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dragonsoftheeast · 2 years

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if I had a voice, I would sing

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Thorunn and Ivar, through the years.

Written for the @vikingsevents Summer Solstice Challenge, Day 1: Meadow

“How blue are Ivar’s eyes today?” Aslaug asks, and Ivar opens his eyes wide for Ubbe to check.

“Very blue,” he reports.

“Then you must not train today,” Aslaug says, caressing his cheek.

It is the third straight week she has said this, and Ivar finds it doubtful that she will ever relent. He must watch from the sidelines yet again, pointing out his brother’s mistakes. Even Siggy has a small shield now.

Hvitserk takes the opportunity to steal from Ubbe’s plate.

Ubbe pulls up the cart. This is the part where Ivar will lift his arms up, and he will put him into the cart, and he will drag him along so that he can watch them train.

This time, when his brother reaches under his armpits, he screams.

“Ubbe!” Aslaug scolds, rushing over to comfort him.

She rubs his chest and tries to lift him.

“No!” He screams again. “No, no!”

Aslaug sighs, and rubs at her eyes.

He struggles out of his chair, pushing aside worried hands- all except Sigurd, because of course Sigurd wouldn't be worried about him.

Ivar the Boneless, whose great deed is living by the grace of his mother, falls to the ground like a worm.

As he crawls, there is nothing great about Ivar. But he crawls, because it is the only thing he can do, and if it is the choice between two humiliations, then he will choose the one that is on his own terms.

It is more exhausting than he expects. As soon as he is out of the line of sight of his family, he allows himself to breath as raggedly as he likes.

The dead weight of his legs drags him down, and yet he can feel the pain of them, the scrapes of his useless knees. His pants are ruined- not that that has ever been a concern for him, his mother will surely replace them on the morrow- and his hands are caked in dirt.

He carries on, and drags himself to the other side of the hall. He sits up, and leans against the wall, watching people pass by.

It is there that his brother’s wife finds him.

“What are you doing here, young Ivar?” Thorunn asks. Siggy is not with her. Most likely she is with his brothers, learning how to block and push with their small shields, learning how to strike with their small swords.

Without him. All of them, without him.

“Go away,” he says.

To his surprise, she does not immediately obey him.

“Does your mother know you here?” She asks, unconcerned.

“No.” The word escapes his lips against his will. “Please do not tell her.”

“Of course not.” She cocks her head. “I thought you would be training with your brothers.”

He glares down at his useless legs in response. He hopes their reality will make her uncomfortable; he already expects the sight of them to drive her away. But instead, she tilts her head and looks him in the eye.

“Ah. That explains why you are so angry.”

“I am not angry.” He seethes through his teeth.

She scoffs. “Of course you are angry. You are a slave to your body.”

He snarls, exposing his baby teeth. “I am no slave.”

"Perhaps not. But you lack choices. In my eyes, that makes you a slave."

He has no cutting comment for that, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“Do you want to learn how to fight?” She asks him, after an uncomfortable pause.

What a stupid question, he thinks.

“Of course I do.”

“Then you deserve to learn.” She crosses her arms. “Do you want me to carry you or do you want to crawl?”

“I want to crawl,” he says. “Where are we going?”

“To your first lesson.”

That is the first time she takes him to the meadow.

---

The lessons are slow-going, at first. There is quite a bit of trial and error.

For one, they must sneak away to the meadow, and there is not much he can do to hide himself from his watchful mother.

She starts him out on a stool, and teaches the most important lesson: how not to get hit.

They quickly rule out him ever using a shield. His balance is precarious enough to start with, and he cannot shift it for defense.

Ivar must make up for the lack of a shield with devastating offense, she decides. It is a similar fighting style to Bjorn’s, but where Bjorn uses hammering blows from above, Ivar will use his lower vantage point to surprise his opponents. Every party must be quickly turned to counterattack, every dodge must become a way to get inside an enemy's defenses.

After two weeks of lessons, he comes wearing gloves that allow his fingers to peek through, with bands around his forearms. His pants are thicker, too, and he has tied his legs together.

“Floki says that if I am to crawl everywhere, I should have a new pair of shoes,” he says cheerfully.

He has to adjust to holding the weapon with these new gloves.

It doesn’t take long for them to be crusted in mud.

---

“So this is how you have been spending your days, wife,” Bjorn says, leaning against a tree. “Making new memories in this meadow, hm?”

Thorunn snorts, smacking his shoulder. His brother laughs, clearly pleased with himself, and tugs on one of her braids.

Ivar pipes up, not happy to be left out. It happens to him far too often.

"I am learning to fight, Bjorn. She is teaching me."

“Should I be worried?” He asks her.

“Yes,” Ivar answers for her. “I will become a greater warrior than you. I will surpass you in all things.”

His eyebrows go up in a comical shock. “I should be careful, Thorunn. All my brothers aim to defeat me.”

"I would protect you," She says, "And Siggy would avenge you."

"Vengeance is the domain of sons, not daughters," Ivar says, irritated at how laughable they find this scenario to be.

“I must make do with what I have,” his brother says, completely unbothered by him. “But my father once told me that a father may be jealous of his sons, but a daughter will always be a light in your life.”

Ivar cannot help but think, what does Ragnar have to be jealous of?

“That’s enough rest,” Thorunn says. “Bjorn, you should go against him, since he intends to surpass you.”

She steps back as they ready their weapons.

Ivar has always known that his brother has possessed fearsome strength, but it is another matter entirely to face it himself.

Each of his swings is a hammer-blow, and it is all he can do to block against him.

The meadow rings with the song of steel, his desperate yells, until his brother binds their swords together and shoves, hard, knocking him to the ground.

His brother looks down at him, appraisingly. Ivar lifts his chin up, baring his teeth in feral defiance.

“You have learned well, brother,” Bjorn tells him, lifting him back onto the stump. “I would be honored to fight beside you one day.”

It feels like the highest praise.

---

Ivar parries Thorunn’s strike, barely shifting on his stump.

“That’s good,” she says, patting the length of her sword. “But you must be stronger with your counterattack.”

He nods, and prepares for another series of strikes.

She lifts her sword again, and attacks.

“What are you doing?”

She flinches out of reflex, while her young pupil merely stares.

Aslaug, hands covering her mouth, rushes to his side. Sigurd smugly looks on.

Thorunn’s mouth gapes in shock. She never thought Aslaug would make her way out here, but she should have known better. Aslaug would walk through fire for her beloved son.

“She’s teaching me, Mother.” Ivar has always been willful, but his defiance rarely comes this calmly.

“You could have gotten hurt.” Aslaug fusses over her youngest, checking him for bruising or broken bones.

Sigurd looks vaguely disappointed- but not surprised- by this turn of events.

“What were you thinking?” Aslaug whips her head around to Thorunn. Her kohl is smeared around her eyes, as if she’d been interrupted while applying it. Her eyes are murderous.

She knocks over a cup on the table, spilling wine.

What were you thinking?

She tangles her mistress’ hair with numb fingers.

What were you thinking?

She knocks the loom with her hip, causing a mistake.

What were you thinking?

No. You are a free woman now. She is no longer your mistress.

Thorunn pulls herself to her full height. Not as tall as Aslaug, but enough to look her in the eyes.

“He needs protection, yes, but he deserves choices. If Ivar wants to fight, then he should.”

She catches herself bracing for the slap. Certainly the bristling rage in Aslaug’s eyes always seemed to foretell that. Her body has still not forgotten slavery.

You are free, she repeats to herself, you are free.

She keeps her eyes away from her former mistress’ twitching hand. She will look her in the eyes.

You are free. You are free. You are free.

"Is this what you want, Ivar?" Aslaug asks, turning away from her.

"Yes, Mother," he says, blue eyes blazing.

"Then there is no doubt you will surpass even your father," She says, and turns to leave, Sigurd tramping behind her.

Once she is out of sight, Thorunn picks up her sword again.

"Let us return to our practice," She says, hiding the trembling of her fingers in the strength of her grip.

---

Once the two of them can practice openly, all things become easier.

Ivar comes up with a design so that his hand-axes have spikes on the handles, to make it all the more easy to crawl. He describes it to the blacksmith, hands flying.

He can fight with his brothers now. He is on a level where he can put them to a draw- with no small amount of dirty tricks. He can be with them on the training grounds.

But he prefers to learn from Thorunn, and the meadow, away from curious eyes. But also because she is much more willing to entertain his wilder ideas, and experiment.

“What if I was able to attack from below? On the ankles, or the knees?”

“You would be too easily trampled,” she says, frowning. “The front line would not be your place.”

“My brothers could throw me at the enemy,” he suggests. “Break their lines, and surprise them.”

Her eyes narrow, unsure if this is a legitimate suggestion.

His cheeky grin says otherwise.

“Tch,” she scoffs. “They would certainly be surprised.”

Thorunn tells him of Bjorn’s dream of the Mediterranean.

“I know already,” he says, with no small amount of childish pride. “Floki told me. That is why he is designing a new boat, as he did for my father.”

There it is, that slightest twist of the mouth, when he mentions his father. She never brings him up, not like any of the other members of the family.

“You knew my father, didn’t you?” Ivar asks her.

“Not very well,” she says. “I was only his slave.”

He cannot imagine his mentor as a slave. Ubbe has mentioned it of her before, so he knows that it is true. But he has never known her as anything other than a free woman. She was the one who taught him freedom.

“What was he like?”

She hesitates, the same way his mother does.

“He was a great man,” she says. “Inspiring. When he led, you wanted to follow, especially in battle.”

“I did not know you fought beside him.”

“Only twice,” she says. She points to her scar. Quite fearsome: he remembers cowering from it as a baby, and even when he first began training. “And I could not go to Paris with him.”

“I would have liked to go with him.” He pouts. “Of course, I doubt my mother will let me into battle at all.”

“We have not been on raids for years,” she says. “We have many years yet where we can convince her.”

He looks over at his unlikely champion, who has so casually pledged her support, and smiles.

---

The time has finally come, for him to enter battle, and although Thorunn is proud of her first- and only- student, now it is time for them to part ways.

“I don’t understand why you have to leave,” he says, pushing himself onto his stump again. “You should come to England with my father.”

“Ah, but I have been to England before,” she says. “I was promised Paris years ago, Ivar. And I intend to go beyond that.”

“What if you do not return, hm?”

“As long as I do not die before reaching Paris, I will be happy.” She shrugs.

He shrinks into himself, as if he could hide the words he says.

“I would like to fight with you,” he mutters. “I would like to fight with you, and my brothers, and my father.”

Ragnar had never liked her, had doubtless never noticed her while she was serving him. All she was to him was an error in his son’s judgment.

Thorunn remembers much of Ragnar, but it is doubtful he remembers her as anything other than mother to his first grandchild. Perhaps as the woman who carried that grandchild into battle, receiving a scar that still marks her.

Ivar does not remember anything of the reality of Ragnar. They have been fed a steady diet of stories, great tales that neither Aslaug nor Thorunn contradict. Thorunn, because she cannot be bothered. It amazes her that Aslaug seems to want her sons to have a good opinion of their great father.

“You have a choice here,” She says. “You can come with us, or you can go with your father, or you can stay with your mother.”

He bites his lip, his eyes wide.

“What do you want me to choose?” He asks quietly.

Sometimes, she forgets that Ivar looks up to her. The concept seems so ludicrous to her- the son of a king, asking the advice of a former slave. If she asked it of him, she might actually sway him.

“I want you to choose.” She says, finally. “Do not forget that you deserve choices. Always.”

When Ivar leaves, Aslaug hugs her sons in turn and kisses them on the forehead. She saves her tears for once Ivar boards their boat. They stand on the dock together, Ubbe holding his mother.

As the boat sail away from each other, Thorunn stares Ragnar in the eye, the way she never would have as his slave.

#vikings #thorunn #ivar ragnarsson #bjorn ironside #aslaug #vikingsevents #summer solstice #vikingssummer #fic #bjorn x thorunn #glory and gore

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bokettochild · 3 years

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Request: Fairy Hyrule, Minish Four and Bunny Legend cuddlefic? Mostly because I love the idea of hugging a bunny ten times your size. THINK OF THE (literal) FLUFF AND SOFTNESS

So... I got a bit caught up in the WHY of them all being Small, and... this happened.

It all got deleted halfway through and I had to rewrite it from memory, but it turned out okay (although I don't like the flow as much this time through), bt it's... a bit long. This baby was ten pages, and it took forever to get to the cuddling bit- sorry about that.

Anyways, Anon, here is your (long overdue) Tiny fic (it ain't tiny).

The others are laughing and it’s making him mad. Usually, he’s just smack them over the head (a much good as it would do, curse his weak arms) but usually he can reach that high.

Right now, he can’t.

Because right now, he’s a freaking rabbit

He’s a little pink rabbit sitting in the middle of a circle of heroes who are all laughing at him, and more than anything he wants to hop his freaking furry tail over to Warrior’s horrid choice of footwear and bite the shit out of the captain’s ankles; he deserves it (the rancher does to).

“How did this happen?” Hyrule wheezes out, and even though he wants to be, Legend finds that he can’t be mad at the healer, not when the kid’s face is flushed with laughter, his smile bright and carefree, golden gaze watery under the force of his bell-like laughter as it pricks at Legend’s sensitive ears.

“I don’t know!” Twilight wheezes from where he’s leaning against Time, hearty chuckles exploring from him unabashedly as he looks down at Legend. “We were scouting around the camp and when I turned around,” He gestures weakly to the veteran, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Rabbit!”

Legend scowls. He doesn’t even know what happened. One minute he was walking and the next he was tumbling head over paws on the pathway. He’d refused to let Twilight carry him back to camp (if only to try and maintain whatever dignity he had left) and had waited hopefully for Twilight to retrieve the Master Sword for him, only for Warriors to stumble upon him with the darkest expression he’s ever seen on the captain’s face.

Warriors’ expression at seeing a rabbit might very well haunt Legend’s dreams for ages to come, and had prompted a squeak of fear from him that had sent Sky darting up from his seat. “Legend!” The Chosen Hero had shouted, concern in his sky-blue eyes as he had skidded to his knees at Legend’s side, cautious hands scooping him up and inspecting him for injuries in the brief moment where he was too shocked to protest. Of course, he wouldn’t stand it for long, and after pawing at Sky’s fingers with angry huffs and squeaks that he was going to hope the others would forget about, he had been released back onto the ground.

Which landed them where they were now, surrounded by cackling heroes as they stared down at the fluffy pink ball of fur that was their salty veteran.

“Wow vet, I’d’ve never guessed, a rabbit?” Warriors wheezes, eyes full of mirth. “No wonder we don’t get along!”

He rolls his eyes and growls as best as he can as a rabbit (not like he can growl anyway, but he tries none-the-less). “Just hand over the Master Sword so we can get this shit over with.” He squeaks, ignoring how his growls sound more like honks and chitters than anything threatening.

Sky looks at him oddly, as do several of the others, none of them (save Twi and Sky) apparently expecting him to be able to speak in this form, but the Chosen Hero obliges regardless, reaching back for the Master Sword and carefully settling it within Legend’s reach.

The cool cross-guard is comfortable under his paws, even if it is too big, and he sighs in relief as the power of the blade flows over him. In a moment, his form will disappear into the light and reappear, whole and Hylian, and fully capable of kicking some rancher ass.

Just a moment....

A second more...

He blinks his eyes open, violet flitting across the blade in mounting concern as he takes in the fluffy pink paws that are where his hands should be. Why isn’t it working? Why is he still a helpless rabbit?

“That’s weird.” Twilight and Sky both murmur, exchanging a worried glance as the Skyloftian retrieves the blade. He lunges after it though, not giving Sky a chance to inspect the blade and instead startling him with the weight of a rabbit in his lap as pink paws reach up to grasp the sword hilt again.

“Fi, explain.”

The sword spirit’s voice rings clear and cool in his head as Sky lowers the blade further, better into his reach. He hardly processes the motion, so focused on the words, which is perhaps why he doesn't question the stabilizing hand that lowers onto his back.

“Young Master,” Fi chimes softly in his mind. “The forces which have transformed you are not dark in nature. There is a 76% chance that they are in fact, of nature themselves. As such, my blade is unable to undo the curse. You will likely have to wait until this curse runs its course.”

“How long.” He grates out, nose shivering in irritation as his ears flick back, brushing gently against the Skyloftian's fingers and making Sky gasp softly.

“Processing....There is a 49% percent chance that this curse will fade and return you to your Hylian form in approximately three days' time, and there is a 27% percent chance that it will take a week for said change to occur. Additionally, there is a 15% percent chance that the curse will not fade, and a 9% chance that this curse will make you explode.”

A strangled screech escapes him and he doesn’t even realize his paws have released the sacred blade until they are grasping at his ears, tugging with all of the pent-up emotion inside of his body as he processes the words. Never mind the exploding bit, he might not turn back? There’s only a fifty-fifty chance that he’ll turn back in the next few days?

Sky’s long fingers drag through his fur gently, rubbing soothing circles over his back. “What did she say?”

“Three days!” He tugs his ears again. “Three days of being utterly useless and helpless, and it’s not even certain that I’ll turn back! I could be stuck like this forever! I could explode!”

“Exploding doesn’t seem likely-” Twilight attempts to calm him, but it only makes him tug his ears harder.

“Fi said it might happen!” He shouts back, high pitched and squeaky, and hating every second of it. He buries his face in the fabric beneath him, his rabbit heart pounding with panic and cold dread washing over him as the words continue to spew from his mouth. “And if Fi said it could happen than it might! And we were about to go into battle too! What’ll happen if someone gets hurt? I can’t help anyone and there's absolutely nothing that stupid bunny could do and-”

Someone’s scratching his ears.

Long fingers rubbing just right between them and Legend is helpless to tell them to stop because he’s too busy melting into a puddle in Sky’s lap at the sensation. All thoughts flee as he lets Sky’s hands drive away all worries. Should he be worried that he’s rendered speechless and vulnerable by something so simple? Probably, but Sky seems to know just how to place his hands and Legend can only hum in appreciation at the feeling, a squeaky purr escaping him as he leans into the sensation as Sky hums something soft and soothing under his breath. The vibrations carry down his fingers and tingle down Legend’s spine, calming him further.

“Cute.” Twilight's voice breaks him from his thoughts, and he’s pulling back from Sky’s hands and glaring up at the rancher with all the fury he can fit in his now tiny body.

“He’s not wrong, Kit.” Time chuckles soft and low, and Legend whips his head around to stare at the man.

“Oh no, you are not giving me a nickname!”

“Yeah Time,” Sky’s voice is low and mirthful as he speaks, hand once more settling on Legend’s back as he lifts an arm to block the vet from launching himself at their leader. “He’s my descendant, if anyone should be giving him a nickname it’s me.”

“How about Nibbles?” The sailor grins, leering into Legend’s space with enough mischief in his gaze to kill a Lynel. “I mean, the vet is always chewing us out.”

He forgets for a moment that his growls sound more like chirps in this form, baring his teeth at the sailor as he attempts to frighten him off. It doesn’t work, rabbits aren’t made to scare off bigger animals “So help me sailor I-”

Large hands scoop him off the ground and suddenly he’s being cradled in Sky’s arms. Like a baby. The indignity! “Calm down, Bun, he’s just kidding.” Sky’s crystal eyes glimmer with genuine concern as he looks down at Legend. “And we’ll find a way to change you back, I promise. The goddesses wouldn’t have let you change like this if it was for the worse. You’ll see,” Sky bops his nose with a smile entirely too pure. “It’ll be fine.”

Legend would like to argue that point, the goddesses have never shown any particular interest in what’s best for him before, and most of them seem to find humor in ruining his life time and again (except the Golden Trio, they’re alright he guesses, especially Din), but Sky looks so certain and Legend’s honestly too tired to start a big fight about Hylia again. (Heaven knows the last time he made Sky mad he nearly shat himself at how terrifyingly defensive Sky could get about those he loved). It doesn’t matter anyway, he supposes, as Sky’s already standing and making is way back to their main camp, gait just smooth enough not to jostle his reluctant passenger as Legend slumps in place.

He might as well let this happen, at least until he can figure out how to fix it.

It’s official.

Legend hates being a bunny.

They’ve settled down for dinner and as if to mock him and all that he loves, Wild has been struck with the inspiration to make his absolutely heavenly radish stew. The one that Legend would literally sell some of his rings for because it is that good.

