#Eris is finally admitting his wrongs and apologizing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ysmtttty · 6 months ago

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Red Ferrari

Chapter 16

Summary: Azris AU, where Azriel is a mechanic and has his own service station. One day, Eris comes there because something is wrong with his car

AO3 link Chapter 15 Epilogue

Eris hadn’t planned on organizing a funeral this weekend.

He had a clear schedule: a countryside trip with Azriel on Saturday. But his father decided to die and ruin everything. Of course, it wasn’t as though his father planned to die in a car accident, but karma’s a bitch, and Eris was grateful to whatever higher powers had made it happen.

He had to go identify the body. Eris never thought saying his father’s name would feel so satisfying. Maybe he was a sick bastard, just like his father. It was... strange.

Azriel placed a comforting hand on his shoulder while they stood in the funeral home, picking out a coffin. Eris thought about how glad he was that Beron wasn’t buried yet; the old man would probably roll over in his grave if he knew Eris’s boyfriend was helping select his coffin.

“I’d cremate him,” Eris grumbled, scowling at the exorbitant prices listed by the funeral director. He wanted to yell at the man for suggesting something so overpriced. Normally, Eris wouldn’t care, but for this? He wasn’t about to waste a dime on his father’s funeral. If it were up to him, he’d just burn the body and dump the ashes in a landfill.

“Why not?” Azriel shrugged. He’d moved past the awkwardness of admitting he was glad Beron was dead. Not that it wasn’t true, but Eris had seen how uncomfortable it had been for Azriel to say it out loud in the beginning.

“Because it’s his damned last wish,” Eris growled, more irritated than before. He probably looked like he was ready to bite the funeral director’s head off if the man showed him another $50,000 coffin.

It had been just over 24 hours since the accident. In that time, Beron had died in the hospital, the police had conducted an investigation, the coroner had drawn some conclusions, and Eris was finally allowed to collect the body. Or rather, required to do so. He’d been told that if he didn’t, something would happen, and even after death, Beron’s lawyers would remain a thorn in his side.

Eris wasn’t even surprised his father had a legal team ready to defend the Vanserra patriarch’s honor beyond the grave. Beron had been paranoid about business and obsessively prideful. Which is why Eris now stood in the funeral home, feeling like half the staff would soon need coffins themselves.

But Azriel was there, steady as a rock. Calm and unmoving, impervious to any storm, hurricane, or gale. He endured Eris’s insults and outbursts without complaint, always staying by his side, later brushing off Eris’s apologies with a quiet reassurance that it was fine and everything would be okay.

Eris wasn’t so sure, given that he still had two professional killers to hunt down in the city. He hadn’t told Azriel this. For now, he’d left the case in Tamlin’s hands, hoping the detective might help, though Eris didn’t expect much. At the same time, he planned to use all of Beron’s resources to find Azriel’s brothers.

He also needed to organize the will reading so his brothers could “rise” against him. Eris was certain Beron hadn’t left them equal shares. No, the old man had loved watching his children turn on one another for his money. Too bad he’d never find out that Eris had told his brothers everything years ago, and they only pretended to fight, knowing their older brother would divide everything fairly in the end.

On top of that, Eris had to invite all of Beron’s business partners to the funeral and even relatives he’d rather not see in a hundred years. Oh, and convince Helion not to grin too widely during the service—though Eris wouldn’t have minded.

And so on, and so on. His head buzzed with the sheer number of tasks he had to accomplish in less than a day. On top of it all, there was his firm—his job and the legal matters he somehow needed to delegate to his team, because he doubted he could handle everything right now. And between endless calls, emails, and lawyer meetings, he’d need to find time for a mental breakdown.

Because his damned father’s death had completely thrown him off balance.

You can’t mourn an objectively terrible parent whose life goal had been to mentally destroy his children under the guise of “this is for your own good.” Therapy bills? Very helpful for the future, as Lucien would say, and Eris smirked at the thought. Adrian would agree.

And that was right. Beron didn’t deserve more. In fact, he deserved far less—a nameless grave in the middle of nowhere so that even if someone wanted to find him (and there was no one who did), they couldn’t. But here they were, and once again, Eris wanted nothing more than to lock himself in the bathroom, press his back against the cold tile, and sort through his thoughts. To calm the storm of emotions and chaos in his head.

But he didn’t have that luxury. There was no time for mourning, regret, or irrational nonsense when Azriel’s life was still in danger from his brothers. The inheritance might not have seemed important, but Eris was sure that Beron’s relatives would swoop in and play as dirty as possible to grab their share if he didn’t oversee everything.

Azriel’s hands massaged his shoulders, easing tension Eris hadn’t even realized he was carrying. He blinked rapidly, realizing they were still standing there, just the two of them, while the funeral consultants scrambled to suggest something that wouldn’t make him threaten to fire them and shut the place down.

“I think you should’ve agreed to that tea,” Azriel said thoughtfully. Eris shot him a dark glare, making Azriel raise his hands in surrender.

“I think you should shut the hell up.”

“I love you too.”

Idiot. A ridiculous idiot saying ridiculous things that, for some ridiculous reason, made Eris feel a little less awful, replacing the negativity with an unexpected warmth in his chest. Until recently, Eris had been certain Azriel wouldn’t say those words often. He hadn’t even been sure he’d ever hear them from Azriel. But here they were, two days later, and Azriel hadn’t stopped saying it.

Idiot, obviously.

Still, Eris didn’t resist when Azriel wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He leaned into Azriel, nuzzling into his neck, his stubble brushing against Azriel’s skin. Azriel simply kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back, whispering something, though they both knew Eris wasn’t in any state to listen through the constant white noise in his mind.

“You haven’t slept all night,” Azriel reminded him, slightly louder. “I’m taking you to a good restaurant where you won’t have to worry about rats in the kitchen. Then you’ll tell me your plan for the day, and I’ll tell you it’s impossible to accomplish it all in 24 hours. We’ll cut the list in half, and after that, I’ll make you sleep, because you won’t function without rest.”

His voice was so calm, so rational. The kind of clarity Eris wished he could summon for himself, lost as he was in his thoughts. Which made Azriel even more of an idiot. A stupidly calm idiot.

“And then I’ll need to talk to you,” Azriel added, and Eris tensed slightly. Azriel must have felt it, noticing the muscles in Eris’s back tighten under his hands.

“It might sound silly, but I need you to listen,” Azriel said.

“When we finish picking a coffin,” Eris muttered before exhaling sharply and stepping back.

He signaled the consultant, who quickly approached and began offering more reasonably priced options. Eris glanced at Azriel, who looked at him with such warmth and undeniable support that he nodded and turned his attention back to the consultant, already knowing he’d end up picking the most expensive coffin anyway.

Afterward, Azriel did take them to a restaurant, and Eris forced himself to eat. He hadn’t felt hungry since hearing the news of his father’s death on the radio. In between calls with doctors, police, and lawyers, Azriel had brought him sandwiches from vending machines, coffee from nearby cafes, and small snacks—just to keep Eris going. But he’d eaten mechanically, knowing only on some subconscious level that he needed to. That if he didn’t want to collapse while dealing with his father’s death, he had to force down the food.

Now, he sat in the restaurant, poking at pieces of meat on his plate with his fork, ignoring Azriel’s concerned gaze. His phone rang again—unsurprising, considering it hadn’t stopped for the past 24 hours. Eris was tempted to block every contact on his phone except Azriel and maybe one or two family members.

Seeing his brother’s name on the screen, he declined the call.

Eris had given them clear instructions: get to the city as early as possible and don’t call with pointless questions. Denver was one of those who annoyingly ignored messages and then asked stupid things later. Eris figured that at 26, a person should know how to read and comprehend, so he decided Denver would figure it out. And if not, surely someone else in the family had inherited some brains.

When Azriel opened his mouth, likely to remind him how important it was to eat, Eris cut him off.

“You wanted to talk,” he said.

Eris noticed the slightest changes in Azriel’s expression. The way his face tensed, how a crease appeared between his brows, and how his features seemed sharper overall. Eris might have realized how serious the situation was and braced himself for the worst, but with everything going on, he simply didn’t have the energy to care.

“I think I’m responsible for your father’s death,” Azriel said in one breath.

Eris blinked. Once. Twice. He saw the tension on Azriel’s face, the barely concealed anxiety that he clearly couldn’t suppress. But… seriously?

Eris couldn’t hold back a laugh, his shoulders shaking with silent amusement.

“I’m serious,” Azriel said, frowning, clearly not expecting this reaction.

“Sorry, I just can’t imagine how you could possibly be responsible for—”

He stopped mid-sentence. The realization hit him fast, and Eris simply stared at Azriel with wide eyes, unable to believe it. No fucking way.

“The white Mercedes,” he whispered.

“With faulty brakes,” Azriel added. “What are the odds it’s the same guy?”

Well, shit. Eris ran a tired hand over his face, feeling both overwhelmed and blank at the same time. A thousand thoughts swirled in his mind, yet none of them settled.

Perhaps Azriel felt some semblance of guilt—not completely because Beron had managed to piss him off enough in a short time that even knowing the consequences, Azriel might have done it intentionally. Still, Eris knew Azriel likely thought about how Beron was still his father.

Eris couldn’t decide if he cared. On one hand, it was wrong—but only because the driver of the Mercedes had also suffered significant injuries. The boy’s parents had confronted Eris at the hospital, ready to tear him apart for what happened to their son, who was now in a coma. Eris had merely shrugged and told them their kid had sped recklessly, robbing him of his parent. That shut them up, leaving them guilty and silent.

On the other hand, it was all just speculation. How many wealthy young men in the city owned white Mercedes? Plenty. Those with faulty brakes? Fewer, but still enough to leave room for doubt.

“I’d feel better if you told me what you’re thinking,” Azriel muttered, staring at the table and twirling a fork in his hands.

Eris gave him a long look, unsure of what to say. What was he thinking? He was confused because his father—so seemingly invincible, unbreakable—had been taken out by a random car accident. One that Azriel might have partially caused.

Even if Azriel weren’t involved, Eris would feel the same mixed emotions. Relief. Freedom. Happiness. Unexplainable grief, the kind he didn’t want to feel. Anger. At himself, at his father, at the boy in the coma who, even knowing about the faulty brakes, had chosen to speed through the city and crash into his father’s car.

All Eris wanted was a break from this endless chain of misfortune and events. Just a moment to breathe. To take a deep breath and feel the silence in his mind for more than a few seconds. To think. To process. To understand. To accept.

“I don’t know, Az,” Eris said quietly. The admission slipped easily from his lips because it was true. He hated not knowing things, but here he didn’t. He couldn’t understand the nature of his emotions, couldn’t sort them into neat mental compartments like he’d been doing since childhood.

That mechanism had been born from necessity. Back then, emotions had been complicated too—his parents’ divorce, custody battles, Beron’s endless cruelty toward his mother, the punishments and lessons, the short periods with his mother that always ended too soon.

Eris had learned to categorize it all. To put situations in boxes in his mind, labeling them as things he could handle one way or another. He wished he could now put his father’s death into one of those mental drawers, to understand how to approach it.

But he realized that wasn’t what Azriel was asking of him. Azriel wasn’t asking him to process everything. Eris understood that Azriel was just worried—about how he would perceive him now, knowing he might have had a hand in Beron’s death.

Eris had no doubts about that.

“It could’ve been anyone—not necessarily the guy you turned away,” Eris said. “You didn’t do it intentionally. That idiot behaved like an ass, and sending him away was your choice. Even if you think you shouldn’t have done that knowing about the brakes, the guy had all the money and resources to find another garage—or just call a cab until his car was fixed. No one forced him to drive a car he knew was broken.”

Azriel stayed silent, listening intently. His face showed he still didn’t want to accept it and still felt awful about the situation. Eris placed his hand over Azriel’s and squeezed, feeling Azriel’s firm grip in return.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel said. “I didn’t mean to put this on you.”

“It’s fine,” Eris replied. “We’ll talk about it more later if you want. Just know I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault, and I would never think it was.”

By the time they returned to the penthouse, Eris had invited everyone necessary to his father’s funeral, setting the date and time for the next day. Waiting for them in the apartment were Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa.

Azriel looked a little surprised, but any questions faded when he noticed an entire crate of cognac and a box of cigars on the table.

Vassa silently hugged Eris, murmuring something that was half-condolence, half-congratulation. Clearly, no one in the room really knew what to say. Azriel didn’t seem to know either.

Jurian offered a cigar, explaining that it was Cuban, left over from a trip to Havana. Eris declined the drink but lit a cigar, earning scrunched noses from both Lucien and Vassa, who disliked the smell. Azriel simply sat beside him, not smoking but not leaving either.

“He really kicked the bucket?” Jurian asked bluntly. Vassa smacked his arm hard, clearly disapproving of the question.

“Not a show,” Eris said, shaking his head. “Unless he had a secret lab growing clones or a long-lost twin he’s been hiding for years just for this occasion.”

Jurian snorted while the others stared, surprised that the theory had been seriously entertained.

“Funeral?”

“Tomorrow at one. The will is being read at four, and after that, we’ll need to figure out what to do with my father’s conglomerate.”

Lucien frowned at the last part. “You’re not taking it over?”

Eris scoffed. “Of course not. Why would I? Maybe Adrian or Tristan will want to take the reins, but it won’t be me.”

Eris had no intention of inheriting his father’s company.

Beron would have wanted it that way—to have his legacy passed on to the son he had groomed for years, keeping him on a tight leash, molding him into someone capable of managing it all. Not just to maintain the company’s stability but to exponentially increase its profits.

In theory, Eris could do it. He had no doubt that, given time, he could learn the ropes and implement changes. But he didn’t want to. The idea of fulfilling Beron’s wishes made his stomach churn.

“What if no one wants it?” Vassa asked.

Eris shrugged nonchalantly. “Then we’ll find buyers and split the profit evenly.”

No one argued. No further questions were raised. Jurian made it clear they were there purely for support. Lucien and Vassa were there to ensure neither of the others did anything stupid—or smoked themselves to death with all the cigars.

Azriel rested a hand on Eris’s shoulder, pulling him closer, the scent of tobacco clinging to him. Eris relaxed, letting out a soft sigh.

“Will they come?” Eris asked Lucien.

“Adrian and Liam are on their way—they took the train because one of those idiots thought it would be more atmospheric,” Lucien said with a snort.

Liam, Eris thought, shaking his head internally. Liam, just two years older than Lucien, was still “finding himself,” dabbling in the arts and making questionable decisions under the guise of “seeking inspiration.” Taking a damn train instead of flying, despite the urgency, was classic Liam. And of course, he’d dragged Adrian along.

“What about the others?”

“Tristan’s already checked into his hotel suite. Denver… who knows. He’ll probably show up for the will reading,” Lucien replied.

Jurian and Vassa both snorted, clearly unsurprised, and Eris didn’t seem to care much either.

Finishing his cigar, Eris handed it back to Jurian, who sprawled even more comfortably on the couch, clearly in no hurry to leave. Lucien lounged in an armchair while Vassa raised a questioning eyebrow at a stain on the carpet. Eris waved her off dismissively.

“How long are you staying?” Eris asked bluntly after a while.

Azriel smirked at his straightforwardness, while Jurian and Lucien both heaved dramatic sighs, pretending to be deeply offended.

“And here we are, braving traffic for three hours to bring the best stress-relievers and offer our company and support!” Jurian lamented, shaking his head.

“I already have excellent company, thank you,” Eris quipped, leaning further into Azriel.

The trio exchanged glances and rolled their eyes.

“So much for decades of friendship!” Jurian grumbled.

Vassa, ever the voice of reason, nudged him off the couch. “We just came to check on you,” she said gently. “You really need to rest.”

Lucien nodded in agreement, but Eris raised a hand to stop his younger brother before he could launch into a lecture about the benefits of sleep and self-care. Everyone seemed to think Eris couldn’t take care of himself—nonsense.

Azriel saw them out while Eris remained sprawled on the couch, too exhausted to get up. No one was offended; his weariness was obvious.

As Jurian and Vassa stepped out, Lucien lingered by the door.

“I’m sure you already do this, but… keep an eye on him,” Lucien said quietly, not wanting Eris to overhear. “He always closes himself off, even in less stressful situations. He’s stubborn about doing everything his way, and now…”

Azriel gave him a tired but understanding smile. “I will. Don’t worry.”

Lucien smiled faintly, murmured his thanks, and left.

Azriel returned to the living room to find his exhausted boyfriend still on the couch. Gently, he coaxed Eris to his feet and guided him to bed, ignoring his protests about how sleeping on the couch wasn’t so bad and wouldn’t ruin his back by morning.

Once in bed, Eris fell asleep almost immediately. Azriel wrapped his arms around him, exhaling as he realized another chaotic day was over. Tomorrow, they’d face the Vanserra family—something that terrified Azriel beyond words. He hadn’t had time or the right moment to bring up that thought.

He’d be meeting all of Eris’s brothers, his mother, and his stepfather—a monumental event if he was honest. Azriel wasn’t planning on ever letting Eris go, so making a good impression was crucial. Unfortunately, the circumstances weren’t exactly ideal for a first meeting.

Hi, I’m dating your son and may or may not have contributed to your ex-husband’s death. By the way, I’m Azriel .

Azriel groaned internally at the thought, though it amused him slightly. He knew Eris would laugh too and likely say something sarcastic along those lines.

After some tossing and turning, Azriel finally managed to fall asleep, though his stress-induced insomnia made it difficult. He hated the cycle it created—days of sleeplessness followed by collapsing for an entire day, then sleepless nights again until he resorted to sleeping aids.

