosity piqued, the young man turns back.

It has to be him; it couldn’t be anyone else. Aside from that traditional style and the Master’s Defender prepared to strike, Xehanort could never mistake those eyes and no amount of hostility could mislead him. There’s no doubt now that Xehanort is far into the future, not while he stares at the aged face of the man Eraqus is to become.

He looks worn, as if the years have been long and hard and those scars prove nearly as much. That welcoming cheer from their very first meeting has been replaced by sheer apprehension, likely caused by his arduous life. It seems he’s become the soldier his parents always pushed him to be; and yet, surely, he can’t have forgotten his beloved.

Cautious hands lift to push the hood back and reveal the face hiding beneath.

Shock takes over the old warrior’s expression. “Xehanort?!”

“Eraqus.” It’s all Xehanort can come up with in his uncertainty.

“How is this possible?!” Resumed suspicion reaffirms that fighting stance.

First and foremost, Xehanort has a mission, one that could potentially fix everything that went wrong in their lives. They could have everything they lost, including the happiness stripped from them far too soon. Additionally, this is Eraqus, the one who saved Xehanort from self-destruction and gave him the motivation to do all these incredible things. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure Eraqus’s happiness. However, the stubborn blueblood often disapproved of Xehanort’s methods as of late and perhaps that’s only gotten worse as the years passed—perhaps plans should be kept quite even from one’s most precious. Having been caught here in the future, Young Xehanort must pick carefully which truths to divulge.

A soft exhale calms the nerves. “I’m from the past,” the traveler confesses. “Brought here by the version of me from this time.”

“How? What for?” Eraqus demands. “What proof do you have for any of this?”

“I can’t say how or why but…”

A well-seasoned Master Eraqus is probably not a fight Xehanort wants to pick, but he’ll need something personal to convince this man of the truth. He knows just the memory, but it’s not pleasant.

Xehanort’s gaze drops to the floor. “You once caught me on the roof of the citadel. You told me…that if I couldn’t find a reason not to step off, then you would make one.”

Eraqus’s mouth presses into a thin line; they never told anyone of that incident.

“So what are you doing here?”

Shaking off morbid memories, Xehanort replies, “Like I said, I can’t tell you that, but I need to find myself from this time. Is he here?”

Eraqus wears a heavy pity that agitates Xehanort—he may still be young with much to learn, but he’s never taken kindly to pity.

“You don’t know anything. You just left, didn’t you…”

“I left Scala several hours ago,” the youth says. That empathy grows. “Why?”

“You…Your older self doesn’t come by often.”

This is unexpected. Even as he left, Xehanort fully intended to visit his significant other once he got things set in motion. Besides, Xehanort is greedy—he knows it. He’s got only the sparsest restraint when it comes to indulging in his partner’s presence, so this statement by the man at the heart of that avarice makes no sense.

“Why not?” Xehanort is not going to remain calm if that look of condolence continues. “When does he come by?”

There’s a solemn shake of the old man’s head. “He doesn’t.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t?!” Xehanort barks, leather creaking with tightened fists. “He has to come visit you! He wouldn’t leave forever—not when you’re the person most important to him!”

The outburst does nothing against Eraqus’s empathy. “I’m sorry. Once you left, we started to view things differently. There were things we simply couldn’t agree on.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?!”

“Nothing I said would’ve convinced you to stay.”

“No!” he shouts. “There’s no excuse! You should have stopped me! If me leaving made you so miserable, you shouldn’t have let me go! You should have cried or begged or even beat me over the head—whatever it took to make me stay!”

Tears form in the man’s eyes and that unwanted compassion pushes Xehanort past his threshold. With renewed determination, he stalks past the elder to resume the search for his future self.

A strong fist catches around the young man’s wrist. “Where are you going?”

His answer is short, sharp. “To do what I came here to do.”

For the third time, Eraqus presses, “And what would that be?”

Xehanort glowers. With a vague restraint in his voice, he spits, “I’m a time traveler; what do you think I’m doing here?”

“You can’t do that! There must be consequences to meddling with the timeline!” protests the elder.

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?!” the young man roars. “YOU THINK THIS IS JUST SOME STROLL IN THE PARK FOR ME?! OF COURSE I’M TRYING TO CHANGE WHAT HAPPENED AND I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT IT COSTS! IT COULD COST MY LIFE AND I WOULDN’T GIVE A DAMN! THEY DESERVED BETTER! YOU—” Fury falters as the words catch in his throat and the edges of his vision blurs. “You deserve better.”

Guilt resonates on that marred face; this is why Xehanort never told him. Eraqus had said a million times over that what happened wasn’t Xehanort’s fault, but a deep sadness settled in Eraqus’s heart that was clear to the Seeker. For Xehanort, the loss of his friends was already unbearable enough, but to have the love of his life stuffing down his turmoil behind a flighty façade tipped the scales. So now he’s here.

With a look of defeat, Eraqus pleads, “Don’t do this. Please.”

“I’m doing this for you.” Again, the older master begins to argue, but the younger has had enough and pulls away. “You couldn’t stop me then, and based on what I’ve seen today, you can’t stop me now. Take care of yourself.”

With that, Xehanort leaves.

It’s been a few hours since the confrontation, but Xehanort still hasn’t found a single clue to the whereabouts of his present self. He’s hopped a few worlds and even double checked those he’d been drawn to in the past, but nothing comes up. Worst of all, something is pulling him back to the Land of Departure. He can’t shake the feeling that, no matter what Eraqus says, Xehanort would return to him eventually. They must still love each other or else he wouldn’t be here.

His arrival is noiseless and unnoticed, but with each step closer to the castle, he hears the escalating sounds of a battle. Peering around a pillar across from the castle steps, Xehanort sees Eraqus squaring off with a young, brunette man.

As he watches, Xehanort notices enough between the two to speculate that there’s a clearly straining relationship. Considering the use of darkness by the younger man and Eraqus’s violent abhorrence of it, Xehanort assumes that’s the cause of the clash. The winner would be an easy call if it were a simple fight, but that boost of darkness significantly closes the gap; so it comes as a surprise when the younger warrior rushes past Eraqus, causing him to stumble. It takes every bit of self-control Xehanort has not to act on protective urges as the Master’s Defender falls from its wielder’s hand.

Terra, as named by Eraqus, is upset with his success. He cries over it, but his master is the one to apologize, admitting that his own heart is full of darkness. That declaration plays in the gray area of Xehanort’s mind. He already knows Eraqus is a good man with his heart bound to the light. What he doesn’t understand is that light, too, can make mistakes—mistakes which may beget darkness. Xehanort has tried explaining this before, but the noble would have none of it.

A dark figure at the top of the stairs catches Young Xehanort’s eye too late. A blaring ring fills his ears seeing that man aim a familiar weapon. There’s no time to react; he’s too far away to do anything. Before Xehanort’s very eyes, the man he loves, and should have always loved, fades.

With the reality of what happened beginning to sink in, his eyes focus on the man strolling down the steps. Anger ignites in his heart until he hears Terra question the stranger.

“Master Xehanort! Why?”

Master Xehanort—that man, the very person who killed his beloved Eraqus, is Xehanort himself.

A dark storm swallows the sky, mirroring the wrath churning in the young man’s chest. With nothing but that rage guiding him, he rushes after the assassin into the dark portal. This new land is empty and barren save the mass of foreboding keyblades strewn about, but Xehanort has other concerns right now. Waiting just outside his attack range is the murderer.

That man’s voice is filled with the gravel of age, but no remorse can be detected. “I wondered when you would arrive.”

“You killed Eraqus.” Fists tremble at the young man’s sides, that quivering creeping into his chest.

“I did.” Only a man scorned like Young Xehanort could withstand those chilling yellow eyes.

Furious, he yells back, “That’s it?! That’s all you have to say?! How could you?! He was the only reason I didn’t throw myself off the citadel! HE’S THE REASON YOU STILL EXIST!”

“Ah, the foolishness of my youth.” His casual dismissal drives the young Seeker’s heart rate up. “It’s true he’s the reason I exist today, but Eraqus’s departure was necessary. You know firsthand how loyal his heart is to the light.”

The response tears from his throat. “AND THAT’S JUSTIFICATION TO MURDER HIM?!”

“He just didn’t understand that this is all for him, to create the life that he should’ve had. You knew there were consequences to meddling with time.”

With no comeback, the young adult sneers, but the old master has one last remark that cuts to the quick.

“As you said: they deserved better—he deserves better.”

The words spoken just hours ago, shoved back in his face, incite the anguish burning in his heart. Rationality devolves and Young Xehanort charges his future self.

All his life, Xehanort let his mind dictate his path. Moves were not made without thought to the consequences, but this—this is something beyond even the purpose of this mission and everything in him is screaming for revenge. Grief and anger cloud his judgement and spur attacks too straightforward to connect, however, that sloppiness doesn’t discourage him.

Old Xehanort swipes, successfully disarming his younger self, and with the same ruthlessness shown to his former love, he eliminates the man from the past.

Golden eyes meet gold; even as he’s being dragged back into his own time, the young man emanates his fury.

Unbothered by the turn of events, the victor simply states, “One day, you will understand.”

~~~~~

The elder watches his past self disappear among the shadows. It’s unfortunate how naïve he was, but this was to be expected—he and Eraqus had been so in love. Xehanort still possesses those feelings, which is why the decision had been so difficult. There’s a hole in his heart but he understands that sometimes things must be broken for them to become better and that’s the sort of thing the Seeker is betting on.

In lieu of these unfortunate circumstances, he’s going to have to prepare a backup—to persuade his young self into venturing into the future a second time.

As the thought occurs, darkness flares from the ground, creating a portal from which steps the young man that just tried to smite him. He’s more prepared than he gave himself credit for. He beckons the young man to follow to discuss the details of their plan. Even as they speak, the senior can see a spark in the new master’s eyes. There’s a curiosity that he will no doubt seek answers for.

“How is Eraqus?”

He should’ve known.

Enacting his hard-earned skill of smothering his emotions, the old man answers, “Eraqus is dead.”

The youth freezes, clearly distraught. “How?”

A deep breath conveys true sorrow while concealing the lie. “The same as the others.”

Hard determination grows on the young man’s face. Knowing that look and knowing himself, old Master Xehanort has ensured his ignorant self’s unquestionable devotion to the mission.

~~~~~

Despair shakes his heart, waking the young man. Opening heavy eyelids, Young Xehanort finds a room illuminated with soft moonlight. Although this is not his room, it’s still familiar. Normally this place would bring him some solace but the discomfort he feels is intense.

Whatever this is, it’s akin to a nightmare, slipping from his grasp as he tries to remember; it’s confusing and upsetting and damn near painful. Xehanort has had days where getting up for training was hard, he’s been injured so badly he’s been unable to stand, and he’s suffered unending fatigue at the hands of depression; but none of that compares to the sheer heartache of this moment and he doesn’t even understand why.

Gentle humming draws his gaze lower and he immediately chokes down a whimper. Pressed flush against him is the love of his life, peacefully snoring away. Even with his messy hair and a little drool, he’s absolutely beautiful. No sight could be more stunning and yet, it’s also the most painful. Whatever vice is clenching down on Xehanort’s heart has to do with Eraqus.

Of course, Xehanort’s always had those fears that maybe he can’t make Eraqus happy or that maybe he’s not good enough—as quoted by the noble’s parents—but even those feel so trivial compared to this dread. It breaks him more than anything ever has.

His quivering is impossible to stifle and sniffles begin sneaking past his defense. To make matters worse, his sleeping partner stirs.

“Xehanort?” Such a sweet sound worsens the turmoil. “Xe, what’s wrong?”

There it is: the first hiccup that destroys the weary dam holding everything in and he breaks down right there.

Eraqus doesn’t press for an answer but instead holds his sweetheart tightly. With the unknown sorrow flooding his system, Xehanort sobs into his boyfriend’s chest, desperately hoping to get this misery under control before he has to say goodbye to Eraqus in the morning.

#xehanort #eraqus #young xehanort #xehaqus #checkmate-zine #kh zine

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lesbianlotties · 3 years

Link

Journeys end in lovers meeting - Sam/Deena - Fear Street x Bly Manor AU - Chapter 2

Chapters: 2/10 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Sarah Fier/Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Christine "Ziggy" Berman/Nick Goode, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson, Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Constance (Fear Street Part 3: 1666), Christine "Ziggy" Berman, Nick Goode (Fear Street), Alice (Fear Street Part 2: 1978), Sarah Fier (Fear Street), Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Solomon Goode (Fear Street) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, The Haunting of Bly Manor AU, Not Canon Compliant, Haunted Houses, Ghosts, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Canon Lesbian Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Au Pair Sam, Gardener Deena, Housekeeper Kate, Cook Simon, Josh and Constance as troubled kids, Ziggy and Nick in an unhealthy relationship, minor Cindy/Alice, Martin cameos, special appearances of all the Shadyside killers as ghosts, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Rest Is Confetti Summary:

The year is 1994. Samantha Fraser recently moved to Shadyside, and she desperately needs a job that will help her leave her troubled past behind. She starts working as au pair at Shadyside Manor, where she is not the only one tortured by ghosts. Grief, regrets, guilt, innocent victims, and an ancient curse. At the center of all of it... love.

Chapter 2:

Sam hadn’t been kidding when she said she would deal with the kids by herself. About nine years as a teacher were worth it. She knew exactly how to balance patience and authority, and exactly when to crack a smile. It wasn’t time for smiles though. It was time to let the kids of Shadyside manor know that their days of self-government were over. Sam was brought there to bring them an education, and that included rules, discipline, and consequences to their actions.

So, if they locked her in a closet, there would have to be a sort of punishment. If they were responsible for the muddy footprints that appeared on the staircase of the house, there would also be a punishment. Nothing too severe, of course. Sam knew even the word punishment seemed too hard for kids. But she knew this would be her only chance at asserting her position in that place.

That was how, after breakfast, Sam found herself with nothing to do while Josh and Constance worked on cleaning up the stairs. Luckily, she was quickly approached by two of her coworkers.

“So, since you have put the kids to do my work,” Kate said. “Why don’t you come hang us for a bit?”

Simon pulled out one of the chairs from the table and with a flourish offered it to Sam, “Miss Fraser, would you care to join us for a mid-morning shit-talking session?”

“Oh, sure,” Sam chuckled nervously and accepted the seat. “And you can just call me Sam.” She couldn’t help repeating herself. She didn’t exactly have good memories attached to her name. She only ever wished to be just Sam.

“Don’t creep her out, please,” Kate told her friend and two of them took a seat as well. “So, Sam, what do you think of the house so far? And the kids?”

The new au pair took her time to answer. “The house is… big. It’s uh, I mean, sure, it looks scary. But once inside, it doesn’t feel as bad as the rumors make it out to be, you know?”

Kate nodded firmly, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Simon grinned playfully and leaned forward on the table as if about to discuss a secret, “You don’t have haunted houses in Sunnyvale?”

Sam chuckled bitterly at that. Apparently, it wasn’t a secret for anyone the place she came from. If only they knew the full story. “No we don’t,” she looked down and shook her head. “Sunnyvale has its different types of hauntings though.”

“What about the kids?” Kate blurted out.

“The Sunnyvale kids?”

“What? No! Constance and Josh,” Kate scoffed, and sent an unimpressed look in Sam's way.

“Oh, right,” Sam laughed nervously. She desperately hoped she wasn’t blushing in embarrassment. Kate was staring at her very intently, studying her. But it was, somehow, not getting exactly the effect she was hoping for in Sam. Because yes, maybe Sam was deeply intimidated. But she could also tell that Kate’s harshness came from a place of being protective of the kids and caring about them. “They seem great, really,” Sam eventually replied. “Constance is bold and Josh is an introvert, but I’ve dealt with kids like that my entire life. I’m going to try my best with them though, that’s for sure. I just… have to get to know them.”

