#A Desire to be Wanted ♞♡♝ Asch x Sync

[azotas]

@acquaintedfates​ asked:

“  don’t look at me like that.  ” - asch to sync

Fingers curl into the black tabard tightly, anything to stop the way his fingers shook. What was the look on his face that Asch couldn’t stand? Eyes narrow as he focuses a bit harder on the wound beneath his free hand trying to force the seventh fonon to heal it. To please heal it! The sight of blood on the ground has his gut twisting with disgust. 

“Shut up, Idiot! Think of this as punishment for letting yourself get hurt.” Tears roll down his cheeks and drip onto Asch’s chest as he keeps going. There is so much blood, it makes him sick. If only he was better. If only he was faster!  “Don’t you think on dying! If you die then what was the point of struggling all these years!? Who will defeat Van!?” 

“I need you!” A quick and blurted selfish notion and thought that only makes the disgusting tears come out a little faster, and his hands to tremble a little more. How unlike him this was. To show his selfishness, his want to have something despite his unworthiness to do so. 

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@soaringmiracles​:

“A Date??” The word feels foreign to him in this context. Asch wanted to go on a date with him. He pauses before nodding his head. One sick day, he could get away with that. “Just give me a moment to change.” He should have something to wear that was like civilian clothes. 

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💔 gimme angst

Send me a 💔 and I’ll generate a number, 1-75, and post a starter based on what scenario I get.  || Accepting 

35: My muse dies in your muse’s arms.

How many times had he said those words, spoke of his hope to die? Before this twisted bond had formed around him like a noose, he had said it often. But afterward, after the warmth of someone caring about him, he found living bearable. To be treated like a person who had emotions, wants, and dreams were something he couldn’t get enough of. The little warm touches or gentle gestures were enough for him. In a world that rejected his very existence, he found solace in the man who had lost his spot in it. Asch had given him everything he had wanted, even the things he didn’t know about.

So that’s why…

That’s why he doesn’t regret throwing his life on the line in order to save him. 

His chest feels like it was on fire and his arms felt even worse. But he laughs a little at it, despite everything his body couldn’t handle daathic artes at full power. When he stumbles, he can’t help but smile at the arm catching him and the anger in his voice. Anger trying to cover up how Asch really must have felt about it. Sync keeps laughing softly, watching little blobs of seventh fonons float off his body.

So he was dying again.

“I told you, you need to stop rushing forward like that, I always get stuck cleaning up after you.” He smiles despite the feeling clawing so roughly at his chest. Was this emotion grief? Regret? It’s too late for that, his fonons were fading too quickly to stop them. 

Fingers curled around his mask one last time as he placed it over Asch’s face. If Asch cried, Sync didn’t know what he’d do. It was bad enough hearing the redhead yelling at him for being stupid and to stay. Asch looks stupid with the mask, drawing a chuckle from him as he presses closer, just wanting to feel his warmth one last time as his senses begin to fade. 

“Thanks for making the last few months worth living.” Maybe those words were good enough. Maybe dying to protect someone wasn’t really a bad way to go.

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❣️ - Asch

Mess with a grouchy trash boy ❣️

All he was doing was following behind Asch, looking around every so often till he crashed into the other’s back, snickering slightly at the red head’s yelp as his mask dug into the back of his neck.

“If you didn’t want to accidentally get stabbed, you shouldn’t have stopped.” A small laugh as he looked up, growing when he noticed the weird little green thing in the door way. Mistletoe.

Eyes brightened ever so slightly as he watched Asch turn to face him. Part of him wonders if the older teen had done this on purpose just for an excuse. Sync watched as Asch took the mask off his face, the way his cheeks darkened as he held the golden bird mask in his hands. The Replica only grins as wrapped his arms around Asch’s waist and pulling him as close as physically possible.

“Chickening out already?” A snicker as he pressed a small kiss just below Asch’s jawline, humming before hitting down lightly, then a bit rougher when the swordsman tugged on his hair. When he pulls back, all he does is smile up at him. “If you don’t like it, then start kissing me or I’ll make your neck redder than the berries on the mistletoe.”

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@firesongtales​

He doesn’t know why he does it, he just does. A small little smirk upon his lips as he ate the bit of stolen food. “What’s wrong, Asch~?” A snicker as he quickly went to steal another piece with his fork. 

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seven minutes ~ Asch

11: Needy Hungry Kiss

To say he wasn’t excited when he ended up in the closet with Asch would be lying. He only played this foolish game out of morbid curiosity. Those around his physical age seemed to like playing these sorts of games, he couldn’t help but wonder. His ending up with Asch was just a very happy coincidence. 