Here, he forced himself to shut his eyes and quiet his mind, knowing tomorrow would bring even less time to rest. The prospect of all this madness eventually ending, however, was undeniably appealing.

When Azriel woke up, Eris was already pacing the penthouse, darting from room to room, muttering under his breath, grumbling at times, and occasionally shouting into the phone from the living room.

Rubbing his eyes and checking the clock, Azriel realized he had overslept—or rather, Eris had let him sleep in. On the one hand, it was considerate. On the other, it meant Eris had been alone with his thoughts for an hour, likely driving himself crazy over things not going according to his perfectly structured mental plan.

“I said we chose mahogany, for fuck’s sake!” Eris growled into the phone.

Azriel winced at his tone, remembering the disastrous trip to the funeral home, where the staff had seemed intent on testing Eris’s patience while he was in his worst state.

Quickly washing up and throwing on something presentable, Azriel headed downstairs, meeting Eris’s housekeeper, who had prepared two breakfasts. One sat untouched, while the other had been halfheartedly picked at, though it looked as though just for show.

“In a bad mood,” she mouthed, nodding toward Eris, who was still prowling the living room like a storm cloud, barking at someone on the other end of the call.

“I can imagine,” Azriel replied, frowning as he glanced toward Eris.

A few minutes later, Eris returned to the kitchen. The housekeeper left to tidy the second floor, and Azriel made two cups of coffee, sitting across from Eris, who clearly had no intention of returning to his breakfast.

“They used the wrong wood for the coffin,” Eris muttered darkly. “Fucking oak. Are their ears filled with wax? I clearly told them—”

“Hey,” Azriel interrupted calmly, meeting his gaze. “It’s fine. If you don’t like something, you can always unleash your lawyers on them and give them so much trouble they’ll never mess up again.”

“It’s still inexcusable. I—”

“It’s not about the wood, is it?” Azriel sighed.

Eris exhaled heavily, closing his eyes. “No, it’s not about the wood.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the occasional clink of a fork against a plate. Azriel slid Eris’s plate closer to him.

For a few seconds, they locked eyes, silently debating over breakfast. Eris’s expression said he’d already eaten, his raised eyebrows daring Azriel to challenge him. Azriel’s firm and unwavering gaze didn’t relent.

Eventually, Eris gave in, muttering about how even in his own home, he had no freedom. But he finished his breakfast.

Afterward, they got ready. Azriel agreed to wear one of Eris’s shirts and trousers, understanding the level of formality required for the day. Meanwhile, Eris grumbled ten times about his crooked tie, changed his shirt five times, and cursed his tailor twice just for good measure.

Sensing a third round of complaints coming, Azriel stepped behind him, wrapped his arms around Eris’s waist, and rested his chin on his shoulder. “You look good. Very presentable. If today weren’t so somber, I’d have a lot more explicit comments to make.”

Eris huffed a laugh but leaned into him, feeling like a cat being stroked. Azriel wasn’t complaining, pressing soft kisses to his cheek and neck.

Reluctantly pulling himself away, Eris shrugged on his jacket, and the two headed to the parking garage.

Half an hour later—during which Azriel cut off five drivers to ensure his passenger princess wouldn’t stress about being late—they arrived at the church.

Gradually, the guests began to arrive. The first to show up were Eris’s brothers. Azriel stood nearby, marveling at how strikingly similar all the Vanserra brothers were. All shared bright auburn hair, amber eyes, sharp facial features, and a smug grin that seemed to appear every time one of them glanced toward the coffin.

Eris introduced Azriel to his brothers, and each responded with something along the lines of "Always knew it," before heading off to take their seats on the benches. That was how Azriel met Adrian, Liam, and Tristan. Lucien also arrived, nodding briefly at them alongside Elain, before they too found their seats.

More guests trickled in, each stopping by Eris to shake his hand and offer their condolences. Eris replied politely but curtly, then directed them to their seats. Azriel followed him closely, silently standing by as moral support and ready to step in if needed, though Eris had things under control.

And then he saw her—a woman, mature in age, with familiar auburn hair. Her facial features were softer, and she wore dark-colored clothing that wasn’t entirely black. She didn’t seem to fit the role of a mourner; her eyes betrayed a certain palpable relief. Beside her walked a man with dark-toned skin and a radiant smile that he made no attempt to hide—at least until Eris shot him a warning glare.

“Helion, Mother,” Eris greeted them with a curt nod. Azriel smiled awkwardly, realizing yet again that this wasn’t the ideal circumstance to be meeting Eris’s parents.

“Eris,” Aurora said, pulling him into a firm hug and whispering something to him that made Eris exhale heavily before returning the embrace.

Azriel glanced at Helion, nodding in greeting, which Helion returned. They exchanged introductions before Aurora stepped back from her son and turned her attention to Azriel. He braced himself for any reaction—from haughtiness to a forced smile for politeness’s sake. Instead, her expression softened into a genuine smile.

“Azriel, correct?” she asked gently, her gaze flicking briefly back to Eris, who maintained his calm demeanor—except for the faint reddening of his ears. Azriel couldn’t help but smile at the small detail he noticed.

“Very correct,” Azriel replied, offering a smile in return. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, just call me Aurora,” she said warmly.

Their conversation might have lasted longer, but more guests arrived, and the ceremony was about to begin. Eris directed everyone to their seats, and Azriel followed. A little later, they sat on the bench together, Azriel holding Eris’s hand as he stared firmly at a single spot.

After the ceremony and the exchange of insincere pleasantries from businessmen determined to stay in the Vanserra family's favor, only the family proceeded to the cemetery. Lucien declined to go, stating flatly that he wasn’t about to drive thirty kilometers out of town for “that bastard.” Instead, he and Helion returned to the apartment they had rented, where everyone planned to gather after the burial for the will reading. Elain also left with her older sister who picked her up, as Lucien had asked her not to stay and risk encountering his more volatile relatives.

Azriel could understand such a precaution. His own family wasn’t much better, so he completely sympathized with the decision. Elain, for her part, didn’t seem surprised. She simply smiled warmly, said her goodbyes to Aurora and Helion—whom she had evidently met several times before—and departed.

Azriel rode with Lucien and Helion. Eris had insisted there was no need for him to come to the cemetery, knowing Azriel was exhausted after all the preparations and running around while trying to support him.

So, the three of them shared a car, and Azriel couldn’t help but think it was the strangest group he’d ever been part of. Helion and Lucien were the epitome of a father-son relationship anyone would envy, joking the entire trip as if they were returning from a barbecue on a sunny Sunday, not a funeral.

“So, Azriel,” Helion said with a friendly smile, and Azriel wondered if this counted as meeting a parent.

Damn Eris hadn’t mentioned how exactly he felt about Helion, leaving Azriel uncertain about how to behave in this situation. Lucien, however, winked at him, silently assuring him that everything would be fine.

“Pleasure to meet you again,” Azriel said, aiming for a balance between formal and familiar, even though he’d never done so before.

In truth, Azriel hadn’t met the parents of his partners before—except for Mor’s, which was a chaotic mess he didn’t want to consider as an example. Especially since Mor’s father had been killed in prison, she had broken up with him long ago, and now lived a life distant and private, which was undoubtedly for the best.

Moreover, Azriel hadn’t been in a serious relationship for so long that he had almost forgotten what this stage felt like. He suddenly felt the need to call his mother and arrange a visit for the next weekend, just to show Eris that not everyone in his family was a lunatic. Eris probably wanted the same.

And now, Azriel was about to spend an entire evening surrounded by the entire Vanserra family. The thought alone was terrifying.

“A mechanic, I hear,” Helion said, clearly trying to start a conversation.

Lucien observed the interaction with open amusement, and Azriel could see why Eris often referred to his younger brother as a “little menace.” He certainly fit the title. Lucien didn’t rush to help, just grinning as the scene unfolded.

“Yes,” Azriel replied with a nod. “I’ve been working with cars for over ten years.”

“Oh,” Helion said, visibly impressed. “That’s admirable. I can’t remember the last time I stayed in one job for more than two years. Always hopping from one to another.”

They struck up a conversation—or rather, Helion did. He started recounting how he had begun working in high school—which, based on Azriel’s calculations, must have been an eternity ago—then proceeded to outline his entire career path, occasionally mentioning his dream of quitting everything to write romance novels. Whenever Helion veered too far, Lucien would interject, trying to rein him in, though his efforts often weren’t successful.

By the time they reached the apartment, Helion was still talking. The monologue ended only when Eris and the rest of his family returned from the cemetery. His brothers looked far too pleased with themselves for people who had just buried their father. Once again, Azriel noted how much relief Beron’s death had brought to everyone in this family. He wasn’t complaining—in fact, he found it oddly satisfying.

Eris immediately collapsed onto the couch where Azriel sat, resting his head on Azriel’s lap and groaning. “I hate driving.”

Despite his boyfriend’s somber demeanor over the past few days, Azriel couldn’t help but laugh at the joke. “Poor thing, you should have asked me,” he said softly, running his fingers through Eris’s auburn hair.

Eris leaned into the touch, humming contentedly with his eyes closed. Neither of them cared about the others watching. “Should have. But you looked so exhausted that I couldn’t make you drive all those kilometers to the cemetery and back.”

“What a touching scene—I’m going to puke,” came a voice from the side. Both Eris and Azriel turned to see the twins standing a short distance away.

“Eris being all sweet and in love? Please, no,” Adrian mimicked gagging.

Liam did the same, and Eris responded by chucking a decorative pillow at them. Naturally, they dodged it and high-fived each other, laughing. Tristan flopped into an armchair and opened his mouth to comment, but Eris raised a middle finger.

“Anyone else in this family wants to weigh in on my relationship?” he arched his eyebrow. Azriel just smiled. “No, Denver, shut up.”

Denver, who entered the living room at that moment with a plate of sandwiches—one of which was already half-bitten and clenched between his teeth—mumbled around a mouthful, “What?”

Based on the stories he’d heard about this man over the past few days, Azriel had pictured Denver exactly like this. Resembling his brothers, tall and broad-shouldered in an expensive suit, but with buttons fastened incorrectly—one skipped, making the rest misaligned. Denver didn’t seem to notice or care.

Eris rolled his eyes and buried his face in Azriel’s lap. “Ignore them. All of them. They’re assholes.”

“We?” the twins gasped dramatically.

“We fully support your choice, brother,” Tristan smirked. “It suits your divorcee aesthetic.”

“Oh, and congrats,” Denver added after swallowing. “Never liked that bitch anyway.”

"Watch your language," Aurora chided as she entered the room at that exact moment. All of Eris’s brothers immediately lowered their gazes, clearly not wanting to upset their mother with bad behavior.

Eris sat upright again and offered her a charming smile. Aurora looked around at them all, sighed, and shook her head.

"The will reading is in an hour. Get some rest," she instructed. That seemed to be the signal, as all of Eris’s brothers suddenly dispersed throughout the apartment with various pretexts. Denver helpfully left a plate of sandwiches behind, saying Helion had made them for everyone, and added, "Help yourself, brother," before disappearing under the guise of a business call.

Only Eris, Azriel, and Aurora remained in the room. Well, part two of meeting the parents. The sequel.

"Eris," Aurora smiled as she sat down in the chair Tristan had vacated, directly opposite the couch. "Now that the atmosphere is a little more fitting, will you properly introduce us?"

Eris, clearly embarrassed—a rare occurrence that caught Azriel off guard since Eris was seldom fazed by anything—cleared his throat before responding. "Mother, this is my boyfriend, Azriel. Azriel, this is Aurora, my mother."

"Pleasure to meet you, again," Azriel said with a polite smile, trying to remember how to be charming and wondering if he had ever possessed such a skill.

Surely he had. Gwyn had once tried to teach him how to smile properly, insisting, "No, Az, that looks like you’re about to mug someone in a dark alley, not ask for lecture notes." That evening, Gwyn had earnestly attempted to refine his charm, despite Azriel’s protests that he could flirt perfectly fine without coaching. Still, when Gwyn got an idea, there was no stopping her.

Aurora smiled warmly in return. "The pleasure is mine," she said gently.

Azriel mentally braced himself for an interrogation or something along those lines. He was utterly out of his depth and couldn’t predict what might come next.

"Eris has spoken a lot about you, you know," Aurora said.

"A couple of times isn’t a lot," Eris began to protest, but she simply raised her hand, palm out, and he fell silent.

"I think Azriel and I would benefit from a little chat over tea. Would you be so kind as to bring us some?" she asked.

Eris glanced skeptically between his mother and Azriel before reluctantly rising from the couch and heading toward the kitchen. Well, this was it, Azriel thought, his end. But something about Aurora’s warm and sincere smile calmed his nerves almost immediately.

Eris hated will readings. He had attended several, typically for distant relatives like great-uncles, where Beron had dragged him along, knowing the family would likely inherit something, and Eris would be among the listed beneficiaries. Beron never forced his other sons to attend such events, deeming them either too young or too unremarkable in the eyes of the old men.

Eris was the exception—the eldest Vanserra son. The golden child, polite, clever, and disciplined, perfectly curated to leave a lasting impression. Naturally, Beron paraded him around as though he genuinely loved him. Sometimes they even hired a makeup artist to conceal any bruises on his face or visible parts of his body, ensuring Eris could maintain the illusion of being the beloved heir.

This time was no different. The gathered relatives likely assumed Eris was truly grieving the loss of his father. And perhaps, somewhere deep down, he felt a pang of loss. But those emotions were buried so far within him that he wasn’t about to dredge them up. Right now, all he felt was exhaustion and the strange relief of knowing this was the final step before freedom.

He still had no idea what his mother had said to Azriel during their lengthy one-on-one conversation. Both of them refused to share. The audacity. Azriel had simply brushed it off, claiming it was nothing special. Nothing special? Yeah, right.

Since that conversation, Azriel had been glowing so brightly that Eris joked he’d need sunglasses to avoid being blinded. But before he had the chance to interrogate Azriel properly, the first relatives began to arrive.

Each of them, just like at the funeral, offered their condolences, as though they had no idea what kind of man Beron had been. Eris suspected they knew all along but never thought to intervene. Never considered protecting him from the tyrant because siding with Beron was far more advantageous. No one wanted to risk falling out of favor with him for the sake of some kid.

After ushering everyone into the living room, Eris gave the floor to the executor of the will, who sat at a table that had been dragged in for the occasion. The man greeted the assembled crowd and began the process of "honoring the deceased's final wishes" and other such pleasantries.

Eris listened with half an ear, already guessing who would inherit the yacht, the business shares, or nothing at all. He hid his amusement as he watched the relatives’ disappointed reactions. One of his aunts cursed loudly upon learning her share was a mere thousand dollars and one-fifteenth of a vineyard. One-fifteenth, for heaven’s sake.

It was clear these people didn’t anticipate how well Beron had known them. Eris had always observed his father’s uncanny ability to discern motives, and even in death, the old man hadn’t stopped being a bastard. Despite their sycophantic flattery, most of the relatives received little to nothing.

What surprised Eris most was the estate in their hometown being left to Aurora. He glanced at her, noting her tension as she leaned against Helion’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her waist while he murmured something in her ear. Eris had a feeling the estate wasn’t the gift his mother had hoped for.

Then came the turn for his brothers and himself. Denver received nothing—which was impressive, considering even distant cousins got something. Rock bottom, apparently. Denver merely laughed, earning scornful looks from the other attendees, who maintained the charade of deep respect for Beron and disapproved of such levity.

Tristan received an entire branch of some business and a significant sum of money. That was unexpected, but Eris suspected it was another of Beron’s tactics to stir chaos by giving generously to the "undeserving." The bigger the scandal, the longer people would talk about him—an egotistical but effective strategy.

Adrian received less than Denver—a hundred thousand dollars and a run-down apartment in an unknown location. Liam inherited a large sum of money, a yacht, and half of the vineyard, which was divided into fifteenths among the other relatives.

Lucien didn’t even pretend to listen. He and Azriel stood together, poorly concealing their amusement at the unfolding drama, much like Eris. Predictably, Beron hadn’t left anything to the "child of infidelity."

Finally, it was Eris’s turn. Beron had left him everything else—essentially, the lion’s share. Eris felt nothing about this, having already anticipated such an outcome.

Afterward, he managed to usher the relatives out of the apartment, though it took some effort. His brothers were gathered in the kitchen, laughing and cracking open a bottle of rum. Aurora and Helion had announced plans for a date, and Eris had smiled knowingly, aware that Helion had consulted him extensively about the best spots in the city for the occasion.

Azriel waited in the hallway, holding their jackets. "Are you sure you don’t want to stay?" he asked, nodding toward the kitchen, where laughter still rang out.

Eris shook his head. "Knowing those irresponsible idiots, they’ll be here for hours. They’ll drag me along tomorrow anyway, but tonight," he leaned his forehead against Azriel’s neck, "tonight I’d rather go to your rat-infested apartment."

Azriel rolled his eyes and flicked Eris’s forehead, earning a laugh as Eris grabbed his coat and slung it over his shoulders. He didn’t bother saying goodbye to his brothers, knowing they were too preoccupied grilling Lucien about when he’d propose to Elain, as they always teased whenever they saw her.

During the drive home, Eris sighed. "I can’t imagine how you put up with all this," he muttered. "And I can’t imagine how I would’ve survived it without you."

"Oh, getting sentimental, are we?" Azriel teased with a grin.

Eris shot him a mock glare. "I’m expressing gratitude, you unempathetic idiot."