At that moment, Kate and Simon exchanged a look. Sam had no doubt it was true that those two had been best friends for a long time. It seemed like a really important conversation was silently happening between them. Finally, Simon spoke up.

“No, you haven’t worked with kids like them,” he replied, suddenly very careful with his words. “No offense, you know? But, bold and introverted mean different things in Sunnyvale and Shadyside. Here they mean something more along the lines of survivor and traumatized.”

A not completely discreet cough from Kate got him to stop talking. “No, I know, I’m sorry,” Sam was quick to apologize. They weren’t completely wrong. “I know, it’s just, well… I don’t know anything… I mean, what, uh, why…” She ended with a sigh and slumping in her chair, knowing there was no right way to ask the questions she had in mind.

“Constance’s parents died two years ago,” Kate said. She was speaking almost in whispers, but it nearly startled Sam, who didn’t think she’d get any sort of explanation. Afterward, she would hope she hadn’t. “Cindy Berman and husband. Plane crashed. Then, last year… her aunt. Christine killed herself here on the property. Really gives you some perspective into all the fucking rumors, doesn’t it?”

Afterward, Sam was beyond speechless. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a thing to say. That’s when Simon joined in.

“And Josh, he… uh, well, he is not one of the Bermans,” Simon was struggling to explain. “Look, he has his own fucked up past, okay? But I can’t tell you more because Deena would totally kick my ass. It’s their story to tell, you know? The past is the past anyway.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. At least, she hoped she appeared thoughtful. Not too thoughtful though. Just thoughtful enough for someone that has perfectly normal reactions to hearing the name of a very particular co-worker. That momentary panic at least gave her an idea of how to reply to the tough conversation. A change of subject.

“What about you guys?” Sam asked. “How did you end up working at the manor?”

Instantly, Kate seemed to relax. “I just like bossing people around,” she grinned, earning laughter from the other two. “My aunt used to work here. Alice pays well enough. And if you don’t get scared easily, it’s not a bad place to live in.”

Sam smiled at her and then looked at Simon, noticing how he didn’t look half as relaxed as Kate this time. “What can I say?” he smiled in a way that kept a lot hidden. “It pays the bills. It’s close to home. And I fucking love food.”

The au pair decided it wasn’t time to push for more information. Instead, in that brief moment of silence, she turned her head to look through the door at Josh and Constance working on the stairs. They were doing well, but their day was far from over. From her point of view, she had no way of seeing the man standing on the other side of the stairs. Tommy Slater had been standing there for longer than he could remember. He was still wearing his red flannel shirt, still holding on to his axe, still looking impossibly sad, cold, and lonely.

As she made her way to the greenhouse, Sam tried to convince herself she wasn’t nervous at all. She had no reason to be anxious at all. Deena Johnson was another one of her coworkers. Sure, maybe she pulled Sam out of a pretty embarrassing breakdown the previous night. Yes, maybe she had an incredible smile that almost painfully reminded Sam of feelings she had spent a lifetime running from. But… she reached the greenhouse before coming up with a reason not to be on edge.

“Hi?” she called out, tentatively stepping inside the place.

“Over here,” a voice replied from the back of the greenhouse. A voice that was like no other Sam had ever heard.

“Um, hi, Deena,” Sam approached her slowly. “It’s me, uh, Sam.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Deena replied, a small smile on her lips. She stood up from the ground, where she had been kneeling down to work on one of the multiple plants that filled this space. “What do you have there?” Deena asked, nodding toward the plate Sam was holding in her hand.

Sam looked down, as if she had forgotten what it was she was carrying. “Simon,” she blurted out.

“Oh. He looks a little bit different than I remember.”

That made Sam laugh nervously. “I mean, it’s your breakfast,” Sam said. “You didn’t come down for breakfast and Simon asked me to bring it to you.”

Deena nodded slowly, and accepted the plate from Sam’s hands. Then she moved to one of the two chairs at the back of the greenhouse and sat down, inspecting her breakfast.

Afterward, Sam might chastise herself for it, but at the moment she couldn’t help but blurt out, “You’re welcome.”

That earned her an annoyed sigh from the gardener. “Listen, you don’t have to do this,” Deena said.

“Do what?” Sam wondered, taking a seat on the spare chair.

“Play nice with us, with me,” Deena explained, nearly whispering the last part.

“I…” Sam stuttered, she was definitely taken off guard. “Well, we are coworkers now, we live under the same roof, I think-”

“I think you have no idea what you got yourself into. This place, and everyone here, is doomed,” Deena interrupted her. “You’re Sunnyvale, we are Shadyside trash. I know your type. I only hope you’ll run away before the kids get attached to you.”

For a moment, all Sam could do was stare, frown silently at Deena, as the other woman nonchalantly got started on her breakfast, as if she hadn’t just put Sam’s entire mood upside down. It was interesting though, the way Deena chose not to mention the fact that she skipped breakfast just to avoid a set of blue eyes that were too dangerously pretty to wander into Shadyside.

Sam jumped out of her seat, and took a deep breath to reign in her feelings. “You don’t know me at all,” was all she said before walking out of the greenhouse.

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur of hard work, mostly for the kids. Surprisingly though, at one point they stopped looking so bothered about it. Josh wasn’t the kind to complain out loud, but Sam noticed from the way his shoulders relaxed and his lips almost started to smile. Constance, on the other hand, was pretty content complaining as much as possible, but she seemed happier doing something new, entertaining, and different from studying. They especially seemed to enjoy working outside.

Sam had wanted to avoid the unkind gardener as much as possible, but she had already planned this, so there was no turning back. This was part of the kids’ education, hard work, and Sam was proud of her methods. The one thing she wasn’t proud of was the way the gardener was making her feel. Her plan to avoid Deena had backfired. Deena, Kate, and Simon were lounging in the garden, while Sam guided Josh and Constance on their work.

As hard as she tried, Sam couldn’t stop herself from second-guessing what her new coworkers were talking about. Were they talking about her? Good things? Did Kate and Simon feel the same way as Deena? Were they criticizing her? Those smiles on their faces, was that a good or bad sign? Deena’s posture on that chair, the way she held a cigarette, played with the delicate chain hanging from her neck, teased her young brother, locked eyes with Sam precisely once… did it mean anything at all?

The rest of the morning went by easily. Sam dragged Josh and Constance back to the house to continue cleaning, and they had to comply. Tragic as it seemed, they couldn’t complain to anybody. Kate, Simon, Deena, even Alice in the safety of her own home, they all would have supported Sam’s teaching methods at best, would’ve laughed in their faces at worst.

Things couldn’t be perfect though. Sam would scold herself for letting her guard down at all. She had been in one of the bedrooms, assisting Constance with cleaning the windows, when it happened. One second it was just a window, showing the green grounds around the property, nothing more. Then the next second, all Sam could see was his face. Dark. Just a shadow. Furious. Disgusted. Head tilted. Observing her. Unforgiving. Horribly familiar.

Sam let out a yelp of surprise and stumbled backward. She caught herself before falling down to the floor, but not before Constance saw her. At first, the girl chuckled, but she sounded somewhat genuine when she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m- uh, I’m okay,” Sam replied, voice trembling. “Give me a minute.”

She was out of that room before hearing the girl’s reply. She couldn’t move fast enough, but her legs were trembling. She couldn’t shake that image of her mind. Her own particular ghost. The monster that she hadn’t been able to leave in Sunnyvale. Following her reflection everywhere she went.

Sam stumbled down the stairs and out of the house. She finally found refuge behind one of the big bushes on the sides of the entrance. A place where she could break down in peace. She couldn’t stop the tears, and she could hardly breathe, and she was so scared.

“Are you okay?”

The question makes Sam choke one of her sobs. Of all people that could have caught her at this moment…

“I get it,” Deena cautiously added, from a safe distance away. “I swear I had the same reaction after I met Constance.” She could barely see Sam, hiding behind the bush, but she guessed that privacy was exactly what the blonde wanted. “If Josh’s the problem though, just let me know. You aren’t allowed to, but I can totally kick his ass.” That earned her a tearful chuckle from Sam, which was a very good sign. “Just so you know though,” Deena added, “That’s usually my spot for having an emotional breakdown. Now I have to go to this other corner and there are spiders and shit in there, no privacy at all.”

This time, there was a genuine laugh coming from Sam. The tears had stopped, and she managed to find the strength to look over her shoulder, show her face to Deena and say, “Thank you.”

Deena softly shook her head, dismissing Sam’s need to thank her. “You’re doing better than most people could,” she said. Seeing Sam smile sadly, acknowledging her tear-streaked face, Deena insisted, “I mean it.”

There was a pause then. Sam opened her mouth, desperately wishing she could say something else. All she wanted was to ask Deena how she could be so kind and so cruel as if a switch was flipped inside her. But Sam feared that saying more than two words would make her cry again. Deena took that as her cue to go on with her day.

“Back to work then,” Deena said, starting to march back into the house. “Stay strong, Sunnyvale.”

Definitely done with her tears, Sam was having trouble holding back her smile. She tried to sneak another glance at the gardener, but Deena was gone, leaving behind only a pleasant warmth in Sam’s heart and a firm smile on her face.

Nine years of teaching had taught Sam a lot. She knew how to handle kids, that was for sure. The unruly ones, the proud ones, the ones that struggled, and the ones that shined brightly. Simon had been right when he said she had never worked with kids like Josh and Constance. Still, she was prepared to deal with Josh picking up spiders from the garden, and trying to scare her. She didn’t lose her ground even when Constance’s attitude sometimes made Sam feel like she was the teenager out of the two of them.

What she did that day wasn’t the worst Sam had to do for one of her students. Still, it was pretty awkward explaining to Deena how her younger brother had massacred the rose bushes to give the flowers to Sam.

When the two women arrived at the scene of the crime, it was a huge mess. Josh had picked a few roses for Sam and destroyed the rest. He must have been pretty aggressive to earn that small limp he had when he walked toward Sam a few minutes earlier.

The teenager fell to second place in the forefront of Sam’s mind though. She was slightly more preoccupied about the furious gardener gripping the broken stem of a rose as if it were a knife.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Deena yelled, not for the first time in the past minute, and tried to walk away.

“Hey,” Sam stopped her with a firm tone and a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll deal with him, it’s my job.”

Deena took a deep breath. She was pretty much shaking with anger still. She pursed her lips, suddenly aware of the way she had been yelling at the innocent au pair for god knows how long now. She wasn’t good at apologizing though. She slumped her shoulders and exhaled.

“It’s just… he should know better than this,” Deena said bitterly. “We are lucky to be living here. He knows he has to stay out of trouble.” She looked up into Sam’s blue eyes and the careful attention she found there nearly turned her breathless. “That was the deal,” Deena added softly, taking a moment to gulp nervously. “I made a deal with Cindy Berman years ago, when we had nothing. Josh and I could live here, and I’d pay her by working on the grounds of the manor.”

Sam nodded slowly, with a barely-there smile that let Deena know she had listened, and understood. “It’s okay,” Sam said. “I don’t think it’ll be a big deal. I won’t say anything if you don’t.” The two women exchanged a smile. “It’s just a few flowers-”

“It’s not just a few flowers,” Deena protested immediately.

“I know, I know,” Sam quickly said. She was tiptoeing the line between fearing Deena’s temper and being endeared by how protective she was of her plants. “They’re also a weapon, apparently.”

Deena tilted her head in confusion. “Ah,” she said when she looked down at the rose’s stem she was still holding in her hand. She couldn’t say anything else though. Sam had taken the initiative to reach out and gently pry open Deena’s fist to take the stem away. That’s when they both noticed there had been thorns involved. “Shit,” Deena cursed.

“Um,” Sam mumbled pensively as she stared at the couple of red spots on Deena’s hand. “You know, to be a teacher, you have to learn a thing or two about first aid. Do you want help?”

Deena was already shaking her head. Her wild curls shook with her movement. “No, it’s okay- fuck!” She exclaimed in pain the moment she tried to close her hand again. Now there were a few drops of blood on her palm. “Fine,” she grumbled.

Deena was so upset about having someone bandaging her hand, that Sam found the whole process much easier than she had expected. It was a little bit like dealing with a kid, not that she would ever admit such a thing to the gardener.

“So, you really like those roses, huh?” Sam asked while cleaning up the little wounds in Deena’s palm.

“They’re some of my favorites from the entire property,” Deena shrugged. “I like all these plants more than most people, that’s for sure.”

Sam nodded, picking up the bandages. “Why would he do this?” she asked. “Josh, I mean. He doesn’t seem to be the type to vandalize the gardens.”

“He isn’t. There was one bad fucking influence and…” Deena replied. Her words were hiding a lot, but her resentful tone warned the au pair against making any further questions. Instead, Deena looked up and added, “or maybe… he just really likes you, Sunnyvale.”

Sam laughed at that, and ducked her head to avoid those gorgeous brown eyes. Surprisingly, she decided to admit something right then and there in the otherwise empty kitchen of the manor while holding on to Deena’s hand. “You do know I’m not even from Sunnyvale, right?”

“What?” Deena asked. She looked caught off guard for the first time since Sam met her.

“You guys don’t fact-check your gossip, huh?” Sam chuckled. “I was born here, in Shadyside. I moved away when I was little, after my father died, but… I guess, now I’m trying to find my home, you know?”

“Right,” Deena replied.

She blinked slowly, and her eyebrows furrowed into a small frown as she took in the information, the significance of Sam sharing it with her, and the unknown reason why the word home sounded so perfect coming from Sam’s smiling lips.

After a brief silence that felt like it stretched for hours, Deena cleared her throat. “Well, uh, thank you, for giving me a hand,” she said. The mention of her hand made both women realize that this entire time they hadn’t let go of each other’s hands. They pulled away from each other quickly, but nothing could have wiped the smiles off their faces. “It’s not the worst I’ve dealt with so I better get back to work. I guess I’ll see you around… Sunnyvale.”

Sam didn’t even attempt to hold back her grin. Distantly, she wished she wasn’t blushing too much, but that was it. She turned around to watch Deena walk away from the kitchen. Then she was rewarded with the sight of Deena looking back at her once before crossing the doorway.

When she was alone again, Sam leaned her back against the counter and sighed. It was a mixture of contentment and exhaustion. She had tried her best to maintain a good impression in front of Deena, and now she could finally relax. She was starting to understand her better too, how Deena’s boldness came from a good place of being protective over her brother, and maybe even over the whole property. Sam’s exhaustion though, didn’t come from anywhere near Deena, the teens, or the house. She was only realizing how absurdly debilitating it had been to keep up a false version of herself at all times during those years in Sunnyvale. Slowly but surely, she was leaving all that behind.

Sam took a deep breath and straightened up. Then she started to walk out of the kitchen following the path Deena had walked a minute ago. She didn’t have to look back before crossing the doorway, she just kept walking. This way, she missed Ryan Torres’s presence in one corner of the kitchen. Lonesome, unknown, fumbling with the knife he still carried at all times.

“Josh! Constance! You guys are way too old for this kind of game!” Sam was yelling as she walked around the house. She didn’t understand how Kate hadn’t heard her yet.

She wasn’t scared. Just because they had turned off all the lights and she was only barely familiar with the house didn’t mean she should be scared. The kids wanted to improvise a game of hide and seek to avoid going to bed? Fine. Sam wasn’t scared of the dark. In the darkness she couldn’t see her reflection and whatever cursed company she would find there. If she had to drag a couple of teenagers to their beds from their ears then so be it.

When Sam caught sight of the curtains of one room moving strangely, she hurried towards it and pulled at it, but there was nobody there. She sighed, disappointed, stressed, but not scared, not yet. She heard footsteps behind her, and when she turned around, she distinctly heard the front door of the house open. Chills ran through Sam’s spine. It was unsettling, but not too bad, right? She would be deeply upset if she had to chase a pair of teenagers out in the middle of a storm, but it could be worse.

