#sometimes. things that are simpler. are better. i need to remember that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trippinsorrows · 1 year ago

Text

looking through your eyes + twelve

authors note: ya'll remember the theme song from wizards of waverly place? 'everything is not what it seems'? yeah....remember that.

also, don't cuss me out for the ending, pleassseeee.

shoutout to the lovely @fearlesschimera for helping me with the italian translations! ❤️

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of dv, slight fighting? language, angst, fluff, sexy time scene aka mild smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k (unhinged)

So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights laid out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I, I had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Nina’s singing and subsequent light laughter is what tears away Solana’s focus from her artwork. Turning away from the paper on the dining room table, she angles her body in the chair, swinging her legs around as she watches her mom dance around the kitchen.

Nina’s voice is soft and melodic, a nice compliment to the singer whose name Solana can never remember despite this being one of her mom’s, if not thee, favorite song.

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs off the chair and runs up to hug her mom from the side.

Nina’s smile grows even more as she looks down at her only daughter. “Mija.”

Solana looks up, big eyes reflecting the same amount of love and adoration. She responds in her mom’s native language. A ‘secret’ little thing they do in times like this where her dad and brother are gone. Communicating in only a way they can understand.

“I wanna dance with you, mommy!”

Nina’s laughter is similar to her singing and speaking voice. And it’s infectious too, Solana joining in as Nina playfully spins her around. “Then dance with me, mija.”

Solana doesn’t need to be told twice. And maybe it’s less dancing and more moving around in a way that represents the happiness both mother and daughter feel in this moment. A brief little thing, something that happens in small to medium doses infrequently.

But when it does roll around, the both of them capture and hold onto it with all that they have.

When the song finishes, Nina turns down the music system as she redirects Solana to her art. “Can I see what you made?”

It’s a question she already knows the answer to. Solana nodding furiously as she takes her hand and guides her over to the table. Pointing, Solana explains, “look, mommy, it’s you and me!”

Nina gasps quietly. Even at seven, her daughter seems to have a gift with the arts. Reading, writing, and drawing. It hurts her sometimes that she can’t feed it more. That she’s limited to so little resources when it comes to helping Solana better her craft.

Nina lifts up Solana and sits down in the chair, her daughter on her lap. “It’s beautiful, mija. You’re so talented.”

The complement brightens Solana’s smile. “Just like you, mommy!” Solana lifts up the page, offering additional explanation. “See, that’s you and me at the Play—playa—”

Nina helps her out, “Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres?”

Solana nods. “That!”

A brief sweep of sadness overcomes her with memories of home. Memories of simpler, happier times. Her children still bring her a sense of fulfillment, but it’s often weighed down by the trauma of everything else. “Oh, I wish you could see the water, Sol. It’s so beautiful, so clear. It’s like heaven on earth.”

Solana looks up at her with all of her naivety and innocence. “We can go there one day, mommy, right? Just you and me?”

Her throat constricts at Solana’s question. Nina doesn’t have it in her to expose her young child to the ugly truth. “Of course, baby.” She brushes some of Solana’s hair back. “What about your brother?”

It’s not missed upon her how the mention of Wesley makes Solana’s smile dim. “He doesn’t like us….”

“Oh, baby…” Nina brings her hands to gently cradle Solana’s face. “He does. It’s just your father….your father tells him things about us that’s not true, but he does like us. He loves us just like I love you and him. I love you both so much.”

There’s not enough time in the world or ways that she can say it to truly exemplify just how much she means it. Even with Xavier doing everything he can to keep her away from her son, it doesn’t extinguish her love for him.

If anything, it just makes it stronger.

The sound of the garage doors lifting brings Nina back to her crushing reality, from her brief escapism. “He’s home.” Wide eyes dart to the kitchen as she realizes dinner is still about twenty minutes out from being ready. “Come, mija!” Nina jumps from the table and is quick to gather all of Solana’s artwork. She knows how this will play out, and she refuses to allow him to destroy Solana’s work the same way he often does her own. Reaching it to her, Nina hurriedly advises, “go to your bathroom, lock the door, and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” Trembling hands reach Solana the CD player and headphones. “Don’t take these off, you hear me?”

Solana’s smile is completely gone, her eyes watering, “he’s gonna hurt you, isn’t he?”

Nina swallows back her sob. “‘Don’t worry about me, Solana. Just do as I say, okay?” The sound of the door to the garage being ripped open alerts her to just how pressed for time they are. With all of the urgency, she pleads, “go!”

And despite everything in her wanting her to stay, to help, to do whatever she can, Solana does as she’s told.

Rushing up the stairs, Solana doesn’t stop until she’s in the bathroom. She locks the door and falls on the floor, back up against it, eyes watering even more.

She moves as fast as she can to put her headphones on, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t make out specific words, but it’s not needed to know and hear her father’s angry yelling followed by the pained wails of her mom. Glass breaking, items being thrown, Xavier’s screams of unbridled fury.

That’s when the dam breaks, tears spilling out of her eyes as she hits play to sound out the noise that never really goes away, never really stops haunting her, from making her chest feel so full and heavy.

This….this is the soundtrack to her life.

Solana isn’t unsure how long she sits there, working so hard to drown out the cries and screams of her best friend. Long enough to where she falls asleep only to be woken up by the same woman whose shouts of terror unintentionally and tragically lulled her to sleep.

The first thing Solana notices is the blood, followed by the puffy, blackened area under her right eye. Still, her mom is only focused on her, hand under her chin as she asks, “are you okay, mija?”

The tears return as Solana is face to face with the result of her father whose anger knows no bounds. “Mommy….”

“Don’t cry, baby.” Nina pulls Solana against her chest, braving the pain coursing through her body, particularly her ribs. “I’m—I’m okay.”

She hates lying to her daughter, feels almost sick with herself for gaslighting her. Solana is wise and perceptive. She knows that her mother is far from fine.

“What if—what if one day he hurts you real bad?”

Nina wasn’t expecting this question, wasn’t expecting her young daughter to ask something she herself has thought about from time to time.

What happens when Xavier finally takes his beatings too far?

Shoving away those dark thoughts, Nina shows Solana her inner forearm. “What is this, Sol?”

Solana wipes at her eyes and focuses on the beautifully, dark inked hummingbird tattoo on her mom’s skin. “A Hummingbird.”

“That’s right.” Nina wipes at her tears. “And what did I tell you about Hummingbirds? Hmm? What do they mean to our people?”

Solana sniffles and explains in a quiet voice. “They’re messengers from the spirits in heaven.”

“Exactly, so that means even when people leave us in one form, they’re still here in another. Still here even if they look a little different.” Nina’s voice cracks a bit as she promises, “I’m always with you, Solana. No matter what.”

Emotion building back up, Solana thrusts herself against Nina and cries into her chest. “Why can’t we leave, mommy?” She looks up, full of confusion and fear. “Then he can’t hurt you anymore.” Nina swallows. “We can run away where he won’t find us!”

Nina has a hard time holding back her tears. A dream. That would be a dream. If she could somehow escape this hell, take her children from this nightmare. But, it's just that, a dream. Because this is the life they live. This is her reality.

And there’s nothing that can change that.

Not without her putting her children’s lives at risk, because Xaver has made it abundantly clear in a variety of violent ways what will happen should she ever be “stupid” enough to think she could leave.

“Listen to me, Solana.” She wipes away the tears of her sweet child. “This…what your father does to me….it’s not love, and it’s not okay. I don’t want you to ever let a man treat you that way.” It feels almost bitter leaving her mouth, the amount of hypocrisy she feels at saying such a thing. If only she could practice what she preaches. “You are so special, and your heart is so big.” She places her hand over Solana’s chest. “This is your biggest gift, and you must always be careful who you share it with. Because yours is extra special.” She presses her lips against Solana’s forehead. “No matter what, never forget that life is a gift. You are a gift, Solana.” Her eyes shut, absorbing all the love and comfort. “My sol.”

________

Memories of much darker, sadder times have unintentionally become a motivating factor for Solana during training. She finds a sort of strength and fuel at reflecting on times from the past where she was bogged down with such fear.

Now though, it’s not as much fear as something else that’s unfamiliar but not unwarranted.

Anger.

It’s what helps and almost keeps her on her feet and in the game as she spars with Bayley, knife in the back of her shorts. It’s the first time she’s done as such, practiced training, practiced fighting, with that little thing that’s caused her so much pain throughout her life.

But now, she’s the one with the blade, with the ability to use it against someone else vs it being used against her.

It’s a different feeling, still uncomfortable, but also empowering in a strange sort of way.

Naomi is on the side, calling out various tips and reminders as Solana is able to successfully avoid certain hits and attacks from Bayley. She knows her friend is still holding back a bit, but not nearly as much as she did in the beginning.

Solana slightly appreciates that.

She feels….she feels good almost knowing that the progress she’s made isn’t because it’s been given to her. It’s been earned.

And unbeknownst to her, there’s an audience observing the sparring, an audience that consists of none other than the twins, Nia, and her husband who watch from the balcony above.

Roman had a meeting with Nia earlier in the day, hence his presence at the Warehouse, but staying after to silently observe Solana while she trains wasn’t necessarily on the agenda. It just happened.

Much to the chagrin of Wise Man who once again tries to remind Roman of what he already knows. He clears his throat, nerves big and evident, “sir, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to meet with—-”

“I’m aware.”

Paul swallows, closing his eyes as he sends up a prayer, asking for mercy. “Of course, sir, but—but, if we don’t leave now—”

“The meeting will start whenever I arrive, and I’ll get there when I get there.” Roman’s dark, irritated gaze falls on his chief advisor. “Is that understood?”

Paul straightens, more than familiar with that look. The look that can be followed up with an act of violence. “Y—yes, my Tribal Chief.”

With that shit straightened out, Roman easily falls back into the almost trance he’s in watching her.

Updates with her progress from Naomi and Bayley have been one thing, but it’s another to actually see her in action.

See the precision and speed in which she moves. She seems almost….in her element.

A far cry from the terrified mess she was when he first met her.

She’s coming into her own, and he loves to see that shit.

But, it’s when Bayley lands a particularly harsh blow against Solana, one that has her holding onto her face that Roman steps forward. A fresh wave of anger comes over him at the fact that Bayley could be so stupid to hit her so hard. She should fucking know better.

Who the fuck does she think she is to hit Solana?

He’s stopped, however, when Nia extends her arm across his big body, preventing him from checking on his wife.

He turns toward her, and if looks could kill, she’d be dead. “Move.”

She rolls her eyes, unbothered, motioning for him to continue watching. “Wait.”

Roman has no fucking intentions on waiting. Not when Solana could be hurt. He’s going to tear Bayley a new one for that. Why the fuck would she hit her so hard?

But, it’s as he’s watching and sees Bayley move toward Solana to check on her, that he realizes why Nia may have stopped him from acting too prematurely.

Because Solana is suddenly no longer doubled over. She’s bringing her knee up to Bayley, forcing the other woman to double over from some level of pain. But Solana doesn’t stop. She instead uses her leg to swipe Bayley off her feet, sending her into the ground.

Solana pounces on top of her, forcing her on her stomach. Straddling her, a fist full of her hair as she yanks her head back and brings the knife up to her neck.

Roman smiles.

Around him, the twins start to make a whole scene.

“Oh shit, okay Soso! I see you girl!”

“Alright, sis! That’s how you do it!”

Roman watches as she drops the knife almost immediately but not before she smiles, emotional almost, while being cheered on by Naomi who runs over and hugs her from the side. Solana laughs as she stands up, Bayley also jumping up, joining in the celebration.

“You know, it’s not very often that I'm wrong, but I gotta admit.” Roman turns to Nia who also looks a level of impressed. “I was wrong about Princess.” Nia chuckles. “Girl’s got some fight in her after all.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but that’s not out of disagreement.

Solana might be one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

And it has nothing to do with what he just witnessed.

Nia continues, announcing, “I think she’s ready to advance to the next level.”

Roman has his own definition of what that is, but he’s slightly curious about Nia’s take. “Which is?”

“She needs to start training with a man.”

He nods. They’re on the same page then. “I’ll talk with her about taking over—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Nia has always been outspoken, but there are some days he has to remind himself that she’s family. Because her smart ass mouth on anyone else would have them six feet under.

“She’s comfortable with you. It needs to be with someone she doesn’t know.”

And this time, Roman is the one shooting it down. “No.” To make Solana train and fight with a man, a stranger at that, seems like it would be triggering for her. In no way, shape, or form will he let that shit happen.

Nia, however, seems intent on just that. “Look, four months ago, I would agree with you, but look at what that girl just did. She grounded Bayley, Roman.” He looks away, running his hand over his face. “She’s come a long way, and to stop her now would only be a disservice. You’d be hindering her.” When he says nothing, mostly because he knows she has a point and he hates that, she continues. “And I’d say have Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum do it, but she seems to be comfortable with them too. For some reason.”

Jey finishes chewing his snack, most likely a creation by Solana, asking with all the obliviousness, “hey, what’d you say?”

Roman ignores him while Nia rolls her eyes. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Roman, but you’re not stupid.” He looks at her. “You know I’m right.”

He turns away, watching as Bayely and Naomi talk to Solana, clearly providing her additional instruction. He’s focused on Solana. She looks so….relaxed. So in her element. It’s such a far cry from the first time he met her.

She’s almost like an entirely different person. This causes him to sigh loudly.

Nia is correct. He’d be hindering the growth that’s got her to where she is today.

And that’s something he could never forgive himself for.

“I’ll talk to her.”

________

Bayley: If ya’ll could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Solana is taking a brief break to check her phone, mainly for any texts from Roman, when Bayley sends her message in the group chat that the three of them share.

Naomi: Ooooh, Bora Bora! Heard it’s beautiful!

Bayley: Nice! I’d say the Maldives.

Bayley: Solana?

It’s a good question that she doesn’t really have the answer for.

Solana: Idk. I’ve…I’ve never been out of the country, so it’s hard to say.

Naomi: Seriously? Never traveled at all?

Solana: No.

Bayley: So then there definitely has to be someplace!

It takes a minute for her to really think about how to respond, because her initial instinct is to double down on her first answer. But, it’s when her memory from earlier in the day returns to the forefront of her mind that she finds herself being more open than she anticipated.

Solana: Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres. It’s in Mexico. My mom always said the water was so beautiful.

And that they would visit someday.

That never happened though.

It never happened because she was murdered before she could make the dream come true.

An uncomfortable blanket of sadness comes over her, forcing Solana to put her phone down and resume her work, an effective distraction.

She grabs a set of books that need to be restocked and makes her way over to the appropriate aise when she overhears low sniffles.

Frowning, she places the books down on the cart and follows the sound of the sniffles that sound a lot like someone crying. It's when she moves to the next aisle that she finds the source.

A little girl. No more than 6 or 7. She’s sat up against a row of books, little legs pulled up to her chest as she cries into her knees.

Solana’s frown deepens as she slowly approaches the child, leaving enough distance to not startle her. Solana knows better than most the detriment of being taken off guard when already upset.

“Hi there.” Her head snaps up, and right away Solana is met with striking blue eyes that are blurred with tears and an emotion Solana knows all too well.

Fear.

“It’s okay,” she comforts, intentional about keeping her distance and voice soft. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The little girl who, in a strange way, reminds her a lot of herself with her light complexion and russ brown hair that’s a combination of curl patterns, stammers with a response. “My—my mommy and daddy said I can’t talk to strangers.”

Solana smiles warmly. “Your mommy and daddy are very smart.” Staying where she is, Solana slides down onto the floor. She brings her legs to her side and offers her name. “My name is Solana. I work here in the library.” Wanting to earn some level of trust, Solana informs, “I really like to read.”

Her eyes light up a bit. “You do?”

She nods, keeping her smile. “My mom used to read with me all the time. Does your mommy ever read with you?”

The little girl nods and wipes at her eyes. “Yes. Daddy does too sometimes, but he works a lot.”

Solana’s smile dims a bit. She can both relate and not relate. Her father was never really home, and she preferred it that way. But when he was….it was hell.

Using the opening, Solana asks softly, “where is your mommy?”

She hesitates, and her bottom lip trembles a bit, but she ends up explaining her presence. “I was walking outside with mommy, and I saw a butterfly, and—and I wanted to catch it, but then I got lost.” She starts to cry as Solana puts the pieces together, realizing she ran off, got lost, and maybe ventured into the library to ask for help. Or to cry in a safe space.

Solana gets that too.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll help you find your mommy, okay?”

The offer seems to settle her emotions a bit. Solana watches as she wipes her eyes and almost asks in a hopeful tone. “R–really?”

Solana smiles again and nods. “Of course.” She stands up, not moving from her spot but offering her hand. “You want to come with me?”

The little girl nods and stands up, slowly walking up to Solana and taking her hand. She looks up, sharing in a slightly more confident tone, “my name is Emma.”

“That’s a very pretty name.” Solana gently squeezes her hand. “Now let’s go find your mommy.”

Solana notes how Emma squeezes her hand back. It warms her heart.

She guides Emma toward the steps, careful to not walk too fast, mindful of the fact that Emma is still, wisely, very cautious of the fact that Solana is still a stranger.

Solo meets Solana at the bottom of the steps, his unkind gaze falling on Emma who hides herself behind Solana.

Looking down, she advises her, “it’s okay, sweetie.”

Solo rolls his eyes, gesturing with his chin. “Who is this?”

Solana looks back at him, answering while intentionally not providing a name. Emma provided Solana her name, not Solo. “She got separated from her mother. I’m gonna help her find her.”

He scoffs. “Ain’t that what the police is for?”

Frowning, Solana finds herself defending her actions. “She’s already scared.”

He cuts his eyes, voice sharp as she reminds her of his role. “My job is to protect and watch you. Not some random badass kid—”

“D–don’t call her that.” Anger. Solana finds herself growing angry with Solo’s disposition. A rare emotion for her. But, she can’t stop thinking about the scared little girl clinging onto her leg, finding some form of comfort in her. She can’t stop thinking about how she used to be that little girl. How she used to cling onto her mother for comfort.

Until she couldn’t.

“I’ll help her by myself. I—” Solana swallows. “I don’t need your help.”

The library is in neutral territory. She should be fine to walk up and down the street to help an innocent child without the protection of someone Solana is realizing really doesn’t want to be there in the first place.

Gently encouraging Emma to follow her, Solana leads the little girl out the double doors of the library and onto the busy sidewalk.

Solo never comes after her.

And in a weird, sort of unfamiliar twist that she doesn’t really understand, Solana prefers it that way.

She prefers Solo not toggling along, his negative energy not interfering and exacerbating Emma’s fear.

Leaning down, Solana asks, still with that gentle smile, “do you remember which way you came from?”

Emma frowns again, shaking her head. “N–no.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just look left and right.” Straightening up, Solana decides to go to the left first, knowing that there’s a kids boutique a few doors down. It seems like a good place to start. And it’s while walking, Emma suddenly asks a question that literally makes Solana feel like she’s gotten the wind knocked out of her.

“Are you a mommy?”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why it takes a second for her to answer such a basic question. The question, in terms of complexity, is simple and can be answered with a single word. But everything else with it is…..not easy. Because she has no idea why her tone suddenly shifts to something sad as she finally replies.

“No.” And before she can think about what’s leaving her mouth, before she can even process what she’s saying, Solana adds, “not yet.”

It takes a lot for Solana to not backtrack, to try to offer some explanation that probably wouldn’t make any sense to such a young child why she was taking her answer back. But beyond that, there’s a part of Solana that doesn’t want to take it back.

She doesn’t want to take it back because….because maybe it’s the truth.

Emma looks up with a small smile, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re gonna be a nice mommy.”

Her chest constricts, and Solana feels her eyes watering from an emotion she can’t pinpoint.

Emotional smile and all, she manages to keep the tears at bay. “Thank—”

“Emma!”

Solana and Emma snap their heads and attention to the source of the voice, as Emma drops Solana’s hand.

“Mommy!”

Solana jogs behind Emma who makes a mad dash in the direction of the woman who called her name. Solana stops when a large man moves in between her and Emma and the woman.

Emma’s little voice calls out at the same time Solana backs away, a bit of anxiety growing in her stomach as she thinks about the knife in the back pocket of her jeans. “No, she’s my friend!”