"Yeah, I can see how grateful you are."

At a red light, Azriel turned and kissed him—slowly, tenderly, and thoroughly—until a car behind them honked, prompting them to notice the light had turned green.

Well, let them honk.

At home, Eris silently accepted the clothes handed to him, then lay down beside Azriel, closing his eyes and feeling something within him finally let go. The iron grip that had held him for so long loosened, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he could breathe freely again.

tag list: @sizzlingstarlightsky @isnotwhatyourethinking @molcat07 @chairofchaos @lilah-asteria @acourtofbatboydreams

#eris vanserra #acotar #azris #azriel shadowsinger #azris fanfiction #azris supremacy #azriel #modernau

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ericmicael · 2 years ago

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Summing up the whole case of censorship that Ichinose (Suletta's voice actress) suffered by "Gundam Ace" and by the official profile of "Gundam Witch From Mercury".

It is quite common to have dialogues between the voice actors of the anime, the main ones being: Lynn who plays Miorine, and Ichinose who plays Suletta. And it's not uncommon for shipper moments to happen with them, they've always been very supportive of the SuleMio couple, especially Lynn.

Since the anime ended, it is common to find Lynn and Ichinose talking about the SuleMio marriage, and in one of the interviews they even mentioned a term that is an allegory for babies, insinuating that the couple may have plans for the future.

"Gundam Ace" is a magazine dedicated to the franchise, and as "Gundam Witch From Mercury" is the most recent anime, it is obvious that several of the issues focus on this anime. And in the most recent edition that even has a print of SuleMio embracing wearing wedding rings on the cover, they included one of those lines from Ichinose: in her speech she comments on Suletta and Miorine's wedding. But in the digital edition they deleted the word marriage.

All this obviously generated a lot of complaints from the anime fandom, especially from the LGBT part of the fandom.

Today we had the official apology from "Gundam Ace" itself and from the official profile of "Gundam Witch From Mercury", but different from what I thought at first (I have no knowledge of Japanese), they didn't apologize for the censorship and said that the newly released digital edition was wrong, and yes it was literally the opposite of that.

The official profiles apologized for the inclusion of the interview claiming that the ending of SuleMio: whether they got married or not is something interpretive, and that it would not be correct to include a speculative phrase treating it as 100% confirmed.

Since the first episode, it has been said that same-sex marriage is common, which even surprises Suletta.

On many occasions, Suletta and Miorine express a desire to marry each other, and on one occasion Suletta explicitly says that she wants to marry Miorine in matching dresses and buy wedding rings together.

And in the final episode Miorine is called sister-in-law by Eri who is Suletta's "sister", and the two women are shown having matching rings and treating each other like family.

But now all this is now interpretive? That if a woman marries another woman, wearing matching rings and being called sister-in-law by the sister of that woman she married isn't enough if they don't see her kissing her wife or having sex with her? Rings aren't enough, words aren't enough and everything is nothing more than an interpretation of the vision of the voice actresses or the public when the couple is not formed by a man and a woman?

A few weeks ago a shoujo author complained about the relationship between Suletta and Miorine, in her view there were not enough actions or words to confirm that there were romantic feelings between the two women, and that in fact there were only romantic feelings between the boys with them. At one point Guel declares his feelings for the second time for Suletta, and she rejects him without hesitation for the second time. Guel uses the term "precious person" to confess to Suletta, and she has this reaction:

But for this shoujo author it doesn't matter that literally a woman admitted to having feelings for another woman using the same term that a boy used to admit to having feelings for her, that doesn't count, that's not normal, that's not romantic, it's just interpretive when It's a woman talking about another woman.

#mobile suit gundam the witch from mercury #gundam witch from mercury #suletta mercury #miorine rembran #sulemio #homophobia #i'm so tired

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casliveblog · 7 months ago

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Custom Toonami Block Week 197 Rundown

The Witch from Mercury: It’s the finale and ho boy is it a humdinger. In the aftermath of Starkiller Base firing at the Death Star the Aerial’s nearly destroyed and Suletta basically passes out in the cockpit of her suit from Gundam Soul-Sucking Sickness. Miorine’s group is captured by Prospera’s forces even though they literally have their boss at gunpoint and told to give them back Aerial so they can re-activate the plant (I mean it was at full power when the sun laser hit it and Eri barely survived so idk what you think another try is gonna do) Miorine just says “Oh don’t worry, Suletta’s a shonen-style protagonist, she’ll come to protect her family damn the costs any minute now” which is kind of a marvelous bit of character knowledge on her part. Prospera wants Suletta to plug Eri back up and Suletta actually disobeys her mother for the first time, not wanting two superweapons to duke it out and end up losing her whole family, even if Prospera admits she’ll lose control of her legs soon and was planning to die here anyway. Miorine makes one last big speech since that’s kind of her thing and announces that she’s dissolving the group and going with Shaddiq’s idea to give everything to Earth and let the individual companies basically run themselves, meaning Quiet Zero no longer has a shadowy pseudo-government behind it and Shaddiq takes the wrap for all the terrorism. Too bad the dickwad with the punchable face on Starkiller Base is like “cool story, gonna blow it up anyway”. Suletta then connects HERSELF to Quiet Zero and with the help of Ghost!Fake!Ceres #1 manages to dive deep enough into Gundam code to find the NewType Wave ghost control sphere which not only lets her shoot Quiet Zero’s control powers out to Starkiller Base, she also manages to bring everyone that’s died around so all the mournful characters can look wistfully at them and come to some form of acceptance. I’m not sure how this makes any logical sense since Ghost!Ceres says he’s only there as a remnant of being made there like Eri and everybody else just kinda shows up but given 1. The intention of Quiet Zero was to make a physical space for someone that’s half dead already and 2. It’s really just kinda cool and thematically resonant, I’ll allow it. Prospera gets to make up with Eri and apologize to Suletta and Suletta gets to struggle with the fact that she peaked in high school and was a deity for five minutes so what the fuck can she do now. Still we get an epilogue where everyone’s doing good, Eri’s in Miorine’s Siri device, Guel’s running his company while his brother and Petra have generic ending farm land with her testing medical prosthetics for her injuries, Secilia somehow got even MORE hot as a sexy businesswoman, Nika went to fucking jail but it’s okay since she’s back in school and got a good job. Chuchu became a space dockworker, Shaddiq’s still in fucking jail and Miorine is doing her best to mediate the still fresh tensions with Earth while Suletta follows her dream of both being married to Miorine and building a school, so basically the best ending, literally no one fucking died, like all the death flags in the world for some of these characters and this time just this once everybody lives.

Ranma ½: Ranma’s currently having existential crisis about a guy having a crush on him, meanwhile Kuno’s determined to pull a full Inuyasha and string along two girls at once, buying pics of both of them from Nabiki. No one just comes out and tells him the girl is Ranma and they keep stringing him along with metaphors and stuff so he keeps getting the wrong idea or just has a mental block where he refuses to accept it. Ranma ends up literally walking all over Kuno and beating him though getting some injuries in the process, and even more damage when Akane finds him with the pics and claims he’s hotter than her anyway (I mean to be fair the pics of Akane are just cute candid shots and Ranma’s are legit her with her tits out so yeah). They take him to Dr. Tofu (still can’t fucking believe that’s his name) and I like how he can seemingly tell which wounds Akane inflicts like an artist admiring a work of art except the art is someone’s broken body. He also apparently ships Ranma and Akane and orchestrates her carrying him home on their way back which is kinda nice since a lot of the gags in this show kinda work on Rule of Funny and end up being random for the sake of it but this one was a planned romantic moment. The next day the boys all claim they won’t fight Akane anymore since Kuno got his has beat so what chance do they have, but like Akane beat all their asses EVERY DAY and that meant nothing, guess she never beat Kuno until now so it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Shenanigans ensue and Akane ends up hurting Ranma again and she reveals that she doesn’t want anyone to know about her crush on the doctor because he has a crush on her sister Kasumi and has a gag of acting extra stupid whenever he’s around her, I mean he’s also like twice Akane’s age so that’s probably for the best but that always stings all the same. Still with Akane frustrated, Ranma does his best to cheer her up and it works to an extent but given their dynamic it doesn’t last long. Bro literally tells the doctor he doesn’t go out of his way to pick fights with her and then every word he says to her is just a random unprompted insult, like you can’t really be too mad about half the jokes being about him getting beat up when he just comes out the gate with constant insults about her appearance for literally no reason.

Castlevania: It’s not quite the finale yet but this episode does mirror the original attack on Dracula in Season 2 and that’s pretty neat. Trevor and Sypha join Alucard in defending the castle and they don’t have time to explain how they got there so they’re just kinda like ‘hey bro, sup?’ and proceed to fight all the mooks in the world and I think Alucard killed Kratos? Anyway Varney reveals that he’s Death and forces Saint Germain to continue the ritual anyway, basically changing nothing. Still I had this spoiled for me about 2-3 weeks ago by an Overly Sarcastic Productions video and yet it is kinda obvious when you think about it, Death is one of the biggest characters in the franchise, they mentioned him a bunch early on and otherwise it’s just Trevor, Alucard and Sypha in a room doing the Jojo kicking meme on a cockney vampire and that’s not much of a series finale, if anything knowing it was coming made it slightly MORE effective since it didn’t feel like it was coming out of nowhere, one of the few times spoilers didn’t hurt. Anyway the group fights the Priests of Death and it’s a really cool fight mirroring the Court of Dracula fight in season 2 and showing how they cover for each other’s weaknesses and shit. They do the ritual and Alucard has to watch both of his parents’ screaming souls be wedged into a naked intersex meat puppet because he didn’t quite need enough therapy yet. They beat said meat puppet when Saint Germain does… something… that weakens the spell (like he didn’t bring the barrier down or anything he just kinda moved the portal to catch their souls again?) and Trevor throws the wet shuriken of death into the human transmutation before it can become the eighth deadly sin. Death is pissed and Trevor knows it’s the end of the series so he faces off against him on his own for some reason (like both Sypha and Alucard can fly, like granted Alucard’s going through some shit right now but the fight lasts long enough they should definitely be able to get over there) but he has a cool speech about how things that can only kill have no place left in this world and does some cool Attack on Titan shit to ram the Dagger Ex Machina into Death with a huge explosion. Like I’m sure there’s more lore for that dagger and shit in broader Castlevania context but for me it just looks like the “this is the only weapon that can kill him’ shit, still the fight’s so cool I can hardly complain.

Dandadan: It’s time for the introduction of resident GILF Seiko, because every major series needs a big titty badass to throw shit around. She has an intro that kinda reminds me of the beginning of Beetlejuice 2 where she has a low-budget psychic show that’s not highly regarded despite her predictions all being real. She comes home and traps Granny!Okarun in an anti-Sea Bear circle to beat the shit out of the evil spirit within, ready to kill the kid thinking he’s just another tough-looking scumbag Momo’s dating. But for whatever reason she decides not to and just seals him into the shrine, still taking the opportunity to fuck with Momo about it a little bit. She then enforces a training arc on the two of them to get strong enough to chase Granny out of town and banish her on their own which conveniently she can’t help with because she too can’t function out of town (I mean I don’t get why she can’t help along the way but okay) still the timetable is moved up when an ill-fated bathroom visit has Granny reveal she can transfer death curses to whoever she looks at through Okarun’s eyes (also side tangent but how does Okarun pee without his dick? Like they establish the bathroom visit is so he can poop but I imagine peeing may be an issue, does his small intestine just stop absorbing the moisture and he has constant diarehhea or is it magic and his pee just goes to his dick spiritually and he pees without peeing? I’m probably thinking about this too much but it is a central conceit of the show to be fair) but yeah now they don’t have time to get past their base powerset and have to do the confrontation right now at the place where she’s her strongest back at the tunnel where she fused with the tunnel spirit that was already there. Seiko gives Momo an emotional goodbye and some spiritual armor to help them which Momo quickly discards, still they get on the train and I get Momo’s logic of saving stamina by not walking and Okarun’s armor does block his eyes but it seems like a bad idea to have him walk into a crowded place when we’ve established Granny can curse people by looking at them with his eyes, idk maybe I’m worried over nothing but they seem to be going into this half-cocked and without half of their safeguards.

Gleipnir: With their baptismal conflict done, the duo decide to get some practice in with what has to be the darkest version of Ratatouille, turns out Shuichi can still move while Claire’s piloting him but Claire kinda has a movement override like that scene of Maria inside Al in FMA. They go to look for Claire’s sister since it’s their only lead and try to bloodhound track her down with her old uniform and despite Claire’s hopes the scent reveals she’s killed a LOT of people. This isn’t a particularly subtle show but I do kinda like the way they show Claire’s opinion of her sister changing her whole personality, like calling her sister a slut for no reason and showing that before her family was murdered she dressed more conservatively and had her hair braided shows Claire’s probably projecting a weird amount of purity bullshit and processing her damaged self-image and shattered view of her sister with outward promiscuity-signaling while taking pride in being a virgin, it’s a lot of fucked up shit and I don’t love the implications of some of it but it’s an interesting character dynamic for a show that’s 90% panty shots. The two hang out and have a date dynamic going with looking for Claire’s sister and eventually stumble right across her only to find out she has FMA Pride powers and can turn into shadow ash and shit but because she’s yandere for Shuichi she doesn’t even think twice about them shooting her (also a gun goes off in the middle of fucking Japan who the hell’s not noticing these gunshots in one of the most gun-regulated first world countries?). But yeah Claire’s main character syndrome kicks in and she thinks her sister can sense her inside Shuichi but really she’s just apologizing to Shuichi for turning him into a furry and fucking rips his mascot head off once she finds out another girl has been pegging him with her whole body. He’ll probably be fine since this is basically FNAF and he’s a springlock suit but it is a dramatic way to end an episode.

Revolutionary Girl Utena: Utena’s kind of in a comatose state after losing to Touga and having Anthy move out. She takes Touga’s advice of ‘be a normal girl’ to the extreme and starts wearing the girl uniform and basically moping around like Smooth Normal Spongebob. Wakaba is a good friend and does everything she can to snap her out of it, even picking a fight with Touga and accidentally splashing Anhty. Meanwhile Touga’s gloating to the rest of the student council about having reached the endgame and the other two are sore losers for him getting there because of a Naraku-style plot so they’re just kinda grumpy. Even Anthy despite reverting to her blank slate personality still has lingering yearning for her time with Utena. After a lot of pushing, Wakaba finally tells Utena that normal isn’t normal for her and being weird is what makes Utena normal and if she’s not weird then she’s not normal and then gets through to Utena about how much of her true self she’s lost in her despair. She immediately goes to challenge Touga not just for Anthy but to reclaim the lost courage and boldness she gave up for the sake of normalcy and compliance, Juri even gives her a new sword to fight with so that’s pretty cool. Touga reveals he’s read the sacred texts and has Anthy do suggestive things to his waist-height sword to make the sword basically a lightsaber so he cuts right through Utena’s new sword and is about to win when Anthy’s lingering concern and wishes for Utena’s safety causes the power to leave him and the final clash results in Utena’s victory even with like one eighth of a blade left, how do these guys keep letting her get that close in a fencing match. Anyway Anthy’s back with Utena and Utena tells her to cut out the ceremonial crap and let them just go and hang out.

#ooc #Toonami #Custom Toonami Block #The Witch from Mercury #Ranma 1/2 #Castlevania #Dandadan #Gleipnir #Revolutionary Girl Utena

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separatist-apologist · 3 years ago

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I miss you too much to be mad anymore, Elain and Lucien or Eris and Arina please!

I Miss You Too Much To Be Mad Anymore- Elain x Lucien (646 words)

It was a stupid fight. Lucien could hardly remember who had started it or even why. She’d just begun to talk to him, to spend time with him and now they’d spent days apart, both marinating in their anger. Over what? A disagreement that hardly seemed worth the distance. At this point, Lucien cared more about being the first to break. He always went to her, hat in hand, and begged for an ounce of her affection.

Six days without her was torture. How had he gone years, centuries even? He was barely going minute to minute, pacing the carpet of his apartment until he’d worn the threads to nothing. “Fuck it,” he decided. He wasn’t too proud to beg, not anymore. He walked to the door, yanking it open only to find Elain on the other side, eyes wide, fist raised to knock.

“Elain,” he breathed. The pair stared at the other, clearly realizing if they’d only held out for another few moments, they wouldn’t have had to be the one who broke. “Come in,” he finally asked. There was no use keeping her out in the autumn chill when she’d come all this way.

Elain stepped into his apartment for the first time ever, looking around with obvious interest. He wondered if she liked what she saw. He hoped she did.

“So…this is where you live?” she asked with just a touch of defiance. Lucien bit back a sigh of exasperation. Where was her apology now?

“For now,” he retorted, making it clear he might leave at any time. Far from being mollified, Elain’s eyes narrowed to slits. Her eyes swept the room again, haughty with disdain.

“Maybe you should, if this was the best you could do after four years.”

Lucien stared for a moment, letting her feel the heat of his gaze against her skin.

“And you think you could do better?” he asked, taking a step towards her. Elain skittered backwards, standing on the same dark rug he’d been pacing earlier.

“I know I could,” she hissed. All the air deflated from Lucien’s sails when he recognized what he was doing. They were prolonging this fight, neither wanting to admit they did anything wrong. Lucien couldn’t even remember what they were fighting for—was it worth it? Another week of silence, of missing her? Lucien walked to her, catching her hands before she could pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes searching her. “I’m miss you so damn much I can’t even remember what I was mad for.”

