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wolferine · 3 years

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Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that.

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore.

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!”

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells.

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

***********************************************************************

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you.

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

***********************************************************************

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone.

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

She smiles for the first time since the accident.

“I am.”

***********************************************************************

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine #natasha x reader

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olivinesea · 3 years

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Wait on the Sun

a/n: hello! It’s been forever, I had to turn my brain off for a hot second but I’m back, ready to roll. Some implied/referenced abuse but it’s vague.

Tadpoles are turning into frogs; or Aaron & Sean spend a day at the river. ~4.4k

He was running. He’s not sure where he’s running to but his breathing tastes like blood and he can feel the menacing presence chasing him gaining ground. He can’t quite hear its approach but the fear of it grips his heart like a vice.

He knows he can’t stop running.

If he stops he will be caught and pulled into the vortex of fury he feels close on his heels. Sweat rolls into his eyes, blurring his vision and he misses his step, ankle rolling and knees giving out. He crashes hard onto his palms and knees, feeling the skin ripping away on impact. Whatever or whoever has been chasing him closes the remaining distance between them. He hears whistling as something large and heavy cuts through the air, aimed at his helpless form. He opens his mouth, sucking in air to scream in fear and frustration, caught once again.

A small hand patted his cheek insistently, his name whined in concern. His eyes flew open as the strangled scream died on his lips. He blinked rapidly, bringing Sean into focus, standing right beside Aaron’s bed, small eyebrows drawn together.

“Aaron?” he repeated, worried.

He closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose, noticing that the air still seemed to drag through overexerted lungs. “It’s okay, Sean,” his voice was raspy and faint. He felt lightheaded but ignored that to push himself upright, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. Sean pressed his small body against his side, leaning into him, seeking comfort for them both. Aaron wrapped one arm around his little brother’s bony shoulders and used the other hand to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes. He felt as drained as if he hadn’t slept at all. With dreams like that one a common occurrence, it was rare that he got any meaningful rest at night. It left him a little dazed, a little slow during the day. If anyone noticed they thought he was being sullen. He found he didn’t mind what they thought as long as they didn’t ask questions. His shirt stuck to his skin with sweat from the nightmare and the hot, humid air that hung thick from the moment summer began. Sean twisted to look up at him, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth.

“‘m hungry,” he said.

Aaron let out a soft laugh, more exhale than laughter. Sean was always hungry. This didn’t bother Aaron, in fact it was the opposite. He took pride in caring for his brother, watching how he grew bigger year to year, hitting all the appropriate milestones for a kid his age. Rather than feel resentment at the contrast in their childhoods, he felt a desperation for Sean’s to be perfect, for him to have everything he needed and more. He was relieved at Sean’s lack of hesitation to state his needs, to assert his presence in the world.

“Go put on some clothes and I’ll make you breakfast,” he said, giving Sean a gentle push between the shoulder blades, pointing him towards the doorway. Once Sean was out of sight, he carefully peeled off his shirt to exchange it for a clean one. He hesitated, it was far too hot for long sleeves, even for him with his perpetually chilled skin. The summer air was more than just hot, it was heavy and it pressed close against him. He glanced down at himself, taking a quick inventory. There wasn’t much to worry about, nothing he couldn’t explain away with a shrug and a vague comment about clumsiness. Besides, he didn’t plan on seeing anyone today anyway. He put on a loose t-shirt and some old jeans he’d cut off at the knees.

Sean was already waiting for him in the hallway, his pale blue dinosaur shirt on backwards and a grin on his face. “I want pancakes,” he said in his chirpy child’s voice. Aaron reached down a hand to ruffle his hair but glanced at their parents’ closed door.

“C’mon you,” he said quietly, steering him to the staircase. He strained his ears but didn’t hear any sounds of movement. If he was lucky it would be awhile before either of them made an appearance.

Once downstairs he pulled a bowl and cereal out of the cupboard and milk from the fridge. Climbing into a chair, Sean whined a little. He really wanted pancakes. But it was far too hot to be cooking anything plus Aaron didn’t want to risk the mess that came with the production of pancakes. He set a bowl of sugary cereal in front of Sean and tried to encourage him to eat it by pretending to steal a bite. When Sean just sat and pouted at him, he chewed on the corner of his lip, trying to think of what else he could offer that wouldn’t be loud or messy.

He returned to the fridge and found a package of raspberries. Sean kept his eyes on Aaron’s back as he busied himself with something on the counter, out of sight. Aaron turned around and approached the table, hands behind his back. Sean watched him, spoon in one hand, eyes narrowed. Aaron had the slightest smile on his face, just the corner of his mouth quirked up. Once he was within reach of Sean he swung his hands in front of him, wiggling his fingers in Sean’s face. His surprised giggle was the sweetest sound, breath catching as his eyes scrunched up. He grabbed one of Aaron’s hands with both of his own, pulling it close in order to bite off one of the raspberries, not being particularly careful about sparing Aaron’s fingers in the process.

“Hey!” he snatched his hand back from the ferocious five year old. “I need those.” He then slid the remaining raspberries on top of Sean’s cereal, popping the last one in his mouth. The fruit juice woke up his stomach, which growled around its emptiness. He glanced briefly at the bowl of cereal Sean was now happily crunching through, wistful for a moment, almost tasting the competing soft and crispy textures, the overly sweetened milk. He debated getting some for himself, maybe just a small bowl. He rubbed his fingers together as he thought, weighing the risks of indulging his craving, giving in and eating something that was expressly not for him.

Sean looked up at him smiling around the spoon in his mouth. “Can I have some more?”

Aaron laughed, “That’s probably enough sugar for you. It’s not even nine a.m., kid.”

Sean pursed his lips, prepared to argue his case, filled with promises of good behavior and doing exactly as he was told all day. Aaron had heard it all before. The kid could never overcome the sugar rush, no matter his sincerest intentions.

“I’ll make you a sandwich. Drink your milk.”

Aaron was in the middle of slathering bread with peanut butter when a loud crash came from upstairs. He looked up startled, then over to Sean who had been pretending to be a cat as he lapped at the milk in his bowl. He looked up at Aaron, milk on his chin, expression curious, unsure.

“Go put on your shoes,” Aaron said in a low voice. He anxiously wrapped up the sandwich as Sean disappeared into the washroom behind the kitchen. He put everything away, making it seem as if they were never there. Straining his ears, he thought he could hear the muffled sound of voices. He closed his eyes, willing himself to keep moving, he didn’t need to listen to know what sort of conversations were being had.

He found Sean fumbling to tie his shoelaces, still a little too uncoordinated to be successful. Aaron shoved his feet in his own sneakers, not bothering to untie them, heels folded under his feet. He handed Sean the sandwich and knelt down to quickly arrange the uncooperative laces.

“I can do it myself!” Sean protested but Aaron shook his head, still listening to assess whether anyone was coming down the stairs. He’d fallen asleep to the bitter sound of his mother crying and he didn’t want Sean to see whatever might emerge from their bedroom first thing in the morning.

“Let’s go,” he stood up and pushed Sean gently towards the back door in the same motion. He closed the door softly behind them, eyes lingering on the little bit of the interior he could see through the window. Turning around, he saw that Sean had wandered off into the open space beyond the house. He was looking closely at the ground as he walked, searching for treasures only perceptible to young children. Aaron jogged to catch up with him, shoes slapping against his heels. He wiped a hand across his forehead where sweat beaded already. He was worried Sean would ask questions, would wonder at the connection between the sounds from upstairs and their swift exit. But when he looked up, his childlike features round and open, there was no trace of worry. His cheeks were flushed in the heat and his shirt was sticking to him. He shifted his shoulders, trying to adjust the fabric so it didn’t cling and looked longingly back at the house.

“It’s too hot out here,” he was trying not to whine but the heat was truly unbearable. It hadn’t been much better inside, the air still and oppressive, but at least there hadn’t been the sun glaring directly down on them.

“I know, buddy,” Aaron was sympathetic. He also wished for somewhere cool and safe but he knew they wouldn’t find that inside that house. “Let’s go to the river.”

Sean brightened, immediately launching into a list of things he wanted to look for along the water. He started moving again, more purposefully, brushing his fingers along the tops of the tall grass that covered the field. Aaron walked beside him, half listening to his elaborate plans, half of his attention taken with calculating how long he could keep Sean out of the house. The summer came with far more problems than he liked. It would be a surprise to learn that someone so young had such an ambivalent view of the season most children anticipated with restless excitement—the chance to be free of rules and routine for a few endless weeks. To allow their thoughts and feet to wander in ways they didn’t have time for the rest of the year.

But to Aaron, all that unstructured time only increased the instability in the foundation of his existence. Nowhere to be meant nowhere to hide, no routine meant more opportunities to accidentally cross paths with his father. And now, since Sean had gotten old enough to be more independent, unafraid to be away from his mother’s side, Aaron felt it was his responsibility to make sure he stayed out of harm’s way. Keeping a kid out from underfoot required a lot of energy, a lot of ideas for activities to occupy him. He did his best to distract him from the tension of frayed nerves that threatened to snap at any moment as the heat constricted their movements. Each day was a test to see how far he could make it without attracting his father’s attention, how long he could successfully keep to the background. It usually meant taking Sean out of the house (it’s hard for a five year old to play quietly all day long) and as the days got deeper into the summer, the weather outside became more and more unbearable.

They reached the trees that marked the edge of the woods, the river only a little further beyond the border. The shade dropped the temperature by several degrees, the soft dirt absorbing rather than radiating heat. Like a pebble rolling downhill, Sean’s steps sped up as they got within sight of the water. Aaron followed closely behind, only just catching him by the back of his shirt as he tripped on a rock and started to pitch forward into the water. Instead of being scared Sean screeched with excited laughter, the joy of being at the river completely outweighing any earlier disgruntlement.

Aaron let go as he regained his balance and they both kicked off their shoes. The chill of the water was bright and sharp against his skin as he stepped into a shallow sandy patch. He felt the fine grit of the dirt between his toes and smiled, wiggling them slightly. He turned to Sean who was silent beside him, squatted down so low on his knees he was in danger of fully sitting down in the river. He was peering closely at the water that pooled between larger rocks along the shore. His eyes waited for the silt they’d dislodged to settle again and reveal every child’s favorite prey.

A few moments later there came a happy shriek, “I see one!” Aaron bent forward to get in line with Sean’s view and spotted the the little brown tadpole, its tail wiggling furiously. Then, like a lens coming into focus, they could suddenly see dozens, hundreds more of the oddly proportioned creatures, with round front halves that nearly overbalanced them. Their tails waved frantically to propel them, lurching from place to place. They congregated thickly along the edges of the rocks and in patches of underwater grass. Some of the larger ones even had tiny back feet poking out to the sides, not yet large enough to be helpful but showing the beginnings of a promise fulfilled.

The boys stepped carefully a little deeper into the river, positioning themselves in a way that corralled the tadpoles in front of them. From there, they bent close to the water, hands poised just above the surface. They froze like that long enough to convince the tadpoles the shadows they cast were nothing to fear, then scooped down swiftly, attempting to capture one of the wiggling creatures. The tadpoles were fast and burning with self-preservation instincts, their only aim to evade capture and achieve the next step in life—something more autonomous, more independence available with the addition of limbs and lungs. They were awaiting the chance to be predators rather than prey. Until they made it, they would use every trick they possessed of speed and deception and camouflage to survive their uncertain youth.

This didn’t dissuade the brothers’ enjoyment in any way, the chase was entirely the point of the activity. Sean’s hands were too small to have a good chance at catching one but Aaron managed to cup one, bringing it carefully to Sean’s eye level. They were hypnotized by the way it launched itself from side to side in its new enclosure, burrowing against the cracks where his fingers met, searching for a tunnel to freedom. No matter how hard it thrashed its tail, it couldn’t build up enough force to escape. After a minute Aaron gently lowered his hands to the water, releasing the tadpole, which dove down and away from them as fast as it could.

Aaron felt an odd sense of longing as he watched it go. Surely it was ridiculous for a human to feel jealous of a tadpole, and yet, their lives were so simple, so inevitable. He was snapped out of the thought before it went too far by a large spray of water against his side. Sean looked at him with a wicked grin and splashed him again. Aaron retaliated with a much larger wave of water. The two boys laughed and shouted, splashing each other, quickly making enough noise to scare the tadpoles into further hiding, seeking calmer locales to continue their single minded development into frogs.

To stop him from splashing more, Aaron pulled Sean in against his side, laughingly begging for mercy from the vicious water attack. Sean’s giggles died down into a sigh as he rubbed his face against his brother’s hip, inhaling the familiar scent of laundry and river water. He loved his brother so much when he was like this. When he was smiling and playful, not distracted or insisting Sean be quieter. Sean thought the world would be perfect if he could have this Aaron all the time.

“I wanna swim.”

Aaron sighed, “Not today buddy.” He wasn’t up for swimming and all the risks that it might entail. Sure they were alone right now, but anyone could appear at any moment. It was more than hot enough to drive people to the nearest water source and frankly, he was a little surprised to have the place to themselves. Swimming meant a level of vulnerability that he couldn’t deal with right then. He was too tired, barely able to sleep between the nightmares and the sounds that haunted the hallways of their home late at night.

“C’mon, let’s get out. You’re wet enough to have been swimming anyway. You look like a drowned rat.”

“Do not!” Sean swung his hand across the surface, splashing them both heavily with the displaced water. Aaron laughed and picked him up under the armpits, carrying his squirming body, all muddy feet and wet hair, back to the bank. He set him down and warned him not to wander too far before finding a flat rock to settle on himself. Sean hummed at him, back already turned and engrossed in a new curiosity. Aaron leaned back, eyes heavy as he watched his little brother use a stick to poke at the ground along the shallow edge of the water. He smiled a little, thankful that, though opinionated, Sean was usually good about following directions. He wandered slowly, occasionally bending close to the ground to get a better look at something.

Aaron’s thoughts drifted, floating as aimlessly as a dandelion seed, the kind people said to make wishes on. He’d never had any of his wishes come true so he’d stopped trying. Though maybe it had been his own fault, maybe he’d had the wrong kind of wishes in the first place. He’d never wanted normal things, tangible items like a new toy or a puppy. Things that could be granted instantly. The things he wished for took time—strength, security, love. Maybe it was just a matter of patience.

He wondered if Sean had learned about dandelion wishes yet and decided he’d show him and hope the kid had better luck than he’d had. He felt drowsy though he knew he needed to keep an eye out, Sean was fairly responsible but still so young, too young. His stomach growled and he wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his knees into his chest, trying to trick his insides with external pressure. Mindlessly he picked at a scab on his shin, the result of a bug bite he’d scratched at too much. He had a hard time leaving them alone, always worrying at it until it bled, always making it worse somehow. His eyes closed, the heat wrapping him like a down comforter, the exhaustion catching up to him now that he was relaxed in this moment of relative safety.

A heavy buzz in his ear startled him, his eyes flying open as he waved a hand to swat at the mosquito. He looked for Sean and didn’t see him immediately. He scrambled to his feet, cursing himself, horrible scenarios jumping easily into his mind.

“Sean!”

No response.

“Sean!” he yelled louder. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling a little too hard. He was inhaling to yell again, stepping off the rock to search, when Sean appeared, standing up from a crouch, much farther away than Aaron would like. The next time he called Sean’s name it was sharp and angry and the smile he’d had when he saw Aaron faded a little. He trotted back, clutching something to his chest. He stumbled once on the uneven ground but regained his balance without letting go of whatever riches he’d amassed.

“You shouldn’t go so far away,” Aaron scolded.

Sean shrugged and unrolled his shirt, glancing at Aaron to gauge his reaction. He revealed a dozen or so small, flat rocks and long streaks of mud. He was clearly proud of his findings and though Aaron grimaced at the dirt, he did his best to match Sean’s excitement. He would just rinse the shirt out before they went home. They sorted them into piles of larger and smaller rocks and found a place to stand where the water was widest in order to practice skipping them. Sean was still learning but had been getting better this summer, finally coordinated enough to get the tiny rocks to jump two or three times before sinking. Aaron, with his longer arms and a decade more of practice, could reach a much higher number, one even making it all the way across to the other bank. Sean sucked air through his teeth, impressed.

“I wish I could do that,” he pouted. He was determined to be just like his big brother.

Aaron laughed, “Don’t worry, it’ll happen buddy.”

Attempting to get Sean to smile again, Aaron, now out of rocks, pretended he was going to use him as a skipping stone. He’d lifted him under the shoulders and knees and was swinging him back and forth, pretending to gauge his throw when the first thick raindrop landed.

At first it was a relief from the unrelenting heat, turning their faces up to the cooling drops, eyes closed as the water rolled down their cheeks. But the rainstorm intensified quickly and they could hear thunder crack loudly in the distance. Aaron quickly pulled Sean out of the water and away from the river. Almost instantly, the world had turned a dark purple, clouds thick and menacing above them. Aaron, kneeled down, scrambling to get Sean’s shoes back on, while Sean stood wide-eyed, still gripping his last rock tightly in his fist. He was busy tying the second shoe when lightning hit again, this time close enough that it illuminated the sky for a moment, the thunder following quickly behind it. Sean grabbed Aaron’s shirt with his other hand, fabric bunched in his small fist. Aaron softly disentangled Sean’s fingers as he stood up and put his feet in his own shoes. He used a finger to pull the heel out from under his foot while continuing to hold Sean’s hand with the other hand. It was now raining so hard there was water running into his eyes.

He straightened just as the lightning cracked again, striking a tree on the opposite bank. He was blinded, no sense of anything beyond the thunder immediately sounding and the air that smelled like burnt wood and ozone. Aaron stared at the tree, drawn in by the powerful electricity, tempted by the burn mark. He was fascinated by the way the change was so instantaneous. No waiting, no build up, no years of patience in order to become something else. Just here and then gone in the space of a heartbeat. He was completely frozen by the thought, an unexpected shortcut through the dull regularity of time. Distantly he felt Sean’s hands tugging at his shirt, heard his small whimper. Guilt flooded his system when he looked down at his face, blond hair plastered down, water soaked through his clothes. Sean needed him here now.

“Hop on,” he turned and bent his knees so Sean could climb on his back, wrapping his arms tightly around Aaron’s neck. The pressure was a little too strong, narrowing his windpipe but he didn’t say anything. He shifted him slightly, making sure he had a good grip on his legs before running back toward the house, away from the river in the woods and the tree with the enticing burn. The sky lit up a few more times and they heard more thunder as they raced back to the house. Aaron’s lungs were burning by the time they got there, both completely soaked through. He ran up the back steps and opened the door, too high on adrenaline to consider what he might be rushing them into.

Their mother was standing in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. She turned her tired eyes to them as they crashed into the house. As Aaron helped Sean slide down to the floor, she eyed the puddle they dripped around them.

“Don’t wake your father up,” she sounded dull, voice monotone. She wore a turtleneck, sleeves pulled down to cover her thin wrists despite the stifling heat. Aaron closed his mouth, face now expressionless, the wildness of the lightning draining away, leaving a hollow obedience. He nodded, compliant. Sean went to take a step off the mat and Aaron pulled him back against his legs with a palm against his small chest.

Sean made a sound of protest. He was home, he was safe; he also had the energy of the storm running through his skin and all he wanted was to run to his mom and press himself against her warmth. Aaron rubbed his thumb in a small soothing circle against his collarbone, feeling how Sean’s heartbeat danced against his ribs. He met his mother’s eyes and they exchanged a silent understanding.

Sean wriggled harder against the restraining hand. He felt like he might cry, whether from fear or frustration or relief he didn’t know. He just knew that this scene they found themselves in felt off, the contrast of the silence of the house with the chaos outside amplifying his discomfort. He twisted, ready to lash out at his brother. This was all wrong.

“Come on,” Aaron said quietly, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

He picked Sean up, which was not exactly what he had wanted, but the closeness brought some comfort. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and rested his head on his shoulder, his breaths evening out, warm against Aaron’s wet skin. He couldn’t understand the look he’d seen in his mother’s eyes. Like Aaron, sometimes she confused him, happy one moment and solemn the next. He was never sure what he’d done to make her draw away from him. He sniffled into Aaron’s shirt collar.

Aaron rubbed his back as he carried him up the stairs. “It’s gonna be okay, buddy.” He tried not to grit his teeth as he said it, wanting so badly for it to be true.

Sean nodded against his chest, still willing to believe his big brother would take care of everything.

#Criminal Minds #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #sean hotchner #young hotch #criminal minds fanfiction

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years

Text

Another One Bites the (Star)Dust pt2

Hey guys! Welcome to the next part of the newest installment of the Space and Everything In It series! Buckle up; its a fun one!

If you need a refresher, here’s the [previous chapter!]

Summary: Late at night, Virgil has a run in with the ship’s unfavored guest and Remus is rather insistent to turn it into a game of life and death.