As the door closed, engulfing them into darkness, the green-haired teen quickly pulled his mask off. Gloved fingers latched quickly onto Asch’s tabard and yanking the swordsman close. Seven minutes wasn’t a whole lot of time, but Sync prided himself on time management and didn’t waste any time in pushing Asch against the wall and connecting their lips. He hadn’t realized until their lips were pressed together, how much he had been hoping this would happen. How much he craved the attention only Asch gave him. The way Asch’s arms wrapped around him, one hand moving up the back of his neck and curling into his hair and the other holding his close, it was almost too much. 

Almost.

Lips curled playfully as he pulled back, still close enough to feel the other’s breath on his lips. One hand reached upwards, taking hold of the crimson locks that rested against the other’s chest and gave them a rough albeit playful yank. 

“What’s wrong, Asch?” A snicker as he pressed their foreheads together. Fingers curled the red hair carefully, twirling it around his fingers before giving it another yank. And before Asch could yell at him for messing around, he pressed their lips together once more. 

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Make Asch feel things

2: Your muse has lost all memory of mine

“Who are you?”

The words echo in his head as he stared dumbfounded at the other. This had to be a joke- but the look in Asch’s eyes tells him more than he needed to know. There was no recognition or warmth he had grown accustomed to, just an ice-cold disregard like when they had met two years prior. So... Asch lied to him. Everything up until now... was all for nothing. A step back as those emotions begin crushing him, choking him like a noose but without the promise of release.

“... 5th commander of the Oracle Knights, Sync the Tempest...” He was forgettable... replaceable. Even the person that gave him hope for the future had snuffed it out entirely. “I’ll be taking my leave.”

Fingers curled around the knob of the door, granting escape for the replica. It was so hard to breathe like the noose was getting tighter and tighter. The moment the door shut, he turned and ran, far and fast to escape the emotions that were dragging him down. 

No one wants me. No one will care anymore. Those thoughts were like knives to his dying heart. He should have never opened himself up... in the end, he only ended up losing and getting hurt. Going to his room, he slammed the door shut. There was so much anger and hurt feeling him up, tearing him apart and breaking him down. 

“...I hate you... I hate myself for letting me fall into naive emotions like this.” Stepping towards his window, he climbed outside, sitting on the ledge and letting the gentle breeze try and ease all the pain inside him.

You’re nothing but a replica, what made you think anyone would unconditionally care? You were nothing but a passing phase forgotten and ignored so easily.

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℧: a damp towel against flushed, feverish skin - Asch

Being sick reminded him of things he rather not think of. The gnawing fear that he might have been weak and sick to begin with, it was a scary thought. Of the almost three years Sync had been alive, this was the second time he’s ever been sick. The first was right after the fonic glyphs and been placed over his body. 

Eyes slowly peered open whe he felt something pressing against his skin. A soft and content hum left his lips at the cool sensation. Slowly he reached his bare hand out to hold Asch’s, giving a small smile.  It was his fault to begin with, so Asch looking so worried was uncalled for. Green hues closed again, just relaxing and letting Asch take care of him. It was nice, knowing someone cared enough to be here, to make sure he was comfortable.

“‘M fine. Just a cold. Be better tomorrow,” he mumbled, curling a bit more into the blankets. His body felt weaker than he’d ever feel comfortable with, but he didn’t feel any worry. Asch was here, so he felt safe.  

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Brush - From Asch

A gloved touch pushed long strands of green hair from in front of his eye, taking each chance to touch just a little longer than it should. The warmth of his hand as it pressed gently against his cheek, the fingers curling around his ear. Then the touch was over; before he could even think, his hand shot out to take hold of Asch’s. Despite the embarrassment flooding his chest and coloring his pale cheeks an even brighter shade of red, he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

Sync hates feeling hot; burning heat made him remember things he rather forget. The heat that fills his chest; it draws the breath of his lungs. It was a feeling he was beginning to long for each and every moment. The way such a little touch would seize his heart. The way Asch looked at him as if he was the only person there, with a feeling in those eyes that he was afraid to place. This feeling he felt too was one he never knew before either.

Was this the feeling people called love? He knew the definition; perhaps it fits the emotion, the warmth swelling in his chest had him hold that hand a little tighter. This feeling was deep: larger than him, it was all for Asch and no one else.

“... I.... think I love you..” The words were said softly, hesitantly. Sync still couldn’t look away despite how much he wanted to, nor could he let go of the hand in his own. This feeling that was burning in his chest, consuming him whole with a searing heat, Sync couldn't hate it. 

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👀 "Tell me all of your favorite things?" - Asch

“Weirdo. But fine.” A sigh as he thought it over. Favorite things? He didn’t have a whole lot of those. “I like books about tactics and psychology. My favorite food is... Shrimp stir fry with rice... with a sweet sauce instead of spicy.” Daath was an island so seafood was plentiful. This was embarrassing, he didn't see why Asch needed to know these things. “I guess I like playing chess?”