Elain exhaled a breath. “Me too, Lucien. I’ve been going out of my mind…I came to apologize too.”

Now that she said it, Lucien was feeling generous. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t have to get so angry. You didn’t know you were squashing begonias.”

Ah. Now that she said it, Lucien distinctly remembered trampling straight through her garden, taking a short cut so he could come talk to her.

“I’ll be more mindful of your plants in the future. I only wanted to see you,” he added, hoping his ardor was enough to soften whatever lingering irritation she felt. Elain smiled.

“So…this is your apartment? You live here alone?”

Lucien’s whole body lit up at her words. “Very alone,” he agreed. “Shall I give you a tour?”

“What could be left besides a bathroom and a bedroom?” she retorted, not catching his meaning.

“That's the best part,” he insisted. “Come, let me show you how nice of a room it is.”

“Lucien,” Elain protested softly, as if there was any deterring him. Besides, he reasoned. She trotted right after him, so close she was practically stepping on his heels.

And when Lucien opened the bedroom door to let her in? Elain was the one who slammed it closed.

#elucien #elucien prompt #elucien ficlet #elain x lucien #good morning i am back on my bullshit #with SO MANY new prompts #I am only one person anons

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whaleofatjme1920 · 4 years ago

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Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires

[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]

[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]

When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.

You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you’ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.

Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.

“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.

She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”

“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”

Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”

“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.

She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.

“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”

“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.

Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.

He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”

You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”

“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”

You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.

Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”

You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”

Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.

You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.

“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”

You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.

For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.

You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.

Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.

You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.

Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.

“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.

Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.

You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.

When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.

You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.

Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.

Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.

In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.

Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.

You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.

“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”

You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.

“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.

You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.

You never saw your first year of high school.

When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.

In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.

Proxies always return to him.

Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.

But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.

Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.

“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”

The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.

Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”

He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’

“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.

The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’

Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.

The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.

Nothing more.

When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.

“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”

“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.

“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”

Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”

“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.

Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”

“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.

“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.

You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.

You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.

Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.

Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.

The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.

You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.

“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”

The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.

You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.

He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ‘For you, my dear.’

You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.

His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.

You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.

“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.

When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.

It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.

“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.

He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’

You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.

He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”

You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.

The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.

Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.

“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”

“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”

“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.

“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.

“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.

“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”

Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.

Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.

You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.

Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.

Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.

That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.

You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.

Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.

You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.

“Come with me then,” he says.

You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.

Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.

There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.

You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”

The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.

The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.

“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.

You perk up slightly.

“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.

“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”

You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.

There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.

Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”

“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”

Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.

You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.

“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.

You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.

“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”

“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.

The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.

“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”

“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.

The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.

‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.

‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.

Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.

When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the

The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.

“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.

You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.

“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby’s driving.”

“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.

Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.

You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.

He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.

Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.

He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.

“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.

You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.

Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.

Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.

“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”

You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.

When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”

You look at him with stars in your eyes.

Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.

Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.

Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.

Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.

Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.

Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.

Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.

And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.

“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”

You get the sense that your teammates agree.

“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”

You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.

Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.

You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.

There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.

Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.

“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.

Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.

“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.

“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.

You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.

A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.

You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.

“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.

You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”

Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”

The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.

Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”

Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.

“Hi, I’m EJ.”

“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.

You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.

“Eyeless Jack.”

“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.

“What? You said I could be real.”

“No lead up? You just?”

“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.

You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.

“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.

“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.

“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.

“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.

Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.

You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.

“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.

“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.

“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”

“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.

“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.

“Will we see these two again?”

“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.

You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.

“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.

A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.

“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.

“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.

The two laugh.

Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.

He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.

Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.

Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.

Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.

The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.

You are thankful you are exempt.

Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.

“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.

You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.

You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.

You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.

The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.

You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.

But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.

He knew.

Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.

Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.

You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.

The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.

“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. “Finish this for me.”

“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.

“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t know how?”

“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.

He’s not getting out of this one alive.

You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.

Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”

Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.

The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.

“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.

“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.

You pull.

It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.

The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.

First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.

Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.

He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.

Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.

“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.

“I said that I’m fine-”

“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.

You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.

“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.

You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.

You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”

You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.

You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.

Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.

The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.

“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”

You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.

“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”

Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”

Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.

Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.

It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.

“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”

When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.

Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.

Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.

Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.

“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.

“I’m… not..!”

“TELL ME-”

“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.

You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.

“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.

“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.

Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”

You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.

“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.

“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.

The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.

It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.

Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.

Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.

You shake your head and refuse to say anything.

The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.

And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.

‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.

‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’

‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’

Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?

He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.

The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.

“We need to talk,” Tim says.

“About?”

“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.

You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”

“Reader-”

“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.

The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.

Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.

Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.

According to Toby, he never even fought for you.

You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.

You shake your head. “No.”

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.

Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.

“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.

“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.

You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.

He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.

Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.

You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.

When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.

“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.

Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.

Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.

You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.

There’s four of them, your new family.

A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.

They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.

It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.

“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.

“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”

“Too early,” you cut him off.

“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”

You huff.

Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.

“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo’s son?”

“Yeah.”

She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”

Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.

Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.

“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”

You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.

“Take that as a yes.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.

“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”

You answer him with harder punches.

Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.

Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.

“I’ll be fine-”

‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’

You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”

Their face lights up.

The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.

“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”

Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”

You take that thought in and sigh.

Time to face him again.

You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.

Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.

They’re not always at each other’s throats.

That leaves you with Tim.

You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.

It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.

It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.

“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.

“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.

Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.

Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.

Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”

You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”

“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.

Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”

For some reason, it makes you giggle.

He lights up at the sound of your laugh.

When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.

Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.

As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”

You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”

“I know.”

“Tim-”

“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”

“Please no-”

“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”

“No-”

“I could ask for you back-”

“That’s enough.”

Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.

But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.

They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.

But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.

And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

You have a job to do, and some things?

Well, they’re better left unsaid.

#masky x reader #masky #marble hornets #tim wright #mh #creepypasta #creepypasta masky #angst #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #hoodie #brian thomas #slender man #the operator #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets x reader

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allmightluver · 4 years ago

Note

So, what is your take on the EM relationship? Who was the one to fall first and confess? Please support your speculations/opinions with canonical evident, if you'd like 😏 (BECAUSE YOU'RE SO DAMN GOOD AT IT ❤️) Thank you for your time 🙏

Oh goodness

You really want me to go all out huh Kunshi 😏

Well, I’ll try to summarize this as best I can ***(This may have some spoilers so be warned)**

The relationship between All Might and Eraserhead has been quite the journey. You can say, frenemies to “hey you’re not so bad”. They’ve known of each other for years, before the present timeline. Here in Vigilante’s, Eraserhead tells Tsukauchi that the situation they’re in is so dire, they need the Number 1. Aizawa acknowledges how powerful All Might is, despite disapproving of how handles media and fame.

But they didn’t really know each other until All Might started at UA.

Aizawa believed Yagi to be reckless, irresponsible, and foolish in taking a job he has no training for. Not to mention the obvious favoritism. Yagi believed Aizawa to be too harsh and cold hearted on the children. Though as the two got to know each other, and went through traumatic events together (USJ and Kamino), they started to warm up more to each other, actually taking the time to get to know one another.

All Might rushes to an injured Aizawa’s side, and the sight of how broken, bloodied and damaged his co-worker is visibly upsets him. The way Toshinori’s voice softens as he apologizes to Aizawa, unclear if it’s out loud or in his mind. Toshinori probably feels terrible whenever anyone’s been injured, but he seems particularly held up over Aizawa, most likely because he himself couldn’t be there when it happened. He was of being a hero all morning, and wasted all his time in his muscle form, so he wasn’t there with them like he should have been. Which meant Aizawa and (Thirteen) had to fight to protect the students, even if they were clearly unmatched. They were both badly injured in the process, all because Toshinori wasn’t there.

Then after the fight, Toshinori cuts his friend, Tsukauchi, off and asks how Aizawa, wait, Eraserhead, is doing. Oh and Thirteen too. He was relieved to find he they were alright.

When Kamino hit we see how intently Aizawa watches the news, watches All Might, watches Toshinori. He was clearly concerned, and in seeing AFO summon his many quirks in order to eliminate All Might once and for all, Aizawa’s concern only grows. And for good reason.

As an after effect, the students needed to move into dorms. Aizawa and Toshinori are paired together to speak to 1A’s students. It’s in the car that Aizawa, awkwardly, offers to buy Toshinori a drink. To which Toshinori politely declines, as he can’t drink. (*face palm*)

However, after dealing with Bakugo’s...different family, Toshinori nudges Aizawa with an elbow his injured arm no less, and whispers that he now owes Aizawa a drink.

Dunno about you, but I’d have to be pretty comfortable with someone before I’m close enough to nudge them and whisper secrets. And Toshinori is always seeking to know Aizawa better, be closer, impress him.

They even go out on a date to get a drink together. Toshinori’s inner dialogue is the most interesting, from “I’m going to be even better friends with Aizawa-kun...!” to “All Might, you just gotta push past the walls of Aizawa-kun’s heart!” ...uh huh. To which Mic and Midnight totally crash their “Secret Dinner Outing” and invite themselves to stay, much to Toshinori’s (”Or on second thought...probably not then.”) and Aizawa’s despair (”Go home!” x3). Get outta here, you’re ruining our date! And after Toshinori takes his leave, Aizawa chases him down outside to say....? “Thank you very much. I’m drunk right now so I probably wouldn’t say this if I wasn’t. But because you fought at Kamino and took down AFO for us, I’ll do my part and look after the students as much as I can. That’s why I want to thank you for everything.” To which after a silence, Toshinori responds with, “Aizawa-kun, let’s watch over the students from here on out together.” ...to which Aizawa mentions he won’t remember any of this and to never bring it up ever again. (*repeat face palm*)

This only proves they’re becoming much, much, closer. They’ve gone beyond plus ultra frenemies and onto true friends. They take each other’s words and thoughts into account in a serious manner, like how Yagi managed to convince Aizawa to let him go to Bakugo and Midoriya when they snuck out, as well as going easy on punishment for them.

Aizawa’s also shown growing concern for Toshinori after his retirement. Firstly from seeing Toshinori out and about so soon after Kamino while he was still recovering from his injuries. And on the occasion a falling rock nearly connects to Toshinori’s head, you can see how quickly Aizawa reacts. The way you can almost see a flashback of his childhood friend’s unfortunate death running through his head as he tries to save Toshinori from the same fate. Once Midoriya saves Toshinori, Aizawa still reaches out to him, like he’s worried the man may get hurt, break, as he tells him that it’s not safe in this environment, and that Toshinori should leave, go where it’s safe.

When Aizawa couldn’t attend Bakugo and Todoroki’s extra classes, he asks Toshinori to go in his place, and even makes Present Mic go along as a body guard. He’s clearly concerned for the former hero’s safety and well-being. Toshinori now often fills in for Aizawa if he can’t make it to his own class.

When Midoriya’s new quirk is discovered, Aizawa takes Toshinori’s anxiety about the situation seriously, and they immediately go to put a stop to the training battle.

But once Midoriya’s quirk settles down, Aizawa decides to let this play out, and calms Toshinori, saying he’ll put a stop to it if the situation happens again.

He later describes Toshinori as a genius, naturally talented, when explaining to Shinsou how he doesn’t expect the kid to be on the same level with the others in the hero course right off the bat. Aizawa has extreme respect for Toshinori.

The biggest moment between the two is late on a snowy night, when Toshinori sits outside in the cold, alone, contemplating...well, his life honestly. Aizawa find’s him, “there you are,” apparently looking for the taller man. Toshinori at first automatically deflects any questions about himself, and asks about the children. He then offers to help Aizawa with training Eri, in which the underground hero gladly accepts (something that Aizawa would not have done in the past, as he hated even speaking to the older man before). But Aizawa can see through the façade, and asks what’s wrong. Aizawa is one of, if not the only, person Toshinori confides in so deeply. Horkioshi confirmed recently that of everyone (adults, I assume), pro heroes included, Toshinori is the closest to Aizawa. Toshinori decides he can trust Aizawa with his mental weights. He’s decided to live, but feels useless staying alive, powerless, unable to help anyone, or at least how the children need him to.

Aizawa’s initially unnerved at the fact that Toshinori decided to live, as if the contemplation of otherwise was there. But he listens quietly, intently, to what Toshinori says. Finally, he tries to reason with the older man that being a workaholic, and never having time to rest, isn’t good either, points out that after holding up the country for decades, suddenly not having it has left an addiction. Toshinori doesn’t know what to do if he’s not running himself ragged. But also tells him that he is helping the students--by being alive, and by being here for them. There are a lot of people (Aizawa included?) that gain strength, just by Toshinori being there, alive. And he asks him to please keep on living and acting like his normal self. Toshinori’s overcome with emotion at his words.

For a relationship between the two, I’m sure they both would have had feelings for quite some time before ever admitting to it. Knowing their personalities, Aizawa would feel his feelings were illogical and deceptive. Toshinori is just a tad older than him, has met probably thousands more people than Aizawa ever will, and he was the number one hero. Falling for a guy like that just seemed too predictable and annoying. But Aizawa soon learns the differences between All Might and Toshinori, and while the latter still rubs him the wrong way at times, the tall, willowy man has managed to capture his heart. He feels compelled to care for the other, make sure he’s taking proper care of himself. And yet he tells himself it’s too invasive of the other man’s privacy; none of his business. When Mic and Midnight drag him to the bar and question him why his mood was off, he’d give no answer save for a shrug, and down another beer.

Toshinori would have feelings rather early, but most likely not realize they were more than just finally getting the grouchy Aizawa-kun to tolerate him. As weeks go by, he would catch his heart racing at Aizawa’s presence, blushing when the scruffy man would make tea for him after a coughing fit, and way too elated when Aizawa accepted the invitation for a drink together, alone. One night it would hit him just exactly how he feels for the younger man, and his heart would clench. Surely Aizawa couldn’t feel the same way, especially for a man as old, sickly, and awkward as himself. Even if it were possible, his own death is due to come within the next year, and he couldn’t do that to Aizawa-kun. He’d spend several nights fighting and eventually failing to quietly let his tears fall into the pillow below him as he tries to sleep, alone.

The two would cautiously work together, stepping around their own feelings to keep things normal between them. All the while Aizawa’s brain would fight against his heart, and Toshinori’s chest would tighten until a bloody cough was produced.

Finally, finally, after Mic and Midnight pry it out of Aizawa like a game of Operation, they force him to ask Toshinori out. It takes a week, but Aizawa finally finds the right moment to ask the former hero out for a drink and bar food. Glamorous as always, especially for a first date. But Toshinori gladly accepts, and spends the rest of the day convincing himself it’s just a friendly supper, between friends, not a date.

That night the two have a lovely evening of greasy bar food (which Toshinori politely only orders a small plate of fries, as there’s nothing blander on the menu) and beer (Toshinori also drinks a plain water). Aizawa apologizes for not taking Toshinori’s diet into account when picking where they met, and says he’ll let Toshinori pick the restaurant next time. Toshinori freezes at his wording. Aizawa’s quick to try and resolve, but Toshinori stops him. Asks him what exactly this is. A friendly dinner? Or something more? Aizawa buries into his scarf, and answers with a question in return; what do you want it to be? It’s then Toshinori sets his glass down, takes a moment to breathe, before spilling that he’d hoped it was a date. He’s bright red as he explains how he believes he’s developed...feelings over the months working together. That he wanted to go out again, but that he hadn’t wanted to force his feelings on Aizawa. Who would want someone like him?

These two have so much chemistry. They’ve been through so much together already: disagreements, near deaths, critical injuries, awkward moments of a budding friendship, talking each other off the ledge. In all the ships of the series, EraserMight has one of the most obvious connections and chemistries.

#lover talks #ask me #head canons #EraserMight #sorry this took me so long :(#Thanks for putting up with me <3 #all might #toshinori Yagi #Eraserhead #Aizawa shouta #relationships #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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gwynrielendgame · 4 years ago

Text

Gwynriel mating bond

I have written another version of gwynriel’s mating bond snapping into place but I like this one better

They were well and truly fucked.

It was the only thought that coursed through Azriel's mind. They had been outnumbered by Hybern certainly. Even then, the courts were able to rally together and defeat the king. Unfortunately, it was nothing compared to what they were facing now. They had the geographic advantage this time though. The night court inner circle stood at the highest point as the war raged on below. Cassian and him were regrouping while also arguing over which strategy would work best. Of course, Cassian won that argument. He was the general of the night court armies after all. Amren, who was no longer of much use in a fight, stood watching over the battle. Azriel could have sworn her eyes tracked the summer court armies. Feyre and Rhysand were currently arguing over the best course of action while Mor, unhelpfully added her opinion every other moment. It was clear to Azriel that his high lord and lady also realized they were fucked. Feyre thought they should draw back and regroup, but Rhysand felt that would give the other courts enough time to back out completely once they realized this was an un-winnable fight. Azriel knew he should give his opinion, but he was much more focused on surveying the carnage below them. Koschei and his army had managed to wipe out most of the spring courts forces- unsurprising considering they were still suffering from Feyre's plans even all these years later, the Illyrian aerial forces have taken a large hit, and the winter forces were not much help in this summer heat. It was not something Rhysand or the high lord of the winter court had calculated for, but as it turns out, training all your life in the brutal cold made it much more challenging to fight in the summer heat. All things considered they still might have had a chance if the autumn court had not sided with Koschei and the dark-bringers had not denied Rhysand's request for them to fight this war. According to Eris, there was only so much convincing he could do with his father before all their best laid plans would be tossed away like trash.