Words: 8016

TW: Blood, Non-con drugging, Mentions of murder, forced attempted suicide

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

“Certainty” wasn’t something that Virgil had in excess of all the way out in Space. There were always so many things he didn’t know, didn’t understand, didn't think to think of. He was constantly having to rework his understanding of planets and governmental structures and alien niceties because he just didn’t know what he was doing. Roman, Patton, and Logan sometimes forgot that he didn’t grow up learning about interplanetary wars and peace treaties and trading policies and it always came as a shock to them when he had to ask what the hell they were talking about. Virgil lived and breathed by trial and error and tried his very hardest not to do the error part.

So certainty was hard to come by these days.

However, he was certain that if Remus didn’t let him go in the next five minsannu Virgil’s lungs were going to implode and his neck was going to snap and he was going to be a very unhappy ghost.

The dust was not grey, Virgil thought, even as he saw the flutters of it flash on the back of his eyelids, imprinted like scars on his brain that just wouldn’t heal over. The dust was not grey and it wasn’t real because there was no dust on Roman’s ship and-- oh god he was going to die and they weren’t going to find his body.

Remus’s tail jerked and Virgil felt where the muscle tightened and the half regrown bone plates rotated in return, like knives all on their own. Virgil was pretty sure that his hands were bloody messes from trying to get between the mass and his throat, trying to loosen it a bit, trying to get air to his lungs and his feet back to the ground and his body somewhere that wasn’t there.

His head felt like it was full of fuzz, full of buzzing and screeching and alarms. Even in the darkness he could make out Remus’s face watching him with deep dark eyes that were twisted paradies of Roman’s, because Virgil had seen Roman’s so often, so much and associated them with the driven determination that bordered on self sacrifice and these weren’t those eyes.

Despite them being the same murky brown, Remus’s eyes different; there was something in them that Virgil’s panicking brain was screaming about, something that made his grin sinister where Roman’s was always charming, something that told Virgil Remus would enjoy watching the light leave his eyes. Something that told Virgil his own dull reflection in those eyes would be the last thing he saw before he passed on.

And Virgil did not come all this way to die because of Remus-- fucking-- Prince.

Really! At this point it would be a fucking insult to die becuase of an Erefren in the middle of space because he was too stupid to just go back to sleep and pretend like he didn’t need to see a space therapist for the traumatic-borderline-stupid nightmares he kept having.

He’d survived the accusation of murdering his best-friend-maybe-more, survived the humiliation of being stripped of everything that he owned by aliens, survived the Welsor Fighting Rings six fucking times, survived the mercanaries, the bounty hunters, the government agents-- everything that had come after him and his family in the past two years. He survived the Pol’turs and he survived getting Janus back.

He survived that, and no one was ever going to know about it because in the end Remus was going to send his lifeless corpse out the airlock because it was that easy to get rid of the evidence when you lived in Space. No wonder the space police went around trying to catch them with illegal merchandise. It wasn’t like they could prove or solve murder--

He gasped for air that couldn’t fit in his fiery lungs, and his eyes felt a bit like they were going to pop right out of his head with the pounding pressure building up from a heartbeat that he couldn’t keep going. His vision blurred, bubbled and popped until all he could see were blobs in the darkness. Unrecognizable blobs. His legs kicked, jerked, swung...fell... and... his... hands…drop...pe...d….

Virgil gasped for air like a drowning man-- or a suffocated one. His lungs burned hotter than any star he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing Logan ramble about. His head swam in the agony, in the stimuli that screamed from so many places that he couldn’t even see what was in front of him. He was faintly aware of his shuddering chest, of his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and the raspy feeling of oxygen tearing through his esophagus like a pair of dull scissors through felt, handled by a second grader who’s fingers weren’t big enough to grip them properly.

His limbs were moving-- or rather being moved, but the moment the thought came to him was the moment he was also pressing his cheek against the cold polyfurnish flooring to alleviate at least one of the alerts in his brain. He thought he was crying, too. Crying over air that he didn’t think had ever been so sweet.

“Deathworlder, huh?” A voice said from over him, and Virgil tried to kick at it, only to find his legs weren’t moving quite right when the action jerked at his wrists and nearly dislodged his arms from their sockets and that was not good. “I used to think you guys were cool as fuck. Then I met one.”

Virgil coughed and curled in on himself, but his arms were trapped behind his back, and his shoulders cried weakly at the movement while his bloody fingers twitched. He shoved his face into the floor again, in a move that he thought probably looked really pitiful-- like if he couldn’t see the blob towering over him with a too-sharp-too-many-teeth grin, then Remus would just stop being there altogether.

Instead Remus’s foot came out and nudged his face. And then he kicked at Virgil’s knees and forced his body to twist until he was mostly facing upwards with his soft insides ready for plucking straight out of his stomach. His chest shuddered again, and his wrists yanked against whatever it was that Remus had bound him up with-- Virgil didn’t recognize the feeling of the material, but he was only used to being bound by polyfurnish chains that could absorb heat from an imploding star itself and metal handcuffs rom when the police wanted to pick him up for questioning for the second time in a week for something like jaywalking and ended up asking what he did to Janus Ekans anyway.

Whatever this was, it felt more like… like… fabric. Roman’s sash, or a T-shirt, but strong enough that there was no give, or knotted enough that Virgil’s stupid monkey brain couldn’t figure out how to undo it before Remus decided how to undo him.

Remus for his part just watched him for a minsannu, quisannu, phisannu-- Long enough that Virgil’s breath didn’t get any stronger and he couldn’t scream for help because of it. Remus crouched at his knees, draping his arms over his kneecaps, watched Virgil’s chest shake with a fascination while his fucking tail wagged in the background. Virgil caught sight of a dark liquid on one of the bone plates when it crossed into the line of red light and his entire body wracked with attempts to put distance between himself and Remus.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Remus said.

“Pl...eas…” Virgil gasped. “Fu..ck…Remus…”

Remus smiled wider, his lips cracking apart his face to show off all three rows of teeth that encircled his mouth and throat, sharpened like daggers. There was a chasm where his face should have been and Virgil tried to shove with his feet again, but they just yanked on his hands and forced his shoulders farther back like some type of back-fucking-bend.

“Roman loved hearing tales about creatures like you,” Remus said casually, like his voice alone wasn’t causing complete terror to crawl up Virgil’s throat and yank out his tongue. “They always made you guys sound like juggernauts. Unkillable beasts. Gods. When Roman was ten revolutions old he said he was going to exterminate all the Deathworlders so that no one else would be scared anymore.”

Remus looked down at Virgil and his eyes were empty abysses larger than black holes and colder than them too.

“Doesn’t look like he did too well on that front,” Remus said. “Guess I oughta help him with that.”

Remus’s hand reached out suddenly-- but Virgil’s brain saw it in slow motion, like Remus was reaching through a bowl of Shishdouble to wrap his claws around Virgil’s throat again. Virgil babbled out something, begging, pleading, and his bruised and sore body writhed against his bonds and the floor in desperate, hopeless movements.

((Virgil never wondered what worms felt like when they were plucked out of the ground and suspended in the air. He wasn’t pleased to know.))

Remus’s fingers were cold-- cold like ice that Janus had once shoved down his back in the middle of the night while they were sneaking food from the kitchen, cold like the metal chair he’d been forced to sit in while police officers and detectives asked him the same questions over and over and over again, cold like the endless expanse of space that surrounded their very tiny ship in the perfect graveyard for souls no one would remember to miss.

Virgil could feel each of Remus’s fingers pressing over his heaving throat. His claws were close to breaking Virgil’s tissue paper skin and his thumb sat right on Virgil’s pulse feeling for the way his hummingbird heart struggled to keep Virgil functioning. Just a squeeze and Virgil would be gone, just a curl of fingers and his blood would be all over the floor, just a twitch and Virgil would never have to think about the difference between grey and blue or what the last thing he said to Janus was.

“But you know,” Remus said. “I’m a pretty generous guy! I’ll give you one chance to convince me not to!”

“Fu..ck…” Virgil managed. “You.”

Remus brought up his other hand, and Virgil reactively squeezed his eyes closed. His heart stuttered, stuttered, stopped in his frantic chest, holding and waiting for the pain from whatever Remus was going to do to him for that; his claws were sharp enough to drag down Virgil’s cheeks, to cut out his tongue, to carve out his eyes--

But in the end all he did was use a finger to lift one of Virgil strands of hair off his sweat drenched forehead.

“That’s not very convincing at all.”

Virgil wanted to hiss at him, something threatening and violent like the Deathworlders of all the tales Remus was thinking of. But his mouth was dry, and all he could see was the last row of teeth in Remus’s mouth. He had never wished so badly that he was bad at math: because surely if he wasn’t able to count every inch between Remus’s pointed teeth and his own throat, then it wouldn’t be happening, right?

“Hmmm,” Remus said, possibly delightedly when Virgil’s voice failed him and his lungs begged for a mercy that Virgil couldn’t provide, because breathing means movement and the dumb rabbit part of his brain kept insisting that if he didn’t move, Remus wouldn’t see him. “Maybe I’ll just leave you here, Cikeriy-tied. Can you squeal, little Cikeriy? Squeal for me?”

Virgil didn’t make a sound, and honestly he wasn’t sure if that was the best move or not: angring Remus when he was already so close to death by not playing along with his sick-as-fuck game verses keeping what little diginity he had managed to retain after the Welsor Fighting Rings. Virgil’s throat tasted like blood coated dust and the bonds around his wrists and ankles dug into his skin the same way the chains at the Rings would, before Logan had come and freed him.

Instead he squeezed his eyes closed, counted to a frantic, unprovable five, and then he lunged straight up with all of his might. Remus didn’t have time to drop him, or move back and Virgil gladly took the blossoming pain in his forehead as payment for at least wiping that smug grin off the alien’s face as he hit the floor again.

Remus cursed in Erefreian, sounding a lot like Virgil’s Spanish Teacher when she saw the results after her quizzes and realized that bar Perfect Janus Ekans, no one was going to be passing her class that year. Remus pulled away and the red dulled light from the hall painted him in an astonishingly terrifying light. Virgil snarled at him the best he could when his heart was pounding in his ears and all he wanted was to scream for help but the words choked in his throat.

((Because if he screams, he thinks someone might come. And that would be a sight to see, wouldn’t it? Patton or Logan or Roman throwing open the door just in time to see Remus slice his throat open and spray his blood all over the Computer console? Virgil could forgive himself for a lot of things, but causing his family to think “if they had only been a little faster” was where he drew every single line every single time.))

Remus’s claws came back from his forehead, shamefully lacking any blood, though there might have been some type of bruising. Not that it would matter much considering the thickness of Erefreian skin; Remus wouldn’t even feel it in a few quisannu and no one else would ever know. He laughed, short, quick, and breathy and Virgil almost thought that he might be surprised.

“Oh,” Remus said and Virgil didn’t know what that meant, and didn’t think he wanted to find out.

He twisted his fingers and grabbed a hold of the knot tying his feet to his arms with the little give that there was. His hamstrings whined at the pull but Virgil only needed a minasunnu to create the 3D model in his head so that he knew where to wriggle and where to pull and where to curl-- like the worst kind of interactive puzzle and if he failed, he was going to die.

No pressure.

Virgil yanked his arms free just as Remus lunged for him again. He rolled and the alien hit the floor heavily where he’d been, with his tail already swinging at where Virgil was going, which was hilarious on some level because not even Virgil knew where he was going, but Remus seemed to predict it anyway. The bone plates on the edge of his tail were sharpened and they carved violent arcs into the wall in front of Virgil forcing him deeper into the room and farther from any sort of help.

He blocked the way to the only exit and Virgil scrambled backwards until he felt the floor vent that circled about two feet from the escape pods under his shoes. His chest heaved, and his vision danced between being hyper focused on every detail about Remus and being blurred so badly Virgil couldn’t have seen his own hand in front of his face. Distantly his fingers were aching with the cuts from the bone plates already, his blood made it hard to concentrate on the here-and-now and not the there-and-then.

((The Dust is not real. The blood is his own. There were no screaming crowds, no beaming sun, no grit under his nails--))

The floor was clear, he was empty handed, and while Virgil’s handprint, however bloody, could probably open the doors to an escape pod behind him, he didn’t think he’d be able to close them before Remus could follow after. Virgil’s head rang from the earlier impact, turning his carefully cultivated plans to fragments in his head with nothing to do. He was cornered in the worst part of the ship, with the worst person to be cornered with.

Remus was grinning again, crouching on the floor like a lion about to pounce, but wanted to have his fun first.

“What’s your plan here?” Remus asked. “Gonna call for help, little Cikeriy? Go on! I’d love to see the look on your face when you realize no one is going to come for you.”

“What… did… you do?” Virgil said between gasps. The chill of the ship cut through his thin sleep shirt, and made his skin feel too small, too little, not enough. Roman had been okay at dinner earlier, he knew-- a little more tired than normal, a little more snappish but he’d been that way since he had taken to keeping Remus away from anything important around the ship all day every day, because he didn’t trust Remus around any of the rest of them. Patton had made ten puns, which was one less than usual but Virgil had thought it was just because Logan had been excitedly telling them about--something fuck, a star? A research paper? Janus had kissed him like a nebula exploding and wished him a good night.

They’d been fine. Virgil had made sure of it. There was nothing that Remus could have--

And yet Remus’s grin etched wider, crueler, violenter. “Do you know the main difference between me and your lovely little Prince of the Stars? Other than the fact that I’m just the sexier twin, of course. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t know. Roman doesn’t like to talk about the family disappointment.”

Virgil took a step back and Remus took one forward, like a game of tag. His tail swayed behind him looking deceivingly lackadaisical for a murder weapon.

“You see little Crikeriy--” Remus said with his eyes glinting at the nickname. “Erefrens like to fight, and your little Princey over there is the perfect little soldier! A killing machine when he isn’t so concerned about messing up his hair! Those toxins of his? Wowza! They’ve always packed a punch. Even when we were kids!”

Virgil didn’t like how he said punch. He didn’t like the way that Remus talked about Roman. He didn’t like the implication that Roman used those toxins on Remus before. He didn’t like the idea of anyone screaming the way that Orlen thief had back when he’d first seen Roman use it effectively.

He didn’t like the way Remus’s head tilted, like he was remembering the feeling of all his atoms igniting on fire and wanted to see if Virgil could feel that way, too.

“The pack was so proud the first time his toxins came in,” Remus said. “Much less proud when mine came in; after all what is causing immeasurable pain to your enemies compared to simply putting them to fucking sleep?”

Virgil jerked back another step and Remus took a generous one forward.

“It’s not glamorous enough,” Remus said, something slipping into his tone, dark and heavy and bloody. “That’s what they told me, my pack. There’s no honor in killing someone who’s asleep. No honor gained from resisting the pain when there’s no pain at all. It didn’t matter who I could knock out with just a drop of my toxins; I was always going to be nothing compared to Roman. He took my pack from me-- so I told myself I’d take his from him too. And I’d use my toxins to do it.”

“You…put them…?” Virgil dug his nails into his palms, his fingers sticking together in the excess of blood. “When... ?”

Remus laughed, “What, you think that anyone on this ship pays attention to what they’re eating? Roman is so wrapped up in his little fantasy that nothing can go wrong for him that he never notices when I put things in his drinks. Patton and Logan were child’s play. The only hard one was Janus-- ya never know with you Deathworlders what’s gonna work and what’s just gonna make you drowsy.”

“You drugged them,” Virgil said, and fought not to think about Janus on the Pol’tur ship struggling to keep his mind focused and so out of it that he nearly knifed Patton when the Reytin was trying to help him, about Janus’s disbelieving eyes when he saw Virgil there and thought it was more likely he was a figment than real, about Janus clinging to him afterwards when they were back on their own ship and Janus didn’t want to fall asleep lest Virgil disappear before he woke back up. “You-- You--!”

Remus looked immensely pleased with the fact, with his wording, with his anger, which made Virgil’s stomach roll all over again. Remus drugged his friends, his family, Janus. He drugged them and didn’t seem to look in any way sorry about it.

“Why not me?” Virgil choked out around the way his head was ringing, the way his blood was singing, the way that his fingers were curling and imagining the thump of a pulse under his thumbs, preferably Remus’s.

Remus flexed his fingers, his claws clinking together in a way that made the hair on the back of Virgil’s neck stand on end, even more than before. “Weren’t you listening? It’s not very fun talking to someone who’s dead asleep, now is it? Asleep people don’t scream the way awake people do.”

Wasn’t that ironic? Virgil’s heart thundered and he took solace in the idea that at least Remus had never been near him when he slept.

“I’m not going to scream,” Virgil said.

“That’s what they all think,” Remus said back.

“I’m not going to scream,” Virgil said, this time with more confidence than he thought he’d ever had before in his life. Stronger than when he’d told Janus that they were going to be friends regardless of what their parents thought, stronger than when he told the police that Janus was not dead, stronger than when he swore to Logan that he was happy here, with them. He wasn’t certain of a lot in space but he was certain of this.

“I’m not going to scream, and you’re not going to get away with whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing right now.”

He planted his feet on the ground and squared his trembling fists into something that resembled a fighting stance-- not that it was anything official, not that it was anything good, but it was the stance that he had picked up from the Fighting Rings and if he survived that, he was going to survive Remus Prince with it, too, regardless of what his lungs and throat and brain were telling him.

Remus didn’t say anything for a quisannu. In the ruby light and the surplus of shadows it was hard to make out exactly what expression he was holding in his eyes, but Virgil hated how eerily similar it looked to Roman when he was trying to outsmart Logan with wordplay.

“Boorrringgg,” the Erefren decided suddenly, drawing out the syllables until they grated around Virgil’s brain and didn’t sound like actual Common at all.

“What?”

“You’re boring,” Remus said, flicking his tail. “I’m bored.”

“It’s the worst when he’s bored,” Roman had said once upon a time so long ago when Virgil had first asked what the hell a Remus was and why they seemed to like sending waves of assassins and bounty hunters and pirates after them. “Things tend to get… bloody when he’s bored.”

Virgil whose fingers were pulsing from cuts, who’s throat was aching, who could taste copper in his mouth and see specs of scarlet in the dim hall light whether they were real or not, thought that maybe things were already a little bloody. And if that was what it was like before Remus was bored, Virgil really wasn’t going to like whatever was coming.

“I’m not here for your entertainment,” Virgil spat.

“Aren’t you?” Remus grinned again and Virgil flinched at the sight of it. His head screamed at him to get away, get out, get help. But the exit was blocked and Virgil didn’t want to know what Remus would do to anyone who came running to help him, if they came at all. “I can’t think of another reason to keep a little Deathworlder around, you know. You’re all like dangerous little pets no one else wants to get close to. I was thinking when I go off again, I’m gonna take Janus with me-- he’s pretty funny you know, especially when that Sblorp bit him and he was begging us to get it off him.”

((“It was my fault,” Janus had said in a medical bay on the floor, trusting Virgil’s shaking hands to touch when he had no logical reason to. “I didn’t even see the thing until it was two inches from tearing out my large intestine.”))

And Remus was saying that was funny? That he let that happen? That if Remus hadn’t taken pity and helped get it off of Janus Virgil would have never found him again because he’d be dead on some forgotten planet?

Virgil’s nails dug into his palms, just to keep his brain focused on the present and keep himself from doing something extremely stupid, like lauching himself across the room at the smug Erefren and removing each and every bone from his body as painfully as possible.

“No,” Virgil said.

“No?”

“No!” He said again, “I’m not letting you take Janus.”

Not Janus who still smiled like Virgil hung the stars in the sky, who kissed like he wanted the whole cosmos to know Virgil was his, who had always been the strongest person Virgil had ever known. He didn’t care who Remus thought he was, didn’t care if Janus had been coerced to be part of Remus’s crew before, didn’t care at all. That was Janus and Virgil would not let Remus do anything else to him.

He was certain of that.

“Oh? And what if he wants to go with me?” Remus asked, like there was dimension out there where Janus might say yes anyway, where Janus had lost all his sense of self preservation among the nebulas, where Virgil wasn’t ready to claw through the fabrics of space and time and life and death just to make sure Janus didn’t have to.

Virgil tasted blood in the back of his throat, felt the grit in his teeth, smelled the burning of flesh in the air.

“Why would he ever want to go with you? If this is the shit you pull on him? If you’re going to get him killed just because you’re not being entertained? His life is worth more than that and I won’t let you convince him otherwise.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed: dark and dangerous and Virgil’s chest ached with the need to breathe but he ignored it. Alarms rang in the back of Virgil’s mind, singing out warnings that Virgil himself couldn’t even make out because if he took any of his concentration from Remus for a minsannu, everything around him would implode.

“Oh? Well, what about this, little Cikeriy,” the alien said, speaking deliberately slowly so that Virgil couldn’t misunderstand him even if he wanted to. “Let’s play a game, just you and me. I’ll leave Janus all alone, I’ll leave Roman and Patton and Logan all alone, too! When we touch down on TS-625, I’ll take my lovely bag of tricks that you just found and I’ll disappear completely and none of them will have to see me again! Your perfect little pack here can sleep safely knowing that I’m not going to send anymore mercenaries or bounty hunters or government agents after all of you! Doesn’t that sound nice, Cikeriy? I’ll even swear to the great god Disney to never bother them again-- on one condition.”