It could be worse… Maybe it was much worse than she imagined. That was the thought going through Sam’s mind when, very slowly, she turned back around to face the window again. At first, it looked like a blur. Then, she feared it was that same ghostly silhouette that followed her everywhere. Somehow, it was worse. Somehow, the figure moved closer and it became clear. There was a man standing on the other side of the window. Tall. Dark hair. Hazel eyes. Smile that never, under any circumstances, would have been mistaken for friendly.

Sam took a step backward, so did he. Then she took off running. Not in the direction some might have expected. She wasn’t running away to hide. She ran out of that room, taking the fireplace poker from its stand and gripping it with force as she rushed out of the house.

“I’m going to call the police!” Sam yelled while the rain poured down on her. “I’m going to call the fucking police!”

She ran toward the window where she’d seen that man. He was nowhere to be seen but, as if it was all part of a pattern, she stumbled across the worst possible scenario.

“Sam?” Josh mumbled. He was just standing there, shaking with cold, drenched from the rain… then he just crumbled down, falling to the ground, unconscious.

#update!!! please read and share and leave comments and i'll love u forever!!#fear street #sameena #sam x deena #deena x sam #sam fraser #deena johnson #fear street fanfiction #my fic

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years

Text

Sicktember Day 3: Chicken Pox/Rash Word Count: 2069 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: G/K Characters: Vato Falman Warning: NA Summary: Of course Falman would be the one to catch a childhood disease as an adult. Notes: AO3 || ff.net

________________________________________

Chicken Pox/Rash

Falman sighed, and idly scratched his wrist while he read the report in front of him. “—the incoming transport was loaded with supplies slated for the southwest region near Yommib. Unexpected delays occurred in the rail system at 1034. Causes were as follows—”

Falman blinked at the page. It was difficult to concentrate on it. He had been reading reports for days and memorizing them for this investigation. The non-stop reading was wearing on him, as silly as that sounded. His head was hurting, and he felt exhausted from spending all day reading these reports. Every time he stood up, his body protested by aching all over. He supposed he had spent too much time hunched over the reports. He even skipped meals, not that he had much of an appetite after reading what the criminals in question were up to. He wished he could take a day to rest, but he knew that it wasn’t possible. The stakes were too high.

He idly scratched at his chest. Did he forget to put in fabric softener last time he washed? It was possible. He had been rather caught up in that book Sheska had recommended to him.

“—Anonymous phone call received at 1025 purporting terroristic activities. Consequential investigation following received call. Mysterious substance on tracks (See report PGH#73940 for analysis). Small landslide approximately 3.5 miles down track (cause undetermined. See report IGF#2739 for further details).

Consequences of delays were as follows: 340 lbs. of meat unusable. 37 passengers missed connecting trains. Lack of support for troops at—"

Falman let out a sigh again and stood up. Breda looked up as he did.

“Goin’ somewhere?”

“I need more coffee,” Falman said.

Breda frowned at him. “You’ve been hitting the coffee hard the past few days.”

Falman nodded. “I know. But something about these reports just…wears at me.”

Breda grunted. “Yeah. I get that.”

Falman just nodded and got himself some more coffee before sitting back down and getting back to the reports.

“—Turnting. Further consequences include the delay of further trains, which had other unintended consequences (See attached report TDN#73849 for list of other related reports). A major consequence of note is the kidnapping of twelve children ranging from ages 14 to 3. This is believed to be part of a ransom and tr—”

Falman sighed, gripped his coffee, and kept reading.

By the time Falman went home, he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. His brain was swimming with facts and reports, and he was looking forward to a night of sleep to help. When he got home, he blearily changed clothes, not even bothering to shower. He’d do it in the morning. He was just too tired and wanted to curl up into a long night of a dreamless sleep.

Unfortunately, Falman didn’t get his wish. It was 0249 when his phone rang. Fuery was on the other end of it sounding more awake than Falman did.

“Sorry, sir, but the colonel said its time. Rendezvous at site omega.”

“Right.” Omega. That was the one furthest from command. “ETA of… twenty minutes.”

“Understood.”

Fuery hung up, and Falman rolled out of bed. He ached and was tired and coughed. He hoped he wasn’t coming down with a cold. That would not be good. Still, he didn’t have time to think about it. Twenty minutes was cutting it close, and he didn’t have time to think of much beyond throwing on his clothes and going through all of the reports in his head. As a last-minute thought, he grabbed a canteen, filled it with water, and stuffed some peppermints in his pocket. His throat felt dry, a bit sore, and Falman figured it was just his luck.

He hurried through the dark night, making his way to the omega site as quickly as he could. His back itched as he did, and he wished he had given himself more time. Maybe he could have put on a little lotion or found a shirt that wasn’t as scratchy. He’d definitely have to remember the fabric softener next time.

He made it to the omega site within the twenty minutes he had allowed himself, although he felt more winded than usual. He carefully entered the building where he knew they had set up a watch. As he entered, he saw that, thankfully, he wasn’t the last one there. Havoc and Hawkeye were both missing, although Breda and Mustang were going over some reports. Fuery approached him, a cup of coffee in hand.

“Figured you could use it,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, definitely. Thank you,” Falman responded. He took a sip, and the warm liquid felt good on his throat.

Fuery frowned at him. “Are you alright, sir? You look a little pale.”

Falman shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I think I might be coming down with a cold.”

Fuery’s brow furrowed. “That’s not good. Are you going to be alright?”

Falman gave him a tight smile and scratched at his chest again. “I’ll be alright.”

“Falman!” Mustang called out, interrupting them. “We need your input.”

“Coming, sir!”

For the next hour, a plan was laid out. Havoc and Hawkeye returned from canvasing the area. This was the group they were after, and they had several of the children held in the facility. Mustang called in more of the men under his command. They weren’t going to take any chances with these children.

And yet Falman kept feeling worse.

He drank coffee, drank water, made his way through all of his peppermints. And yet he still felt bad. His throat was dry, he had a cough, he felt so drained, and he was itchy. What was he so itchy? It was almost unbearable. Maybe it wasn’t that he forgot fabric softener. Maybe he was allergic to something. Maybe he had developed an allergy to his fabric softener. Maybe it was something that someone before him had used, seeing as he used a public laundromat.

It was Hawkeye who finally said something, and Falman found that he was glad that she did. She kept giving him concerned looks, until she finally reached out towards him, her hand going towards his forehead.

“You don’t look good, Falman,” she said. Her brow creased. “You’ve got a fever.”

That caught the attention of the others.

“What?” Mustang said.

“It’s nothing, sirs,” Falman said, scratching at his chest and then at his wrist again. “Just a cold.”

Hawkeye didn’t seem to be buying it. Instead, her hand moved, darting out to catch his wrist. “It doesn’t seem like it to me. And you keep scratching at yourself.” She pushed his sleeve up, and then blinked. The rest of the team looked on.

“What is that?” Breda asked.

Falman looked at his arm. Little red dots, blisters of some sort, dotted his forearm. The passing of his sleeve over them caused them to itch more, and he brought his other hand over to scratch at them. Hawkeye caught it, keeping him from doing it.

“Don’t scratch,” she ordered.

“Off hand, I’d say it looks like chicken pox,” Havoc said. “Or at least it looks like chicken pox.”

“That’s a kid’s sickness,” Breda said.

“Unless you never got is as a child,” Fuery pointed out.

“Or had a light case as a child,” Riza filled in. She focused back on Falman. “Falman. Did you ever have chicken pox as a kid?”

Falman blinked at them. “I—no. No, I never did.”

Hawkeye and Mustang exchanged looks. “Take off your shirt,” Hawkeye said.

“Sir?”

“Just do it, Falman,” Mustang said. “Let’s see how bad of a case it is, and if we can confirm if it’s chicken pox.”

Falman was just miserable enough that he didn’t feel like arguing, and he did as they said. Hawkeye released him, and he pulled off his uniform jacket first, and then the shirt he wore underneath it. A collective breath was sucked in, and honestly, as he looked at his chest, he couldn’t blame them. It was covered in the same red spots. Up his chest, down it, on his shoulders, down his arms.

“Is my back just as bad?” he asked, turning around.

“Oh yeah,” Havoc said.

“Alright, first things first—is there anyone here who hasn’t had the chicken pox?” Mustang asked. There were negatives all around. Everyone else had been afflicted by the disease in childhood, it seemed.

Hawkeye looked over him, worry creasing her brow. “Sir, we probably need to get him to the hospital. Chicken pox is more dangerous in adults. It’s why a lot of parents try to expose their children when they’re young.”

Falman honestly thought the hospital didn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe he could sleep. Although the prospect of this disease being dangerous was worrisome.

Mustang frowned, and then looked at Falman. “Do you think you can last until morning? This op can’t be delayed.”

“Yes, sir, I can,” Falman said, although he didn’t really feel like it. “Although… I’m honestly not sure if I’ll be of much help, sir. I’m sorry.”

Mustang shook his head. “You couldn’t have predicted this. You’ll stay here, assist Fuery in look out duties.”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“In the meantime, rest until it’s time to move.”

Falman nodded, visibly glad for the opportunity to rest. “Yes, sir,” he said.

He found himself a place to rest, and discovered, quite by accident, that Hawkeye was a fairly attentive nurse. Although she was still working on the op, she made sure he had plenty of water, got some medication from somewhere, procured a blanket for him, and got him a wet rag for his forehead. He dozed off and on, his fevered mind only picking up snatches of the conversations around him. When it came time for the operation to go into action, he drug himself up, did his best help watch and relay information, although, to be honest, most of it was a blur in his mind. Now that it had been determined that he was sick, his body seemed to have given up fighting the symptoms. As soon as he could, he was sitting back down.

Falman wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Havoc was rousing him from his sleep, helping him up. He led him down to a car, where Hawkeye joined them. It was only a short trip to the hospital, where he had to wait in the waiting room, was finally looked over, a prescription for a few things were slapped in his hand, and then he was sent on his way. Havoc and Hawkeye drove him back to his place where Havoc helped to settle him in while Hawkeye did something in his apartment.

To be honest, he felt too bad to care what she was doing or about the state of his apartment.

Havoc left, and came back with some sort of lotion, which Falman wasted no time in putting on. Havoc must have felt some kind of sympathy for him, because he helped him spread it on his back as well. The lotion helped, and Falman breathed a sigh of relief as it helped to mitigate the itching, at least a bit. Laying in his bed made his back itchy again, but at least it wasn’t as bad.

Before they left, Hawkeye came in to see him, putting some medicine on his bedside table, as well as a glass of water and a canteen.

“I left some broth for you on the stove, covered up. All you’ll have to do is turn it on to eat. There’s also some soup in your fridge if you feel up to that. I took the liberty too, of setting up what you’d need for an oatmeal bath in your bathroom. I’ve been told that soaking in it helps the itching. Someone will be back to check on you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Lieutenants,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Havoc said. “It’s not like you got sick on purpose. Just rest up.”

“We’ll be back. Call if you need anything,”

“I will. Thank you.”

Falman heard them leave and relaxed as best he could in his bed.

Of course he would get sick.

Of course he would get the chicken pox as an adult.

But at least he had people who cared about him to help him through it.

#sicktember2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #Vato Falman #Heymans Breda #Jean Havoc #Roy Mustang #riza hawkeye #Kain Fuery #fma fanfic #fullmetal alchemist fan fiction

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kosmikowboj · 3 years

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I want to preface this by saying I do Not celebrate Easter and I don’t think TFW would either, but my mom told me a story about how when I was really little we went to an Easter egg hunt and the older kids kept stealing eggs from me, and it cracked me up so much that this ficlet was born. enjoy <3

Napinis

[word count: 1,315]

This was a bad idea.

(Which was why, if anyone asked, Dean was going to say it was Cas’s.)

After stopping the apocalypse for what was (hopefully) the last time and dragging Cas’s ass out of the Empty, Dean had promptly thrown up his hands and retired. At first, that had consisted of wrestling with his sobriety while Cas secretly house-hunted behind his back; then it had consisted of settling down in a small farmhouse with their antichrist baby and some chickens, and a garden in the front yard notorious for its never-ending supply of green beans. Nearly every day when morning broke, Dean would roll over in Cas’s arms and squint against the sun, realizing he had forgotten to close the blinds the night previous; he was still getting used to having to close blinds at all. He lived in a house. With the love of his life and their kid!

That was not the bad idea. By all accounts, that was a fantastic idea—Dean felt a whole lot less shitty about existing when it consisted of Cas, and Jack, and bees on freshly bloomed flowers, and Sunday farmers’ markets. It was peaceful. Dean hadn’t ever thought he would get peaceful.

No, the bad idea was taking Jack to the neighborhood Easter egg hunt. He was all of five-years-old (nearly six), which meant he could run really fast when he was trying to avoid bedtime but not as fast as, say, a boy who was all of eight-years-old. Or multiple boys who were eight-years-old. Consequently, Jack spent most of his egg-hunting time with an empty basket, trotting up to an egg he had found only to have some older kid speed by and snatch it up at the last second. All things considered, Jack was taking it relatively well—he would just kind of blink as if to say, Where’d it go? and then keep wandering around the grass to find more.

It was after about the fifth or sixth egg snatch that he started to get frustrated, and after the seventh that he plopped down in the grass and started crying. His basket was still empty, aside from the single egg they had given all the kids as an example of what to look for, and he pointedly refused to look at it.

“Wanna go home,” he mumbled when Dean hurried over and knelt down next to him. Dean sat down all the way and Jack promptly climbed into his lap, scrubbing roughly at the tears on his cheeks with his hands.

“I’m with you, bub,” Dean agreed, pressing a small kiss to the top of his forehead as he gently pulled Jack’s fingers away from his reddened face. “If your daddy wasn’t busy chatting with the neighborhood moms,” he nodded towards where Cas was talking animatedly with several women about...flowers, or something, “we’d be outta here.”

Cas, in fact, seemed completely oblivious to the fact that their son had given up on their late morning activity, fully engrossed in his conversation. Dean narrowed his eyes, and then looked over to where the rest of the kids were still looking for Easter eggs. They had to be nearing some of the final ones now.

“Hey Jack,” Dean whispered loudly, and Jack perked up almost immediately. He had started calling it "Pops’ adventure whisper,” which always made Dean crack up. “Would you be willing to give it another go if I helped you out?”

“Parents aren’t allowed,” Jack pointed out sadly.

“Neither are asshole kids,” Dean argued.

“Daddy says you shouldn’t say that word!”

“Daddy is too involved in conversation to scold me.” Dean stood up, holding Jack against his chest. He was going to be too big for Dean to do that soon. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

“Okay,” Jack said, kicking Dean’s stomach as a signal that he would like to be put down now, thank you very much. Dean chuckled and set him down, trailing after him as he peeked in bushes and behind trees looking for eggs. Any time it seemed as though someone might take an egg before Jack could get to it, Dean would sprint forward and scare them off, repeatedly sending Jack into a fit of giggles that almost made him forget there were Easter eggs in the offing.

He ended up with a grand total of five, including the one he had received just for showing up, but he didn’t seem to mind his small bounty that much—after it was announced that the hunt was over (and Dean smiled a tad to himself at the realization that this was the only kind of hunt he would have to worry about from now on), he ran over and very proudly showed his basket to Cas.

“Daddy look!”

“Wow!” Cas gasped, smiling as he knelt down to Jack’s level. “You did a great job, Jack. I’m very proud of you.”

“Pops helped,” Jack beamed, looking back at Dean. Dean returned the smile, but was inwardly cursing his kid’s sudden willingness to share credit—he had no doubt he was about to get an earful from Cas about the integrity of the neighborhood Easter egg hunt, and—

“Pops wasn’t suppose to help,” Cas said, scowling over the top of Jack’s head at Dean. Yep, there it was.

“Pops was tired of watching older kids steal from his kid,” Dean shot back.