"We are being massacred out there, Rhysand! If we do not withdrawal, we will die!" Feyre's frantic voice pulled Azriel from his trance.

"We will die if we withdrawal!" He shouted back. "Kallias will retreat to his lands to save his people and leave us even further outnumbered."

"I am with Feyre on this one." Cassian finally piped up. His decision may have to do with the fact that a deep cut from top of his thigh to knee was not healing as fast as it should be. He was struggling to walk which would not be an issue if he could fly but Azriel had seen a faebane arrow cut through one of his wings earlier in the fight.

Mor was not better off and if he was being honest with himself, his own siphons were starting to drain.

"What the hell do they think they are doing?" Amren squeaked. The unusual tone has the entire group staring at the second in command with raised eyebrows. Azriel even managed a chuckle at that.

The group finally looked down to where Amren was pointing, only for Azriel to feel as though his heart had stopped. Before he could consider anything else, Azriel launched himself at Cassian. He was only able to hold himself back by sheer will alone. Rhysand eventually joined in to help hold Cassian back.

"Let go of me." He snarled. "She is going to get herself killed down there."

Azriel kept his hold steady but let his eyes wander back to the battle field. A weight had settled on his chest and he thought he might suffocate. He could only imagine how Cas was feeling. He watched as the Valkyries rode in on horses at full speed. He had to give credit where it's due, the horses were a smart move. It gave them the height and speed advantage. It appeared a group of almost 200 priestesses turned valkyrie were being led by Nesta with Emerie and Gwyn flanking her. It was quite a majestic scene. One that he knew his high lady would try and recreate in a painting. The collision with Koschei's army on the ground was intense. Azriel wanted to watch to make sure his best friend, Gwyn, would remain unharmed, but Cassian was putting up too much of a fight. Finally, Mor did the only thing that would keep Cassian safe. She knocked him out with the butt of her sword. His body went limp immediately. Azriel grunted as he set his friend down. Cassian was much heavier than Azriel would like to admit.

Watching the three females fight was always awe inspiring. They worked so well together, it was as if they were daemati and could tell each other what moves they were planning on using. Azriel's eyes narrowed in on Gwyn as her dagger found its target. Her face was set in a determined expression that Azriel had spent many training sessions watching. He wanted to go down there to aid the female that had become his best friend in the last few years, but he was afraid that he might mess up whatever system the Valkyries were already working with.

"I am going to kill her." Rhysand groaned when he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in.

"They are supposed to be with Nyx!" Feyre cried. Obviously, leaving the child with Elain alone is the priority that the high lady has latched on to. Azriel rolled his eyes.

"Well now we have to fall back." Rhysand snapped. Azriel understood why he was frustrated. It was unwise for the Valkyries to join without telling Rhysand. It completely changes strategic plans that could have already been in place. Luckily for them, there were no plans.

"I don't know about that Rhys," Mor added. "They are kind of kicking ass down there."

Azriel turned back to check and sure enough, they were kicking ass. Azriel knew they were highly qualified and that they deserved to fight in this battle. It's one thing to know that and another to send your closest friends into the heart of an un-winnable war. Even from this far away, he could feel as Gwyn's stare fell upon him. He looked toward her and suddenly the pressure that had encased his heart as he watched her on that field made sense. It hit him so hard it was like the wind was knocked out of him. He fell to his knees with a groan. Mor was in front of him before he could blink.

"What's wrong?" She sounded panicked but nothing mattered to Azriel in this moment than getting down to Gwyn and carrying her far far away. He realized how Cassian must have felt which had Azriel feeling like an asshole. He would apologize later.

"Mate." Is all he managed before he took off in flight for the red head. He had to dodge several blasts of power from enemies that seemed to appear out of no where. He kept one eye on the females though. Their fighting was graceful and brutal all at once. Nesta beheaded an enemy as Emerie shot a male that was aiming for Gwyn. Gwyn was busy using her shield to protect another Valkyrie from a thrown ax.

It was as though it happened in slow motion. With his birds eye view, he could see what neither Nesta or Emerie could see. He pushed himself faster. He could beat the male that was fastly approaching Gwyn.

"Gwyn!" He started to scream. "Behind you." She could not hear him, of course. He began screaming it over and over again. His feet had barely hit the ground when his mate finally whipped her head around to make eye contact. A mischievous smile graced her face, but Azriel could only focus on the male that was too close.

"Behind you!" He shouted once more. She turned quickly as Azriel began running full speed towards her. She did not even have time to raise her shield before a sword pierced straight through her stomach.

"No!" The strangled cry caught both Nesta and Emerie's attention. Nesta beheaded the traitor as he pulled his sword out. Azriel fell to his knees as he attempted to stop her bleeding. His hands were covered in blood after only a second of covering her stomach. He knew what it meant and it felt as though his heart was being shredded. Nesta knelt on the other side of Gwyn as Emerie protected them. Nesta grabbed for her face.

"You are okay, Gwyn. It's barely a scratch. Azriel is going to fly you to Feyre and she will heal you." Nesta's matter of fact tone began to calm Azriel. They had a plan. Gwyn would be fine.

"Fuck, it hurts." Gwyn managed to splutter out with a laugh. She coughed up blood as she said it. Nesta and Azriel shared a look.

"You are okay." Azriel was unsure of who Nesta was trying to convince by repeating that. He did not have much time to ponder that before the abrasive female turned to him. "You can fly her to Feyre right?"

It was dangerous. He would have trouble fending off attackers while carrying Gwyn. He had to try though. Tonight may end with all of their deaths. Given that there was not a safer option, he had to risk it.

"Hurry up." Emerie seethed as she shot the last of her arrows. She quickly switched to her sword as an onslaught of new enemies rushed towards them. Azriel adjusted Gwyn as he lifted her into his arms. Before he could take off, Nesta placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Nes!" Emerie shouted. Nesta went back to fighting and Azriel shot up into the air. Dodging attacks was much harder than he anticipated. He wished he could winnow but he had drained too much of his power to successfully accomplish that. An arrow skimmed the side of his calf when Gwyn finally spoke up.

"Mates huh? Who would have thought?"

"Shhh. Save your energy."

"I have always had a thing for you, ya know? I figured you would know since you are the spy master and all. Might as well tell you anyways since I am about to die." She rasped out. Her hand was resting on his neck and if he was being honest it made his heart skip a beat. Even if they were in the middle of a war.

"Do not say that." He found himself snapping. "You are not going to die. You are fine."

A small lovely smile from her distracted him for only a second when an arrow sliced through his wing and he felt them falling to the treacherous grounds below. He attempted to land on his feet, but the hole in his wing made it exceedingly difficult. He wrapped himself around her so that he could take the brunt of the fall. Azriel was already trying to reach out to Rhys to bring Feyre to them as a backup plan. They must have been busy because there was no answer. A warrior raced towards them with a sword. Azriel was too injured to fight as easily as he should have been able to. Before he could even rise to his feet, an arrow sliced through the females throat. Azriel looked behind him to see Emerie and Nesta racing towards them. A sigh of relief left his body.

“Gwyn, are you okay?” He had to check after their rough landing.

“Never better.” She choked out. He went back to covering her wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“New plan. You are going to ride back with Nesta and find Feyre to heal you.” He was feeling frantic at this point. Gwyn would only get worse as the faebane worked its magic and he would not be able to live with the fact that he could not save her.

“Hey Azriel,” she had never called him by his full name before- only Shadowsinger or Az. “I love you. You have been my closest friend and I just realized I have never said it to you before. But I want you to know that I do love you.” Her breathing was harsh and her words came out raspy. Azriel had longed for the day to hear those words, but he knew that Gwyn was saying them as a goodbye and he hated that.

“Stop talking. Save your energy.” Another of Koschei’s fighters popped up only to be downed by another of Emerie’s arrows- she must have found more somewhere.

Two more charged towards them. Azriel ripped silver majesty from Gwyn’s holster and simultaneously threw her dagger and truthteller. It sliced through both of their throats. Nesta and Emerie were almost here. He just had to protect her a little longer.

“Az,” she began again.

“Stop distracting me.” He did not want to be harsh.

He promised he would make it up to her with sweet words when they made it out alive. She grabbed his hand roughly searching for his attention. The connection between their hands sent a spark through him. He finally looked at her. Blood covered her mouth and hands, sweat plastered her hair to her forehead, her eyes were looking a little glassy, and her pale skin was even paler than normal. He knew what this meant and could not stop the tears that flowed from his eyes.

“It is okay.” Gwyn whispered as her hand came up to caress his face. “I will find you again in another life.”

“Gwyneth, I lov-“ Azriel was interrupted by an ear shattering scream.

“No!” Nesta was looking behind them.

Azriel’s head whipped back to see a female charging for them faster than he could block in his weakened state. He accepted his fate then. Gwyn and him would find death together. He squeezed her hand tightly and waited. Nothing happened though. He looked behind him again to see the female had been taken out by a winter court soldier. He peered more closely at the soldier- only to realize he was dead. Nesta and Emerie finally reached them. Nesta was wearing the mask. Azriel knew this would end in disaster. Rhysand strictly forbid the use of the dread trove in this war. He knew that Koschei was searching for it and as long as it was locked away then it was safe. Nesta might as well have delivered it to him on his door step.

“Nes, what are you doing? Koschei-“ before he could finish though, Nesta was rushing to Gwyn’s side already cutting him off.

“Koschei won’t come near me as long as I have the one weapon that could kill him.” She pointed to Ataraxia- her made weapon that was sheathed on her back. Nesta grabbed Gwyn by the face, forcing her attention. Emerie stood guard again. It gave Azriel some faith that Nesta had a plan to save Gwyn.

“I am going to fix this, okay? Gwyneth Berdara I will not allow you to die today.” Nesta’s tone was final and absolute. Azriel finally saw the harp in her hand. He watched as Nes placed a kiss to Gwyn’s cheek and then she pulled the last string.

In the next moment, Nesta was forcing Gwyn to drink what appeared to be blood- Feyre’s blood. He knew then that the harsh female must have paused time in order to obtain the blood. What was no time at all for them, must have been forever for Nes. He noticed that the fighting had completely stopped. Whether it was because the undead soldiers were enough to overwhelm Koschei’s forces or because of something Nesta did during the time pause, Azriel would not ask until he knew Gwyn would live. Emerie was on her knees, lifting Gwyn’s head to rest in her lap. Emerie began brushing pieces of hair away while whispering something in her ear. Nesta watched intently while squeezing Gwyn’s hand. Azriel realized he was mirroring Nesta’s movements. He also was squeezing Gwyn’s hand while watching her intently. Her eyes were closed, but the wound on her stomach had finally closed. It felt like eternity before her eyes began to flutter open. A weight lifted off Azriel’s chest- an all-consuming weight. They all waited for Gwyn to speak before celebrating though.

“Hey.” She managed to cough out. Emerie shouted with glee as she peppered kisses all over her face. Nesta threw her body over Gwyn’s in a desperate attempt of a hug. Azriel felt the urge to shove both of them off and gather Gwyn into his lap for the worlds longest hug. He resisted though because he knew how Nesta and Emerie were feeling. It was how he was feeling- grateful for their best friend to be breathing.

“You are in so much trouble. I cannot believe you let yourself get stabbed!” Nesta yelled at her and then proceeded to hug her again. Azriel just squeezed the hand he still had a hold of.

“We are going to force Azriel to train you so much harder because of this just so you know.” Emerie cracked a smile as tears still poured down her face.

“Sorry.” Is all Gwyn could manage. Azriel could no longer hold out. He lightly nudged Nesta off of Gwyn, then he pulled her into him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and tucked her head under his chin.

“I fucking love you Gwyneth Berdara,” she pulled away to look up at him with big shocked teal eyes that were brimming with tears. “But if you ever pull that shit again, I will personally ensure that you train everyday for at least five hours.” She immediately started laughing. It was like music to his ears. His shadows, who had been moving so chaotically since the bond snapped in place that he chose to ignore them, finally calmed down. It was as if her laugh proved that she was going to live. One stray shadow reached out to caress her cheek. She sighed into it.

“Blame yourself,” she started joking which only eased the tension in his body even more. “I was distracted by the mating bond.” She pulled away to give him a genuine smile that tugged at the bond. It was so beautiful it hurt.

“Mating bond?” Emerie screeched. Gwyn laughed again. It was music to his ears.

Gwyn grabbed him by the face and pulled his lips to hers. He could hear Nesta and Emerie squealing- so in contrast to the battlefield they were currently sitting on.

It was by far the best kiss he’s ever had. The bond was singing as were his shadows. Blood that still covered her mouth was smearing onto his, their sweat was wiping off on each other, and the dirt caked onto his hands were getting in her braid as he held onto the back of her head. It was not the best circumstances for a first kiss, but he did not care. It was beautiful and magical and every other positive adjective that he could not think of. A swipe of her tongue against his was electric. His shadows had never sung to someone as they had her. They broke apart and the smile on Gwyn’s face was worth every hardship he had to endure to get to this moment.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #mating bond #mates #acotar #acosf

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dreaming-in-prythian · 3 years ago

Text

From a World Once Out of Reach

Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Read on AO3

The final chapter of my Helion - Lucien reveal fic!

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Elain was having a decidedly strange day. It was rare, but occasionally she would feel things from him. The male that her very soul was shackled to. Elain had determined that when he experienced an emotion strongly, she would have some awareness through the bond. Sometimes an impression of sadness, a whisper of anger, or an echo of happiness. Since this morning though – there had been relief, and happiness. Then only a few minutes after that there was a flurry of emotions stronger than anything Elain had felt from him before. Anger, betrayal, feelings swirling so fast she didn’t know what to make of it. Then it had stopped for a blessed few minutes and she had returned to her current task of making bread when another wave of emotions crashed over her. Betrayal again, and guilt, and more anger.

Cerridwen found her then, frozen at the counter as she uselessly wished the storm of emotions away, starting to say something in her soft voice. And then suddenly – Elain felt nothing from him. The abrupt silence over the bond worried Elain more than she cared to admit. So that’s why she told Cerridwen, “There’s – something’s wrong with Lucien. I felt – I think someone should check on him.”

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Helion should have been focusing on his son, sitting at that table, but his attention was consumed by overwhelming fury at Rhys. Feyre too, although he had known her only a few years. Rhysand’s betrayal cut deeper. There were always politics to play but still, Helion had thought they were friends. Or at least on decent enough terms as allies for Rhys to mention his suspicions. He had seen Rhys and Feyre exchange knowing looks when the discussion around the table began and Helion realized immediately that somehow, impossibly, they had known about Lucien already.

Helion was aware of Seraphina and Eris beginning to argue as he felt Rhysand’s presence requesting entrance to his mind.

“You better have a damned good explanation Rhysand,” Helion had said the second he allowed him – and Feyre – into a compartment of his mind.

“You have my deepest apologies Helion,” he said. “Mine as well,” Feyre had added. “We didn’t want to say anything because it could endanger Lady Seraphina and it didn’t seem like our place to-”

“Didn’t seem like your place to perhaps mention suspicions about an illegitimate child of mine? A son that just so happened to be acting as your own emissary?” Helion asked sarcastically.

Then Lucien figured out what was going on and everything went to crap, and Helion was left with a distraught Seraphina, a riled-up Eris, and a High Lord and Lady who didn’t look nearly as ashamed of themselves as he felt they should.

Sera excused herself immediately, fighting back more tears. Helion froze, debating whether he should after her, or give Rhysand and Feyre a piece of his mind right then. Eris made the decision for him, starting after his mother and telling Helion, “I’ll go talk to her, you deal with them.”

Helion crossed his arms and looked expectantly at the High Lord and Lady of Night. “Well?” he inquired coldly.

“What would it have changed, Helion?” Rhysand asked softly. “Even if you believed us, what would there be to do? Any talk about it would have increased the chances of word getting back to Beron, which we feared would put Lady Seraphina in danger.”

“What would it have changed?” Helion asked incredulously. “I would have known, Rhysand, that’s what. I thought you would have learned about keeping secrets from those close to you after the disaster during Feyre’s pregnancy, but apparently not,” he shot, his tone pure ice.

Rhysand’s eyes shuttered at that, and Feyre lowered her head. “We’ll just be leaving then,” Rhysand said flatly, turning to Feyre. He took her hand and prepared to winnow them, then abruptly froze. He pressed his eyes shut for a moment, and turned back to Helion, looking apprehensive.

“What,” Helion growled. He’d held his rage back so far, but he had his limit and was nearly pushed to it.

“I was just alerted – Elain felt her bond with Lucien go silent suddenly a minute ago. It could be nothing – he may have realized he was unwittingly sending his emotions down the bond and calmed down enough to cut it off,” Rhysand said, although he sounded doubtful.

Helion felt his control slipping, golden talons from his beast form starting to appear on his hands. His son was in danger… Only Eris’s sudden reappearance distracted him enough that he didn’t lunge at the High Lord and Lady of Night.

“You’re still here?” Eris asked them disdainfully.

“We just heard from Velaris that Elain felt something wrong with Lucien through the bond,” Feyre explained grimly, mouth tight.

“If he is in danger, we’re wasting precious time. Tell me where he might have gone,” Helion bit out. Gods, less than a day that he had known and already he had failed to look out for his son.

“He likely went back to the manor with Jurian and Vassa,” Feyre said. “I can show you –”

“I think you’ve done enough today, High Lady,” Eris interrupted her smoothly, ignoring Rhysand’s warning glare. “I have been to the manor myself, so I can direct Helion.”