Virgil’s heart thudded so loudly in his chest he almost couldn't see. Remus’s smile was sharper than a knife, sharper than any of his bone plates, sharper than anything that Virgil had even felt and it cut right through his flesh like it was made of melted butter.

Remus splayed out his hands and wiggled his claws in the darkness.

“You just turn right around, get into that escape pod, and eject yourself into space.”

His lungs screamed as he became violently aware of the presence of the silent escape pods bearing witness to all this behind him. The pods that weren’t furnished with any provisions, that didn’t have any of his stuff because it was all in a bag that was behind Remus, that Virgil suspected weren’t made for humans at all and wouldn’t be capable of regulating the right amount of oxygen for his body for an extended period of time. The pods that Virgil had practiced piloting on a million times but had always flown right back here within the phisannu, because this was where he belonged. This was home.

Remus wanted him to purposely leave that? He wanted to watch Virgil cast himself into the empty expanse because it would be entertaining somehow? Virgil’s knees felt weak, his stomach offered up hints of the dinner they had all eaten together phisannus ago.

He’d have no food. He’d have no water. He’d barely have oxygen if he went.

And if he didn’t starve out there, or dehydrate, or run out of oxygen, and if the SOS system worked, then he’d be found by someone out there. If they weren’t pirates or smugglers that would sell him without a second thought, they’d be with the Universal Space Police Force and humans were illegal on this side of the universe.

If he did this it would be a suicide trip.

“It should be an easy decision for you, right? You or the others,” Remus said. “You or Janus?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Virgil hissed, and it felt like he was choking again, like Remus’s tail was hoisting in him to the air by his neck, like there was something in his throat that was blocking all the oxygen from making it to his chest. His hands were shaking and there was no hiding that.

Remus stood at his full height, and he looked like he was having the time of his life all of a sudden. The red light made his smile look insane.

And for the first time, Virgil thought that maybe that wasn’t entirely wrong.

Virgil didn’t know what growing up as an Erefren was like-- Roman was staunchy with the details and Logan and Patton were insistent that it was only Roman’s story to tell, despite them knowing it entirely. Virgil had wondered quietly, why someone whose species was supposed to travel in packs--teams-- families-- why Roman was floating out in space as a swashbuckling starlit hero without anyone else of his kind. Virgil had wondered.

He thought maybe he understood now, if Remus was the type to play this kind of sick game with people close to Roman, that Roman had left those people behind on a planet that Remus probably wouldn’t go back to. He understood why Roman had nearly begged them not to uphold the Oath of Brothers that Remus had enacted to get himself saved. He understood now, if it had been someone else with their backs to the escape pods being asked to make a decision like this.

He understood Roman not wanting to talk about Remus when Remus was asking him to choose between the people he loved and himself like the answer was something he had to even think about in the first place.

“Come on, Virgie,” Remus said. “Entertain me a bit. You know not even I will risk going back on an oath to the Great God. Unless, of course, you really don't care about your friends all that much after all.”

“Make the oath first,” Virgil said.

“Open the pod first,” Remus countered, like he was waiting for it. His tail twitched, flicked and danced in the air like a creature all of its own. Remus tilted his head to the side, letting some of his wavy hair fall over his eyes, and once upon a time Virgil might have thought that made him look a bit like Roman.

Instead it made Virgil’s stomach clench and twist and crawl up his throat real slow like it’s own little horror movie. It was deceptive, it was cruel; he didn’t look like someone who would kill anyone and everyone for his own entertainment, who took joy in making Virgil bleed late at night when there was no one but them to see.

He didn’t look like that guy they saved on the Pol’tur ship who could barely keep his eyes open, but demanded that they also save what was left of his crew. Virgil didn’t know where that person went, or if he’d been real at all. But the terror in his chest and the bruises on his neck told him the Erefren in front of him was as authentic as it got.

Virgil took the last step back and his shoulder blades hit the outer door to escape pod Alfie-- Alpha. Virgil vaguely remembered that first time that he and Roman had done their driving practices out there in the middle of an empty quadrant, in the middle of nowhere and nothing. It had been just like Janus and him picking out some empty parking lot at two AM for Janus to go through teaching him how to drive because his own parents couldn’t have been bothered. Patton had affectionately named the little pod Alfie, and gone through the trouble of renaming the pod in the computer system with an alien-like flower emoji to make Virgil smile. Logan had rolled his eyes, but had yet to change it back.

The memory tasted like his own stomach acids now, burning its way up his throat, and making his whole body feel feverish. He thought that if he closed his eyes and took a break from staring at Remus, he’d see Patton and his bug eyes staring up at him with a question on his lips and “Oh kiddo how could you?”

Virgil reached up and crossed his body to slam his palm on the palm reader without giving Remus access to his spine, without trusting Remus enough not to slam his tail into Virgil’s lower back when he was already complying, without letting his eyes close because he wasn’t going to cry after all this.

He survived the fighting rings. He survived Earth. He survived to find Janus again and see that smile that Virgil breathed every breath for. He survived this much.

He’d survive Remus too and he wouldn’t let Remus think otherwise for a quisannu.

The scanner was warm under his palm. For a moment there, Virgil was afraid that it wouldn’t recognize his human shaped hand amidst all the blood. ((He remembered when Logan first dragged him to the room to get his hand put into the system, an induction to the crew, back before Roman trusted him and Patton was still skittish and Virgil’s grasp of Common was barely more than the basics of conversation and necessity. Logan had been blinking lights a million ways, shining like a star all on his own, and it had taken Virgil too long to realize the dancing of his lower arms was because he was excited and happy and thrilled and that Virgil had made him that way. So different from the yesterday morning when Logan’s voice had dripped with an emptiness and “Did we make you unhappy?” ))

The scanner beeped. The doors slid open. Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat like it was a chunk of a meteor and the edges were carving into his esophagus.

Remus didn’t take the step forward to push him into the pod with his aura like Virgil expected. His tail froze motionless in the air beside him, more like a cardboard cut out prop than the weapon that shredded the wall to his right. The alien raised his left hand slowly, in something that looked so normal, so familiar, so human, that Virgil had to swallow the hysteria before it gained a hold on his tongue.

“I, Remus Prince, Denounced of the Prince Pack, Leader of None and Follower of Less,” Remus said, and the air in the room rang with his voice. Virgil willed back the weakness in his knees that threatened to send him to the ground at the rumbling of his tone. “I invoke the Great God Disney, Beholder of Oaths and Judge of Heroes, to witness here and now this vow: I swear to abandon my pledge to destroy all that my brother, Roman Prince, holds dear and resolve not to take human Janus Ekans with me when I leave, should human Virgil Storm press the eject button on the escape pod while inside it.”

Remus turned his palm upwards and tilted his head ever so slightly with a smug expression, nearly hidden in the shadows. “Does that work for you, Cikeriy?”

((“Does that work for you, Virgil?” Roman had said, when Virgil was frantically trying to wash blood off his hands in the bathroom and not crawl out of his skin. Virgil hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than getting the alien fluids off of himself, getting the feeling of a pulse dying under his fingers to fade, getting his breath to stop hitching at every inhale. There were a million other things that Roman should have been doing at the moment: helping Patton from where he was nearly shish kabobed, checking on Logan who they had to forcibly put to sleep because he couldn’t stop screaming at the brightness of the world around them once his visor broke, getting the blood off himself, getting rid of the bodies in the hall… but Roman was here talking to Virgil about everything and nothing and reaching out to turn off the water when Virgil wouldn’t stop scrubbing at his hands. “Listen to me Virgil. You’re okay here. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen.”))

Virgil was shaking so much he wasn’t sure that he actually nodded at Remus’s non-rhetorical question. It felt barbed, it felt cold and vicious of him to ask, and Virgil thought that maybe that was the point of it. Remus’s teeth bared in a parody of something comforting.

It was the same smile that Mayor Ekans had been holding when he had Virgil forcibly ejected from the mansion the first time, the same smile that his teachers had when they gave him yet another detention, the same smile that the police officers gave him when they thought they had caught him in a lie about what had happened to Beloved Perfect Janus Ekans.

There were less than two halls between him and Janus’s bedroom, less two quisannu to get from here to that room where Janus was sleeping unaware of anything that was happening, less than eighteen days that he got to spend with Janus in the grand scheme of things.

It felt like a blink, like a mirage, like a dream that Virgil just woke up from and was feeling the blissfulness dissipate like he’d faced so many times before. The Hope had always been the worst thing about those first eight months: the hope that Janus would appear somewhere unconscious but alive, the hope that Janus would show up to clear his name, the hope that Janus would come back just to fix everything that had gone wrong with Virgil’s life when he was gone.

Virgil, ever the fool, had fallen into the trap that was Hope again and let himself get comfy with the idea that this time he couldn’t lose Janus again.

“Tick Tock,” Remus said.

“You know, Remus,” Virgil spit out, “I feel sorry for you.”

“That’s nice.”

“You clearly never learned what the fuck it was like to care about anyone other than yourself, and I as much as I would like to hate ever fiber of your being, the only thing I can feel is pity that you--”

“Really, these are gonna be your last words?” Remus cut in with an undertone of something far less entertained.

“There are a billion civilizations out there!” Virgil said over him. “And you couldn’t find one person in there that you could care about? You couldn’t let go of such a stupid hatred of your brother-- for a pack that didn’t deserve you-- for a life that you don’t even know if you would have liked! You had all of Space for yourself and you chained yourself up just to get a chance to get back at Roman? How the fuck are you so stupid? Do you know what I would have given to be you?”

Remus wasn’t smiling.

Virgil thought that he was. Grinning full of adrenaline and shaking with rage and wondering if he would ever taste Janus’s lips again because certainty in Space was a fickle thing.

“You had a spaceship. You had a crew. You could have gone anywhere and done anything with your life,” Virgil said. “And yet you chose to constantly come back to Roman. Dumbass.”

Remus made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a grumbling, a rumbling, a growling. Virgil flinched back into the pod, and he could already feel the artificial gravity loosening its hold. It took him another blink to realize that Remus was laughing at him, something darker and more dangerous than before.

He was insane and having fun before. Virgil thought that he might have just taken out the “having fun” and substituted in the “pissed off”.

“You know how long I’ve been thinking about this, Virgil?” Remus asked. “I went over a hundred different ways that I could have done this: I could have had you hang yourself, snapping your own neck. Could have given you the knife and told you to slit your own throat. Could have tossed you a Kochfas and told you to blow your brains out. I thought about making the others watch. And I wanted to see you do it so badly. Do you know what a pain it was to walk around these past disannu and see you with your guard completely down? To think of all the ways I would have killed you myself? I could have slit your throat and laughed as Patton screamed. But you know those rumors about Deathworlds say that you might have gotten up from that and I don’t ever want to see your stupid face again.”

Virgil’s chest heaved. He couldn’t tell if it was the thinner oxygen concentration in the pod, or just the rapid fire words in Remus’s mouth. The words that confirmed a suspicion that Virgil hadn’t realized he’d had this whole time. That this whole thing was too complex, too focused, too targeted.

“Oh? Nothing else to say?” Remus asked. “You were almost entertaining there for a moment.”

“This wasn’t about Roman, was it?” Virgil said. “This was about me. You hate me.”

Remus stuck out his tongue and pressed a claw to it-- some type of motion that Virgil only recognized from the number of times that Roman had done it to Logan’s back after he stated something incredibly obvious and Patton had batted his thigh over.

“Oh, is the little deathworlder getting the hint?” Remus asked. “What tipped you off? The drugging of all your friends or when I told you to eject yourself from the ship?”

“What…” Virgil shivered with his whole body. “Why…?”

“Don’t chicken out now, Virgie,” The alien said. “I’d simply hate to have to go through the trouble of stabbing out each of Patton’s hearts because you got cracked bone plates.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, a fake expression that made Virgil’s stomach twist in on itself. “Or maybe I’ll just start with Janus, and see how much pain a human can actually take.”

“Don’t,” Virgil’s voice comes out as its own growl, sounding damn near inhuman.

Virgil didn’t think about the Pol’turs, didn’t think about Janus on that table knowing that no one is coming for him, didn’t think about the scars on the side of his face that Janus pretended didn’t bother him, but Virgil had caught him pointedly not looking in the mirror so many times-- He didn’t think about it, but his brain screamed at him anyway.

“I don’t know what I did to you,” Virgil said. “But leave him out of this. All of them. Roman included. Look I… I’m sorr--”

The Erefren’s tail struck through the air and before Virgil knew what he was doing he slammed the button on the door lock and forced them shut. He stumbled deeper into the pod, nearly falling to the ground as the sound of Remus’s barbed tail spikes carved into the thick heavy metal separating them. The ship was so cold that Virgil could see his breath in the air, but all he felt was a feverish as he stared through the foggy window at where Remus was standing with an expression that was possibly more murderous than anything Virgil had ever seen before.

Janus’s mother had been vile and sadistic when she thought that Virgil had killed her perfect son, the police had been cold and merciless when they called him a suspect, the people Virgil hadn’t even known had become ruthless and brutal when they glared at him doing anything out in public. His own parents had looked at him with hatred when they realized that the rest of the world would shun them just because Virgil was their son, but even that had been nothing compared to the look in Remus’s dark eyes.

It was bloodlust. And it was directed at Virgil with no regard for anything else.

Remus sneered, almost loud enough for Virgil to hear through both the sets of doors and the static screaming in his ears. His mouth tasted like Dust, his skin prickled with a heat that wasn’t real, his fingers dripped with blood and ached in all the ways that his hands always did after he killed someone with them. He felt like if he took a single step he’d float right off into Space with or without the walls around him

Remus’s mouth moved, words or curses or whatever, but Virgil couldn’t hear them and cared even less.

“I don’t know what I did to you,” Virgil said with his hands shaking over the square red eject button. Last words for only him to know and no one else to ever find out. He thought of Janus asleep in his bed, safe and sound and not knowing anything that was going on. He thought of the feel of Janus’s lips on his, the featherlight touch and sweet honey-eyed look he reserved just for Virgil. He thought of those words he last said to him, “Later Loser, Sleep well” and thought it was ever so poetic that they mirrored those last things that Janus had said to him before he disappeared off the Earth three years ago.

Virgil hoped that Janus wouldn’t take them to heart too much-- not like Virgil had when he agonized over them and wouldn’t believe that Janus had run away without telling him and the rumors had first started their rounds. He hoped that Janus would forgive him for being stupid in the middle of the night. He hoped that Janus would wait for him to find a way back to them.

Out in Space, he wasn’t certain of much, but he was certain that he meant it when he gritted his teeth together, and said, “Remus, I hope you rot in Hell.”

Virgil slammed his bleeding fingers down on the eject button, and at the same moment blinding white light filled the Transport Room from the hall.

He got just enough time to recognize Roman’s unmistakable form stumbling into the room behind Remus, and then the entire pod lurched backwards.

[Part Three]

#Aliens #Space and Everything In It #virgil sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #anxceit #Remus what the fuck are you doing #Virgil needs a hug. desperately #tw: blood #tw mentions of murder #tw: mentions of forced suicide #Virgil would really do anything for Janus #and thats the core of this tragedy #humans are space orcs #the fluff has died and I'm sorry

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sneezy-cheeseloaf · 3 years

Text

recounting the entire avengers: endgame movie, which i only saw once when it came out, from memory

because i just took the SAT and i want to do anything except think about that so get ready for a fun ride full of holes and my reenactments of scenes and quotes that i remember from however many years it’s been now since endgame came out. buckle the fuckle up

movie opens, clint’s whole ass family fucking dies. cue killing spree fueled by grief and anger. HashTag Relatable

tony is floating through space with nebula and teaching her how to play paper football

holy shit is this how tony dies

“pep” ouc h

oh hey he’s home, dope

The Gang (tm) learns where thanos’s farm is somehow i can’t really remember

“perhaps i judged you too harshly”

“???? thor????” “what? i went for the head”

“five” five what?? days?? weeks??? months???? oh boy i can’t wait to find ou- “years later” HUH???????

steve looks the exact same, so i guess he kept up that workout schedule even through the snap. i mean good for him honestly

and is also running a talk therapy group like sam did

a single smidgen of gay representation but it’s a good start ig

i don’t really remember what everyone else was doing, i just know that tony and pep have morgan now but idk if that gets revealed now or later

the only reason we had a movie is because of a rat. everyone say thank you to Rat for releasing scott lang, please. round of applause

scott’s daughter is all grown up and catch me sobbing over the fact that he wasn’t there to see it

somewhere in here nat is crying and eating a sandwich and honestly girl same

“hey!!! it’s me!!!! scott lang!!! ant man???? also what the hell happened???? lemme IN”

cue scott lang having a single brain cell and bringing up time travel. i think it was him that proposed the idea. maybe not. but imma give him credit

oh yeah bruce and hulk are besties now and bruce is just permanently Like That

and cue everyone being shook at the idea of time travel

time to go see Science Man at his house on the lake

“i wish you had come for anything else.” ouch

gang leaves dejectedly

peter. that’s it. and suddenly tony is all hands on deck

cue science mumbo jumbo in the middle of the night while he eats something out of a bag that i can’t remember

“shit!!” “sHiT!!!” “NO”

“i love you 3000″

Science Man reveals that he has, indeed cracked the code to literal time travel

cue nat, the only person with an umbrella, going to find clint who is busy with murder, as he does

“don’t do that. don’t give me home” stfu budapest man and get in the car.

thor has. enlargened. and is now playing fortnight with korg as a means to cope with what happened plus losing loki, as i think we all would

The Gang is back together and working (surprisingly) coordinately and throwing ideas around and it’s actually very cute. and it makes my heart very happy. and i want to cry every time i think about it because we all know what comes next

scott’s taco gets blown away. bruce gives him another. all is well in the world

and in this exhibit we see the only brain cell in the whole group, which is being used by rhodey at all times

“why don’t we just,,,, (choking motion)” “to a BABY???”

during the time tests someone gets reverted to a baby but i don’t remember who and it’s highkey disturbing

“i consider this an absolute win!!”

cue slo mo walk with the cool white time suits that everyone looks so good in

“see you in a minute” that smile. she looks so happy. sobbing

i think it’s in here that all the color go through steve’s eyes, so let’s just take a minute to acknowledge how pretty he is

“just for the record, that suit did nothing for your ass.” “i don’t remember asking you to look”

“that’s america’s ass.” yes it is scott you’re absolutely right

“i cOuLd dO tHiS aLL dAy” “yeah i knoOoOW”

time for tony to give tony a heart attack and then just stare in what i can only assume is amusement. i’m pretty sure that comes after america’s ass but maybe not

somewhere in here steve is just staring at peggy through blinds and it’s sad when you see it but when you think about it afterwards, it’s so funny for no reason

time to get whacked by a very angry hulk who was not allowed to use the elevator

“NO STAIRS”

tony goes flying. so does the tesseract. loki, in handcuffs, is like “oh bet this is mine now” and. Leaves.

i’m pretty sure it’s bruce who goes and gets schooled by The Ancient One on the multiverse, and i say it’s bruce because i think he’s the only one out of The Gang who could ever actually wrap his head around it

i don’t remember exactly how they get the tesseract but they do

thor and rocket are in asgard and thor has a panic attack, as I think we all would if we had to talk to our dead mother and pretend like we don't know what's going to happen

and remember kids, slapping someone is not the way to handle a panic attack. anyways

a mother always knows

"i'm still worthy!!!!" you always were, thor. you never stopped being worthy

and we have our hammer back

cue sobbing on vormir

“clint. it’s ok. it’s ok.” that smile.

nat’s fucking dead and i’m fucking dead inside let’s keep this party goin

other stones are recovered and i don’t really remember how but hey we got all six

“where’s nat?” cue more sobbing from me and from clint as you can see each and every team member’s heart drop to the fucking floor. especially steve

yeah maybe we’re doing this for half the universe and all the people we lost, but mostly for nat now

tony’s makeshift infinity gauntlet has entered the chat

Green Man is the only one who can physically take the power of the stones, so the fate of literally everything they have ever done up to this point is on him

snap rest in peace bruce’s arm

cue every single person in the theater holding their breath

“guys. it worked.”

cue explosion as their facility gets bombed and i am terrified that it has killed the entire gang

but it obviously has not and i am once again a Class A Idiot

i can't remember if it’s steve or tony who wakes up first but one shakes the other awake and is like “get the fuck up bitch idk what just happened but we got a problem”

everyone is mostly fine. but they’re all alive and that’s what matters

and now we have the setting for the entire rest of the movie basically

oh hey thanos. that’s uh. that’s a big army you got there

i don’t really remember everything that happened with The Past thanos, gamora, and nebula but i remember that gamora once again sees what a twat her adoptive father is and is like “oh hell na”

cue the gang fighting for their lives against Past thanos. literally

oh shit thor’s about to be killed????

OH MY GOD HE HAS THE HAMMER

cue the theater screaming as they should

hell yeah. bonk that giant space grape with the god of thunder’s hammer. you go steve. and look like a badass doing it as you should

shit’s still fucked and they eventually get their asses handed to them one by one

somewhere in here the shield breaks just like we saw in age of ultron. and like damn bro i liked that thing

steve stands up by himself because bitch. you cant kill him unless he says so. he dies on his own terms. he didn’t live for over a fucking century to die like this

our mans is standing up against a whole ass army knowing full well that he can’t win but damn if he aint ready to try

“ok listen strange. you have to open the portal to his left. his LEFT. you hear me???”