“Is that why Judith’s son is crying?”

Silence.

“Dean.”

“Cas.”

Cas leveled Dean with one of what Dean called his “angel stares.”

(Nevermind the fact that Cas wasn’t an angel anymore; the ability to intimidate had stayed, apparently).

“I didn’t do anything!” Dean exclaimed, holding his hands up in self-defense. And then, more quietly, “If he got scared by me running at him so he wouldn’t steal from Jack, that’s his problem.”

Cas shook his head, but Dean could see he was trying not to laugh, so he had won, clearly.

“Are you five, Dean?” Cas asked, fighting back a grin as he stood up.

“I’m five!” Jack supplied helpfully. “I have one egg for each year I have been born.” He looked up at his dads hopefully. “I can get six next year.”

“You sure can,” Cas agreed. He held his hand out and Jack took it eagerly, swinging his basket with the other as they started back towards the car (most notably not Baby, because apparently Baby was “atrociously unsafe for a child”). Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

“No pouting. I have two hands,” Cas said, waving his free hand in front of Dean’s face. Dean tried to grab it but Cas pulled it back. “Go apologize to Ryan.”

Dean groaned. “I’ll apologize to Ryan when he apologizes to Jack.”

“He’s eight, Dean.”

“And I’m forty-four. What’s your point?”

“I was hoping my forty-four-year-old husband might have more maturity than an eight-year-old.” Cas rolled his eyes, and then turned them into those stupid puppy dog ones he had learned from Sam. “Please? Judith is going to glare at me the entirety of next week’s book club if you don’t.”

Dean gave a deep, dramatic sigh. “Fine. Can we get paninis for lunch after I apologize, at least?”

“I love napinis!” Jack cheered. “Can we please get napinis Daddy? Please please please—”

“Yes. We can get paninis.” Cas turned to Dean. “You are a terror and a menace.”

“Yeah, well, you have the really hot angel who raised me from perdition to blame for that.”

Cas gave a warm, sunshine smile, kissing Dean softly.

“Gross!” Jack said, making a fake gagging sound to accentuate his point.

Cas and Dean, in typical parent fashion, proceeded to make a bunch of gross fake kissing noises until Jack’s vehement protesting finally broke them apart.

“You still have to apologize to Ryan,” Cas said.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. I’ll meet you and Jack back at the car?”

“Mhm. Love you.”

“Love you too, Cas.”

#my writing #supernatural #spn #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #cas winchester #jack kline #baby jack

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akasgisrightsactivist · 3 years

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Bloodied Lips

[Akaashi x fem!Reader] [Hurt/comfort] [Word count: 4.3k]

What do Akaashi’s bloodied lips taste like after he fought for your honor?

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, injuries / wounds, strangulation / asphyxia

A/n: This happens somewhere between his first and second year of high school. I think everyone loses their cool at some point, and I wanted to explore that situation for Akaashi. This ended up being more autobiographical than I expected.

You found him hiding in the darkness of the club’s locker room.

As the opening door let in the light from outside, it revealed the bloodied lip, a red stain trailing down his chin. That detail was enough to make your heart rush inside your chest.

You’d heard rumors and you had run to find Akaashi. But it was the confirmation of such murmurs that made your head dizzy, unable to believe that your beloved friend had gotten in such a rough fight.

He was calm and collected. He never lost his cool, never lost sight of his goals —or so you thought, because the image of the guy in front of you sitting on the floor, knees pressed against his chest, arms hugging his legs, eyes lost in the void… that image told you a story you wished you’d never witnessed.

Akaashi averted his eyes as soon as you came into the room. After all, it was a story he also wished he’d never written with his own bloody hands.

Yet, you refused to run away. There was no way you’d abandon a friend in need, and you wanted to hear the story from his own lips —surely a different tale from the ones you’d heard around the corners of the school.

It was hard to find the proper words. What could you tell a friend who had just beaten the shit out of a guy? It had been a surprise to everyone —his volleyball teammates, classmates, teachers— how Akaashi, apparently inferior in physical strength to the guy from the soccer club, had destroyed him. One of your classmates had told you about the fire in Akaashi’s eyes as he had punched the soccer player in the face repeatedly —a frenzied expression that had terrified the witnesses.

Maybe you should be afraid too, but the Akaashi in front of you wasn’t that furious beast anymore —he was a meek and ashamed shadow of his self.

You eventually chose the diplomatic option:

“What happened, Akaashi?”

He buried his face into his knees, muffling his reply:

“You already know what happened.”

His voice was almost a sob, a plea for mercy. You entered the room, shutting the door, and you crossed the space in two long strides, finding the window under which he was sitting. You opened the blinds to let the natural light get inside, but his body remained hidden in the shadows, and you squatted by his side.

There was no angle from which you could see his face, but you could now spot the several bruises over his hands, arms, and even the neck, with bloody scratches here and there.

It had been a brutal fight.

“I want to hear it from you, Akaashi.”

You saw his head shake as a negative, his shoulders announcing a sob. Unconsciously, your hand found the space between his shoulder blades, and he winced —unworthy of your touch.

So you stood up, and crossed the room all the way back to the door. He held a sob, listening —expecting you to leave now.

But instead you opened the first-aid cabinet that hid behind the locker room door, and got out cotton, alcohol, and band aids.

As you made your way back to his side, you imagined the steps that had taken him all the way here. He had gotten in that fight until someone had called a teacher. He had then been taken to the vice principal for the corresponding scolding, followed by a punishment —knowing the gravity of the issue, you suspected that Akaashi had been suspended for a couple of weeks, completely unexpected from someone as polite and nice as him. Suspension included not participating in club activities, a big hit for the entire team and everyone’s reputation. And yet, Akaashi had hidden in this locker room… probably to avoid going back home, where his parents would be extremely displeased to learn about his behavior.

It was a huge mess he had gotten into, and you still hadn’t found out why.

You took his arm, poured alcohol on a piece of cotton, and warned him:

“This will sting.”

As you pressed the cotton against his first scratch located near the wrist, he hissed, raising his head and shooting a surprised look at you.

But he didn’t say anything, not after seeing your serious expression, your tightly pressed lips. He let you work on his wounds, no matter how uncomfortable it was for him, and he clenched his jaw to push through the pain —probably believing this to be another punishment for his actions.

The truth was that, in reviewing all the steps until he had hidden in that room, you knew that nobody had tended to his wounds. Surely someone had healed the other guy, but not Akaashi.

“So… Tell me what happened,” you insisted, emphasizing your point by pressing the alcohol-soaked cotton ball against the wound on his elbow.

He shut his eyes tightly, biting his already bruised lip to deal with the sting.

“Nakamura from the soccer club,” he muttered, as if the name itself explained everything.

“Aha. And?”

You knew Nakamura from the soccer club enough to suspect what had happened. He was a beefy guy with an inversely proportional muscle mass to brain cell ratio. You weren’t prone to classifying people by stereotypes, but this guy truly was the brainless athlete who gloated too much about his skills and insulted anyone he didn’t deem strong enough to compete against him.

You suspected he had insulted Akaashi, but your friend wasn’t the kind to fall for taunts.

It surprised you when he instead said:

“He said something very ugly about you, y/n-san.”

Your hand stopped mid-air, the cotton ball hovering a scarce inch away from his next wound.

“Did you get into this much trouble for me…? Akaashi, you didn’t have to, I don’t mind empty insults, I—”

“He called you a whore,” he added, a flame lighting up in his eyes again. “I couldn’t take it, I simply couldn’t.”

“Akaashi…”

“It wasn’t just an empty insult. It wasn’t just a word he said. He was attacking your honor and your dignity for no reason,” he explained, words rushing out of his mouth in a stream he couldn’t control. “He said you were a whore because you had become our manager just to be surrounded by guys, to get into our pants. I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t stand hearing another word, so I shut him up.”

He caught his breath as you remained silent.

Surely it was a hurtful insult, an unprompted one. You weren’t that kind of person, but you also knew how stupid Nakamura was, so paying attention to him was pointless.

Then again, it was time someone ended up punching him after offending everyone who had the bad luck to be around him. You just wished it hadn’t been Akaashi, of all people.

He could lose everything he had fought for —his reputation in front of the teachers, his good grades, his future as a college student, his spot in the volleyball club… all of it because of an insult to you.

The worst of all was the thought that Nakamura looked innocent to the eyes of the teachers, a kind of martyr.

“You’ve risked it all for me, Akaashi. You shouldn’t have…”

“I couldn’t help it.”

You pressed the cotton against a big scratch on his neck and he hissed.

“You are not like this.”

“Am I not?” He replied. “Maybe you don’t know me. Maybe—”

“Stop playing the edgy boy, it doesn’t suit you. We both know you aren’t like this, and you lost the game when you fell for his taunts. He wasn’t even targeting me when he said that, he was targeting you.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. That guy has always been jealous of your poise and your athleticism. He might have muscles, but he’s never had the skills or game intelligence that you have, Akaashi, and now you’re suspended from the volleyball club. Who’s won, huh? You never fall for those things.”

He let a deep breath out of his nose, an acknowledgment to his defeat. You circled his body to tackle the wounds on the other side.

“And he destroyed you, let me tell you,” you added, pointing at the bruises.

“He got worse.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in serious trouble.”

“It was worth it,” he replied, a childish pout on his lips.

You gave him a sad look.

“No, it wasn’t.”

Your reply made him bury his face in his knees one more time, and it made you wonder if maybe you had been too harsh at him. Yet it didn’t feel right to lie to a friend and tell him he’d done the right thing when it wasn’t the case. Nakamura had won the mental fight, he was the victim in the eyes of the world, and Akaashi could potentially lose everything he didn’t deserve to lose.

But he was probably aware of it. Facing the reality of how much he had risked in an inexcusable fit of anger, his only way to cope was to try to find a reason to justify it and make it worth it —a pure lie to himself.

You didn’t know how to comfort him, other than healing the wounds that nobody else had paid attention to. Arriving to his right hand —his weapon of choice— you inspected his purple knuckles, the prints of his vicious attacks.

“I appreciate that you fought for my honor, but I can’t stop thinking about how much you might lose as a consequence. You shouldn’t burn yourself to protect others,” you said, fingertips circling his knuckles and travelling up and down his exhausted fingers. “It isn’t fair.”

All you heard was a sigh as a reply.

“Let me check your neck.”

He reluctantly tilted his head enough to give you space to heal the wounds in his neck. There were red and purple marks that made you wonder if Nakamura had tried to strangle Akaashi, and a knot closed around your own throat.

“Do you hate me, y/n-san?” Akaashi asked in a timid whisper.

You surveyed the storm of emotions inside your mind, the conflicting feelings fighting each other, but it was hard to find anything that resembled hate.

After all, you found it impossible to hate someone like him, not even after such an unexpected but human reaction. Who wouldn’t get angry at such an unfair insult towards a friend? Had you been the one witnessing such a humiliation aimed at Akaashi, wouldn’t you have jumped for Nakamura’s throat?

“Of course not.”

And in the dim light, Akaashi tilted his face just enough for a tear in his eye to catch the light of the afternoon as it filtered through the window.

Your fingers found the space under his jaw, and you raised his chin towards you, examining his face. It was a party of bruises and scratches like the rest of his body, but what truly caught your attention was the broken lower lip, a red trail cascading down his chin.

The single tear dropped down his cheek and you caught it with your thumb.

“But I’d hate if something like this happened to you again.”

With your free hand, you pressed the cotton to the corner of his eyebrow.

“I hate to see you get hurt,” you added. “I don’t want you to lose everything you’ve fought so hard for.”

“I’d do it again for you.”

“No. It’s not worth it. It hurts to see you in this situation.”

You slid the cotton down the side of his face, all the way to his jaw.

Remembering the purple marks on his neck, knowing how brutal Nakamura could be, the image crossed your mind of Akaashi being strangled.

“I don’t want to see you hurt ever again,” you insisted, your thumb caressing his face.

“I can take it,” he argued.

You imagined Akaashi gasping for breath, failing to get air to his lungs. You imagined his life slowly slipping away from his body under Nakamura’s hands.

“If you got hurt again… if I were to lose you…”

You couldn’t find the words to describe the pain you’d feel. There was no other way to shake away the terrible images in your mind, or to describe the emotions inside your chest.

There was no other place in his face that wouldn’t hurt him, so you chose the bloodied corner of his lips to place a kiss, to land your feelings, to dissipate his pain.

You noticed the way his eyes widened as yours closed for a brief and eternal second before you softly pulled back.

In the following silence, his eyes looked into yours for answers.

It took a while to convince Akaashi to go home, and you only succeeded when you took his hand in yours and guided him out of the locker room, where his presence was banned, and promised to walk all the way to his house and speak to his parents.

You were afraid of the consequences he’d face at home, and you thought he’d already faced enough punishment. He regretted his actions, his body was full of wounds, and he got suspended two weeks from school. Aside from that, teachers had lost respect for him and the future of his grades was a big question mark floating in the air.

It was enough punishment for a mistake, you thought.

Upon arriving to his house, he stopped at the entrance, his legs paralyzed by the fear. Surely the teacher had already informed his parents, and he found no excuse around the incident. Telling the truth was the only possibility, and he dreaded the consequences.

After all, he had always been the quiet guy, the good student, the almost perfect kid. His parents weren’t used to this kind of disruption —they didn’t expect it at all from their only child. The destiny of his family relied on his shoulders, and he had betrayed the surname he had always carried with responsibility and effort. You knew all of this, and feared the consequences as much as he did.

You knocked on the door for him, aware of the terrified look in his eyes. Promising that the sooner he went through this, the sooner the pain would be gone, you stood in front of him at the doorstep, waiting for his parents to open the door.

When the wooden panel in front of you revealed the face of Akaashi’s mom, you stood firm, back straight, shoulders back, hands resting in front of your lap, a serene look in your face.

She was angry, but she politely greeted you, even if your presence disturbed her plans. Surely she had gone through the future conversation in her mind over and over, trying to organize the sermon she would throw at her son once he got home.

You were an unexpected event that disrupted the flow in their lives.

“Good evening, y/n,” she said, and her eyes flew to your friend standing behind you. “You’re very late, Keiji. There’s no excuse for you to get home this late after everything that has happened. We need to talk.”

Even if your presence only served for Akaashi’s mom to soften her angry words a bit, it was already worth the walk, but you couldn’t just stand still and let Akaashi suffer more.

He was in enough pain already.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, and I apologize for Keiji’s late arrival,” you explained. “It was my fault. I was talking to him, telling him that what he did was wrong, and tending to his wounds.”

Her angry eyes returned to you, and for a brief second you spotted a shadow of sadness in her expression before she forced herself to return to her stoic demeanor. After all, it was her job as a parent to not crumble in this situation.

“Keiji, get inside. Thank you for bringing him home, y/n.”

Akaashi walked past you, his fingers lightly brushing your wrist as he whispered “thank you, y/n-san” before he went inside and you lost sight of his shape.

In a desperate last attempt, you said to his mom:

“He made a mistake. It was a bad mistake, but he’s aware of it. He has faced the consequences. He was only defending me.”

Now that Akaashi wasn’t there, her face dropped all signs of anger, only leaving behind the pain of disappointment in her expression.

“I know, but some actions are inexcusable, y/n. Please go home, it’s late already.” She bowed at you, and you returned the gesture, bowing deeper. Before she closed the door, she whispered: “You won’t see him in a while.”

And as the door slammed closed, her words hit you deep in your gut.

In the end, there was nothing you could do to help him.

You didn’t see or communicate with Akaashi in two weeks. The despair of his absence made you take the decision of speaking to the teachers and the vice principal, not to revert Akaashi’s suspension but to put in a good word for him, explaining to them how much Akaashi regretted his actions. Some teachers were more understanding than others, and you hoped you could at least help them trust Akaashi again.