“Bron, back off.” The woman speaks, and almost instantly, the large man with cold eyes that remind her of Solo moves away. The view and path is cleared again as Solana sees Emma being held by a woman who could never deny the child in her arms belongs to her. Emma is her twin outside of the blue eyes Solana would guess she got from her father.

“Mommy, this is Solana.” Emma introduces, pointing and waving. “She helped me find you!”

The woman, a few inches taller than Solana, with hazel eyes and almost perfect facial features, smiles. Again, Solana sees nothing but Emma. “Thank you so much—”

The large man who Solana hasn’t forgotten about and vice versa chimes in. “Brandi—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bron.” She cradles Emma closer to her chest, as Solanaa clears her throat.

“Of course.” She points behind her. “I—umm—I work at the library. I—I do a kids reading club on Mondays, if—if Emma would like to join.”

Emma’s eyes light up at that as she’s pulling on her mom’s sleeve. “Mommy, can I go?”

The woman, Brandi, as Solana heard the large, unkind man refer to her frowns a bit. “After today, I’ll be lucky if your dad lets you or me leave just to check the mail, let alone go into town again.” Still, she turns to Solana, “but thank you for the information. She loves books, so I’d know she’d love to attend.”

And it’s then that Emma throws out with all the innocence of a child. “Solana’s gonna be a mommy too! Just like you!”

Her breath catches. Solana once again has to fight back the tears that don’t make sense as well as the sadness that doesn’t make even more sense. “Some…someday.”

Brandi offers a smile that’s reassuring. Like she understands what doesn’t need to be directly stated. “Well, I wish you all the luck.” She tickles Emma’s stomach and jokes, “they’re a handful.”

And for a second, just the briefest of a second, solana visualizes just that. Visualizes herself holding a child, a child that would have her smile. Roman’s eyes. His strong will. Her innocence.

A perfect representation of them both.

But, it’s quickly pushed away, stomped on by logic.

That…..that’s not even something she should allow herself to consider right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

Even if that very visual is exactly why the marriage was arranged in the first place.

She clears her throat. Despite being outside, Solana all of a sudden feels almost closed in. “I—I should get back to work.”

Brandi nods. “Of course.” She doesn’t even have to direct Emma to say goodbye, as the little girl with a sweet smile full of innocence is already on it.

“Bye, Solana!” She then adds on with all of the hope. “I hope I see you again!”

Solana hopes the same too.

After parting, Solana noticing the almost menacing glare that ‘Bron’ man sends her way, she walks back to the library in complete silence, feeling so conflicted and torn by emotions that usually don’t work in her favor in general.

But, it’s when she’s about to head up the steps, Solo appears again wearing an almost smug expression, that she stops in her tracks at his comment. “You done playing mother Teresa?”

She doesn’t know where it comes from. Doesn’t know how she’s even able to allow it to leave the safety of her mouth, the confines of her thoughts vs being expressed. But, that’s exactly what happens.

Solana turns to him and doesn’t stutter as she asserts, “you don’t get to talk to me like that.” Swallowing and with an uncharacteristically amount of confidence, she warns almost, “Roman wouldn’t let you talk to me like that.”

And it seems like that not so little reminder of who her husband is triggers something for him. Solo clears his throat, muttering almost, “my apologies.” He asks, a perfect combination of forced concern and obligation, “whose kid?”

She starts not to answer, but being a form of assertive and dismissive feels like too much in one day. “I don’t know. Some man with her called her Brandi?”

At that, his attention seems almost intensified. He’s quiet for a moment. “Brandi?”

Confused at his subtle but noticeable change in demeanor, Solana nods. “Yeah. I think she called the man Bron?”

Solo looks away, like there’s something about these two pieces of information that are important. So she asks, “why?”

Solo’s gaze is back on her, and like a snap of a finger, the intensity in his expression melts into something cavalier. “Nothing.”

Solana is quiet. And suspicious. Something in the pit of her stomach tells her there’s something he’s not telling her, something he’s keeping to himself.

But she doesn’t push it.

She’s got other things on her mind.

Other things she shouldn’t have on her mind.

But, she does. She really, really does.

________

Later that evening, the strange, conflicting emotions from her encounter with Emma and her mother, Brandi, are still plaguing Solana. She’s grateful that Roman has to take his dinner in his office due to work, because it at least gives her space to process such big emotions without him picking up on anything being wrong.

He seems to be very good at that.

In preparation for winding down for the evening, she’s at the sink, washing the dishes when Roman comes up behind her. It’s only a brief second of tension that’s easily settled by his arms around her, his mouth on her neck.

She smiles, noticing the increasing amount of comfort and want she’s experiencing at him touching her.

It’s getting to the point where she almost craves his touch.

It’s…comforting.

Roman makes a sound, lips moving up to kiss her cheek. “Meet me at the pool in an hour.”

She frowns, turning toward him. “What?”

He brings hand to her mouth, thumb gliding over her bottom lip. “You said you wanted to get in, right?”

“I—” And she can’t protest, can’t find a way to politely disagree. Because she did say that. And he’s clearly holding her to it. “Yes.”

His hand slides down to cup her ass, Solana gasping quietly as he smirks. “Then let’s do it.” Her eyes shut, and she bites down on her bottom lip as he whispers in her ear, “I want to see that bathing suit of yours.”

Another gasp as he squeezes her ass. “Roman.”

He says nothing else, walking away. Solana takes a second to reflect on the interaction, sits on the fact that he was able to touch her and she didn’t tense up. Didn’t freeze up. She almost…she almost liked it.

But what she doesn’t like is the fact that she now has to apparently meet this man in the pool wearing that bathing suit that nobody but her made him aware of. He would have never known she even owned it she hadn’t opened her mouth in a poor way to distract him.

And now he wants to see her in it.

And now the anxiety is growing again.

Because while she’s grown more comfortable with his touching her, she’s been almost entirely clothed during those times. Even with the more revealing outfits. This one will definitely take the cake. She’s not sure her lingerie from their wedding night was as showy as this bikini.

She takes her time finishing up the dishes and is at least grateful to see he’s nowhere near their room or bathroom as she sneaks in and locks the door to put it on.

Solana must mess around with the suit at least ten different times. Pulling. Tugging. Tightening. It doesn’t make a difference because the swell of her chest and backside prove too much. There’s not much to be hidden, to be camouflaged, to be covered up. And that’s always been her preference. Never in her life has she owned or even worn a two piece suit. And yet, here she is about to step out in one that leaves little to the imagination in front of one of the most attractive men she’s ever laid eyes on.

A man that gives her butterflies with just one look of his dark, beautiful eyes.

She tries telling herself that it’s just Roman. That she shouldn’t overthink it so much. That he’s made his attraction to her clear, time and time again. But, it’s hard to factor those things in when he’s never seen this much of her, so much skin, so much scarred skin. Skin with stretch marks and cellulite. Scars from the stabbing. The pudge of her belly.

It’s all so…revealing. Physically and emotionally.

It’s almost to the point where she has more anxiety about him seeing this much of her body than actually getting in the water, which was and should be the main source of her abundance of nerves.

But, it’s not. It’s not because even with all of her progress, it’s so hard to not compare herself to other women he’s been with. Women like Samantha who look nothing like her, who must look better than her.

That brings on a deeper level of insecurity.

Will he compare her body to Samantha’s? How can he not?

They’re night and day. One is preferred. One is shunned.

And Solana has never been preferred.

Eyes watering, she reaches for the large t-shirt and slides it over her body, comforted by not being faced with so many flaws. Deterred entirely, she starts to think of an explanation she can give Roman as to why she can’t get in the pool tonight.

Or any other night.

But when she steps out of the bathroom, that plan is thrown out the window because Roman is sitting on the edge of the bed.

Shirtless.

Wearing only swim trunks.

She’s momentarily focused on him. Focused on every rippling muscle of his body that’s damn near perfect. So opposite of her own.

Realizing she’s staring, she shakes her head, “I—”

“It’s been an hour.” Roman drags his eyes over her, and it’s like she knows what he’s going to say before it leaves his mouth. “You’re not dressed.”

Pushing back some of her hair, Solana is very much focused on the piece of abstract art on the wall opposite his bed. “I was thinking—”

“No.”

That she wasn’t expecting. Such a….blunt rejection. Eyes back on him, she frowns. “What?”

“You’re not backing out.” Solana swallows. He sounds so definitive. “I won’t make you get completely in the water, because I understand why that’s difficult for you.” She says nothing, at least grateful for his understanding in that area. “But you can at least sit on the edge. Work your way up to it.” An ironic choice of wording considering the other thing they’re working their way up to. He stands from the bed, and as much as Solana wants to look away, she can’t. She’s focused on him. All 6’3 of him. So intimidating. But not to her. So strong. But he’s never used his strength against her. So attractive. The same way he feels about her.

“Without the shirt.”

Her stomach drops, anxiety brewing again. “Roman….”

He’s suddenly in front of her, his hands reaching to pull her against him. “That’s not your trauma. It’s your insecurity, and I’m not accepting that shit because it’s not fucking fair for you to be as beautiful as you are and not see or feel it.”

She swallows as he reaches for the hem of her shirt. “Off.” It’s a statement, but there’s a questioning nature to it. Like regardless of how he feels, he’s still giving her the space to say no.

To have that autonomy.

It’s appreciated.

It’s also why despite her anxiety, with her eyes closed, she relents. “O–off.”

Roman doesn’t seem to waste any time pulling her shirt up and over her head. And as soon as she feels the chilly air of his room on her body, the realization that she’s more exposed in front of him than she’s ever been before, she’s crossing her arms over her chest.

Hiding.

Embarrassed.

“No.” And his hands are on her forearms, pushing down, gently but with purpose. “No hiding.” She keeps her eyes closed as he forces her arms down at her side. “Solana, look at me.” And she wants to, she actually wants to, but it’s hard, because all she can imagine is his disgust, his disinterest. “Look at me.”

His tone is somehow forceful but gentle, in a way only he can do. In a way that never makes her feel scared, but always safe.

So she obliges.

Roman’s gaze is on her, intentful and burning. His jaw is clenched. “It pisses me the fuck off that you’ve been made to feel anything less than fucking gorgeous.” And she watches as he travels his beautiful eyes over her body. Slowly. With a level of desire that she, even with all of her insecurities, can’t deny. Men like Roman don’t look at women like that unless they want them in that way. “The things I want to do to you….”

And once again, he’s affirming and practically repeating everything he’s assured her of several times now.

He wants her.

“I’m going to make you believe it.” Wetting her lips, she watches Roman take her hand in his. “Come here.”

He walks them over to the opposite side of his room where the black, full body mirror rests against the wall. His hands are on her hips, positioning her so that she’s standing directly in front of him, her back pressed into his chest.

“Keep your eyes open.” His voice is commanding but still calm enough where it doesn’t unnerve her. “Spread your legs.” Solana is certain Roman can feel the way her body instantly tenses, because he’s kissing the shell of her ear, reassuring her. “Relax, baby. I won’t touch you there until you’re ready. Just trust me.”

And she does.

Maybe more than she’s ever trusted anyone.

It’s why she moves her legs apart so that her thick thighs are no longer rubbing against each other.

Again, he’s comforting her, “trust me…” Solana is briefly confused as to why he’s repeating himself when his hand is on her backside, squeezing in a way that makes her head fall back against his chest. “I love your ass.” She makes a sound, almost too low to hear when he moves his hands to her chest, big, strong hands cupping her breast. “But, I especially fucking love these.”

She moves her much smaller hands over his. For what reason, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she nearly groans when his thumb flicks over her hardened areolas through the fabric of her swimsuit.

“Roman….” Despite his clear directive, it’s hard to keep her eyes open when there’s so much coursing through her body.

“You know why I said your name when I was with her?” Not really, but also yes. It’s difficult for Solana to think straight with him touching her like this. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settling at the bottom of her belly.

His mouth is back on her, kissing her jawline as he continues to caress her breast, alternating between light massaging and caressing her nipples. “Because I was imagining she was you. Because it’s you I want to be inside.”

Solana’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between open and closed, the soles of her feet almost numb as standing suddenly feels much more difficult than it should be. There’s an unfamiliar ache in between her legs that has her thighs pressing back against each other.

Her body is on fire, and despite this intimate touching, she has no desire to push him away. Doen’t feel shackled and stuck in a way that’s reminiscent of her trauma. She wants his touch on her.

His deep, alluring voice is in her ear, watching every single one of her erotic reactions through the mirror. “There’s not a single part of you that I don’t want to touch….” Her breathing is labored and heavy almost as he moves his hand and trails his finger down the valley of her breast. “To feel…..” Her eyes are fluttering as his hand moves down to her stomach, hers shooting to rest on top of his, an unconscious effort to keep him from feeling the part of her that she’s always felt

self-conscious about. Only for her to cry out when he lightly squeezes her stomach, rolls and all. “To taste….”

It should make her mortified, for him to be grabbing so freely a part of her that she used to cry over from embarrassment. But, it doesn’t. She’s simply trying to remain strong enough to remain on her own two feet.

Her body is on fire, and there’s this pressure building in her core. Intense but oh so delicious. A brand new sensation.

Whimpering, she moves her hand to his wrist. “Roman, I—”

“I know,” he coaxes, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “That’s what I want, baby.” He moves his mouth over to her clavicle, tongue wetting her burning skin. “Want you to feel good….”

Good is an understatement. She feels completely overwhelmed in a way she didn’t think possible.

And it only intensifies when his fingers create circles across her lower belly. Tears are pooling in her eyes, the throbbing in her belly and most intimate part increasing with every touch and every word that leaves his mouth.

Solana also recognizes the wetness pooling between her legs. Something else she’s never experienced. Not like this. She’s been able to become aroused before, but never to this extent.

Not to this intensity.

The pressure feels too much, too heavy, but she can’t seem to find the words to express as such while Roman continues to talk her through it.

“The next time you touch yourself, I want you to think of me.” His lips are ghosting the shell of her ear, his fingers continuing to trickle across the lower skin of her belly. “My mouth on you. Me inside of you.”

She gasps, loud enough for it to almost echo throughout the room and almost bounce off the walls. “Oh my god….”

She feels just about ready to explode when his other hand has moved to her inner thighs, long fingers dancing across her skin and prying her thighs apart. She’s almost certain her essence has made her way past her bottoms and coats the tips of his fingers. “I’m gonna be your first.” His words puncture her resolve, but it’s the latter statement that completely destroys it. “And your last.”

Solana cries out, stomach in waves as she squeezes his wrist, intense pleasure nearly knocking her off her feet if not for his strong arms around her. Solana feels partially discombobulated as he whispers things in her ear that she’s far too overwhelmed to make out.

She’s not sure how long she’s standing there, doesn’t know how long he’s holding her, helping her land back down to earth. She just knows there’s a pulsing between her legs that she’s never had before. An aftermath almost.

The aftermath at what had to have been a climax.

It takes a few minutes for her to finally be able to formulate words. She looks up at him, trying to not think too much of the way he circled his finger around the spillage between her thighs. It’s enough to make her womanhood start to pulse again. “how did—-I’ve never—”

Roman looks down at her, eyes almost narrowed with pure curiosity as she asks, “have you never had an orgasm before?”

Cheeks still flamed from what just occurred but also slight embarrassment at her answer, she explains, “I’ve—I’ve tried before, but I just—I couldn’t.”

He actually looks surprised but simply brings his hand to her chin, kissing her softly. “Well, it damn sure won’t be your last.” He gently bites down on her bottom lip before backing away. “Be outside in 10.”

It takes a second for her to realize what he’s talking about. She’d completely forgotten what even kicked off all of that.

Watching him leave with her t-shirt, it’s only when he closes the door and she’s alone that something he said finally settles in.

Something that somehow gives her a sense of pleasure more enjoyable than even his talented touch.

“I’m gonna be your first.”

Just thinking of it brings tears to her eyes. For an entirely different reason. For so long, she felt so broken and devastated at having her virginity so brutally ripped away. To have it stolen from her before she could even understand what sex was.

And no, she can never truly get it back.

But this….Roman can give her. That first time of actually having a choice.

And that means more to her than he could ever know.

She cares for him more than she’s certain he knows.

And truth be told, Solana is starting to wonder if care is still a strong enough word to describe what she feels for a certain Roman Reigns.

________

After cleaning herself and gathering her bearings, Solana finds Roman out back already in the pool swimming laps as Dulce sits on the side just watching him, her tail wagging. She always seems so excited around him.

Taking advantage of him being underwater and not aware of her presence, Solana moves quickly over to the steps, faltering for a bit before stepping in just enough to where the water brushes against her knees. That’s when the anxiety starts. Her stomach begins knotting.

It’s also when Roman comes up from under, and she’s briefly distracted by just how good he looks while quite literally doing nothing out of the ordinary. She watches him swim over to her, one hand pushing back some of hair, the other reaching for her.

She hesitates, and he sees it, gently reminding.

“I’ve got you….”

Solana just looks at him. He’s yet to not come through on that promise made time and time again. An oath almost, in every single situation where he’s asserted it.

It’s why she finds herself accepting his hand as she descends further into the water. And just as she recognizes her anxiety heightening along with the water that’s brushing against her chest, Roman tugs her against him.

Gasping, her hands naturally move onto his shoulders, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist.

“Roman….” She’s looking from side to side as he moves them farther away from the steps. “I—”

“Can you swim?” His question both makes sense and serves as a brief distraction.

“Y–yes, but I haven’t done it in years.” He’s still moving them though, and that still makes her nervous as more distance is created between her and a way to escape without actually getting under the water. “Roman, I—I can’t—”

“I know.” His assurance is soft, gentle almost. “I’m not gonna let you fall, Solana.”

And she swallows, because there’s an undertone to his statement. Like there’s another meaning that maybe one or both of them isn’t entirely ready to come to terms with.

It’s when they stop moving, she realizes that he wasn’t just aimlessly moving around. He wanted to bring them over to the stool within the pool that he sits on. It’s only then she really becomes cognizant of the fact that she’s straddling him as well as just how close her body is against his.

Not that he seems to mind.

His gaze on her is both distracting and tantalizing. She wants him to never look at her with such desire at the same time she wants him to never look away.

It’s….a strange experience.

Needing there to be some type of conversation, she goes with the first thing that comes to mind. “How….how was your day?”

Roman chuckles. “The same as most.�� Solana makes an active effort to ignore how his hands remain planted on her ass, giving just the slightest pressure that makes her softly scratch at his taut skin. “How was yours?”

Eventful. She starts to tell him about Emma and Brandi, but that would somehow lead into a conversation about Solo and his odd behavior recently. And Roman already deals with enough. She doesn’t want to add onto his plate.

She can handle that on her own.

It’s why she decides to share the most exciting news, a smile growing on her face. “I pinned Bayley today during my training.”

“Did you?” Something tells her that he already knew about this, that he was made aware of this occurrence prior to this moment. Regardless, she’s thankful for him trying to fake surprise. For him trying to give her the satisfaction of being the first to tell him. “Damn. They told me you’ve gotten good. That you’re fast.”

She nods, smile dimming a bit. “I do feel a little bad about how I did it though.”

“Don’t.” He’s quick to dismiss her concerns. “Bayley’s taken much worse in the ring.” After seeing Bayley fight on Night of Champions, she doesn’t doubt that one bit. “There’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

Her anxiety returns at his ending statement. “O–okay.”

Roman seems to take a minute before explaining, “I think we need to expand your training.” Her confusion is evident and expected as he clarifies with all the preparation in the world for a less than pleased response. “You need to start training with a man.”

Deep down, she already knows his answer before she asks. But, she has to do it anyway. “Like with you?” Open to it, she even suggests, “or the twins?”

Safe people.

As expected, he shakes his head. “No. It needs to be someone you’re not familiar with. Not like you are with me or them.” She looks away, eyes focused on the spotlight on the opposite end of the pool. “It’s only to help you. You can fight now, that’s good. But, you need to learn how to fight someone you don’t feel comfortable with, because that’s the reality of our world.” He elaborates, seemingly pulling her closer to him. “I’m never going to let you be in a position where you have to defend yourself like that against a man, but it’s good for you to know regardless.”

That helps a bit. She believes him. Believes that he’ll never let her be in that space ever again.

But, there’s a ‘what if’ thought that she can’t push away. Because nothing in life is promised or final. Anything and nothing can happen. She could very well find herself one day on the opposite end of her brother, and the thought of him having that hold and power over her makes her sick.