Feyre held up her hands placatingly. “I just want to help. We all care about Lucien’s safety.”

Eris snorted and said, “Yes, I’m sure you care only as far as his death might negatively impact his little mate.”

Feyre’s eyes flashed but Rhysand’s hand on her shoulder settled her. “Tell us what we can do to help, and we will do whatever we can to aid Lucien’s safe return,” he said calmly.

Helion scoffed. “For once, I agree with Eris. You have both done enough.”

“Helion –” Rhysand began, almost pleadingly.

“Get out of my court,” Helion snarled, taking a threatening step towards the pair of them. “You may have had your reasons, but it does not change the fact that you hid my son from me for years, that you still said nothing about your suspicions even after having your own son –” he forced himself to take a measured breath. “I need time. Barring imminent disaster, I don’t want to receive any communication until I reach out to you first, or I swear there will never be any alliance between us again.”

Rhysand and Feyre nodded in acquiescence, their faces grave, before finally winnowing away.

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Helion winnowed to roughly the area that Eris had described. He spotted a collection of houses including a large building in the distance which he assumed must be the manor, and prepared to winnow to the door when he spotted something like a streak of fire above the nearby field. Vassa, the cursed mortal queen, spent her days as a firebird – it had to be her. He didn’t know how well she was able to communicate in bird form, but hopefully she could direct him in some fashion. If Lucien wasn’t here, he’d have to regroup and continue his search elsewhere. Lucien had gone centuries without a father to protect and defend him, and Helion refused to fail him now that he knew. He swore he would cover all of Prythian if necessary to find his son, even if Lucien was pissed as hell at him for keeping quiet earlier in the day.

As Helion winnowed closer, he noted that the stalks of wheat were flattened ahead of him in the field as if blown by a strong wind, but the wheat to his sides was untouched. It was then he realized that towards the center where Vassa hovered, there was a figure on the ground – no, two figures. The first was a brown-haired mortal who turned to Helion as he stood, alerted to his presence. Jurian. And on the ground –

Helion was on his knees beside Lucien in an instant, feeling for a pulse because Cauldron he was so still – he was shaky with relief when he detected Lucien’s heartbeat. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded of Jurian, who was watching him with wide eyes.

“Lord Helion, what –“ Jurian began.

“Tell me what happened,” Helion repeated.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Jurian said warily. “He woke me up banging the door open a little while ago, snarled something about people keeping secrets and ‘damned High Lords’ – he did say something about Beron finally being dead, I think? Then he went outside, and I figured I’d let him work off whatever it was on his own. Next thing I knew there was a burst of light outside, and Vassa was screeching outside the window and she led me over here. No sign of injury but we can’t wake him.”

“Did someone attack him?” Helion asked, trying to suppress his panic.

“Not that I saw,” Jurian answered. “No offense Lord Helion, but why the hell are you suddenly so concerned about Lucien?” Jurian’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as his hand drifted towards the sword sheathed at his hip. “Do you have something to do with his current condition?” Vassa swooped past, threateningly close – a warning that she could attack if Helion’s answer was unsatisfactory.

Helion gave a bitter laugh. “In a matter of speaking perhaps. I found out last night that Lucien is my son.”

Jurian let his half-drawn sword slide back into its sheath as his eyes darted back and forth between Lucien and Helion in shock. Vassa squawked in what Helion could only interpret as surprise. “I’d accuse you of lying but that statement sounds so insane I’m inclined to believe you’re not making it up,” Jurian stated.

Vassa, who had hovered threateningly above Helion until that point, alighted carefully on the flattened wheat of the field. She pecked towards Jurian’s feet before cawing three times.

“That’s Vassa’s way of saying she can answer our questions if we ask in yes/no fashion,” Jurian explained, shaking a burning ember off of his boot and stomping it out. “Two cries for ‘no’, three for ‘yes’.”

“Did you see what happened? Did someone attack him?” Helion asked the firebird. Vassa gave three quick cries, then two. Yes, no. “Did…” a thought occurred to Helion. “The wheat in the field was flattened. Did – was there light and wind coming from Lucien?” He got three cries in answer.

Helion closed his eyes briefly, relieved. “I think it’s some form of magical exhaustion,” he told them both. “His mother had a binding spell put on him as a youngling. If he shattered it just now, that would explain things.”

The tension drained out of Jurian’s body at that pronouncement. “So nothing’s wrong with him except being reckless and needing a good nap.”

“I believe so,” Helion said, a smile curling the corner of his lips. He was glad to know that Lucien had good friends, as odd a group as they made. “I’ll take him back to Day, have my healer look at him.”

Helion gripped Lucien’s limp arm and gathered his power to winnow as Jurian said, “Tell Lucien he better get his ass back here and tell us the whole story the minute he’s recovered!” Vassa chirped in what Helion assumed was agreement as he winnowed away.

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Helion winnowed them directly onto the bed in a guest room next to the suite he’d given Sera and sent immediately for his personal healer. Minutes later, the healer confirmed what Helion had suspected – Lucien was fine, simply drained of energy. Sera, who had hovered nervously in the room until that point, had relaxed and slipped out of the room and back to her own. Helion knew he should probably get sleep himself, having been awake for most of the past 24 hours, but he pulled a chair over to the bedside and studied his son as he slept.

Lucien looked younger in sleep, and Helion could nearly picture him as a youngling. Full of excitement and energy and hope, before the Mother put him through hell. Before he suffered things that Helion should have shielded him from, would have shielded him from if only he had known. He’d seen his lover slaughtered in front of him and was chased out of his home. Then under the mountain…Helion shuddered to remember it.

Sera found him there some time later in the afternoon. “Still asleep then,” she said, leaving over to stroke her son’s hair. “Have you been sitting here all day Helion?” she asked, brow furrowed in concern.

“I missed so much, Sera,” Helion told her, his voice rough. “His birth, his first words and steps – I didn’t even see him for the first time until he was well full-grown! I don’t want to waste a second when I can finally be here for him.”

Sorrow crossed Sera’s face, but then a spark glinted in her eye as she told him, “I have something for you, if Eris has sent it. I’ll be right back.”

True to her word, she returned a few minutes later, a worn leather book in her hand. “I started keeping this journal the week Lucien was born,” she explained, holding it out to Helion. He reached slowly to take it. “I know it is in no way a replacement but it’s something, at least, to fill you in on what you missed,” she told him.

Helion found his hands rather unsteady as he flipped open the journal to the first entry:

June 26th: Barely a week old and already Lucien is my easiest baby. He feeds and sleeps easily. Although I have discovered he does NOT like bath time. I think the water being trapped in his fuzz of hair annoys him.

The next entry:

July 8th: I saw him smile for the first time today – not a ‘true’ smile in response to anything, I know – he’s still weeks too young for that – but adorable all the same.

Helion flipped several pages ahead:

September 30th: Lucien’s first laugh! We were playing peek-a-boo and he clearly enjoyed it.

October 2nd: A minor accident today – Eris offered to help with Lucien this afternoon, and the moment I handed him over, Lucien spit up all over him. Eris was so annoyed, but Cauldron did it make me laugh!

He rifled through more pages, tears threatening to blur his vision. The volume was filled with little notes, the dates all marked continuing for decades. Helion looked up to Sera, who fidgeted with the skirt of her gown. “Now I’m wondering if it might make it worse” she murmured, “like a catalog of everything you missed, but…I hoped it might be something you gain, to at least get some of the bits and pieces.”

“This is – precious, Sera,” Helion choked out. “Thank you.”

She nodded and said, “It is the absolute least of what I owe you. I have some more bits and pieces back in Autumn.” Her mouth twisted as she explained, “Beron didn’t approve of…sentiment…but I saved a few things, hid them in my chambers. I’ll have Eris look for them, or I can send them in a few months when things have calmed down.”

“You’re not returning the Forest House?” Helion asked, perplexed.

“Not until any threats are…eliminated,” Sera said. She clarified with a sardonic smile, “It’s viewed as natural for heirs to plot and kill their way into power. The fact that I had a hand in weakening Beron, as a female and his wife no less – well, there are a number of Beron’s supporters who would love to seek revenge.”

“Sera, if you’re in danger…” Helion began with a frown.

“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly. “I have an old friend near the border with Summer who will host me.”

“Or you could stay here,” Helion blurted. He hadn’t meant to voice that idea out loud but the thought of her leaving again, walking back into Autumn in danger… something deep inside him raged at that thought.

Sera’s brows rose in surprise. “Stay…here,” she repeated.

“Here in the city,” Helion said. “I can easily have an apartment found for you.” Stay, he wanted to beg.

“I appreciate it, Helion,” she said, offering a strained smile, “but I don’t wish to impose on your hospitality any longer. The Mother knows you owe me nothing at this point.”

“What if I want to give you something though?” Helion asked, lurching to his feet and drawing close to Sera. Cauldron boil him, he was about to lay his heart at her feet, but he needed to say it. He asked softly, “Would you stay, if I told you I want you close? To spend time with you again?”

Sera’s eyes were wide as she stared up at him. “I thought you were furious with me,” she whispered.

Helion snorted and rubbed a hand over his face. “Of course I’m angry Sera! But it will shred my heart if I let you walk away from me again.” He leaned in close, and said quietly, “Tell me you feel nothing, tell me you gave up on the idea of us together, and I will let you go.”

Sera reached up a trembling hand, resting it against his cheek. “I told you centuries ago that you had my heart,” she whispered reverently, “and I have never gotten it back.”

“Say that you’ll stay, then,” Helion breathed.

“I’ll stay,” she said, a spark lighting in her russet eyes. “If you’re willing to give this – us – another chance, then so am I.”

Her hand still was still against his cheek. Helion covered it with his own and turned his head to place a tender kiss on her palm, prompting a blush that spread over her pale face. “We’ll take it slow,” he said. “I want to get to know my son, and I imagine you’d like some time by yourself to readjust to life free of Beron.”

Sera nodded, stating, “I’ll start looking for an apartment in the city tomorrow. Stay out of your way for now, but remain close.” A smile began to grow on her face, the first genuine smile Helion had seen from her in decades, as she said, “I’ll get settled, and then see what the future holds for us.”

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Lucien came back to awareness slowly. He registered a soft bed beneath him, scents that were familiar but that he couldn’t place – not the manor or Velaris or Spring. His eyes opened. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, and crossed with a multitude of wards. His eyes fell shut as it all started coming back to him – the meeting and the revelations, winnowing back to the manor before ripping his hidden power free. His eyes snapped open once more and he examined the wards above him. Day court – he must be back in Day, and the wards – he squinted his good eye shut. He saw with his mechanical eye a number of wards, like always. However… He squinted that eye shut now, gazing only with his remaining russet eye. Even more wards appeared, ones that looked older and more complex. Well then.

Lucien moved to sit up but quickly fell back, his head swimming. He felt almost heavy, the air pressing in… oh, he realized belatedly. It was extra magic that he could feel now, asking him to use it. He had always gotten by just fine using his magic occasionally, but he had heard his brothers and the High Lords talk about the strain it caused not to use magic frequently throughout the day. He reached out awareness and tentatively poked at a ward with his magic – then cursed quietly as the ward simply disintegrated. Hopefully it hadn’t been an important one. He was going to need training with all of this he realized – spell-cleaving as well as the light and wind powers associated with Day. And he should probably avoid using those new powers in the meantime, because clearly he was…very strong.

He turned his head to the side to take in the rest of the room, and was abruptly startled to find Helion sleeping in an armchair beside the bed. Helion, High Lord of Day, who was apparently his real father. Cauldron boil him, that would take getting used to. Lucien slipped out of the bed as silently as possible. He found his legs somewhat unsteady, but made his way into sitting room, carefully closing the door behind him. There he blessedly found a pitcher of water – he was definitely dehydrated after everything. He had no sooner drained the glass than his mother entered from the hall.

“My love! You’re awake,” she exclaimed. She started forward then halted, asking carefully, “How are you feeling?”

Of course,Lucien recalled, stomach suddenly churning, I was shouting at her right before I left. Not that it was completely unjustified but… Cauldron boil me, the first time I see her in centuries and I end up raging at her like Beron.

“I feel fine,” he told her. “I apologize for earlier. I was angry but that doesn’t excuse shouting at you.”

His mother shook her head and stated sorrowfully, “I owe you a much greater apology, my Lucien. I was working up to telling you about my secret but I let you walk out of that room and into the meeting without knowing. You were also, as you succinctly pointed out, owed the truth in some form when I had the chance to send a letter these past centuries.” There was something very fragile in her eyes as she offered, “I can continue with the rest of the story I began yesterday, if you would like to hear it.”

“Yes, I would,” Lucien said thickly, both of them finding their seats in adjoining armchairs. “ I – wait, yesterday?” he asked, her words finally clicking in his brain. It appeared to be about midday, and he had assumed he was out for only a few hours. “I suppose I am still a little out of it. Was – He –“ the name stuck in his throat, “Helion the one who brought me back here?”

“Yes,” his mother confirmed with a gentle smile. “We guessed you had gone to the manor, so Helion went and found you unconscious in a field with your human friends trying to wake you. He winnowed you back, and you’ve slept straight through the day and night.”

Lucien cursed, earning a disapproving raise of his mother’s eyebrow. “Jurian and Vassa,” he explained, “I must have scared the hell out of them if I just up and collapsed then vanished. I should send them a message.” He was prepared to jump up from his seat, but his mother placed a settling hand on his knee.

“Helion took care of it,” she informed him. “He sent them a note last night with an update.”

Lucien was taken aback. “Oh…good,” was all he said. Helion had ‘taken care of it’. Had taken care of him. The way a father was supposed to, the way Beron never had. He shook his head slightly to clear the thought. Right now, he wanted to hear the rest of what his mother had tried to tell him the day before. “Well, what’s the rest of your story?” he asked expectantly.

“I believe we were interrupted right as I told you I learned I was pregnant with you,” she began, starting to twist her hands nervously in the skirt of her dress. “I had been away – here, in Day Court – for several days the month before, and although there was a chance you were Beron’s I felt it deep in my bones that there was something different, and I began to worry…”

Lucien listened as she told him about Beron’s discovery of the affair, the lonely months in isolation during the remainder of her pregnancy, her relief that Lucien could pass for Beron’s offspring, the spell Eris had helped her place on him to hide his powers. Lucien clenched his jaw so tightly at parts that it was starting to ache by the end.

“I am so sorry for hiding it from you, my Lucien,” his mother finally concluded. “I told myself it was the best way to protect both you and Helion, but I…terrible things happened anyway, and if I’d just been braver, stronger, I could have told you –”

“I can’t blame you,” Lucien interrupted her. “Beron had eyes and ears everywhere. You prevented war.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded, “but it was not fair – to you or Helion.”

“No,” Lucien agreed with a frown. “But I forgive you, mother,” he told her earnestly. “I also have half a mind to march into Autumn, find Beron’s corpse, and desecrate it.”

His mother’s lips twitched as she commented dryly, “I’m sorry to say, I believe Eris burnt it to ashes already.”

“A pity,” Lucien sighed.

Just then, there was shuffling and muffled cursing from the other room before Helion burst through the door. He brought himself up short upon seeing both Lucien and Seraphina sitting there. “Oh, you’re here,” he said dumbly, staring at Lucien. “I woke up and you were gone, and one of the wards was shattered. I feared something had happened.”

“We’re both here and fine,” Seraphina said, smiling fondly. “I was just leaving – come, sit,” she added, rising and offering Helion her chair. Lucien could have never imagined the smooth, suave High Lord of Day looking as awkward as he did while taking a seat next to Lucien.

“I’ll leave you both to talk. I’m off to begin searching for an apartment in the city,” she declared blithely, slipping quickly out the door.

Lucien and Helion considered each other for a beat. “Apartment hunting,” Lucien said incredulously.

“She’s planning to stay here, in the city,” Helion offered as explanation. Another prolonged pause followed.

“Lucien –“

“When I –“

They both began to speak at the same time. Helion gestured for Lucien to continue.

“About the shattered ward,” Lucien said with a wince, “When I woke up I was testing out my new power, trying to examine the wards I couldn’t see before but I, well, may have misjudged my strength.”

“Ah. Well, that’s easily remedied. It wasn’t an important ward,” Helion assured him. He fixed Lucien with a steady amber gaze. “I owe you an enormous apology. You were right when you were yelling at me yesterday. You should have been told the truth the second we encountered you in the courtyard,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “I had just finished telling your mother that you deserved to know as soon as possible but then you just – appeared – before I had prepared myself and I panicked.”

“Out of everyone, you knew for the least amount of time. I won’t hold it against you,” Lucien told him. His voice rasped past the lump in his throat as he added, “You came after me right away. Dropped everything to make sure I was safe.”

“You’re my son,” Helion replied firmly, blinking back the tears that threatened. “I missed centuries that I should have spent protecting you, but I will not fail, now that I know.”

Another beat of silence passed before Lucien found his voice and asked softly, “You never suspected? I know mother said Beron tried to cover up some information, lying about the date of my birth but…you never wondered?”

Helion’s expression was stricken as he answered, “No, I am mortified to say that I didn’t. I was…well, heartbroken. I never wanted to look too closely, because it was so painful to know that Sera had left.”

Yet another uncomfortable silence followed, until Lucien had to laugh. Helion looked bewildered until Lucien articulated, “This is so bizarre. Cauldron boil me, this is weird.” He rubbed a hand over his face and continued, more speaking to himself than Helion, “My piece of shit father dies, but surprise! He wasn’t my father. My real father is a different High Lord, and we were both the last ones to know the truth.”