The volleyball club wasn’t the same without him, and you could feel the heavy atmosphere as a manager. The members of the team were displeased at Akaashi’s suspension, but after the first days you noticed that most of the guys were in favor of what Akaashi had done.

After all, Nakamura was a pretty unpopular character at the school, and Bokuto in particular had a hard time every time he saw the guy around the hallways.

Two weeks went by painfully slow, and then one morning Akaashi showed up at school again. He had changed, his demeanor even more stoic than usual, his eyes more serious. There was little trace of wounds on his body anymore, but you noticed a tiny scar crossing his lower lip.

Your first chance of talking to him was during lunch break. You sneaked into his classroom, finding him at his table minding his business. It was clear how careful he was in his actions now, afraid that any tiny slip-up would cause his downfall.

Finding a seat in the empty chair right in front of his desk, you shot him a smile.

“Hey, Akaashi. Nice to see you around again. How are you?”

Your stomach dropped when he didn’t return the smile. He continued eating his lunch as he said:

“I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay,” you replied, your happiness now gone.

“It’s hard to earn people’s forgiveness,” he explained, eyes focused on his lunch box.

“Are you angry at me?”

“Of course not.”

You sighed, resting your arms on the back of the chair, and pressing your chin against your hands.

It was hard to read Akaashi, a guy who wasn’t fond of letting his emotions seep through his face. But it was as if the punishment he had received from both the school and his family had hardened him even more.

What if he didn’t like you anymore? What if the feelings you had expressed two weeks ago in the locker room had no validity to him anymore?

“What did your family tell you?”

“They’re extremely disappointed. I know they don’t trust me anymore,” he replied with an apparent detachment that you found unusually painful to listen to.

“Keiji…”

You caught him off guard —chin raising, eyes abandoning the sigh of his food to land on your face. You had never called him by first name before.

“y/n.”

“I’ve missed you.”

He swallowed.

“Me too,” he whispered, almost as if it was forbidden to him to confess his feelings.

“The volleyball team has missed you too. They’re dying to play with you again.”

You leaned forwards, entering the space of his desk, trying to bring some semblance of normalcy and positivity back to his life. You couldn’t imagine what he had gone through in the last two weeks —he would never tell you about the words his family had scolded him with, or the phone talks he might have had with his disappointed teachers, or the empty and lonely nights thinking about how much he missed the school and his friends.

All you could do was to try to push those feelings into the past and help him move forwards.

He opened his mouth to reply when a voice disrupted your conversation. You turned your head to the source of the interruption, finding an arrogant Nakamura standing next to you.

“Well, look who’s back!”

Silence spread around the classroom, followed by the murmurs of classmates surrounding you to witness the scene.

Akaashi cast a glance at the unwelcomed visit, but before you could dread a second fight, your friend returned his attention to his food and to you.

“It was wonderful,” he told you. “I had to do homework, but nothing out of the ordinary. I skipped classes and slept until late. Then I had time to play videogames in the afternoon.”

You blinked at Akaashi. He spoke nonchalantly, picking a rice ball from his box and munching at it, talking with his mouth full. Your eyes widened as he kept explaining the wonders of his daily routine during suspension, and you couldn’t hide the shock at what was clearly a lie —yet Akaashi explained it with a spontaneity that almost sold it to you.

Nakamura tried to interrupt him, speaking louder and louder, only to get ignored consistently by Akaashi.

As if his enemy didn’t exist at all.

You were afraid that the soccer player would get so mad that he’d punch Akaashi, but surprisingly it didn’t happen. In a fit of anger, the guy kicked a desk nearby and eventually left the classroom.

A soft chuckle left Akaashi’s lips.

“He knows he can’t attack me, or he’d get suspended, and he has an important match coming.”

“You’ve changed, Keiji.”

“I have simply learned and evolved.”

He put the remaining of the rice ball into his mouth and licked his fingers. You sneakily removed a single grain from the corner of his lips.

“Did you really sleep until late and play videogames?”

“Of course not, but he doesn’t know that. So… the guys are dying to play with me again, you said?”

“Oh yes. And I am looking forward to seeing this evolved version of you play in an official match. They have a big storm coming.”

It was the first time you saw a genuine smile in Akaashi’s face after the suspension.

“I’m free on Sunday, by the way. I’m not grounded anymore, so how about we meet? My lips hurt so much lately and I need you to fix it.”

A rush of heat climbed up your chest and all the way to your face, which you buried into your hands.

Yes, Akaashi had changed. And you couldn’t believe how blunt he had become.

BONUS (end of first scene)

In the following silence, his eyes looked into yours for answers.

You had just kissed him —there was no room for doubt. Akaashi’s brain functioned at 3000 revolutions per minute, considering every possibility, discarding any that didn’t fit his hypothesis.

It was strange, the location you had chosen to land a kiss. The way your thumb caressed his chin would fit the romantic category better than the platonic one, yet every romantic movie he had ever seen had the couple kissing in the center of the lips. Unlike the traditional kiss, you had found the corner of his mouth instead, but the angle of your lips against his, the surface of your mouth that had come in contact with his… it was undeniably a kiss in the lips, not a kiss in the cheek.

Could this mean what he thought it meant? Could this be a confession of sorts? A revelation of romantic feelings on your part?

As unexpected as it was, it didn’t shock him. He couldn’t say he didn’t see it coming. He had considered this possibility in the past, the chances of this happening only increasing as your friendship with him became more intimate.

Heck, when he had punched that Nakamura guy in the mouth, he hadn’t even felt like a friend protecting another friend’s honor. He had almost spat a “don’t you dare insult my girlfriend” at Nakamura, and he was thankful he hadn’t embarrassed himself in front of everyone during the heat of the fight, for you weren’t his girlfriend —as much as he wished you were.

But if getting in so much trouble had brought about this sweet moment to him, he wouldn’t pull away from it now.

He wasn’t projecting his wishes onto your actions, no. This was a kiss in the lips, there was no doubt about it. This wasn’t a byproduct of his imagination.

Thus, there was only one possible answer.

One second later, his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, and he kissed you back —a true kiss, as it should be, right on the center of your lips.

And then he felt it, the pang of pain crossing his lips, a groan escaping from his throat as he pulled back.

“Your lip is broken, you idiot,” you chuckled, examining the wound on his lower lip as he hissed in pain. “Or why do you think I kissed you on the corner of your mouth?”

You coiled your arm gently around his shoulders, bringing him closer against your body, and you buried your face into his cheek, placing another kiss at the end of his lips.

He still felt the sting, but he smiled.

The pain was worth it.

TAGLIST

@hqxreader

#akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji #keiji akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader

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crystal-moon-101 · 3 years

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History Of Corona & Saporia (Rewrite)

So I mentioned in one of my fic premises, me and my brother made up a whole new history of Corona and Saporia, because he’s a history nerd and said the real story sounded dumb and didn’t make sense. So instead of the child friendly love story, me and him made this! (Also @rachelbethhines salt reviews kind of pushed me to write this too) Warning, it is a little long, but I’ve been wanting to share this for a while now, and I hope you guys enjoy it! ✨

History Of Corona & Saporia

Many years ago, there was a Kingdom brimming with life and culture, living by the sea with luscious land nearby. This Kingdom was called Solstice, well known for their craftsmanship with boats, creative personalities and clever debates. For a long time, the Kingdom rarely suffer majorly. Sure, they would get into disputes with other Kingdoms or neighbouring villages, or simple times where mother nature would be harsh for a few months, but they stood tall and proud, growing in size over the many years.

That was until strange events began popping up. It was mere things at first, heavy rains here and there, strange plagues coming and coming with the wildlife and farm animals, but over the dangerous events became higher and higher in their destruction and damage. Plagues now shifting onto the people, an unusual pattern between having bleeding hot droughts and winter filled blizzards, the local fish even disappearing over time. There were many theories on what was happening, one of the biggest involved either magic or a god upset with Solstice. But one thing was for sure, in that it was no longer safe to stay.

So the King Heller Der Sonne ordered an evacuation of his entire Kingdom, moving them onto their ships to find land elsewhere. Though a few small groups stayed behind or decided to venture elsewhere for a new home. When everything was packed and done, the Kingdom of Solstice sailed out into the waters to begin their search for a new home.

Time passed, and eventually they came across another Kingdom, one that also lied near the ocean, their capital and castle built on an island next to the land. The found this Kingdom to be called Saporia. But here is where history seems to split, two stories formed from this very encounter, both differ depending on which side you ask. For you see, Solstice was planning to land and speak with the Kingdom, in hopes to collect more resources and have a break from sailing, before then heading off to find land. But they had edged close to Saporia, this new Kingdom suddenly attacked them out of nowhere, striking down a ship or two in the process.

Surprised and angered by the unfriendly welcome, Solstice retaliated and attacked the capital, being that would be easy to surround with their boats, especially since the Saporians didn’t have any good defences in the waters. And this attack severely crippled Saporia, since the castle was home to many of their important people, including doctors, engineers, researchers, alchemists and the royal family, while the peasants and farmers lived on the mainland.

There were also two big reasons why the Saporians struggled to fight back during the start of this war, one being that they did have a proper army, but most of it was out fighting in battles and wars outside or at the edge of their homeland that they were already a part of, and it would take time for them to return. The second being that while they didn’t have a good defence in the waters, they had good defences in the skies, that being that their culture created well-crafted sets of airships, but they struggled to use them in the primary fight in the capital, as firing or bombing the city would have been too risky at the time. Plus, since Solstice killed many of the people who knew how to build and fix the ships, they had to be careful when using the Airships, or else they could run out without anyone able to make more at this time.

Eventually, Solstice took over the capital, making it their main base for the war, while Saporia had many outposts around the mainland, setting up their bases around their farmlands. So by the time the second wave of the war was about to start, Saporia’s army returned finally, and Solstice now had grounds to fight on.

However, this start of the story differs a little from the Saporians side, for they claimed that they didn’t start the fight. Before Solstice arrived, Saporia was a grand Kingdom full of intelligent and inventive people, a culture well versed in science and magic. Two well-known inventions known in current times are the airships and memory wands. But this all went downhill when Solstice arrived.

A few days before they came, a few peasants or farmers would keep coming to the castle to give a warning one by one, all saying the same thing. They claimed that there were spies from Solstice that were scouting out the land, even attacking people and starting fires in farms, as if to try and weaken Saporia from the inside. This set the Kingdom on edge, as they couldn’t let these newcomers take over their lands, or come near them even.

So when they saw the boats coming in, they had shot at them in an attempt to make them turn back, perhaps kill them if needed. But of course, that didn’t work, as they had underestimated the powerful water fleet Solstice had, which lead into the start of the war. To the Saporians random strangers came, spied on their lands, tried crippling them on the inside, then committed genocide in their capital and killing their nobles, elites and top scientists and doctors. Thankfully their Queen, Lady Mallory Shampanier, and some of her family survived, managing to escape into the farmlands where they prepared to try and get their home back.

And that is how the war began, with two sides of the stories, both with holes in them. There were arguments about the different sides of the tale, some asking questions like “Why would Solstice want to risk starting a fight with spies if they had their entire Kingdom with them, including civilians?” or “Someone had to have started those fires, and no Saporian would want to damage their homes and farms, so it had to be Solstice, right?”, but by then no one cared around the hows and whys, as both sides had to stand their ground for their home and people.

However, during the near start of the war, both King Heller Der Sonne and Queen Mallory Shampanier had already been old rulers, and could not hold out for long, both eventually succumbing to their ages and dying, passing their roles down to their children. Now the new King of Solstice was Roland Der Sonne, while the new Queen of Saporia was Jarvia Shampanier, both who were ready to carry out their parents and peoples’ wishes.

The war was brutal, many deaths and damages on both sides, with Solstice cutting off their access to ocean resources, and Saporia bombing farmlands close to the capital to ruin their enemies chances for harvesting food from the land. But as time went on, it became clearer and clearer that neither side was winning, in fact, they could risk dying out if they kept this out, perhaps never recovering from the battles if they didn’t stop. Solstice had lost a lot of their people, while Saporia lost a lot of their culture due to most of their knowledge and blueprints had been in the capital, mostly destroyed by the genocide.

But neither side wanted to let up, pressing on and on and on for many years, crippling their Kingdoms and the land around them. In fact, it went on for the rest of King Roland Der Sonne, Queen Jarvia Shampanier lives, as they too eventually passed on like their parents.

This led into the third generation involved with this war, with the new rulers being King Herz Der Sonne and Queen Serilda Shampanier. Now, many people in Corona during these current times know their story, one about true love. Unfortunately, it is not as black and white as it appears to be, and their story of love was nothing but a cover-up for the future.

By this time, both sides were drained and knew the consequences of not stopping would forever be unfixable. So in desperate times, the King and Queen decided to debate and settle matters in a different way. While they discussed, many waited in anticipation, not knowing what the two would do in the end. But after a few days, both come out to the public and announced that they would be uniting the Kingdom through married. Now, Hertz and Serilda never loved each other, that was the reality of it, though they didn’t necessarily hate one another either, they just knew that this might be their only option in saving both their Kingdoms.

There was some arguing and debating between the people, a few unsure or downright upset with the propositions, but by then the majority of them were tired and wanted the war to be over, so they agreed to the idea of their King and Queen. So when the two finally married, their Kingdoms were untied, now going by the name Corona.

However, even that didn’t please everyone. The younger brother of the Queen, Leonard Shampanier, was furious, demanding that his sister break up this deal, as he didn’t want their people to be untied with Solstice, who they still believed started this whole mess. However, his sister denied him, saying she had to do what was right for their people, and at this point it didn’t matter who started what, they just wanted it to end. But Leonard could not accept this, collecting other Saporians who too felt this was wrong, and vanishing out into the forests and valleys, going under the name Separatists of Saporia. They had originally thought about causing an uprising with other Saporians too, but it didn’t go as planned as the King turned it against them, stating that the Separatists of Saporia were trying to start a war again. It also didn’t help that, since they didn’t have access to the Kingdom, they had to steal food from farms, which inturned made the peasants favour the King. So the Separatists of Saporia hid away in the shadows, collecting what remained of their culture, waiting for the right time.

And that is how Corona was formed, under the desperate uniting Kingdoms that sought to end a raging war finally. Herz and Serilda were successful rulers, managing to bring their Kingdoms from the brink of death and building up a new culture, their descendants being King Frederic and his daughter Rapunzel.

Meanwhile, the Separatists of Saporia stuck to the shadows, coming out from time to time to try and find ways to take back their home. Their leader and founder, Leonard, kept their culture alive for as long as he could, having a strong bloodline that followed, one of his descendants being Andrew.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re confused by parts of this story still, mostly about the different sides on how this war started. Well, that’s because not all sides were told, as there is a third story that fits into explaining the truth. But we must go back to the start, back before Solstice ever left their original lands.

This part of the tale as two characters, a young man with a passion for science called Demanitus, the other being a young woman who wanted to understand the unknown named Zhan Tiri. These two were the royal researchers and advisers to the King, well known in their Kingdom for their intelligence and inventions. The two had met young, sharing their passions and want for knowledge, soon finding themselves to be partners and close friends.

They trusted each other, shared with each other, thought with each other, and cared for each other. But as they rose in ranks, soon standing by the King’s side, things began to take a turn for the worst, though very slowly at first. For you see, Demanitus was more favoured than Zhan Tiri, being more approachable and was even a few steps ahead of her in the science field in specific areas. Zhan Tiri was somewhat jealous, but didn’t try and focus on it, instead she wanted to keep working on a particular project with her friend.

The two had heard the stories of the Sundrop and Moonstone, and what power they processed, and so both were eager and had dreams of finding them one day, wanting to learn about them and perhaps even use them to make the world a better place. They made a promise in their youth to find them together and fulfil their dreams.