Should that day ever roll around again, she wants it to be different. She wants to be different.

She wants to be able to fight back.

“I’ll do it.” She agrees in a quiet tone and goes on to briefly explain her answer. “I think—I think I need to do it for me.”

Roman simply nods and acknowledges her acceptance with a single word. “Okay.”

Solana is grateful he doesn’t follow up with additional questions. She doesn’t really want to talk about that, doesn’t want to participate in conversations that bring up old, painful memories. “Can I at least meet them before we start training?”

“Of course.” That provides another layer of relief. “Are you still alright with the Gala?”

And this time, she nods. A few days away, she’s already figured out her look for the evening, courtesy of Bayley and Naomi. Biting on her bottom lip, she finds her fingers moving across his chest. “I—I got my dress.” He makes a sound followed up with his mouth moving to her neck. “I think—I think you’ll like it.”

She struggles to keep her eyes open when he starts kissing on her wet skin. “I like everything you wear.” She smiles. “You thought about what you want for your birthday?”

Once again, it’s hard to talk with him touching her like this. “No, cause I don’t–”

He chuckles against her. “Still on that shit, I see.” And before she can push him on that, he informs with all of the textbook coyness, “it’s alright, I’ve got it figured out.”

That makes her push lightly on his chest, to force his gaze on her. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” His words are intentionally vague and don’t manage to answer her question. It’s expected, not entirely out of character for him, but still a bit irritating.

She sighs. The last thing she wants is for this man to go out of his way for her more than he already has. “Roman…

“Solana, I’ve got you in my arms. Half naked.” His eyes take on a dark, lustful glint as he focuses on her mouth. “I really don’t feel like talking, baby….”

He brings his lips back onto hers, but it’s hard to get too into the kiss when her mind is so focused on one little word.

Baby….

A nickname he seems to use with her more and more, the increasing usage doing nothing for the butterflies every time he calls her as such. But this time, this time the butterflies are for something more, something different.

Something she’s not even sure she should be telling him right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

It doesn’t stop her from saying his name, her tone serious enough to alert him that she has something to say.

“Roman….” He lifts his head, gaze focused on her, and Solana finds herself momentarily captivated by him. He’s so handsome. So attractive. The embodiment of strength. In so many different ways. Licking her lips, it falls out almost accidentally but also with all of the determination. “I’m going to give you an heir.”

His expression falters only for a second. He’s so good at maintaining composure at all times that it takes her off guard. His voice is lowered. “Solana, I told you, I’ll handle—”

“I know, but—but, it’s not because of that.” And maybe a part of it is, maybe she feels guilty that she’s failing to do the one thing he agreed to marry her for. Maybe it’s out of her trauma. Maybe it’s a sense of obligation. Whatever the potential contributors, there’s no denying the largest chunk comes from a place of pure individualistic want. “I never thought that I could, but….but I can.” This part she knows to be true. Solana never envisioned a life for herself where she could withstand the touch of a man, the desire to have a man touch her. The ability to be intimate. But Roman has changed all that. “I know I can, so I will.” When he says nothing, she adds on, starting to feel a bit unsure of herself. “And we don’t have to now, per se, but….we will. I—I want to do that for you.”

For us.

He still says nothing, but Solana can see there’s a million thoughts floating through her head. She’s prepared for him to push back, to maybe chastise her or scold her for whatever reason. In her experience, men have never really needed solid reasons to be upset with her.

He does none of that though.

Instead, she seems something gleam in his brown eyes, something she can’t name but feels is eerily similar to what she feels whenever she looks at him.

“Non sei quello che mi aspettavo.” Solana has no idea what he’s saying, but with the way he holds her, the way he hikes her higher onto his waist so she’s almost looking down at him, wet hands moving to his face, she doesn’t really care. Doesn’t really need to know. “Ma credo che tu sia esattamente quello di cui ho bisogno…."

—----------

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Xavier smiles at the hint of nervousness in his son’s voice. Any other time, he’d scold him for weakness. But when plotting against the Bloodline, especially Roman Reigns, one can never be too careful.

“Not necessarily, but I do know your sister. She’s weak. Blinded by love.” Just saying the word leaves a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Your mother fed her that shit, and now she holds onto it. It’s how I know she won’t let him do anything.”

Wes’s dark gaze rakes over his father’s still recovering state. “And yet he still put us both in the hospital.”

Xavier glares, voice icy. He hates being reminded of failure. “Watch it, son.”

We looks away, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his body. “I just think there is another way—”

“Have you heard from your sister? Found a way to get into contact with her without going through Reins?” Xavier already knows the answer but wants his son to recognize the stupidity of his stance. “This is the only way, and it’ll work. Trust me.”

Wes is still quiet, but Xavier is unbothered. He’s instead focused on his phone that vibrates three times, his lock screen showing a set of messages from an unknown number. And it’s in reading the messages that his day goes from good to so much fucking better.

“Well, I’ll be damned….”

Wes notices the change in his father’s mood and gestures with his chin. “Who is it?”

“Not sure.” He reaches the phone to his son. “But, we’re definitely going to find out.”

And it’s when reading the text that Wes also smiles, the same wicked scheming oscillating in his father’s head traveling over to him.

“Got you now, you little bitch….” Wes reads over the words once more, basking in the relief and potential this new development will provide.

Unknown: I believe we may have a mutual problem that needs to be….taken care of.

Unknown: Your daughter. Solana.

Unknown: Let’s meet.

—----------

translation: “you’re not what i expected, but i think you’re exactly what i need.”

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook #black writers

317 notes · View notes

heavensenther · 3 months ago

Text

In Every Life

A Loki x Reader AU one shot

Word count: 2.5k

You were only children when you met. It was the night of the Aurora's Awakening, when the sky above Asgard was restless with falling stars. The ballroom grew to be too much, full of nobles who feigned interest in each other and who spoke too loudly about things they had no knowledge of. Loki slipped out just before dessert.

The balcony was always quiet, the kind of quiet he needed. He sat on the ledge with his feet dangling off the edge, his arms wrapped loosely around his knees, the chirping of crickets far more comforting than the constant hum of small talk inside the stuffy palace. The sound of soft footsteps interrupted his peaceful thinking.

"Do you always hide during parties?" A voice asked behind him. He didn't respond right away. The voice was young—around his age—but it had a certain softness to it. Not mocking, just curious. And maybe a little bored.

"Do you always interrupt people who are trying to find peace and quiet?" he replied, his tone sharp enough to establish his annoyance but not thoroughly insult. The footsteps grew closer. "Only when I know they don't really want to be alone."

That made him turn. You didn't look Asgardian. Not exactly. Your dress was simpler, your stance more relaxed. He watched as your eyes gazed up at the stars instead of admiring his crown.

"I've never seen you around here before," he said. "My family doesn't usually attend the royal balls," you said. "I snuck out."

That surprised him. Most children of the court barely dared to speak without permission, let alone run off unattended. But you said it like it meant nothing, like the rules couldn't touch you. You sat beside him without asking.

"It's not what I thought it was gonna be like," you said, kicking your feet gently in the air. "There's too many rules." He almost smiled.

You watched the sky with him, asking questions, making up stories. He pointed out the constellations, but you gave them better names. You said the stars made you feel something you couldn't quite describe.

When you asked him if they ever made him feel small, he said, "No. They make me feel infinite." You didn't laugh at that. You just nodded, like maybe you felt the same.

Sleep crept in around the edges, but you stayed beside him until your head began to dip. And Loki—young and not yet afraid of what it meant to care for someone—told you:

"If you leave, I'll never forget you."

The next morning, you were gone.

You were older when he saw you again—sharper around the edges, but still the same girl with a heart made of starlight.

He had been sparring with Fandral when a blade cut too deep. Frigga sent him to the healing ward, muttering about reckless sons and bruised egos. That's where he found you.

"You're taller," you said with a smirk, as if no time at all had passed. He arched a brow, carefully masking the pain in his side—and the flicker of something else beneath it. Recognition. Surprise. Relief.

"You again...?"

"You remember me," you said.

"Of course I did."

You grinned. "Good. I'd have been offended otherwise."

He wanted to ask why you'd vanished after that night on the balcony. Why you hadn't returned. But he didn't. And you didn't ask why he'd grown quieter. Colder. Sharper. You just stayed. Sometimes a shadow in the halls, or a voice over his shoulder during court. Sometimes the only person who dared to question him without fear.

You knew him. Even when he didn't want to be known.

So when his world crumbled to dust—when Odin told him the truth and Loki learned he never was truly one of them—you were torn between protecting the throne and saving your best friend. Your face was the last he saw before he let go.

He should have died, but fate had other plans for him. He came back darker and angrier than ever before, his wrath spreading like fire over New York. You came back different too—wounded, but not broken.

You didn't trust him—not anymore—and you fought amongst the Avengers when Thor brought you down to Midgard. When he saw you again, your eyes were like dusk. Older, steadier.

The Avengers defeated him and his army, and took him in as an act of mercy. He worked tirelessly to prove himself. Not to the Avengers, but to the little girl inside of you who first approached him all those centuries ago.

Eventually, he won you back. Piece by piece, day by day. He loved you, and you loved him. But good things rarely last.

Time moved on. Thanos came to Wakanda, and everything unraveled. The snap tore half the universe away, leaving behind silence and ash. For five long years, you and Loki clung to each other—sometimes distant, sometimes inseparable, pulled together and pushed apart by the weight of everything you'd lost.

Then Tony figured it out. Time travel. A second chance. And for the first time in years, you and Loki allowed yourselves to believe that maybe—just maybe—there was still a future worth fighting for.

But before the final snap... Thanos struck you, cold and sudden. You fell before you could strike him down. A warrior's death, bestowed upon an angel. Loki's cry rang out across the battlefield.

The war ended, the vanished came home. And Loki remained in a strange, suspended haze—relieved the world had been saved, and yet shattered by your absence. The universe moved on, but he couldn't. But for the first time in all the centuries of his life, he began to wonder—

If you came back once... could you come back again?

And then, one day—

You did.

A century later, long after the original Avengers had passed and all of your friends drifted their separate ways, he saw you again somewhere beyond Xandar. Your hair was shorter, eyes were sharper, skin marked by sun and starlight.

You were a rogue now, part of a crew of misfits similar to the Guardians he had grown fond of years ago. You wore knives at your belt and scars like medals. You didn't know him. But your smile knocked the very breath from his lungs. You pulled a blaster on him before he could say your name. He didn't blame you. Not in this life.

Instead, he stayed close—joined your crew under false pretenses, fought by your side, protected you in the shadows. And just when he began to see it again, the glimmer of something familiar in your laugh, the faint ache of memory in the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn't watching—

You died.

A ship exploded mid jump. Gone in a flash of fire and debris.

He found the chain you used to wear around your wrist among the wreckage. It was scorched. He kept it anyway.

Loki drifted between worlds, barelt surviving and filled with a kind of quiet fury that not even time could dull. Still, grief is a stubborn thing—and so is love. Eventually, he began looking again.

You were a queen next—radiant, intelligent and beloved by your people. And when Loki first saw you, standing at the edge of your throne room, your beauty rivaling that of Aphrodite herself, his breath caught in his throat.

You looked older in this life—wiser. But your eyes were still the same. They always were. He stayed in the shadows at first, unsure of how to approach. How do you speak to someone who has died in your arms, when now they don't even know your name?

He was discovered before long—caught trespassing in the royal archives, chasing a memory he hadn't been ready to face. He was thrown in the dungeons and shackled. Until you came.

You stood before his cell, tall and proud, accompanied by guards. He waited for the flicker of recognition. It didn't come.

"I'm told you broke into the ancient records," you said coolly. "And that you've been asking for me."

Loki met your gaze, heart breaking and hopeful all at once. "Yes," he said. "I've been looking for you for a very long time."

Your brow furrowed, lips parting slightly. He saw it then—the faintest tremor in your hands. The way you stared just a second too long.

"You... I've dreamt of you," you said softly. Almost ashamed. "Your face. Your voice." His throat went tight. "Then maybe you already know why I'm here."

You freed him that night.

He stayed at your court in secret, hidden from your council, from the political games you were bound to. And each night, you met in secret gardens, in echoing halls after the palace had gone to sleep. You listened as he told you everything: your past lives, your friends, your deaths. His grief. His love.

And you listened. You listened like you were hearing a song you'd always known but had forgotten the lyrics to.

For a time, it was enough—he let himself believe you might stay.

Soon, war crept toward your kingdom—an enemy realm threatened by your rise, hungry for your throne. You insisted on fighting beside your people. Loki begged you not to, pleaded. He'd seen too many endings, too many blood soaked hands, too many goodbyes.

"I won't leave them behind," you said, fierce and steady. "Just as I won't leave you."

He kissed you then like it was the last time—because he knew it would be.

And when you fell in battle, sword still in hand, crown discarded beside you, he held your body like something sacred. You smiled at him through crimson stained lips.

"Find me again." He closed your eyes with shaking fingers. "Always."

You came back again.

And again.

A warrior. A thief. A scholar. A goddess. A criminal. A sorceress. A traveler lost in the desert with eyes full of fire.

Each life different, and each time, the same ache. You never remembered him, not fully. Sometimes there were flickers—a dream, or déjà vu, a name on your tongue you couldn't place.

And always, you slipped through his fingers. Too soon. Too suddenly. The universe seemed determined to remind him: She is not yours to keep.

But Loki... Loki is nothing if not persistent. So he keeps searching. Across planets. Across timelines. Across lives. Because no matter how many times the universe takes you away—He will find you. He always does.

⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜

Loki walks for miles, boots coated in dust from a planet that barely knows war. The landscape almost reminds him of Midgardian forests—the stars above glow softer here. It isn't the kind of place you stumble upon. You'd have to be searching for something. Heavens know he is.

A meadow opens ahead of him like a secret, full of tall grasses that sway with each breeze. A cottage sits at the edge of the forest—small, crooked at the roof, smoke curling gently from the chimney. A clothesline stretches between two birch trees, linens snapping softly in the wind like breath.

And then he sees you.

You're barefoot, your dress trailing like a memory through the grass. Your hair is tied back in a loose braid, and your hands are full of damp linens as you hum a familiar tune he'd sang to you lifetimes ago. You pause, just briefly, to pin another sheet to the line—and then you look up.

He stops walking. The silence between you stretches, and you drop the cloth in your hands. Your eyes widen, your breath catches—and then you run. Across the field, barefoot and bright with something like childlike joy and grief intertwined together. You run as if the world depends on it. Loki meets you halfway.

Your hands cup his face tenderly, your eyes reflecting years of knowledge and grief and love and life. And Loki, god of mischief, prince of Asgard, drops to his knees in the dirt and holds you close like a man begging time to stand still.

"I knew you'd find me," you whisper, voice shaking. "I waited."

His hands tremble around your waist. "You remember me?"

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Not everything. Just... enough. Dreams. Feelings. I saw your face before I ever knew what love meant."

He laughs, cracked and aching. "You always do."

You brush your fingers along the curve of his jaw, thumb resting just beside the corner of his mouth. You fall to your knees and hold him close. "I'm not going anywhere this time."

"Do you promise?" He asks, voice wavering. You nod, forehead resting against his. "You look so tired."

"I am."

The wind sighs through the trees. He doesn't realize he's crying until your thumbs sweep the tears from beneath his eyes, until you lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth as gently as someone pressing a memory into stone.

"You don't have to be anything here," you whisper. "You don't have to look after me anymore. You've already done enough." He breaks a little at that. A god unraveled by a kindness centuries in the waiting.

You take him inside the little cottage, showing him the shelf by the window where you keep your books—the way the kettle whistles too early, the way the sun hits the wooden floor just right in the morning. You make tea with wild herbs and tell him how quiet the trees are here. And Loki listens.

He eats beside you. Sleeps beside you. Breathes beside you. Days pass without incident. Then weeks. Then seasons.

There is no more chasing. No more hoping the next life will be the one where you stay. He no longer wakes in dread, wondering how long he has before he loses you again. You're here. And you're alive. And you are his. He slowly learns how to rest.

One night, under a sky full of familiar constellations, you lie curled against him on the porch. The air is warm, the world is quiet. His hand rests over your heart, steady and alive beneath his palm. You cover his hand with yours.

"I love you," you whisper. His throat tightens and he closes his eyes. "I love you," he repeats, voice catching briefly with a bittersweet feeling.

And for the first time in forever, he does not worry how long it will last. You are not slipping through his fingers, you are not a flicker of a soul he must chase through time. You are here. You are staying.

And Loki—finally—has peace.

Notes: I cried writing this I'm not even gonna lie (I was also on my period tbf). This whole story was very heavily inspired by the whole Maya/Zatz and Maria/Manolo reincarnation storyline that Jorge R. Gutiérrez created in his projects and also Would You Fall In Love With Me? from Epic. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (P.s. find me on Wattpad for more consistent updates @pinkinkpetals !)

#marvel #mcu fandom #loki #mcu loki #marvel fanfiction #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #god of mischief #mcu #fanfic #marvel loki #loki x y/n #loki x you #reincarnation #would you fall in love with me again

136 notes · View notes

81pastrys · 4 months ago

Note

𝐻𝑒𝑦! 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑!! 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑑!𝐿𝑒𝑤𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑝𝑟𝑒-𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑀𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑢𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟.

𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑑𝑎𝑦/𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡!

-🦝

Hair Takes Time

Summary— Beatrice and Lewis forgot to make a salon trip, so Lewis comes to the rescue and learns to do it himself

Warnings— I don’t know much about type 3/4 hair, so I apologize if this not how it works

A/N— thank you 🦝 anon!!

Dad Lewis List

Lewis and Beatrice were making sure they had everything for the tournament that was early the next morning. She stopped mid way and freaked out.

“Dad, my hair!” She whined, combing her fingers through her unbraided hair. “We didn’t get it braided!” Usually before tournaments or games, she would go to a salon and get her hair professionally braided or touched up.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Lewis said, thinking of how he can fix it. There was no time between now and her tournament and she was stressing over it. “I’m sure there’s videos online that show how to do it.” He said.

She nodded and went to her room to grab hair products and whatever they might need, sometimes she would have the hairdresser come to her, so she had extras they would leave.

Lewis on the other hand looked into braids he knew she liked and that he could do on a whim. She sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, and he propped his laptop open so she could see the one he picked. “This one is simpler but I can do it.” He said.

“That works, thank you dad.” It was braids that would hold tight to her head but hang looser by her shoulders. Lewis followed the video until it got repetitive and finished off the second side. “Where does your racing number come from?”

Lewis chuckled, the story was funny but nonetheless heartfelt. “My dad’s car when I was little had a 44 on the license plate, so when I went to karting I used that number and kept it.” He explained. She had a 44 jersey for her team in honor of him.

“That’s cool!” She said. “A number that once meant nothing but randomness has become so popular because of you.” She said. He chuckled again. “Is that why you kept it when you won the championships?”

“Yeah actually, it held such meaning I could just wipe it out.” He laughed while finishing up her hair. “1 also felt demeaning and not very sportsman like in my opinion.” He lathered her hair in more product and then deemed his work satisfactory.

“It look amazing dad, thank you so much!” Beatrice beamed with excitement and hugged him. “I’ll remember to keep 44 when I when a championship.” She winked.

Her team went on to score a trophy at the tournament and she deemed it was Lewis’s amazing braiding skills, making it their thing. Every game, tournament, meeting, she had him braid her hair. He even researched how to do better braids. She lived every single one.

Love love love all the requests I have!!

@il0vereadingstuff @pandabiiissh @angelluv16 @kallanfiona @itznotsophia

117 notes · View notes

crusty-chronicles · 5 months ago

Text

The Moon and Sun (Big Sib Reader X Gon/Killua)

Ch 18: For Whom The Bell Tolls: It Tolls For Thee

Synopsis: And then everything just fell apart.

Trigger warning: Extreme Violence

-----------------------------------

"You worked with the phantom troupe!!!”

You quickly covered Gon’s mouth with your hand. Looking around to see if anyone besides the two boys had heard.

“Shhh! Not so loud! And kinda.”

Ever since you'd first opened up, they wanted know everything. Down to the last detail. Of course there were parts of your childhood you'd never really be ready to discuss. But you could share the smaller things. You could talk about the games you'd play, the types of people who were in your clan, the missions you'd go on.