And he can’t eat it.

He tried, and that attempt resulted in both himself and Sky covered in broth, the thick liquid clinging to his fur now as he sits on the ground with some raw fruits and vegetables instead. He doesn’t know that he’ll ever be able to eat it again without being forced to remember nearly drowning in the stuff.

He feels like a baby and he hates it.

He’s soaked himself and his ancestor and food and Warriors still isn’t done tittering about it.

He really hates being a bunny.

The others have nearly stepped on him numerous times, simply because they aren’t used to having to watch underfoot, so every time someone walks over to Wild to get seconds (why did the Champion sit next to him and Sky in the first place?) he has to back-peddle onto his haunches to avoid being crushed under heavy boots and even heavier feet.

Add to that that Wild and Wind both subconsciously reach out to pet his bedraggled fur every few minutes and he’s absolutely fed up with this shit!

At least the Champion was willing to lend him something to dry his fur off with, and even if he hates it, the spare brush Warriors has on hand does a decent job of detangling his fluffy hide. If he melts a little in Twilight’s lap as the rancher goes over him with the brush than no one says anything (although both Sky and Time have infuriating matching smiles on their faces).

But then it’s bedtime and Time is sorting through his things to try and make sure that no one person will have to carry all his stuff, and he’s reminded once again how utterly useless he is in this form. It only makes things worse that he knows that the others will be burdened with his bags, and considering his top speed at the moment can only be held for short sprints, he’s pretty sure the Old Man is going to have someone carry him too.

The very idea makes him puff out his fur in irritation.

At the very least though, he doesn’t have to worry much about how he’s going to handle the cold nights, Sky’s already taken his beloved sailcloth and bundled it into a little nest, and the minute Twilight is done with his fur the Chosen Hero is scooping him up and laying him in it (absently, he wonders if Sky might have a stronger paternal instinct than Time and if his own small form is triggering that). The fabric is warm though, and it’s nice. If Sky curls up around him in the middle of the night though, well, he supposes there’s not really much he can do about that.

Sky does curl around him and he’s trapped.

The Skyloftian may look soft and cuddly, but he’s got an iron grip when he’s asleep, and it’s only by the pure squishability of his current form that he’s able to escape (Sky will be disappointed when he wakes up, he knows, but even so, Legend doesn’t intend on staying a rabbit, not for a whole week, especially when there’s monsters out there.

Perhaps the thought of said monsters should dissuade him, but it doesn’t. He knows now what triggered this change, and he’s determined to hunt it down and trick it into changing him back, he just needs to escape his babysitters for a hot tic in order to do so.

It’s a lucky thing that Four and Warriors are both so drowsy that the feather light step of a rabbit doesn’t catch their attention as the two sit on watch, and Legend’s able to creep over to his bag (positioned with Twilight’s things) and dig through it until he finds what he needs.

You can’t go making deals with the fae unless you have something of value, or those tricksters will rob you blind and steal your first born. Not that Legend ever intends on having kids, but on the off chance that he ever did he’d rather they didn’t have a shitty life because he made an error in dealing with a forest sprite.

Come to think of it, how powerful are the forest people of this time?

Warriors looks seconds away from walking up to Sky’s sleeping form and throwing Legend as far as he can into the distance, and it’s making Four nervous.

Rationally, they know that Warriors wouldn’t consciously do such a thing, but they also know how much Warriors hates rabbits in general, and that the captain’s initial instinct at seeing them is to toss them away from himself as far as possible (never mind how rare a real rabbit is, Warriors’ time is apparently full of them and Warriors hates them). They’ve heard the story, how the captain was made to hunt rabbits down across his world and return them to their homes, the fact that he did so by throwing them is a bit concerning considering the delicate bone structure of the animals, but it’s not Wars’ fault that he doesn’t know that.

All the same, Four would feel a bit more secure if they knew that Wars wouldn’t be doing such a thing. (Rationally, they know he won’t, but rationality is only so much of the equation).

“I’m gonna check on the vet.” They murmur softly to their companion. Somethings not right and they hope it’s just Warriors’ previous retellings of his own rabbit-escapades eating at them and not something else. “Sky’s got a grip like a vice when he sleeps and I don’t want him getting crushed.”

Never mind that being small sucks when it’s this cold out. Four desperately hopes that it won’t rain tonight (although the air tastes right for it).

“Rabbits are tough little things,” The captain chuckles. “I’m sure he’s okay.”

Vio wrenches control from the others, gaze flat as he stares out at Wars. “You do know most rabbits can’t survive being thrown, right? They’re not like cats, if they land wrong their done for.”

The captain pales slightly but doesn’t say anything, and they take that as their cue to stand and make their way over to where Sky and the vet had bedded down for the night. Sure enough, Sky is curled up around the sailcloth nest he made for Legend like a child curled around their favorite stuffed animal (or Red with any of the rest of them), but at the very least it doesn’t look as if Legend would have been smashed, just caged. They wince, the vet doesn’t sleep well on a good night, but waking up to being trapped? That is...not good. There’s a reason they never force him to join everyone else when Red takes over and calls for a cuddle pile; everyone knows that the most Legend will stand is letting Hyrule hold his hand while he sleeps, and even then, the vet will still pull away when he finally does fall asleep.

Sky shifts (he’s a heavy sleeper, but all the same he moves a lot), arms wrapping tighter around the bundle in his arms. Tight enough that the sailcloth gives way. Sky’s face screws up in his sleep, wrapping even tighter around the bundle as if seeking out some form of resistance.

Four panics. Bunnies are delicate creatures and Sky is strong, did he just crush Legend?

Only, looking closer, Vio points out that there isn’t even a hint of pink amidst the fabric, and when Four dares reach out to test the bundle himself, they find that there is nothing within its folds.

“Four?” Warriors’ voice is tinged with concern as Four stand back up from his crouch, brows pinched together as he scans over the camp. “Is something wrong?”

“Legend’s missing.”

The captain’s brows shoot up, but thankfully he doesn’t bother with questioning them, instead hoisting himself to his feet and making his way around the camp, an ever-growing frown marring his features as he looks around. “Did he choose to sleep with Hyrule instead?” It’s a soft murmur, likely only spoken aloud because Wars is too tired to stop it before it reaches his mouth, but Four’s eyes flick over to where the Traveler sleeps regardless.

“I don’t think so.”

“Look,” Warriors groans softly, not loud enough to wake the others, stopping at Twilight’s bedroll and motioning to the bags stacked near the rancher's pillow. “His bag is open.”

“You don’t think he climbed inside of it, do you? We’d never find him!”

The captain gives him a look, blinking once before shaking his head. “No! But he was clearly trying to get at something.” Royal blue eyes turn to stare out at the forest. “What are the chances he went back out there, alone?”

Four hesitates, fingers drumming on his thigh as the colors swarm in his mind. “I don’t know, but I should probably check.”

“We need to watch camp.” The older hero frowns.

“You watch camp, I’ll go out there.”

“You can’t go alone, Four, it’s not safe.” Wars reminds him, concern glinting in his gaze as he turns back to the smithy.

“Fine.” Blue’s the only reason they roll their eyes, they swear. “I’ll take Hyrule. If the vet’s fallen down a hole or something then we can take care of it immediately.”

A smile breaks out across Warriors’ face, even if it is slightly strained. “Funny how that’s even a risk now.”

“Don’t I know it.” Besides, at least Hyrule seems to have a second sense for these sorts of things. Like Sky and Twilight, he has a knack for tracking down the others, especially if he needs to find Time for whatever reason. Four’s seen it themselves, it’s uncanny, but incredibly useful, so they’ve never really questioned it (Vio has, Vio has questioned it enough to give them a head-ache).

It’s the work of a minute to shake the traveler awake, as he’s one of the lightest sleepers of them all, and it takes even less time for them to be off, the simple words “Legend’s gone” being enough to send the traveler springing up and following closely after Four, one hand on his sword as the two of them make their way back into the depths of the forest.

Legend should know better than to try and make a deal with the fae.

Hyrule can recognize the look of a fairy about to claim her prize in an instant, and it appears Legend is about as clueless as a bunny can be about the loophole that he must have left open in whatever twisted deal the two have concocted. Anger burns in his blood as a whisper-hisses through his teeth, a few words all it takes before he’s zipping between the two of them, wings beating furiously as all six of his eyes stare into those of the other with nothing short of pure fury.

“Mine!” He hisses, darting forwards in a fake charge at the other, wings whirring angrily as his eyes stare at them “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!” His voice contorts and buzzes, his aura flickering brighter and sharper as he zooms down to hover over Legend’s ears. “MINE.”

“What is your claim?” The other chimes smugly. “What promise or service marks him as yours? Where is the Mark that makes a mortal the charge of a fae, hmm? Show it to me and I will release him to your care.” Glistening teeth glimmer as multiple eyes glisten with malice, jealousy over a potential catch making the fairy’s gaze spark dangerously. “Else ways, leave us be, our deal is near set and you have no business to interrupt it.”

“His true form,” He hisses. “There is my Mark on his hand. The Triangle, my symbol.” He hisses through bared teeth, every eye slitted and glimmering with fury. He can’t lie, not even if he tried, but he’s fae and they’re more skilled than anyone at finding tricks to get around things. The triforce is his symbol, something he’s recognizable by in his world, but it’s not only on his hand, the others bear the same mark and even if it isn’t Fae in origin, it's from the Scared Realm and none can deny that it sets them apart. Anyways, the Fae know mortals by their markings, this should be enough of a claim to make her renounce her dealings with Legend.

No fae dares mess with the Charge of another.

“What is your proof? Can you show me?” She taunts.

“My power isn’t that strong.” He hisses. “You do it and then you’ll see!”

“And give him what he asks without receiving my due? Oh no little Half-Blood.” She glares at him. “Give me Good Reason or leave alone.”

“He is goddess born.” He hisses out finally, grasping at straws. Mother only taught him so much of Fae law, but surely there’s something against touching those blessed by the heavens, right? “Hylia’s child descended. To touch him or any other of Mine is to plead wrath from the Scared Realm.” A sly smile slides over pointed teeth. “Would you wish that on Yours?”

She pales. “Mark your own in all forms, Halfling. This would not happen if you did.” It’s all she cares to say though, zipping away without another word.

“Do I want to know what I just avoided?” Legend’s voice croaks up at him, faint and pitchy all the same as he looks up to the fairy above him.

“I don’t know. But never, and I mean NEVER, make deals with fae again. Not even me! You can’t break promises or be too careful, you never know what they’ll do.” Two of his eyes glance over his shoulder to ensure that the other Fae is gone for good.

“I was trying to be careful.” Legend huffs, his breath sending Hyrule higher over his head for a moment before the fairy regains his balance. “They’re clever little-” He cuts off, violet eyes narrowing and bunny nose shivering as he looks up at Hyrule again. “You’re a fairy.”

His aura dims slightly, wings drooping ever so slightly as he looks down at his mentor. “Yes.”

Legend stares, violet piercing and sharp. Hyrule has never noticed the hint of gold that bands his irises, nor the flecks of blue that glisten under the effects of a fairy’s glow, and it only makes the Veteran’s stare all the more intense.

“Huh.” The bunny huffs softly. “That’s pretty neat, ‘Rulie.” There's no anger, no accusation in his tone, and when Hyrule brings his gaze up to meet that of his mentor again, all he sees is fondness and intrigue. “Is this new? An item? Were you- no,” Legend’s ears prick forwards, his interest obvious as he leans forward. (Hyrule wonders if the vet realizes that he's smelling him.) “You speak like They do. This isn’t new.”

It’s not a question.

“I’m, uh, half fairy.”

Legend nods slowly. “And you didn’t think to tell anyone?” At the dimming of Hyrule’s glow the vet pulls away, eyes flashing with panic for a moment. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing, ‘Rule, just-” He cocks his head long ears flopping to one side sloppily. “It’s not something I’d think you’d want to hide. Seems pretty useful to me.”

And by useful, Hyrule knows Legend means cool.

“I told Four.” He nods to the Hylian standing over them. The smithy’s eyes flicker various colors, his lips pulling aside into a slight smile as he crouches to be closer to their height.

“Now I’m taller than both of you.” Four chuckles softly, crimson tinged gaze sweeping over the two of them.

“Don’t get smart.” Legend huffs. “This is a curse, not my true form, you’d be tiny too if you were cursed into an animal form. Probably smaller than me!”

There’s a knowing look in the smithy’s gaze, but he holds his silence, smile still present as he carefully looks over the both of them. “Well, if neither of you were harmed in that little exchange, we should get back to camp. Wars will be in a huff if we don’t back with you soon.”

Legend huffs his own huff, but doesn’t object, gathering up the glimmering item he had brought as a toll (Hyrule thinks it might be a precious stone of some sort) and slowly hopping after the Smithy as he turns back towards camp.

They’d have made it to camp rather quickly too, if the sky hadn’t chosen that moment to weep out it’s sorrow with the world and the evils within. Great sheets of rain, the likes of which they usually only expect from the Champion’s Hyrule, flood down over them, and Hyrule thanks all things Holy that Legend is there to break his fall as the water soaks his wings and sends him careening towards the earth. Four yelps in surprise, hands fumbling for his hood as he tried to fend off some of the wet (it does little good, they’ll be soaked in seconds in this downpour.

“In here!” Legend squeaks, the rabbit hero already darting into the nearest hollow he can see that isn’t clearly inhabited. It’s a tight squeeze, and Hyrule nearly knocks his head on the bark of the opening, but Legend gets the both of them under, and despite the mushrooms that seem to fill the space with a soft light, it’s a comfortable fit for the two of them. The ground beneath is laid with moss, purposefully it would seem, and Hyrule lets himself side down into it with an appreciative hum.

“What about Four?” He murmurs softly, looking out of the crevice through which they entered. It’s still pouring buckets, and unlike them, the smithy has no dry place to hide (heavens knows the camp will be soaked. He feels terrible for the others).

“What about me?”

Violet and gold turn upwards as twin gasps escape the two. Four, in all of his minish glory, waves back at them from where he’s perched on top of one of the mushrooms. “Minish portal.” He smiles cheerily (but Hyrule can Taste the nervousness rolling off of him).

“Wait, both of you get small?” Legend’s ears stand up straight, brushing the roof of their shelter. “Smaller?” He corrects himself.

Four rolls his eyes. “It was get soaked or get small. I don’t fancy catching a cold, so I chose small.” He wrinkles his nose (it will never stop being cute), hopping down from the mushroom and free falling into the dampened fur of his rabbit-companion. “Now shut up and let me warm up, you’re bigger than I am and since you left me out there to soak I think I can get away with using you to warm up.”

Hyrule’s laughter rings soft and sweet through the hollow, Legend’s vaguely offended expression only adding fuel to the fire as he flits closer. “The vet doesn’t really mind cuddles, do you Ledge? Besides,” He lets his wings fall still, embracing the warmth of Legend’s soft fur as he lands in it lightly. “We just saved his ass.”

Legend turns his head to stare at the two of them, but even in rabbit form his lips twitch with amusement as he shoves him nose into Four’s personal space, making the minish-hero tumble down into the moss with a faint yelp. “You’re soaking.”

The smith grins back, plunging right back into the warm pink fur. “That wasn’t a refusal.”

“One time.” Legend huffs, ears flicking briefly. “One time only, smithy. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Trust me,” Four sighs, plonking down against the vet and leaning into the plush fur around him. “I will.”

It takes mere seconds before Four has drifted off, and Hyrule is reminded that the smith was keeping watch for most of the night before they had gone out looking for Legend. Guilt, sickly-sweet, yet bitter, taints his tongue as Legend stares down at the tiny form curled against him. Hyrule sighs. “I guess he was more tired than I thought.”

Legend only huffs, ears flicking back and nose shivering as he noses the smithy’s sleeping from. Four’s dropped off like a stone, completely dead to the world as Legend curls around him (not dissimilar to how Sky had curled around him earlier that night), easing the gentle shivers of the smith, who noses deeper into Legend’s pelt. Tiny paws coming up to catch hold of pink fur as Four curls up, feather-like tail brushing against the top of his tiny nose, moved only by tiny snores that make Legend’s ears twitch and Hyrule giggle softly.

“The rains still pouring down.” Legend hums, gruff as he can be in his current state, but Hyrule knows it’s all an act. “You might as well get some sleep too, ‘Rulie.”.

And while any other time Hyrule may have argued, Legend lifts his head to offer the space next to Four, and if Legend is offering cuddles, especially with his silky soft fur as a barrier against the cold, Hyrule knows he can’t resist it.

Four’s paw catches hold of him the instant he settles next to the smithy, and before he knows it the two of them are both bundled up in each other while Legend curls himself around them, breath soft and soothing as his heart pit-patters away inside of him.

That’s how they wake the next morning.

Wolfie’s nose shoved against the crack in the bark is what pulls them back from the land of dreams, and the soft snuffling bark followed by Time’s voice is what gets them up on their feet. It’s an awkward thing, emerging into the light again to find five heroes and a wolf staring down at them in a mixture of confusion and concern, but nobody seems to be able to bring themselves to scold when Four sneezes.

“We got caught in the storm.” Legend huffs when he sees the soft expression on Time’s face.

Wolfie huffs, and, much to the surprise of the currently shrunken heroes, they can hear the laugh in it. “Of course you did.”

Hyrule’s mouth drops open, all six eyes bugging out in shock as he turns to Four. The fairy’s whisper is high and shocked, but too sharp a noise for Hylian ears, although Legend, Wolfie and Four can all hear him quite clearly. “Wolfie is Twilight!”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #fluffics #lu legend #lu twilight #lu hyrule #lu sky #lu four #lu warriors #fairy hyrule #bunny legend #minish four #minish four has friends!#fairies can taste emotions hc #Fairy Hyrule has six eyes #shut up and let me have eldritch hyrule!#wolfie linked universe #wolfie

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razzle-berry · 4 years

Note

I have to get this off my chest cuz damn if no one wants to say it, I will! We all know how shitty Quirk society is when it comes to mutation quirks, being quirkless, subtle quirks, or quirks that are just perceived as evil. So I’d like to request hc’s of Shoji, Shinsou, Aizawa, and Fatgum with an s/o that hates people that judge quirks or try to let the bullshit slide.

For example, Shoji’s s/o dislikes Pony from Class 1-B for how she insulted Shoji’s appearance despite not knowing him at all, so she tends to keep a stone face or glare on anyone like that unless they apologize. Would deadass say “He’s not the monster here, you are.”

Shinsou’s s/o would openly call people cowards/idiots for antagonizing Shinsou’s quirk when it could be used for interrogating villains and subtletly get information from enemy sources, so she’s more than happy to defend him and others like him.

And Aizawa’s/Fatgum’s s/o just openly points out the bullshit ethics of the society for how no one should be discriminated or ranked for their quirk since they can’t help being born with whatever quirk they have and even calls out pro-hero’s that holds the whole “flashy quirk >” mindset *cough*Endeavor*cough* since it could demotivate and make others insecure about being a hero or even using their quirks at all.

This was long but quirk discrimination got me heated and I rarely see anyone talk about it or do hc’s about it.

I feel you. I hate this so much too especially because so many people have or may have suffered in the show because of this! I was actually just talking about this with one of my friends earlier lol.

There's going to be a bit if a stylistic change with this hc so bear with me please.

Warnings: Discrimination, swearing, Y/N is about to go off on someone, slight angst ig

Character(s): Shoji, Shinso, Aizawa, Fatgum

Mezo Shoji

Let’s just start off by saying that anybody who has the audacity to call Shoji a monster can catch not just his your, but my hands as well. This man is so strong, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well to not let the blatant discrimination turn him away from wanting to be a hero. (Absolutely no hate to those who did go down that path because of it though, they still valid)

Shoji can, for the most part, handle himself in these situations. While they hurt, he grew up having to deal with it and is sadly used to it

But the first time you went off on someone for judging him, it made him fall deeper in love

“How dare you!” The cafeteria chatter and traffic in the mall seemed to freeze in time as your voice carried out. In front of you was a rather tall man who could have been considered attractive if not for his ugly words. Mezo stood behind you, looking at you in shock at how angry you had become.

“Mezo is an amazing hero, and even better person, and you have the absolute nerve to insult him because of how he looks?”