But as time passed, Demanitus seemed to move on from this goal, getting caught up with his new duties and tasks, wanting the best for his Kingdom, for he had a soft spot for it and his people. Zhan Tiri tried to get his interest back on the stones, but he kept dismissing her as he was far too busy for that. She was, of course, hurt by this and annoyed that the Kingdom kept dragging her friend away from her, but she was also scared that one day he might leave her behind, as he was the only person who ever truly cared about her, her only friend.

So in a desperate attempt to, in a way, improve herself and find a way to draw Demanitus back, Zhan Tiri began delving into magic. It is unclear what happened in these times, as she would often vanish for hours, until coming back a little different each time. Unbeknownst to everyone, Zhan Tiri slowly found a way to infuse herself with raw magic, something that a human should never go through, as it seems to cause a shift in their emotional and mental state, eventually physical too over time.

As she grew stronger in secret, Zhan Tiri decided to put her plan into motion. It started off simple, she just had to make the Kingdom unlivable over time and eventually she could convince Demanitus to leave with her. But that didn’t happen, instead he stayed with his Kingdom as they packed up and left, so she came too, needing to fix of a new idea.

So subtly in the background, she used their research on the Sundrop and Moonstone to pinpoint the location of one of them, and made small suggestions on where to go to the King, influencing his direction on where to sail, soon leading them to the lands where one of the stones could be. Her new plan was that while the Kingdom was settling in their new home, her and Demanitus could go searching for the stone.

But then a new obstacle appeared, that being that the land was already taken by a Kingdom, Saporia. When Zhan Tiri realised that the King wouldn’t stay, instead picking up a few things then leaving, she had to come up with a new plan. And so, with her powers, she kept disguising herself as Saporian farmers and peasants, being the one who kept starting the fires and going to the capital, telling them that Solstice was going to attack.

In the end, she had been the one who started the war by manipulating both sides. She had hoped this would have been enough to get Demanitus to leave with her finally, her mental state crumbling due to the magic she was forcing her body to merge with, her friendship with Demanitus now becoming an obsession. But he still denied her, saying he had to help their people, especially now with this war going on.

By the time King Heller Der Sonne died, Zhan Tiri and Demanitus’s arguments were heated, aggressive and loud, with Zhan Tiri coming up with any reason to get him to leave. It all came to a head when she slipped up, revealing that she had been behind all of this. And when Demanitus rejected her, turning his back on her, it was the final straw that cracked Zhan Tiri, losing herself to her magic and pain towards Demanitus. She vowed to find the stones on her own now, and Demanitus knew he had to stop her.

He had tried to tell his King this, in hopes to end the war and put all focus on Zhan Tiri, who was practically becoming a demon at this point. But the King stated that while Zhan Tiri might have been the one to start this, he couldn’t simply stop the war, as they were in the thick of it and he knew neither side would see reason. So, Demanitus had to start pulling most of his resources onto Zhan Tiri, still helping his Kingdom on the side, but it was overly stressful, even more so when the pupils he took under his wing turned against him too.

The tale between Zhan Tiri and Demanitus continues after this, but that’s a story for another time, though many now that, in the end, Demanitus managed to banish her. Zhan Tiri’s final words to him being that she will destroy Corona, as she had given it to him, and she would take it back...

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

Divided We Fall

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.7k

Summary: In which she feels torn between the man she’s grown to love, whose ideas she agrees with, and her mentor and brother figure - who took her in with open arms and always accepted her when nobody else could.

Warnings: mentions of violence, angst, soft steve as always. you know the drill

A/N: tony’s your sort-of older brother (he took you in to train you not long before howard and maria passed), and you’re around steve’s age? I think? idk. includes a short IW scene but the time skip isn’t as drastic. SUPER SHITTY BC THIS IS A REALLY OLD ONESHOT

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more <3

Steve stood alone in the isle after Peggy’s funeral, leaning against the pew as he stared blankly down at the ground with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

You silently approached him and without introduction, he began to speak. "When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her."

"She had you back, too."

Steve looked up, meeting your gaze. "Who else signed?"

"Tony, Rhodey, Vision, Nat."

"Clint?"

"Says he's retired," you smiled slightly.

"Wanda?"

"TBD. I'm off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet."

Steve sighed and bowed his head.

"Just because it's the path of least resistance," you continued, "doesn't mean it's the wrong path. Staying together is more important than how we stay together."

"What are we giving up to do it?" He shook his head, unconvinced by your words. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I can't sign it."

"I know. I don't want to, either. But it's not like I have any other choice."

"The thing is, you do."

"You know why I am." You gave him a hard stare. "Tony...he's basically the only family I have left. I'm no longer a daughter, no longer a girl with dreams...no longer with hope. I'm a weapon. As much as I don't agree with him, betraying him is the last thing I wanna do. He’s my mentor. I can’t just turn against him like that...it wouldn’t feel right."

"Y/N..."

"You know what I've done," you took in a deep breath, "I don't want to hurt any more people. I don't want to be controlled by a government that might not deem everything big enough of a threat for us to go out and do something about it, but I can't risk any more than I already have. I don't have any other choice but to sign those Accords, Steve."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I didn't want you to be alone."

You stepped forward, carefully pulling him into an embrace and at first, he tensed up at your touch but eventually relaxed, letting his arms wrap around you to pull you closer. And he just held you there, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other one held to the back of your head. Your head was buried in his chest and the warmth of him felt so familiar and safe; oddly comforting, that your chest began to ache because you knew in a matter of time you'd be ripped apart again.

Steve felt guilty. Despite the fact that he was the majority of the reason why all of this was happening, you still found it in your heart to look past it all and forgive him, to accept him for who he was.

The broken woman standing before him was someone he'd grown to care about far more than he wanted himself to. Knowing that it wasn't long before you were taken away from him and forced to stand against him only made his grip around you tighten, as he was afraid to let you go out of his sight.

...

Seeing you across from him on the opposite side of the battlefield, standing firmly in between your Tony and T'Challa, broke his heart. If he was forced to fight Tony's team, he would. But he wasn't going to fight you, no matter what.

Everyone, while they were all busy fighting each other, could clearly tell something was going on between the two of you. But they didn't question it. They could clearly tell Steve loved you too much to even try and lay a finger on you and when someone else tried to, he quickly advanced on them.

You finally caved and turned last minute towards the end of the battle, unable to stand against the one man you cared about more than anyone else that wasn't family.

Everyone's actions followed with consequences. Though you'd switched sides abruptly, you'd been granted permission to stay with Tony at the compound under strict circumstances that you never stepped out of line again, or you'd be sent to the Raft prison along with the rest of Team Cap as well.

"Cap loves you, you know," Rhodey noticed your solemn expression as you, him, and Tony sat around in the lounge, taking in the aftermath.

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you pressed your fingers to your temples. "I made a mistake."

"We all make mistakes. People do bad things when they're trying to survive."

"Tony, I'm sorry," you turned over to the billionaire, "but I just...I couldn't stand against him. Not when we've stuck together for so long." The words that came out of Tony's mouth surprised you.

"I know. He couldn't do that, either."

"We've all done things that we'd like to take back," you murmured, staring down at your hands now in your lap, "Pain makes people change. I'd like to believe I didn't just do this, I didn't almost turn on you guys. You know I didn't want to sign. But I did, because you're like my family. I can't fight my own family." "He's made mistakes, yeah," Rhodey said, "but we've all messed up, you know. We’re only human.”

"My mistake was letting myself love someone I'd have to end up hurting eventually," you stated bitterly, a sharp edge to your voice.

"Cap made that same mistake, too," Tony spoke up. "We all screwed up. Some of us just have to find it in ourselves to forgive...but I don't know if I can do that yet."

"I know," you glanced over at him, "I miss them so much. Your parents...they changed my life for the better."

The billionaire took in a shaky breath. "I miss them too."

"You guys might wanna open this now," Rhodey handed you an envelope with your name on it, and Tony a package with a phone inside. "Tony Stank."

You snorted, and Tony cracked a small smile.

"Table for one, Tony Stank?" you joked.

"You're practically a Stank too, Y/L/N, you know that," he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Tony Stank just sounds funnier."

You quickly fell silent as you opened the letter.

Y/N, I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you and Stark rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine. I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't. I know I hurt you both. I guess I thought by not telling you about Howard and Maria that I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we all agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. I know you didn't want to sign, but you were right in siding with your family. Even though you were on the opposite side of the battlefield, I couldn't fight you. I didn't want to hurt you. I still don't and I never will. No matter what happens. Just know that I ...

"Priority call from Secretary Ross," FRIDAY's voice drifted through the room, "There's been a breach at the Raft prison." "Yeah, put him through."

"Y/N, Tony, we have a problem, Cap and—" Ross called in.

"Ah, please hold," you interrupted.

"No, don't—"

You glanced back down at the letter in your hands, filled from top to bottom with Steve's elegant handwriting.

So, no matter what. I promise you, if you need us, if you need me, I'll be there. It's you, it always has been and it always will be, and I'm sorry for realizing that too late. I'm sorry for not being able to come back. I know I promised I'd always be by your side, and I will. Although I may not in the best situation to return right now, I promise you I'll see you soon. Take care, -S.R.

Several tears welled up in your eyes and slipped down your face as you closed the letter, staining the paper with dark spots.

"So, what'd he say," Tony took in your watery eyes and hard-set jaw. "Something wrong?"

"...He's on the run," your voice broke, "but they're all out. He broke them out.”

...

170 DAYS LATER

It was almost half a year of Team Cap jumping from motel to motel under different names and disguises every night, while still trying to defend the world as best as they possibly could. And when they were caught, Steve was sure that they'd be sent back.

"He'll come back soon, I'm sure of it," Rhodey reassured you as you watched the news of the search for Captain America was still underway. "When someone loves you the way he does, he's gonna find a way to return."

"He doesn't love me. I'm no better than a monster. And...I'm pretty sure he has heart eyes for Sharon."

"Well, he fucked up on that part," he agreed, clasping your shoulder, "but you know what? In the end, he still loves you. We all saw the way he looked at you back in Germany, he didn't want to hurt you. If he truly cared, he wouldn't hurt you even if you were on the opposing side, and that's what he did. I know he's gonna return: for your sake."

"I don't know why I'm letting myself do this."

"What? Loving him? That isn't anything new."

"New?"

"Sweetheart, I knew from the moment I first saw you look at him that you were. Look, love is worth fighting for, but sometimes you can't be the only one fighting. At times, people need to fight for you. You gotta be vulnerable and let him in your heart. Otherwise you'll keep feeling like you're in pain."

He did return.

You'd gone to trial and defended him under your name two weeks prior. Much to your current oblivion, your persuasion had worked and he was granted release and allowed to return, though he did so under the same strict circumstances given to you as well. He was warned to not pull off something like this a second time, and promise to ask for the government's aid whenever necessary.

So you're not expecting to buzz him and the others in late one Friday night.

"Y/N."

"Nat?"

"Can you buzz us in?"

"Uh...yeah, sure," you nodded, opening the gates to let them through. Within minutes, they were standing right in front of you, looking the exact same as they did five months ago, though the exhaustion was clear in all their faces.

"Greetings, Y/N." The android's arm was slung around Sam's shoulders, who was helping to hold him upright.

"Vision."

"It's good to see you guys, Rhodey greeted.

"t's great to see you too," Wanda smiled. She seemed to have aged a bit since you'd last seen her though she was only a teenager, but still looked much younger than everyone nonetheless.

"Well, you guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of months."

"Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five-star," Sam shrugged. "Where's Clint?"

"After the whole Accords situation, him and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families, they're on house arrest," Natasha explained.

She turned to you and gave you a tight hug, squeezing your hand as she pulled away. "Hey. How you holding up?"

"Could be better," you gave her a sad smile. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, hey."

Steve stepped out from behind Wanda and Sam and took a few tentative steps towards you, his feet feeling heavier by the second.

The one man you thought you wouldn't be seeing again for a while was now in front of you, and you weren't sure how to react. Your heartbeat was deafeningly loud in your ears, drowning out the sounds of everything else as everyone fell silent upon seeing you two interact.

"Hey," you responded a few moments later, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets. You lifted your head slowly, an unrecognizable sort of emotion flickering in your eyes for a brief second before you averted his gaze and looked back down at the ground.

He still looked the same, with his dirty-blonde hair and tall, muscular build, those piercing blue eyes and comforting arms. The sight of him alone made your chest ache and your stomach twist itself into knots at the same time you felt butterflies flying around. You hated that you allowed yourself to care about him so much, that your body still reacted to the sight of him even after not seeing him for so long.

"Uh...we'll give you two a moment," Sam awkwardly cleared his throat, leaving the room with the others.

When you glanced back up again you could see just how much being away had affected his overall appearance: his bright blue eyes that glittered with authority and passion had lost their light, red-rimmed and bloodshot with dark circles underneath that indicated it had been days since he last slept.

"I'm sorry, I know it took a while, but I'm here now. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," you said quietly. You swallowed hard, feeling the familiar sting to your eyes as you struggled to keep your tears at bay.

He sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close like you'd done to him before all those months ago, gently rubbing your back. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it still fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his and you sunk into his warmth, his touch making the room feel warmer somehow. His arms that held you were soft and comforting, yet strong and firm at the same time, and the feeling of being so close to him was so dizzying to the point it made your head spin. But you didn't want to let go, so you held onto him as tight as you possibly could.

During the time of his absence, when the majority of your days were spent wandering around the compound alone, you taught yourself to ignore the pressing feeling in the back of your head, the way you felt as if there was some void in your heart that could only be filled by him and him alone. Day by day you attempted to convince yourself that no, you weren't falling in love with him, no, you weren't supposed to fall in love with him because it'd only destroy you in the end.

Yet you still did.

Always playing the part of promoting liberty and justice for all, Steve believed his sole purpose was to inspire and empower others to make the world a better place, blending into the mantra of 'a star-spangled man with a plan.' He always planned things out, always knew what he was doing.

So when he realized as he was holding you there in his arms, that he'd fallen in love with you, he didn't have a plan. And frankly, it terrified him.

He didn't have a plan, so he just decided to go with what his gut told him.

Steve brushed a stray hair that fell across your face and tucked it behind your ear. You looked up in surprise, heart hammering against your chest as his thumb brushed ever so gently against your cheek before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

That's all he needed to do in order to eradicate all the anger, all the pent-up frustration and other emotion inside of you, to make you forgive him for every little thing that he's done to break your heart because there was nothing he could possibly do to make you love him any less.

"I love you," you mumbled as you pulled away, resting your head against his broad chest.

"I know. I love you too."

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aurora077 · 3 years

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The word is 'attempt' (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3 - Jiang Fengmian’s epiphany

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13962595/3/The-word-is-attempt

Jiang Fengmian realised he had some apologising to do, to everyone in his family, but especially to his wife and son. He started with the latest misunderstanding. “A-Cheng, even though I don’t understand you all that well, I never meant for you to think that I don’t care for you. You are the sect heir, I brought up the motto because no matter how well A-Ying understands, I needed you to understand. I correct you because you are mine, don’t you know? Whatever fights your mother and I have, how could I forget who my son is?” He stroked Jiang Cheng’s head tenderly.

He had a lot to make up for. Because though he had never forgotten, he’d always seen him more as his mother’s son… he’d always wished his son was different… always tried to change him.

He’d also disapproved of his wife constantly pitting A-Cheng against A-Ying because he thought that his son just couldn’t compare so what was the use of trying to make him be better than a natural genius? He’d been so caught up in what his wife was doing wrong that he hadn’t realised that he was doing the same thing. He was always subconsciously comparing the two and finding his son lacking. Was it any wonder his wife kept making A-Cheng try to be better than A-Ying when it was he himself who set the standard that to get his approval A-Cheng would need to be more like A-Ying?