“steve. STEVE. on your left.”

cue the most goosebump-inducing scene that i have ever seen and probably will ever see. i would do anything to see that scene for the first time again. that feeling was like nothing i’ve ever experienced

the amazing symphonics are NOT helping my already-about-to-explode-from-excitement heart

now the gang’s ALL here. and we all cry because all of our peeps are back from the dead and we all missed them and highkey grieved for them after infinity war

i can’t remember if steve actually sees bucky yet but i think he does and i wanted to cry on the spot because not only did i miss bucky but man did i just want them to see each other again

cue sick pan of the whole ass marvel roster like smash ultimate, including howard duck somewhere in there

PETER OUR BOY SWINGIN ON IN

“AVENGERS. assemble.” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

but we all know damn well that not a single person could hear him whisper that shit. like steve bro speak up a little

and the battle for the ages commences

we get to see all our favorite boys are girls fuck shit up and it’s absolutely incredible. wow it really feels like someone’s missing who could that be.

this is now a very elaborate game of keepaway

“catch” “Catch” “CATCH “CATCH”

“hey queens” he remembered. catch me cryin

“hey peter. got somethin for me?” god i love her. flew through a whole ass spaceship. no stoppin her

t'challa remembers clint's name. he did care

oh yeah scott is fucking humongous again, but third time’s the charm ig. maybe he won't pass the fuck out this time

somewhere in here, strange starts holding like. an entire ocean back and i dont really remember where it came from

we get a whole segment of marvel women kicking ass and taking names and i think i just need to take a minute. WE collectively need to take a minute

carol flies straight through a spaceship and everyone is like ???? hello????? where have you been?????????

carol gets literally headbutted by thanos and doesnt move a fucking inch. and that look of murder in her eyes. she could tell me to walk into a pit of lava and i would not question it. the power

“launch the missiles!!!” “but sir, our army-” “DO IT”

damn thanos our expectations for you were low but holy fuck

somewhere in here i think petter quill sees Past gamora and is like gamora???? and she like kicks him in the balls or somethin and is like “this is the ones i picked?????”

the fight continues and honestly a lot of it’s a blur but damn was it not the coolest thing i’ve ever seen.

cue strange knowing exactly how this was gonna go down, and holding up a single finger

i dont think ive ever seen that look on tony's face before

oh shit thanos has the gauntlet and all the stones. fuck.

wait holdup that gauntlet looks a little funky

WAIT HOLDUP

“i am inevitable”

“and i. am iron man.”

the theater, once again holds its breath

all is lowkey calm and everyone is shook

thanos’s entire army slowly fades away. including one of those big worm things that almost eats (i think it was) rocket but like. dusts right as it hits the ground and is a really cool shot

and thanos sits down on a rock. and finally is gone. and it's so cathartic

oh joyous day!! they’ve won!! they’ve done it!!! wait holdup where’s tony. i remember what happened to bruce where the fuck is tony

wait

wait hold on

wait hold on a minute

“we did it. we won, mr stark. we won. please, mr stark”

“pep.”

“it’s ok. you can rest. you can rest.”

i have officially passed away and am a sobbing mess. you can’t do this to me. he’s gonna come back. there’s no way. tony stark doesn’t die. no.

this is a fucking funeral. i am going to combust into tears

“proof that tony stark has a heart”

i just wanted him to be able to see morgan grow up.

but him and nat are eating shawarma together in the sky now.

“i’m recording this in case something goes wrong, which it won’t.”

“i love you 3000.”

oh we’re still rolling. oh we don’t even get a minute to process

steve is leaving??? wait holdup we cant lose both. no

“are you sure about this?” “i have to”

“i’m with you til the end of the line” so that was a fucking lie

but steve deserves to do what makes him happy. so i can’t be too mad. actually, nah i aint even mad i’m just sad

bucky looks so dejected. so sad. someone please give him a hug. he desperately needs it

oh hey steve. but you’re old now. hey then, grandpa. how did you. get there

buck and sam go talk to him as they should

“you wanna talk about her?” “no, i don’t think i will”

“how does it feel?” “like it belongs to someone else”

sam has officially inhered the shield, and by extension, his very own bucky barnes. it’s a packaged deal

clint’s got his family back. and they can finally finish their picnic or whatever they were doing at the beginning of the movies

and steve finally got that dance. finally. and he looks so happy. so content.

and that’s about all i remember

i have not watched endgame since i saw it in theaters when it came out because i absolutely do not have the emotional stability to do it again. but damn the disney plus shows have been bangin

i hope you enjoyed the ride, thank you for joining me in my. whatever the fuck this is

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tigerseye46 · 3 years

Note

Headcanon: one time Tang and Pigsy got totally sloshed bc reasons and started bemoaning their own romantic woes at eachother. And in that drunken 'everythings a good idea' haze, both tried to 'help' the other.

Pigsy actually tried to text sandy some of the bullet points from the 'Why Tang is Boyfriend Material' list, but it came out borderline incoherent, Sandy just thinks Pigsy hit that 'i love my friends so much' state of intoxication. And is all "Tang IS a very good and smart person youre right!"

Meanwhile Tang AKA "known bastard" convinces his friend he's gotta REALLY up his flirt game so Wukong KNOWS hes into him! Here, hes got this poster copy of this or that Monkey King media thing, use this to practice. Tang wakes up the next morning thouroughly hungover but with some shaky phone footage of Pigsy drunkenly hitting on a poster. Haha blackmail.

WHEEZES The mental image I get from this is too great so I had to write it down!

TW: Alcohol

Tang took a swig of the bottle, his head slumped against the couch. “It’s like he doesn’t even see me,” Tang said, his words slurring together. “I’m right here! I get I’m not the great monk but I’m just as good.” He sighed and sipped his drink. “Why won’t he see me?”

“I’m sure he sees you fine, Tang. Y’know with his eyes,” Pigsy responded as he placed his palm on the floor and leaned back.

The scholar rolled his eyes. “Not what I meant, Pigsy. He’s probably just not interested… we’ve all known each for years if he was interested then he would have said something back then.” Tears prick his eyes. “It’s like you said with the Monkey King, Sandy has probably seen so many things that there’s no way he would look at me. It hurts every time he’s near me then Tripitaka gets brought up and ugh! It’s like I’m not there, only Tripitaka.” There was venom in his voice as he stated the name of the monk.

“At least Sandy goes near you! Wukong won’t even come close! Everytime I try to get to close to him, he flinches! I don’t know what I did! Did I do somethin’ wrong? Maybe it’s cause I yelled at him the first time we met. I ruined my chance… and he likes Zhu Bajie anyway, not some lowly pig demon.” He cracked open another bottle and gulped it down, the cold liquid pouring down his throat.

“You’re not some lowly pig demon, Pigsy! And the monkey king tries to protect you so that counts for something.”

“He probably thinks I’m too weak to fight any demons,” he grumbled. “That’s the only reason he does it.”

“At least he does something. All I’m asking is for Sandy to pay attention to me but nooooo, he’s too busy paying attention to his brother or something else. I’m not invisible! Ever since we learned he was Sha Wujing, it’s like I know nothing and everything about him. I’ve read the Journey a thousand times and I know what he was like but it’s like he has too many secrets, like I don’t know who he is. I just want to be part of that.”

“That’s the same with Wukong! I know a lot too but when it comes down to it, he’s so secretive! I want him to open up to me.”

“Same! Sandy could let me help him with stuff and I could get to know him better. He’s so changed from that rage-filled warrior he was a couple years back and no matter what, I still love him. If only he could like me instead of Tripitaka. How could he not like Sandy? Sandy is great!” He took a small sip. “The monk only tolerated him, I love him!” He stood up on the cushions, bottle in one hand. “I would be a great partner!” He took out the list from his back pocket, the corners slightly crinkled. “Every bit of this list shows why I should be his boyfriend.”

A lightbulb hovered over Pigsy’s head, his eyes widen. “I got a great idea!”

“What would that be?”

“Why don’t we help each other out? I help you with Sandy, you help me with Wukong!”

A bright appeared on the human’s face. “Okay! Sounds like a deal!”

“Give me that list and I’ll text Sandy.” He made a hand motion and the human leaned over to pass the list to him. “He’ll see why your boyfriend material.”

“Thank you, thank you, Pigsy! Okay so.” He tapped a finger against his chin then smirked. “If you want the Monkey King to know you like him, you have to up your flirting! I have this poster from that Monkey King movie from a year ago! I’ll get it!” He scrambled off the couch and rushed towards his room, definitely not tripping on the way, definitely not.

The pig barked out a laugh. This might actually work. He read over Tang’s list then texted Sandy. He squinted at his phone, drunkenly pushing buttons to craft the perfect message.

What was supposed to be:

“Hey, Sandy! Here’s a bunch of reasons why ya should date Tang and why he’s 100% boyfriend material. Number one, he’s pretty smart. He knows everythin’ about your journey. He’s also amazin’ when he’s not freeloadin’ off of me. He knows a lot of topics and stuff. He can make tea and he’s always there to cheer you up when ya need him. So here’s why Tang is awesome.”

Turned into:

“HEy, Sa7dyn Here’s a b@9as of reskns whY ya sddd ddds Tang and whY h4’s bLsfaDfhd ma/“:: N@0she 1, hy”s smort. KnPw’s j5urney. Also amazin’ w3$n he’U not fr33l”adin’ off of me. Ksfs lOT’s of Topics. C0n make TEA aLD alYS tH3r3 to cheer u ^ when ya Nkkd hIM. So H9r@‘s wHY Tang is a53some.”

Sandy must have been up since he responded with: “Pigsy? Are you okay?”

“Yea, ‘m fine.”

Sandy wasn’t the type to judge or question others for their choices so he deduced quickly that Pigsy was drunk and in the ‘I love my friends’ stage. He typed back, “So your message is about Tang?”

“YE2.”

“Oh well, I agree. Tang is extremely smart, it’s amazing how much he knows and he’s such a good person! You’re correct about the tea bit too, he makes the best tea!”

Pigsy was about to send something back when he heard “Alright! I got the poster! Woah!” A small thud sound was heard as he hit the ground. “Ow. I got it!” He stood up and brushed himself off. “Did Sandy respond?”

“Yea! He said he agreed with everythin’!”

They both giggled together, Tang beamed from ear to ear. “Wonderful! I’ll text him later! Now for you.” He skipped over to a wall and placed the poster against it, sticking it there with a small piece of tape.

“This is a fantastic idea, Tang!” The pig stood in front of the poster, Tang held up his phone, hitting record. The pig opened his mouth to speak and the human’s vision blurred.

The human’s head pounded, he slowly opened his eyes, taking in the light in the room. He sat up carefully and held his head, his phone was in his lap. He glanced around to see the pig laying on the floor in front of a Monkey King poster he had obtained last year. What the f-?

He checked his phone to find a new video on it with Pigsy’s arm against the wall near the poster. He turned up the volume and pressed play. The footage was shaky but tried to remain on the chef.

“Hey, Wukong,” Pigsy greeted with a wink. “You’re- you’re really cute. You’re like… really strong and handsome. Look at your muscles, really strong.”

Tang paused it when he heard a groan, he covered his mouth to muffle his laughter, only stopping when a stinging sensation ran through him. This was prime blackmail.

There was tapping on their door. He opened it to reveal Sandy with Mo on his shoulder. “Oh uh, hi, Sandy!”

“Hey, Tang! I figured I would check up on you two after Pigsy’s message.”

Message? “What message?”

“Oh, a drunken message saying something about you.”

He swallowed. “What did it say about me?”

“Just how cool you are! I think Pigsy wanted someone to see his rant about how cool his friends are.”

A sigh of relief. “Okay, good.” He stepped aside. “Come in.”

“Thanks! I brought tea!” His lips pursed as his eyes landed on a certain object. “Why is there a poster of my brother taped up?”

“Oh, ummmm… see, I received that last year and I finally decided to hang it up but I might move it,” he lied.

“Oh, okay! Want to help me make tea?”

He nodded with a grin. “Sure.” They walked into the kitchen together, the scholar’s heart thumped. He had no idea what Pigsy texted Sandy exactly but he remembered bits of that night, oh well, he could piece it together later.

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ashestoashesjc · 4 years

Text

A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend On A Couple's Retreat

Short Story 1/2/(3)/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

"RrRRrrrr... grrr? <Hey, uh, babe... seen my arm anywhere?>" rang Sett's voice throughout their cigar box of a house as he rummaged through closets, opened cabinets, overturned couch cushions.

Shutting and latching the front door behind him, Ulrick began flipping through the stack of envelopes clutched in his right hand. "Huh? Oh…”

“Okay, so… don’t get mad,” Ulrick began, as meekly and guilt-tinged as one can make a shout. “But... there was this huge, I mean HUGE silverfish…”

“GRrrr! Rrrrr. <Dude! Not cool,>” could be heard as Sett stomped his way to the foyer.

“I know! I’m sorry! I’m weak!” moaned Ulrick.

Sett sighed as he entered the cove and laid his single remaining hand on Ulrick’s left shoulder, the other sleeve draped flaccidly at his side. “Grrrr. <Well, yeah.>” he said. Ulrick snickered.

“You know, having your boyfriend kill a bug for you is exceedingly normal,” Ulrick said, separating the bills from the letters that weren’t bills. There were very few that weren’t bills. “Almost conventional.”

“Rrr. <True,>” Sett replied. “Rggrrrr. <Probably while the arm’s still attached, though.>”

“A mere quibble.”

“Rrrrgrrr? <So, where is it now?>” Sett asked.

“Ugh. Still getting cozy with the silverfish, I’d imagine,” Ulrick admitted, guilt creeping back into his voice. He covered his eyes with his free hand and shuddered. “In… the shower.”

Sett sucked air through his teeth in a compassion-filled cringe.

“Yeah,” Ulrick sighed, resigned to his trauma.

“Grrrr. <Don’t worry,>” said Sett. “Rraarr. <I got it.>”

Ulrick slid his hand down his face with a grateful groan. “God, I love you.” Sett pulled him forward by his collar and pecked his forehead.

Continuing to sort through the mail, Ulrick came to a red envelope and, seeing it addressed to Sett, handed it over. “Looks important.”

Confusion clouded Sett’s eyes for the first few, slow moments spent undoing the envelope’s seal flap, until suddenly, a surge of realization like lightning drove him to violently tear the crimson paper away.

As he scanned the contents of the letter contained within, words failing to do his emotional state justice, Sett began to fist pump wildly, God help anyone in the flight path of his singular elbow. Ulrick looked on in entranced bewilderment.

“Was there itching powder in that envelope?” asked Ulrick.

Sett shoved the creased letter in Ulrick’s face, his manic energy not yet dissipated. Ulrick took it and held it out at arm’s length until his eyes brought the words into focus.

“A couple’s retreat?” he wondered aloud, lowering the paper enough to peer over the top at Sett.

“Grrgrrrr. <An all-expenses paid couple’s retreat.> Rrrrrr. <At a swanky resort.> GrrrrRr. <Complete with water skis.>”

“This is from a contest?” he asked, rotating and inspecting the sheet. “When did we enter a contest?”

“Rrggrrrr? <You know those entry slips we’re getting in the post all the time?>”

“The ones I’m always throwing away? I’m familiar.”

“RrrRrrrrr ggrrrr. <Well, your aim could use some work, because some of them wind up in the mailbox,>” said Sett, with a shrug.

The sound that next filled the room, colored with exasperated mirth, was one Sett was used to Ulrick making, though one that never stopped bringing a flush of heat to the place where his heart used to be.

He grabbed Ulrick by the hips and the two began to sway back and forth. “Rrrrrr. <Just imagine it,>” he purred dreamily. “GrrrRRrrrr rrrrRrrr grrr...arrrr? <Massages, rock-climbing, a luau. And… did I mention waterskiing?>”

Swaying still, Ulrick looked up with his head cocked. "I've... never heard you mention waterskiing before."

"GrrRrrrrrr. <I enjoy a lot of things I don't talk about.> Rgrrrrgrrr. <Like country music, or bad chick lit,>" Sett said before twirling and dipping Ulrick in a blur. "Rraarrrr. <I'm a multi-layered zombie.>"

Breaking clumsily away from the songless dance and squeezing the bridge of his nose, Ulrick set down the remainder of the mail on the side table by the entrance and looked his boyfriend over. “It’s totally free?”

“Grrarrr. <It’s totally free,>” confirmed Sett.

Ulrick raised an eyebrow. “No catch?”

“Rrr… <Well…>”

“And streeetch! That’s right! Streeetch!”

At the front of Meadow Grove Resort’s famed yoga studio balanced - one foot planted on the ground, the other hooked deftly behind her neck - Chrysanthemum Smith, a remarkably limber 60-year-old instructor, urging her out-of-shape contest winning students to achieve the same feats of flexibility.

All around Ulrick and Sett, a pretzel factory’s soon-to-be-discarded collection of heinous, gnarly undesirables had been given life in the form of sweaty middle Americans.

That pretzels went through a less agonizing process being baked at 500 degrees was a fact Ulrick was both confident in and envious of. His legs were angled in a way he was sure he’d feel for weeks to come.

Sett, on the other hand, had apparently been a contortionist in a past life, the way he bent himself into poses, well, a pretzel would gawk at, holding each position stoically before moving gracefully on to the next. It also helped that he couldn’t feel what would leave most tendons shredded rags.

Ulrick gave up the pursuit of dislocating his pelvis and instead went to poke Sett in the cheek. Through his mask, Sett made a chomping motion at the finger, though remained otherwise totally still. "Okay, but this kind of bites, right?" Ulrick signed.

"A little. And not in the fun way," Sett signed back.

On a pair of blue, rubber mats to their left were two women - one in a biker's jacket and tattered, patched jeans, short red hair tied into a haphazard ponytail; the other a dark woman donning a shaved head, flower-patterned maxi dress, and combat boots - the former of whom suddenly grabbed Ulrick's attention with a nod.

"You're telling me," she signed.

And in an instant, they were no longer alone in the hazy, secluded sphere that made their reality.

So taken aback was he that he blurted aloud, "You sign?"

The yoga instructor shushed him from her place at the head of the wide room, leading him to duck down sheepishly. With the forced inclusion of an overly casual air, he said more than asked, "You sign."

"Oh, yeah," the woman chuckled gruffly. "Mom's Deaf."

Taking a sudden interest in the conversation, Sett's head swiveled to the leather jacket-clad woman. "Shit yeah!" he signed with fervor, eliciting a harsh snort from the woman. The instructor's head whipped around to glare her way, but went ignored.

Sett's hands jumbled for a moment before he continued. "I mean, I'm sure that must have been very difficult for your family and--"

She gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "Nah, don't worry about it. She's capital 'D' Deaf. A congenital thing. Whole family's been signing forever."

Her wife - Jen, they later learned - chimed in with, "Di does it at home, too. She's taught me half the lyrics to Boys for Pele."

"Wow!" Ulrick said with teeth-clenching enthusiasm. "That's so great! Isn't that so great, Sett?"

The mask did nothing to conceal Sett's raised, beaming features. "That's so great!" he signed.

"I'm sorry!" bellowed the lithe yogi, shattering all delusions of serenity. "Am I boring you?"

Several overlapping voices came to the general consensus of "Christ, yes."

One of the husbands, portly and somewhat resembling the famously affable capybara, asked, somewhat less affably, why they were being stretched into taffy when they should be outside taking one-on-one lessons with the beach volleyball instructor. He was joined by a few surly “yeah!”s.

They were met with an unimpressed crossing of the arms. Though it should be noted Smith’s foot was still being held comfortably behind her head.

"I would suggest, in the future, that you more closely scrutinize contest entries," Yogi Smith advised in as calm a manner as it seemed she could now manage, though with an unmistakable edge to her voice. "In order to partake in our facility’s more... physically involved activities, you’ll first need to align and cleanse your mental, emotional, and spiritual energies.”

This provoked a studio-wide groan, with the exclusion of Jen, who seemed just eager enough to cancel out the cloud of grim impatience encircling her.

“Unless, of course,” Smith said, shifting poses to something favoring the letter ‘G’, “you’d prefer to construct your own schedules. In which case, a full price admission to Meadow Grove Resort remains available.”

She sleekly extended her right leg, pointing its foot pin-straight toward the sliding studio doors. “Don’t, as the masters of yore were wont to say, let the door hit ya.”

When no one moved and the room went quiet enough to hear an acupuncture needle drop, Smith resumed a standing position and bowed three times to each division of the studio. “Namaste. Namaste. Namaste.”

Chrysanthemum Smith had in no way undersold how ‘aligned and cleansed’ couple’s therapy and its airings of dirty laundry and subsequent ferocious dissolutions of decades of marriage; couple’s pottery, the same thing but with clay vases; and couple’s finger-painting, a bonding exercise in shared humiliation, would make their minds, emotions, and souls through sheer gut-rending hilarity.