Helion snorted in amusement and said, “And I have a son who’s already over three centuries old.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about changing any diapers,” Lucien offered wryly, prompting an outright laugh from Helion.

“Silver linings,” Helion replied, amusement lighting his face. His expression quickly sobered, however, as he said, “We are certainly never going to have a typical father-son relationship.”

“I’m afraid not,” Lucien told him ruefully.

“I want to get to know you Lucien,” Helion said seriously. “I just – I have no idea how to be a father.”

“You’ve done a decent job just in the past day, especially compared to Beron,” Lucien told him honestly. “Coming to check on me, keeping my friends updated – that’s not a bad start at all.”

Helion nodded slowly and seemed to make a deliberation in his head. “You must be hungry by now,” he said, rising from his seat. “I am, at least. I’ll have breakfast set out – well, lunch by now I suppose. Then you’re welcome to stay, or go if you want to check in with your friends. The healer expected you’d be fine to winnow after awaking.”

“Food would be wonderful,” Lucien said, getting up from his chair as well. “I think I’ll take the rest of the day to recover, and start getting a handle on these new powers,” he stated carefully.

“If you’d like - I can show you how to fix the ward today, to start mastering your power. After lunch, if that’s okay?” Helion asked. Although his voice was steady, there was a fragileness to his expression, as if he feared Lucien would reject the suggestion.

Lucien offered him a half smile. “I think that would be a great place to start.”

Helion smiled, turning to open the door, and stepped out into the hall. Lucien took a steadying breath before following his father out to face a new day.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read, I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry about the month-long cliffhanger 😅

I got a copy of HOSAB sooner than expected so that consumed most of my free time, then as I tried to finish up this story I kept getting more and more ideas. I wrapped it up here but I'm planning some sort of sequel when I have the time!

#lucien #lucien vanserra #helion #helion spell cleaver #helion acotar #lady of autumn #helion x loa #helion x lady of autumn #lucien spell cleaver #post acosf

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talkfantasytome · 4 years ago

Note

I'm sorry, I got carried away writing. But here are more thoughts for us to talk about, if you feel uncomfortable let me know.

When I read the Koschei/Azriel scene I also thought as you did. I felt that he was preparing for personal combat but not that he was preparing something to go after Azriel. Many people think this will link A+E, but the case is that he as the Queen's ally was preparing because of the fight she wanted to have, Nesta vs Queen and indirectly the IC. Nobody knows what happened between A+E either, so hardly anyone is going to think of reaching him through it. If they want to reach him it will be through the Ilyrians/Valkyries, as the Queen tried once before. She had some contact and managed to get some ilyrians to obey her. A lot of people think Elain can find the fourth trove too, which might happen, but the one who has the ability to stay underwater for a long time to retrieve that is someone else.

Koschei and Beron are not allies yet, Eris talks about Beron possibly allying with him but they are not yet. The fact that he helps the Queen indirectly make him looking at the IC. As Vassa said everything he does is thinking about getting rid of the curse that binds him to the lake and with that in mind his possible interest is Nesta (because she gets access to the Trove, he must think that with that he will be able to get rid of the curse). I believe that if he is going to attack someone to try to benefit from it will be Nesta's, unless Beron suspects Lucien's paternity and bargains with Koschei, by getting Elain he would have Nesta+Lucien on his hands

I don't know why I have this feeling but Koschei gives me the same vibe as Eris, that there is something more to be told. I don't know if he is 100% bad, Vassa said it would be dangerous for him to get rid of the lake because he has already tried to take over the world and recreate it his way, but I don't know. Not that he is not a villain but I believe he has more to be told.

I also feel terrible for saying that but I thought he might have a love interest in Vassa. He made the queens sell her to him and she is the only different bird in his pond, she released her and for a good while and told Vassa that he is waiting for her. There is a story, I don't know if it's the one about the firebird, that the wizard fell in love with the firebird. (I don't know if I got in the way of the story but there is one that is like this).

What I believe connects him to Elain is the fact that she can hear the birds and knows about the box he has hidden in the lake (I think), which hides a secret, and his possible interest in Nesta and perhaps Lucien to get him out of the lake.

Never apologize for getting excited or being longwinded on something, Nonnie! Especially not to me. It's not like I can judge. 😂 But there is never a need to apologize for just being yourself. <3

Exactly. The Koschei scene offers no foreshadowing for Azriel and E\ain. There is no focus explicitly on Azriel, the only one who is given true, direct focus is Cassian, because that's who the trap was for. Briallyn wanted to make it worse for Nesta, so the idea of getting her mate to kill her - or make Nesta need to kill him in defense - was too good to pass up. (What a bitch.)

I'll be honest, I don't think Koschei, at that time, was planning on taking Nesta, seeing as the plan was to kidnap Cassian to use in a plot to kill Nesta or to literally destroy her emotionally. Or, you know, both. While Nesta is a badass and Koschei would be lucky to have her, I just don't see her as being an end goal for him. He wasn't seeking the Trove, Briallyn was. Maybe he did want it, or some of it, but then why let Briallyn wear the crown, you know? I'm not saying she couldn't be useful to him, or that he might adjust his goals, but I don't think at that time he wanted her. Honestly, I still think E\ain will be a bigger goal for Koschei, whether for her seer abilities or her beauty or something else, Koschei's story will wrap up with E\ain, so we should be looking for foreshadowing on how that might play out, or why he might want her.

I also feel terrible for saying that but I thought he might have a love interest in Vassa.

Don't feel terrible for this! It's just a theory. Plus, just because she's a love interest to Koschei doesn't mean he's a love interest to her. It doesn't have to be reciprocated just 'cause he wants her.

But you're ABSOLUTELY right. Vassa is definitely some form of 'love interest' to Koschei. Maybe not the kind we're used to seeing, and it may not be a love in the traditional sense, but he trapped her at the lake to be with him. Possibly because of her beauty. He even calls her "my Vassa".

And, you may be talking about Swan Lake? I don't know the firebird story (yet, but probably will be looking into it), but I think that's a general theory on Swan Lake. It's a ballet, and the curse happens in the prologue, so we don't really get final confirmation the sorcerer's motives. HOWEVER, in the Swan Princess, which is based on Swan Lake, the evil sorcerer takes Odette as revenge on her father. He doesn't actually love her, but he does want to marry her, so that he can be king of her kingdom. Not exactly love, but a desire to marry her still offers her being his love interest, to an extent. This could also explain Koschei's interest in Vassa, but I don't see him being willing to settle for just one mortal kingdom.

Also, quick note, in the Swan Lake ballet, there are multiple swan girls, and Odette is just the main one, and the most important because she's an actual princess (I think). So, like, just saying, in a retelling of that, that could mean Vassa doesn't end up being the only one cursed. 👀 I could easily see how SJM could make a Lucien-E\ain book retelling Swan Lake/the Swan Princess (because we know she'll use childhood movies based on fairy tales to help with retellings). Where Lucien attempts to break the curse the wrong way/with the wrong female...like, maybe Koschei makes Vassa look like E\ain in a bargain to free her from her curse...oh man...I could go on about this too. 👀

So, yeah, she is a love interest to him. But, he's also one of the Daglan, a true immortal being - we can assume he's gonna be a bit different. His idea of 'love' is likely different than ours.

I'll admit, I sometimes get lost with the stuff about E\ain's vision. I'd need to study that more, but I'm sure there are more connections between E\ain and Koschei than I initially saw if I dig into it deeper.

Gotta say, especially if you're the same nonnie who's been sending me a lot of stuff, you've really got me thinking more about this. It's making me stronger in my convictions and beliefs, and inspiring a whole slew of theories about the potential for that sixth book. The more I look into Vasilisa the Beautiful and Swan Lake, the more I can see how E\ain would connect, and the possibilities for that story. I'm curious to see what'll happen once I look into the firebird legends, though, in my initial search, all I see is that the firebird is more a symbol in fairy tales - it's not a tale itself. So, like, there's not much of a retelling as much as just...putting firebirds into the story...more proof that Vassa being a firebird does not prove she's going to be a MC.

Oh shit! I just saw that there's a tale of "The Firebird and Princess Vasilisa"! That's a very important piece of information, me thinks. More things to study, but look at that...they're DIFFERENT characters. INTERESTING! I'm telling you, E\ain is Vasilisa!

So, anyway, thank you! <3

#ask box #acotar thoughts #acotar theory #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elain archeron #lucien #vassa #elucien #elain and lucien #elain x lucien #koschei #koschei the deathless #swan lake #briallyn

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abaikgirl · 4 years ago

Note

No 5 friendly fighting drabble for Nightmight pls? (Have a great day x)

Send me a number and a ship for a Friendly Fighting drabble

Aw, thanks! I have to say, this is probably my favorite drabble I’ve written for these asks so far. I hope you enjoy!

----------------------------------

To say All Might was nervous to visit Nighteye was a gross understatement. He had seen him briefly right after the Overhaul raid, when the doctors were still unsure if he would survive his injuries. They had exchanged a brief flurry of words, neither sure if it would be their last conversation. All Might mostly remembered the things he wished he would have said to him.

I’m sorry for not listening to you.

I should have never pushed you away.

If I don’t see you after this then I want you to know that I...I’ve always...

The unspoken words swirled in his head as he walked the halls of the hospital, his hands worrying the plastic wrapping on the bouquet of flowers he carried. As he approached Nighteye’s room, he could hear voices. All Might stopped just outside of the open door, listening to the lively conversation inside.

Midoriya and Mirio had made a habit of visiting Nighteye while he was in the hospital. He didn’t have much family and the boys had taken it upon themselves to make sure he had plenty of company while he recovered.

Miro was recounting the events of the cultural festival. “...and then there was a big flash like woosh,” Mirio said, “and Eri-chan was so happy. I had never seen her smile so big! I wish you could have seen it, Sir.”

“I do as well,” Nighteye replied. “From what I’ve heard, the entire performance was quite spectacular.”

“Yes, Midoriya-kun did a great job,” Mirio replied.

“Well, it was mostly thanks to Jiro-chan for organizing the band and writing the music,” Midoriya insisted. “I was barely on stage because they needed my help with the special effects.”

“That part is equally important,” Nighteye said.

Midoriya, uncomfortable with all the praise, changed the subject. “Eri asks about you often, Sir. You should come and visit UA when you feel up to it, I’m sure she would love to see you.”

“I plan on it,” Nighteye replied. “It’s the least I can do to repay you both for all of your visits.”

All Might smiled to himself. He knew Nighteye and Midoriya had gotten off on the wrong foot, but it sounded like that poor first meeting was long forgotten now.

All Might stepped into the room and cleared his throat. The three of them turned to look at him. Midoriya lit up and jumped to his feet. “All Might! You made it!”

“Yes. I apologize for my lateness, I was detained at UA.” Not a total lie, he had been wrapping up some grading, but he was honestly just procrastinating. This would be the first time in many years that he and Nighteye spoke on a one on one basis and what was left of his stomach churned at the prospect of it.

Nighteye’s expression was unreadable as he looked at him from his hospital bed. All Might was aware of his empty sleeve and did his best to not stare.

Mirio jumped to his feet. “You can have my seat All Might. Midoriya-kun and I were just going to go get something to eat, right?”

Midoriya jolted as Mirio’s words sunk in. “Y-yes. We’ll be back later.”

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” All Might began, but Mirio was pushing him into his seat and Midoriya took the bouquet of flowers from his hands and set it in one of the many vases that sat on the window sill. Most of them were already full of flowers sent by Nighteye’s sidekicks and other pros who worked the Overhaul raid with him.

“It’s not on your account,” Mirio said with a grin and he and Midoriya left.

All Might watched them go feeling a little betrayed. He had agreed to this visit because he thought he would have Mirio and Midoriya as a buffer. Now it seems the two of them had conspired to force them to talk alone. All Might turned around and saw Nighteye looking at the flowers he’d brought.

Despite the fact that he had lost quite a bit of weight from his injury and his hair wasn’t as perfectly styled as it usually was, when All Might looked at his profile he felt his breath catch.

Even after all these years, Nighteye was as handsome as ever.

“Sunflowers?” Nighteye asked, his voice low and quiet.

“Yes,” All Might rubbed the back of his head. “They’re still your favorite, right?”

He nodded. “They remind me of you, the way your hair looks when it’s loose...like now…”

All Might felt blood rush to his cheeks. Nighteye was still a romantic. “Young Midoriya says your recovery is going well.”

“Yes. I should be strong enough to be discharged in a week or so. If they don’t have to do another surgery.”

“We’ll have matching scars.”

“I suppose we will.”

They lapsed into awkward silence. It was hard for All Might to find those unsaid words. He had faced down countless villains and disasters and yet in the face of his former sidekick all of his courage left him. That was how it always was with Nighteye. There was something so disarming about him that could reduce even All Might to a trembling mess.

“I’ve been thinking about the future,” Nighteye said at last. He sat back, gazing unseeing at the ceiling. “Eri-chan and Midoriya-kun have changed the future I had seen and now I’m not sure what to do with myself. I didn’t think I would live this long.” He paused for a moment, struggling to find the right words. “I’m not used to being wrong.”

“I never expected to live this long either, so I understand how you feel.” He thought back to their last conversation, in another hospital, many years ago. Their argument that even now still haunts All Might, Nighteye’s words still echoing in his ears whenever he thought of him.

“You said you hated me.”

All Might’s words made Nighteye finally look at him, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The last time we spoke, when you tried to warn me of the future you saw...you said you hated me.”

Nighteye frowned. “I did not.”

“I remember--”

“I said I hated how you never listened to me. That’s completely different.” He turned away, looking at the flowers again. “If anyone said ‘I hate you’ it was probably you.”

All Might gaped at him. “I would never--how could I hate you?”

“I broke my promise. You would be justified if you hated me for it.”

“Well, you were always the one to say thoughtless things, so it was definitely you who said it.”

Nighteye’s shoulder shook and for a moment All Might thought he had upset him. Then he noticed how his remaining hand was to his face, trying to stifle the laughter bubbling out of him. It had been so long since he had heard Nighteye laugh.

It was a beautiful sound.

“Why are you laughing?” All Might asked, unsure what he had said that was so amusing.

“This is the dumbest thing we have ever argued about,” Nighteye said with a snort.

All Might found himself laughing as well. He knew Nighteye hated his own laughter, but All Might found it adorable. “I guess it is pretty stupid.”

Nighteye paused in his laughter, clutching his side with a gasp of pain. All Might reached for him. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. It just hurts to laugh.”

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He removed his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes. “It’s the most I’ve laughed in a long time.”

“I missed your laugh,” All Might admitted. “I’m glad I got to hear it again.”

Nighteye rolled his eyes. “Only you would miss something so terrible.”

“It’s not terrible. I’ve always liked it.”

“That makes one of us.”

Out in the hall, Mirio and Midoriya looked at each other and smiled. Midoriya didn’t think it was ok to eavesdrop like this, but Mirio was worried that Nighteye might get too agitated being left with All Might like this and wanted to be able to step in if things got too heated. Satisfied the risk of that had passed, Mirio gave him a thumbs up and they walked away, leaving the two old pros to continue their talk for a while longer.

#nightmight #bnha fanfiction #drabbles #asks #skoinonm8 #all might #sir nighteye #everyone lives au

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wakaoujisenhime · 5 years ago

Text

I promise - Kirishima x reader

A/N: So this is a story I wrote especially for the person who inspired me to start this blog! A big thanks to @/ikinabi! I really hope you enjoy it and sorry that it took so long! (〃ﾟдﾟ〃)

Tags: Kirishima x reader ✅ SFW ✅ minimal NSFW ✅ slight angst ✅ fluff ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

You knew it and you regretted letting him go again. The first time was because of his best friend Bakugou who got kidnapped and now the second time during their work-studies.

Some days ago, Kirishima confessed that he’d participate in a serious mission alongside some of his 1A classmates. The Pro-Heros would overtake a dangerous group that goes by the name of ‘Shie Hassaikai’ and free a little girl called Eri. Or at least that was the plan. Back then you were to overwhelmed by all the facts he had dropped like bombshells at you, but they weren’t as important as the fact that he had hidden this from you.

"Kirishima...it hurts when you keep such important things from me."

The moment you had said that your boyfriend had immediately regretted his decisions. He embraced you tightly and apologized over and over again, making promises of not getting hurt, of coming back to you as fast as he could as well as promises of him making it out of their alive.

On the day of his departure, you got up at the same time he did (ignoring his protests) and began preparing some breakfast for him and you even went as far as to help him wherever you could so that the both of you could spend some time together before he had to leave.

Sadly for both of you the hours went by like seconds and before you knew it, you found yourself seeing him off at the front door, kissing his face on every possible spot you could think of, showering him with all of your love and affection, hoping that these would be enough motivation for him.

"H-Hey (Y/N) that tickles."

His cheeks were flushing at the feel of your soft lips on his forehead, scar, nose, and jawline. The moment your lips had brushed past his own, Kirishima unable to hold himself back anymore immediately let go of the bags he was holding and cupped your face, kissing you back passionately. Happy that your teasing had finally gotten through to him you smiled to yourself while pressing your body onto his muscular one, earning a low groan as a reaction. You figured that if you kept on pushing him further, Kirishima wouldn’t be able to hold himself back at all.

Oh, how wrong you were...

He pulled away from the kiss panting, eyes hazy, but he still managed to look directly into your glassy ones.

"Babe, I really need to go."

"Please don’t..."