The man started to sweat underneath your heavy gaze, as well as the whispers that started to grow around you two. Mezo decided to step in and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Darling, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” You sent him a brief smile before turning you glare onto the stranger. “You’re not the monster here, he is.”

Hitoshi Shinso

He’s used to people referring to him as a villain the second they know what his quirk is and by the time we the audience meet him, he’s accepted it

He’s fallen into such a deep pit of insecurity, it’s a wonder he even managed to accept that you weren’t afraid of him, let alone have romantic interest him

The first time he saw you jump to his, or any other person that's like him, defense he was in shock.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Hitoshi stopped and stared at you in shock.

A small villain had tried to keep the restaurant hostage for some reason or another and had a woman at gun point as he talked to the police outside. While currently not on duty, Hitoshi still had his licence and controlled the villain to safely return the woman to her family and turn himself in. He tried to go comfort the woman and see if he needed anything, only for her to scream at him for having such a villainous quirk. Naturally, he was upset but he was willing and ready to move on from the unfortunately common situation and just go back to his lunch date with you. Seemed like you had other plans.

"This man just saved you, and you want to call him a villain? How much of a child do you have to be to think that someone's quirk determines what they become. Hitoshi is a wonderful hero, and his so called 'villainous' quirk has helped save hundreds of people!"

Hitoshi took your hand and started pulling you away from the woman, as you were getting closer.

"Calm down, it's fine. I'm used to it."

"Well you shouldn't be! It's people like this that create the villains in this society. Not everyone is as stubborn as you, hearing that you're going to be a villain based on nothing but something you can't control would break someone enough and have then actually turn into a villain!"

You looked at the woman in absolute rage and disgust.

"I hope you're proud of yourself."

Shota Aizawa

He someone who not only grew up with a non flashy quirk, but also is a hero without a flashy quirk. Barely anyone knows who he is because of that, as well as his underground career. While that's a good thing, all things considered, he was and is still a victim of hero society's discrimination

Shota doesn't like UA's entrance exam because it's impractical, and we know he knows that the bias allows for talented potential heroes to slip through because they're not flashy or physically strong. He would have first hand knowledge of this since it almost happened to him.

You, on the other hand, weren't a hero. At least not one like him. You helped people like him know that they're still able to become heroes, no matter what other may say about their quirks and he loved you for it.

"He might not have a strong physical quirk that allows for flashy moves to appeal to an audience, but that doesn't mean he isn't useful, or powerful."

You two were on a date when a fan, if you could even call him that, had walked up to Shota and started asking questions. All was okay until he asked if he ever felt bad for not being as powerful or useful as someone like All Might or Endeavor.

"Yeah, but he's-"

"His own person with his own accomplishments that you probably never even heard about because the media didn't care enough. He's worth so much more than a fancy quirk and a camera ready smile. Now, go back to whatever you were doing, we are busy."

Shota chuckled and allowed you to pull him along.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Doesn't matter, you are an amazing hero and I don't appreciate anyone saying otherwise because of something so stupid as a flashy quirk. Especially when they compare you to fucking Endeavor of all people!"

Fatgum/Toyomitsu Taishiro

Toyomitsu has a quirk that, on the surface, doesn’t seem very useful for hero work. I imagine that he was made very aware of that growing up, and even as he debuted as a hero.

Not to mention that his quirk, when activated, makes body shape turn into an almost oval, vague snowman shape so that might have set some people off. For such a friendly guy, that would have been a cause for insecurity at one point seeing as he genuinely wants people to be happy.

You were someone who never saw him like that and held him through tougher nights when the media got too harsh on him. You were even someone not afraid to get in front of a reporter’s camera and tear them a new one.

“What kind of a ridiculous question is that?”

It was a few weeks after his debut and some people were still mocking him for his quirk. On the surface, fat absorption didn’t seem like much and for someone who doesn’t know Toyo- excuse me- Fatgum (he’s a hero now, you thought proudly), it might even seem useless. But you knew better, and you thought that it was about time others did too.

“Just because Fatgum’s quirk isn’t flashy and destructive, it doesn’t mean he should feel inadequate next to someone who does have one like that, and I don’t appreciate you insinuating that he should.”

The reporter recoiled slightly, and tried to stutter out a response.

“I'm- I'm not-!"

"Fatgum is already an amazing hero, and he's only going to get better. So you can take your prejudice and find a new job because clearly being a reporter is not a good field for you!"

"Sugar, it's okay!" Fatgum placed his hand on your shoulder and smiled. "I'm just going to have to prove them wrong!"

His cheery demeanor was enough to calm you down a bit, but still you couldn't resist shooting the chastised reporter a sharp glare, causing them to shrink back. You smirked at the sight.

"You already have."

#bnha #bnha x reader #shoji mezo #shoji x reader #hitoshi shinso #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #eraserhead #eraserhead x reader #fatgum #fatgum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu #taishiro x reader #tw discrimination #slight angst #but not much

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saabbi · 3 years

Text

Regret part 7

Warmth in the freezing snow

Genshin Impact Adeptus!reader au

warnings: light angst?, mentions of drugging and syringes, probably messy, crappy quality

words: ~2.8k

Notes: series is resuming after the hiatus. I had a hard time writing this chapter (because I suck at writing) so I really hope this chapter didn't turn out to be too messy and confusing. ao3 series link

[previous] [next]

Stepping out the ship, you’re immediately greeted by the harsh and nostalgic icy cold breeze. Pure white snowflakes that dance around your vision and the pile of soft snow beneath your feet tells you that you’re back in Snezhnaya.

You asked a subordinate to help you deliver the lantern you had bought for Teucer and obediently followed another Fatui member, who guided you to the chamber where the Tsarista is patiently waiting for your arrival.

“Your highness, I have returned.” You kneeled down on one knee, head lowering to pay your respects. The Tsarista’s ice cold gaze pierces you, making you anxious on why she summoned you.

“My loyal subject.” a voice so calm and quiet, barely to be heard, yet crystal clear and reverberates around the shallow and empty hall, sending a chill down your spine. You look up upon her call, acknowledging that she remains ever so strikingly breath-taking, as resplendent as the most exquisite flower, as elegant as Snezhnaya’s never-melting snow.

“Dottore has found a way to further enhance the capabilities of Fatui, and your aid is needed to achieve it.” She walks closer to you with each step, stopping just before your kneeled figure.

“To achieve it, your aid is necessary. I trust that you will provide all the help Dottore needs dutifully, yes?” A simple question, but her tone indicates that she does not accept rejection as an answer.

“Yes, of course.” The Tsarista seems delighted at your answer, resting her chilly hand on your cheeks and lightly caressing it with her thumb. The subtle intimate gesture however, was nothing resembling that of affection. The Tsarista’s sharp gaze remains fixated on you, yet it doesn’t feel like she’s properly looking at you at all. Her gaze has always been like that, as if she’s looking for something deeper in your soul, but not your existence.

“Dottore, come in. The final mission of our primeval harbinger shall now be performed.” The coldness on your cheeks is replaced by the sudden gushes of wind, the words leaving the Tsarista’s mouth leaving you off guard as you abruptly shot your head up.

“...Your highness? What does that-” Cut off by a harsh slam of the door, you turn to the entrance only to reveal a masked man with curly blue locks- Dottore. The condescending smirk spreading on his face as he meets your wary eyes sets off alarms in your head, screaming that this man is up to no good.

Your hand immediately reaches towards the hilt of your sword resting on your hips, ready to draw it out if he makes any suspicious movements. Furrowing your eyebrows and eyeing Dottore’s every move, unsure of what he would do.

“Relax, relax. This is all under the Tsarista’s orders, doesn’t do too much harm...I guess?” Dottore, now casually twirling a syringe filled with a dangerous-looking fluid, puts his hands up in the air in a placating manner, but his halfhearted response only makes you glare at him cautiously.

“I will have to question you on what you’re about to do, Dottore.” It’s all under the Tsarista’s orders, and you thought it would just be something about training new Fatui recruits, but Dottore’s behaviour insinuates that there is much more than that, and seems like the syringe is to be used on you.

“Oh this? Haha! I’m not quite sure, maybe knock you out for a bit? Y’know, draw out your adeptal powers to the maximum potential, I weaponise it, and voila! Fatui gets a new upgrade! Wonderful plan right?”

Dottore sure made it sound like no big deal, but you know that’s not all the catch. Because if it’s about your adeptal powers, then surely, the Tsarista’s intention is to-

“You’d better not do any stupid movements with your sword, yeah? It would be bad if you were to go against her highness’ orders, after all, you are her most loyal subordinate. Unless… you plan to commit treachery?” Dottore leered as your grip on the sword tightens, conflicted on what to do.

Reluctantly, you peered over to the Tsarista, who has not said a word at the impasse and tense situation between you and Dottore, silently watching everything unfold before her. The Tsarista’s glacial smile never fades as she meets your gaze, not giving you a definite response, but perhaps acknowledging Dottore’s words.

“That’s… not all there is to this, is it?” Despite your loyalty to the Tsarista, this question must be raised for your own sake. Adeptal energy has always been a rather sensitive subject to both you and the Tsarista, with you knowing that she has always wanted to utilise your mysterious powers to help her achieve her goals.

“Quite the sharp one huh? Well I suppose there’s no use beating around the bush, I’ll do you the favour in telling you this- Your adeptal energy is to be drained completely for us to use, ahahaha!” A fit of manical laughter jolted through him, his atrocious appearance matching his abhorrent personality.

“And that would leave me...vulnerable and powerless?” The appalling smirk that makes you want to throw up, the messed up plan that makes you want to run away from the Tsarista’s chambers.

“B i n g o! You neither have a vision nor delusion, so without those powers, you’re pretty much useless.” Dottore approaches you, barely stopping in front of you. Lowering his voice, he mumbled into your ears, “and you’ll be thrown away by the Tsarista, officially being useless to her. I’m sure you know by now, that all her highness cares about is that adeptal energy of yours, and not you yourself?” even at such a low volume, his mockery towards you can clearly be heard.

Of course you knew, that all the Tsarista’s interested in is your mysterious powers. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out her intentions in bringing you to her nation. Even after millennia of you serving her with your utmost loyalty, all she has taken interest in is your powers.

The cold Tsarista that requested you like an object from Morax as a trade of peace, and never paid you much attention. The Tsarista who only shows you some form of affection and addresses your name when she needs you to carry out her plans. To her, it was obvious that you are a mere chess piece, for her to attain her grand goals.

Despite knowing this, you still turned your head once more towards the Tsarista, locking gazes with her, searching for something that even you yourself wasn’t sure what you’re looking for in her eyes, but to no avail, the same empty eyes with no any sort of emotion returning your disappointment. That is how little you meant to her.

It has always been, a foolish hope of yours, to believe that one day, if you stay by her side long enough, you would become a figure that holds much more place in her heart. But that has never been the case, her icy heart never had space for you, locking you out. She has enough love for all the other harbingers, all except you.

The best course of action right now, is to draw out your blade and resist against the Tsarista. You have to defend yourself, you have to get out alive and well, because you promised Zhongli, Xiao, and Ganyu to return. You have to unsheathe your sword right this instant.

But your hands remain frozen, disobeying your commands and desperate internal cries. It should be simple, to protect yourself against those who could not care less about your existence and never acknowledging you, and flee to Liyue. So why can’t you bring yourself to do so?

Because it would mean that you’re defying the person whom your loyalty is dedicated to, denying the Tsarista’s ambitions.

The same Tsarista who ripped you apart from your family, but also the one who gave you a new identity, and a new place to call home, giving you a reason to live on by serving her.

And you who watched over her carefully throughout your lifetime; when she became obsessed with the idea of bringing down celestia, to the point where delusions are invented just for the sole purpose of resisting against the sacred land where gods are rumoured to reside.

You never found out the reason behind her obstinacy in bringing down celestia, but you stayed beside her long enough to witness her desire for power and authority to continue to expand into a bottomless abyss, and the times when she struggled.

Times when her immature plans backfired, times she felt livid and Snezhnaya would be in raging blizzards for weeks, times when she doubted her own decisions. You were always there, by her side and ready to jump into action whenever she needed you to.

Through trial and error, she learned to develop well thought-out plans after calculations and taking precautionary measures, and recruited talented individuals. The harder she falls, the higher she bounces. She was undeniably a dazzling existence to you.

The Tsarista is a blinding lone star that continues to glisten even if other stars have faded, showing its resistance towards the devouring night sky. Someone so cruel and brutal, yet ever so resplendent, that you couldn’t peel your eyes off her.

A star that defies the night sky.

And you, who only knew how to live under orders and pretty much lived a tedious life besides carrying out Fatui duties, are dull and have long succumbed to darkness.

So how could you deny her? The one who never faltered, the flames of ambition that refuses to die out no matter what? You couldn’t bring yourself to betray her even at this very moment, because you have watched over her for far too long.

“This turned out to be rather...disappointing.” Seeing you loosening your grip on the sword and putting down your defenses, Dottore scoffs.

You take a sharp inhale, making up your mind. Regretfully, your decision is to stay loyal to the Tsarista and faithfully do as she wishes up until the very end. A very foolish decision even you are aware of, and one that makes your heart scream in agony knowing that you’re once again being thrown away. Even so, this is the path you have chosen.

Drained, you felt. It felt as if your powers erupted all at once, and got sucked dry by a vacuum cleaner and left to die on the road. Your role as the twelfth harbinger has been dismissed, now just an identity-less wanderer. The Tsarista truly is a cruel person, you thought, to just throw you out and let you crawl away all by your own whilst surrounded by nothing but coldness and snow, knowing that you right now are incredibly weak and vulnerable. She didn’t even have someone to escort you to a shelter, simply took away your harbinger identification with the usual eerie smile.

But archons do you feel horrible, dizzy and nauseous, on the verge of passing out. Now that you’ve lost your place, where would you go? Tired, cold and nowhere to go, you lean on a nearby bark to grab a hold of yourself, trying figure out what to do from now on.

Slumping down and shutting your eyes, you are forced to face your own emotions that you have repressed in the Tsarista’s chambers. Your heart aches so much, the strong pulsations being the only thing resounding in your ears, it hurts more than how your body is right now.

What a pathetic destiny you face, to be thrown away whom you trusted and served twice in your lifetime. It hurts so much, your heart continuously screams to you, not forgiving the way you hurt it so severely. So pathetic, you are so pathetic, you thought.

Even after millennia, you still never found a place you truly belonged to, your miserable and pathetic self was not accepted anywhere. You know very well the Tsarista has always been using you, yet facing the harsh reality is not as easy as you thought.

Wouldn’t it be better if the abyss consumed you? To be embraced by darkness and vanish, not having to face pointless emotions and drama? If only your eyes never opened back from the first time you dirtied your own hands, and instead swallow by the cold and hungry arms of demise- if you only died back then, would you still have to face such circumstances?

“...Hey, comrade.” a light whisper of a familiar voice enters your ears, dragging you back from your thoughts. You looked up at the one who called for you, only to find your vision blurry and cheeks feeling wet and cold. You didn’t even realise droplets of tears had trickled down your cheeks, you are even surprised that you’re capable of crying, you hadn’t shed a tear, let alone cry out loud for so long that you had forgotten how it felt.

Childe crawls closer, slowly wrapping you into a warm hug and gently strokes you on the head like how he has treats his siblings. You feel embarrassed to be comforted by someone much younger than you and being treated like a child, but returned the hug nonetheless. Not knowing how much you needed a hug, you find his embrace to be pleasant and safe.

“There’s a ship heading to Liyue, so let’s get you home to where it’s warm and safe, yeah?” Home, Childe said, you wanted to retort, but somehow ‘home’ and ‘Liyue’ just sounded right. Is it okay if you return there? To seek asylum?

“Come on comrade, it’d be devastating if you missed the ride!” slumping your weak arms over his shoulders and a hand on your waist to support you, lifting you onto your feet to lead you to the harbour.

“I-I’m sorry for what happened, and that I...I couldn’t help you. If I had known what Dottore was scheming, I would have talked to the Tsarista and convince her not to adopt such a brutal method.” His cheery voice is replaced by one with remorse, avoiding your eyes.

“I didn’t know Dottore came up with such an outrageous method, the Tsarista didn’t inform us of her plan! I- I should’ve known Dottore was up to no good! I could’ve done something-” Getting agitated, his speech hastens and stumbles over his own words.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you know it’s not your fault.” You cut him off, giving him a soft slap on the back. “The Tsarista had such plans a long time ago, she just...never found the right methods until today, I guess.”

Somehow, it only made Childe feel even worse, guilt and sympathy all shown on his face.

“Come on, where’s your usual jolly self? A gloomy expression doesn't suit you at all. Teucer and Tonia will be worried for their #1 toymaker of Snezhnaya.” you mustered a feeble smile, assuring him that you’re fine.

“Well, never thought I’d hear you crack a joke after all these years…” Childe’s lips curve into a relieved and playful smile. Although, you have to admit, it does makes you feel better knowing that he’s worried for you.

“This is the Crux, you might’ve seen their crew around Liyue before. I spoke with the captain, and it’s a huge relief that she accepted our request!” You and Childe stumbled into the guest room that is kindly lent to you, with Childe immediately helping you get on the bed and wrapping you in blankets.

“You had a not-so-pleasant eventful day, it’s best if you warm up and rest now. I can’t go back with you, but I’ve contacted Zhongli, he should be there to pick you up when you arrive.” with a soft tone, Childe picks up your hand and gently strokes your palms, taking a note of your pale complexion, you remind him of his siblings when they were sick. He turns to leave you alone, about to close the door.

“Hey, Childe?” He abruptly stops and turns back to you with a concerned look, worried if you’re still feeling unwell and perhaps he could help.

“Thank you.” but only two simple words came out of your mouth. So simple and short, but more than enough to convey the gratitude and respect you held for him.

Childe breaks into a beaming smile, “Of course! We’re friends after all, right comrade? I think I’m even your best friend!” to which you chuckled. Yeah, you suppose he isn’t wrong on that.

Just before he closes the door completely, he halts and opens his mouth, “Teucer adored your gift, he and Tonia wanted to prepare something in return… I’ll bring it to you next time, yeah? And perhaps drink tea too at Zhongli’s?”

“Yes, I shall look forward to dear Teucer and Tonia’s gift then, it’s a promise.” You feel your consciousness slip away, closing your eyes and replying to Childe with a light smile on your face.

“It’s a promise!” He enthusiastically replied, only to realise he should tone it down to let you sleep in peace. “Sweet dreams, comrade.” Just before passing out on your bed, you hear Childe’s almost inaudible reply and a click on the door shutting close.

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Note

Could you do a HC on how the Mayans men would react to a girl getting hit on at a bar and the guy not taking no for an answer, like they don't know her or anything. I feel like they all respect women enough to at least do something about it; ya know?

All of the Mayans men wake up every day and drink a full pitcher of Respect Women Juice. They will not tolerate disrespect in their house. HC’s under the cut!

(I couldn’t decide if i wanted to do third person or reader insert for these but I settled on reader insert. Hopefully it works alright)

Bishop:

-Senses the tension immediately

-My man sits back and watches the entire clubhouse all night. He knows everything that’s going on. And when he notices that some guy is refusing to leave you alone, he instantly gets up and goes to intervene.

-He’s not hot-headed about it. He doesn’t have the time or the energy for that anymore. But he places himself between the two of you, looking back and forth, “Everything alright here?”

-The guy would try to brush it off and reassure him that yea, of course everything is okay you can leave now. But Bishop wouldn’t have any of that. He’d cut him off mid-sentence, “I wasn’t fucking asking you.”

-He’d turn to you and ask again if you’re alright. You’d give a slight shake of her head no, not wanting to stir up drama but also not wanting to deal with this dude anymore. And that’s all it would take.

-”I think you should leave,” he wouldn’t yell. Just state it as a fact. But when the guy would try to argue that’s when he would get a little more heated. He’d step in closer to the dude’s face, but not putting hands on him, “I said you should fucking leave.”

-Bishop only uses yelling and brute force as a last resort. Very rarely does it ever come to that. He would follow the guy all the way to the clubhouse door, making sure that he actually leaves before going back to check on the poor girl that he was harassing. He 100% lingers close for the rest of the night to make sure no one bothers you.

Angel:

-King of being the Fake Boyfriend.

-My tall boy might be emotionally illiterate sometimes but he can read a social situation. When he sees a girl scrambling to try and come up with excuses to make a guy leave her alone, he has no problem inserting himself into the situation.