Ulrick almost didn’t want to stop watching people who, hours ago, seemed all confidence and bravado, now being brought to tears by an instructor’s criticism of their macaroni art lacking ‘depth.’

But their confinement was over and they were free to roam the grounds as they saw fit and Sett, without even feigning to look for a map of the resort, made a beeline for the largest body of water (and the largest gathering of humans) he could sniff. Ulrick was still surprised at times by how agile Sett could be on his feet when on the hunt for blood - or recreational watersports - and struggled to keep up.

Their long-awaited waterskiing adventure began almost as soon as they arrived at the lakeside, the instructor needing a volunteer at that instant to man the skis while he lectured another guest on the controls of the boat. At nearly a head taller than anyone else present, Sett didn’t need much more than a raised hand to stand out.

Things were going great; Sett mounted on skis as long as he was tall, the boat revving greedily for take off. At Sett’s thumbs up, the runabout hammered off in a thunderous roar. And then, all at once, things were going wrong.

The envisioned majesty of skimming the motionless calm of the crystal river was halted abruptly with a leaden Sett stumbling mid-lake in his skis, trying and failing to correct himself, going feet-over-head, and sinking like an anchor to the agitated silt of the riverbed below.

Ulrick, though he jumped with concern at the first hint of a misstep, expected a brief swim back, perhaps slowed a bit - but not much - by Sett's stoney limbs. He’d been the star diver of his local swimming hole as a teen and still maintained some of the underwater dexterity, though nowadays tended to lurk the floors of bodies of water like a carnivorous bottom-feeder; eating habits included.

But then a few minutes passed, and nothing. A lifeguard and two of the more experienced swimmers among the guests plunged into the river and searched for fifteen minutes, cracking the surface now and again for a gulp of air, all to no avail. The water was too cloudy with sediment to see past a certain depth, and the orange-purples of dusk were beginning to settle in. They'd need to return in the morning with a diving team.

It'd now been forty-five minutes, and three of the resort’s other guests were consoling Ulrick, one herself on the verge of waterworks. They'd just witnessed a man - someone's significant other - torn tragically from life's teat, and in front of the man he loved, no less.

Ulrick, for his part, was positively miffed.

"When I get my hands on him..." Ulrick started, before one of the grievers tossed him a teary-eyed questioning look. "Er, that is... would that I could only put my hands on him... again..." he corrected.

Just as Ulrick had begun mentally reviewing the basics of the Arts of Throttling, a movement, barely noticeable, shook the surface of the lake. Then bubbles, then the full break of the water as a head rose into view. Then the screams of onlookers as, in the fading light, a ghastly lake monster began its murderous approach. Then screams of a different kind as people began to make the connection proper. Then there was weeping, fainting, more than one declaration of faith renewed. It was a miracle!

Later, after insistences for medical attention were politely but firmly refused and the religious stragglers begging for just a smell of Sett’s waterlogged clothes were shooed away, Ulrick asked why he waited so long to resurface, to which Sett said, "GrrrrRRrr. <Well, at first I was just sort of embarrassed.> RrrrrrrGrrrRrrr? <Then I thought, "How often do these people see miracles?>"

"Oh, sure," groaned Ulrick. "A man comes out of a lake after half an hour and it's a miracle. A man comes out of a grave after a few months and it's "Grab the torches and pitchforks, everyone!""

"Rrrr. <Babe.>"

Ulrick gave a pouty grumble. "I'm just saying. One's a little more miraculous, is all."

Sett pulled Ulrick's head into his chest and stroked his hair. "GrrrRrrrRrrr. <Shh, I know, dude, I know.>" His heavy, soaked clothes and lack of body heat didn't chill Ulrick as much as they should have, and though a fine coating of sand covering him from head to toe gritted against Ulrick's cheek, it only made Ulrick rub his face in rebelliously.

"Okay," Ulrick said, resting his fists on Sett's chest and gazing up into his eyes. "What's the next activity? I think we’re... due-au for a luau?" The moment the words left his lips, his face collapsed into disgusted regret.

“Rgrrr... <Actually…>” Sett said, wrenching off his mask and shaking the excess water from his hair, teasing a blush out of Ulrick. “GgrrrRrrrr? <Doesn’t watching the stars by the lake sound pretty relaxing?>”

Ulrick grinned and took a seat on the shoreline, running his hands through the tufts of ryegrass stretching out in waves around him. He tapped a spot to his right and Sett, half-cocked smile in tow, came lumbering over to take it.

Hours flurried past, changing nothing about the image of the intimately silent pair but the number of stark white pinpricks in the sky they beheld.

They threatened to sit silently basking in each other forever.

And then Sett said, “GRrrrrgrrr, rrgrrr, graargrr. <So, Diane and Jen gave me their number, and they want to plan an outing.>”

Unease shot through Ulrick’s veins, but he held his tongue in search of the correct words. “O-oh?”

“Grrr? Rrgrrrrr. <Isn’t that cool? People want to spend time with us,>” said Sett, ensorcelled with the twinkle of every new star. “Rrrrr. <With me.>”

“That might be…” began Ulrick, before noticing the glimmer in Sett’s eyes and faint lift at the corners of his mouth as he stared up towards a great unknown. He sighed. “It’s going to be great.”

Sett rested his hand on Ulrick’s, their fingers interlocking. He smiled, and the two gazed into an ever-darkening firmament, speckled with a thousand stars and a thousand futures.

#A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend #short stories #supernatural #mlm #wlw #queer #series #A Necromance #original #fiction

91 notes · View notes

mulletcal · 4 years

Text

flowers, maybe daisies, might relieve the gloom. - an a.i blurb

a/n: i lowkey blame @sexgodashton for starting this whole mini series of boomer!ash things, but i also adore this because boomer!ash is soft as hell. and also a lil d*ddy but we don’t need to talk about that. title is from wait by sweeney todd bc i love it. alternative title was gonna be from L.G. FUAD by motion city soundtrack

word count:

warnings: ashton irwin being a thirst trapping, lemon stealing whore. i’m kidding it’s just a solo ash fic w no smut but some mild ash thirst trapping.

-----

‘ashtonirwin started a live video.’

Ashton didn’t often go live on Instagram, but this shelter in place order had left him ultimately bored - writing a song every day before noon, sure, but anything after that was a blur. Occasionally he would have interviews or live-streams with the band, but on days without that he was left alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts weren’t always the safest place to be; so talking to fans it was.

It was going well so far, simply asking fans how their quarantine was going - bringing some of them into the livestream so he could talk to some face to face. One girl in particular had caught his attention when they began to discuss hobbies she had picked up during the time she’d spent at home.

“Yeah, I’m learning to garden. I have a tomato plant that is just starting to sprout actual tomatoes, so that’s kind of exciting,” She had said, a nervous laugh escaping.

“Well, I would hope that your tomato plant is sprouting tomatoes, it would be a little concerning if it was growing something else,” Ashton replied with a chuckle, the girl giving a small shrug but still laughing along with him.

“You should look into it if you’ve got the room at your house, I bet it would feel rather rewarding to be able to cook something with your own fresh vegetables.”

“Would save me quite a bit of money too. Can I grow yeast? I’d like to learn how to make my own bread but here in L.A. you can’t find yeast anywhere.”

The conversation continued like that for a few minutes more, Ashton taking only a couple more fans into the livestream after that to talk to before he decided he should probably do something else productive with his day. Something like learning to garden.

It surprised Ashton the things you were able to order online during this time - soil being the main thing. He also read that saving coffee grounds would help, and he was excited at the idea of his insane coffee habit wouldn’t be completely useless. He ended up buying seeds for tomatoes, mint, sunflowers, lemongrass, and zucchini. The lemongrass and mint was specifically for Calum, realizing he would be able to dry the plants out once he had harvested them so he could make the man his very own tea.

When his package finally arrived, Ashton spread the packages out, sliding them across the table as though he was some card dealer in Las Vegas. Thinking the fans would find it amusing, he took a picture of the spread and added it to his story with the caption of ‘pick a card, any card…’. Maybe it would only be funny to him, but it did prompt a fire reaction from Michael.

It seemed as though the reaction from fans were positive though, them taking to Twitter to let him know their excitement about his new endeavour. That’s where his weekly livestreams began. He would show everyone the progress he was making with his plants, and just in general him chatting with fans. Ashton never really thought of how refreshing it could be to just talk to the fans, without the worry of time restrictions or anyone’s personal safety in the way; in fact, it left him rather inspired, loving their fans even more if it were at all possible.

A particularly warm day in L.A. left Ashton wondering if he should go out to the garden that day - but it was the day he would normally livestream, and he was excited to show what he was up to that day. Ashton wanted to plant another tomato plant, and also the lemons on his infamous tree had enough for him to make some lemonade so he was going to go through that as well.

Clad in some cut off jeans, or as Calum so affectionately called them his jorts, and a white tank top, he pulled up the live option on Instagram and waited for the people to begin to filter in before he started to speak.

“Hey guys! Just gonna wait for more of you to filter in before I actually head outside, but I thought that since you guys love my lemon tree so much, I’d make some lemonade. Fuck, I sound like a YouTuber. Is that gonna be my next career, is just YouTube tutorials on how to make shitty lemonade?” Ashton laughed to himself, slicing the lemon so he could juice it, ignoring the comments he saw about murdering his lemon children.

It didn’t take him long to make the lemonade, making mild conversation with the fans while he stirred in a little bit of sugar and some cheat mint he had ordered while waiting for his own to grow.

“Alright, now that I’m waiting for that to cool, probably best we go outside and check on those tomatoes, hm?”

It had been weird at first, talking to himself; but he quickly realized that he talked to himself anyways, even without the phone in front of him, so it couldn’t have been too weird for anyone who could overhear him.

“So I wanted to plant another tomato plant today, because everyone can use a friend right now, you know?” He looked into the camera, a smile spreading across his face when he saw the flood of cute little emojis that followed. “M’gonna be like the Bob Ross of gardening. No mistakes, only happy accidents or whatever it was he said.”

Ashton began to work away at his garden, building up a sweat in the process. It wasn’t until he leaned back, glancing at his phone did he see a text from Michael flash across the top.

‘Mate, Crystal said stop thirst trapping the fans.’

Ashton’s brow furrowed, unsure of what the text was saying, “Okay so I just got a text from Michael - what’s thirst trapping? And am I currently doing it?”

Of all the comments that followed, he noticed one that said ‘I mean… I’m not gonna say either way but take a look at yourself and get back to us’. Another one told him that it was when someone wears something in order to provoke risque texts, or gain attention from someone.

Ashton pouted, looking down at his appearance. He was kind of sweaty, but he didn’t think that the fans would mind him being covered in dirt and sweat, it’s not as though they had to smell him. Though, he would admit that he needed a shower.

“Well, since my tomato plant has been… planted next to its’ friend, and I’m apparently thirst trapping you all, I should probably go shower and clean up. Is me mentioning a shower thirst trapping as well?” Ashton rubbed his face over his hands, a small huff leaving his lips, “I don’t know… Fellow youths, tweet me and lemme know. Also, may hold a poll later on what to name these guys.” He flipped the camera around, struggling for a moment, to show the sunflowers that were starting to sprout, “M’thinking of naming one Denise. Just seems like a Denise.”

After his small speech was over, he ended the stream, grinning to himself. He hadn’t meant to show off his body in such a way, but it was funny to know that even with him hardly doing anything but be himself they still lost their shit.

Glancing around at his garden, he felt himself swell with a mild sense of pride. He was still a ways off from seeing any fruits of his labour (literally), but it made him feel good knowing he did something with his time at home, instead of slipping further into his mind which wasn’t always the kindest to him.

Ashton realized that when he was gardening, it was similar to songwriting in a way where all of his self doubts and fears went away and he could just pour himself into it - the reward being well worth the risk in the end.

Once his shower was done, he sat outside in his backyard, sipping his lemonade and enjoying the sunshine - realizing that having to stay home wasn’t all too bad, if it meant he could reset his mind, and do some small part to help how he could during that time.

tag list: @haikucal @talkfastromance4 @softbabiestan @boyfriend-cal @calum-uncrowned @wildflowerirwin @irwindoll @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @heavenisapeach @ridingcthood @loveroflrh @mantlereid @inlovehoodx @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga @g-l-pierce @thecurlsofgod

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #boomer!ash

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is-that-another-soulmate-au · 4 years

Text

Me? Combine two soulmate AUs and add in an animal hybrid AU????

Of courze, buckle up buddies this is gonna be a bit if a bumpy ride

Dream soulmate/soulpairs AU/Soulmate Ribbons AU/Animal Hybrid AU

Dream: Basically like last time you cant control when you visit, you cant see them, you cant say your name or where you're from. But this time its a legit group dream. In the dream your soulmate(s) will have a ribbon around them apposed to the simply blurred soulpair(s)

Ribbon/animal hybrid: with the ribbon au it ties in with the animal for the most part. You're born with a ribbon tied around your animal feature, whether it be at the base of a fluffy wolf tail, the end of a cat/lemur tail, at the base of cat ears/bunny ears, on any type of horns. Regardless of where it happens to be tied, it cannot be removed, it can be burnt or singed but it cant be cut or removed. The color of your soulmates nation appears after you meet your them, and you can then see the color of yours around them during dreams

So basically Zuko's 12th birthday he goes to sleep and in his dream there are three people with one surrounded by a pale white ribbon.

"H-hello?" He called out.

"Hi!" A cheery voice called out

"Im assuming you're all.. not my soulmate, because I'm 8" a slightly annoyed young girl called

"Your a soulfriend for me!" A chipper Boys voice broke through, the voice of the bright figure

"Uhm, I know I can't know your names, but I'd like to be able to distinguish between all of you... uhm,"

"Call me Bandit" the younger girl called out

"You can call me Oshi"

"And uhm..."

"I'll call you turtleduck" zuko interrupted him

"What? Why that?"

"Uh, well, I have a turtleduck pond by my home and I like it there, and uh, your my soulmate so..."

"Oh! Uhmm... what should I call you?" The boy paused a moment

"Sunshine? Maybe?"

"Yeah! Sunshine!"

"Alright, so, Bandit, Oshi, Turtleduck, and Sunshine?" Oshi piped in

"Yeah," bandit hummed "by the way, whats a turtle duck?"

"Ill show you one whe-"

"Im blind"

"What? Oh, im sorry, I didnt know. Well, if we ever meet I'll let you hold one. I'm sure it'll get the idea across."

"Youre blind?! That sounds so cool! I bet your other senses are heightened" Oshi chirped at the thought

"Yeah, and so is my bending! I can see with me bending, but im not too good at it yet"

"You're a bender? I dont know if we can find out what kind" Turtleduck mused

"Let me try... im an earthbender!"

"Woah! Cool! So you use earthbending to see?" Zuko questioned

The rest of the dream was fairly blurry to him. He ran to his mom to talk about his dream, going on about Oshi, Bandit and Turt; he shortened turtleduck because well, he wanted to.

They dont meet up until later that year, after his mother had left him he was found crying

"Sunny?" He heard Bandit call out

"Huh!? Oh hey guys, sorry, im fine" he sighed "I- I lost my mom just last week"

They all comforted him and then pulled the conversation to different topics, Turt talking about going hunting with his dad and getting hit wolf tail caught on a fishing line. Bandit talked about her earthbending and how she learned how to use her badger tail to bend as well. Oshi all the while hovered as close as the dream would let her, it felt similar to a motherly protection and he appreciated it greatly.

The next time they saw eachother was about two nights after his banishment he was found pouting but quickly came out it the pout when he heard Turt calling out

"SUNNY! Sunny! Hi! Oh Tui! Hi Bandit! Hi Oshi!"

"Hey Turt!" The girls called out "Sunny, whats got you down?"

He sighed "i left the firenation today"

"Woah woah, hold on, why did you leave- oh were you from there? Why would you leave?" Oshi pried.

"Uhm, I was banished for losing an agni kai against my dad"

"An Agn- thats a firebending duel! Your still just 13!" Turt cried out

"Yeah, well, my dad doesnt care about that, he made sure I'd remember that by burning me, now i have to find the avatar before I can return home"

Their conversation lasted for what felt like several blurry hours. When he woke it was to Iroh walking in with some tea. Zuko shot up and managed to get his blanket caught in his horns "AAAGH!" He growled out "help... please" iroh simply chuckled and untangled the blankets from Zuko's horns

"How was your sleep nephew?" Iroh asked as he started to pour them some tea, handing Zuko his cup.

"I talked to Oshi, Bandit and Turt again" he mumbled while bringing the cup to his lips and blowing some of the steam away.

"Thats good, were you able to discuss your banishment? I'm not sure if the dreams will let you, my soulmate and I have never met nor have we ever left our nations"

"Yeah, I was able to tell them everything, well the banishment and" he motioned to his now healing eye wound.

They had met a few more times over the next three years, Oshi revealing that she has a lion tail that is most certainly not as clumsy as Turt's consistently caught wolf tail.

About a week after Zuko arrived at the southpole and managed to lose the avatar there was another dream

"Sunny!" Turt sounded angry

"Uh, y-yeah?"

"You visited my tribe today" the ribbon around Turt was red

"Oh, uh yeah, I'm sorry. Did I hurt someone, I wasn't trying to, I just needed to grab the avatar"

"YOU DONT NEED THE AVATAR SUNNY!" Turt was fuming "youre chasing the avatar for what? The love of an abusive father?"

"Hes no-

"He is Sunny! I dont know the full extent of it. But if he broke your horn, burnt you, and then BANISHED YOU all for speaking out of turn, then that spells abusive!! That level of abuse and your level of wanting to be back says clearly that you were neglected and abused, what the FUCK Sunny!"

Zuko was frozen but it wasnt silent

"We've been trying to tell you this Sunny, your dad is terrible and you deserve actual love, your uncle is a much better dad than him, and you know it" Oshi piped up

"Yeah, I know but-"

"And! If I ever get my hands on him, it'll be his last day alive. Mark. My. Words" Bandit cracked her knuckles

The dream went on for a while longer with the trio eventually convincing Zuko he shouldn't search for his fathers love by capturing the avater. Turt managed to convince him to join forces with the avatar the next time he saw them. The next time he met up with the avatar was on Kyoshi Island, where he entered the town without his armor or helmet, and instead wearing casual garmets.

"What are you doing here Zuko?" Katara growled at him with the hairs on her tail standing on end. Aang was behind her with his lemur tail flicking angrily.

"Well, im not here to capture you if that's what you think. I came to join you"

"Why would we ever believe that?" Aang's voice was nearly as angry as Katara's

Sokka was beside Katara in a similar stance but had yet to respond

"Well, I honestly don't expect you to believe me, unless any of you happen to be Turt, Oshi or Bandit." He paused "look I was burnt and banished at 13 by my own father just for speaking up in a war meeting about how cruel it was to sacrifice new recruites for a bigger win, and my father sent me out to find the avatar." He sighed "i would have continued but Turt and Oshi managed to help me understand where I was wrong in thinking and made me see just how abusive my dad is"

"Sunny?" Sokka finally spoke but was matched with one of the Kyoshi warriors

"Huh? I mean, yeah they call me that, wait are you Turt?" He then turned to the warrior and saw the lion tail "Oshi!?" He stepped back in a moment of surprise.

"Oh my gods Sunny what the hell!" The wolf and lion laughed

"Wait, Zuko is the Sunny you've been talking about!?" Katara and Aang said in unison.

From there out Zuko was a part of the team. Suki having to stay behind for the time being. The group traveled via Appa or by boat. Katara, Sokka and Iroh having lengthy in depth conversations about waterbending and pai sho. He may or may not have been making an attempt to recruit them both slowly but surely.

When they met Toph she put two and two together so fast. "You're Sunny and Turt!" She exclaimed before they duo could introduce eachother

"Wait! Bandit!" Thay said in unison

"The one and only Blind Bandit!" She said proudly.

After meeting with her Zuko became acquainted with a chaotic good type younger sister as apposed to his own chaotic evil. Toph would often launch herself into his shoulders, grab his horns and say "onward noble dragon steed!!" Which he didnt mind so he never complained much.

Let's fast forward to the desert. While Sokka Aang and Katara went into the library to explore, Zuko and Iroh stayed behind with toph to protect Appa, when the Sand benders arrived while the Library was sinking the two firebenders fought off the sandbenders until the trio emerged and they ran off. Zuko, however had fought practically tooth and nail to keep appa there, dodging sand and blasting fire to distract the benders when they tried to use the sand beneath his feet against him. He collapsed from the exhaustion of not only fighting with a dozen benders in their element, but also the heat of the sun. Iroh on the other hand asked Katara for a bit of water to make sure he didnt collapse as well.

"Zuko!" Aang cried out when he watched Zuko collapse in the sand. They all got back on Appa and made their way out of the dessert.

Not long after they stopped at a small body of water to rest and wash up Appa so he wouldn't be shedding and attracting anyone Zuko taking a hot minute to get his strength back. They were approached by a couple who happened to have a baby on the way and Zuko nudged Aang "we should take them with us, yknow, spread some joy"

So they flew the couple with them to Ba Sing Se with them. They managed to get in to tell the earth king their invasion plan, as well as taking down the dai li with the proof of the drill right outside the wall. Without having the advantage of the Kyoshi disguises Azula didnt manage to gain the upperhand against Ba Sing Se, and in turn she had no idea about the invasion plan. Aang had his crisis at Ember island before the invasion and met the lion turtle just before they had to leave.