It was..nice. Memories you thought you'd never look back on fondly. You thought you'd never get a chance to reminisce like this. It was also the least you could do to take their minds off of things for a while.

For the inevitable fight.

Currently, everyone on the extermination team was heading towards East Gorteau. You and the boys included. So for however long this train ride lasted, you'd make the most of it.

“It was a way of testing me. See how well I'd get along with others given my track record. The only rule was that I couldn't talk to them.”

Oh yes. How could you forget the many lectures before you left? Ones that included your banishment if you were to fail. Though realistically, you probably would have been killed instead.

You noticed the boys’ curious stares. You figured their friend Kurapika would have filled them in. Maybe he didn't know as much as you did. Albeit you didn't really have a choice, but still.

“It was for good reason. I heard the leader takes people's abilities. In hindsight it makes sense. He kept asking me questions.” You explained.

‘And what can you do little one?’

‘Is that your ability? How does it work?’

It was so painfully obvious looking back. They probably thought you'd be easy since you were a kid. But you were nothing if not true to your word. So you'd said absolutely nothing.

“Is that where you got the idea from?” Killua asked in reference to your new ability.

“Nah. Mines more of a substitution. I don't need to know anything about the person to take theirs.”

It was easier to toss away half your nen into the puppets you conjured. The condition was simpler. So long as you could switch last minute for a direct hit, you'd be able to mimic what they did.

“That makes it a bigger gamble.” Gon said with a small frown. Remembering what Kite had said about his own ability. How chance made it stronger.

“C’mon. When has my speed ever failed me?” You tried to reassure.

“I guess. But just be careful.”

He'd been more clingy towards you. More protective. They both were. But the way Gon went about it felt more intense. He hardly let you go outside by yourself. Sticking stubbornly by your side. And he'd started enforcing a bedtime on you. Using those damn puppy eyes every time you refused. You felt like a fool having a kid parent you. Although the circles under your eyes did lessen.

But you reminded yourself he was just scared. He didn't want to lose anybody else. A strong desire to keep you safe after what happened with Kite. A mentality so similar to yours that you just couldn't get after him for it. If clinging onto you was what kept that dark aura at bay, then you’d just have to suck it up.

“I'm the one who's supposed to be telling you that. You're ten times as reckless.” You pointed out.

He pouted up at you, mouth opening for a rebuttal before you cut him off.

“And I better not catch you saying it's okay when you get hurt. Got it?”

He deflated. Wanting to add something but knowing you'd shut him down again. Luckily Killua was there to back him up. The fact that there were two of them always being used against you.

“But it's okay when you get hurt?” He questioned.

You scrambled for an answer. It was unfair how they ganged up on you sometimes.

“None of us should be getting hurt if we can help it.” You settled on.

They seemed satisfied with your response, temporarily dropping the subject. It was only a matter of time before Gon perked up once more.

“Hey. Could you teach us that game you were talking about earlier?” He asked.

“I don't know. You've gotta have pretty sharp eyes to play.” You teased.

“Not too sharp considering you've got bags puffing up yours.” Killua joked.

“Hey!”

You dealt out the box of cards they'd brought. Using the opportunity to check in on them. Gon's aura was calm. Eerily so. You were worried the murkiness of his aura would rise to the surface any second. That it would consume him. You had a bad feeling about it.

Killua’s was nervous, but determined. You'd never know he was tense by just looking at him, but his aura was plain as day. You hated to admit it, but his was the normal reaction you were expecting from both.

You briefly glanced over to the left. The men in front of you were apprehensive. About who, you couldn't really tell. The boys for both being ready? Not being strong enough? Or you being mentally unstable? Cracking under pressure because of a little blood? You'd all just have to wait and see.

You always hated the waiting game.

At least Knuckle and Shoot weren't scared of you anymore. Thanks to Morel putting in a good word for you. You’d almost say you enjoyed that old man’s company. It was nice to talk about everything for a change. Talk without fear of being judged. He didn't spill the secret of your identity to the rest, and you were immensely grateful.

If things ended up working out after all, maybe you'd take him up on his offer to get some counseling. God knows you needed it after everything you've been through. For now, you would relish in the few hours you still had with your boys.

—---------------------------

You'd reached the city within two hours, stopping at a restaurant to stock up on food. It just so happened that a broadcast was playing. One that stated the ruler wanted everyone in Peijing to make their way to the palace. You didn't have a good feeling about it.

All those people in one place…it left plenty of room for disaster. Morel only confirmed your suspicions.

“Colt has a theory. He believes that the celebration will be used to sort the population.”

What was it that damn cat had called you? A Rare? The chimera ants seemed to be obsessed with those who possessed nen. They would most likely be eaten by the king or worse. You had a pretty good idea of what ‘worse’ was after seeing the state Kite was in.

You didn't think ten days would be enough to save all those people. And unfortunately for them, they weren't a top priority. Everyone's focus would be on the king and his lackeys.

There was also the issue of Netero’s whereabouts. He'd gone off on his own in East Gorteau without any backup. Telling Knov if he didn't respond today, he was most likely dead. Now while you weren't fond of the old man, you didn't want him dead. But knowing him, he was perfectly fine out there.

Ping

Right on schedule. Knov read the text on his phone before showing everyone else. His plan was to lure the royal guards away from the king starting at midnight. Great. Just great. Let your kids deal with one of those monsters. Though you knew they'd made enough progress to keep up. Netero made sure to include the ‘satellite ears’ comment from Morel as well.

“That old bastard scares the crap out of me.” He mumbled.

“Yeah? Well he irritates the hell out of me. Damn geezer always has something up his sleeve.” You added.

You beamed as the waiter served you a slice of cake. The duo next to trying to stifle their laughter at your reaction. The rest of the men at the table, however, eyed the tall pile of sweets on your plate with concern.

“That much can't be good for you.” Knuckle said, watching you scarf down another sweet.

You looked up for a brief moment.

“Mind your business.”

“Okay then.” He put his hands up in defense.

The hard ass who made a deal of being guarded, eating like a little kid with no dietary restrictions. It was baffling. Downing apple juice after apple juice. Cookie after cookie.

“Remember what we said. At least one real piece of food.” Gon scolded.

Giving out a small grumble, you took a bite out of your sandwich before continuing on.

—---------------------------------

All you could do was wait. You hated it. The rapid beating of your heart in anticipation. Bated breath as the seconds ticked down. Any moment now, Gon’s nen would return to him. He had done surprisingly well during training. The question now was how well he'd apply what he learned.

You could feel it, the exact moment the curse had been lifted. All at once his nen had surged through him. The little cat hovering over his shoulder was finally gone. He looked down at himself to confirm the aura around him.

“Well alright. It looks like you can use nen again. Go on, try it out.” Knuckle encouraged him.

Before he could try anything, Morel called out to him.

“Gon…”

The boy in green gave his full attention.

“Sorry, but I'm not convinced we should keep you around.”

A small feeling of protectiveness came over you. They make these kids train like hell only to go back on their word? You didn't think so. Although you hadn't wanted them here in the first place. But it was too late to turn back now.

“Show me your resolve,” He continued on, discarding his shirt to prepare for an attack.

“Pretend I'm the enemy who did all that to Kite.”

You could feel Gon’s aura shift into something darker. He really shouldn't have said that. The dark murkiness you've been trying to help keep at bay was slowly rising to the surface.

“If your attack isn't powerful enough, I'll call for a replacement hunter.” Morel was only adding fuel to the fire.

“A real attack?” Gon questioned.

You didn't have a good feeling about this. Kite was a sensitive subject. To use that as a means to provoke Gon… You knew damn well that kid could do damage just fine without nen. You didn't know what he was capable of with it. And it worried you. For his sake more than his opponent’s.

“Yes dammit! Give me everything you've got or you're off the team.”

A steady anger, and then it was gone. Once again Gon's aura had been eerily calm. Approaching Morel slowly before responding.

“Got it.”

He stood still for a moment, then all at once a feeling of bloodlust consumed him. The intent to kill evident as the aura built in his fist. From the others, you could sense their shock. Their fear. You were in a similar boat.

For a split second, you were afraid. Trembling at the force of his power. For a second, you were reminded of him. The onslaught of ren that poured out. The malice.

“Show me rock!”

It felt like you couldn't breathe. Killua, taking notice of your panicked state, went to calm down Gon. He was overdoing it, especially if it was scaring you. So he put a hand on Gon’s shoulder. The aura in his fist disappearing almost instantly.

“Gon, that's enough.”

You could breathe again. That was exactly what you were worried about. He was just a kid. You didn't want him to do something he'd regret. To have blood on his hands at such a young age. But there was only so much you could do.

“Am I right, old man?” Killua asked Morel.

The older man took a few deep breaths. Trying to calm the racing of his own heart. If that was Gon’s raw strength, there was no telling what he could do with your training. Good. They really needed an ace in their hole.

“...Yeah ..” He answered at last.

Gon seemed to snap out of the daze he was in. Jumping up in shock with his own actions. He turned around and offered Killua a ‘thanks’ for stopping him. He turned back to Morel and clasped his hands together in an apology.

“Sorry Mr. Morel! I really was just about to kill you!”

It felt like all the air in your body escaped from your lungs. That wasn't right. But Morel just laughed him off.

“You got me real good there kid!”

It felt all too similar to the way you grew up. Being praised for having no limits. You couldn't have been the only one who was worried. The only one who was scared he'd cross a line he couldn't come back from. You felt like you were going insane.

Gon looked back over at you expecting your usual praise. Instead he was met with your somber expression. It was too close to the way you'd looked the last time you were in the NGL. He wonders if he scared you. The thought makes him feel icky inside.

He approaches you and hugs you as tight as he can. It's the only thing he can think to do. Whether it's to reassure him or you, he can't tell.

“I didn't mean to. I know I'm not supposed to get that worked up. Not yet at least. I'm sorry.”

It takes you a second to respond. Trying to collect your thoughts after the intensity of that moment. Of what was surely to come.

“You're fine. Just, don't get too carried away.” You reassured.

He relaxes at the feeling of you hugging him back.

But you didn't believe the words tumbling out of your mouth.

—---------------------------------

It wasn't hard for the three of you to infiltrate East Gorteau. In fact, it was almost too easy. Still, none of you could risk being caught. It didn't help there were so many people on the lookout for intruders.

You continued on to the meeting point, listening as Killua explained the situation to Gon. How the people here were just itching to rat each other out for some money.

“My older brother told me everything, and he probably heard it from grandpa.”

Killua didn't talk about his family often, and you couldn't blame him. But he seemed to respect his Grandfather. He spoke about him with something just shy of fondness. You were glad he had some family he could rely on.

You stopped short near the ledge of a cliff. The three of you ducking down quickly.

“A town?” Gon questioned.

“Yeah a tiny one.” Killua confirmed.

You used your eyes to focus on the nearest homes. Empty. You used your en to scan for people next. Nothing. The town was completely abandoned.

“So what now?” Gon looked between you and Killua for a plan.

“We sneak in.”

“No need. Everyone's gone.” You informed.

They knew better than to question your assessment. Your eyes were never wrong. So it was on to the next step of the plan: finding out just what the hell happened.

“Stay here then. We'll investigate. You don't need to see anything you don't have to.” Killua instructed.

You gave a small nod. Freaking out over potential corpses was the last thing you needed. If you could stall seeing anything too gruesome, you'd have a better chance during the big fight. Or any fight for that matter.

You watched as the two of them disappeared into the town. Tracking their auras as they went. Gon peeked his head out and gestured for you to come over. You took cautious steps towards them. Knowing your luck you'd probably slip.

“They've already begun sorting. Most of the people were already buried, and not very deep either. It was a good thing you hung back.” Killua explained.

Good to know you're original ten days was just wishful thinking. You couldn't help but feel bad for these people. No technology and no way to know what was going on in their country.

“They can't even call for help.” You said softly.

“It's not all bad news,” Killua tried to comfort.

“If my theory is correct, it'll be easy to stop them. We just cause a commotion and the selection will totally stop.”

“In theory it'll be easy. But we have to be prepared for anything.” You warned.

Like counter measures for said commotions. If Pitou could control people, chances are the leader was under control too. His word was law here. There'd be no resistance if he suggested something under the ants' influence.

“Yeah but considering the amount of people the ants have to sort, there's no way they sent nen users to do it. It's most likely Pitou's ability. And if that's the case, this'll all be a sitch.” Killua explained.

“We just have to pop up, take out whoever's being controlled, and cause a panic. And after that. We'll encourage the people who escaped to go off and check on other nearby towns.”

It was a decent plan. The only issue was…Right as you were thinking it, the small assassin already had it covered.

“The problem is they'll detect us quickly. Once we make our move, they'll know. If we wanna go through with the old man’s plan, we should keep as low a profile as we possibly can.”

You'd almost forgotten he was used to be stealthy. That he was in his element here in the dark and unsuspecting.

“It's your call.” He addressed you and Gon.

The boy in green agreeing almost immediately. Determination radiating off him.

“Let's do it. If the selection has already begun, we can't just simply ignore it.”

The looked up at you for your answer. A damn shame how much you've changed in just one year. If this was still when you were on Greed Island, you would've told them to stick to the mission at hand. Lives at stake be damned. But you were different now. Softer. And the thoughts of self preservation you were used to having weren't present. Instead was the rational that you couldn't exactly let people die.

“If we go through with this, we've gotta be careful.” You responded at last.

“Alright, let's go!” Killua instructed before stopping in his tracks. He took a breath before facing you and Gon.

“But I'm gonna do it alone. You two stay hidden.”

“Stay hidden!!? But wouldn't it be better if we-” Gon started, but Killua had cut him off.

“Don't forget our primary mission. We have to take Pitou down. That should be your focus.” It had come out more defensive than he wanted. He swore he could feel your eyes focus in on him as the words left his mouth.

“You let me handle everything else, alright? I'll stir things up,” he said softer.

“And uh no offense, but this'll be a lot easier to do alone.”

“Like hell you'll do this alone!” You argued.

The last thing you wanted was to split up. It made it easier for the enemies to pick off one by one. Yet Killua wasn't budging on the subject. Resolve strong in his eyes when he spoke.

“Look I know you're used to doing this, but I'm sure there's more villages like the first one. The moment you freak out is the moment we lose a fighter. Maybe if you weren't…” He stopped himself, trying to phrase what he was gonna say right.

If you weren't so traumatized by blood, you'd be more useful. He'd never say something like that to you again. Or, he'd try his damn best not to.

“If things were different you'd be able to help me fully. But you're our best bet at scouting and Gon’s our strongest fighter. So… just sit this one out. The both of you.”

You could sense his worry. It made you faulter for a second.

“Yeah, I get it.” Gon said, knowing you and him would just get in Killua’s way.

“Do you?” The small assassin questioned.

“Huh?” He did a double take at his best friend's words.

“Do you really think you get it?”

“Killua?”

“Then promise me something!” It was a plea. Looking between you and Gon quickly.

“Both of you! Don't make a move! Even if people are killed right in front of you! Promise me!”

He remembered the way you two had reacted at the factory. You'd both lunged forward when those people were killed. Only being stopped by Kite’s quick thinking. He didn't want the same thing happening again.

You could sense his panic rise. A desperation to keep you two safe at all costs. He was almost begging for you two not to do anything. What the hell was the association putting these kids through? What would they go through before the end of the ten days?

Gon didn't answer. You didn't think he could. As much as he loved Killua, he had his morals. He was a stubborn kid who wouldn't go back on them either. So you answered instead. You could abide by Killua’s conditions if he could abide by yours.

“Sure I'll promise you. As long as you promise me you'll come back no matter what. If there's an enemy stronger than you, you'll run.”

It was like you were in a standoff. His resolve waivered in the presence of yours. He was tired of running away from fights, and you knew that. Then there was the matter of him coming back. He didn't know what to expect out there. He couldn't promise you what he couldn't guarantee. And he couldn't force you and Gon to do the same.

His resolve crumbled, giving in to yours.

“I'll text you okay? Our cell phones should still work in the area.” He tried to diffuse, but you wouldn't let him off the hook that easily.

“You can't just change the subject.”

There was a small amount of guilt radiating off him. But there was still the worry from earlier.

“I know. I'm Sorry. Don't worry about it. I'm just a little on edge.” He explained.

The mission was already taking its toll on both boys. They shouldn't have the weight of the world on their shoulders at such a young age. You'd curse the association to your dying breath. When this was over, you'd all need some counseling.

You offered up what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

“It's okay to be scared and worried. I know I am. But we help each other. It's the only way we can get through this. You know that right?”

You could feel him start to relax, steadily gaining back his resolve.

“I know.” He responded.

Gon put his hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“If anything goes wrong, we'll be there to help you.” He added.

It felt like Killua was engulfed in warmth. Like you all weren't about to march to your potential deaths. It was why he was so scared of losing you both. But he had to have faith in your abilities. Trust that you could get the job done and make it back.

“Right. I've got your backs too!”

The three of you continued to walk for a while, but something felt off. It felt like something was watching you. The unmistakable sensation of eyes on your back. Then for a split second, you sensed a presence.

Someone was following you. The aura wasn't malicious from what you could tell. Just cautious. Like they were scoping you out. The presence would appear and disappear at one minute intervals. It was probably some sort of nen ability.

You didn't want to leave the boys by themselves, but you couldn't risk either of them getting hurt right now. You had to be smart about this.

“Hey, you two go on ahead.” You called out.

“Is something wrong?” Gon asked.

You made sure to keep talking while you signed slowly.

‘Enemy behind.’

“I just need to check something out. It won't take me long.”

The duo nodded in understanding. Never had you been prouder to see them sign ‘safe.’ Slow and meticulous, but the word all the same. You were glad you were able to teach them something useful.

They took off without you, leaving you to deal with who was following. He'd show himself every minute. All you had to do was wait him out.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

You summoned a strand of nen and shot it straight behind you. There was a noise of surprise as it wrapped completely around the enemy. You tugged them close to you, turning around to face your stalker.

“You know I'm too fond of being followed.”

Your tone was cold as you stared down the chameleon chimera ant. He shook in your presence. Eyes wide at the fact you'd caught him. He'd wanted to continue following one of the boys. This was not good.

“You better have a damn good reason or you're dead.”

He tried to formulate a sentence. Tried to speak, but your resolve was suffocating. Your eyes looked at him like he was nothing. All that came out of his mouth was-

“How did you-!”

But you'd cut him off by tightening your nen around his neck.

“The next words out of your mouth better be an answer. I don't have time for games.”

He panicked, blurting out the first thing he could think of to get him out of trouble.

“I want to defeat the king!”

Your intimidating expression changing into one of confusion.

“What?”

He could feel your nen weaken around him. That was a good sign. He continued to talk, believing more in his chances of convincing you.

“He's a monster. He killed and ate his own men when he was born. He needs to be stopped.” Meleleron explained.

“I thought I'd watch the three of you. See if you were strong enough for the task before I asked for help. I wasn't trying to attack you.”

Your eyes scanned him for any deceit. There was none. All you could sense was determination and fear. Scared of you, yet still wanting to complete his goal. You let him go, releasing your nen.

“Okay.”

“Okay!?! Just like that? You're not gonna interrogate me?” He pushed, unbelieving it was that easy.

“I can see when someone's lying to me. Don't worry, I'd know if you were trying to lure me into a trap.”

It was a thinly veiled threat. One that promised his death if he betrayed you. He'd take it. If you could see when he was being genuine, it only worked in his favor.

“Okay. Where to begin…”

He explained to the situation at hand. How his father figure was eaten by the king. How few ants stayed by the king’s side while the rest left to create their own castles. His plan for catching him off guard. Using his ability to become invisible before attacking. How he needed someone strong enough to carry out the plan.

“Your best bet is Gon. He's most likely to listen to you. Killua would kill you on the spot.” You said.

“Why can't you help me? You're fast. We'd be able to take the king completely off guard.”

You shook your head. Despite how it looked like, you knew you weren't the best person for the job. Call it a hunch.

“I'm not a fighter. And I've got a personal fight I need to be ready for. I also choke up. Can't stand the sight of blood. Gon’s your best bet. I'm sure he's stronger than me now anyways.”

And Killua was faster. They'd done well in their respective categories. You just hoped it'd be enough. You looked Meleoron head on.