It was all his fault. If he hadn’t made his wife and son think that he would replace A-Cheng with one more suited to be a Jiang then would there even be so much conflict? He’d thought it was obvious that Jiang Cheng was the indisputable heir whatever his feelings about him, and that his wife was being ridiculous. But his distaste for his wife had bled onto their son and left both of them feeling like they didn’t belong. Like they were replaceable.

He owed A-Ying an apology as well because he knew his wife took out her frustrations about the situation on the boy and it was mostly his fault (not 100% because A-Ying really was quite naughty. His head disciple often lead the younger ones into trouble as well. But he had let the boy be because his carefree nature was hereditary and also very much like the rogue cultivators who founded their sect. He was very fond of A-Ying. But also he was inclined to let the kids be kids while they, the adults, were still there to bear the brunt of the responsibilities.) Regardless, he had to make amends to his family.

“I’ve been remiss in my duties as a father. What A-Ying did, I praised him for. Not just because he did something impressive, but because he tried his best and succeeded even when it seemed to be an impossible situation and it would have been easy to have given up. I praised him because he embodied our motto, and he deserves to receive recognition for what he did.

Even though he tried to give all the credit to Second Young Master Lan and that infernal Wen Chao is claiming it was him instead, at home at least we can show him that we acknowledge his deed,” he glanced for a moment at Wei Wuxian to show his sincerity (noting that his hand was still intertwined with Jiang Cheng’s). He turned his focus back on his son and admitted what should have been said from the beginning. “But, my son, I’m sorry that I overlooked your efforts. If A-Ying deserves to receive recognition then so do you, and I’m sorry that I did not give you due credit.”

Because his son had made a 10 day trip in 7 days, with no sword, no food and no rest. His son had shown up looking like half a ghost himself, and had immediately gone with them to save A-Ying because if he hadn’t they might have discovered the boys too late. They couldn’t have found them in time without Jiang Cheng. And from what had been said, it was Jiang Cheng who had helped the rest to swim out of the cave. Jiang Cheng had worked together with Wei Wuxian. While one distracted the beast the other helped evacuate all of the other heirs by swimming in the same pool of water as the beast and going down several times to lead each batch of heirs to the hole to escape.

If that incompetent Lan disciple hadn’t shot his ward then Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have been stuck in the cave in the first place. His son had had to make the difficult decision of leaving his shixiong behind to save the heirs that were left in the cave because the blood from A-Ying’s wound would have attracted the beast and went after them.

It couldn’t have been easy for his son to leave him behind and yet he knew he had to get back to Lotus Pier for reinforcements and so he travelled unceasingly until he could return with help. Exhausted and pale he hadn’t had one second of rest and he hadn’t complained at all, more focused on his shixiong’s safety than on his own state. And then when A-Ying had awoken and was joking about being bored while he was trapped in a dangerous situation, Jiang Cheng snapped at him with insensitive words and berated him for playing the hero.

But hadn’t his son done everything he could to make sure A-Ying would be saved? He’d scolded him with harsh words but he’d also helped him to the best of his ability. (And wasn’t that something? Because… he’d always said his son was like his wife, and though his wife was always scolding Jiang Cheng, he’d had no doubts at all that she loved the boy... just that her way of expressing it was harsh… so how is it that he didn’t recognise the same thing in his son? Neither his wife nor his son were straightforward with their feelings. It was increasingly obvious.

And while it wasn’t necessarily a good thing to be so harsh and he still didn’t really condone it, he was coming to realise that they didn’t exactly mean it either. That even though they said harsh things it didn’t mean that they didn’t care. He wished they would be more honest about what they felt but it seems like both his wife and son used anger as a shield. Showing that they cared would make them feel vulnerable.

And if it’s one thing he knew about his wife it’s that she prided herself on her reputation of strength. She wouldn’t want anyone to see her as being vulnerable. She passed on that trait to Jiang Cheng evidently.) After having to leave his injured shixiong behind, trapped in a cave with a terrifying monster and no proper weapons or sustenance for several days, his son must have been so worried and anxious.

To hear Wei Wuxian joking about being bored to death must have upset him and he lashed out with harsh words the way his mother tended to do. It wasn’t nice, but he understood now why his son looked defiant when he scolded him. Because once again he felt wronged and misunderstood by his father. Even A-Ying had said he was just angry and speaking without care. It wasn’t that he meant it, it was just that he let his anger show instead of his worry. And even though it’s a trait that he believed his son should work on, he no longer took the words at face value.

“While I am proud of A-Ying for his accomplishment and for saving Second Young Master Lan and that girl, you my boy, helped save everyone , including A-Ying.”

Who’d not sustained many injuries but who had been so feverish that in a few days time he may have been dead. Lan Wangji, for all his achievements, could not survive with an injury and no food or water for much longer either. He had been so pleased with A-Ying’s achievement that he had glossed over what his son had done because it just wasn’t as impressive as killing a legendary beast at seventeen. But while A-Ying did something heroic, his son took charge of the rest of the sects’ heirs and got them to cooperate and coordinated an escape. And to take over the sect in the future his son didn’t need to be a hero, but he did need to be a good leader.

“A-Ying might have acted in accordance with our motto, but you acted the way a leader should. You’re the future of Yunmeng Jiang. Your burden is far heavier than A-Ying’s. Of all people, I know how difficult it is to have to make a decision when my actions will have consequences for our people. It’s because you are my son, you could not act rashly. I scolded you because I thought you were being thoughtless. But you weren't, were you?” His son jolted slightly as if in surprise that his father would say that.

“A-Cheng, A-Ying is not my heir, you are. It gives him more freedom to act according to his conscience. You are restricted by your duty to our people and that is why you were so worried, isn’t it? You thought his actions would bring the ire of the Wens upon our sect. You wanted him to keep his head down and not draw any undue attention that could bring trouble for the sect, didn’t you? And you were angry and worried when he didn’t take heed and then landed up in a bad situation.”

Jiang Cheng nodded; his eyes were shaking. He had not expected his father to understand him. He never usually did. Jiang Cheng knew he was like his mother in temperament. That was enough for his father to not look deeper into anything he said other than to consider him too much like his mother. Jiang Fengmian never understood his son’s concerns, similar to how he didn’t understand his wife. His father did not abuse him or treat him poorly, but he did not usually show Jiang Cheng any care either.

For all of his mother’s shouting, he knew she loved him. His mother was always worrying about him and pushing him to be better. She always tried to get Father to see him. But Father had never seemed to care about anything he did one way or another unless it involved Wei Ying. His father’s indifference to him had hurt way more than his mother’s scoldings. But his sister had seen all of that and more and had stood up for him. Stood up for all of them. He couldn’t believe she was scolding their parents. He couldn’t believe that his father had actually taken her words into consideration and started thinking about them. His father’s next words also gave him a shock.

“You are smart enough to know what you said wrong but I did not consider your position and perspective and I apologise for misunderstanding you. I apologise for turning a blind eye to your efforts. I will try to be better for all of you. And I’m proud of you son. You did well. Yunmeng Jiang has a bright future in you.”

Jiang Cheng’s lower lip trembled and the tears that had been building began to fall. He was overwhelmed by the things he never thought he’d ever hear from his father.

“A-die’s sorry,” Jiang Fengmian said, holding his weeping son and feeling guilty that he’d caused it. When was the last time he’d held him? And a few kind words from him were enough to make his child sob. What kind of parent did that make him that his son heard so few words of praise that when he did, it made him cry? He really did feel ashamed of himself.

Jiang Fengmian hugged his son until the tears stopped and then he pat his face gently, wiping away the remaining wetness with his sleeve and stepping away. He glanced at Yanli who looked satisfied so it seemed she at least thought he was on the right track.

But he didn’t only have to apologise to his son. His ward deserved an apology as well. Jiang Fengmian sat on the bed, next to Wei Ying, whose eyes widened in surprise at now being the centre of attention. “A-Ying, Jiang-shushu is sorry. I should have cleared up these misunderstandings so much earlier. Please forgive this old man for letting your parents’ reputations be soiled by my inaction. You must often have wondered if I truly cared for them.”

“No! I didn’t think-- Really Jiang-shushu, it’s unnecessary. You don’t need to apologise to me. If it wasn’t for you--” Wei Ying started to say, startled and a bit unsettled at having the sect leader apologise to him, before he was stopped by a wave of Jiang Fengmian’s hand.

“But I do need to. I should apologise to your parents as well. They must be so angry with me for calling myself their friend while letting their precious child be caught in the middle of such sordid gossip. And it is just that, mere gossip. I’m sorry I didn’t consider how those rumours were affecting all of you. I brushed it off because I thought well it’s obviously not true. But for others it may not be so clear. I never meant for anyone to think you a bastard. I never meant for you to ever have reason to question your parentage or my motives for bringing you home. So I will clear up everything right now. As dear as you are to me my boy, you aren’t my son."

"Your mother and I were never involved in that way. We were friends, whatever other feelings I may have harbored. Your mother never once looked at me the way she did your father. Your parents loved each other very much. And they loved you just as well. I always tried my best to not let you feel their absence so much but of course it seems like that backfired. I’m sorry A-Ying. I thought if I spoke about them it would hurt you and make you feel their loss even more. But maybe I should have been speaking about them… should have been helping you keep them alive in your heart instead of trying to fill that void myself.

I know I can’t replace them but I had hoped you would be happy here, like your father was before he met your mother and fell in love. They were so happy when you were born. Your father sent a letter gushing about how cute his little A-Ying was. They were smitten with you from the moment they knew of your existence and I know they would be so proud of you.”

He felt a twinge of guilt in his heart, because he had been glad his wife had borne a son since he needed an heir, but the genuine joy his friends had felt at the birth of their son was lacking because their son was born from a happy, love-filled union, whereas his was made with duty in mind. The guilt grew as he realised that unfortunately, he’d ended up treating his son the same way. Like a duty.

The natural affection that should have been there between parent and child was lacking on his end. And his poor son had been trying to gain it ever since he was little and had always failed because Jiang Fengmian saw him as the second coming of his wife who he’d begrudgingly did his duty with and considered it over. Once again he resolved to do better by them. He’d not let his son feel his apathy anymore.

“I…” Wei Wuxian swallowed thickly after absorbing the words the Jiang Sect Leader spoke, “Thank you, Jiang-shushu. And I.. I am happy here. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m relieved to hear that A-Ying.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes were red. It was the first time he’d been told that his parents would be proud of him. He didn’t know that it was something he wanted to hear until he heard it. Jiang Fengmian had never really spoken to him about his parents before. Everything he knew about them came from other people. He never truly believed in the rumours though, but it did make him uncomfortable because it was clear that Madame Yu put stock in them and it also made Jiang Cheng sad.

Jiang Cheng knew that if his father didn’t show his favour so clearly that people wouldn’t believe that Wei Wuxian was really his child. And what could Wei Wuxian say to that? It’s not like he was wrong. It was obvious to even him that Jiang-shushu preferred him though it was something that he tried not to think about because the guilt would eat him up if he did, even if it wasn’t really his fault.

But Wei Wuxian also didn’t realise that his shijie could tell that it made him feel bad to be in the middle of their family, his very existence causing them problems. He always tried not to burden anyone with his feelings. He was grateful to Jiang-shushu for taking him in and treating him better than a mere disciple. He was close with his shijie and Jiang Cheng, even if Madame Yu didn’t like them fooling around with him.

He had a good life in the Jiang sect. A much better life than one of his station really should have, sharing the room of the sect leader’s son and being allowed to study in Cloud Recesses etc. So he didn’t want to seem ungrateful by talking about his negative feelings. But it seemed that shijie could see right through him. She really was the best.

He locked eyes with her and Yanli was smiling so sweetly at him that his heart lifted. And all the while his hand was still in Jiang Cheng’s, both providing support for each other in the best way that they knew how. They were always better with actions than words anyway. For the first time in a long time, Wei Wuxian didn’t feel restlessness under his skin.

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cyclone-rachel · 3 years

Text

“I can’t stand how they’re looking at you.”

“And how do they look at me?” Querl asked, immediately wishing that he didn’t have to ask such a question. He shouldn’t have had to- he would just know.

Even inhibited, he should at least know his own expressions, or those of other versions of himself.

“Like you’re not as good.” Kara said, looking like those words hurt her to say. “I mean, the way they talked about you too… do they even know about what you’ve been through? What you just told me?”

Querl nodded.

“My female counterpart- the one who claimed to be director of the DEO- She is aware of my limitation.” He said. “She counseled me to remove the inhibitors… and I am sorry to say that she may not understand what it is like to live with them. How many simulations I have run, of taking them off, and the consequences thereof.”

“But do you want to remove them?” Kara asked.

“More than anything.” He said. “In fact, there was an incident- before the Crisis. Your sister and I, we were investigating what we believed to be Rip Roar’s body. But we were set up- in place of the body, was a bomb. And it went off. We were able to get away from it in time, out of its radius. However, when I fell onto the ground, I hit my head… and though it is not the first time I have experienced an injury of that nature, it is the first time one of my inhibitors was damaged in the process.”

“Yeah, Alex told me that.” Kara said. “She also said you were able to fix it, and you carried her back to the DEO after she fainted from the aftereffects of the explosion.”

“That I did.” Querl answered. “But… the inhibitor was not fixed. In fact, its being damaged was what allowed me to discover the location of Leviathan’s headquarters. Even with being partially uninhibited, I felt so much freer… it was exhilarating.”

“You’re still afraid, though.”

He stared at the floor, twisting his Legion ring around his finger.

“I’ve seen it- read the file, rather. What you did while uninhibited yourself, everything you said.”

“The Red Kryptonite.” Kara finished. “Yeah.”

“You know what it is like.” He said. “How did that feel?”

Kara shook her head, unable to look at him either.

“Great, at first.” She said. “Like a weight had been lifted. Every day since I had come to Earth, for the longest time, I was told to hide. Made to be human, try and fit in. My adopted dad gave me lead-lined glasses, to restrict my super-senses. I couldn’t be a hero, like my cousin- even though I knew I was supposed to be. If it wasn’t for the Phantom Zone…”

She sighed, and then continued.

“Anyway- becoming Supergirl helped, for a while.” She said. “For so many years, I had to pretend to fit in, and be Kara Danvers. It felt like lying to myself, to Kara Zor-El… but being a hero set me free, in a way. I could live up to my cousin’s legacy, follow what my parents wanted for me. Especially in my own city that I could save, with my own friends alongside me. I felt powerful, and I could finally own it.”

“And then Maxwell Lord arrived.” Querl remembered. “Several of his inventions, if I recall correctly, were quite problematic in your first year as a hero.”

“Yeah, and that’s an understatement.” Kara said. “When I found the Red Kryptonite, at first I didn’t think anything was wrong. I didn’t want to think anything was wrong. I was just speaking my mind, being honest- I was tired of being pushed around as Kara Danvers, when almost nothing could stop me as Supergirl. And if it had just been left at that, it would’ve been fine.”

“But it was not.”

“Right. I just kept going, and… I got worse. I hurt people. I was so angry, and as much as I thought it felt good, I also needed it to stop. And, thanks to J’onn and Alex, it did. But things weren’t the same afterwards, and for weeks afterward it was all a mess because of me.”

“I am sorry.” Querl said. “That was not your fault.”

“And neither were your inhibitors.” Kara told him. “I promise.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean, of course not- with the family you grew up in, seeing what you did, I can’t blame you for wanting to keep a bottled planet. There was no way you could have known what that really meant.”

Querl gave her a weak smile.

“Besides, if anyone, I’d want to go talk to your parents. Give them a piece of my mind.”

Kara scowled, and kicked at a wall in front of them, a piece of it caving inward from the impact of her boot.

“How dare your dad take a part of your personality from you.” She said. “Even if you were angry, you were still a child- and you didn’t deserve that.”

She raised her eyes to him again, and gently took his hand.

“You still don’t deserve that kind of judgment- not from your father, or anyone else.”

“Including other versions of myself.”

“Exactly.” She said. “Do you want to prove them wrong?”