When the invasion began Zuko and Aang both went off to the city, Zuko in his blue spirit get up with his swords on his back literally being dangled in the air by Aangs weirdly strong ass tail. When the landed on the roof, it was still a bit until the fire kicked off. So they were dodging fire balls while running towards the palace, however right before they went into the throne room Azula appeared. She went to shoot fire but was shocked to see no fire come out. Aang smirked and bended the earth around her to keep her in place.

They went in to Ozai, Zuko drawing his swords and Aang readying himself to fight a powerful bender who possibly had skills other than bending. But they were met with a practically powerless man who didn't take long to defeat, taking his life wasn't the option, however, Aang knew that, and so he took his bending away, to the absolute awe of Zuko who watched the blinding light for a moment before shielding his eyes.

After the success of the invasion Iroh took the throne when Zuko told him he was simply not ready. However Iroh made a deal with him, he would be firelord for all of 5 years, set the ground work for Zuko and let his nephew take up some studying in the other nations as well as his own to figure out how he would rule after the 5 years were up.

And he did, he gathered as much information from the other nations, all with Sokka joining with him. He spend a year at the south pole, helping rebuild the place, he spend a year at the northpole studying the scrolls available, he spent a year going to each large earth kingdom city, and then he spent his fourth year in the firenation reading every scroll he could. One night while in his room reading through a pile of scrolls he leaned onto Sokka's shoulder for support, but Sokka took the scroll out of his hands "alright enough reading for you tonight, come on little dragon its bedtime"

Sokka's tail was absentmindedly wagging side to side as he helped his soulmate undress and get into more comfortable clothes, of course getting the cloth stuck on those pesky horns a couple times. But soon they were both laying in bed with Zuko resting his cheek against Sokka's chest while Sokka ran his fingers through his hair.

They could stay like this forever. And wouldn't you know it, after Zuko took the throne he proposed to Sokka and the two were soon married, the Wolf and the Dragon.

At the wedding Toph and Suki were the first to show up, bringing gifts, Suki gave them a pair of gold fans, one with a turtleduck on it and the other with a sun on it. Toph on the otherhand had brought a dagger with a dragon carved on the blade and a wolfs head on the handle.

>another marraige wrap up? Of course, its me what else would I do?

#RayMakesSoulmates #i will die on my endless soulmate au hill #soulmate alternate universe #soulmates #ambassador sokka #atla sokka #sokka x zuko #sokka #atla zuko #prince zuko #zuko #zukka #fire lord zuko #suki #atla toph #toph beifong #canon who?#lets throw the whole canon away shall we?#canon divergence

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owillofthewisps · 4 years

Text

gaze upon my bones

notes: are you ever just doing something and then you’re like ‘oh! a lightning strike to the brain!’ and you drop everything to do something else? that’s kinda what this was. which means idk about the quality but hey!

playin’ real fast and loose with gods and oracles in the witcher verse here because, well - i can.

title is from rafferty’s ‘mausoleum’

i tagged everyone in my ‘all witcher’ taglist but if renfri ain’t for you just skip it!

rating: hard teen? (warnings: canon-typical violence, major character death [canon compliant], brief mention of implied child death, brief references to sex, angst i guess?)

pairing: renfri/fem reader

word count: 3.5k

knowing fate does not save you from it.

People so rarely want the truth of fate.

You learn to read your patrons early, divine their desires from the lilt of their lips (pulled pink between their teeth, curved quiet around a secret, laugh lines carved around an unsmiling mouth) and the way their hands flutter like moths against the silk of your cushions. In the beginning, they come to you relentlessly, mindlessly, a river destined to spill into your ocean, to mingle with the salt of you. They pour into your endless reservoir and they never want the truth of it.

It is a hard lesson to learn, to swallow down the truth, but you never forget the prick of the mother’s blade against the soft curve of your belly and the way her sobs burned bright against your ear. When you were a child, pressing your ear against a seashell gave you the music of the ocean. If you returned to the coast now, you think, the shell would echo with her wails instead.

They do not want the truth, and so you no longer give it to them.

Instead, you carry their fates somewhere deep inside. You have been to war a thousand times, all without even knowing how to swing a sword. Have felt a man’s skull split beneath your blade, felt the pulse of it resonate up into your arm. Cradled a child as they sweat out a fever, held them for hours after they went limp in your arms. The first time you’d orgasmed, it had paled in comparison to the one you’d lived through the woman with hair that cascaded like fire against her freckled shoulders. The first time you’d loved, it hadn’t been as ardently as the man with night-sky eyes, a vast dark gaze full of the tenderness of the guiding stars.

A trickster god, you said to your mother, years ago now. Hundreds of other people’s not-yet lifetimes ago. Of all the gods you could choose.

She hadn’t known the trick would weigh heavy on you and not her, but that is the way of the gods.

(In your seventeenth summer, you give yourself to a forest goddess, let her priestesses drape you with ivy and fiddleheads still tightly furled. You trace a finger over the curved stem of the fiddlehead and turn your face towards the forest canopy, letting the dappled sunlight shimmer over your skin. It feels like a blessing.

Not three evenings later, you dream.

There are teeth shining in the darkness, slick white against velvet night, each tooth sharp with something unearthly, a knife’s blade of divinity. They smile terribly, and you know what it is to be small.

Very well, the teeth rumble, dark amusement apparent in the rockslide click-clack of them. I suppose you are owed a trick of your own.

You wake with winter spiraling down your spine, the chill spreading cool across your skin despite summer’s heated kiss. The gooseflesh prickles like little thorns, the sensation rolling over you like a shroud.

You do not know if it was just a dream, and you do not want to know.

If the trickster god has let go of you, he has not taken back your sight, the way lives unspool over little flickers of smoke with you a captive audience to their play, and that is the cruelest trick of all.)

There is inherent trickery in fate, you know, and most of your patrons’ fates are blurred at the edges, still intangible, still changeable.

Not Renfri’s.

She comes to the temple, hidden deep in the shadows of the woods, and you are entranced.

She is incandescent with youth, supple and wild. She reminds you of a waning moon. Aglow with vigor, the type of beauty that makes you want to raise your face to her and bathe in her light. But at her edges, a shadow that consumes, that edges closer to the heart of her.

She settles at the edge of the cushion across from you. Her legs are long, lean things, slender but heavy with muscle, and something in you aches to touch.

There is a small streak of dirt smeared across her graceful neck. Your sisters had offered her a bath, hands twisting nervously in their sleeves, and she had laughed, a low, clear noise.

“Some things we can’t be cleaned of,” she’d said. “I would see the oracle first.”

And so she came to you.

She slings her arm over her knee. In the sunlight, her eyes are the color of a newborn fawn, tawny brown and beautiful, but she has none of the fawn’s timidity.

“I’d thought of oracles as old,” Renfri says.

You quirk a brow. “Come back in several decades and I will be.”

Her pink lips lift at the corners with something sweetly sly. “I’d also thought them dull, so you’ve proved me wrong twice over.”

You hum something soft.

Renfri considers you, and you can feel her trying to split you at the seams, to open you to her curiosities.

“Do you truly know what is fated?” she asks softly, and for the briefest moment, she is delicate. Her leather armor, worn and nicked where blades have floated too close, seems too big on her.

More than I wish, you think. “Only time can answer that,” you say instead. “Would you like to know?”

She nods, and there is the snarl of a feral thing tucked between her teeth. The wild uncurls in her, that dark edge of the moon spreading across her, seeping like a shadow just beneath her skin.

You contemplate the small scars scattered like stars across her knuckles, the fine delicacy of the scar tissue, and the hard peaks of her knuckles beneath. “Think of what fate you want to know,” you say. “You may speak it aloud, if that pleases you, but hold it in your mind.”

Most close their eyes to bring their uncertainty out of the depths of themselves.

Not Renfri.

She meets your gaze, her hard eyes framed by the soft sweep of her chestnut waves, and though her face is blank stone, you can sense the bared teeth. She is all coiled snake, sleekly muscled and ready to strike.

“Hold out your hand.”

Renfri extends her hand. Her fingers are fine-boned, sleek and slender, but her calluses scrape against your skin as you turn her hand over. Her scars are small hills, and you trace the pad of your thumb over the raised skin without thought.

You have only a moment to register the warmth of her skin against your questing fingertips, and then her fate sweeps you away.

And it is terrible.

Blood swallows you like a tide, drags you deeper into a wash of violence that makes you tremble. Bellies burst and split open against the cruel drive of a spike; symphonies of cracking bones. The heavy thud of a sword pushing through a skull. The smell of copper and rot and death. An empty space inside, a void hungry for control, for taking back what is yours.

And then, for the briefest breath, for a lightning strike of a moment: your own lips, curling up into something fond. A touch so light it reminds of the sun, intangible but felt anyway. The woody, pungent scent of thyme mellowed by soft, sweet clover, soap and skin perfumed by the temple’s lush cloverbeds.

Then there is laughter, a comfort of familiar men’s low voices flashing by too quick for words. Blood blossoms and fades and rage so deep it winds up your throat like vines until you are choking on the breadth of it and then -

Snowy hair gone silver with grime. A voice like a landslide. Warmth and wonder, heat in the hallowed embrace of the woods. Two swords, silver and steel, and the bite of a blade at your throat. Pain spreading like a disease. A gaping maw of hunger never filled.

Renfri’s death pulls you out of her fate. You pick carefully at the threads of her still wound around the needle of your mind, tease them out before they can be woven into you. It takes more concentration than usual.

The breath you take is deep and slow; it washes the copper stink of blood out from your nose. “Do you want to know your fate?” you ask Renfri.

She considers you. She has eyes like the forest, deep brown and full of life. “No,” Renfri says. “Not yet.”

Your hand is still on hers, but she does not move.

You are the one who pulls back.

Later, once Renfri rejoins her men, Maya brings you a skein of water. She hums quietly as you drink deeply. “What did you see?” she asks. “It is not like you to be so shaken.”

You wipe the water from your lips. “Me,” you say. “I saw me.”

Maya cups your cheek. Her dark eyes are soft. They have the sorrow of the winter forest in them, bleakly quiet. She runs her thumb across your cheekbone, her touch feather light. “Knowing fate is a dangerous thing,” she murmurs.

You wrap your hand around her wrist, let your fingers play across the delicacy of her skin. She smiles, slow and sweet, and pulls away gently.

Maya settles next to you, her skirt flaring like an opening bloom. She rests her head against your shoulder and hums quietly.

The two of you stay like that for a long, long time.

Renfri returns a scant month later.

She is wild with delight, all bared teeth and feral joy. There is a cut healing on her collarbone; the edges of it going pink with the promise of a scar. Her chestnut hair is mussed by the wind. It wisps around her face like smoke.

She is achingly beautiful.

Maya must tell her where to go, for she finds you sprawled in the cloverbed behind the temple. She hunkers down next to you in one fluid motion. You blink up at her.

“Renfri?”

She smiles. “Oracle. You remember me.”

How could I not, you don’t say. Instead, you tell her your name and say: “You don’t need to call me oracle now.”

You push to your elbows as Renfri plops down into the clovers with you. She’s feline in her grace, stretches her lithe form in the sunlight, tilting her face up towards the light. You think of her grace as she prowls around the broad man in the market square.

“Would you like to know your fate?” you ask. It feels an odd thing, to ask it here, in the warmth of the sun with the clovers brushing against your skin, the sweet scent of them catching in the breeze.

“Why do you ask that?” Renfri says. She peers at you, shading her eyes from the sun, the deep mahogany of them almost black in the shadows.

“What?”

She sighs. “Why do you ask if I’d like to know my fate, instead of just telling?”

You shift. “People don’t always understand what it means,” you tell her. “Sometimes knowing the end makes you lose the present.”

Renfri hums. “I don’t think I could lose the present,” she says softly. “Not until I’ve run my blade through Stregobor’s belly.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“About what?”

“Stregobor.”

You sigh. “If you wanted to tell me, you would.”

“You can say it, you know,” Renfri tells you. She’s watching you carefully, those dark eyes half-wild. “You know the stories, even out here.”

“Do you want me to call you Shrike?” you ask.

She tilts her head. The waves of her hair spill against the shore of her shoulders. “No,” she says quietly. “I don’t think I do.”

“Alright,” you say.

You fade into silence, listening to the creaking lullaby of the forest. Renfri lies down next to you, her dark hair stark against the verdant green of the clovers. She tugs at them with nimble fingers. The snap of their stems sharpens their scent as it floats sweet around you.

Eventually, she tells you about Stregobor.

Eventually, you nudge closer to curl up by her side.

Eventually, she leaves, and you are left with nothing but the lingering scent of her - warm cloves and sword oil, and just beneath it, the copper tang of blood - and the choking feeling of a sob caught in your throat.

“Would you want to know your own fate?”

“No,” you tell Renfri as you separate a wild cherry from its stem. You split the flesh of it between your fingers and pry the stone free. The pit plinks into the wooden bowl, the sound of it oddly musical. Maya had pulled you both into the kitchen to help her when Renfri first arrived. It hadn’t taken her long to disappear, but you can still feel her warning gaze prickling against your skin.

Renfri steals the cherry from you with nimble fingers and pops it into her mouth. The carmine juice of it stains her pink lips dark. You try not to stare.

“Why not?” she asks.

It takes a moment to understand what she’s asking about. You pull your gaze away from the dark sweep of her eyelashes against her pale skin.

“Sometimes you can know too much,” you tell her.

Renfri hums. She cuts off a sliver of a nearby apple with a small dagger, holds it to your lips. You roll your eyes at her but pull the crisp slice from her blade, let the fruit’s flesh crunch under your teeth, sour and sweet in the same breath. She pulls back and sucks the juice from her fingers.

Heat rises to your cheeks.

You busy yourself with the wild cherries, breaking them down with the easy precision of constant work. The smell of them fills the air. “Besides,” you say absently, working at a particularly stubborn pit, “it’s hard enough already, waiting for what I’ve seen come to pass.”

Renfri pauses. “You’ve seen yourself in other’s fates?”

“Ah,” you say. “Yes.”

“Many of them?”

“No,” you say carefully. “Just one.”

“Oh,” Renfri says, and then she is working at the apple again, peeling its skin off in a long, curling ribbon. She’s quiet, then, and she stays quiet. During the mid-day dinner, with Maya and the rest of the table sharing the low benches at the long table, she seems to find her chatter again.

She leaves the same night. Her men are itching to move on, and from what low chatter carries to you, they’ve caught wind of Stregobor for the first time since he fled Angren. The sun is just gaining the golden hue of the late afternoon when she saddles her horse. Her men start ahead of her as she dallies at the door of the temple.

“Stay safe,” you tell her, even though you know that in the end, she cannot.

Renfri nods, and the sun catches in her chestnut hair, paints it bright and dark all at once. “The fate you saw yourself in,” she says quietly.

Don’t, you want to say. Please.

“Yes?” you ask.

“It was mine, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you say, and your ribs crack under the admission.

“I knew it,” Renfri breathes, and she tastes of cherry juice and a hint of spice bread. She kisses you again, fervent, her callused hands rough against your cheeks, and you open to her. Renfri softens against you. She tastes of cherry juice and something tenderly sweet and fate - fate has not prepared you for this.

She pulls away from you and rests her forehead against yours. You breathe in her air and push it back out as your own. Her eyes are mahogany in the afternoon light, tinted darker still by want.

“I have to go,” she says.

“I know.”

“Soon,” Renfri says. “I’ll be back soon.”

You push into her again, catch her lips with yours. She pulls you close, one hand dropping low on your waist, her fingers dipping under the gap between your bodice and your skirt. She is so warm against you.

Renfri rides off into the distance. There is a moment where she blocks out the sun, and it gleams at the edges of her, crowning her with light seeping around her shadowed edges. An eclipse all your own.

Please, you think that night, as you tend to one of the patches of your goddess’s favored ferns. Let me be wrong, just once.

You trace a finger across the scar just beneath Renfri’s left breast, a little sickle moon of healed flesh. Your touch is feather light.

Renfri laughs and catches your hand. She brings it to her lips, presses a kiss to the pads of your fingers. Her lips are swollen and red and hot beneath your touch. You echo her with a kiss against the lean muscle of her belly.

“What are you thinking of?” she asks softly.

“Nothing and everything,” you say. She had come to the temple wearing a leather vest with a familiar pattern. You could not strip her of it fast enough.

“Come now, oracle,” Renfri chides. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” you say.

You crawl up and kiss her red, red lips. She tastes of cherry juice and campfire smoke. It’s a lazy, sweet kiss. She cups the nape of your neck and urges you against her. Renfri touches you with a reverence you’d never expected, her rough hands soft against your skin.

Her hair is dark against your linens, the waves of it spread wide against your thin pillow. She glitters with delight, but there is still something feral tucked into her lips. She kisses you like a wild thing, sometimes, her deep brown eyes hazed until they are almost black, a velvet night to embrace you. You curl into her side and stroke your fingers over her skin.

The two of you doze until Renfri murmurs: “Would you tell me my fate, if I asked?”

You think of blood, and how the sound of two swords scraping against each other reminds you of a mourning knell. You think of Renfri’s teeth nipping against your neck like little knives, and her form molded soft against yours. You press your face into her neck and she smells of thyme, wood and earth, your soap still lingering on her skin.

She leaves tonight. The two of you are hoarding every moment you can have, winding sinuous around time like a dragon guarding its treasure.

“Do you want to know it?” you ask, tasting the salt of her skin on your lips.

Renfri traces the curve of your hip with a long finger. You pull back enough to peek up at her, to see the way the fan of her lashes flutter over her skin. She tips your chin up until you meet her eyes.

“No,” she says. Her eyes glimmer and gleam like torchlight.

You think some quiet part of her already knows.

You press a kiss against the blade of her collarbone. “Then I won’t,” you say.

The two of you stay entwined until Renfri has to leave. The Arc Coast is not small, and there are many towns where Stregobor may be hiding, though there are whispers that he is in a sorcerer’s tower in one of the larger towns.

Renfri’s goodbye kisses are always her hungriest ones.

She casts a long shadow as she and her men ride off. It glows around the edges, and you think again of an eclipse.

Not three evenings later, you dream.

There are teeth shining in the darkness. Each tooth is sharp with power, all honed pale bone gleaming in the velvet cradle of the deep, deep night. They are ghastly things, otherworldly, piercing through the veil. They do not smile, but you still feel small.

It is a cruel trick, fate, the teeth say, all rumbling thunder crackling just overhead, splitting the sky with sound. The order of it brings comfort, but the knowing - the knowing is pain. I am sorry, child of mine.

When you wake, you are already crying.

Years later, you step into a tavern and see a witcher with white, white hair tucked away at a table in the back. His eyes glow sun-gold, and he is as handsome as you remember.

You order a tankard of ale. Those amber eyes flicker towards you as you approach. His face is stone, but his eyes are a warning all their own.

“Thank you,” you say to Geralt of Rivia. “For trying.”

The tankard makes a heavy noise against the pitted wood of the table.

From the deep grunt, he doesn’t understand, but you don’t need him to. You still remember the look on his face as he skimmed Renfri’s own blade against the delicate skin of her neck. The desolation of it, the crack in the very foundation of him. You still know the touch of his arm against your back, how he cradled her as she fell.

You had always known you were going to lose her.

Knowing fate does not save you from it.

taglist: @whitewolfandthefox @hina-chans-stuff @witchernonsense @tutuwho @riviawitch3r @restingnurseface @consultingdetextive @ambivertomnivore @theunwantedomega @shewritesinthethirdperson

#renfri x reader #renfri x you #the witcher x reader #the witcher imagine #renfri imagine #me: i'm gonna work on my current projects #also me: does this

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maerrybom · 4 years

Note

Your OC’s Crushes walk in on them having a nightmare? Little reverse XD

oh gOSH I’m not ready for this jsadjsjks ;w; thank you for this ask !! this is a lil long to make up for my absence + not edited yet oops sorry for mistakes

also forgive me for my inactivity;; I returned to learning in school grounds a while ago but then decided to back online for a week since someone tested positive :/ stay safe lovelies !!

found in masterlist

Maye’s Route:

‘...Did I push her too hard with training?’

Johann aimlessly paced around the dorm in silence, trying to draw up conclusions to how Maye had suddenly fallen ill. The pinkette was perfectly fine yesterday, performing at her usual best during training with no complications until she had fallen over at one point and never got back up again. As her senior, of course it was my responsibility to look after her right now.

But where did it go wrong? Was the training programme too much for her body to handle? Has she been eating properly in the past few days? Have I been ignorant to her well-being? Why hasn’t she told me she wasn’t feeling well? I thought she could handle herself well, so I allowed her to do as she wishes for as long as she keeps up the routine with no trouble.

“...I thought I told you to reside in me.” Johann muttered under his breath as his gaze lingered onto Maye’s unconscious form with dejection evident in his aureate eyes.