“Test him if you want…but if you go too far I'll make you suffer.” You warned.

You cared about those boys. It was easy for him to see. As long as you were vouching for the boy in green, he'd take up the offer, and he'd do his damn best not to rough him up too much.

“Right. I'll get going. Thank you for trusting me.”

He took off without a second glance. You were once again on your own. You decided to try and make your way towards the palace. If nothing else, you could take out a few of Pitou's puppets.

You set a steady pace. Slowing your heart rate little by little. If the ants sensed you now, you'd come off as nothing more than a small animal. They wouldn't recognize you as human. For all the shit your clan put you through, they taught you some pretty helpful tricks.

Things seemed to be going well before you sensed it. Another presence following you. They weren't concealing themselves either. In fact, they were right above you. You looked up and we're met with a familiar ant. The same one that tried to ambush you the night everything went to shit.

It seemed to recognize you too. Owlish eyes widening before it tried to fly away. So much for going undetected. You gave chase, following directly under it.

“I'm not gonna let you get away!” You shouted, preparing to restrain it.

Right as you were about to summon your nen, a fist made harsh contact on your face. You skidded to the side from the force.

You'd been so distracted, you didn't sense the other ant. You'd fallen for that damn owl’s trap. You braced your legs, looking up at your assailant. A cheetah ant. It beamed at you, sharp teeth on full display.

“I was looking for a meal. Thank you for volunteering!”

You were really starting to hate cats. You watched the owl ant make its escape. It was most likely gathering information on everybody's abilities. How you all fought. He was a problem. You didn't have time to deal with this new ant.

Judging by his cocky aura, he wouldn't be much of a challenge anyways. He was weak. The only reason he got a hit on you was because you weren't paying attention.

“You're a Rare, aren't you? This'll be so much fun! Try not to die too early, okay?”

You dodged as he went to strike again, claws fully outstretched. He glared at you. It was then you noticed the small being floating by his side. That was Knuckle’s ability. So this was the ant that got away? You could see why he'd give the others trouble.

But he wouldn't be able to beat you.

“Lucky guess, but you won't be able to dodge my next attack. You humans have got nothing on my speed!”

He rushed towards you once more. Right before he could make contact, you grabbed his wrist. A cruel grin on your face.

“Fast?” You questioned.

He tried to pull back, but your grip was unrelenting.

“Let go of me!”

He used his free hand to try and slash your face. You caught it too, applying pressure to his wrist. He caught your eyes and froze. You almost looked amused. It made him feel something he'd never felt before. Fear.

You looked at Cheetu like you knew something he didn't. You weren't afraid of dying. No… You didn't think he could kill you. And then you spoke. Something in your voice had a shiver running down his spine.

“You're so pathetic I might just laugh. Oh you poor creature. You don't even know what speed is. Here, let me show you!”

The grip on his wrist vanished, as did you. His eyes unable to track where you went. He could smell it on you now. The blood imbedded in your scent. You were like them. A monster like the royal guards.

He shook the thought from his head. A strong Rare? Yeah right. You were nothing compared to him. A slow weakling. He had no reason to be so shaken up by you. It was just an empty threat made to make him lose his cool. He'd kill you in no time.

“Henry, attack!”

It happened so suddenly. One minute he was standing, about to track your scent and put an end to you. The next, his head was rolling on the ground. On his shoulders was a small jester marionette. Its hand morphed into a blade.

Your shoes came into his vision. His eyes trailed up to meet yours in disbelief.

“It can't be! What the hell are you!?!” He shouted.

You couldn't have been that fast. You were a human!

“Someone who doesn't have time for your insolence. I'm done wasting time on you,” you answered.

You snapped your fingers, signaling for your puppet to finish the job. You looked away as it jumped up, using as much force as possible to slam into the ant’s skull. You could feel the blood splatter onto your clothes. You thought you would have grown used to the sight of blue blood.

You were wrong.

Shaking as the warmth seeped into your clothes. The feeling of vile scratching at your throat. You shook your head, preparing to make your way to the meeting point once more.

When you got there, you waited for Knov to open up the portal. You fell into the small room, still trembling from earlier. Everyone was here except Gon and Killua. Your heart beat even faster in your chest.

“You okay?” Morel asked, noticing your dazed state.

“Change of clothes. Now.” You ordered.

You don't remember who tossed you your bag of clothes, but you were grateful all the same. Throwing your bloodied clothes the furthest you could from you as you changed. You hugged yourself to try and calm down. Taking in shaky breaths.

There was no blood on you, and still you felt dirty. You hated being so weak in front of others. But all you could think about was your boys. Killua running from town to town and Gon doing who knows what out there.

“You good kid?” Morel asked once more.

You nodded your head slowly.

“I'll be fine. I just need a minute. I managed to get rid of the ant Knuckle fought.” You informed.

“You got rid of Cheetu? That's awesome! Thanks a lot!” Knuckle said, patting you on the back.

“Mhm.”

You flinched slightly at the gesture, which was immediately picked up by the older man in the room.

“Give them some space for a while.” He instructed Knuckle before addressing you.

“We still have plenty of time before the selection. You can recoup for a while.”

You gave a small nod. You just hoped your boys were okay.

—---------------------------------

Gon stared down the chameleon ant before him. Its hands were raised in defense as it spoke.

“I've been watching you for a while now. I didn't plan on showing myself so soon, but things changed. Safe to say, you surpassed my expectations.” He explained.

Gon was about to let his guard down when he remembers something. You said somebody was following the three of you. And you'd gone to check it out. This thing was capable of concealing its presence.

It was the same ant.

He released an angry ten in an instant. Summoning as much nen as he could into his fist.

“What did you do to Y/n!”

Meleoron couldn't help but freeze. Twice now his life had been threatened. And you'd said this kid would be more likely to hear him out. Look how that was turning out.

“Nothing! I swear!” He pleaded.

Gon glared at him, unbelieving that he hadn't done something to you.

“If you hurt them, I'll kill you!”

He was more quick to aggression here. More on edge than he'd ever been. Especially when it concerned you and Killua. Right as he was about to strike, the ant blurted out the first thing he could think of.

“We're friends! They caught me following them, and I explained myself. They gave me the go ahead to ask for your help. If you think I could take them in a fight, you're severely overstimulating my abilities!”

All at once Gon’s aura dissipated. His guard was still up, but he was less hostile.

“You promise they're fine?” He asked.

“Swear on my life. You can call them.”

He relaxed completely at the confirmation.

“I believe you.”

“Just like that!?!?” The ant exclaimed, once again caught by surprise at how easy it was to convince one of you.

Now that Gon was thinking about it, he may have overreacted. You weren't weak. And you were quick enough to get out of any trouble. You were fine, he was sure of it.

“Well yeah. Y/n would never be beaten by you. And if you did hurt them…Then I won't have to show you any mercy. I could just kill you, you know?” He responded.

The look in his eye was very reminiscent of yours. Cold with the intent to follow through. But it quickly softened up.

“I just worry about them. I know they're strong, but it's different here.”

Pitou’s here.

He didn't want to lose you the same way he'd lost Kite. He promised himself he'd do anything to stop that from happening.

“Man. You two are scary when you're mad.” Meleleron mumbled under his breath.

—-----------------------------------

Your head perked up at the sound of someone entering the room. You weren't as frazzled as before. Directing your attention to the person in the hopes it was one of the boys.

Your eyes landed on Gon first, then on Meleoron. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh? You met the lizard guy. Good.”

“Mhm. He told me you two were friends. I'm so proud of you!” Gon praised.

You weren't the best around people. So to see you made a friend on your own, he was happy for you. But you looked confused by the statement. Face scrunching up.

“Easy. I told him I trusted him. The friends thing is an overstatement.” You explained.

“Well he was gonna kill me if I didn't say I knew you!” Meleoron argued.

“It's your fault for following him.”

“You told me to!!!! Gah! I don't like you at all.” He pointed an accusing finger at you.

Against your better judgement, you almost laughed. But then you remembered you were still missing your other kid.

“Killua isn't with you?” You asked.

Gon shook his head.

“We spit up after you left.”

Damn. You didn't have a good feeling about this. Especially with that scout ant still out there. The entire room seemed to go quiet at the information. Killua was the only one missing. And he usually stuck very closely to the plan.

“Do you think…?” Shoot started.

An uncomfortable feeling churned in your gut.

“Let's give him another hour. Besides, we still have a few days left. We can afford to give him that much time.” Morel tried to comfort.

Sensing your distress, Gon sat next to you. He put his head on your shoulder. You could feel worry in his aura, try as he might not to show it. Yet you could tell he was still hopeful Killua would be back.

“Killua will be fine. He won't be beaten so easily.” He assured.

You wanted to believe him, but you couldn't just sit back and do nothing. You summoned half of your nen into your palm. Conjuring a small figure. The ballerina marionette looked up at you, awaiting its orders.

“Find Killua. Return to me in two days if you can't.”

It gave a salute before taking off.

Your lucky day.

More waiting.

—--------------------------

Killua felt his body giving out. He'd lost too much blood. He knew he did, collapsing into a puddle of it. A small smile made its way to his face. You probably would have passed out seeing this much. Probably scold him for getting hurt too. He was just glad it was him instead of you.

‘Promise me you'll come back no matter what.’

He blinked slowly. Imagine if he'd made that promise? He would have broken it, and you were never supposed to break a promise to a friend.

“Sorry, Y/n. I know how you feel about losing another kid. But it's not your fault this time.”

He spoke out into the abyss with the last of his strength. He knew you'd put this on your shoulders. You always did when something went wrong. So much guilt on your conscience.

“It wasn't your fault the first time either.”

He didn't want to add into your trauma, but he could feel himself fading. He wished you could've met Alluka. She would've loved you. And he knows you would've loved to have a little sister again.

He was so grateful he got to meet you. To have someone like you who saw his worth past his assassin potential. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to heal.

“I love you.”

He thinks he might've traded his own mother and father if it meant he'd get to bask in your warmth again.

He was grateful for Gon too. For him always being on his side. Seeing nothing but the good in him. His first real friend. He didn't want to leave him either.

“Gon…Please take care of them. They're gonna need you. I'm sorry…I wasn't…any help.”

His body felt cold. He didn't have any strength to push himself up. You wouldn't miss him that much anyways. As long as you had Gon, you'd be fine. You seemed to love him more anyways. He tried to console himself with the thought. Although a part of him knew it wasn't true.

He saw a pair of small feet enter his spotty vision. He heard a piercing shriek. And then darkness.

He awoke to the feeling of something on his chest. He was surprised to wake up at all. He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the sudden brightness. He made out the small figure sitting on him.

What was your puppet doing here?

“Hey Shika. Y/n sent you after me, huh?” He greeted with a smile.

It nodded.

He doesn't know why it made him so happy. That you cared.

“The little thing didn't leave your side the entire time you were out.” A familiar voice spoke.

He directed his vision to the side. It was that octopus ant. Ikalgo? He must've been the one that saved him. Now that he thinks about it, he faintly remembered the feeling of being carried.

“How long was I out for?” he asked.

“Three days.”

“TWO DAYS! THEY'RE GONNA KILL ME!”

He took out the IVs from his arms. Getting up as fast as he could to make his way over to you and Gon. You were gonna be so pissed at him.

—--------------------------------------

Shika was still gone. That was a good thing, it meant she found Killua. It meant he was alive out there. It was the only thing that brought you comfort while you waited.

You glanced over at Knov. He was…well he was mentally fucked. He fell apart at just a glimpse of Pitou's en. You didn't blame him. You'd freaked out too the first time you felt it. But now was not the time. It was one fighter down.

And then there was Palm. You hadn't heard a word from her. She should've said something by now. Despite getting off on the wrong foot, you'd grown fond of her. You couldn't imagine the weight on her shoulders right now. They'd thrown her right into the lion’s den.

Then there was the matter of how she'd take Knov’s breakdown. The man she loved was physically aging from his fear. Chances are it wouldn't go over well.

You felt Gon tug on your sleeve. You redirected your attention to him, watching as he pointed up. The portal opened and in finally came Killua.

Thank god.

“Killua!” Gon called out before tackling him in a hug.

He gave out a noise of surprise as he stumbled back. He rebounded quickly, however, and returned the boy in green’s enthusiasm.

“See? I made it out just fine.”

Fine? He was covered in bandages. Just what the hell happened to him. Did you really want to know? You decided it didn't matter, walking towards him slowly.

You were close enough for him to try and make out your expression. You looked drained.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked.

He was caught off guard when you crouched down and pulled him into a hug, cradling his head tightly.

“Don't you ever do that again.”

He could feel you shaking. He didn't mean to make you worry. But despite everything, he couldn't help but smile. You really did care about him. And it's not like peaceful moments like these would last. So he took it all in. Hugging you back tightly.

“I promise I won't. I've got you to protect me, remember?” He tried to lighten the mood, yet you hugged him tighter.

“My precious baby. I was so scared.”

Was it weird he felt like crying? Being loved was such a strange feeling. He thinks his mom would've blown a fuse seeing you coddle him. He doesn't care. Not one bit as you continued to hug him.

You looked over his shoulder, catching the gaze of another chimera ant. This one being an octopus.

“You made a friend?” You asked, hesitantly releasing him.

He couldn't hide his embarrassment when you let him go. Not wanting the other hunters to see him being soft.

“Yeah. He's pretty cool. Just don't call him an octopus.” He responded.

You stood up to your full height, staring down this new ant with scrutiny.

“You give my kid any problems, Squidward?”

He gaped at you. Eyes wide in shock

“Did…did you just call me squid!?!!”

He turned towards Killua with stars in his eyes.

“Killua I love your big sibling!”

That was unexpected.

Killua stood in front of you protectively.

“You better not! They already have a partner!”

You slapped a hand to your forehead.

“You're such a gremlin. Now you,” you pointed towards the octopus ant.

“Answer the question.”

He stood unwavering in your presence. You were surprised to see a surge of loyalty in his aura.

“I would die if it meant helping Killua out.”

His resolve was strong.

Geez, these kids had a habit for picking up strange friends. Although you couldn't complain. You needed all the help you could get.

“Well that settles it.” You approved.

Killua high fived him, introducing Ikalgo to Gon while he introduced Meleoron. It filled you with warmth to see your boys back together again. Yet you couldn't get past this gnawing feeling in your gut. The one you always got when something was about to happen.

It was foreboding.

Over the next three days, you went over the plan. You, Killua, and Gon would take on Pitou. Knuckle, Meleoron, and Shoot would take Youpi. Morel would have to deal with Pouf by himself. Ikalgo was tasked with finding Palm. Something you wouldn't admit had you letting out a sigh of relief.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

It was all you could do while the others plotted for what could go wrong. You don't remember if you've ever been this anxious, your leg bouncing up and down.

Pitou had healing abilities, or at least you think they did. But what if that wasn't enough to fix Kite? What if he was beyond fixing? Was there any other way you could bring him back?

You hated how everything was building up. This feeling of dread. Moving from one location to the other. Getting closer and closer to the castle. To your potential doom. It had you chewing on your lip next. Biting at the skin there until it was raw.

Five minutes until midnight.

You decided to ask what was weighing so heavily on your mind.

“What are the other two guards’ abilities?”

Meleoron and Ikalgo looked at each other in thought. The octopus spoke first.

“Pouf has this weird ability. He can give someone a completely different nen type. If there's a specific ability they want, he can grant it.” He explained.

Not good. Was that why there were still so many ants loyal to the king? The chance of becoming more powerful calling to them like a moth to the flame.

“That's not all. The way he goes about it…It's like the ant was reborn,” Meleoron added.

“He wraps them in a cocoon. Depending on how much was changed, it could take a few hours or a few days before the ant emerges again. It's how they plan to make soldiers out of all the people sorted.”

You felt a flicker of hope. Maybe…Maybe you could substitute it. You just had to be quick. One wrong move and you were dead. You'd be at half power, but it would be worth a shot.

Okay. You had a back up. It helped soothe your nerves a bit. Not enough to get rid of the dread you were feeling.

What was in store for you?

“One minute!” Morel called out.

You tensed as you got up. Everyone around you prepared for battle. You could feel everyone's nerves. Their resolve. Whatever happened now, it would be out of your control. You spared a glance towards Gon and Killua one last time.

You'd protect them no matter what. Even if you had to break your promise to Kari.

You waited as the last ten seconds ticked down. It was then you finally realized what was wrong. You started shaking. The malicious aura buried so deep inside Gon had consumed him completely.

“GO!!!!” Morel shouted.

At his command, all of you made a break for it out the door. There was nothing you could do right now. You had to get through this first hurdle first.

What was this power?

Never mind the red beasts on the steps. What was this raw power? No intent to kill, but so overpowering you almost faltered. The building shook from the force.

Youpi, you presumed, morphed his body to attack. So much happened in just one second. Morel’s smoke screen. The building caving away to golden streaks of nen. Knuckle getting in the first hit.

You continued running, going right in front of the boys as a precaution. ‘Get past the steps.’ you repeated in your head. Keep going. You could look back later.

You were fighting with yourself not to let your en scan around you. You couldn't risk letting it clash with another royal guard’s. If you did, you were all screwed. You couldn't even check to see if the boys were still behind you.

All at once, Youpi smashed the steps behind you. You could feel the ground give way slightly, yet still you pushed on. The stairs didn't matter. As long as the boys were okay.

You relaxed slightly hearing their footfalls behind you. Two pairs of footsteps. Then one. You froze, watching Gon breeze past you without a second thought. You looked back to see Killua running in the opposite direction. Your eyes catching Ikalgo’s aura.

Thinking on your feet, you sent one of your puppets after Killua. You didn't waste a second chasing after Gon. He needed you more right now. He wasn't thinking rationally. If there was one thing you knew about Killua, it was that he kept a level head. Half of your nen should be enough to help him.

You continued to make your way outside. Eyes widening seeing Morel’s ability. If he was there, then the king was somewhere else entirely. Gon, having noticed the same thing, took off in another direction. And just before you could enter another building, he stopped short. Body tensing.

You followed his gaze.

You didn't believe what you were seeing. The amount of power swirling around some sort of ant. No, it wasn't just some ant. It had to be the king. His aura radiated acceptance. He wasn't angry or malicious. Not a trace of bloodlust. He held himself high without any worry.

Even if you were at full power, even if you were in your prime…You could never take him on. No one from your former clan could. For the first time since you were seven, you felt lesser. Insignificant in this thing’s presence.

Was that Netero?

He saw you and Gon, gesturing behind himself with a grin. One that said they're all yours.

That stupid old bastard!

That fucking idiot!

You were swept away in a surge of furious, vengeful aura. So incredibly dark and full of malintent you had to take a step away. The feeling was suffocating. Undeniably, it felt evil.

You wanted to snap him out of it. You wanted to see her in his eyes. But he was getting closer and closer to the edge of no return. That old geezer shouldn't have goaded him on. Morel shouldn't have pushed him earlier.

What could you do?

You couldn't tell him not to fight. This was personal. And he'd only double down if you tried. Knock him out maybe? He'd never forgive you for it, but you were running out of options. All you knew was as of right now, Pitou couldn't be killed.

They needed to be alive to fix Kite.

“Gon! Y/n!” Killua called out.

You forced yourself to turn around, seeing Henry sitting on his shoulder before he transferred back to you. Your nen whole once again.

He frowned seeing your shaken up state. Then his eyes landed on his grandfather. He took in the situation fully. Netero and his grandfather had the King. Which meant…Pitou was in the tower.

He wanted to open his mouth to scold you for using your ability. Tell you not to waste it on making sure he was okay. But the sound of Gon’s voice made him freeze. Like you, he could feel something wasn't right.

“Pitou is right over there.” Never had Gon’s tone been this cold.

How could the sun be hiding so much darkness?

“Let's go,” He ordered.

Killua stayed behind as Gon continued on his way. He could feel his eyes watering. His lip trembling. He wanted to ask why. What exactly was Gon asking of him? He didn't want to believe that he…

“It's gonna be okay, Killua. I promise you.” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts.

You reached down to swipe away his tears. He allowed himself to break in front of you, if only for a moment.

“But he's never… he's never spoken like that before. Like we weren't friends. How am I supposed to ignore that?” He sobbed, wrapping his arms around you in an attempt to seek out comfort.