Before he could answer you had your arms wrapped tightly around his body, refusing to let go, afraid that he might never return.

Your relationship with the red-haired boy was that intimate and advanced that both of you were using actions way more frequently than any words. There was no need for you to explain your feelings right then and there, he already knew. He knew that your trembling body showed your fear of him getting injured in any way. He knew that your strong grip around his own body showed your wish for him to remain by your side. But he also knew by the way your eyes occasionally looked up at him that you were uncertain if you weren’t actually getting in his way of him fulfilling his dream.

And the only way he could make all of your worries disappear was another long and loving kiss while gently running his hands through your hair, embracing you afterward and whispering sweet nothings to you announcing what he’d do to you when he returned.

And you trusted him, you really did, but somewhere deep down you just knew that this time things weren’t going to go as smoothly as planned.

The moment you had gotten a message from Kirishima‘s best friend your heart dropped.

Bakugou: They just brought him into to the hospital. He’s still unconscious.

The moment you had read Bakugou’s SMS you wasted no time running to the hospital as fast as you could, not caring that you were wearing just your boyfriend's oversized red shirt with a big ‘R’ in the middle and some leggings. Thankfully the nurses were already informed of your arrival beforehand, so they let you in the second your foot had entered the hospital.

But now you had other obstacles in front of you. Midoriya and Bakugou. You had absolutely no idea why these two would actually team up to stop you from entering your boyfriend’s room. And you had to admit that their action was slowly causing you to become more and more scared and worried for his well-being, the change in your behavior not going unnoticed.

"P-Please don’t worry, (Y/N)-san! His condition is not as bad as it seems!"

The small green-haired boy and his big eyes weren’t really helping in making you feel better...not after that statement at least.

"Step aside you damn nerd."

Pushing Midoriya aside, Bakugou glared at him and then at you.

"And you calm yourself down first. He ain’t the only patient in that room and if you just walk in there all jumpy and snotty, you’ll be bothering them as well as your shitty boyfriend."

Admitting that you were in the wrong was never one of your strengths, but right now you had no other choice but to listen to the constantly frowning blond boy and calm yourself.

After some minutes of constant breathing exercises, you felt calm enough to face Kirishima, so you stood in front of the hospital room lightly knocking on it, awaiting an answer.

“Come in“

The silent voice wasn’t familiar to you, but you still opened the door peeking inside. You saw a slightly older boy than you with indigo hair who for some reason seemed like he was regretting letting you in and a blond but muscular man who looked at you with a wide grin.

“And who might you be, young lady?“

Completely caught off guard by his question you at first take a quick look inside the room, looking for a certain redhead. There was another bed which was hidden behind some curtains in the far back of the room so you thought that this must be where Kirishima is resting.

The man who had spoken to you looked at you more closely and immediately had a hunch on who you were. His grin got wider as he cleared his throat and pointed to the bed you were currently focused on.

“Red, I think you have a visitor.”

At the sound of the familiar nickname, your eyes immediately focused on the shuffling noises behind the curtains.

And there he was. Your red-haired boyfriend with his usual big red eyes looking at where you were standing. As soon as he realized that his visitor was none other than you, Kirishima showed you one of his angelic smiles that you love so much while spreading his arms as wide as his bandages allowed him to.

“(Y/N)!”

You literally ran up to him, pulling the curtain away so that it didn’t bother the both of you as you wrapped your arms around his body holding him as tightly as you could, reassuring yourself that he was back in your arms and was still alive and well. Now it was his turn to shower your face with kisses which he gladly did the second you had looked up to him. Even though you had promised yourself not to cry, you did and it was no secret that Kirishima also felt the urge to cry, his body trembling in your arms, but he managed to hold back.

“You idiot, don’t make me worry like that ever again. Understood?”

He chuckled at your pouty lips and kissed them soon after still grinning from ear to ear, happy that he was finally back into your warm embrace.

“Got it (Y/N)! I’m not going to worry you like that ever again!”

Kirishima leaned towards your ear, gently kissing it, whispering those two words which he knew would put you at ease.

I promise ...

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha angst #mha angst #kirishima x reader #━𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 #━𝙼𝙷𝙰 #━𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝚃𝙾𝚁'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾 #ikinabi

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myforeverforlife · 5 years ago

Text

all I want is you, my love.

For @blanknearvana Idol Baekhyun (They’ve gone public with their relationship, supporting him during a comeback pre-recording and being insecure because he's a star and she's a nursing student trying to graduate) and 89. "And when did you plan on telling me this?" + 141. "Use your words." (I hope you like it! I think I strayed from the request a bit but I’m hoping everything makes sense LOL)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Word Count: 2,837

Masterlist

You were stressed out, to say the least. For the last three years, you had been tackling a heavy courseload in order to earn your bachelor's in nursing, along with hectic internship hours. Just recently, you had also begun studying for the Korean Nurses' Licensing Exam. The work kept piling up, and some days were more draining than others.

In the roughest of times, your boyfriend was there to help. Of course, it was still difficult, seeing as he was one of the biggest idols in South Korea — correction, in the world. But as faithful as Baekhyun was to his fans, he was even more devoted to you. Baekhyun did everything in his power to be just as present in the relationship as you were, making it home to your shared apartment every night — unless he was out of the country, of course. Both of you took solace in the shared comfort of your relationship for the past couple of years, finding escape from the stresses of work in each other.

The two of you had been extremely careful in keeping your relationship hidden from the public. Although Baekhyun had everlasting faith in the support and love from his fans, you had heard of enough horror stories when it came to celebrities dating. Plus, the fear of anti-fans figuring out who you were, where you worked and went to school... it was overwhelming. There had already been a few close calls in the past month, a few stalkers getting much too close for comfort. Baekhyun understood how you felt, but he also believed it was better to be the ones to share the news. He had seen how much worse fans reacted when the news outlets were the ones to spread news, rather than the idols themselves.

A mess of conflicting thoughts swirled around in Baekhyun's head, both of you curled up on the couch as a movie played on TV. "Babe?" he asked hesitantly. He continued on when he heard you hum in response. "I want to go public about us." Baekhyun sat up when he felt you freeze, both of you breaking apart. "Why now?" you asked. "You really want to do this before your album's released?" Sighing, you covered your face with your hands. "Baek, I don't know about this."

"Hey," Baekhyun gently pried your hands away, his fingers twining with yours. "Look at me, please." He mustered up a reassuring smile when you met his eye, worry written all over both of your faces. "I was talking to my manager, and we were thinking that it would be better to do it before the pre-orders open, instead of after the album release. If we announce it after, people might accuse me of trying to hide a "scandal" to save album sales. At least if we announce it before the album comes out, we'll know who the true Eris are, the ones that care enough to stick around and support us."

You hated to admit it, but his argument made sense. But something else was bothering you... "Baekhyun, when did you plan on telling me this? You talked about this with your manager before me?"

Baekhyun's face fell, guilt washing over his features. "I didn't want to worry you until I had a plan for sure. I just went to ask him and others at the company for advice, it was literally only a couple of days ago."

"A couple of days? God, Baek, I wish you had come to me first." You could feel the tears starting to well up, feeling betrayed and angry that Baekhyun hadn't confided in you first.

"Baby," Baekhyun pleaded. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt you, I... I wasn't trying to do things behind your back."

"We're dating, Baekhyun. We're supposed to talk about this together." You ripped your hands out of his, getting up and heading for the bathroom. "It's like I don't even get a choice."

Baekhyun got up, following after you. "That's not true. This is still our decision to make, together."

You rolled your eyes, flipping on the bathroom lights as you reached out to grab some tissues. "Really? What's your company going to say if I don't want to go public now?" You turned around, eyes red-rimmed when Baekhyun didn't respond. "They're not going to take no for an answer, are they?"

"I... I'll talk to them, if that's what you really want. I will," he added firmly when you stared at him skeptically. "At the end of the day, I care about what you think the most, not my fans, not the company." Baekhyun was desperate, heart breaking as you stood there, teary-eyed and furious with him. How long had it been since the two of you had fought?

You sniffled through your tears, wiping at your face with the clump of tissues in your hand. "I don't know, Baek, honestly. Huffing in frustration, you tossed your used tissues onto the bathroom counter. "I knew this would happen eventually, but... I guess I just hoped that we'd have more time."

Baekhyun came closer, wanting to hug you but also unsure of whether you'd be okay with it. You settled the matter for him, bridging the gap as soon as he took a step forward. Baekhyun sighed in relief when you wrapped your arms around him, his own instantly coming up to wind tightly around your waist.

"I'm scared, Baek — for both of us. People can be horrible when it comes to this stuff. Your fans love you so much, I don't want this to affect your career."

Baekhyun pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "We haven't done anything wrong. And if people have a problem with it, then they were never true fans in the first place. I just want to get this out in the open so that we don't have to hide all the time. I want to go on romantic dates with you in public, to hold your hand without worrying about who'll see."

"I want that too," you mumbled, the side of your face resting against Baekhyun's chest. The two of you stood in silence, unsure of where to go from here.

"You don't have to give me an answer right away," Baekhyun finally spoke up. "I'll stall with the company, if I have to." His thumbs traced patterns into your sides, calming you down with each brush of his fingers.

Straightening up, you shook your head. "No, you're right, it's safer to announce it sooner rather than later. But aren't you worried about it affecting sales and charting?"

Baekhyun shrugged, trying to hide his uneasiness. "If it happens, it happens." His expression softened as he grew serious. "You matter more to me than all of that."

"But your career — "

"Means nothing if I have to worry about hiding all the time." His lips turned downwards in a slight frown. "But are you sure you're okay with this? I don't want you to agree because you think you have to."

You reached up to move his bangs away, staring into those deep brown eyes. "The more I think about it, the more I realize that there never will be a ‘right’ way to announce that we're dating. People will find out eventually, we've always known this. But I'd rather we do it on our own terms, and if it means announcing it sooner than expected, then I support your decision."

Baekhyun dove in to kiss you, the sweetest you had ever tasted. It was an apology, pouring all of his emotions into one simple kiss.

But above all, it was a promise — a promise that no matter what, everything would be alright.

Later that week, Baekhyun posted the announcement on the official fan app, a decision that had both of you wracked with nerves. As expected, there was a group of so-called fans who took no caution in typing up paragraphs of malicious statements online. But there were also fans who typed up sincere notes of congratulations. Even his Twitter mentions were overwhelmingly positive, something that you were extremely glad for.

What neither of you had been expecting were the unbelievable amount of album sales, along with charting at the top of multiple online streaming services. Baekhyun had stared open-mouthed at his phone, refreshing the page as if it were a trick. You could hardly believe it yourself. Baekhyun, your Baekhyun, had managed to break his own record as South Korea's best-selling solo artist.

All with the support of genuine fans who had stuck by him.

"Congratulations, love." You kissed his cheek with a giggle, pushing his mouth closed as he continued to stare at his phone.

"This can't be real," he gaped, even as message after message flooded his screen: congratulations from fans, friends, family, co-workers.

"You deserve this, Baek. I'm so proud of you."

Baekhyun glanced up from his phone, gaze full of admiration. "Thank you, baby," he said sweetly, leaning down to rest his head against your shoulder. The following days were filled with schedules: radio show appearances, filming for TV shows that Baekhyun couldn't talk about yet, live broadcasts. It was difficult to watch the occasional hateful comment pop up online here and there, but you reminded yourself that the majority of reactions were supportive.

When Baekhyun had his first comeback performance, you had been so nervous — even more than Baekhyun! You couldn't make it to the live show, too busy with internship hours, but you had texted your boyfriend every so often. Besides, you got to watch the clips with him at home, praising his work as he blushed beside you.

A few days later, you finally got to go support him in person. You'd be stuck in class for pre-recording, but you would be able to make it for the last bit of the actual show.

You had secretly been texting Baekhyun's manager, figuring out when and how would be the best way for you to enter the broadcasting studio unnoticed. Fans still screamed for Baekhyun every time they saw him going from one schedule to another, but you were afraid of the reaction you'd get if they realized who you were. Your one saving grace was that they didn't even know what you looked like.

Since Baekhyun's manager was too recognizable, another staff member came outside when you parked in the lot, ready to escort you in. A hat pulled down low obscured most of your face, a mask covering the bottom half.

You held your breath as you followed the staff member past the throngs of fans, not making eye-contact with any of them. Although you could hear some of them talking amongst each other, they all seemed to be watching the music broadcast on their phones. If anyone noticed you, they didn’t say anything.

Once you were inside and out of sight, you pulled your mask down. God, your heart felt like it was about to leap up and out of your throat with the way it was beating.

The staff member led you through the hallways, passing by other artists' waiting rooms. You read each sign, starstruck by the amount of celebrities all in one area. People moved about, loud voices and raucous laughter drifting out from open doors. You could even hear the live broadcast being played from TVs as you passed by.

All of a sudden, the staff member was stopping before one room, the door slightly open.

Baekhyun's.

"Thank you," you told them, the staff member looking you over curiously before nodding and walking away.

You peered in, a grin pulling at your lips when you recognized a few voices. Inside, you spotted Baekhyun’s manager and what seemed like hair and makeup staff. But you also saw a few of the other EXO members: Sehun's lean form seated in a chair, Chanyeol and Jongin seated side-by-side on a couch, and wait — was that Jongdae?

Knocking on the door, you pushed it open slowly. "Hi," you greeted.

Sehun was the first to glance over, face brightening when he realized who it was. "Y/N! How'd you get in?" The room was a mess of overlapping voices, the members talking over one another. You were over the moon to realize the fourth member was Jongdae, thankfully looking healthy and happy. But one person was missing.

"Where's Baekhyun?" you asked.

"Ah, he's doing his interview," Jongdae replied. "His performance should be coming up soon."

You turned to look at the TV screen where sure enough, Baekhyun was being interviewed by the show hosts. You smiled unconsciously, appreciatively taking in his combed-back hair, the way that his white hoodie and red jacket combo only made him look even younger.

"Come sit down," Jongdae said, patting the open spot beside him. You gladly say down, both of you quickly catching each other up on anything new. Jongdae even showed you pictures of his newborn daughter, both of you fawning over the petite baby.

"She's adorable, Dae."

Jongdae smiled a kittenish grin, about to speak when Chanyeol let out a loud yell. The taller man had been playing a mobile game, and he slumped back against the couch as his phone dropped to his side.

"Use your words, Chanyeol," Jongin said with a chuckle.

"I can't beat the level on this game! I give up, my thumbs are about to fall off." He sat up, taking his hat off and putting it on backwards.

The door to the waiting room opened, a blur of red entering before you realized who it was. You and Baekhyun noticed each other at the same time, his droopy eyes growing bigger before he rushed over to you.

Baekhyun swept you up into a hug before remembering where you were, a pink flush spreading over his face. "Babe, how'd you get here? How long have you been here?"

"I came as soon as classes ended, I've been texting your manager all day." You ran a thumb over his eyes, tracing the shadows that were barely noticeable there. "Baek, you look tired."

"I've been up since dawn," he whined. "But I missed doing performances." He nodded towards the monitor with a grin. "You came just in time. They're going to play my performance after this once, but I have to head to the main stage for the voting results."

Baekhyun's gaze flickered over to a table close by, a knowing smile growing on his face. "I was going to vlog today, for Kyoongtube. The rest of the members are going to show up on stage if I win this week, do you want to come up too?" He seemed to sense your hesitation, hands closing over yours. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"I'm just worried about people seeing my face," you admitted. "Is it okay if I wait here until you get back?"

"Of course," Baekhyun replied quickly. "I'll be back as soon as I can, and then we can go get something to eat. Do you have anything due tomorrow?"

"Nothing that I can't get done tonight."

Baekhyun grinned proudly. "Such a smartie." He looked back up at the TV screen as his performance began to play. "That's my cue."

"Go, I'll be here." Both of you were self-conscious about PDA in this room full of members and staff, but Baekhyun still brought his lips to yours in a quick kiss. He laughed when he moved back, enjoying the shocked expression on your face.

"I love you," he mouthed, only for the two of you to hear.

"I love you too," you whispered back, face growing warmer by the second. Baekhyun squeezed your hands before letting go, already looking much more awake than when he had come in. Your presence had done more for him than any amount of Americanos could have, instantly waking him up with only a smile from you.

As you watched him leave, you were struck by the reality of it all. Here you were, supporting your boyfriend instead of quietly at home like you had been for the past few years. It hd taken time, and a huge leap of faith, but you hadn't done it alone.

Your focus had always been on the future, on predicting anything that could go wrong and taking the necessary steps to avoid them. But with Baekhyun, you were learning that sometimes, there wasn't a perfect way to avoid trouble. Sometimes, the answers weren't so clear cut, and you would have to take risks before you knew if they were worth it in the end. It was easy to give into fears of what lay ahead, to be overwhelmed by the unknown.

But you weren't alone. Baekhyun was your number one supporter, and you knew that you could rely on him no matter what happened. The two of you had already gone through so much, been there for each other countless times.

With Baekhyun, you would never be lost.

A/N: these requests keep getting longer, and I just need to stop LOL. I started off with the entire fic just being them at the broadcasting station for the comeback performance, but I didn’t feel like I could get that whole going public/being stressed by school and baekhyun’s star status without the whole background scene. Also! I know nothing about nursing, and I was honestly trying to figure out how much specific detail to put in without getting things wrong haha (my google searches were literally “how to become a nurse”, “nursing in korea”, “what is it like in a nursing program”) so if any of the very brief mentions of nursing school are inaccurate I am very sorry 😂😂😂

#exo #baekhyun #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

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