-Smooth as fuck walking up to you, greeting you while resting a protective hand on your shoulder. Instantly setting the tone to whoever is talking to you that this was a useless endeavor.

- "Hey, querida,” he’d wait for you to look at him, “Sorry, didn’t see you walk in. You get a drink already? Want me to get you something?”

-The look in his eyes would let you know that he’s offering you an out to the uncomfortable situation that you’re in. He’s not trying to flirt--he’s just trying to drive away whatever asshole wasn’t catching the hint that you didn’t want to talk.

- "Who the fuck are you?” this is a problem that the guy did not see coming.

-Angel would look at him, eyes narrow, “I’m her boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?”

- The question is rhetorical. It doesn’t matter who the guy is. Angel doesn’t give him a chance to answer. He steps closer to the guy, towering over him. He looks down at him and is practically begging the guy to say something stupid so he has an excuse to physically throw him out the front door.

- He doesn’t get the chance, though. The guy reads the cue, knows that it’s a fight that he will not win, and walks away.

- Angel would turn back to you, “You good? Sorry about that. Didn’t seem like he was getting the hint.”

- You’d shake your head, “He wasn’t. Thank you, I appreciate the assist.”

- “No problem,” he’d pause, “But forreal did you get a drink already? First round on me.”

Ezekiel:

- Y’all remember the casino scenes with the cops? That’s how he handles shit.

- Master of keeping his cool in frustrating situations. Completely follows your lead. He sees a lot of weird interactions being on the serving side of the bar, always clocking what’s happening in front of him in case he has to step in.

-He’d notice you rolling your eyes and giving short answers. He’d also notice that the guy either isn’t picking up the cues, or is willfully ignoring them. EZ catches your eyes a few times, silently asking if you want him to step in. You shake your head--the guy is annoying but harmless for the time being.

- Then he tries to touch you. Casually reaching for your shoulder, trying to rest his hand on your knee. You recoil, trying to create more space between the two of you. He doesn't care though.

- That’s when EZ can’t keep it to himself anymore. He’d sigh, not looking up from the glasses that he’s cleaning, “I don’t think she’s into you, man.”

- You and the man would both turn to look at him, each of you with a surprised expression on your faces. You’d stay quiet, wanting to see how the situation was going to play out. The man next to you would scoff, “I don’t remember you being part of this fucking conversation.”

- “I might as well be if I have to sit here and watch it. You’re the only one out of the three of us not suffering from how uncomfortable this is.”

- His commentary would ruffle some feathers. The man next to you would get defensive, “No one asked for your fucking opin--”

- Knowing that EZ had your back would give you a little extra confidence, “You should listen to him,” you nod, “He’s right. We’re suffering.”

- He’d be caught off-guard by the two of you teaming up on him. Realizing it wouldn't be worth the fight, he’d huff and walk away. EZ would watch him and chuckle, calling after him, “Least you could do is pay your fucking tab!”

- You’d laugh, glad to be done with the uncomfortable situation, “His drink and whatever you want are all on me tonight. As a thank you.”

- He’d give you that little smirk, “Don’t mention it.”

Coco:

- Zero tolerance policy.

- Not coy or polite about it at all.

-Instantly uses himself as a barrier between you and whatever guy it is that’s not leaving you alone. He might not be the biggest guy in the MC, but he sure as hell carries himself like he is when the situation calls for it.

-Will not hesitate to get nose-to-nose with whoever is bothering you. If someone wants to invade your space, he’ll invade theirs. Fair is fair.

- “You really can’t take a fuckin’ hint, huh?” he’d shake his head.

- “What’s your problem?” the man’s voice would sound confident but the look in his eyes would show that he really didn't want a problem with whoever this guy was getting in his face.

- “You. Fuckin’ beat it,” he’d jerk his head towards the door, “Don’t come back, either.”

- Coco carries himself with the confidence of a man that will make someone pay dearly for coming back uninvited. Confrontational situations usually resolve themselves quickly. People tend to not want to mess with him if they can avoid it.

-When the guy inevitably leaves not just you, but the clubhouse altogether, Coco finally turns back to you, “You good, ma?”

- You nod, watching him light up a cigarette, “Uh, yea. I’m good. Thanks for that.”

- He nods, blowing out a puff of smoke, “We’ll make sure that fucker never comes back.”

Hank:

- The only thing that Hank Loza drinks is Respect Women Juice. When he runs across someone that doesn’t, it gets out of hand really quickly.

-Bull in a china shop.

- The same man who is usually calm and cool and collected, physically removes whoever it is that is causing a problem. The guys have tried to teach him deescalation skills but it never sticks. It’s the only thing that Hank gets heated about so they all let it go at this point.

- Hank isn’t a small dude. When he steps toe-to-toe with someone he almost always out-sizes them. They get about 5 seconds to hear what he says and leave on their own before he removes them on his own.

- “You should leave her alone,” the friendly suggestion is really anything but.

- The guys are almost always cocky, not thinking that anything is actually going to happen to them, “Or what, tough guy?”

- They ignored their first and only warning. What happens next is all on them. Hank grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, lifting him from the ground. His voice is quiet, which is way more terrifying than yelling, “Let’s find out.”

- Hank lifts and carries the guy out, on the brink of dragging him like a caveman. The guy is yelling in protest, trying to swing, but Hank is unfazed.

- He throws the guy down the steps of the clubhouse, giving a final warning not to come back. No longer in an agumentative mood, the man takes off in a desperate attempt to avoid getting further tossed around.

- When he goes back into the clubhouse, the rest of the guys have moved on from the situaiton--to them it was business as usual for Hank. You, on the other hand, didn't see the situation unfolding that way at all. He walked back up to you, the anger gone from his face, a gentle smile there instead.

- “Are you alright?” he looks you over as if to make sure you didn't get hurt in the midst of it all.

- “Yea,” you nod, “I’m...I’m fine. Thanks. You...you didn’t have to do all that.”

- He’d chuckle, knowing that for him it was the only course of action, “Of course I did,” he’d gently rest his hand on the outside of your arm, “Let me know if anyone else gives you any trouble.”

Creeper:

- The smaller version of Hank, tbh. Constantly out here Respecting Women.

- Remember that scene where he catches a shotgun that’s tossed to him and immediately starts shooting on the highway?? That’s the energy he has when dealing with men who disrespect women.

- Cannot easily lift and remove men the same way Hank does, but he will throw hands without hesitation.

- The guys told him no more threatening with guns in the clubhouse. So fists will have to suffice.

- Does not offer a warning to the guy. If someone is being pushy or rude, they don’t deserve a heads-up. He will try to get your attention in some way first, to make sure that you want him to intervene. If he thinks that it’s going to get out of hand, or if you let him know with a pleading look that you could use the assist, he is instantly throwing himself into the middle of it.

- He’d catch your eye, motioning back and forth between you and the man in front of you to ask if you need an out. You’d give him a slight nod and that’s all it would take.

- Walking up, he grabs the guy by his shoulder and turns him around, “Hey, motherfucker,” he’d shove him towards the door of the clubhouse, “Leave.”

- Caught off-guard, the man would shove him back. Fully-bruised ego shining through, “Keep your hands off me.”

- That’s when you’d hear the first crack of a fist colliding with someone’s jaw. Your eyes would go wide, not ever having seen Creeper get like this. His focus would be completely on the man stumbling towards the ground in front of him, “I said get the fuck out.”

- It usually doesn’t take more than one punch to get his point across. HIs muscles aren’t just for show--getting clocked by him fucking hurts. They’re lucky that he’s not big on wearing rings.

- Once the threat is neutralized, he instantly shifts back into his quiet, gentler self to check in with you. He sees the surprise in your face at how things unfolded and he holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m done, promise.”

- It’d get you to laugh. You can see it in his expression that it’s almost like a switch he can flip on and off. “Um. Thank you. That...isn’t what I was expecting. But thank you.”

- “Are you alright?” he’d sit down next to you, mindful to give you some space.

- “Yea, I’m good. How’s your hand?”

- He’d chuckle, “All good. Nothing new.”

Okay this was a lot of fun. I love all these dorks. Hope you enjoyed! xo

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Text

Training Day

AMHL – Masterlist

WARNINGS: PTSD, domestic violence & abuse, panic attack, anxiety

“I feel like you’re torturing me now,” Y/N groaned as she put the bar back down on the bench press.

Dick chuckled. “You gotta gain some strength before I teach you, otherwise you’re just going to hurt yourself.”

“You callin’ me fat, Grayson?”

His eyes grew three sizes and his jaw dropped in shock. “No, no, no, no, no. I would never!”

Then he jumped into a tangent about how beautiful he was and he loved her for how she looked and never wanted her to change, unless that’s what she wanted. And it went on and on and on.

Y/N finally took pity on him and started laughing.

“Dick, I’m just fucking with you.”

He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “That was cruel.”

But she only laughed more.

“10 pushups for that,” he demanded.

Her jaw dropped. “Noooo!”

“Yeah. Come on.”

She did as he instructed, knowing she did kind of deserve it.

Afterward, he led her to the training mats. They had done weight training for about 30 minutes or so, and Dick insisted that was going to be a big part of all this. He was right: some of the self-defense moves would only hurt her if she didn’t prep her body.

But when Dick turned to find Y/N standing at the ready on the other side, his tough-love coaching style disappeared.

She looked so small and fragile, clearly nervous for the actual fight training.

Sometimes Dick forgot that Y/N wasn’t like his family or his teammates. She didn’t graduate from field work to sitting behind a computer. Hacking and computer science was her first and only exposure to this life.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing. You just…look nervous.”

“I am,” she admitted.

With that, Dick walked across the mat and planted a kiss on her lips.

He stepped back with a smile, “Ready?”

She beamed at him and nodded.

For the next half hour or so, Dick taught Y/N all the basics of self defense: how to get out of holds, where to hit an attacker for the most impact, and how to prevent herself from getting injured in the process.

“Things are going to be quicker in real life. You’re going to have to get over the feeling of panic and calm yourself down enough to properly react,” Dick explained.

Y/N nodded with her back to him as she returned to her spot on the other side of the training mats.

But she didn’t reach it before Dick surprised her with a chokehold from behind her.

Before now, Dick had been walking her through moves step by step. But he clearly was trying to prove the point that she would most likely not be expecting these attacks. And he wanted her to get used to reacting to the surprise of it all.

Except…Dick didn’t think this training tactic completely through.

Dick hadn’t taken into account that his student and girlfriend was also a victim of domestic violence.

Since she first escaped from underneath her parents’ roof, Y/N’s had improved a lot when it came to treating and handling her PTSD.

It used to be so much worse.

Loud noises would throw her into panic attacks. People just lightly touching her without her expecting it made her jump feet away. Anytime she got a whiff of alcohol that smelled even a little bit similar to her father’s preferred brand could set her off.

Over the years, it got better.

Therapy helped. Dick helped – his whole family had helped.

But Y/N knew it would always be there, waiting inside her.

And in this moment, it decided to reveal itself once again.

Y/N’s vision blurred. All she could hear was her heartbeat making its way to her ears.

It wasn’t until her entire body was trembling that Dick realized something was wrong.

He let go.

But before he even completely let go, Y/N dodged away so quickly that she almost tripped over her own feet.

She whipped around, eyes so wide. Like a deer facing a hunter, fully aware it was about to be slaughtered.

And Dick realized how much he just fucked up.

Without even realizing what she was doing, Y/N slowly lowered herself to the ground, not trusting that her knees to not give out at any moment.

“Y/N,” Dick whispered desperately.

It was hearing how sorry he was already that made Y/N’s eyes fill with tears.

As soon as she was shakily lowered to the ground, she hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face in them.

“Can we stop?” She begged, as if she had no choice and Dick had complete control.

Her voice and sob was muffled by her knees.

“Yes, we’re stopping,” Dick immediately answered with a clear voice. "You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

But Y/N only nodded, not helping to convince Dick that his words comforted her in the slightest.

Her entire body was trembling as she continued to squeeze her knees as tightly as she could.

Dick kneeled but didn’t move any closer to her.

“Can I…Please…Can I touch you?” He whispered.

But she shook her head.

Not because she didn’t want him to, but because she felt like she had no control over her body right now. And she had no idea how it was going to react to being touched again.

And she was already mortified and confused and terrified.

“OK,” Dick sighed as he lowered himself to the mat as well. “I’m just going to sit here. OK? I’m not going to get anywhere near you.”

Y/N didn’t respond. But her body was still clearly trembling.

“Can you just breath for me?” Dick asked softly. "Deep breaths in, slow breaths out.”

She still doesn’t respond. But he can hear her trying to do as he asked.

Dick didn’t think he should say any more, worried that his talking was just making the whole situation worse. But then he remembered a tactic Bruce had taught him to console victims who were going into shock or scared of them.

“Can you count backwards from 100 with me?” He then asked.

“What?” She sputtered out, confusedly.

But it was good that she was clearly able to even process that he was talking to her.

“Countdown from 100,” he repeated gently. “100, 99, 98,” he started.

She eventually joined in.

When they reached 1, Y/N went quiet again.

It seemed to have worked.

After a few minutes, Y/N finally stood up.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” she whispered quickly, but it was so quiet that Dick almost didn’t catch it.

The next second, she rushed out of the cave.

Now that her PTSD had calmed down, she was clearly embarrassed.

“Y/N! Wait!” Dick called after her in a panic and jogged after her.

When they got to the main part of the manor and Y/N reached the stairs to go to the second floor, she had flown past a very confused and concerned Bruce Wayne.

Dick paused when Y/N sprinted up the stairs with her eyes blood shot and cheeks tear stained.

“What did you do, Dick?” Bruce grunted, not even considering that it could also possibly be Y/N’s fault.

Dick sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “I was showing her some self-defense…and I…I trigged her PTSD and she had a panic attack.”

“You need to be more careful,” Bruce reprimanded.

“I know, I know. It was stupid.” Dick already knew he messed up.

Bruce remained disappointed by Dick’s mistake.

“I’m going to go check on her,” Dick mumbled and passed Bruce with his head hung.

Dick returned to his childhood room, the one they always stayed in while visiting.

The shower was already running.

He figured he should give her some time to herself and not rush into the bathroom.

Y/N was most likely crying and wanted to hide it from him. Even though she already realized Dick would know that’s exactly what she was doing.

10 minutes later, Y/N came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam and a white towel wrapped tightly around her.

Dick’s heart broke even more when he saw her red, bloodshot eyes.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, desperate for her forgiveness.

He should’ve realized that certain things in typical self-defense training could trigger her.

Bruce had taught him to always expect the unexpected. And Y/N’s PTSD should’ve be expected while he put her under such a tense and rigorous circumstance.

Y/N hung her head in shame. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Dick.”

Her voice was so small, so vulnerable. Dick had to hold his breath to hear it.

“Y/N, you have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he insisted and he slowly stood up from the edge of the bed.

Dick wanted to go to her, but he was so scared of making things worse.

“Will you please come here?” He finally asked in a whisper.

She practically tiptoed to her boyfriend, while she held her towel tightly to her body as if it were some kind of armor.

As soon as Y/N was a few inches away, Dick gently tugged her onto his lap.

He was a very tactile man, and not being able to give her physical comfort was slowly killing him. And he felt utterly useless to help her.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed or sorry. I knew better than to surprise you like that. I was an idiot. What happened was my fault, OK?”

She nodded slowly.

Eventually his words would get through to her.

“Can you still train me?”

Y/N finally shocked Dick with her question.

“Of course, Y/N. Let’s just take it slower next time. I promise to be more careful.”

She nodded quickly, fully believing him and trusting him.

Now he put his arms around her, holding her to him tightly.

Dick had always been protective over her. But when she showed signs of being triggered, he went full mama bear on her. But that was also Dick as a person. He was so caring of everyone in his life. He was a big brother, a leader, a stand-in father sometimes even.

But it often led to Y/N’s guilt when Dick felt the need to treat her like a piece of glass. But sometimes…she was. And that was OK.

“Wanna get to sleep?” He muttered into her hair.

She nodded again.

Dick carefully moved her from his lap and placed her on the bed before he stood.

Y/N watched with love in her eyes as Dick moved around the room and grabbed some of his clothes to give to her to sleep in.

What had she done to deserve him?

“I’ll give you a minute,” Dick told her as he handed the clothes to her.

Not that he hadn’t seen her naked hundreds of times before. He was just treading carefully now.

“Want some tea?” He asked as he walked to the door.

“Sure,” she agreed quietly.

When Dick returned with two cups of tea, Y/N was already underneath the covers of their bed.

Dick watched Y/N as she took her first sip.

“You want to talk about it?” He was ever so careful in his tone, making sure it was obvious that Y/N didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to.

“There’s not much to tell,” she admitted with a shrug.

“That’s alright though.”

Y/N sighed. “As fucked up as it sounds, I sometimes forget about all the things he used to do to me.”

She chuckled darkly, “Guess that’s repression for ya.”

Dick winced slightly.

“He used to grab me by the throat. Constantly. Because he hated whenever I tried to talk back or fight him with words. So he made sure I couldn’t talk at all. It was all about control.”

Despite being trigged and having a panic attack earlier, Y/N talked about her tragic past without any emotion, and it sounded so casually. She was numb to the memories, but the scars manifested themselves in different ways now – and that was proven today.

Y/N looked up when Dick hadn’t said anything.

She was taken aback by how he looked as if he was going to be sick.

“I’m fine, Dick. Really.” She insisted as she cupped his cheek.

It hurt Dick to hear these things more than it hurt Y/N now.

“You were dealing with your past all by yourself long before you met me,” Dick answered. “But I just need you to know I’m never going to let anything like that ever happen to you again.”

He took in a shaky breath. “Even if – fuck – even if something happened between us, and we weren’t together…I’d still keep you safe. Do you understand?”

Y/N smiled.

Oh, Dick. His gentleness never stopped amazing her.

“I know that, Dick. I’ve always known that.”

Before he could answer, she added, “Now enough talking. Can you just cuddle me now?”

Dick laughed at her demanding and teasing tone.

“Get over here,” he pulled her into his chest.

Soon his grasp was so soothing to Y/N’s body that she reached the ultimate level of relaxation, especially after being drained from her earlier panic.

Y/N felt Dick kiss the top of her head before she fell asleep in his arms.

–––––––––––––––––––

ALL BONUS CONTENT CAN BE FOUND: HERE

#AMHL bonus content #all ment have limits #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing reader insert #batfam #batboys #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x platonic!reader #batman universe #dc

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regretthatsme · 3 years

Text

Looney's Sister - Harry Potter x Fem!Lovegood!Reader

That's right bitches, bros, and nonbinary hoes. I'm back. I'm so happy that I finished a oneshot. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I'm sorry I've taken so long to post. But, it's here now!

Harry didn't know when his fondness for Luna's sister, Y/N, started. He just knew that he liked her a lot. They were quite good friends, actually. A few years ago, she saw him struggling with herbology, which just so happened to be Y/N's strong suit. It quite convenient honestly, especially when you consider the fact that Y/N was have issues in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He knew from the start that his feelings for her were more than platonic. What he didn't expect was for him to fall so hard. But, how could he not when she was so perfect.

Her bubbly personality was so inviting and warm. Her eyes made e/c his favorite color. He adored her laugh; it sounded like a beautiful melody. Her smile was just as stunning.

Godric, I'm whipped, he thought. There was one issue, though. He couldn't for the life of him ask her out, ironic for a Gryffindor. What if she doesn't like me? How do I ask her out?

His mind would race into the late hours of the night, wondering how he would work up the courage to ask her out. He knew she wouldn't like something big and extravagant, for she had trouble processing lots of information at once, much like her sister. Her sister!

Harry wondered how he never thought of asking Luna before. I mean, their personalities mirrored each other almost perfectly. He quickly ran to the forbidden forest. Luna spent most of her time there.

"Hello, Harry." A dreamy voice called to him.

"Hello, Luna."

"Is there a reason you are here?"

"Umm... yeah." Harry's face became very hot suddenly, a stark contrast to the nippy weather that morning. "I-uh. I should probably come right out and say it, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, that would be most appreciated." Luna responded. Harry couldn't tell if she was sarcastic or not.

"I've fallen deeply in love with your sister, and I was wondering if you knew how I could ask her out."