He didn't know what you could do, but he wanted you to do something. He wanted you to get Gon back to normal. He always listened to you.

“You don't. I don't want to tell you to push your feelings down, but we have to wait until this is over to talk to him.” You tried to reassure.

“He's hurting real bad right now. Whether he knows it or not, he needs our support right now.”

You pulled back to stare him in the eye.

“Please, stay strong a little longer for me.”

He nodded feebly, wiping at the snot and tears on his face. If you said things would be okay, he believed you. He composed himself the best he could. Grabbing at your hand like a child as you followed after Gon.

He was surprised to see his Grandfather still there.

“Hey there.” The old man greeted.

Your protective aura immediately wrapped around both boys. Zeno raised a brow at that. His eyes trailing down to where Killua was still clasping your hand tightly. He got it now.

So that was why he changed so much. Why he stood a little taller now. It should've made the boy weak, your care towards him. Instead, it'd made him stronger. No use dwelling on it. He did what he came here to do.

“If you'll excuse me, my job here is done. I know nothing beyond the mission I was given.”

The words were ominous. The feeling of dread only amplifying.

“Killua, when you get inside, you make the call.” The old man prompted.

“Make the call?” Killua said, confused by the implications of his grandfather’s words.

He said nothing else, leaving the three of you alone.

You didn't know what you were expecting. Perhaps for the manic aura you'd encountered that night to be full force. You couldn't possibly have predicted the sight in front of you. You didn't want to believe it either. After everything that cat ant put you through…After what they put Kite through…

Pitou was healing a girl.

All their aura gone and placed into the nurse-like creature next to them. Putting all their focus into making sure the girl was okay. It made your stomach churn uncomfortably. You could see it in their aura. Pitou had changed. You didn't think the bloodthirsty creature could. Couldn't fathom the newfound humanity they'd gained.

They deserved to suffer.

They tried to kill you.

And yet you were willing to reach a compromise.

Something must've been fucked in your head to feel a shred of sympathy for this thing. Pitou turned around slowly to face the three of you. A protective fear radiating off them. It was ironic. So many people had died at the hands of this creature, and yet it was putting everything on the line for one girl. What could've caused this?

Gon's malicious aura spiked. It had you trembling.

“Do you remember who I am.” He said lowly.

His demeanor reminded you of Father. You didn't know how to bring him back in. You were scared to try.

“My name is Gon Freecs! And I came here for one reason! To make you restore Kite!”

His voice felt like it was rumbling off the walls. Pitou kneeled protectively in front of the girl. It looked like…A bear protecting its cub.

You hated this thing. Hated how the situation reminded you of your own. So much going on at once, you struggled to find one thing to focus on. You couldn't think with the outpour of Gon’s menacing aura.

His eyes looked between Pitou and the girl. Hands clenching in a searing anger. His output increasing that much more.

“Get away from her. Now.” He demanded.

Pitou was still. The panic in their aura rising. Gon stalked towards them. You tried to force your feet after him, but you couldn't move.

“I said step away from her. And take that monster with you.” He glared at Pitou's ability.

He probably thought they were hurting the girl. But the more rational part of your brain new better. He didn't want the girl getting in his way. This wasn't the Gon you knew and loved. This wasn't the same kid who thought with his heart first.

“I came here so I could make Kite whole again! So come and fight me!” He shouted.

Pitou immediately placed their hands on the floor. Palms up as a show of submission. It temporarily shocked Gon into letting up on his ren. You were in a similar state of disbelief.

How the hell could so much change in such a short time?

“Please. Just wait a while.” Their voice was shaky. Pleading for the chance to fix that girl.

But the anger that had been bottled up for months needed an outlet. Gon needed to lash out. Anything that would alleviate the grief and guilt in his chest. He was blind to anything else. Murky aura amplifying tenfold by the humanity Pitou displayed.

“ARE YOU KIDDING! WHY THE HELL SHOULD I WAIT FOR YOU!?! GET UP! WE'RE GOING OUTSIDE!”

He planned on killing them. You couldn't let him. No matter how upset he was. If Pitou died, the plan was over. Kite would be gone forever. So why the hell weren't you speaking up? Why was your voice caught in your throat?

Gon approached closer to Pitou.

“I'LL DO ANYTHING!” They pleaded in a last ditch effort to keep him away.

“I'll do anything you want me to do! But you have to wait. Because I…I have to save this person no matter the cost!”

Never had you felt so sick to your stomach. If only this change had come to Pitou sooner. Or perhaps it'd been better if it didn't happen at all.

“Save? What do you mean by save, huh?” Gon questioned.

One wrong word and he'd snap. Killua quickly tried to take over the situation.

“Anything? You say that you'll do anything?” He asked the ant, knowing this might've been your in to save Kite.

But Gon was too far gone by now.

“Killua. I'm asking the questions here.” He snapped.

You could feel his heart break at Gon's words. See the wobble of his lip as he tried to formulate a response. You'd had enough of this.

“You're acting like a brute!” At last you had found your voice.

Your feet felt like lead as you walked forward. Gon tensed slightly at your voice.

“They don't want to fight. For whatever reason, they're taking care of that girl. If you can't think with a level head, then you need to leave.” You were at your limit.

You hoped he'd find some clarity in your words. But it felt as if he'd directed his anger towards you.

“I… I remember you.” Pitou spoke up.

They remember you shoving the other human away to save him. They remembered you moving fast. How you ran off with two smaller humans. The feeling of slicing through your flesh.

“I'm sorry for what I did.” they apologized.

If anything, they were grateful for your presence now. The boy was listening to you. He was letting you speak. Pitou opted for appealing to your humanity instead. Their best bet at keeping Komugi safe was you.

“This girl is…precious to someone I really care about. More than you could possibly know,” they began to explain.

“Because of her, the king became who he is today. If she ceases to exist, the king will cease to be who he is. She means that much.” They searched your eyes for a glimmer of sympathy.

When they found it, they pleaded harder. Doing their best to ignore the ever darkening aura of the boy next to you.

“So all I want…Is for her to live. I beg you to let me heal her. And then I'll do anything you ask of me. So please just wait!”

Despite their words being directed at you, they were out in the open for the wrong person to hear. Gon took a step forward, and Pitou started to tremble once more.

“You want to save her life?” The question hung in the air, disbelief evident in his tone.

“You're telling me that you really want to save this girl's life?”

Everything poured out all at once. Gon started hyperventilating, pointing an accusing finger in their direction.

“HOW DARE YOU!”

Your senses were swarmed by anger and hate. Grief and malice. Denial and vengeance. You took a step back. You wanted it to stop. Arms wrapping around yourself in an attempt to protect yourself from everything negative combined.

“DAMN IT! WHY YOU! WHY SHOULD I WAIT!?! WHY SHOULD I DO ANYTHING YOU SAY!?!”

He stalked forward with the intent to kill. You couldn't stop him.

“Gon, just wait a second!” Killua called out.

“Look. That girl's really hurt. Probably because of us and grandpa's Dragon Dive.”

He stopped walking. Never had he sounded so cruel. So uncaring about another life.

“And?” Like he didn't see the problem with advancing forward.

“And? Pitou's likely healing her. Well, that's what it looks like anyway. So hold off. Wait until it's done.” It was the last attempt to get him to come to his senses.

“Likely? Probably?” Gon said the words like they were poison in his mouth.

“You want me to wait because of that!?! Even if we did wait, there's no way we can guarantee Pitou will follow through on that promise!”

He'd completely snapped. Aura unrelenting as it poured out in an endless fountain.

“Probably!?! Likely!?! For real!?? The hell with that!”

He turned around to berate his best friend.

“QUIT MESSING AROUND! WHAT THE HELL'S THE MATTER WITH YOU!?!”

Your fingers dug into your skin before releasing. Your hands clenching by your side. Shaking from the pressure. This wasn't your kid.

He needed to stop.

You needed to protect yourself from him.

“YOU WANT- YOU WANT ME TO TRUST THIS THING!?! SERIOUSLY!?! BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL-!”

SLAP

The sound of your palm hitting him reverberated throughout the room. The force of it sending him to the floor. Gon looked up at you in shock.

You realized your mistake too late. Disgust consuming your entire being. You didn't mean- You didn't want to do that! How could you ever hit your own kid? You deserved to die. Your eyes were burning with tears. Entire body shaking in repulsion.

He looked up at you heartbroken. The expression mixing in with betrayal.

You just wanted him to stop.

You didn't want to hurt him.

You'd been pushed to a breaking point you didn't think you could come back from. The tension on your shoulders making you double down. He'd been behaving like them. But so had you.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT IN MY PRESENCE! WE HAVE A JOB TO DO! DON'T LET YOUR UNCHECKED EMOTIONS RUIN IT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!”

You were a monster. How far would you descend into madness by the end of the night? How far would you keep going?

You were breathing heavily, trying to keep your composure. But seeing the red swell on his cheek made you want to grovel for forgiveness.

You could feel his hurt increase. Watching him lift a hand to his cheek and wince at the sting. A scowl overtook his features. Angry tears beginning to run down his face.

“IT’S NOT FAIR! WHY?!? WHY ARE YOU TAKING THEIR SIDE!?! AFTER EVERYTHING THEY DID TO KITE!?! AND YOU WANT TO LET THEM LIVE!?! WHY!?! DAMNIT TELL ME!!!!”

“IF YOU WOULD STOP BEING SELFISH FOR ONE SECOND, YOU'D SEE THE BIGGER PICTURE!” You shouted back.

“IF WE KILL PITOU, WE'D NEVER BE ABLE TO BRING KITE BACK! YOU'D THROW AWAY OUR ONLY OPPORTUNITY! QUIT ACTING LIKE A LITTLE KID!”

He went silent. His murky aura retreating back to him. Yet his anger was still very much present. It gave you hope, of only for a moment. Then he spoke, voice unwavering and cold.

“I hate you. You're nothing but a pathetic coward who can't even hold their own.”

And then he said something he hoped hurt you. Not caring about the repercussions it would bring.

“It's no wonder your sister died.”

Your hands clenched. Your own angry aura lashing out. Don't do it. You disgrace. Don't do it. You knew he wanted a reaction from you. You weren't about to give it to him.

You slammed your fist into the wall, crumbling it completely. You didn't want to do something else you'd regret.

“Gon that's enough!” Killua reprimanded.

He didn't seem to hear him, walking until he was directly in front of Pitou.

He didn't mean it.

Gon would never mean something like that.

But you didn't think you could forgive him for saying that. Using the secret you'd confided in him to hurt you. You sacrificed so much of yourself for these kids. You didn't ask for much in return. Just the understanding that you were doing your best. You didn't know how you'd get through this one.

You supposed he'd never forgive you either for raising a hand at him.

“For how long? How long should we wait?” He interrogated the cat ant.

You could feel relief radiate from them.

“I estimate it'll take three to four hours to heal her completely.” They answered.

You knew Pitou was lying to you. You knew they were trying to buy time. And dammit you knew you shouldn't have a shred of sympathy for this thing. But…

But Gon was going too far. He needed a buffer. Anything that might give him time to cool off. You couldn't guarantee the full three hours, but you'd try your best.

“Sorry. Too long.” Gon denied.

You spoke up before Pitou could try to plead for more time.

“Give them a little over an hour.”

He was about to snap at you again, but you didn't give him the opportunity to.

“You said you'd owe me any favor from Greed Island, remember? I'm calling it in right now. Let them heal the girl for an hour.”

You directed your attention to Pitou next.

“And once you're done, you're gonna fix our friend. The off chance you can't…You'll take your own life as payment. Do we have a deal?”

They bowed down their head to you. Truthfully, their priority was the king. They needed to protect him at all costs. If they couldn't fix the human you wanted, then they would leave back to the king's side. But you didn't need to know that.

“I promise.”

A beat of silence. And then your eyes were piercing through theirs. They were unforgiving and knowing.

“Mean it.” You said.

“What?”

“I said mean it when you promise me.” You repeated.

You wouldn't let them get out of this that easily. It was fine. As long as they kept you and that boy away from the king, they could die willingly.

“I swear.” They affirmed, deceit no longer in their aura.

You took a step back, watching as Gon sat himself right in front of Pitou.

“I'll wait right here for one hour.” He conceded.

Neither of you noticed when Killua slipped out of the room. He couldn't handle the tension. Gon had spoken down to him, like he was nothing. Friends weren't supposed to do that. You said he was hurting. That wasn't an excuse to lash out.

Killua couldn't believe his ears when he'd brought up your past against you. It'd made him mad. Gon was gonna end up making you leave again. And then what? How were they supposed to do this without you?

You'd hit Gon too. He doesn't think he's ever seen that side of you. Even when Killua had been provoking you, never in a million years did he think you would hit him. So what exactly was it that made you slap Gon?

It scared him straight. He knows if he was in the same position he would have broken.

There were signs, weren't there? Your frantic state. Scared and terrified of the power engulfing you. You pushed yourself to be here.

He couldn't stand what the NGL had brought out in the two of you. For his sake, he needed space. He needed something to get out all these pent up emotions. The hurt. The anger. The worry. So he left.

You'd been too focused on making sure Gon kept his word to notice. Pitou looked between the two of you. They felt better with you here, leaning closer to your side. As if seeking out protection from Gon’s hateful gaze.

You didn't know how long it'd been. You were sure Gon was keeping track though. Without much thought, you let your en back out. Your 100 meter radius down to 70 from your stress. You felt around for anything heading your way. Faintly you could sense Morel and Knuckle's aura. They were on the cusp of being out of your reach. They were fighting another beastly aura.

They were struggling.

You should help them. You shouldn't be sitting here doing nothing. But you just couldn't risk Gon snapping and killing Pitou. You shifted slightly, preparing to make your decision.

A flicker of life was heading towards you. So small you almost missed it. Two smidges of life floated above you. The aura was disingenuous. It shifted into curiosity after a while. Someone was watching you.

You didn't spare them a glance, concealing the nen in your palm. It slithered like a snake right under the small blimps of life. Little by little one of your puppets formed. Right before you could command it to strike, the aura receded.

But it wasn't gone.

More of it started to gather outside the room. Combining until it made up a full being. They seemed unbothered by the situation. As if on cue, a pair of footsteps echoed throughout the hall. Pitou looked out the door in fear.

“Just stay back. Don't come any closer, alright?” They pleaded with the unknown party.

The footsteps picked back up.

“Pouf please!”

You got up slowly. If this was another royal guard, you'd take care of it. You needed an outlet right now. Before they could speak, you met the new ant's eye.

A butterfly?

“I don't think so. Let's go.” You gestured back out the door.

He returned your gaze with a glare. Uninterested composure slipping.

“I've got an ass kicking with your name on it.”

A disgusted expression crossed his face. Aura brimming with hostility.

“Excuse me? And what gives you the impression you can give orders to me?”

A strand of nen wrapped tightly around his neck. He didn't even sense it. Unbeknownst to Pouf, your abilities were somewhat similar. You could read emotions just as he could. Tell what the enemy was thinking. But yours was more practiced. It had him outclassed in a way he was unaware of.

“I wasn't asking.” You said, heading towards the door.

He spared a look over your shoulder at Pitou. Mischief littering his aura before he trailed after you.

“Very well then.”

The grin soon wiped off his face. You reached out and grabbed the particle he released. Crushing it in your hands before speaking.

“I don't think you understand the position you're in. I'm not gonna let your bullshitery enter this room. Get out or I'll drag you out.”

Your top priority was making sure Gon waited the full hour. Any threat to that needed to be stopped. The ant scowled at you. A petty hatred radiating off him. Still, he followed obediently behind you.

Knowing they were about to be left alone with Gon, Pitou called out to you.

“Wait! Please don't leave!” They begged.

“Shut up. Just let them go.” Gon silenced.

It was the last thing you heard before exiting completely. Your en was fully activated to catch any tricks Pouf might throw at you. He faced you without worry, believing you weren't a threat at all.

If anything, he thought you were a fool. Attempting to do what Pitou successfully had.

“May I ask you something?”

But you saw right through it. This thing didn't have a shred of humanity. An animal in every sense of the word.

“Go to hell.” You responded.

His scowl deepened. He needed to get rid of you. That boy was a problem. And you were the obstacle getting in the way of dealing with him. He tried to gauge your emotional state. There was nothing but an unshakable resolve.

“Very well then. Have it your way.”

Subduing you should be more than enough. He could always come back and kill you later. Mind made up, he spread his wings and threw his scales at you in mass.

Even if you tried to get away, you'd be breathing them in. He had you. But as the dust settled, there was a little ballerina in your place. He felt something slam into his artificial body. Another puppet had attacked him.

You were nowhere to be seen.

What the hell?

“I don't have time for this. I must see the King at once.” He grumbled.

“Over here!” You called out.

A foolish mistake. He would not let you get away again. He spit into smaller segments. A few hundred of them charging at you while the others made a beeline away. His core spared a glance back, smiling triumphantly to see his segments holding down their target.

Only to realize it wasn't you. That same ballerina beamed up at the segments with hollow eyes.

“Strike two!” It cheered.

Pouf let out a frustrated noise before deciding to scamper away. Core flying away as fast as he could.

“Fuck! He's getting away!”

You needed one more. One more hit…. One more aura sample. Your eyes scanned for the real him. Spotting it, you used your speed to grab him from the air.

He gave out a choked sound.

“Let me go!” He screamed.

You were falling fast back down. Having scaled the side of the building to catch him. He was at your mercy. You could kill him right now. You should kill him. You could feel a mass form next to you. Looking up just in time to see his fake body lunge towards you.

Bingo!

It's fist making contact with a metallic surface.

“Strike three! Yippee! Game over.” Shika cheered.

Confused, Pouf flew away.

You landed on your feet. Shika summoned besides you. You couldn't unsummon her or you'd lose Pouf’s ability. You might be able to risk going after him. But your power was cut in half. Realistically you had no chance if the other guard was with him.

A damn shame.

You made your way back to where Pouf and Gon were, stopping at the call of your name.

“Y/n. What happened to you? Where's Pouf?” Knuckle questioned.

He thought he saw the butterfly and go this way.

“I dealt with most of him.” You answered.

“Most?”

“A little piece of him got away.”

“His damn segments,” he mumbled before addressing you again.

“That bastard is still out there.”

“It's okay. I got what I needed from him. If I see him again, I can go all out.” You assured.

He finally noticed the smaller being by your side. He decided not to bring it up. Instead gesturing towards the door behind you.

“How’s Gon doing?”

You let out a drained sigh.

“I wouldn't go in there. He's not himself. He won't listen to anyone right now. Not even me. One wrong word and it's all over. He'll kill Pitou if he's pushed. It's best to leave him alone.” You explained.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

“Positive. Please, tell the others not to disturb him.”

Right as the words left your mouth, someone else called out to you.

“Y/n?” It was Killua.

Behind him was Ikalgo and a new ant. You scanned her with your eyes and froze and the familiarity of it.

“Palm?”

She smiled at you.

Without thinking, you went up to her and pulled her into a hug.

“Oh Palm, what did they do to you?” You said softly.

You could feel her embarrassment from the contact. Yet she hugged you back all the same.

“They turned me into an ant. I died. But they brought me back. Am I…Do you think Knov will still love me?” She asked shyly.

You pulled back from her with a small smile.

“He better. I was so worried about you. I'm glad to see you're okay.”

Killua cleared his throat, effectively catching your attention.

“I thought if Gon saw Palm was okay, he'd calm down a little.”

Your expression turned somber, shaking your head no.

“He's too far gone. We can't push him right now. It's better if we leave him alone. I'm the only one fast enough to save Pitou if he changes his mind.”

With no other choice but to wait, you all stood by the doorway. It felt like an eternity before they emerged. You were engulfed in the volatile aura once more.

Pitou hesitated by the exit, turning around to try and comfort the girl. They stopped immediately hearing Gon’s threat. He'd actually threatened to kill Komugi.

You were helpless to do anything. The others in equal shock at his brutal display. Knuckle offered to keep Pitou at bay if they tried anything. But Gon brushed him off. His mind already made up.

“For some reason…I trust Pitou.” He justified, though it sounded like the complete opposite.

You could feel Pitou plotting something in desperation. Their eyes met yours. Silently begging you with their eyes to come along. The hope in them vanishing completely at Gon’s next choice of words.

“Take care of that girl for us until we save Kite.” He ordered.