Clouded with his broody concern, Johann carefully sat on her bedside as his eyes remained fixed onto the girl’s flushed visage, making sure not to disturb her much needed slumber from his movement. Maye’s usual ivory skin had lost its warmth as all of its been transferred and set ablaze to her reddened cheeks. She was sweating and shaking profusely, quiet yet heavy breaths leaving through her parted mouth. Johann never thought he’d see this girl look so vulnerable and weak when she was always so tough and faced through obstacles with a head strong mindset.

He gently reached over to take the damp washcloth already placed on her forehead before leaning over to the side to wet it once again with cool water. Johann then wiped her sweat away using the cloth with a feathery touch, but also took the time to observe her features. Her warm breath ran through the side of his hand whenever it was near her mouth. One of her eyes would twitch in response when the cold cloth came in close contact with her temple. The way her luscious lashes would kiss the top of her cheeks with every breath she took, suddenly realising that she had a small beauty mark found under her left eye.

Johann couldn’t look away ━ he couldn’t look away from how tired Maye looked. He shouldn’t have pushed her into this state.

“Guh...” Maye’s calm expression morphed into one in pain, biting down on her lip.

“...Maye?” Johann whispered and quickly pulled his hand away, afraid that he might have woken her up by accident. He was sure she didn’t want him to see her in this state, preparing himself to bolt out of the room once her eyes began to open.

But her eyes never opened, yet her face remained in disdain. Maye’s shaking got worse and began to whimper under her breath, shuffling her head from side to side as if she was trying to escape from something. Something Johann couldn’t identify at first before realisation struck.

‘A nightmare? Of course, it must be.’

“Mmph...” Maye whimpered, tears began rolling down her cheeks. “Please don’t... You’re all... I have left...”

Johann’s eyes widened at her whimpers, feeling tremendous sadness weighing down at his shoulders. This feeling was familiar. He understood well.

He then grabbed one of her gloved hands and held it close to his chest, using his other hand to caress her loose fringes away from her tear-stricken face. This was something he faintly remembered his mother did for him as a child whenever he had nightmares that left him thrashed in fear.

“Maye,” He spoke in a hushed voice. “Don’t be afraid anymore. I am here to stay by your side.”

Johann rested his palm onto her cheek, feeling its warmth melt the iciness of his chilly touch. He raised her gloved hand to his lips and laid a gentle peck onto her nimble fingers. He wasn’t sure why he was doing this in the first place. At first, it was simple concern for his junior but after today, he wanted to protect her youth and her life. Johann knows she doesn’t need nor asked for it, but he felt like he needed to stay by her side. And with that, Maye’s painful whimpers reduced to quiet breaths and was sent back into a peaceful slumber once again.

“...I’m sorry I was neglectful. I’ll take this responsibility even more seriously from now on.”

Take as long as you need. I’ll be waiting for you.

Sol’s Route:

“Luminous? Where are you taking that blanket?”

“Oh hey, boss!” Luminous greeted the blonde, “Sol was working her shift as a bartender all night and immediately crashed onto the couch. I was about to cover her up━”

“Give it to me.” Caesar cut him off and motioned to the blanket with his hand.

“Huh━Oh okay?” With no second questions asked, Luminous quickly handed it over with confusion clear in his eyes.

“I’ll do it. Johann is calling for you anyways.” Caesar huffed before walking away from the younger male.

“...Al...right?” The brunette scratched his head as he stared at the Caesar’s back before dismissing his odd behaviour, leaving the bar after the strange exchange.

It was already the early hours of morning, so no one else was downstairs at the bar. Caesar found Sol laid dead sleep on her back with her hands intertwined on her stomach as gentle puffs of air left through her partially parted lips. She must’ve been so exhausted to have decided to sleep on the couch with her uniform still on.

“...You shouldn’t sleep here, flower. You’ll crumple up your petals.” Caesar spoke to her as if she was awake. “You’ll feel terrible once you’ve awaken.”

Caesar then decided to carry her upstairs, so she can rest comfortably in her room. It wouldn’t sit right with him if he left her out here in the open when she’s vulnerable. Who knows what kind of wolf would attack her in her sleep? No way was he leaving her in this state. And so, the blonde quickly and cautiously wrapped her up into a ‘burrito’ with the blanket he took before carrying her like a princess. He could already hear and imagine Sol’s embarrassment if she’d been awake and it’d be wrong of him to simply touch her without her permission, so this is the best he could do for now.

“Mm...” Sol mumbled something under her breath but remained in her deep slumber, causing him to sigh in relief.

Once they’ve reached their destination, Caesar managed to open the door to her room despite having his hands full and fumbled to open the lights to avoid tripping over with Sol still in his arms. That wouldn’t be very ideal.

“...And down we go.” He made sure to take her shoes off in an attentive manner before partially undoing the blanket he wrapped her with initially and then covered her with another blanket found on her bed. She should be warm at least. He didn’t want her to catch a cold, especially knowing how Sol doesn’t look after herself often since she’s busy taking care of everyone else around her.

Caesar scanned over her sleeping form to make sure she’s well tucked in. He then reached over to unclip her hair and made sure to move her hair away from her face. As he did so, his cerulean eyes gazed at Sol with warmth and silently wished for her to have a sweet, peaceful dream.

“Ah...!”

But once he decided to turn around to leave the room, something had suddenly grasped onto his hand that caused Caesar to gasp in surprise. Sh!t, did he wake her up? After being so careful not to━

“...I didn’t kill.” Sol whispered in fear, her hand gripped Caesar’s in a tight hold. “...I’m sorry... I’m sorry.”

“Another nightmare...?” Caesar muttered under his breath, worry and uncertain coated his thoughts.

He knew about her nightmares, but that was only because Sol would often have dark eyebags under her eyes every time he asked if she had been sleeping properly. Sol would only dismiss it and describe it as her feeling ‘restless’ or was ‘too excited for the next day’ to sleep, so he didn’t think much of it.

Seeing her in this state made him feel a variety of emotions he couldn’t describe with one word. Caesar didn’t get a clear grasp of Sol’s mysterious past and asking Anjou wasn’t much of help. All he knew from her was that it was something she didn’t want to be reminded of. Although he wanted Sol to trust him and be open with her feelings, he wanted to make sure Sol was ready and that she would be comfortable talking about it first before anything.

That’s how much he respected this girl.

“...Just this once.”

Caesar then kicked his shoes off to the side with Sol keeping her hold onto his hand for dear life. He managed to find a way to lay down next to her side on top of the blankets and kept some space between them while holding onto each other’s hands. As the blonde got comfortable, he attentively observed her expression as he caressed her hands to soothe her in a calming manner. All he could thought of how horrible it must have been for her to be dealing with this in silence and how much smaller and colder her hands were in comparison to his. Caesar kept does this until Sol was at peace and loosened her grip onto his hands.

But, he made no move to let go nor leave the room. Caesar didn’t want Sol to be alone right now.

“...When the world turns its back on you,” Caesar whispered as he laid her hands against his beating chest. “I’ll be there for you no matter what, Sol.”

You deserve more than a peaceful slumber.

Thalia’s Route:

“...Where is that girl?”

Classes have ended at this time. The setting sun brought life upon the campus as students move around like sweeping shoals of fish. Indistinct chatter from the busy crowd enveloped Luminous’ bewildered form as he tried to search through the blur for a certain red-head but to no avail.

“Um... excuse me? Have you seen a short girl with long red hair? Kind of mean-looking?” Luminous attempted to ask one of the students that passed him.

“Oh? The witch?”

“Ah, no.” The brunette smiled awkwardly. “She usually wears a sport black headband and has bandages covering her arms━”

Once he gave that description, the student looked at him alarmingly. “The witch’s apprentice?!” He yelped, scurrying away from Luminous in panic. “I-I don’t know!”

“W-Wait..!”

Luminous sullenly stared at the students’ retreating form from a distance until they disappeared out of his sight. He turned around, shaking his head and let out the deepest sigh. Thalia, what exactly have you done to the point where everyone fears the mention of your presence?

“Luminous? What are you doing standing there?” A familiar voice called out to him.

With that, Luminous turned around to face none other than the sun herself, Sol. The tall greenette looked at his wide-eyed expression with a warm smile upon her gentle features. The sun’s rays enveloped her presence, creating a halo around her form and making her look like she had dropped from the heavens to aid him. At least that’s how she looked like in his eyes.

‘My saviour!’ He wept internally. “Oh Sol!” Luminous snapped himself back to reality. “I was looking for... a friend?”

“Pfft.” Sol giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “What’s with the questionable tone? Are they really your friend?”

“Ahh, it’s complicated.” He sighed, “I’ve been trying to look for her, but I can’t find her anywhere. I thought she was training, but Nono told me she didn’t even show up.”

“Oh?” The girl wondered for a while before realising who he was talking about. “Are you talking about my roommate, Thalia?”

Luminous almost screeched out of surprise. Roommate? With Thalia? How is this girl alive? “O-Oh, she’s your roommate?”

Sol only laughed at his dumbfounded face, “hahaha, yes! That sweet girl is my roommate.”

Sweet? Was she talking about the same Thalia? Or was she brainwashed?

“I was actually about to head back to the dorm to drop her off some food.” She continued, lifting her arm to show the brown bag she was carrying. “She messaged me earlier that she’ll be resting in and I happened to be cooking at that time, so I thought I’d make her food.”

Luminous simply gaped at the girl and Sol simply continued to smile at him.

“...But, I actually need to do something beforehand with Caesar about the festival we’re preparing.” Sol said while giving him the brown bag. “Do you mind dropping this off to her? There’s extras too so you can eat together! Also, here’s the key to the dorm in case she doesn’t let you in.”

“Wait━!”

“Thanks in advance!” Sol chirped before frolicking away from his flabbergasted form. “The food is still warm, so make sure that you both eat it soon! Bye~!”

Luminous had no choice but to comply.

By the time he stood at Thalia’s dorm room, he sighed for the umpteenth time before knocking the door. However, there was no response. Was she not in yet? Did she leave before he got the chance? Why was he even here in the first place?

After a moment of convincing himself to stay, he pulled out the key given and unlocked the door before entering in a hushed manner. Thalia’s dorm was exquisitely neat and proper, everything had been placed away in an orderly fashion. The lights were open when he entered and placed the bag down on her tiny kitchen table, but there was no signs of Thalia to be found.

“..Sniff... Sniffle.”

Luminous turned towards the direction of her room as soon as he heard muffled grunts and whimpers. He already felt uncertain about invading her dorm and was already getting ready to leave once he dropped off the food, but it sounded like Thalia was in pain.

“M-Mother...” Thalia’s cries were getting louder with every step he took towards her room. “...die.”

As soon as her stepped into her dimly lit room, Luminous found Thalia weeping in her sleep with her head sticking out from the duvet she had wrapped herself in. He wasn’t sure what he was doing but the next thing he knew he was already sitting by her bedside, reaching over to wipe her tears away.

“Mother..!” Thalia cried desperately, “don’t leave me..! I’m scared...”

“Shh...” Luminous hushed the sleeping girl, caressing her hair in a comforting way. “It’s only a nightmare...”

His heart somehow ached for the red-head and found himself relating to her in a way. He never really knew who his parents were, but at one point in his life he had questioned them for abandoning him. This world was swollen with humanity and barbaric beings that aim to create chaos upon society. How was he━no, how were they expected to survive this tyrannical world on their own?

Luminous always had a difficult time trying to cooperate let alone speak to her without instigating a fight. But at this moment, he shoved all his bitter feelings for the girl and replaced them with determination to try to get her to trust him at least. Seeing Thalia cry like a child left an aching feeling in his heart and it’d leave him miserable if he had chosen to leave her alone. As Luminous continued to comfort the motionless girl, she seemed to have calm down and had rested her cheek against the palm of his warm hand, snoozing off to la la land. Now, he really had no choice but to stay.

“...The troublesome things you make me do.”

I’ll be here with you, no matter what.

Elena’s Route:

“Mmf...”

“Master, I can━”

“It’s fine, Sakura.”

Chisei shifted Elena on his back who was currently dosing away with her face buried on his shoulder. He was trying his best to hide away his embarrassment, but the way she breathed gently at his ear and smelt the sweet essence of cinammon coat his nostrils almost sent him into cardiac arrest. Elena was forced to accompany him by Caesar to a small mission during their stay at Japan, so she wasn’t very thrilled and complained the whole way. To make amends, Chisei asked her what she’d like and she quickly demanded with no hesitation to give her a piggy back ride while she took a nap during their way back to the palace.

And so, here they were with Sakura tailing behind him as they made their way to drop the unconscious girl at her assigned room.

“Sakura, go ahead and prepare her room to sleep comfortably in.”

“Understood.” And she was gone.

As he was now left alone with the girl, he let out an audible huff and readjusted Elena again once he felt her slowly slipping off his hold. Chisei didn’t even know how or why he agreed to this, or why he even asked what she wanted in the first place.

Chisei further plunged deeper into his thoughts about the girl on his back. If anyone had to describe Elena in a way, it would be that she’s free-spirited. She was possibly the only person who had openly mocked & flirted with him right at his face with no ounce of shame. She was a strange bundle of eagerness and determination, especially in times where he would’ve had no other option but to choose the latter.

In his eyes, Elena felt like a daydream: typically childish, careless at times but powerfully vivid and joyful. A daydream he could never imagine himself.

“...ken.”

His ears perked at the sound of her mumbling, “Elena, are you up?”

“...Chicken tenders!”

Nevermind. She’s fast asleep.

Elena inaudibly continued to mutter and grumble about some ridiculous dream she’s currently having, causing Chisei to sigh once again. Even in her sleep, she still manages to talk his ear off until she suddenly goes silent. The hands that held the side of his shoulders tightened their hold and felt her breathing go heavier with every breath.

“Papa..?” She shakingly whispered, “w-where did you go..? C...ome back home.”

Chisei paused his footsteps, processing the words she just said. Was she dreaming about her father?

“...Sniffle. Why...” Elena started to sob in her sleep, “...leave me... alone?”

Her silly childish dream turned into a dark & dreary nightmare. Chisei wasn’t sure what to do, but ‘purposely’ nudge her awake. That should be enough.

“...Mm?” He felt Elena shift her head against his shoulder. “...Are we back yet?”

Chisei was silent at first before responding with a nod of his head, “yes, did you have a good dream?”

He couldn’t tell what expression Elena was making right now and didn’t want to turn to see if she was fine. The way she was starting to cry in his arms left an odd feeling in his heart, twisting his stomach in an unfamiliar way.

“...” It was Elena’s turn to go silent before letting out a forced chuckle. “Sleeping on the shoulders of the High Patriarch is the best, huh?”

She dodged the question and joked around, returning to silence and laid her head on his shoulder once again. Chisei knew she might’ve also been forcing a smile at him when she replied. He felt conflicted: on one side he felt relieved that she didn’t tell him the truth and played it off like nothing. He was never the type to be sympathetic towards others, especially with one that was fated to be his enemy one day.

But on the other hand, Chisei wished she told him the truth. He wanted her openly trust him like she’s always been open with her thoughts and emotions. He wanted to get to know her better. However, but it was too much to ask for the both of them.

“I’ll drop you off to your room so you can continue to rest.” Chisei mentioned after a while, “Good job today.”

She returned to him with a muffled reply, “...thank you, Chisei.”

Once Chisei dropped her off and exchanged their farewells for the night, he walked off with his head up in the clouds and had a serious expression evident on his features. Even though not asking about it was for the best, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself. He should’ve at least━

“...No, it’s a waste of my time. I should be content with where we are for now.”

I hope our worlds never collide. It’s for the best.

#dragon raja #dragon raja johann chu #dragon raja caesar #dragon raja chisei gen #dragon raja writing #dragon raja oc #my writing #ask prompts #asks #maye #sol #thalia #elena

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allywrites360 · 4 years

Text

Falling Snow.

“if you meet somebody and your heart pounds, your hands shake, your knees go weak, that’s not the one. When you meet your ‘soul mate’ you’ll feel calm.” - Monica Drake

Written for the prompt ‘Road Trip’ for Sukka Week 2020!!

Suki drummed her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, lightly tapping her boot against the gas pedal as she forced her car inches further. The car behind her danced against the trunk of hers, causing her to angrily slam her gloved fist against the horn, the loud noise raising far above the faint music trailing from the speakers.

She squinted ahead onto the highway, sighing. The snow was so thick she could barely see the faintly glowing taillights from the car in front of her. She wasn't going anywhere tonight. Suki could probably count on one hand the amount of feet she had travelled in the past hour. She shifted the pale green coat around on her lap in an antsy manner, rubbing at her tired eyes as they blearily remained on the road before her.

What a way to end Christmas break. At this rate, it’d take her all semester to make it back to the University. She kept her foot grazing lightly over the brake as she sat there, annoyance greatening as the thick snow flakes seemed to swirl around one another in an even faster manner, taunting her frozen status.

She tugged off one of her gloves, reaching for her phone from where it had been discarded on the passenger seat. The metal was cool against her skin as she flicked open her navigation app, long route back to the school etched onto the screen. Ice warning possible. Yeah. No kidding. The characters that had read ‘five hours remaining’ a few miles ago were now raised much higher due to road closures. Near double.

She tossed the device back where she had retrieved it from, not bothering to shut the offending thing off, glow contrasting the dark car. Suki caught a hint of a reflection from a sign to her right, squinting her eyes harshly in hopes of making out the characters. The car in front of her moved a few feet forward, Suki exhaling slightly as she pulled up behind it, sign now mere feet away.

It was an exit for a single cafe that she could barely make out just off the bustling road. In fact, the only discernible sign a building was there at all was the chipped neon sign baring the name of the establishment standing in the midst of a small sea of cars.

Flipping her turning signal on without a second thought, she edged her car closer to the boarder where the concrete met the grass, now buried beneath a heap of snow, hoping to slip into the exit along with the many others who had also grown sick of being stuck in the blizzard.

——

In hindsight, Suki probably shouldn't have been surprised to find the small restaurant completely filled. After all, everyone was searching for a way off of the rapidly closing roads. She glanced around the building, the heat much too high for a room with so many people as it pressed uncomfortably into her cheeks. A Christmas song that sounded vaguely familiar rang faintly from a cracking speaker in the corner of the room, clearly as exhausted as most of the customers.

She quickly scanned the room as she took a step in from the door. Every table was packed as waiters skated between them easily, barely wasting the energy to cast her a tired glance as they passed by. Finally, her gaze landed on a booth on the far side of the cafe, filled by only a single occupant. A cool relief hit her at that. Sitting in her freezing car or forcing her way back onto the highway didn't sound like the most pleasant ways to spend her night.

He looked to be about her age, dark brown hair tied back into a messy ponytail as he buried his face into his laptop. He typed quickly, faint blue glow lighting up the way his brow furrowed in concentration. Suki sat down on the seat across from him.

Sokka looked up from his screen, slightly startled by her sudden appearance. “Uh… hi?” he offered, raising his brow towards her.

“Look, I’ve been driving in that storm for the past four hours, and I really just need a coffee. If you haven't noticed, every other table is full.” She gestured out into the room, “Can I sit here? Please?” There was less of a question in her voice than a statement, but she was too tired to pay much mind to that.

“You already did,” he said, tossing her a playful wink as he turned back to his work for a moment, making a few errant clicks on the screen.

Suki blew her bangs away from her face as she pulled off her thick winter hat, tossing it haphazardly onto the portion of the cracked plastic seat lying next to her. “Maybe I should've picked another booth,” she said, sarcasm underlining her tone.

“Hey, you're the one who chose to share, not me. I humbly allowed you to take that seat. I could’ve had friends coming, you don't know,” Sokka said, every bit as snarky as her. He shut his laptop, pushing it to the side of the table, alongside a few discarded paper cups, as he looked over to her.

Suki raised her eyebrow at him. His worn sweater, crafted from a dark blue fabric, jostled slightly as he chuckled silently.

“I said I could’ve. I didn't say I did.” He laughed at the deadpan look she flashed him at that, loudly this time as his grin poured over into his crystal blue eyes.

It felt familiar somehow. She could've sworn she’d heard that obnoxious sound somewhere before. “You’re in college right?” Suki didn't wait for him to answer, “What school do you go to?”

He crossed his arms as he leaned relaxedly onto the small table. “The University over in Republic City, why?” he asked, clearly not having recognized her in return.

“I knew I’d seen you on campus before! You’re… friends with Aang, right?” she asked, smiling slightly as she peeled her coat off of herself, the room much too warm to warrant the layer of clothing.

He nodded, “I’ve known him since high school. I’m Sokka.”

“Suki.” She gave him her name in return, letting her annoyance slip away as they settled into their seats. After all, it looked like they’d be stuck there a while. A quick glance out the dark window confirmed that the storm had gotten even worse - something Suki hadn't really thought possible - the snowflakes growing larger as they mixed in with chunks of hail.

His next sentence cut off by a waiter appearing next to them. “What can I get you?” the woman said, not bothering with formalities as she slowly tapped the pen she held against her notepad.