Luna was clear shocked by this revelation. She thought for a few minutes before replying, "I appreciate your honesty, however I cannot say that I am too pleased with it."

Harry's face fell slightly. "What does that mean?"

"Harry, she's recently had her heart broken by another. I'm sorry, but I do not trust you with her love."

-*-*-*-

He knew he shouldn't be over thinking this. He knew that it was pointless. He knew it was only going to give him stress, but he couldn't stop as much as he tried. Who would dare hurt her? Her? The most caring, beautiful person in Hogwarts?

Needless to say, Harry's eyes were sporting some serious under eye bags the next morning.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Asked Hermione during breakfast, noting the discoloration under her friend's eyes.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"He was up late last night." Said his best friend and roommate, Ronald Weasley.

"No, I wasn't, Ron."

"Okay. Fine. You went to bed at a reasonable time." Ron said before turning to Hermione and mouthing No he didn't. Harry was about to retaliate before a small body sat down next to him. A dreamy voice rendered his speech effectively useless as a flush filled his cheeks.

"Hello Hermione, Ron. Good morning, Harry." She addressed each individually, as she always does. "How are we this morning?"

Ron smirked a small bit at his friend's face. "Oh, I'm splendid." He remarked, chuckling slightly at his friend's state. "What about you, Harry?"

Y/N seemed to perk up at the name. Her head turned to him, only now noticing the rosy hue on his cheeks. "Oh dear, you don't look so well." Her voice was distinctly quieter, almost as if she only wanted him to hear. Her hand slowly came up to feel his forehead. "You're absolutely scalding! And it's clear you haven't gotten any sleep."

She panicked slightly.

Ron tried to hold in a laugh. "Oh, yes. Harry was hacking and wheezing last night. It was horrible."

Harry's eyes were about the size of saucers. "What are you doing?" He whispered.

"Trust me." He mouthed back.

"He's in no shape to go to class. Someone must take care of him." Harry just realized what Ron was trying to do. Wanker.

"I would, but Hermione and I have a test first period." Hermione nodded too, quickly becoming aware of his scheme. "Looks like you're going to need to take care of him. I really wish I could help."

Y/N's eyes never left Harry's face. "Be sure to tell the teachers about Harry's predicament." She said as she dragged him out of the great hall, despite his protests. She knew the password was as she was a frequenter of the Gryffindor common room. He was led to his dorm and was forced onto the bed.

"Y/N, I'm gonna tell you one more time. I'm not-"

"Shhhhhh." She cut him off. "Harry, relax. I can't remember the last time you did." She did have a point. He couldn't remember the last time he had a stress free hour, much less day. "I'm going to go to the kitchen and whip up something. Get some rest, alright?" He nodded his head. His eyelids slowly fluttered and closed. He didn't really dream, but he felt a sort of presence. It felt like a giant hug.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he woke to the sound of Y/N closing his bedroom door. "I made a soup with some clowort root mixed in. It should help with your symptoms." She said. "And, there is some water to wash it all down."

"You never cease to amaze me." He said rather bluntly in his sleepy delirium. He took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted quite like the food in the great hall, but there was something distinctly different from it. There was an unmistakable taste of... home. He quickly went for more.

"Slow down, Harry!" Y/N's volume raised ever so slightly. "Consuming large amounts of clowort root can lead to some unwanted side effects."

"Like what?"

She gestured for him to lead forward, as if telling him a secret. "People tend to make quite irrational decisions when copious amounts of clowort are in their system." She pulled back and gave a stern yet loving gaze.

"I don't know. I've eaten a decent amount and I don't feel a thing." He said indifferently. She simply rolled her eyes and looked away from him.

"Hey. I uh... I heard from Luna that you had some trouble with a boy and I'm here if you need to talk or anything." He knew that he probably shouldn't invite his crush to talk openly about a romantic partner she had, but he would listen to her talk about anything and everything just to hear her voice.

"Oh. It's nothing. Just a stupid fling that hadn't even lasted a month." Y/N said, her eyes becoming more solemn looking.

"It's just... if I had a girlfriend," especially one as perfect as you, "I would treat her better than that."

"I can see the brash decision making has already taken effect." Y/N jokes lightly, but only was laughing at it.

"I'm serious, you know." He said, grabbing her hand and lacing her fingers through his.

"Harry, you're not thinking straight-"

"Ever since we met each other and you helped me with your helped me with my homework. You were so kind."

"Harry, please don't-"

"I understand if you don't feel the same way, I wouldn't be so keen on falling in love someone who nearly dies every other weekend either, but I needed you to-"

"Harry." Her voice was ferm enough to cut off his incoherent ramblings. Her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. "You're not well. You're saying things you don't mean-"

"No, I'm not-"

"Harry, I can't have my heart broken again." Her eyes held a certain glossiness to it that he hadn't seen before. Her voice was almost breaking. "You are amazing and sweet and beautiful and... well, words can hardly describe how much I admire you. But," Her eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid eye contact. "You're just doing this because you're sick and under the influence. You don't mean it-"

"Yes, I do!" Harry giggled slightly. He was getting a bit frustrated at this point. "What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

She looked deep into his emerald eyes. They say eyes are the window to the soul, and they weren't lying. Every emotion, every thought running through his pretty head, everything could be seen in them. It was so intense, she could only make eye contact for a few seconds.

"Nothing." Y/N whispered. Harry's head snapped to her. "I believe you, Harry." They sat in silence for a while, processing the revelation that just took place. It was a bit awkward. Okay, very awkward. The apprehension of the unknown was creeping upon them. Now what? Where do we go from here?

Harry was the first to make a move. He held his arm out, inviting her join him on his, rather small in hindsight, bed. She happily accepted and curled into his side. She was practically on top of him due to the size of the bed, yet he couldn't be happier. Neither could she.

Bonus:

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?" Y/N was positive that Luna's cries could be heard throughout the entire castle.

"Luna, please calm down-" She tried to console.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

#harry potter #harry james potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter fluff #luna lovegood

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diofasolia · 3 years

Text

{Always}

{Shattered! Dream x Reader}

Shattered! Dream by @shattereddreamsau

Writings by me

Today (8/7) is Shattered! Dream's birthday and I decided to post a writing I did last year—which is also the reason why I eventually join in the tumblr

Because back when I wrote this story, I found Dark Cream comic, which made by amazing @zu-is-here

Her creations give me the inspiration for the writing

The story is long (it has like 2000 words in it) and may be a bit cheesy, but I'll be happy to know if you read the whole thing (◡ ω ◡)

******

Before the story start, I want to ask you a question.

Do you believe that the worst person can change?

Oh! How awkward, sorry, I ask the wrong question.

What I meant to ask is—

Do you believe that the best person, the kindest person in the world can change?

Maybe…all it needs is a tiny push?

The harsh whipping hits in my abdomen again. I kneel on the ground, thinking how deep the scar might be from that blow.

"What're you doing!? Look at your king when I'm talking to you! Such a piece of useless trash!!"

"I apologized, My Lord."

Raising my bruised neck, I gaze at the former guardian of positivity. Those eyes that used to hold the tenderness, now only fill up with hatred.

"Where're those fricking basters!? I told you to track down my brother and other Sanses!"

"I'm sorry, My Lord. They escaped. I can't find where their location is–"

Not even waiting for my sentence finished, another powerful punch land on my face. I watch as a tooth fall out of my mouth. Blood dripping down my chin.

"Worthless! Can't even do a little task like that!"

Multiple kicks and insults throw at me. The numb feeling slowly occurs in my torso as I curling up into a ball.

Closing my eyes, the memories from the past arises in my mind, bringing me back to the day that I seal my fate.

"Dream? Earth to Dream!"

"(Y/N)? What's wrong, love?"

"What's wrong? I've called your name for five times! But you didn't answer to me."

Dream scratches the back of his skull, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Is that so? I'm sorry, (Y/N)! It won't happen again, I swear!"

I cuddle Dream close, letting out a giggle.

"It's fine! I don't really mind it. But Dream, you tend to space out recently. Is there something on your mind? You can tell me everything, you know that, right?"

Giving me a kiss on the cheek, Dream smiles gently. He assures me that there's nothing to worry about. It’s just the task of guardian makes him a little exhausted.

"Well, if that's the case, go on and get some rest! I will inform you if something was up."

"Okay! Thanks, (Y/N), I'm glad I have you by my side."

"Me too, my dreams and hopes."

It's been quiet in Dream's room. He must be very tired. I knock on his bedroom door, telling him to wake up.

"Dream, I know you're tired. But you still need to eat."

"Dream? Are you awake yet?"

There's no answer.

Guess I’ll have to get into his room.

Yet no one is there, only an opening portal hanging in the air.

A portal leads to Dream's corrupted universe.

"I'll show you, brother. I know what you're feeling…I know what you're going through…"

"No! Dream, stop!! You don't know what you're doing!!"

Two vague voices shouting in the distance. I begin to run like my life is in danger.

What the heck is going on here?

What is this dreadful feeling?!

I'm too slow.

The half bitten black apple lay on the ground. I watch in horror as the small tendrils creeping out Dream's eye sockets. His painful screech rings in my ears.

"Dream!!!"

I reach out to him, hoping that I can comfort Dream in my arms. The positive energy…they gotta do something, right?

"What…? Nightmare! Let go of me!! I need to…to get Dream!!"

"No! You can't get near him now, (Y/N)! You'll…you'll get hurt!"

I thrash in Nightmare's hold, screaming at the top of my lungs.

"Dream!! No! Dream!!!"

"What's wrong, love?"

My teary eyes stare up, it's…Dream's voice.

But it sends an unknown coldness down my spine.

"Ahh, you're crying! Good, keep doing that."

A sadistic grin spreads on Dream's face.

"I love it."

Nightmare is already sobbing, begging for his beloved brother to come back. I walk step by step to Dream, putting on the best smile I can muster.

"My love…Dream…please, come back to me…! I love you. I know you're strong enough to resist those negative feelings…"

Dream cackles loudly. The tentacles wrap tightly around my neck, pulling me closer to him.

"Go back? To my weak self? (Y/N), when did you become stupid? Why would I do that?"

"I've already past the point of no return."

A bucket of freezing water splashes on me. I must have passed out during the abusing session.

"Wake up."

"Get clean up, we're leaving."

I pick up my sore body, stumbling across the lonely hall that me and Dream live in. There's no one here except the two of us.

"Make a choice, (Y/N). Will you join me? Or will you prefer to disobey me like my coward brother?"

"I'll go with you."

I want to weep, yet I can’t even shed a single tear. I shouldn't be upset. After all, it's me who decided to follow my corrupted lover.

Filling up the bathtub, I submerge myself in the steamy water.

"Why, (Y/N)!? Why are you side with him!? Open your eyes! Dream doesn't love you anymore. He's just using you!"

"It doesn't matter, Nightmare."

"Great job, (Y/N)! You make this AU full of despair and miseries! I always know you're my favorite soldier!"

"It's my pleasure to serve you, my lord."

I scrub my blood-stained skin, the wounds sting because of the soapy water. Some of the old gash reopened, making me yell in frustration.

"We can save Dream! Don't lose any hope, (Y/N)!"

"How? There are barely things we can do. It's over, Nightmare. Look at yourself! You transfer back because Dream shattered! How are you gonna turn him back? By let someone else eats a black apple again?!"

The white dirty bandages wrap around my mess up torso. Why am I even bother treating my injures? They sure are going to reopen soon anyway.

"No matter what you say to me, I won't change the path I've chosen, Nightmare."

"I've already gone far enough."

"I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

I hate it so much.

The smell won't disappear no matter how many times I wash it over and over.

I hate it.

My hair smells like those disgusting goop on Dream.

Why can't I get rid of this sickening stink!?!

Throwing the bottles at random direction, I tug my hair till I scream out.

"What's with all that noises in there!? You better finish your business soon, I'm losing my patience!"

I hate it.

"I deeply apologize for making you wait for such a long time, my lord."

I wish I can understand your pain sooner.

"Whatever, time to leave."

I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

"My lord, where are we going, may I ask?"

Dream's left eye glows in excitement.

"I find out where those sneaky scums are hiding."

With a wave of hand, Dream opens the portal leads to an unknown empty place.

No one is left out.

Nightmare, Ink, Blue, everyone's here.

"And I'm going to give them a pleasant encounter."

But today is a little different.

Then all hell breaks out.

Nightmare's starting to transform. The dark gooey substance covering up his body gradually.

The same routine as usual. Nightmare pleads Dream to stop his actions while the former guardian of positivity just laugh it off, a bit talks here and there.

"Miss me, dear brother?"

The crazy laughter of Dream rings in the air.

"Yes! Finally, things are getting interesting!"

While Dream focusing on battling with Nightmare, I have to handle the two other skeletons.

"I know deep down you don't want to fight us, (Y/N)! Let's just drop our weapons, okay?"

Ink creates a bunch of arrows, ready to launch them at Dream. I block his charge immediately, slashing Ink's arm with my sword.

My silence is always my only answer.

"No one's going to get near Dream."

I continue to attack Blue. We've already been through this conversation many times.

"How…how's this possible?!"

Dream can only defense himself from Nightmare as the latter one keeps on firing attacks. It looks like Nightmare gets more advantage of the battle.

"Seems like you can't control your tentacles very well yet, little bro."

Nightmare mocks, resulting Dream to lose his temper. He strikes at Nightmare blindly, only to receive a powerful blow in the guts.

"Dream!!"

I rush to Dream, who’s looking more exhausted than usual. From the way how he’s panting heavily, I know he's already losing too much strength to fight.

"Get away from me! I don't need your help!!"

The attack is sloppy but I didn't dodge it. Dream can beat me all he wants after I get him to safety.

Even if it means I can possibly die.

"My lord, I apologize, but we have to move to another universe again."

Dream growls at me.

"It's you who are dragging me down!!"

They're still following us.

I'm whacking to the ground in a flash. A heavy boot stamps on my ribs harshly.

The nasty cracking sound and my piercing shirek fills in the air.

"You're no longer useful to me."

I watch as Dream disappears in a portal. He doesn't even spare a glance at me. Leaving me bleeding and slowly dying on the ground.

"I've told you."

Nightmare's lurking shadow towers above me.

"Oh no, Ink! We must save (Y/N)! She's…!"

Ink put a hand on Blue's shoulder, shaking his head solemnly.

"We can't, Blue. Remember, our priority is to capture Dream."

"Please, Night…"

I find myself pleading to Nightmare.

"Don't…kill Dream…"

"You and I both know that's an empty promise, (Y/N)."

Three skeletons begins to move towards the portal that opens by Ink. Before they leave, Nightmare whispers in a quiet voice but loud enough for me to catch.

"…he's in Dreamtale."

How much will you sacrifice for protecting your fallen love?

"You really are dumb. You know that?"

"Or you're just enjoy me breaking you apart bit by bit?"

"Don't you scare of your own nightmares?"

"I deserve it."

"I'm already living with it."

"You will always be my fading dreams."

"It's my own redemption."

"Surrender now, Dream. Then we can put an end to this whole mess."

My time is running out.

"Heh, I thought you know me well, dear brother. You should get the answer by yourself now."

"…goodbye, my poor little brother.

I pray to you, God. Let me see him one last time.

I can't save him the last time.

It's always a miracle how accurate the portal can lead to.

"(Y…Y/N)?"

This time, I'm going to save Dream.

There's no pain anymore.

"…at least…you……say my…name……one…last……time…"

Crimson blood drips down my penetrated torso. I think I see Dream's crying. But that might be just my own tears.

Forgive me, Dream.

My collapsing body falls forward, landing on the soft grass surface before me.

(3rd pov)

"Nightmare, I need your assistance."

"I thought we're enemies now."

"There's a method I want to try. It might succeed to bring Dream back."

"Well, I'm here to listen."

"She's just a tool."

"Nothing else."

"Because I know him well. The extreme emotion is the only possible way to get things right again."

Dream mutters to himself like a broken recorder. Staring the wrecking body of yours, his non-existent heart begins to hurt.

"I refuse! That's too dangerous! You surely will be dead in this terrible plan! Besides, how can you so sure he'll behave like you predict!?"

"It's worth it. I'm doing this for the whole alternate universes, and him."

"But…you…"

"Wake up! I demand you to wake up now! (Y/N)!!"

"It's not…worth for your own life."

"Don't pity me. Pity for the one who can't help himself in his own nightmare."

"Wake up."

"Don't leave me…alone, (Y/N)…please…my love…"

Ahh, it must be the time when he transfers into this horrible creature.

Nightmare, who’s now in his uncorrupted form, widening his eyes.

"…congratulations, (Y/N). Your suicidal plan…works."

Dream doesn't recall when’s the last time he breaks down.

No one dare to speak a word, except Dream drowning in his own pitiful cries.

"Always."

"I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

You look at Nightmare with a smile, replying to him like it's the only correct answer in your mind.

#my writings #solia's writing #shattered dream #shattered!dream #dream #shattered dream × reader #sans x reader #sans x y/n #ink #blue(underswap sans)#nightmare #fanfic #I think Shattered is kind of a special character me #hope you guys enjoy the reading uwu #tw violence #tw angst #tw death #tw a bit abuse mention

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 12: Changes •

A/N: The missing gaps in time are on purpose since they will be in book 2 as flashbacks, which will include references to events you have not read yet. All fluff and shenanigans this chapter to make up for last, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: brief mention of nausea and gore towards the very end, but otherwise, tooth-rotting fluff!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧

𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

- David Bowie, Changes

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗠𝗜𝗗 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

"I still can't believe you went after Bowers," Richie scoffs.

As he steps off his porch and onto his lawn he looks over at his best friend and takes another gander at the bruises and welts littering her skin. Her lip was still busted and despite his and his mother's efforts to clean her bottom lip of blood, it must have started bleeding again sometime during the night as more had crusted over.

"Yeah, well," she shrugs. "It felt good,"

"Yeah," he snorts. "It looks like it,"

"You know what I mean," She elbowed him and he nodded with a little laugh.

"What d'ya want to do? I mean, we could keep standing around here like a bunch of idiots, but-" he shrugs, hands falling into his pockets, and Y/n smiles.

"I dunno," she shrugs. A wince falls over her face, a painful-looking one at that. "But I don't think I'm gonna be welcome back at the Capitol Theatre any time soon."

Richie nodded, a ghostly look falling over his face at all that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours alone. He still couldn't believe she had done that. He still couldn't believe a lot of things but her being in his corner after what she had found out seemed a little harder to believe right now. Especially after the junkyard... But - Jesus, that was already a week and a half ago, it felt like only hours.

He could hear her words from the park the other day in his ears and he suddenly felt the urge to pay her back. He smiled his charming crooked smile and hoped for the best.

"You still craving fries?"

"Always," she answered, a look of suspicion written in her features. "Why?"

Y/n didn't know why she kept asking these questions when she knew the answer. She didn't at all like the look growing in his eyes or the stupid feeling of guilt growing in her stomach.

"Cause I'm prepared to make a deal with ya toots,"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Sure am," he says, patting his hand over his left pocket. "I'd been saving up for a long weekend at the arcade but that's a bust. And I just got a raise on my allowance ━ that's again, toots. Allowance. It's the money you get when you do stuff for people, you might never have heard of it--"

"Is there a point here, Rich? Cause if so, you better get to it faster,"

"Point is, I'm packing and I'm also craving milkshakes. So how's about I treat you to the biggest pile of fries your staved ass has ever seen--"

Y/n shoots him a knowing look, ready to detest when he holds out a finger.

"If," he continues. "you take me there."

"Take you there?"

"Take me there," he nodded. "By piggyback."

Y/n gave thought to this, all while hiding behind an unimpressed look. As much as she hated to admit it, she was starving.

Richie shrugged. "Hey, you're the one always saying you don't want to feel like charity. Well, this ain't charity, this is work with a reward. Take it or leave it,"

Her unimpressed look grows stronger in an attempt to buy her time. But it's useless, her stomach answers for her with a long growl and a smile sneaks up on her.

She steps forward, crouching down a bit for him to jump on her back. "Alright, let's get this over with."

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

"You know, I was really worried about carrying you, but dude, you weigh like nothing. You're a fucking bean pole," Y/n says.

She comes to a slow before straightened her back letting him slide off her back and onto the ground. The two of them had arrived at the nearest diner in the town square where they now stood.