“Once Pitou heals Kite, we'll release her. I promise you that.” His tone almost mocking as he addressed the cat ant.

“So guess that means for now, you're just gonna have to trust me too. Right, Pitou?”

They nodded slowly. Following closely behind Gon as he made his way back to Peijing. The icky feeling you've had all night consumed you. You wanted to go after him, something in your gut told you to go. But just this once, you ignored it.

You convinced yourself things would be okay.

“You should've gone with him,” Knuckle said.

“Why didn't you?”

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't know what kept you rooted on the spot. It could've been the familiarity of such malice that kept you away. It could've been not wanting Pitou to use you as a way to get to him. Or it could've done with those three little words.

‘I hate you.’

“It's fine. Now that I've laid my eyes on Gon, I'd know if something happened to him,” Palm intervened.

The subject was soon dropped. Your group of six deciding what to do next when Palm let out a gasp of surprise.

“What is it?” Knuckle asked.

“It's the king! He's coming this way!”

The air felt like it was sucked from your lungs.

“The king? Netero was supposed to take care of him! What do you mean he's on his way!?!” Your tone frantic.

Shit.

Everybody was working with less than optimal power.

“What do we do? What can we do?” Ikalgo said hopelessly.

You needed a minute to think. A minute you didn't have as a familiar aura approached. Thousands of little blimps scattering along and heading right towards your group.

“Pouf’s segments are here! We gotta get Komugi out of here now! As for the king, if you can't fight, find a place to hide! It's the only choice we have! I'll stall him as long as I can!” You did your best to control the situation.

“Are you crazy?!? No way in hell are you fighting the King alone!” Killua argued, grabbing your arm to make sure you listened.

“He's right! We're not gonna hide like a bunch of cowards while you're being killed!” Knuckle backed up.

You didn't have time for arguments. Pouf was getting closer. Every second standing around was a second the king was getting closer. Yet the resolve of those around you was strong.

“Then we'll deal with him when he gets here! For now, we gotta get the girl out of here!”

Right as you said it, dozens of Poufs flew into the area. He set his sights on Komugi and flew towards her. You used your ren to give them some push back.

“Scatter! The more of these things we destroy, the weaker he'll be!”

Killua reacted first, picking up Komugi and using his God Speed to get out of there. You would have cheered him on of the situation hadn't been so dire. Knuckle and Meleoron took off next. Last was Palm and Ikalgo, who decided to help the women still trapped underground.

You were confused to see Pouf's segments only go after Killua. Flying straight at him with the intent to kill. You rushed in front, much to the ant’s dismay.

“Remember me?”

All of the segments frowned, looking over your shoulder. The ones closest to you smashed to dust.

“I'll catch and destroy every part of you!” You threatened.

His expression became manic. The segments mumbling out curses. You could faintly pick up on the muttering of one.

“First that damn girl distracts the king. Then me and Pitou's project defects to the other side. Now I gotta find some way around this human to kill Komugi!”

Everything clicked for you in that moment. Eyes widening in realization. You were frozen on the spot as a few of Pouf’s segments went last you.

‘Me and Pitou's project.’

‘I was killed...They brought me back.’

Your body shook, standing in horror at the revelation. Unawares Pouf had once again changed his course upon being unable to beat Killua. The small assassin took notice of your shell-shocked state.

“Y/n!?! What's wrong!?!” He called out.

“I've gotta…I need to…”

You willed your body to move. Head filled with a fuzzy static. If that was the case…

“Damn!” You shouted in frustration.

You were sure it sounded like you were crazy. Hurriedly getting the words out in an attempt to express how dire the situation really was.

“They're abilities work in tandem with each other! Pitou fixes the external damage and Pouf brings them back! If we want to save Kite, we need Pouf's ability! But I can't just leave you to the king!”

Killua’s blood went cold. Realizing the same thing as you. When Pitou couldn't fix Kite by themselves, Gon would lose it completely.

“Yes you can! Gon needs you right now! You have to tell him before it's too late! We're screwed if he kills Pitou after we've figured it out!” He urged you to leave.

“I can't leave you!” You doubled down.

You didn't want to lose another kid. But Killua wasn't going to budge. He couldn't knowing what was on the line.

“I won't die on you! I promise you I'll get out of here alive!”

Damn it all.

You took off in the direction Kite was being held. Pushing your legs the fastest they could go. Still it wasn't fast enough. Gliding through the terrain with ease and it still wasn't enough for you. You used as much energy as you could spare to summon your en. Sensing around for Gon and Pitou.

You thought you found him when there was an explosion of nen. Dark. So incredibly dark and filled with everything negative. Hate, Sadness, Guilt, Resignation.

You pushed yourself that much faster, suffocating the deeper you got to the center of that aura. Time seemed to freeze.

DANGER

Who was that!?!

The source of the heinous aura made a lunge for Pitou. The attack very much familiar to you. You pushed yourself as hard as you could and tackled Pitou out of the way.

It felt like your back was on fire. The blast of nen missing you by a centimeter. Still its power overwhelmed you. You rolled with the cat ant a few times. Righting yourself up to see this new enemy.

No.

It can't be.

Your expression morphed into one of terror. Hand covering your mouth and willing the vile to go down. Your body heaving and shaking.

“Gon?”

There were parts of his aura that were similar. His clothes were similar. But everything else made you want to cry. His eyes, the ones you always found a piece of her still in, had darkened to the point of unrecognition. His body was not his own.

What did he do to himself?

What curse did he place on himself to physically age himself up?

This had to be a nightmare.

He stood looming in front of you. Like a predator zoning in on its prey. You extended your arms out in defense of Pitou.

“You stopped me. Why did you stop me?”

You didn't even recognize his voice. You were scared of him. Frightened at what he might do.

“You keep defending them. Does their life really mean that much to you? More than I mean to you? After everything we've been through…” He hands clenched at his side. Unimaginable power coursing through his veins.

He was looking at you like you were less than nothing. But you couldn't back down.

“Gon, you have to trust me. You're not the only one who's hurting. You're not the only one who's angry.”

You loved Kite too.

“And it would be so easy to kill Pitou, to get this over with and say it's justice. But it's not. If you kill them, it's a path you can't come back from. You don't want this blood on your hands!”

He took a step forward.

“Please, you have to listen to me. There's another way to bring him back. Just calm down.”

You thought you'd gotten through to him. But he truly was too far gone to listen to reason.

"You're in the way. Move or I'll kill you both."

You hadn't been this scared since Father. Since your entire clan turned on you. There was no deceit in his aura. He really meant it.

You flicked your hand to the side, commanding the puppet on your shoulder to move.

“GO! GET PITOU OUT OF HERE NOW!”

You used your other puppet to block Gon’s next attack.

Your ballerina marionette’s hand morphing into a blade against Pitou's neck.

“This way now.” It instructed.

Pitou owed you a favor for saving their life. For saving Komugi’s. They let the puppet guide them back into the safehouse.

Gon’s attention was fully on you. His rage was directed towards you. And he made it known.

“Show me rock!”

You barely had enough time to dodge. With both of your puppets summoned, you were at his complete mercy.

You made a dash for the trees, hiding yourself in the foliage. Everytime he punched though one, you'd substitute with Henry last second. You didn't know how to snap him out of this.

“I know what you're going through! I've been there before! Hell, I'm still there! I know you Gon! You're not like me!”

Your energy was draining fast, yet his seemed endless. Attacking you without restraint.

“COME OUT AND FIGHT ME INSTEAD OF RELYING ON CHEAP TRICKS!”

You were crying, pleading for this kid to hear you through his pain. But your pleas continued to fall on deaf ears.

“I know this is hard! I know you've been strong for too long! Everything you've been carrying on your shoulders! But you need to hold off! You have to be willing to let Pitou live!”

He sent a surge of energy through the treetops. You evaded down…Right into his trap. His jan-ken poised and ready to crack open your skull.

You didn't have any time to substitute.

It was a miracle you slipped. The blow only barley missing your head. You were about to rebound up when a hand wrapped around your neck. You felt yourself hanging in the air.

Your lungs denied of the oxygen they desperately needed. He stared you down with unforgiving eyes.

You thought of Kari. How you were in the same position she'd been in 13 years prior. Your vision was blanking out. Mind running a thousand thoughts a minute. He was going to kill you.

He was here to kill you.

Your tears ran down your cheeks and onto his hand. The sensation miraculously catching Gon’s attention.

You were…crying?

He made you cry?

For a moment the fog cleared in his mind. He saw you. He realized what he was doing. His rageful expression at last softening. The grip around your neck went lax. He was about to let you go completely when a heavy body knocked onto his side.

You fell with a thud. A murky purple haze around your eyes. Your body curled into a defensive ball.

It was your puppet. But it was different. It's entire being surged with power. Manic, ruthless power. Its body growing and expanding to fit. It smiled with jagged teeth.

“New game: start!”

It lunged forward. Gon tried to dodge it, but it wasn't aiming for a direct hit. It made a faint slash to his side. Bouncing around with an agility that shouldn't be possible with its size to continue slashing around.

He summoned his nen into his palm once more. Shooting off a successful blast of aura at the jester. It only puffed out its chest to disperse the energy. Rebounding forward once again to continue its onslaught.

He met it with a punch, finally making contact. The jester only tutted at him. He realized his mistake too late. It clung to his arm, flashing a smile full of nothing but deranged madness. Try as he may to pry his arm free, this thing wouldn't let him go.

“We'll start out way up top and slit you right on down the spine!”

It's hand morphing into a saw blade, circling around his arm and sawing through the flesh. He could feel the warmth of his blood leaving his body.

“And then I'll sink my little fingers in to help slough off that rind!”

Articulated hands digging into the cut it made and yanking off the limb from his body. This thing was gonna kill him. And maybe a part of him wanted it to. He'd broken his promise to Kite. He'd hurt you.

But the onslaught only grew more violent.

The puppet punched its own monstrous arm through the gushing stub, preventing Gon from being able to pull back. It took a familiar stance that had his eyes widening.

“Jan-ken-rock!” It mimicked.

It was more concentrated than anything he'd ever been able to produce. Shattering every bone in his body, despite the aura protecting it.

You were a monster in every sense of the word. This was what you'd been holding back. This madness. Pure killer instinct to be the last one standing.

And still it wasn't done with him as he collapsed on the ground.

“You’re going to di-ie~ And then I'll wear your skin as a suit. It's a promise ~” It sang out.

Once again it charged up his ability, but there was less power this time.

“Nighty night little sun~”

It was toying with his body. Torturing him just enough to keep him alive. But he deserved it. He bet his life on saving Kite. It was only right he lost it for failing. At least it was you. If he had to be killed, he'd rather it be you that did it.

Funny how the one supposed to be protecting him was his undoing.

—---------------------------

Killua rushed through the forest as fast as he could. He had to warn you and Gon. Pitou could betray you two at any second. He had to get there.

His ears picked up on a thudding sound. It came again. And again. Growing louder the closer he got. He didn't know what it was. He couldn't have predicted it either.

He got to a clearing. A surge of nen lighting up the area before it was released. He ran straight ahead, freezing in horror at the sight before him.

On the ground, body broken to the point of being unrecognizable, was Gon.

On top of him was a bigger version of your puppet.

It charged up aura into its fist before slamming down. The cause of the repetitive noise.

And curled up under a tree was you.

“Y/N!” He screamed out your name.

Running towards you and shaking you. Begging you to stop. Feeling like he was in a horrible dream.

“Y/N! STOP! YOU'RE KILLING HIM!” He shrieked.

But at the feeling of something touching you, you broke out into a hysterically sob.

“NO!!!! DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T TOUCH ME!”

The last of your energy going into your cry. Body giving out completely. As soon as you'd gone comatose, the puppet disappeared. All traces of your nen did.

Killua ran over to Gon next, not bothering to hold back his cries. He was alive, but barely. His body was mangled beyond anything he'd ever seen.

What happened here?

What was he supposed to do?

The weight of his next move hung heavily on his shoulders.

Only one.

He could only save one.

He was sobbing hysterically at this point. How could you both put him in this position? How could you make him choose between you two? Who mattered more?

“...I'm so sorry Y/n. Please forgive me.” He picked up Gon, casting one last glance back.

He caught sight of a dark handprint across your neck. The indentations of fingers.

“Please forgive me. I won't be able to go on if you don't.”

Gon needed more help right now. He'd send someone to get you as soon as possible.

—------------------------

Pitou finished up the last of Kite's stitches, making sure the skin looked normal. When your puppet first led them here, they didn't understand what was wanted of them. Already having told Gon there was no use.

But your puppet was persistent. Gesturing towards the body and hissing out a ‘fix, you must fix.’

It wasn't until it said memory that Pitou understood. Fix the body so Pouf’s ability could take care of the rest. They did their best to get it done quickly. Giving out a sigh of relief when it was over.

“My job is finished here. I need to make my way back to the king.”

They took a few steps towards the exit, unable to process what happened as their vision turned upside down. The floor becoming closer and closer to their line of vision.

“We…are not merciful.” Your puppet said quietly. Little feet entering Pitou's line of sight.

“And you broke your promise…We were never going to let you live.”

It raised its foot up, completely stomping the cat ant’s head in. Putting an end to the creature that had caused so much pain.

It picked up Pitou's mangled skull, leaving it right beside the cocoon.

“For you.”

Then it disappeared along with the rest of your nen. Never to return again.

—----------------------------------------------------------

Fun Fact: There are no Fun Facts for this one.

Tags: @fandomhoe101 @justxiao @bekataylorgriggs @zellwa @rainbowpr1sm @shun-nie @snake-in-a-flower-crown

MASTERLIST

------------------------------------

An: Oh boy. Oh no. Those are my comfort characters doomed to the narrative. So uhhhh, let's talk about the slap and how the cycle of abuse is a hard one to break. Let's talk about lashing out in fear the same way Y/n was hurt because it's the only way they know how to make it stop. The only way they were taught to enact discipline. Let's talk about Gon feeling so hurt and betrayed because Y/n said they'd never hit either of them. How he never thought they'd raise their hand at him.

Oh boy, let's talk about that fight. Ah yes, my biggest inspirations: Tangled the Series’ Nothing Left to Lose, Steven Universe’s Change, specifically this cover, and Puppet History’s Pieces of You.

Let's talk about how utterly traumatizing it was for Killua to have to pick between the two people he loves the most. Let's talk him watching Y/n about to kill his best friend. Let's talk about him seeing their crushed wind wipe and knowing Gon tried to kill them too.

Let's talk about the consequences of our actions ladies and gentlemen. Let's theorize the aftermath and how things are about to get worse before they can get better.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x y/n #hunter x hunter x y/n #gon x reader #killua x reader #mayhaps a kite x reader???#big sib reader #older reader #x reader #platonic #moon and sun reader #moon and sun insert #found family

62 notes · View notes

psychemochanight · 6 months ago

Text

More HC because I forgot many :D

Part 1 :D

Again, a little disclaimer:

These are just my favorite HCs, whether made by me or by the fandom, if you don't like any of them, that's completely respectable and you obviously don't have to agree with all or any of them. If you don't like them, just ignore them please, it's not worth arguing over HC about a fictional character.

That said, here are more HC (not all of them yet, but yeah, I'll add them as I remember them):

Dick is the kind of person who is always smiling, even when there is danger. If he's not smiling and cracking jokes, he's completely serious. No one has any problem admitting that they don't want to see that Dick, because he's scary.

Dick hates hospitals, and he hates being sedated even more, even in the batcave.

Years being kidnapped, yep.

His first instinct after waking up and analyzing his situation with his senses without giving any signs of waking up, is to run immediately. If they can avoid it, they never sedate him completely, the times he jumped up from the stretcher without taking into account his injuries were enough to know better.

He sits in the weirdest positions ever.

If he pays more than five minutes of attention to his hair, it's actually wavy, almost curly, if he doesn't, it's almost straight.

He grows his hair long when he is depressed and doesn't feel like taking care of it.

He rarely gives any other signs of being depressed now, so almost no one notices it these days.

He associates aromas with different people.

Sometimes, because of the perfumes worn by his family and friends, he knows that they have been in his apartment.

Yes, he sometimes lives on cereal, but it's definitely not the only thing he knows how to prepare, he just is so tired to cook.

Canonically, in several runs cereal is, in fact, his favorite food, so- besides having a sweet tooth, it helps him stay active (sugar rush 24/7).

He canonically prefers simple, comforting foods, so, another trait of his undiagnosed AUDHD :D

Alfred and Bruce say that Dick has a child's palate, he insists that the problem is not the taste, but the texture... It doesn't help his case.

Obviously he eats healthy food, but it always has to be something simple, he finds very elaborate dishes difficult to eat.

He had a pretty hard time at galas with the fancy food the first few times, until Bruce noticed that Dick wasn't eating and started including simpler dishes on the menu.

This is also why people sometimes think he doesn't know how to cook, because he only makes simple dishes, but it's not because he doesn't know how, it's because it's the only kind of food he likes.

In fact, despite preferring sweet over salty, or even his taste for junk food, Dick is very conscious of what he eats, and always has his head counting protein, calories, sugars and other nutritional values; this way, he keeps his diet stable even if he allows himself these "whims"... when he remembers to eat.

He actually likes stuffed animals, he just doesn't have any. (DC, what are you waiting for to give this man his stuffed elephant?)

Dick is an ambivert.

I would even say that he is more introverted. Not the incorrect definition of people, who confuse introversion with being reserved, shy or not liking to socialize. but the one who needs his time alone to recharge his energy. .

When Dick met Superman, it was despite Batman's "no meta-humans" rule, and his argument when Batman was going to scold him was "he's not a meta-human, he's an alien."

Bruce had to concede the point to the kid for the loophole, and update his rule.

This depends on the run to be canon or not, but I prefer to think that Dick never actually went to school before Bruce, and it was exclusively his charisma that helped him blend in with the other children, as if he had always attended educational institutions.

Although Bruce knew Dick was intelligent, even he was surprised that he was so able to not only catch up, but excel in the educational field, considering he never attended school. More than because of Robin, it was one of his teachers the first one to call him Golden Boy, since he considered him a prodigy.

At Gotham Academy you had to take at least one language class to graduate, and it couldn't be one you already knew, but Dick already knew all the ones in the program, so he had to pretend to learn french.

One of my favorite HCs in the fandom is Dick helping out with the Watchtower's computer system, especially considering it could very well be canon (if only today's writers wouldn't forget that Dick is also an amazing hacker and not just a social skills specialist 🙄).

This mentioned, my personal HC to justify all the things that the writers leave out of the character that were once regular in him (and that now belong to his siblings), is that he himself stops making an effort in these things. When he was Robin, he was alone with Batman, so he had the obligation to not only be on par, but to fill all the spaces that Batman left, so he specialized in everything. Now that he has a full team, he no longer has the obligation to cover everything himself, so he allows himself to just continue filling the remaining spaces, mostly related to the social part (when he's not working alone, of course).

This does not mean that he no longer continues to instruct himself in those skills that his siblings have, he does, he is always learning, but he no longer has the need to demonstrate it in any way, so he just lets people even think that he is incompetent in those areas, even if it is the opposite (it helps a lot when you are underestimated on the field after all).

He invented a few insults during his time as Robin, which somehow became a real vocabulary when other heroes and later civilians started using them.

His puppy eyes are too powerful, even as an adult.

Although everyone jokes that he is old because of all his years of experience in the hero thing, Dick actually looks so young.

On a good or bad day (depending on who you ask), it even happens that people ask for his ID to confirm that he is of legal age (usually for drinking). He never knows whether to feel flattered or offended.

I decided to pretend the suit wasn't a bare-legged leotard, mostly because I like to think that the suit was actually his acrobat suit, just with the red vest on top, and since they always draw the suit with the legs part... U know.

It also depends, considering the current continuity, Dick was now born in more modern times, and the tights now usually have covered legs; but if we still place it in the 40s, then it makes more sense that the suit is like the original.

For comfort, I'll pretend that his legs aren't totally bare, also I'll pretend that he has some protection and isn't just walking around with exposed skin to get hurt, even if hitting him with a bullet must be damn difficult because he jumps as a flea.

Toe point and tiptoes, like, A LOT.

He starts babbling random facts about history or math formulas at the most random moments.

He's the kind of person who always knows the answers to people's questions about facts he doesn't really need to know.