This was painful. “... Coffee is nice when it's cold and without anything in it really.” A frown as he looked away. What else... Asch seemed to want to know so badly. “I like birds. The peregrine falcon would be my favorite, I guess. They are really fast when they dive. Ravens are cool too, they can mimic sounds are smart.” 

“Can I stop now?”

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👀 why in the world do you like Asch?

“...I hate you for taking advantage of this.” He had a feeling who this might be. A huff as he looked away, arms crossing over his chest.

“He makes me feel wanted... and treats me like a person...” Was that a bad reason to like someone? Sync didn’t know. This was the first time he had felt that way about anything. 

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Shield from Asch

There was a feeling he had known for a very long while as he watched Asch fall back, blood oozing out from his wound, it was called rage. Then there was the other feeling that was just below it, almost choking him.  Eyes shifted to Asch before he lurched forward to hold him, protect him, pull him close before the enemy could finish him off.

"Don't you fucking touch him!" Vision blurred with unacknowledged tears as he shifted his weight, holding Asch in one arm and slamming his free hand into the ground. No matter how it' hurt, no matter how much stress it'd put on his body, Sync didn't care. He'd destroy them all. Nothing would be left but beath and decay.

The fonic glyph burned bright, spreading out as wide as the teen could force it. They'd all die now. Despite the screams of pain, the death and blood, the feeling in his chest didn't fade. Green hues settled on Asch, focusing on the injury.

"....You fucking Idiot!" he hissed, trying to heal it up with first aid. His hands shook as he kept using the simple healing spell over and over again.  Please don't die, don't leave me. Something was rolling down his cheeks as he kept vainly trying to heal Asch's wound. How could something only meant to hurt... ever be able to bring healing.

Fingers wrapped around the bands on his arm as he yanked them off and started to wrap the wound up. "...Just... hold on, okay?" He hated how scared his voice came out...

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❛ I wish you would be honest with yourself about what you want. ❜ - Asch

“Which part of me should I listen to?” A small frown as he held the other’s gaze, unfaltering with that and his honest words. “The part of me that says I’m better off dead or the part of me that..” A frown as he broke that gaze, casting his eyes anywhere but the other’s face. He didn’t have these thoughts... thoughts of a future he had thrown away because he had deemed it hopelessly and utterly damned. But now, that once dead hope had slowly grown back. And it was all Asch’s fault.

“Even if I wanted to-” a frown as he looked back up “-live. I don’t want it to be just because you want me.” He needed more. Something to put what Van had made him into use. He was utterly hopeless without the role he had been given. What could a replica made into a weapon even do? “It doesn’t matter what I want. The only way I’d live is if Van destroyed this world. Otherwise...”

Despite giving an answer, Sync kept going, the world leaving his mouth as he honestly spoke his thoughts, his reasons for why he couldn’t let himself want to live. “If... When you defeat Van, how is anything going to change? I’m dead regardless and you should know that. Kimlasca will pardon your crimes.” But they won’t pardon mine... Asch was to be their king. And in that future, there was no place for him. There would never be any place for him. Not by Asch’s side, not by anybody. He was truly just an outsider. “Don’t forget. Replicas don’t have rights. Originals hate us, I’ll just fuel that fire even more as a Replica that sought to destroy the world.” At most, he’d be executed... at least he’d be confined to Daath. What future was that? It was death or being caged up like some animal. 

“Even if I’m honest with myself. Nothing is going to change, Asch. I didn’t pin you to be naive as to think my choices and wants would ever amount to anything!” A growl as began raising his voice, anger flooding over him. “This isn’t some fucking fairytale where everything works out all pretty because it would be nice.” Fingers curled tightly into fist, shoulders shaking as the teen’s own frustration began bubbling over even more as logic proved to him just how hopeless his future- his existence- truly was. “I don’t even know if my body will stay together after you beat Van!” He was only alive- if what he was doing could be called living- because  Van used Lorelie to knit his busted body back together again. “It doesn’t matter if I want to live or not, Asch! I’m going to die regardless! The best I can do is die on my own terms!” That's all he could do. Sync refused to die like a dog.

A breath as he just went slack, eyes looking to the ground as he laughed weakly. Asch could be so cruel sometimes. “...So just stop... Don’t you think I’ve thought this through enough?”

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❛ Shh, you're okay. ❜ ; Asch

Shoulders shook as he felt a hand running across his hair, gentle and soothing. The touch was different from the touches that just haunted his dreams. A bare hand curled tightly into cloth covering his chest. The memories still fresh in the young replica’s head. 2 years ago Van had carved into his body... branding him a tool. 

Fingers released from his shirt; finding something else to latch onto, the back of Asch’s shirt. It felt childish... clinging to Asch, hiding in the other's chest, but he didn't care. 

"I just want the pain to stop." A choked and desperate plea as the teen hid from the other's gaze. Sync knew it wouldn't. As long as he was alive, as long as he had this glyph covered body, he'd never know what it'd feel like to not hurt.

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