"Well, not to brag or anything, but," he fluffs his collar. "I took a massive shit before we left,"

"Ugh!" a shocked and uncomfortable laugh breaks loose from Y/n and she sticks out her tongue in disgust. "Regretting this already."

She threw open the doors and the two found themselves inside one of Derry's lesser diners.

It smelled like sausage and coffee beans, and it had a vibrant red and black theme. There were maybe nine or ten people there, little kids included and they could hear the jukebox blasting a David Bowie song. Y/n had a hard time enjoying it with the combination of a full bladder and an empty stomach so she turns to Richie and nudges him with her elbow.

"I'm gonna run to the restroom. Get us a booth?"

"Do your thing," Y/n nods and disappears around the corner. As his eyes follow her, they land on the corner in question she had disappeared around where there sat the jukebox.

He wanders over, eyeing the machine as Changes reaches a crescendo. A mischievous smile blooms as the lights from the window illuminated his face.

"Three plays for a dollar, huh?"

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

When Y/n returned from the restroom, she had expected to find Richie lounging in a booth somewhere, feet up and bugging the employees. She did not expect to turn the corner and nearly collide with the boy as he stood at the Jukebox and feeding all his money into it.

"Dude! I carried you here, you owe me fries!"

"And you shall get them my liege," answered Richie in a Shakespearean tone. "But first!" He dropped the act and looked away from the Jukebox for the first time, wearing an almost evil grin. "A social experiment,"

Y/n's brow furrowed as she watched Richie punch in the same Tom Jones song over and over and over. It was then she caught on to what he was doing. She held out a hand as her eyes watched the Jukebox.

"Hey, hey, hey, wait," she said, stopping Richie in his tracks.

He looked up at her with a pout. "Relax, toots. I saved just enough for their biggest basket of fries, you'll get them." Then Richie saw the look on her face. He could practically see the gears turning.

"No, not that. It's just..." she said, eyes never leaving the list of songs. "Before you put in more, you should throw in one It's Not Unusual,"

And that's when the afternoon went from good to great.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

By now, the duo had ordered and waited. They now sat tucked into a corner booth with a great view of the street corner and the passers-by of Derry. Changes had long since ended, and the remaining songs in the queue had trickled out. Richie memorized the song queue and was silently counting down until the big moment as he sat across from his battered-up best friend.

Her busted lip poked out in a bored pout, her chin propped up on her palm as she balanced her head on the table while looking out at the graying town landscape. It always escaped her how Derry could possibly look so gloomy on even the hottest, brightest days of summer. Until recently that is, the truth all too clear to her and her friends now.

The thought of the Losers scattered all over this hellhole only added to the gloom. They should all be here, together. Pointlessly debating which condiment goes best with fries, not fighting over... Over what they had fought over.

Y/n's eyes finally broke away from the manhole at the center of the little intersection outside and wandered over to Richie. He had stolen the salt and pepper shakers from a few empty (and not so empty) tables and was currently doing his best to construct a salt and pepper shaker tower. His tongue was sticking out from between his curled lips and his glasses were sliding to the end of his nose at the angle he looking. The tower was nearly three shakers high and Y/n could hear him muttering, 'where's Haystack when you need him?' under his breath.

The gloom Y/n had been thinking so intently on was suddenly ebbed away at the sight, and the corners of her lips hooked into a small smile.

At least she had her favorite Trashmouth.

"If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I'm gonna catch a cold," said Richie, never once looking up from his tower.

Y/n snorts. "You're unbearable,"

Richie shrugs defensively. "Hey, you're the one who said we're stuck with each other," he clicks his tongue and winks. "No going back on that kind of deal,"

"Oh, I meant what I said," Y/n releases her chin and folds both arms on the table. She hated getting all serious again, but she just needed to be sure. Her voice softens, trying to catch Richie's eye. "All of it, okay?"

Richie's hand around the salt shaker stops, and he pries his eyes off the tower and to his best friend. Despite her intentions and promises, everything that transpired the day before -- good and bad -- flooded over him and made him tense.

She suddenly offered him her pinky and a small smile.

"Stuck forever?"

Richie rolls his eyes. He didn't quite know who to blame, maybe just the losers in general, but he was going all soft and lame.

"Like my ass and a toilet seat, toots,"

He locked his pinky with hers and the deal was sealed forever.

Y/n leaned back on her side of the booth and took a large swig of the complimentary water as her eyes returned to the streets. The chatter of the diner had died down a little. There weren't as many people since they got there, but they were still filtering in and out. But when Y/n had a hard time shaking off the images she had of her best friend in the state he had been, she deems it safe enough to lean forward and lowered her voice.

"You know," she began picking at her napkin, making slow and tiny tears here and there. "I--" she sighs, not knowing how or where to begin. "I wouldn't blame you."

Richie, having abandoned his shaker tower, frowns.

"I wouldn't blame you if maybe, it was -- or is hard to be..." she shakes her head again and rubs her forehead trying to find the words. "I wouldn't blame you if it was hard to be around me and Eddie," She blurts.

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Richie says. "We're not gonna do that, okay? You have exceeded your sappy meter and you're gonna need to wait about 48 hours for it to charge up again. I think we've both had enough, right?"

Y/n swallowed her words. She swallowed any promise she was holding out to him that their feelings for Eddie wouldn't change anything. That she wouldn't ever want to stand in their way, however true it was. And instead, she made a new one.

"Let's just agree, whatever happens, happens. Let that be whatever it needs to be. Even if that means neither of us gets to see that adorable, asthmatic pipsqueak ever again. Deal?"

Y/n fought the bittersweet smile threatening to appear. She could see it now. Richie knew what he needed to know about himself now, and that was already a lot for him to handle. She could see in his eyes he wasn't ready for the possibility of whatever was his feelings for Eddie Kaspbrak.

Y/n's stomach turns to knots when the thought crosses her mind, but that only confirms to her it was time.

She looks around the diner, looking for prying eyes and she still finds none. She leans in, voice lowered as she fiddles with her napkin again. "I'm uh--," she clears her throat. "I've never told anyone this, but..."

She lets out a sharp breath. "Well, let's just say Eddie isn't the first Loser I've ever had feelings for,"

Richie shakes his head, making a "what am I supposed to do with that?" face at her sudden shyness. She only gives him a solid stare until it finally clicks.

Richie collapses against the seatback with a gaping, triumphant look.

"No. Fucking. Way," Richie slaps his hands on the table and leans forward, and an ugly excited laugh comes barreling out of his chest. "You big homo!"

"Would you fucking shut up?!" Y/n hisses, reaching over and shoving him back against his seat by his forehead. She looks around the diner and determines no one had heard that. Maybe except one guy in his forties, but that was most likely about him knowing they did something to the jukebox. He was sat with his young kids, looking tired and all too suspicious of their laughter at the jukebox. Finally, she laughs a little. "Beep, beep you moron."

"You telling me you and Little Orphan Annie...?"

"I'm saying," Y/n sighs, shrugging her shoulders. "I meant it when I said you're not alone, alright?"

The look in Richie's eyes hardly changes.

"No!" She answers. "No, nothing's happened but..." Y/n shook her head. "I had feelings for a really long time, up until about two years ago."

"Wowza," Richie sighs, leaning back into his seat and plopping one hand on the table. He sighs. "We sure know how to pick em,"

"Yeah, you could say that," Y/n laughs.

In fact, that's all she could say. A million things ran through her head, things she wanted to say to Richie but couldn't. Cause when she looked in Richie's eyes at that moment she -- they both -- knew everything unsaid could remain that way. With one look they knew. They knew that they could both count on each other, have each other's back. And that included Eddie too. They knew that no matter who held Eddie's heart, they could both agree that Eddie's happiness -- and each other's -- was most important.

The sound of brass instruments invaded the atmosphere, pulling the duo's eyes to the jukebox across the diner. Their faces lit up in matching grins, both of them nearly forgetting the psychological horror they had just unleashed upon the diner.

"What's new pussycat? Woah, wo~ah,"

And thus began the best meal they ever had.

- 𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

Y/n relished at the demanding burst of cool air that bombarded her sweaty skin as she stepped inside Keene's pharmacy. The grip on the money she had scraped together tucked tightly in her right palm grew tighter when the shopkeeper's bell announced her arrival. Her eyes fell to her injured leg, and by now her feet have already begun their journey forward towards the first aid supplies. The last of the bandages secured around her leg, and she winced at the faded and stained cloth that was in dire need of a change.

Her eyes pick up from the ground when she hears a choked gasp only to find the boy that had been occupying her thoughts standing before her.

"Y/n," His voice is meek and heavy with sadness, and you can hear the absence of breath in his lungs that she always seemed to create.

Despite the staggering stampede of emotions she felt, she found herself releasing a chuckle. "Hey, shrimp."

The name itself would have been strong enough to send hooks into the corner of his lips, tugging them into a half-smile had it not been for the sight before him; she was a wreck. Looked as if she had been put through an actual wringer and his heart stops for a moment, in fear. At that moment he is grateful he has his inhaler, Y/n had a talent for taking his breath away but he never would have dreamed of it happening this way. Already his mind is going at twice its speed, a mad swarm of thoughts that dizzy his head, and as quickly as he can he tries to pluck one - just one - thing to say to her. When he finally speaks, he is thankful that his voice has returned to him.

"How's your leg?"

He doesn't have to ask, the first thing he saw - the very feature that tipped him off about her - was the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around her left calf. He couldn't imagine why it would still be bleeding, much less this profusely given how long ago it had been. Perhaps it had opened back up. And Eddie felt it best not to address the new set of scrapes and bandages that were scattered across her arms and legs, though each one filled him with worry. But her eye... it was completely swollen, and several shades darker than a usual bruise.

She grew rather sick looking at the question and instantly he was filled with dread. Had It gotten to her again? Was it something new entirely? Either way, he felt a great deal of guilt he hadn't been there, and more than anything he wanted her safe. Maybe, if it wasn't too crazy, be the one to look out for her. To protect her.

"I just," she swallows thickly, eyes darting around to avoid his eye line.

Eddie tilts his head, encouraging her to continue. She looks as if she's about to unload a great deal off of her chest, but after a moment she shakes her head.

"Nothing," she lies. "Just need new bandages."

Eddie's horrified expression does not waver, but only intensifies, zeroing in on her. He just simply can't ignore the state she's in. And while every instinct inside him screams to jump in and help, he knows that's not his call nor his place. But he had to ask, he had to know.

"Are you okay?" He blurts suddenly. He mentally slapped himself. Of course she wasn't. "What happened...? You're leg? You're eye? Are you in trouble at home? Was it...?"

She grows tense, and Eddie scolds himself once more when he sees her walls rebuilding themselves. He hated his stupid word vomit sometimes.

"No, Eddie!" she says tiredly, sighing at her slight outburst. "I'm..." she sighs again, staring at the floor, looking almost... calculated.

Finally, she picks her head back up, her expression flat, but her tone a bit softer. "Just Bowers. The usual."

Eddie couldn't help but feel like she was lying. And that hurt him. But he understood. If she had pressed him about things at home he probably would have done the same. Eddie sighed deeply as well.

He missed the way things were.

He missed Y/n.

He missed the feeling he got around her, the storm of butterflies and mind-numbing fits of laughter they'd bring out in one another. He missed the way his skin would tingle like every blood cell was on fire when their skin accidentally brushed together. Eddie missed the way he'd lose himself in thoughts about her like he was now.

Eddie didn't realize it until that last thought crossed his mind, but this was the first time in weeks he felt something other than anxiety and fear. And maybe he was crazy, but when he looked in Y/n's eyes now he thought he saw it too -

"I'm sorry, Eddie," she says, breaking him from his daydream, sending him falling back down to earth. "But I really need to take care of this."

He glances down at her leg, the bandage still soaked with blood and he feels fear squeeze his chest again. She was leaving. And that meant he had to, as well. He would have to say goodbye and go back home to his mother. He could hear her haunted cries, whining at him and wailing. What took you so long, Eddie? Don't you know what you're doing to my heart?

Eddie goes rigid at the thought when he realizes; the last time he saw Y/n... Those horrible things his mother had said to her and he... Jesus, what she must think.

"Y-Y/n," he sputters desperately as she begins to limp around him. She had gotten no answer for once again he had gotten lost in his thoughts. But he couldn't have it end like this. He just couldn't. "Y/n, I'm sorry."

She stops in her tracks and looks back at him, thoughtfully. A sad smile graces her face.

"I know, shrimp,"

Her eyes hold a thousand words, a million things she wants to say to him as he wants to say to her. But they die out, and she turns away.

"Y/n!"

He couldn't let her go, he just couldn't. Then why was this so difficult? He always had a mouthful to say, but around Y/n L/n, Eddie was always speechless.

"I wanna..." he gulps, a pleading, sincere look in his eyes. "I wanna see you again." He admits.

Y/n smiles sadly. Like she doesn't want to let him go either. But still, she gives him a pleading look after gesturing to her leg.

"Eddie, I gotta take care of this,"

His head sunk to the floor and he nodded, embarrassed. Of course, what the hell was he thinking? She didn't need him coming in and messing things -

Her sudden sigh broke his thoughts. "Meet me outside in five? I could use some help,"

A nervous smile broke out, stretching and hurting his cheeks and Eddie nodded when he met her eye. He was out the door without another word, back in the alley where he had first bandaged her up all those months ago.

His mind raced with possibility and more unanswered questions. What would he do, what would he say? What had happened to her, and could he have been there to stop it? His face still burned with embarrassment when he thought of the things he let his mother say to her, how livid he was with himself.

It was all he could do not to bounce off the walls from the jitters. The crates from the last alley visit, or at least some like it, remained and so Eddie eagerly took a seat. His knee bounced up and down at unnatural speeds as his mind raced, his eyes wandering the alley as the wind swept in a familiar summer breeze against his cheeks.

"I really need to focus right now," he orders, his hands making delicate work of the bandage over the new kid's stomach.

"You need to focus?" Richie snorts over his shoulder, causing Eddie's cheeks to burn.

"Yeah, can you go get me something?"

"Jesus! What do you need?"

"Go get my bifocals. I hid 'em in my second fanny pack."

Y/n leaned forward, balanced on her knees with a crooked smile that would with Eddie for days. "You have a second fanny pack?"

The burning in his cheeks grew, and Stan joined in. "Yeah, why do you have two?"

Eddie didn't dare meet anyone's eye, let alone Richie or Y/n's.

"I need to focus right now and it's a long story. I don't want to get into it."

Besides! He was telling the truth! He needed to focus. Who knows what kind of shit has gotten into this kid's system by now?

Eddie had nearly finished with the new kid's bandages when he heard the jingle of the store bell.

"Yep. Thanks." Came the hardened voice of Y/n backing out and towards the alley with a pressed and forced smile before turning for the alley and away from whoever she had been talking to. Eddie was the only one to have caught the small whispered words under her breath from the silence of the alley. "-for nothing, I guess..."

Eddie shot up from his seat, subconsciously straightening out his shirt.

"Everything okay? What was that all about?" He asked as Y/n finally joined him. Eddie sputtered, mentally kicking himself for prying. "I mean, you don't have to tell me or anything, it's just you seemed frustrated. You know what never mind, you probably want to get your leg fixed up, right?"

Eddie stopped again, shifting on his feet when he realized Y/n must be waiting to talk. "Sorry," he mumbled. And to his great surprise, she smiled.

"Don't be. I've missed your word vomit," she joked.

Eddie could feel the corners of his lips twitching up in a smile, and something happened to him he hadn't felt in a long time; flutters invaded his chest, making the air he breathed feel lighter and his stomach was doing flips. And he would have fallen harder had he known Y/n's stomach was doing flips right along with him, and a burning sensation lighting up her neck and ears.

"Well, here-" Eddie said, snapping out of his daze, no longer able to stand by and ignore the gash in her leg. He supposed it really was like old times. He stepped aside, gesturing for the crates and taking the bag of supplies Y/n had handed over.

"For real though," Eddie began, eyeing her nervously as he unzipped his fanny bag and begun fishing inside for hand wipes. "What happened, Y/n?"

Her smile fell, and her eyes dropped to her lap where her fingers fiddled together. To Eddie, it felt like a long time before she finally answered.

"A lot's happened since Niebolt, I'll leave it at that,"

Eddie nodded, and stepped forward, lowering himself to his knees before her injured leg, and began unwrapping the first of the supplies from her grocery bag. "It feels like years ago,"

"Yeah, it does," Y/n croaks.

There's another small silence and Eddie feels a tug in his chest when her eyes linger over him. He only spares a moment to meet her eyes back before taking a deep breath and holding it. With a wince, he unraveled the cloth and quickly discarded it. He tried not to linger on the injury; the edges of her claw-like scars remained, but it looked as if they had been messily pried back open.

Like deja vu, Eddie found himself battling to keep his lunch in his stomach, but the overall worry in his system for one of his best friends triumphed over it this time around. He dismissed the urge to gag and instead darted his eyes to Y/n in between his work.

"So..." he asked, realizing he didn't really know where to start. "how have you been? Other than, you know," he laughed nervously.

To his relief, Y/n smiled.

"It's hard not being around the losers. I only ever see Richie anymore. Even Bev and I haven't really spoken since the fight, which has been really hard. We've been in each other's lives for so long,"

As Eddie finishes cleaning the wound, his heart sinks a little at her words. True, he missed Beverly very much. But he also knew all too well what Y/n spoke of, and judging by the look in her eye as she softens at him, she knows it too. She gives him a gentle nudge with her foot.

"He misses you too," she says, growing another small smile. "Won't shut up about you, in fact. Which is saying something... Guess I'm one to talk, though," she adds, watching him nervously out of the corner of her eye, and Eddie's heart skipped another beat.

"What about you, shrimp? Dare I ask?" She says with a smile.

Eddie, Y/n noticed, had been unusually quiet. By now, on any other occasion, he would have talked laps around her by now but something was keeping him. Maybe he just feels a bit out of step, she thinks, as she did. It had been far too long since things had been normal for either of them. But something told her he was now particularly quiet perhaps because he wasn't all that eager to share how things had been for him since the losers split. She couldn't imagine things had been well at home with his mother given everything that had transpired.

So she didn't pry. She changes the subject, hoping to get his mind off of whatever might be bothering him. Her mind returns to his previous questions, and she bites the bullet.

"Quitting my job." She says finally, stunning Eddie enough to pull his attention away for a split second. "You wondered what I was doing there. And aside from restocking, I was um... I was quitting my job."

"You got a job at Keene's Pharmacy? When?" Eddie asked, reaching for a strip of gauze.

Y/n seemed to think about it for a minute, counting the days in her head before shrugging. Leaning forward, she holds the gauze in places Eddie begins applying the bandages. "I guess a little over two weeks after Niebolt. I did little things around the store, this and that really,"

"How come I never saw you?" Eddie asked, and Y/n shrugged.

"He had me running errands most of the time," and she smiled a little. "But sometimes I'd stick around a little longer. I'd offer to sweep or restock the shelves or something. It's stupid, I know, but... I don't know, I guess I was hoping to see some admittedly cute... shrimpy little dude come walking in to refill his inhaler. Is that stupid?"

Eddie paused, unable to hide the smile or the raging blush taking over his face. Y/n smiled to herself when she saw it, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't feeling a little bit of it too. Finally, Eddie spoke. Or at least, he tried to. His voice came out hoarse and he cleared his throat, quickly shaking his head as he secured the bandages in place and began disinfecting his hands.

"No. No, that's not stupid at all. I mean, I don't know if I'd say shrimpy, necessarily, maybe a little skinny but-"

Y/n laughed, smiling hard at the boy she hadn't stopped thinking about for weeks. Like Eddie, she hadn't realized just how much she had missed him until now. But, she hoped, maybe she could change that.

Eddie trailed off, his ears burning at her laugh but a smile on his face all the same. At this moment, everything was perfect. Or seemingly so, at least. And then...

"Thanks, Doctor K,"

He smiled, a sinking feeling in his chest knowing what was coming next as she hoisted herself back on her feet. "Yeah, of course."

A silence falls over the two, a silence they know won't last.

"I guess I should get going," Y/n says finally, gesturing down the alleyway. "I'm meeting up with Richie later, he's swinging by my place." And for a moment, she looks hopeful and Eddie already knows what she's going to ask. "You're welcome to come. We both really miss you,"

Yet again, Eddie Kaspbrak finds himself with a million thoughts racing in his head, but no words on his tongue. What could he say that wouldn't hurt her? What could he say that wouldn't essentially admit he was still a coward who couldn't stand up to his own mother? What could he say?