"I wonder where the word "'macaroni' originated from"... And he just starts telling you the whole story.

(My father is like that, and I always wonder where he learned all that, my God).

He likes action series. He also likes police and mystery series, but it's a pain to watch this kind of series with him because he keeps guessing the ending and always gets it right.

He also loves black and white movies.

He likes classic rock and jazz music, but has no problem listening to other genres. He also likes pop music, although more bc he likes to annoy his brothers with it.

He is a bit obsessive compulsive, not all the time, and he doesn't have the disorder as such; but sometimes he really needs to be in control of things and follow routines (part of his AUDHD and PTSD speaking for him).

As I said before, I don't think Dick has anger issues, he's just overstimulated, but this doesn't mean he doesn't feel angry or frustrated on many occasions.

When this happens, he has two main ways to let go of his anger... The healthy way is to exercise, train or simply unload his mind while his body is in motion, he also tends to meditate on occasion.

Sometimes it's not so healthy, as he actually lets himself get hurt while training.

The unhealthy way, is to go beat up the thugs.

Sometimes he doesn't let his anger out voluntarily, and ends up exploding against those who don't deserve it. When this happens, it is almost always in verbal form.

Dick doesn't insult directly, but with the eloquence he has, he doesn't need insults to seriously hurt someone.

He can't say that he has never self-harmed, but he doesn't do it in the form of cutting himself, but rather by letting himself get hit or failing to stop particularly painful falls.

Actually, even though he doesn't have the highest self-esteem, he doesn't really have an identity crisis. It doesn't matter that he's a good actor, he never doubts who he is. He doesn't really invent personas in front of anyone, he just shows facets of his personality as appropriate (the only moments where he acts like someone he is not, there is always something of his person even in those roles).

During a certain infamous arc the identity crisis was a little more real, but he recovered from it.

Although he is an acrobat first, he still knows a lot about gymnastics, both men's and also women's actually. More for fun than for training.

Even if he miraculously has free time, instead of resting, he is probably practicing something new.

His friends swear that Dick only stays still when he's dissociating.

And that's all (for now) ✨

I've repeated some of them on purpose to make the explanation more explicit- but I hope most of them still make sense.

#dick grayson #nightwing #robin #nightwing headcanons #dick grayson headcanon #just my thoughts about dick grayson

115 notes · View notes

strayrockette · 11 months ago

Text

My Sunshine Girl: A Healing Home

Masterlist❤️Previous Part

Summary: Having Benny around changes things for the better.

Themes: Family drama, underlying grief, and finding comfort in your favorite person

A/n: I didn't realize I was writing in first person and by the time I noticed I was already too deep in the process 🤷‍♀️LMK if you wanna be part of a taglist for this series, or for all my works!!

The weeks following the fight at the bar were a blur of quiet days and slow healing. Benny had told me to stay home until the bruises and scrapes faded, though he never really explained why I needed to lay low or how he planned to smooth things over with the cops. I didn’t press him on it. I trusted him enough to just listen, even if the silence that came with being cooped up sometimes felt too heavy to bear.

I called my uncle to let him know I was taking a few weeks off, spinning some story about needing to clear out the attic and sort through old boxes that had been collecting dust since my childhood. It wasn’t a lie, exactly; the attic had been long overdue for a cleanout. But what I hadn’t expected was how many old memories would come flooding back during those quiet weeks at home.

Some days, the house felt haunted by the past—pictures of my mom tucked away in forgotten corners, trinkets from a time when life felt simpler. I’d find my old pookie bear, the one my ma had made me, and all at once, the grief would hit me hard, like no time had passed at all. I’d crumble under the weight of it, tears streaming down my face, and Benny would be right there, no questions asked. He didn’t pry when I broke down, didn’t push for explanations. He just wrapped his arms around me, letting me cry it out until the storm passed.

He was my buffer, my anchor, the one constant in a sea of emotions I wasn’t always prepared to deal with. And even on the hardest days, he made it easier just by being there.

But it wasn’t all sadness. Sometimes, between the dusting and sorting, we’d stumble onto something that would break the tension and remind me that joy still had a place in this old house. Like the day Benny found my middle school diary—tucked away in a box of yearbooks and scribbled notes, full of awkward confessions and childhood crushes. I was mortified, scrambling to snatch it out of his hands as he held it above his head, flipping through the pages with a devilish grin.

“Number one: Mr. O’Connell, your eighth-grade math teacher? Really?” Benny read aloud, his tone dripping with mock horror as I jumped, trying and failing to grab the diary back.

“Oh my god, Benny, stop!” I begged, my face burning as I reached up, but he just laughed, lifting the diary higher, making a game out of it.

“You had a thing for math, huh? Or just guys with glasses?”

I groaned, mortified but unable to keep the smile off my face. “Give it back! I swear, I’ll—”

Benny kept reading, amused at my futile attempts. I shoved a nearby box over, using it as a makeshift step stool, only for it to collapse under me, sending me tumbling to the floor. The crash echoed through the attic, and for a second, everything went silent before Benny’s laughter broke the tension, deep and infectious.

I looked up, sprawled on the floor, and started laughing too, the kind of uncontrollable, belly-aching laughter that leaves you breathless and teary-eyed for all the right reasons. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like that in this house.

We spent the rest of the day making new memories, each corner of the attic becoming less about the past and more about the here and now. Benny helped me pack away the old pain and fill the empty spaces with something lighter, something new. The house felt different by the end of those weeks, less like a museum of all the hurt I’d carried and more like a home that was ours.

Every time I looked at a corner that used to be filled with sadness, I felt gratitude instead—a quiet, blooming joy that wrapped itself around my heart. I wasn’t forgetting my mom or the pain we’d both gone through, but I was finding a way to make room for happiness too.

The midday sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting warm, golden light across the countertops as I moved around the stove. The smell of homemade tomato soup filled the air, mingling with the buttery aroma of the grilled cheese I was making for lunch. I knew Benny was supposed to be out the door over an hour ago, but here he was, his arms snug around my waist and his head resting comfortably on my shoulder. I could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing against my back, his presence grounding me in a way that made the entire world feel right.

“Weren’t you supposed to leave an hour ago?” I whispered with a giggle as he kissed the sensitive spot on my neck, his lips lingering just long enough to make my skin tingle.

Benny hummed, his voice low and lazy, full of that warmth that always sent shivers down my spine. “You’re holding me hostage,” he murmured, nuzzling into my neck like he had all the time in the world.

I scoffed, flipping the sandwich in the pan, the bread sizzling as it turned a perfect golden brown. “I hope that’s not what you’re tellin’ the boys,” I teased, trying to keep the smile off my face as his kisses grew more persistent, more playful.

“They’d believe it,” he said, his lips brushing against my skin as he grinned. “You were a sight of fear for them that night.”

I nudged him gently, still caught off guard by the way he made me feel so seen, so known. “No way they fear me,” I said, laughing at the absurdity of it. The idea of those big, greasy, tattooed men being scared of someone like me was ridiculous. I was a lot of things, but intimidating wasn’t one of them—not to them, at least.

Benny chuckled softly, his voice a warm rumble that I felt all the way to my bones. “You were a force,” he said, and I could hear the pride mixed with amusement in his tone. “Five women tried to pull you off, and you broke through them—teeth, nails, and limbs flying everywhere. Like a little monkey.”

I gasped, feigning offense as I pushed him back playfully, though his hold on me didn’t loosen. “Rude!” I scolded, my cheeks warming as I turned the sandwich again, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the way his words made my heart race.

Benny laughed, the sound deep and peaceful, wrapping around me like a favorite song. “I never want to think about that night ever again,” I sighed, shaking my head at the memory. I’d gone to the bar looking for some fun, but it had turned into anything but that. “Eat your grilled cheese and leave me alone, Benny Cross. You’ve made enough rude comments for one day.”

He dipped lower, his lips brushing my cheek, then my jaw, peppering soft kisses along my skin until I was practically squirming from the attention. “I’m waiting,” he murmured, his voice smooth as honey, and I knew he was enjoying every second of this.

“Your plate was already made,” I said, my tone dripping with disbelief as I tried to keep my composure. I pointed to the counter where his sandwich and soup were sitting, perfectly plated and ready to eat. “Right there.”

“For you,” he whispered against my ear, his hands roaming my sides in a slow, soft caress that sent jolts of pleasure through me. He was relentless, every touch deliberate, every kiss a gentle tease that made it hard to think straight.

I bit down on the wave of heat that spread through me, refusing to give in completely. “If I hear someone make a comment about me keepin’ you hostage the next time I’m at the bar, I swear I’m chucking an 8-ball at ‘em,” I warned, trying to sound stern, but my voice came out breathless, betraying the effect he had on me.

Benny grinned, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Let ‘em talk, Sunshine. You’ve got nothing to prove.” His hands continued their slow exploration, skimming over my hips and up my back, a mix of comfort and desire that made my knees weak. “Besides, I like being held hostage by you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and free, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. “Yeah, well, you better behave,” I said, turning just enough to look at him, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or I might just let you go.”

He pulled me closer, his grip firm but tender, holding me in place as he looked down at me with that lazy, cocky smile I’d grown to love. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” he said, his voice low and rough, filled with something deeper than just teasing. “I’m right where I wanna be.”

I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body and the comfort of his words wrap around me like a blanket. His stubble tickled along my neck with each kiss he placed. I shivered and inched away from him with a giggle, "At least let me finish plating my dish."

He grumbled as he stepped away, grabbed his plate, and moved to sit at the table. I glanced over my shoulder and found him staring intently at me, his eyes dark and.. "Oh my gosh, Benny, are you pouting??" I squealed, "I'm so telling-"

My teasing quietened as a rapid knock broke our moment. The knock wasn’t just loud—it was aggressive, rattling the walls with an urgency that made my heart jump. Benny stood up from the table, his easy smile fading as the tension in the air thickened. I watched as he walked to the door, his shoulders squared and ready for whatever trouble was waiting on the other side. I barely heard the door open before a booming voice echoed,

“Where is she?”

Uncle Harold boomed, his voice filling every corner of the room. Benny instantly stepped in front of him, his stance protective and his jaw clenched tight. I could feel the anger radiating off Harold in waves, each word landing like a blow.

“You need to back off, Harold,” Benny said, his voice edged with warning as he kept his body between me and my uncle. “You can’t just come in here like this.”

But Harold was past listening. He shoved Benny aside, his eyes searching the room until they found me, just as I stepped around the corner from the kitchen. I froze, the intensity of his glare pinning me in place. Benny quickly moved to close the door behind Aunt Gina and stepped in front of me, blocking my uncle’s line of sight. His broad back was a shield between me and the onslaught of Harold’s rage.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice shaky but defiant. I tried to look around Benny, but he held his ground, his presence a firm line of defense.

Harold’s face was twisted with anger, his fists clenched as he pointed at me. “You’ve got this boy living in your mama’s house!” he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “And I’ve got Old Man Harry telling me you’ve got a bunch of Vandals vouching that you weren’t in a fight when six women described you in detail!”

The words hit like a slap, the sheer force of his anger pressing down on me, but as his accusations rang out, something inside me snapped.

Benny glanced back at me, his eyes searching mine, but he didn’t move from his spot in front of me. He was there, steady and unflinching, even as the storm raged on. “Harold, you need to calm down,” Benny said, his voice low and tense. “She doesn’t need this from you.”

I stepped around Benny, frustration boiling over. “DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF RIGHT NOW?” I yelled, my voice trembling with fury and years of bottled-up hurt. “You used to be a biker too! You still have your bike! You know what that life is like!”

“That’s different,” Uncle Harold snapped, his anger flaring again as he tried to reel himself back, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

“No, it’s not!” I shot back, my voice breaking. “When you met Aunt Gigi, you’d just gotten out of jail! She still gave you a chance. She saw something in you that no one else did. How is it any different for me and Benny?”

Harold’s face tightened, his anger battling with the guilt that flickered briefly in his eyes. “It’s different because your mama made me promise,” he said, his voice straining, shaking with unspoken grief. “She made me promise that I’d protect you. I gave her my word that I’d be the father you needed.”

Pain gripped my chest, sharp and unforgiving. My throat tightened as I tried to hold back the emotions that threatened to swallow me whole. “Don’t bring her into this!” I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of it all. The mention of my mom felt like a knife, twisting deep. The hurt was suffocating, choking me with memories of promises I never asked for.

Harold’s face contorted with pain and fury, his voice shaking as he continued. “You’re running around with this boy, getting into trouble, doing things you shouldn’t. You aren’t the little girl we raised.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself, but the grief and anger were a tidal wave, pulling me under. I tried to step around Benny, desperate to confront my uncle face-to-face, but Benny’s arm shot out, his hand gently tucking me behind him. His body was a shield, protecting me even when I was ready to charge headfirst into the fire.

“Harold, enough,” Benny said, his voice like steel, unyielding and protective. “You don’t get to judge her. You don’t get to make her feel small.”

I peeked around Benny, the tears burning in my eyes as I stared at my uncle. “You never knew me,” I said, my voice cracking with the raw truth I’d kept buried for years. “Because the little girl you raised was broken, scared and angry. You never saw that, did you? You never saw how hard it was to keep it together, how much I was hurting.”

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken pain. Aunt Gina stepped closer, her face etched with sadness as she watched me unravel. “Sunny, we’re just trying to help,” she said softly, her voice a calm presence amidst the chaos. “We love you. We don’t want to see you get hurt.”

But I was too far gone, too tangled up in my own grief and anger to let the words soothe me. “I know you love me,” I said, my voice trembling as I fought to keep control. “But you don’t get to decide what’s best for me anymore. You don’t get to come in here and throw around all your guilt and promises like they’re weapons.”

Harold’s face fell, the anger draining away, leaving only the hollow ache of regret. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time, he looked at me not with fury, but with a kind of desperate sorrow. “I’m scared, Sunny,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared I’m failing her. Failing you. I don’t want to lose you.”

The admission hit me harder than any of his accusations. I could see the guilt and fear that mirrored my own, the weight of promises made in grief and love and uncertainty. But this wasn’t just about him, and it wasn’t about my mom. It was about me.

I took a shaky step forward, Benny’s hand still resting on my shoulder, grounding me. “You’re not failing me,” I said, my voice softening as the anger ebbed away, replaced by something gentler. “But you’ve got to let me live. You’ve got to trust me to make my own choices, even if they’re messy.”

Aunt Gina reached out, squeezing Harold’s arm, her touch a quiet anchor pulling him back. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that was heavy and old, and nodded slowly. “We just want you to be happy,” she said, her voice choked with the weight of everything left unsaid.

“I am happy,” I whispered, looking up at Benny, who watched me with those steady eyes that had been my rock through it all. “Because I’m finally living for me.”

Uncle Harolds expression softened, the lines of his face deepening as he looked at me, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own failures. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his voice breaking with raw vulnerability. It wasn’t just an apology for tonight, but for everything—for every time he’d let his anger and grief overshadow his love for me.

Harold bowed his head, the pain etched deep into his features, and without another word, he turned away, his broad, hulking figure seeming smaller, more fragile as he walked toward the door. He moved slowly, like he was dragging the weight of the world behind him, every step heavy with the sorrow of a man who’d tried to do right but hadn’t always known how.

Aunt Gina lingered for a moment, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and quiet reassurance. She reached out, squeezing my arm gently, her touch warm and grounding. “We’re still here, Sunny,” she said softly, her voice laced with a kind of fierce love that made my chest ache. “No matter what, we’re still here for you.”

I nodded, feeling the sting of tears that I refused to let fall. “I know,” I whispered, my voice catching as I met her gaze. “Thank you.”

Gina gave me a soft, reassuring smile, the kind that spoke of years of shared memories, both good and bad. She glanced at Benny, her expression shifting to something like cautious hope, and then back at me, her eyes full of unspoken promises. She turned to follow Harold, her footsteps light but purposeful, and with one last look, she stepped through the door, closing it softly behind her.

With the door closed and my aunt and uncle finally gone, the weight of their words hung heavy in the air, settling deep into my bones. The playfulness of our earlier mood had completely vanished, replaced by something darker and more somber. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling lost, unsure of what to do with myself as the emotional turmoil that always seemed to follow me crept back in. I had thought I’d managed to escape it these past few weeks, hiding in the warmth of Benny’s company, but now it was back, clawing at me with a vengeance.

I sniffed, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat, the familiar sting of tears threatening to break free again. “I need a nap,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Benny, my gaze fixed on the stairs as I rushed past him, desperate to get away, to hide from the flood of emotions crashing over me.

I stumbled into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me and collapsing onto the bed. I curled up into a tight ball, pulling the blankets around me as if they could shield me from everything swirling inside my head. My uncle’s voice echoed, relentless and unforgiving, each word like a dagger twisting deeper. ‘I promised your ma I’d take care of you.’ The guilt, the pressure, the overwhelming sense of being a disappointment—it all wrapped around me, suffocating and relentless.

I buried my face into the pillow, my chest tightening with each shaky breath as I tried to keep it together. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, hot and uncontrollable, spilling over as I silently sobbed into the fabric. The pain of my past, the weight of everyone’s expectations—it was too much. All the anger, the sadness, and the unresolved grief came rushing back, drowning me in a wave of emotions I didn’t know how to handle.

I didn’t hear Benny come in, but I felt the bed dip as he sat beside me, his presence a quiet, grounding force that I hadn’t realized I was desperate for. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask me to talk or try to pry me open. He simply wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, his body fitting around mine like a protective shield. I felt his head nestle into the crook of my neck, his breath warm and steady against my skin.

He didn’t let go, didn’t pull back when I tensed, just held me tighter, his arms firm and unyielding. Benny’s embrace was like an anchor, something solid and real in the middle of my storm. His touch was gentle, each stroke of his thumb against my shoulder a silent reassurance that I wasn’t alone, that I didn’t have to carry all of this by myself. I felt the trembling in my body start to ease, the frantic beating of my heart slowly matching the calm, even rhythm of his.

Benny’s presence was more than just comforting; it was life-saving. He grounded me in a way that nothing else could, pulling me back from the edge of my own despair. The panic, the guilt, all the things I kept locked away—they didn’t feel so unbearable with him there, holding me through it. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the tension slowly begin to drain from my muscles.

He kissed my shoulder softly, his lips brushing against my skin in a gesture so gentle it almost broke me all over again. I felt the tears well up once more, but this time they were softer, less frantic, as if Benny’s presence was slowly unwinding the tight knot of pain inside me. I turned slightly, pressing my face into his chest, breathing him in—the scent of leather, smoke, and something uniquely his that always made me feel safe.

“I’ve got you,” Benny whispered, his voice low and hushed, like a secret meant only for me. His hand moved up to cup the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair as he held me close. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the words breaking through my defenses in a way that nothing else had. Benny didn’t try to fix me, didn’t pretend that he could make everything better, and that was exactly what I needed. He was just there, unconditionally, holding me as I broke down, no judgment, no expectations—just a quiet, unwavering support that made me feel like maybe I could keep going, even when everything felt impossible.

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my eyes puffy and wet, but his gaze was soft and full of something that made my heart ache. I saw the way he looked at me—not with pity, but with an understanding that went deeper than words. He brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the last of my tears, and I felt the flood of emotion rise up again, but this time it was different, warmer.

“I love you,” I whispered, the confession spilling out before I could second-guess it. It was raw and unguarded, the truth laid bare in the quiet space between us. For the first time, it didn’t feel scary to say. It felt right.

Benny’s face softened, and a smile tugged at his lips, gentle and filled with a quiet joy that made my heart flutter. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes closing as he let the words sink in. “I love you, too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you know.”

I melted into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as he held me tighter, his embrace a sanctuary from the world outside. The chaos, the pain, my uncle’s harsh words—they all faded into the background, replaced by the steady, calming presence of Benny beside me. I buried my face against his chest, letting myself be small and vulnerable, knowing that with Benny, I didn’t have to be anything but myself.

Taglist: @storiesfromafan@aleemendoza2425-blog , @preciouslilmonster , @iamaslytherin0

#benny cross #benny cross imagine #benny the bikeriders #benny x y/n #benny x you #benny x reader #benny cross fic #benny cross bikeriders #benny cross the bikeriders #austin butler #benny cross x y/n #benny cross x reader #benny cross x oc

104 notes · View notes