He squeezed her hand, and together they left the training room.

“Perhaps.”

#papa don't look #supergirl #fanfics #brainiac 5 #kara danvers #karadox #kara zor el #querl dox #minifics #ship: believe in all the possibilities #supergirl season 5 #aaaaah I don't know if this makes sense #this was almost alex and brainy in the deo in season 4 #with the 'they' being haley and lockwood #but i do not remember anything in that season #so i just went to the other brainys in this past season instead #i hope it's good

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years

Text

The Last Night: Part XIX

A/N’s at the end:

Parts I-XVIII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

.XIX.

Earlier that evening…

After seeing his mother to her room for her afternoon nap, Alastair retired for the remainder of the evening in the Institute library. It was the one room in the house, other than the unbearably small closet sized guest bedroom that the Herondales so graciously gave to him, where he could be alone.

After the past week of excruciating pain while the runes and Silent Brother’s magic repaired the bones in his leg, the damage to his head, waiting for Cordelia to wake up, and answering the barrage of questions from anyone with a tongue to speak, he craved the precious minutes he could find of peace. Charles, unfortunately, conducted most of the questioning, which often left Alastair with a headache worse than the one he’d woken up with after being thrown by the demon and cracking his head on stone. Even when it was just the two of them alone, Charles remained callous and professional, only bothering to ask how Alastair was fairing, but he directed most of the questions to the Brother Zachariah rather than Alastair himself. It felt as if their relationship had been nothing more than a figment of Alastair’s feverish imagination. Alastair began to question if it all had, in fact, all been a dream.

Most moments of quiet were spent beside Cordelia. When his mother retired for the night, Alastair would take up her position beside his sister and watch her chest rise and fall like he’d done when his parents brought her home as a baby. She was so tiny then. As delicate, round, and soft as a baby bird with tufts of red hair that already curled around her ears. Only a year and a few months older than his baby sister, he’d sit next to her crib and watch her sleep. He’d listen to the small shushing noise her breathing made, until he’d fall asleep. At some point in the night, he would be placed back in his bedroom, tucked under the blankets, and left under the glowing stars his bedside witchlight made across his ceiling. It wasn’t until Cordelia was a year old, and he was nearly three, that he stopped falling asleep on her floor, but only because his parents made him.

When Cordelia was awake, he wasn’t much different. The first few months weren’t terrible. She slept most of the time except when she was hungry or needed a change. It wasn’t until she was four months that Alastair thought he’d keel over from anxiety. His irresponsible mother would just place her on a blanket on the floor where anything and everything could fall or step on her. Not only that, but as time went on she’d begun to put everything in her mouth from leaves that had fallen off the giant fern in the corner, to splotches of mud from boots, and pieces off of the rug. Alastair was always there to fish out the foreign object from her gummy mouth before she could choke. He’d give her a proper scolding and she’d respond with a toothless laugh and gurgle that made Alastair’s insides feel like mush.

Cordelia was the first word out of his mouth when he woke up from his injuries. He wasn’t certain, but he felt he’d dreamed about her. The remnants of nightmares lingered underneath his skin like he’d been submerged in ice cold water for too long and couldn’t shake the chill. When he woke up and found Cordelia being held in an induced coma while her body healed from injuries inflicted while he’d been unconscious, unable to rescue her, made it difficult for him to breathe or to think. He’d felt like that little boy again sitting beside her crib afraid that the moment he looked away, she’d stop breathing.

When she’d finally woken up, he’d felt a rush of relief. He needed a moment to compose himself in the hallway before he went through her door to find her sitting up in bed, smiling at him with her own relief. But she’d forgotten everything that happened to her since the moment they left the institute, since she broke her engagement with James after he’d properly humiliated her.

He’d meant to warn James against ever speaking to his sister again, but the boy was like a shadow. He slipped in and out of the Institute before Alastair ever had the chance. He visited Cordelia when Alastair was asleep or bathing or being interrogated. And now, she was off galavanting with him and there was nothing Alastair could do to stop it. He wasn’t about to upset his mother by demanding that Cordelia not go with James.

On his way to the library, he practiced the speech he’d give James when they returned. He may be able to worm his way into the good graces of his sister, but not Alastair. It would take a lot more than his pathetic sallow looks and natural wind blown curls to win Alastair over. After everything James has done, he didn’t deserve Cordelia and Alastair made it his mission to make sure that James knew it.

By the time he reached the library, his leg throbbed under his weight. He’d been trying to use his crutch less despite Brother Zachariah’s advice to keep off of it. The sound of his grunt echoed mockingly through the library as he pushed open the door with his shoulder and stumbled inside with a curse.

A fire burned behind the elaborate grate and already had a decent bed of coals forming underneath it as though it had been burning for some time. A stack of books sat on the coffee table that stood in-between the fireplace and the two wingback chairs.

“Christopher,” said a familiar voice. “Is that you?”

Alastair seized and turned for the door. He was nearly there when the library occupant emerged from the middle isle and stopped when Alastair came into his view.

“Oh,” said Thomas, closing the book in his hands. “It’s you. What are you doing here?”

“I thought the room was empty,” said Alastair, adjusting his weight to his good leg. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“How is your leg?” asked Thomas and tucked the book under his arm.

Alastair patted it with his hand. “It’s still there.”

“And your head?”

“Also there,” said Alastair. “The bandages itch something awful and I fear I’ll always have a slight pain in my knee when it’s about to rain, but otherwise, I am nearly mended.”

Thomas slid his hand into his trouser pocket. “Good. That’s good.”

“I never did thank you properly for coming to our aid,” said Alastair, braving a small chance at having a conversation with Thomas after not speaking with him since…well, since the night Matthew revealed Alastair’s deepest regrets. “I’m afraid of what would have happened if you had not come.”

“We did it for Cordelia,” said Thomas, without a note of sympathy in his tone.

“Right.” Alastair nodded. “Of course. Still, I offer you my thanks—“

“I don’t want your thanks,” said Thomas, turning his back to Alastair to return the book to the empty spot on the shelf. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Thomas,” started Alastair as he braved a step closer. He felt as fragile as the thin ice that blooms on a lake at the start of winter. One wrong step and he’d break through. “I know what I’ve done to your family is unforgivable and if there is ever anything I can do to unravel the mess that I’ve created—“

“You can’t.”

“I understand but if there is—“

“My mother cried herself to sleep for months because of the lies you told,” said Thomas, calmly. “She locked herself in her bedroom and wouldn’t let my father in no matter how desperately he begged or how strongly he claimed the rumors were false. She made herself sick to the point where father left only so that she would come out of her room or let someone in to bring her food and water.” Warmth bloomed across Alastair’s face. He wanted to hang his head in shame and fall to his knees, broken or otherwise, and beg for Thomas’s forgiveness, but he did no such thing. Instead, he lifted his chin and continued to listen to the consequences of his actions. “She looked so frail when she finally emerged. Barbara was the first one she spoke to; the only one she spoke to. It took several more weeks before she’d even acknowledge my father. I think she had to convince herself that it wasn’t true before she could believe anyone else. I’m ashamed to admit that even I questioned the validity of it.”

Thomas took a deep breath, his eyes were rimmed with tears, and his mouth set in a hard line. “I just want to know why? Can you tell me at least that? Why attack me— my family?”

The truth dangled on Alastair’s tongue. The truth that would uncover every secret that Alastair buried deep inside and fought his whole life to remain unknown, to everyone, including his own beloved sister.

Because my father is a drunk.

Because I was afraid of anyone finding out the shame he’d caused my family for years.

Because the four of you: Matthew, James, Christopher, and you had something that I never had and would never have because I cannot allow people to get close enough to me in fear that they will be able to see the shame of my family; and they would see what I am. So I took the attention off of my family—off of me— and put it on yours and Matthew’s.

And I can never take it back.

“Tell me!” Alastair shuttered at the pain in Thomas’s voice. He’d never heard him shout, not once, even after Barbara died.

Maybe it was better if Thomas hated him. It meant his secrets were safe. In doing so, he’d keep Thomas from more ridicule and his family as well. Even if Thomas didn’t know it, he’d be doing him a favor. A small one that might cause more pain than redemption or forgiveness which they both seemed to be after.

So he’d let him hate him in hope that maybe one day the truth would be enough.

“I should go,” said Alastair, turning towards the door. “Cordelia should be arriving soon for supper.”

“You’re really going to walk away?” Thomas scoffed. “Are you such a coward that you can’t just tell me the truth?”

“What good would it do?” spat Alastair, the defense he’d carefully been building all of his life built up with even more strength. “You think there is some deep meaning behind my actions? Some explanation that will make me less of a monster. You were an easy target, the four of you. You were defenseless and weird and Matthew was the most irritating of you all. And I heard a rumor and I wanted to humiliate him, because I was bored, and because I could.”

Alastair’s chest ached as the tears spilled from Thomas’s eyes. He quickly wiped at them with his sleeve and when he looked at Alastair again, he recognized the hate that boiled behind his eyes. It was the same hate in his own eyes whenever he looked in a mirror.

“Get out,” whispered Thomas, his voice so low, Alastair almost didn’t hear him.

“Gladly,” said Alastair and pulled open the door. As he turned down the hall towards the staircase, he heard a loud bang hit the wall. He didn’t stop or hesitate, the tapping sound of his crutch hitting the wood flooring echoed through the hallway.

____

The door to the staff hall groaned open just as Alastair walked down the last step. Lucie Herondale, shaking the rain from her hands and muttering something to herself, looked up in surprise to find Alastair standing at the end of the staircase. Her elegant blue dress was stained black at the hem and discolored with rain. Droplets glistened on her skin as she came to a stop underneath a glowing witchlight orb hovering above her. He waited a moment for Cordelia to come in behind her, as she so often does, but when she didn’t his eyes narrowed on Lucie.

“Where is Cordelia?” he asked, subtly gone from his tone as he was far too tired to pretend any longer.

“She was just behind—“

He didn’t wait for her to finish. He had an idea that he already knew.

He moved around Lucie, still muttering her excuses, and pushed open the staff hall door. A few of the maids gossiping in the hallway quickly moved out of his way. Teeth clenched, Alastair followed the trail of rain droplets that Lucie brought in with her until they came to an end at the staff exit. Before he could stop to think for a moment, he grabbed the door handle and yanked it open.

A blind rage consumed him at the vision standing on the little porch. James Herondale with his hands around Cordelia’s waist and mouth consuming hers while her own hands were tangled in his hair.

They broke apart like two dropped links at the sudden intrusion of light.

A high pitched whistle filled his ears. With hands trembling, he reached out and grabbed Cordelia’s arm, wrenching her inside. When James attempted to pursue, he pressed the end of his crutch into his chest and pushed. “Haven’t you done enough to ruin my sister’s reputation?”

“Alastair,” said Cordelia, gripping the arm that kept her behind him.

After a few steps backward, James regained his balance, and smiled a malicious grin that was void of any kindness. “Haven’t you grown tired of causing other people pain?”

“Pain?” Alastair seized with disdain. “What do you know of it in your privileged little life? I’ve taken responsibility for what I’ve done. Have you?” He took a limp step out onto the small brick laid porch. The witchlight lantern flickered with the energy crackling between the two of them. “You may have beguiled her into forgetting what you’ve done, but I certainly have not.”

“Alastair,” cried Cordelia as a crack of thunder rumbled through the sky. He heard the pain and desperation in her voice and he ignored it.

“You’re toxic and dangerous,” continued Alastair as he stepped out into the rain, advancing toward James. “Everything you touch becomes ruin. Trouble pursues you. You use people for your own selfish gain. I may have turned a blind eye before when I knew the engagement was a farce to repair my sister’s reputation, but I will not allow my sister to come into an honest romantic entanglement with the likes of a half-demon sycophant who is only using her for his own selfish gain.”

James’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared down at Alastair as though at any moment he would hit Alastair square in the jaw. Alastair wondered how much farther he’d need to push. What other buttons he’d need to press. “Walk away, Alastair.” James growled so low it was difficult to hear him.

“Or what?” Alastair met his glare. “Are you going to hit me? Go on then, do it.”

“I’m not like you,” said James as rain dripped down his face. “I won’t let you drag me down to whatever miserable level of hell you currently reside. I care about your sister and I’m trying to right my wrongs; I’ve made a lot of them I’ll admit, but I am trying. Can you say the same?”

The question shook through Alastair. The rain dripped down James’s face reminding him of the tears that spilled from Thomas’s face only moments ago because of Alastair’s words. It seemed the people he cared about were evaporating from his life, he wasn’t about to lose his sister too.

“Stay away from my sister,” said Alastair. “I won’t ask you again.”

“Alastair,” Cordelia hissed as he pushed her back into the house and closed the door before James could stop him. He clicked the lock into place as James jiggled the knob. With his crutch securely tucked under his arm, he grabbed Cordelia’s hand with the other. But before he could drag her along, she ripped free from him and pressed her back against the door.

“Don’t be stupid, Cordelia,” hissed Alastair. “You have to be smarter than this. Can’t you see what he’s doing? He’s trying to get back at me for what I did to him at the academy by hurting you!”

“I’m not stupid,” she spat back. Her hair hung in limp curls around her face. Her cheeks had more color in them than he’s seen in months. It irritated him further. “And he’s not. Unlike you he’s trying to move past all of that. You’re not children at the academy anymore, grow up! He cares about me and I care about him and neither of those things have anything to do with you.”

Alastair felt his chest explode, but only laughter burst from his lips. “He doesn’t care about you, Cordelia. He doesn’t. You don’t matter to him. You have to see that.”

“I do matter to him!”

“You don’t,” demanded Alastair. “I’ve seen the way he looks at Grace Blackthorn and it’s not the same way he looks at you. Have you forgotten what he’s done?”

“That was a misunderstanding,” said Cordelia, her eyes brimming. “He explained everything to me.”

“Did he?” asked Alastair. He pointed his finger at the door where James last stood. “How convenient that when he can’t have the girl that he’s actually in love with, he comes groveling back to the girl that gives her love so freely.” Cordelia’s cheeks bloomed red as she tore her eyes away from him. “He’s a liar and he’s trouble and you’re not to see him ever again, do you understand me?”

“You cannot forbid me to see him.”

“Yes, I can.” Alastair glared. “Because if I find out that you are seeing him, I will tell everyone that he was the one that burned down Blackthorn manor and the night we left it was he who was in Grace Blackthorn’s bedroom when you walked in.”

Cordelia looked at him as if he had struck her. “Why are you doing this? Why are you being this way?”

Alastair shook. “I am trying to stop you from making a horrible decision.”

“Stop trying to protect me!” Cordelia demanded. “I don’t criticize you for your choices on who to involve yourself with and I do not appreciate being told who I can or cannot love anymore than you do.” She smoothed the wet hair away from her face. “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t say a word of those secrets. How dare you throw them in my face to accomplish your own vindications. I will not be your pawn in this long standing war you have with him. If you say a word of those secrets to anyone, I will never speak to you again. Then you will truly be alone.”

She shouldered around Alastair, her skirts dripped water as she passed him, and this time Alastair didn’t reach out to stop her.

A/N: Good evening! I hope your October is going splendidly so far. I am experiencing some moderate to extreme anxiety due to work related issues. My job before quarantine has not asked me to return yet, so I found and started a freelance writing job, which in theory should be really exciting, but I have ZERO self-confidence in myself or my writing. So, I’m working through that. This chapter was a fun escape for me. I hope you guys enjoy it! Please hit that cute little heart, drop a lovely comment, and reblog if you feel so inclined. As always, be safe, take care of yourself, and stay healthy out there. Next update will be in two weeks, Nov 1.

#chain of gold fanfic #chain of gold #james x cordelia #james and Cordelia #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #alastair carstairs #the last night fanfiction #cassandra clare #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters #lucie herondale #thomas lightwood #thomas x alastair #thomastair #thomas and alastair

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