But evidently, he doesn't have to. Y/n can see it in his eyes, and any trace of hope deflates with her. She nods sadly, eyes now on the ground and her freshly bandaged leg. "I get it, Eddie. It's fine. You don't have to say anything."

"Y/n..." He didn't know what felt worse; knowing he let her down, or the sound of her using his real name.

"Really, it's okay,"

But it wasn't okay. And Eddie knew that. Today he had been given a second chance with Y/n, and already he had fucked it up. Or so he thought...

A smile returned to her face just before she left; it wasn't nearly as bright as it had been moments ago, but it was as real as any other he had seen all summer. And then she spoke. She spoke the three words over her shoulder as she disappeared out of view that returned a familiar spark to his chest.

"I'll call you."

There was hope yet.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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strawberrylemonz · 4 years

Text

A Mother for Two

Welcome to the continuation! As always, time to dedicate these chapters! Hope you all enjoy, especially @applepie1000

@petrichormeraki I will fist fight you lmaooo /j

Part 3

Part 4 [CURRENT]

Part 5

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

“You two sure you have everything you need?”

“We’re sure, Xisuma, jeez. It’s not like we’re leaving for good, we’ll be back by tonight.”

Grian snickered as Tommy was swiftly swatted on the backside of his head by Xisuma. Huffing, the boy griped as the group walked over to the portal leading to the Hub. As Xisuma gave the two another look over, Grian finally spoke up.

“Tommy and I will be just fine. We’ll just set up the fliers, get supplies, get our asses back here. Done, easy work.”

“Yeah, easy work!”

“Nothing is easy work when the two of you are together for too long. Just don’t cause too much trouble, nothing more than usual.”

After bidding farewell to Xisuma, the two boys walked into the portal. Instantly, voices chatting with each other filled the silence. The two stepped out of the portal and into the Hub. Players of all kinds here entering and leaving several portals. As the two made their way through the portal transportation section, Tommy examined all the portals.

Hermitcraft

Stampy’s Lovely World

Pixelmon

MCC

Hypixel

Cops and Robbers

There were so many portals to so many places. He had only been through the Hub to get to MCC. He was always focused on getting to his destination that he didn’t stop to look closely at every other portal around him. Stopping in his tracks, he stared at a ruined portal. It was grand and beautiful, but falling apart. It was cracked and broken, no longer activated. The giant sign above it proudly held it’s name, keeping the world from being forgotten.

SMP EARTH

Grian was walking when he felt something off. Turning around, he noticed that Tommy wasn’t following him. Tilting his head and looking around, he saw that Tommy was just standing there, staring. Excusing himself as he pushed passed the crowd, he eventually made his way to his brother. Before he could get onto his brother for immediately separating from him, he saw what his brother was looking at. Making a humming noise, he nudged Tommy before pulling out a large banner. Tommy nodded in understanding, and helped Grian unravel the banner. Working with haste, the two strung up the banner on the inactive portal. Once it was secured, they stood back and admired their work.

GRAND OPENING!!!!

HERMITCRAFT PROUDLY PRESENTS:

INNIT AN ADVENTURE?!

We, in Hermitcraft, happily invite you to join us in the opening day of our latest amusement park, Innit an Adventure! Created by our very own TommyInnit, we encourage you to spend the day with us! Come join us as we make unforgettable memories! Keep an eye out for festival week, and join us for a wonderful night of dancing!

Are you innit with us?

“Looks great!”

“Of course it does, we made it.”

“Yeah yeah, lets just finish the set up.”

Smiling, the two boys set up two podiums underneath the banner. Taking out a good amount of pamphlets and fliers, they neatly set them down on the podiums. Content, the two began to walk away from the portal as people began to stop at the ruin, murmuring in excitement for the adventure park.

“This is going to be a success, I can already tell you that. Good job, baby brother.”

The two laughed as they made their way through the portal Hub. Grian noticed some people he recognized and waved them over, already pulling pamphlets out of his bag. Tommy laughed as he looked around, fliers in hand, searching for anyone who was willing to get one. That’s when he saw it. Gulping, he quietly walked up to a neon green portal.

DREAM SMP

Reading the sign attached to the portal, Tommy saw that only whitelisted people could enter. He was whitelisted. He could walk in, right now, and possibly lose his final life tied to the world. Shaking his head, he snapped himself out of his thoughts and scoffed at them. He liked it in Hermitcraft, he didn’t want to leave it for a terrible past. He didn’t have to worry about permanently dying in Hermitcraft. He didn’t have to worry about losing his shit or having said shit used against him.

“Although...”

As Tommy mumbled to himself, he eventually came to a final decision. Nodding to himself, he crumbled a couple fliers and chucked them into the portal, sending them to the SMP. It was common knowledge that, even though people couldn’t enter, they could send items. With the fliers crumbled up, it would appear as if random passerby’s just threw trash in, making it easy for Tommy to deny inviting them.

Tommy knew that he didn’t want to go back to his past, that much was crystal clear. But what was stopping his past from going to him? If they missed him as if and wanted to see him again, they would need to make the effort. Humming with approval, he walked over to Grian, who was finishing talking to his acquaintances.

“Hey, big man, maybe we should send some of the fliers and pamphlets into the portals.”

Grian thought for a bit, before nodding in agreement. Taking half of Tommy’s fliers, Grian gave him half of his pamphlets. Nudging towards the main server, he explained his plan.

“I’ll handle the portals and the travelers, okay? You go out and hang up banners and set up more podiums. Meet me at Feast Street for lunch, okay?”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I can do this, I’m not useless.”

“Far from it. See you later, Toms, love you.”

Tommy stood in silence, watching his brother walk away. His brother’s proclamation of love had caught him by surprise. A smile formed on his face as a warm feeling bursted through his chest. Looking around, he found some crates nearby. Standing on them, he inhaled before hollering out.

“GRIAN!”

He saw his brother turn around, confused. He felt his face flush as a couple of strangers faced him as well. Ignoring them, he yelled out in confidence through the crowd.

“LOVE YOU TOO, BIG BROTHER!”

He saw Grian laugh, a big smile painted on his face. The two exchanged waves of goodbyes before turning their separate ways, ignoring the cooing noises from the crowd. Tommy laughed as he situated his satchel. Nodding, he made his way down to the capital city.

--------

Things were going great for Tommy. Do take note of the use of past tense, just pointing that out there. Now, Tommy was being scolded as if he were a child again. For Nether’s sake, he was 18! Yet, here he was, being scolded for something he didn’t do.

“I swear that I didn’t do shit!”

“Then why are you being so defensive?”

“Because you’re accusing me of crap that I didn’t even do!”

Apparently, according to the stupid shopkeeper that was currently giving him a hard time, some kids were going around and stealing stuff from the shelves. Due to the stress, the shopkeeper immediately accused Tommy of being apart of that group of kids. She wouldn’t let him leave, even after he explained himself. So there he stood, feeling like a helpless child once again.

“Is something the matter?”

Tommy turned to see a petite woman standing behind the shopkeeper, arms crossed. Despite her height, or lack of it, she seemed very intimidating. At least, that’s what the shopkeeper seemed to believe.

“Oh, ma’am, my apologies! I was just reprimanding this deli-”

“My son. You’re reprimanding my son.”

“Son???”

“SON??? WHAT???”

“What is she doing?”

“NEW PARENT POG???”

“Huhhhhhh??????”

“FINALLY OBTAINING A MOTHER, POG???”

“MUMZA???”

“MOTHERINNIT???”

Tommy perked up at this, peering over at the lady once more. The shopkeeper seemed flabbergasted at how blunt the woman was with her. The woman, however, stayed firm with her stance and gaze.

“You’re son, ma’am?”

“Yes, my son. How many times do I need to repeat myself? I sent him in here to buy some fresh fruit to snack on before lunch, but I now see that was a mistake.”

“W-Wait, no! Ma’am, I didn’t-”

“We will find a different shop to go buy fruit at, instead. Do think about things before acting. Here,”

The woman grabbed a flier and a pamphlet from Tommy, handing it to the shopkeeper.

“You can make things up to both me and my son by telling shoppers about this. Now, we shall take our leave. Come on, dear.”

The woman held her hand out to Tommy, who nodded his head and took it. She led him out of the store and to the street, ignoring the apologies coming from the shopkeeper. Once they were a good distance away, she let go.

“Sorry about that, but you seemed stuck with her hounding you like that. I was going to ask for a flier or pamphlet, but figured I should help you instead.”

Tommy blinked a few times before laughing alongside the woman. Chat was laughing alongside them, taking a liking to the mysterious woman who had saved their little pogchamp.

“Ah, I should introduce myself. I’m Kristin, very nice to meet you! I’m originally from SMP Earth, but I somehow ended up here many years ago.”

“SMP Earth? Holy shit, I’m from there, too! I’m Tommy, by the way. Well, my actual name is Thomas, but everyone calls me Tommy. I’m from Business Bay, but I eventually became the youngest prince of the Antarctic Empire.”

“Youngest prince? Are you Phil’s brother?”

“What? Nah, he adopted me as his son.”

Tommy was startled as the woman, Kristin, began choking on air. Alarmed, he pat her back as he gave her a water bottle he had on him. After a while, she raised her hand and nodded, indicating that she was okay.

“Wow, he has a son. The world is ending, hah.”

“Four, actually. He has four sons.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to have a heart attack.”

Tommy laughed before asking what was on his mind. Judging by the breezy feeling that moved across his starry face, he knew that Clara led this woman to him.

“How do you know Phil?”

Kristin’s face brightened up as a small blush painted her cheeks.

“Er, how about I tell you about it as we walk?”

“Better yet, why don’t you tell me and my older brother about it over lunch?”

--------

Grian was not expecting Tommy to come back with an older woman. He didn’t mind, however, after hearing how she saved his brother from the shopkeeper’s rage. Laughing, he ruffled the younger boy’s hair.

“Haha, you found a mother!”

“We’re brothers, so wouldn’t that make her our mother? Sheesh, dumbass.”

Kristin laughed out loud in the background, holding her stomach and she doubled over. Tommy happily smiled, very glad to have someone appreciate his language. Once they all gave proper introductions and a reason as to why Kristin was with them, they all got food and sad down at one of the outside tables. After getting a few decent bites into their meals, Tommy spoke up.

“So, how do you know Phil?”

“Ah, yes, that old fart-”

She smiled as both boys snorted at that statement. Taking a bite out her bread roll, she waited for them to settle down before. Nodding her head, she continued.

“It’s true, he is! Anyways, I knew him when I lived back on SMP Earth. I was, well, am the princess of a smaller kingdom back there. Phil’s parents had started a small kingdom of their own, the Antarctic Empire. My parents, along with his, arranged for the two of us to be married to one another. I would have usually thrown a fit at an arranged marriage, like I always did when they brought up suitors, but Phil and I actually liked each other, so we agreed. I disappeared before the wedding, however, fell through my mirror and into a hardcore world. Once I made it out of there, I ended up here. Been here ever since.”

Grian started choking out of surprise. Tommy and Kristin both moved quickly to help him, worried. Once he gave them a sign that he was okay, he adjusted himself.

“You’re Queen Kristin?”

“Queen?”

“Yeah. I read it in one of the books in the archive when I was younger. Although you disappeared, you were still married to my dad, and the two kingdoms were merged into one.”

“What?”

Kristin stared at Grian, confusion and disbelief painted her face. Suddenly, she groaned and hit her head against the table.

“This explains why some of the things I bought took way too long to finalize! My last name has been Minecraft this entire time!”

Tommy and Grian shared a look of disbelief. This was the only thing she was concerned about? Being married to Phil wasn’t troubling or shocking news to her at all! Suddenly, Tommy’s eyes widened as he gasped, pointing at Kristin.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! THAT MAKES YOU MY ACTUAL MOTHER.”

--------

Kristin helped them finish setting up banners and podiums. She also aided them in passing out fliers and pamphlets to passing people. Once they ran out, she walked them over to the Hub. As they stood at the entrance portal to Hermitcraft, Tommy hugged Kristin, who ran her fingers through her head. She may have been new to the whole mother thing, but her caring instincts were enough to comfort the young boy.

“I wish I could come, I really do, but I’m not on the list. I’ll have to wait until opening day.”

Before Tommy could whine, Grian spoke up.

“What if we got you on the list? Would you move in, then?”

Kristin laughed as she pat Grian’s shoulder, a smile painting her face.

“Of course! I just found out I had family! You guys aren’t getting rid of me that easily. Here, take this. If you guys get me on the list, use this to get to my house.”

Tommy brightened up as he was given a compass labeled Kristin. He nodded as Grian promised.

“Bye Kristin! See you around!”

“Bye Tommy, Grian, I’ll see you two soon.”

The boys watched as she walked away, a pep in her step as disappeared into the crowd. Nodding to each other, Tommy and Grian went home.

#memories in the stars au #memories in the stars #hermit!tommy au #Mumza #Mumza has entered the game #kristin minecraft

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sergeantsporks · 3 years

Text

Another Shot At Life

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation

Ao3

Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.

Ch 3/7: Rainstorm

Ch 1, Ch 2

Vee wrinkled her nose at Hunter as she passed him. “Are you seriously never going to change?”

Hunter tugged his cloak more firmly around him, setting down his sketch of the portal door. “I like my uniform. It reminds me of home.” He pulled off his gloves. He’d need titan blood to get home—he couldn’t risk anything happening to the bit on his gloves.

“You’re going to start smelling.”

“Vee, be nice,” Camila commented as she strode by, “But—yeah, Hunter, I think she might be right.” She grabbed some odd… weapon, maybe? It was like cloth attached to a curved handle. “I’ve only got a couple of appointments today, I should be home soon. We’ll watch something together, I’ll make popcorn. You’ll like popcorn, Hunter.”

Hunter jumped up, skidding in front of the door. “Are you crazy?” he yelped.

“What?”

“It’s pouring out there!”

Camila blinked. “Uh… yeah? That’s why I have an umbrella? Sweet of you to be concerned, though, thank you.”

Vee giggled. “Oh! Hunter, the rain doesn’t boil here.”

That was what Uncle Belos had told him, but... Hunter glared distrustfully out the window at the water pouring down from the sky. “Are you sure?”

Camila stepped out onto the porch, holding up her cane weapon. It extended, forming a canopy over her head. She held a hand out to Hunter. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

He gingerly reached for her hand, and she grabbed it, pulling him under the… umbrella? She gently tugged him out from under the porch overhang, splashing into a puddle. He scooted closer to her, staying under the protective dome of the umbrella.

Camila held one hand outside of the canopy, the raindrops splashing harmlessly on her skin. “See? Not boiling. You try.”

Hunter tentatively reached out, his hand stalling at the edge of the umbrella’s protective area. Camila nudged his hand out, and he winced as the first raindrops hit his skin, reflexively jerking his hand back in.

It was fine. No burns. No heat. He poked one finger out, drawing it back in quickly. Still nothing.

Camila put her hand over his, and he tensed. She gave his hand a squeeze. “Hunter. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He reluctantly let her pull his hand out in the rain, flipping it palm-up, and cool, fat droplets splattered down on his open hand. “See?”

Hunter blinked at the rain, wiggling his not-burning fingers. “…Huh.”

Camila walked him back to the porch. “I have to go back now, see you two soon.”

She got in her car and drove off. Hunter stood on the porch, watching the rain.

“Are you going to come inside?” Vee asked in the doorway.

Hunter stuck his hand out in the rain, then pulled it back in quickly. Nope. Still not boiling.

“Hunter?”

Hunter took a deep breath, and stepped out into the rain, tilting his face up. Raindrops splattered down his face, and he was almost instantly soaked. He kicked a puddle, and a laugh escaped his mouth. It didn’t boil. It really didn’t. He whirled back around to face Vee.

“It doesn’t boil!”

She looked vaguely amused by the whole thing. “No, it doesn’t.”

Hunter jumped in a puddle, soaking his feet. “Ha!” He dashed up to the house and grabbed Vee’s hands, dragging her out into the rain. “Isn’t this great?!”

She kicked a puddle at him. “I’m cold-blooded!”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s not that cold, though.”

Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by an echoing boom, and Vee shrieked, disappearing into the house. Hunter gave the sky a regretful look, and followed her, closing the door behind him. Red fluttered to his shoulder, then chirped irritatedly at how wet he was, and flew back into the air, shaking water off of its feathers. Vee was nowhere in sight, but she’d left behind puddles of water that he followed up the stairs and to her closed door. He tried the knob. She hadn’t locked it this time.

Hunter poked his head in the room. “Vee?”

Her eyes blinked at him from under the bed, and she hissed.

Hunter reached under the bed. “Hey, what are you—”

Sharp, needlelike teeth pierced his hand, and he jerked back. “Ow! Hey, what’s wrong with you?!”

“I don’t want to,” she yelled, “Go away!”

Red landed on the ground, starting to hop under the bed, chirping softly. Hunter reached out and grabbed it. “No! She’s scared, she might hurt you on accident!”

Red warbled reproachfully at him, and gently pecked his fingers until he let go. The little palisman hopped closer to Vee, nudging her hand and chirping reassuringly that she was okay, and no one would hurt her—not that she could understand it.

“Vee?”

There was another peal of thunder, and Vee hissed again.

Hunter got flat on his stomach, peering under the bed at the basilisk. “Hey. Does Camila know that you’re scared of thunder?”

Vee shook her head.

“Okay. I won’t tell.”

Vee crawled out from under the bed, cuddling Red to her chest. She flinched as another peal of thunder echoed, but didn’t go back under the bed. “Why would I want to hide it from her?”

Hunter sat up. “I—uh—I mean…” he thought about it. “I—I don’t know?”

Vee nudged him. “You’re soaked.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, guess I am.” Vee stood up. “I’m going to change into something dry. You should do the same.”

Hunter squeezed water out of his cape. “I’m fine.”

“You’re going to catch a cold, and you’re going to get the couch soaking wet.” Vee opened a closet and threw a towel at him. “Get changed.”

Hunter made a face at her, but traipsed back down the stairs, picking up the clothes Camila had left for him. They were a bit big, but not so big he couldn’t just put his belt back on. Goosebumps rose on his bare arms. He did not like this. There was no defensive value to this outfit. He glanced regretfully at his dripping-wet armor. The padding on the inside of that would take a while to dry out. He shouldn’t have gone out into the rain wearing it.

There was another rumble of thunder, and Hunter heard a crash from upstairs. When he got up there, Vee was under the bed again. She didn’t hiss when she saw him, though—a little voice in the back of his head said it was because he wasn’t wearing the uniform of her abusers.

Hunter reached under the bed again gingerly, ready to pull his hand back if she tried to bite him again. “Hey—c’mon out, it’s just noise.”

Vee grabbed his hand, pulling his arm under the bed. “Whoa. You’ve got a lot of scars.”

Hunter yanked his arm away, tugging at the short sleeves he was wearing in a useless effort to cover all of his arms. “Hey! Don’t…”

Vee crawled out from under the bed, sitting next to him. She tugged up the sleeve of her own hoodie and held up her wrists, which had thick scars on them. “They kept us chained up, and the manacles rubbed away the skin.” She tugged the hoodie sleeves back down. “No matter what form I take, the scars still follow me.” She stared at him expectantly.

Hunter crossed his arms, staring up at the ceiling. “When I was… little… I didn’t listen. I was always getting into trouble. Emperor Belos, he… he has a condition. And… he gets these attacks. And… when I was still new, I… I wanted to help. And… he would lash out. It wasn’t his fault,” he added hastily, “He isn’t trying to hurt me, he can’t control himself during the attacks, and I kept getting too close, and… And then when I got older, I finally learned my lesson and stopped trying to help. It was my fault. All of them were—I never listened, I talked back, I was awful.”

Vee set Red in his lap. “Hey, Hunter? How many of those scars actually happened during an attack?”

“A-all of them.” Hunter scratched his palisman’s head, hands trembling. “I would set him off when I misbehaved, because emotion makes curses act up, you know, so when I made him mad, it would—”

“Hunter!”

He jumped. “What?!”

“That’s not—he hurt you!”

“It was my fault! I deserved it!”

Vee groaned, putting her head in her hands. “You need help.”

Hunter crossed his arms again, pressing his arms to his stomach so that the extra fabric of the shirt would hide the scars. “I’m fine.”

Vee sighed, opening her closet door and tossing him an over-sized hoodie. “Whatever you say.”

He tugged the hoodie over his head, and relief swept over him when his scars were covered up. “Um… Don’t…”

“Let me guess; tell Camila?”

Hunter pulled the hood of the sweater up, twisting the drawstring around his finger. “Yeah. That.”

“Hunter, Camila is… she’s a good person. You don’t have to hide anything from her. What are you scared she’ll do?”

“I—I don’t know, I just…”

“She won’t hurt you.”

“I know that, I just feel like…”

“Feel like what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Hunter?”

Hunter threw his hands up in the air, startling his palisman. “I just—I’m scared. Okay? I don’t know what I’m scared of, I’m just scared. And I know it’s stupid! I know you keep telling me that Camila won’t hurt me, I know she hasn’t hurt me, there’s no reason, I just… I just still feel like I need to hide.”

“Who are you hiding from?”

“Camila. Kikimora. Belos—I don’t know. I just…”

Red snuggled into his hood, chirping softly.

It’s okay. I’m here.

Hunter pulled his knees up to his chest. “Why do you hide from the thunder?” he shot back at Vee, “It can’t hurt you, it’s just sound, and hiding under the bed isn’t going to protect you from it.”

Vee sighed. “Yeah. Okay. That’s fair.” She stood up. “Did I ever teach you how to use the stove?”

“I know how to use a stove.”

“Okay, come on, then. I’m freezing—you owe me some hot chocolate.”

Xxx

Camila shook water off of her umbrella, leaning it against the door and stepping inside the house. Vee was huddled under a pile of blankets, Red the cardinal perched on her head, and Hunter was sketching that odd door picture again.

“Oh, hey, you got changed!”

He nodded. “My uniform got soaked.”

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

Vee shot Hunter a very pointed glance that Camila wasn’t sure she wanted to know the meaning behind, and nodded. “It thundered, and it really scared me.”

“Aw, Vee, mija, I’m so sorry. I’ll pick up some earplugs the next time I go shopping, okay?”

“Thanks, Camila.” Vee extended a hand from her blankets and scratched Red under the chin. “Red helped me through it.”

“Really? That’s sweet.” Camila smiled at Hunter. “Thank you for sharing your palisman with Vee. That was very nice of you.”

His whole face turned beet red and he flipped his hood up, pulling the drawstrings tight and mumbling something incomprehensible.

Camila set her purse down. “Alright what do we want to watch? Tomorrow’s my day off, so we can stay up late.”

Vee brightened. “I want to watch Stephen Universe!”

“Again?”

Vee shrugged. “I really like Amethyst. Besides, I think Hunter will like it.”

Camila laughed. “Alright, Stephen Universe it is.”

Xxx

“I’m going to tell the emperor.”

You can’t hide from me, Hunter.

“Red!” Hunter snapped awake, fumbling for his palisman. The bird landed on his chest.

It’s okay. I’m here.

Hunter gently patted the bird, sinking back into sleep. “Yourrrrrre okay,” he murmured, closing his eyes again. “You’re…”

Don’t talk back to me!

Hunter, you cannot upset me! The curse will hurt you.

“Hunter?”

Someone shook him, and Hunter lashed out, punching Camila right in the face.

The blood drained from his face, and he put his hands to his mouth. Oh, Titan. Oh, he’d—oh, no. “Sorry,” he squeaked.

“Ow!” Camila fell backwards, holding her nose. “Ow—you’ve got a strong arm.”

Hunter didn’t move. He held stock still, eying her warily. Camila was nice, but he’d just attacked her. That wouldn’t just fly.

“Sorry if I startled you. It was just—you looked like you were having a nightmare.” She blinked at him, her face lit up by the blue glow of the TV. “Hunter? Hello? Are you okay? Say something.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Hey—it’s okay. Heck, I’ve gotten bitten by Vee when I startled her before. If anything, I should learn not to surprise people. Are you…”

Hunter curled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. “Just… a nightmare.”

Camila gingerly reached out, putting her hand on his shoulder. It was… odd. It felt nice. Comforting, even. “Hunter, I… I know you don’t like talking about your home life, but has Belos… does he hurt you?”

Hunter recoiled. Why did everyone keep going on about that?! “Not on purpose! I—it’s the curse, and if I make him mad, it makes him lash out, and—it’s my fault, really.”

“Hunter, he shouldn’t hurt you, curse or no!

“It’s not his fault!”

Camila shook her head. “There is no excuse, Hunter. None. I don’t care if he has a curse. He shouldn’t—and he certainly shouldn’t blame you for it.” Camila wrapped her arms around him. “I am so, so sorry that he made you feel like you were the problem. And I am so glad that you’re here now, instead of there.”

Hunter felt tears spring into his eyes. No one had ever… apologized to him. And Camila was just so… warm. And soft. And he hadn’t even had to do anything—she didn’t ask him to do anything, she didn’t need him to do anything, she just… wanted to help him. She was the exact opposite of Uncle Belos.

And it was worrying how much he liked that.

#toh #the owl house #toh fanfiction #toh hunter #camila noceda #vee noceda #my writing

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mortimer-writes-sometimes · 3 years

Note

Alrighty, so this is an idea I've been having about the bartender for a while: if you remember sans' workshop, I actually thought about the idea of sans being gone, and grillby finding the key and beginning to explore the skeletons' past.

Just a random idea, and I also love how you write your stories, I can literally imagine the scenario happening❤.

Oh, I really like this one! I hope you don’t mind that I went in the angst direction with this. It turned out to be a little long and might not have been exactly what you were looking for, but I hope you like it anyway! Also thank you so much for the compliment, I’m thrilled that you can enjoy it.

I Never Knew You. I Never Will.

Word count: 2951 Warnings: Genocide route and all that entails Summary: Grillby can’t find Sans after the evacuation. When he finds himself in Sans’s lab, his world comes crashing down around him.

Preface: This takes place near the end of a genocide run. The remaining monsters have been evacuated to the True Lab by Dr. Alphys. Determined to avenge his brother, Sans left the safety of the lab to judge Frisk.

Grillby felt like he was floating as he made his way through the crowd of monsters around him. This had to be a nightmare. It couldn’t be real. He watched from outside himself as he searched the crowd for familiar faces, stumbling as he was pushed aside by a monster rushing to greet their spouse. People were calling out for each other, sobbing as they found their family members or wailing as they realized their children hadn’t made it. It couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t be.

He couldn’t see any of the Snowdin guards. Where were they?

No, he couldn’t understand, this wasn’t real.

He couldn’t find his niece. He heard someone screaming her name above the crowd and realized it was him. Where was she? Where were Grillby’s brothers, his parents? He hadn’t seen them in so long. They had to be okay.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

It was.

Reality came crashing down. Grillby snapped back into awareness and choked, sickened by the lingering smell of dust as sheer panic gripped him. His friends were dead. His family was dead. They’d been fine just yesterday, how could they be dead? What kind of monster- no, what thing could do this? He struggled to breathe as he felt his whole body seizing up. It was all he could do not to puke, head spinning as he leaned against the nearest wall. He couldn’t breathe, his vision was spotty, was he dying? Was this what it felt like, for your soul to break apart?

Grillby sank to his knees, trails of steam pouring from the corners of his eyes as he sobbed. Everyone he loved was dead.

No. Wait. He was forgetting someone.

Where was Sans?

The fire elemental jerked his head up, frantically scanning the crowd. Sans had been the one to come for him and tell him to evacuate to Hotland. He’d taken Grillby’s hand and told him there was no time to explain. They’d taken a shortcut to Alphys’s lab, skipping Waterfall to be sure Grillby wouldn’t get hurt by the rivers and rain. Sans told him a human was attacking every monster in sight. He told him to stay put, then left to help with the rest of the evacuation. It had only been after the fact that Grillby realized Sans had been wearing Papyrus’s scarf, and it was covered in dust.

Alphys’s underground lab had quickly filled with frightened monsters. The remaining members of the royal guard had spread the word and were getting people out as fast as they could. Sans could only take one person at a time using his shortcuts, but he still managed to get dozens of people out. Despite it all, they weren’t fast enough. The human was destroying everything in its path. They got to Waterfall, Hotland, and the Core faster than everyone could get out. Survivors started showing up covered in lingering dust.

Grillby forced himself to his feet. Sans had to be nearby. All the survivors had been moved to safety, hidden underground. There was no reason for Sans to still be searching. There was no reason for him to be anywhere but by Grillby’s side, safe and sound. Where was he?

The bartender spotted Alphys handing out blankets and walked over, desperation gripping his soul as he stepped in front of her. “Dr. Alphys, have you seen Sans anywhere? He was helping with the evacuation. He should be back by now.”

Alphys stopped in her tracks. “H-he isn’t here?” She looked around, nearly as worried by the news as Grillby. “He s-said he was taking a- a shortcut home. He was o-o-only going to grab some- some more blankets and food.”

Dread enveloped Grillby’s soul, threatening to break it. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. “Why would you let him go back out there?!”

“The h-human is, um, in New Home,” Alphys stuttered out in her defense. “Sans c-c-can teleport. He doesn’t h-have to get, um, anywhere n-near the human. It should b-b-be safe by now. I’m sure, um, h-he’s probably safe. He’ll be back any moment now! I’m s-sure of it!”

She didn’t sound sure enough for Grillby’s taste. He pushed past her, continuing his search as he went from room to room. Sans should have been back. What if he’d exhausted himself and couldn’t teleport again? What if the human doubled back, searching for survivors, and found Sans?

A flash of red caught Grillby’s eye. A long piece of red fabric was left draped on one of the medical beds. Papyrus’s scarf.

Grillby pulled out his phone, shakily picking the dusty scarf up. Surely Sans had his phone on him, right? The phone rang… and rang… and rang…

“Congrats, you’ve reached the voicemail of Sans the skeleton. Picking up the phone is too much work right now, so I probably won’t answer if you call me back. You can leave a message, but I probably won’t check my voicemail either. Just text me. Or call Papyrus. See ya.”

The fire monster wanted to cry. He called again and again and again. It went to voicemail every time. He tried texting him, begging Sans to answer…

But nobody came.

Grillby was moving towards the elevator of the lab before he truly comprehended what he was doing. Alphys saw him and rushed after him, grabbing his sleeve. “W-wait! Where are you going?”

“You said Sans was at home, didn’t you?” Grillby answered quietly. “I’m going to find him.”

“You c-can’t! It’s not safe-!”

Grillby turned around, his flames burning hotter as he snapped at her. “But it was safe for Sans to leave, was it?! Don’t be so hypocritical! If you’re truly concerned about the safety of monsters, let me go!”

Alphys fell quiet, trembling a bit. She let go of Grillby’s sleeve and hunched over. She hated being yelled at. Grillby immediately felt guilty, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I just-”

“N-no.” Alphys wiped at her eyes and adjusted her glasses. “You’re right. I sh-shouldn’t have let Sans go. Let, um, let me find a r-rain jacket for you. It will be dangerous for y-you to get through- through Waterfall on your own.”

Grillby was quiet for a moment, then just nodded, letting her leave. She came back moments later with a rain jacket, rubber boots, and an umbrella. The fire monster took them and thanked the scientist, heading towards the elevator. He didn’t say goodbye. In the situation they’d found themselves in, a farewell felt like a curse.

Grillby managed to make it through Waterfall mostly unscathed, folding his umbrella as he walked into Snowdin. The place felt like a ghost town, every window dark and every home abandoned. He tried not to think about it as he approached the skeleton brothers’ house. The door was standing open, filling Grillby with dread. He choked down another wave of panic as he stepped inside the dark living room. “Sans?” Grillby called out, voice feeling muffled by the oppressive, eerie silence. “Sans, are you here? ...god, please be here.” He pulled out his phone again as he walked up the stairs, dialing Sans’s number and waiting.

A default ringtone went off in Sans’s room.

The bartender should’ve felt relieved, but if anything, the sound scared him more than the silence. If Sans was here, why didn’t he answer the phone? Respond to the texts? Grillby tried the door and found it locked, struggling with the knob despite knowing it was useless. “Sans! Are you there?! Please, answer me!”

But nobody came.

The panic Grillby had been holding back consumed him. The fire that made up his body grew as he stepped back, leaning against the railing before moving forward and kicking down the door.

The room was empty. Sans’s phone was ringing on the bed, abandoned.

For the second time that day, Grillby found himself sobbing, kneeling on the floor as he desperately tried to force himself to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t have lost Sans, too. He didn’t even say goodbye. He didn’t even get to tell him…

Dizzy with exhaustion, Grillby looked up at the phone again. On the bed next to it was a piece of paper, folded around something. Dragging himself to his feet, the bartender stumbled over, sinking to the ground again as he picked it up. A key fell into his lap. It was small and silver, and it looked old. The note it had been wrapped in had a drawing of the house, with an arrow pointing to something in the back. As Grillby’s gaze drifted down to the base of the drawing, he choked on another sob.

Hey Grillbz,

If you’re reading this, you probably did something stupid like go to my house by yourself with a homicidal psychopath on the loose. Don’t worry, I get it. You did this last time, too. Anyway, this go around, I’m not gonna be here when you show up.

That key you’ve got goes to a basement behind the house. Go in there. You’ll figure out for yourself where I’ve gone.

When you do, please don’t follow me.

I love you, Grillby. I’m sorry.

~Sans

Grillby read the note over and over, crying as the implications sank in. Whatever Sans was doing, it didn’t sound like he planned to come back. Well, if he thought that Grillby wasn’t going to go after him, he was dead wrong. But first… the bartender had to figure out where Sans was going.

It had taken a minute to get the door behind the house to open. The lock was old, and it stuck for a moment while Grillby jiggled the key to get it in. It finally swung open with an echoing creak, light from outside barely able to illuminate the inside of what looked to be a small home lab of some kind.

Grillby stepped inside, drawn to the large machine in the back. The damage to the odd machine and the char marks on the floor did nothing for Grillby’s anxiety, but the lack of dust around it at least assured him that it probably wasn’t the dangerous thing Sans had been alluding to. The fire monster stepped away from it, moving towards the desk and the piles of paper there. The first thing that caught his eye was a drawer slightly ajar, something inside reflecting the light that Grillby gave off. He opened it the rest of the way, immediately recognizing the badge inside as he picked it up. “This… This is the insignia of the royal scientist. Why would he have this?” Grillby mumbled out loud. Now that he was thinking about it, why would Sans have any of this? It didn’t make any sense. Sans was a sentry, and he had been the entire time Grillby knew him. The skeleton had never mentioned living in Hotland or having a scientific career. The bartender was starting to question how well he knew his best friend, setting the badge back in the drawer and turning to the papers.

The first page was written in some sort of font that Grillby couldn’t understand. Looking at it made his hurt, so he moved it to the side, skipping over it. The next page was thankfully readable. It described something called ‘DT’, and the effects it could have on a monster’s magic if infused properly. The records of the experiments had been partially burned, but most of what Grillby could read was too complicated for him to understand. He never thought Sans was dumb, but the complicated equations were far beyond anything Grillby had seen before. He hadn’t guessed Sans had that level of intelligence, or put that level of work into any one project.

The last few pages had the most burns out of all of them. Some sections were written in that headache-inducing language, with a lot of the notes Grillby could read seemingly added later. It looked like a comparison between the effectiveness of multiple attacks before and after the use of DT. The last few notes made Grillby burn lower, nearly going cold.

In conclusion, DT can be used to temporarily increase stamina and allow a monster to use their magic more effectively, summoning attacks and creating patterns like nothing seen before. However, drawing that level of magic from a monster’s soul can cause their soul to become unstable, tearing it apart. A monster could not withstand the effects of DT long-term without turning to dust.

I could handle it, just for a little while. If it came down to it, I could use the machine on myself and keep the kid from hurting anyone else.

Papyrus… Alphys… Grillby… 🕈︎✋︎☠︎☝︎👎︎✋︎☠︎☝︎💧︎… I’m so sorry.

“No,” Grillby whispered, his eyes widening in panic. “No, no no no no please tell me you didn’t- Sans-”

Sans was going to fight the human.

No matter the outcome, Sans was going to turn to dust.

Grillby ignored the sting of the rain as he sprinted through Waterfall. He didn’t have time to worry about his HP. Sans used that machine on himself. He’d managed to build it, surely he could reverse it if Grillby just reached him in time. His mind was reeling, trying to catch up with everything he learned. Sans had once been involved with the royal scientist. Was that how he knew Alphys? And what was with that strange handwriting? Why would Sans hide it from him? The rain didn’t bother Grillby this time, but he felt a sting in his soul as he realized just how little he knew about Sans. Everything he learned about him throughout their friendship… was it all a lie? Just a cover-up for whatever Sans had done in the past? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense anymore.

Grillby’s footsteps echoed in the corridors of New Home as he sprinted down the main path. Alphys had said that the human was in New Home somewhere, undoubtedly heading towards the castle. If Sans were to face them, it would be there. He only hoped he could reach him in time.

Sans fell backward as he felt the human’s blade slice through his ribcage. Looking down, he watched in distant shock as blood started to seep from the wound. He knew the whole battle had been pointless… Frisk would just load their save file each time they died, coming back over and over until they killed him… but it still felt so surreal. The fight was over. Sans lost.

“Heh… heh heh…” The skeleton laughed breathlessly to himself as he looked up. The human was expressionless, uncaring. How? How could they have so much apathy, after everyone they hurt?

It didn’t matter. Sans forced himself to his feet, coughing as blood dripped from his mouth. It would be fine. Frisk would reset, everyone would come back, and then they’d die again. The warm golds and oranges of the hall began to blur together as the bloodloss made Sans woozy and he stumbled, leaning against one of the pillars. If he closed his eyes…

He could almost pretend he was sitting at a familiar bar, the bartender smiling at him as he cracked jokes and drank from a ketchup bottle.

“Welp. I’m going to Grillby’s,” Sans said weakly, tears filling his eyes.

“Papyrus… do you want anything?”

Footsteps echoed in the final hallway as Grillby ran, desperation gripping his soul. He almost ran right past it. He skidded to a stop as his mind processed what he’d seen. His mind went empty and numb, and he turned around, walking a few paces back the way he’d come.

At the base of one of the pillars was a blue jacket, sitting in a pile of dust.

Grillby screamed.

No. No, it couldn’t end like this. The fire elemental fell to his knees and picked up Sans’s jacket, wailing as he held it to his chest. When he did- God, he was covered in dust. Sans’s dust. The thought made him drop the jacket and turn away, gagging and throwing up until there was nothing left.

Grillby wrapped his arms around himself, the humidity in the room increasing as he sobbed. He thought of Sans’s smile, his jokes and laughter, the way he always winked at the end of a bad pun. Was any of that even real? Did Sans enjoy being around Grillby, or was it all a façade? Grief and betrayal settled heavily over the bartender, threatening to drown him. He dry-heaved again, choking as he desperately fought for air.

I love you, Grillby.

Grillby... I’m so sorry.

The words washed over him, pushing those feelings away. It didn’t matter. Whoever Sans had been before, it didn’t change what the two of them had. Grillby wouldn’t let it.

Grillby picked up Sans’s jacket as he stood, shaking the dust off and putting it on. The heat in the room became sweltering as the fire monster was filled with rage. That human... that human had taken so much from him. His friends, his family... the skeleton he loved. They couldn’t get away with it. He wouldn’t let them.

The fire monster walked towards the end of the hall, eyes burning with murderous rage. That human was going to pay for what they-

The world stuttered.

Grillby hummed to himself as he wiped down his bar, getting ready to open for the day. Hm, that was strange. Lifting the cloth, he noticed that it had quickly gotten fairly dirty. There was dust all over Grillby’s hands, coming off on the towel. He shrugged to himself as he wiped them off and got another towel.

It was probably nothing.

Thanks for reading! This one accidentally turned out kind of long. It’s pretty stream-of-consciousness, but I’m too busy to edit it today and I’m too eager to post it to wait.

Reblog or leave me a comment telling me what you think! Asks are open if you would like to leave a prompt for me, and let me know if you want to be on my Undertale fic taglist!

#dustyfic #undertale #grillby #sans #undertale grillby #undertale sans #sansby #grillby x sans #ask answered

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