——

“Sorry for taking your seat,” Suki said, hands cupped around her steaming cup of coffee, heat comforting as it bored into her skin through the cheap paper cup. She took a long sip, any remnants of the chill the storm had painted on her falling away. “Actually, you were really annoying at first, so maybe I’m not that sorry.” She smiled at him as she set her drink aside.

He laughed breathily in response, only half committing to rolling his eyes. Pausing for a moment, he shrugged. “S’not a big deal. Believe it or not, it gets pretty boring sitting alone in a cafe for…” He pulled his phone from the pocket of his hoodie, tapping it awake with one swift motion. Sokka audibly groaned; “Six hours.”

“Yikes. What happened?” she asked, watching as he buried himself in his phone for a moment.

“My dumb sister just had to visit her boyfriend, so now I’m stuck here,” he said, clicking on the voicemail glaring across the screen.

Suki raised her eyebrow at him, returning to her drink as she waited for his explanation. In response to her silent prompt, Sokka hit the speaker button, allowing Katara’s voice to crack through into the buzzing restaurant, barely loud enough for both to hear despite their closeness.

“Hey Sokka. Roads are still shut down here so I’m stuck overnight. Sorry you're still waiting at the restaurant… are you sure there isn't anyway you can get back to dad’s?” The audio cut out slightly before the message ended; a tribute to the still raging blizzard outside.

Suki winced in sympathy at that as he slid the device towards the corner of the table, right next to three empty cups resembling the one she held at the moment.

“She was meant to pick me up here, since it’s on the way back to school, but apparently couldn't be bothered to leave before the storm hit,” he explains, piecing together the missing info of the situation.

“How’d you get here then?” she asks, genuinely curious.

He loudly sipped his hot chocolate before he spoke. “Bus, but clearly-“ Sokka gestured towards the wall of white pressed firmly against the small window, inside lined with fog, “- they’re all shut down by now. I don't have a chance of getting home tonight even if they do open the main road.”

“The highway is open; not that it matters with all the traffic stopped outside,” she sighed, rubbing her fist against one eye, “Guess we’re stuck here for a while, huh?”

Sokka surprisingly smiled back at her, “Could be worse.”

——

The next few hours were a blur, and honestly, Suki probably wouldn't have been able to remember the specifics the next morning. She couldn't forget how it felt though, both throwing their heads back in laughter as the stars stretched across the sky outside, far beyond the steady beat of the snow. It felt warm, and not just from the constant thrum of the heater somewhere outside the booth that temporarily served as their own private world.

She couldn't help but notice the way Sokka’s eyes would light up every time he got excited about something; which she was learning was quite often, nor the way their conversation flowed freely, jumping from one topic to the next and never dulling, never fading. He made her laugh and roll her eyes more times than she could count, her sour mood carried away with the whipping winds of the storm.

Loud as he may have been, he would always fall silent to listen to her intently, quick to counter all her arguments as their discussions brimmed with banter over more hot drinks.

“Wait wait wait,” Sokka said, his voice bringing her wandering mind back to the present, “You mean you’ve never seen The Incredibles? It’s a classic!” He put too much inflection into his voice for the simple statement, making Suki bite down on a laugh as she shook her head.

“It came out like ten years ago! You can’t call it a classic,” she returned, barely a breath passing.

She snorted at the outright offended look that passed his face. He reached into is backpack, silent as he dug around one of the dark pockets for a moment. Fishing out a pair of earbuds, he moved to grab his laptop, headphones making a clicking sound as they lightly tapped against the device. “You can say that after you’ve seen it,” he declared, “And then you can humbly apologize for being absolutely incorrect.”

He stood, crossing the booth to sit next to her so they could share the small screen. As he queued up the movie, Suki grabbed her own headphones from her coat’s pocket, roughly shoving them into the splitter poking out the side of the computer.

��Comes with having a sister,” he said, mimicking her motions as he pressed play.

The opening theme filled their ears, much louder than it should've been, and Suki settled in to the film, leaning slightly into Sokka’s side. Their sweaters brushed against one another as they both intently watched the movie begin to unfold, surroundings fading away from them like melting snow as they did.

——

The screen faded to black as the final frame of the movie played. Suki’s mouth fell open slightly as she slowly tugged her headphones away from her ears. It took her nearly a full minute of aimlessly watching the credits scroll across the screen before she finally managed to turn to face him.

She was met with an expression so snarky she couldn't help but elbow him in the side, shock fading away as she slowly returned to the small cafe.

He laughed, halfheartedly rubbing at his side where she’d attacked. “I was right. You loved it.” Sokka’s smile was subtler now, more genuine as he shut the film off.

She let out a breathy sigh. “Yeah, okay. I’ll admit it; it’s a classic.”

Sokka stood to return to his seat set across from her, excited expression still dancing over his features as he shoved his computer back into his stuffed backpack.

The space next to Suki went cold as he moved away, despite the constant heat pouring from the building. She found a small part of herself missing the warm, comfortable way they had relaxed together.

“If we ever actually make it back… you should come to my dorm sometime to watch the sequel. I think you’d like it,” he said, stretching his arms tiredly behind his head.

“I’d like that.” Stifling a yawn, she turned her gaze over to the small window to her right.

The snowflakes now danced slowly downward, freezing midair for a fleeting moment on their path. They no longer created a picture made of solid white. She noticed she could see all the way out to the highway now, the rows of cars now thrumming in constant motion.

She dragged her eyes around the room, the quick gesture confirming that their table was one of the last ones filled, everyone else having filed back out into the cold long ago. Suki couldn't for the life of her recall if it had been before or after the movie started.

Sokka’s gaze followed hers to the window, his smile cracking slightly, “You should probably get going, huh?” Neither needed their devices to tell them it was long after midnight.

Suki nodded, standing to pull her coat back on, the melted snow long dried by now. “Yeah. Still a few hours back to campus. Thanks, Sokka.”

He turned back to his phone as he spoke, “Hope I see you around then.”

She frowned, feeling slightly guilty about just leaving him stuck there the rest of the night. After a moment of hovering next to the booth, Suki wanted to smack herself for taking so long to speak her next sentence; the obvious solution. “Come with me.”

Sokka smiled after a moment, looking up to meet her eyes, “You sure?” She nodded. “Thanks, Suki.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder, quickly packing up his things as they began to exit the building. The remaining staff cast them tired glances on their way out; evidently glad to have less customers to deal with as late as it was.

She shivered as the harsh winter air slammed against her, wind picking up in her ears as they stepped out of the warm light. She cast Sokka a look out of the corner of her eye, “You really don't have a coat? Aren’t you freezing?” Her voice was louder than intended as it cut through the silent parking lot.

“We used to live pretty far up north, guess I got used to the cold.” In contrast to his words, he shrugged deeper into his sweater. Suki rolled her eyes as she opened her car’s door.

The second they escaped the frigid air into the small car, Sokka snatched the aux cord from where it was tangled on one of the seats, quickly plugging it into his phone.

Suki snorted at that, “Way to takeover my car,” she said, flicking on the heat as she started towards the highway.

Sokka didn't miss a beat with his reply; “Way to takeover my booth.” They both laughed softly at that, silence falling over them for a moment as he searched for ‘the perfect song’.

As they merged into one of the lanes, headlights cutting a path for them through the night, the all too familiar chords made their way through the air. “No. You are not playing this song.” Suki was glad it was too dark for him to see the smile she was fighting off her lips.

Sokka merely smirked in return, beginning to jokingly sing along to the male vocals of the song, “Baby it’s cold outside,” he started, elbowing her to join in.

“It’s not even Christmas!” She talked over the radio as she forced herself to keep from laughing at the way Sokka dramatically mimicked holding a microphone.

“I’ll hold you hands, they’re just like ice,” He couldn't keep a straight face to hit the right note at the end of that lyric. “C’mon Suki, you know you wanna.”

She sighed halfheartedly, turning up the volume as she joined in, the pair laughing every bit as much as they were singing (something neither of them were particularly skilled at). The notes poured through the car, making the long journey before them seem a little less tedious as they lost themselves in the rhythm.

——

The song came to a close, and honestly, Suki had lost count of how many they had flipped through, a portion of their journey already behind them. She coughed into the silence as Sokka searched for the next one, throat tired from belting out the familiar lyrics to old Christmas songs.

“Suki, look!” His voice startled her slightly after the few minutes of fragile quiet. He eagerly gestured out the window to a vibrant neon sign splashed bright against the darkened sky, snow lightly grazing the letters boasting the name of the cafe; not unlike the one they had just parted from. “We have to stop there for hot chocolate!”

“We’ve only been driving for, like twenty minutes! We’re not stopping.” She laughed breathily as she shook her head.

“But they make the best flavours! Please? Dad used to take Katara and I there all the time growing up,” he countered, eyes still locked on the passing building.

“Sokka, it’s two thirty in the morning, do you really think it’s still open?”

Sokka’s mouth fell open, a protest dying on his lips as he took in the darkened windows. She was right. His mouth fell shut into a frown as he sighed slightly.

The building disappeared into the night behind them, and vast fields took its’ place to their side as they continued silently biting into their journey. The roads were mostly empty now, a few blips of light only crossing their paths inconsistently; most were wisely home by now.

After a few minutes of driving quietly, Sokka finally smiled, turning to fully look at Suki. “I’ll just have to take you there next year then.”

——

The sun spilled over the edge of the horizon as it rose, bathing the parking lot in a soft glow as it crested against the mounds of snow shoved to the sides. The familiar buildings that made up their university towered on all sides of them, now lying completely silent at the early hour as Sokka pulled into a free spot.

He reached over to the passenger seat, gently shaking Suki’s shoulder to wake her. “Suki? We’re here.”

She slowly forced herself to sit up, stretching her neck as she did so. Turns out sleeping curled up in a moving car isn't the most comfortable thing in the world. She yawned, “What time is it?”

“Too early to be awake,” he muttered, still smiling regardless of how exhausted he felt. Sokka slung his backpack over his arm, stumbling slightly as he stepped outside, cool air refreshing as it sent a jolt of energy through him.

Suki grabbed her own things, not bothering to put her winter jacket back on as she fell out into the morning air.

“Thank you,” Sokka said quietly, “For everything.”

Her lips turned up into a smile, “Never thought I’d have that much fun getting stuck in a blizzard.”

Their eyes remained locked for a long second that seemed to freeze time for a fleeting moment. Blue met violet and swirled together in a beautiful painting.

Sokka cleared his throat finally, ducking his head as he turned to head towards his building, footsteps echoing loudly as he did.

Suki did the same, after a few paces calling out, “I don't want to wait till next Christmas for our first date though!” She didn't have to turn around to see his goofy smile.

#atla #sukka #sukka week #Sukka Week 2020 #sokka #suki

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fandomscombine · 5 years

Text

I Wanna Dance With Somebody

I Wanna Dance With Somebody. Song inspired fic.

Cisco Ramon x Reader

I just had to write this, this had been stuck in my head for days after listening to ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston’ and itwon’t stop bothering me until I had it written out!

This is also my first ever song fic! And when an idea doesn’t get off my mind, it really doesn’t. I had the song on loop while writing this and its been probably been 1.5 hrs and I still ain’t bored with the song lmao.

This is also the first time I gifs within a story! You know to enhance the feeling while reading. << Tell me if you enjoyed them

Gifs are NOT mine, some are from the tumblr gif settings others I googled them.

21 December 2019 1:31am

Word Count:1237

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

‘Happy Birthday Frost!’ shouted Team Flash.

‘Thanks guys, this means a lot’ Frost smiled.

‘Oh thank Cisco and y/n, their the ones who did such an amazing job organizing everything in such a short time.’ Barry replied.

Frost raised her glass. ‘To Cisco and y/n!’

‘To Cisco and y/n!’ Everyone chimed.

Thankfully everyone was too busy looking up their glass for the cheers to notice your blushing face. Except for one.

The party is at full swing and you were becoming a bit too overwhelmed by all the people in the Star Labs Lounge.

To be honest, you didn’t expect this many people to show up especially since you and Cisco had only 4 hours to plan this whole party with the recent development of learning that Frost haven’t ever had a birthday party before.

Not to be complaining, you love helping your friends and it didn’t hurt that you got to spend more time with your best friend Cisco.

But back to the point, the Star Labs Lounge is packed to the brim and with all the work you’ve done today, you just wanna rest for a little while.

Leaning towards Iris you say ‘Hey I’m gonna take a breather okay?’

‘What?’ She shouted, still dancing.

You grab her shoulders to keep her still and shouted over the loud music ‘Imma go rest and have a drink first, okay?’

‘Oh okay’ and she continues dancing.

You successfully avoided the dancing crowd and made it to the Bar.

‘Oh hey Ralph’ You say when you see him behind the Bar. ‘Why aren’t you out there dancing? ‘

‘Oh don’t worry, my time will come. Just have to loosen up a little.’ He smiled. ‘What can I get you?’

‘The usual please Ralphie sir’ You smiled at the nickname you gave ‘Make it extra ice and extra mint. It’s getting hot in here.’

‘One extra ice, extra mint mojito for a Ms y/n’ Ralph announced.

Which made you giggled and turn from watching the dance floor back to the Bar. ‘Thanks mate!’

You took a sip ‘Hmmmm That’s the good stuff.’

‘Of course it is, It was made by yours truly.’ Ralph beamed ‘Speaking of which, yours truly would be showing off his moves’ He said while rounding the bar.

You watched as he made his way to your group of friends. Iris and Barry were dancing together while Frost, Cisco and Ralph looking like they have started a dance off between the 3 of them.

Boy you don’t know what you did to deserve these people and you were truly grateful for every single one of time.

The room was still a bit too hot for you at the moment despite your sink cooling you down. You look out the window and saw a beautiful sunset starting, so you grab your dink and headed to the balcony.

You lost time on how long you were out, too busy getting lost in the sunset and the cool breeze. When you heard a familiar beginning of a song you turn you head to see Cisco enter.

‘Hey’ he said. ‘Why are you out here? Something wrong?’ he asked worry appearance in his voice.

Oh Cisco, the ever so caring Cisco Ramon.

‘Oh what no!’ Shaking your head. ‘No No No! I just want to get some fresh air’

‘Oh good!’ Exhaling and putting a hand to his chest. ‘I thought I did something wrong and-‘

‘Cisco no, you didn’t!’ You cut him off his rambling. ‘You Cisco Ramon can like never do any wrong!’ You assure him.

With Cisco having left the balcony door open, music from the party came seeping in.

~Clock strikes upon the hour

And the sun begins to fade

Still enough time to figure out

How to chase my blues away

I've done alright up to now

It's the light of day that shows me how

And when the night falls, loneliness calls~

‘Hey I know this is gonna say cheesy because of the song’ He chuckles. ‘But do you wanna dance?’ Putting his hand out to you.

‘I’d love to’ You smile and put your hand into his.

He drags you inside to the centre of the dance floor while the song goes:

~Oh, I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the heat with somebody

Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody

With somebody who loves me

Oh, I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the heat with somebody

Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody

With somebody who loves me~

The next few moments goes by like a blur, both of you getting lost dancing with each other.

~Don'tcha wanna dance with me baby

Dontcha wanna dance with me boy

Hey Don'tcha wanna dance with me baby

With somebody who loves me~

Cisco points at you and motions you closer.

You shimmy closer to him and wrap your arms around his neck..

You see your reflection in his beautiful brown eyes, feel his breath on you face.

He is staring back with such intensity that matches yours.

He no doubt sees the blush back on your cheeks.

The exact same reaction unknowingly to you, he noticed earlier.

That he deduced with 90% certainty was because of the thought of him specifically and in the exact words of “To Cisco and y/n”.

Which actually gave him the courage to make his move. Much how that drink gave you the extra kick you needed

~Don'tcha wanna dance say you wanna dance

Don'tcha wanna dance

Don'tcha wanna dance say you wanna dance

Don'tcha wanna dance

Don'tcha wanna dance say you wanna dance

With somebody who loves me~

Cisco places his right hand on your cheek, looks into your eyes, briefly to your lips and back to your eyes and asks ‘y/n Can I kiss you?’

You bit your lip, trying to contain your happiness. You manged to reply ‘Kiss me’

Fireworks danced across your eyelids while you two kiss, you just wanna get lost in those lips forever.

When you both pulled away. Cisco couldn’t keep his face from holding his dazzling smile. ‘Wow’

‘Wow’ you say too, still recovering from that amazing first kiss.

Cisco takes hold of your waist and suddenly gotten a bit nervous. ‘I know it might seem sudden but it’s not y/n. You’re my best friend and you’ve heard me say it to you, but I want the context to be clear between us’ He steps closer and continues ‘y/n l/n I Love You. Not just as a friend but as someone more, I Love You y/n and I love to be your boyfriend.’

Hearing those words, made your heart beat fast than you can imagine. You stuck a strand of hair behind Cisco’s ear which made him closed his eyes to you touch which in turn heart your heart melt even more. ‘I love you too Cisco Ramon and I’d be honoured to have a boyfriend like you’

Cisco kissed you once again out of the pure joy that he felt.

You pulled away, admiring his facial features when I thought came to mind which made you giggled. ‘I guess that’s why you ask me to dance huh?’

‘hmm?’ Cisco raised his brow.

‘Because you wanted to Dance with Somebody Who Loves You!’

He laughed ‘You’re so cheesy!’

‘Hey! You love it! And so are you!’ You encountered argued

‘Yup we are’ He said before pulling you into a hug.

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szamsson · 4 years

Note

Could you write a prompt about Sander and Jens relationship? Maybe Jens feels jealous bc Robbe is spending so much time with Sander, and there is tension between them which eventually is resolved? Thanks! ❤️

Jens was chill. Out of all his friends, he’d say that he was on the laid-back side, not letting much bother him. He’d been through his fair share of relationship drama, but he could say for sure, that currently he was chill. So he had no idea why he was suddenly becoming agitated with the presence of Sander, everywhere. Okay not everywhere but Jens had some kind of weird jealousy that was churning his stomach every time he received a text from his best friend telling him he was ‘too busy with Sander’ to join them at the skate park, or that ‘sander had surprised him with something so he had to cancel their plans.’ It was starting to bug him.

Jens was proud of Robbe and he was so so happy for him. He could see how much the previous year had taken its toll on Robbe, the constant bags under his eyes, the anguish in his face as he fought the demons that were inside him. And Jens kicked himself every day for not doing more for the boy before he managed to come clean to Jens. Now, Robbe was like a brand-new man, nearly always smiling, a lightness in his step, and Jens had to give Sander some credit for bringing his best friend back from the ledge. But that didn’t mean he had to like the way Robbe’s attention was currently split between his friends and his boyfriend. He knew he was being unreasonable, and that Robbe still hung out with him all the time, but Jens wasn’t used to having to share, and he felt like an only child who was suddenly sprung with a new brother he had to share all his favourite toys with.

They were walking out of school one Friday, discussing what time they would meet tonight for games night, Jens promising he had some A-grade weed they could all share. Suddenly Robbe became distracted mid-sentence, squinting towards to front gate before a smile broke out across his face.

“Hello? Earth to Robbe?” Jens said, slightly exasperated as he waved a hand in front of his face.

“Huh?” Robbe said still looking forward, shoving Jens hand out of his face as he finally turned to face his best friend.

“I said,” Jens grumbled, “you’re getting the beer, right?”

As they approached the gate Jens finally came face to face with what had Robbe’s attention. Sander was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, looking casual as he flicked through something on his phone. God why was he even here? Didn’t he have better things to do than hang around with a bunch of high schoolers. Jens rolled his eyes as they neared the older boy. Robbe slinked up and wrapped his arms low around Sanders waist, looking up at him with stars in his eyes and he breathed out a barely audible “Hey,” and Jens felt that feeling in his stomach come to life again.

Sander looked shocked for half a second, before shoving his phone in his pocket and kissing Robbe full on the mouth, making Moyo and Aaron make exaggerated kissing noises. Sander didn’t even look up, simply flipped the two boys off, breaking the kiss eventually and wrapping his arm around Robbe’s shoulders as he faced the rest of the boys.

“What are you doing here?” Jens said, and he even surprised himself at how cold his voice was. Sander seemed a little taken aback, and Robbe frowned slightly before brushing it off.

“Um am I not allowed to be here?” Sander said with a little laugh, still looking confused.

“I mean, you’ve picked him up pretty much every day, he’s a big boy Sander he doesn’t need you to hold his hand.” And okay woah, Jens had no idea where that came from but once he opened his mouth it’s like all his jealousy and frustration just came out without his permission.

“Dude…” Aaron said looking confused. Robbe scowled and gave Jens a look.

“Chill Jens? How did you think I was getting that beer? It’s not as if any of us are over 18.” Robbe explained calmly.

“Yeah okay sorry,” Jens mumbled, then a thought crossed his mind and in a semi scornful voice he said “Well cheers for the beer mate but it’s boys night so you can come off Robbe baby sitting duty.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sander said. His voice was calm, but Jens could tell he was losing his temper.

See when it came to this the lines were blurred because as far as Moyo and Aaron were concerned, Sander was one of the boys, and he had been up until Jens started to get this feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s not as if Aaron was bringing Amber to boys night but that was completely different and Jens didn’t know how to come to terms with it. He just didn’t understand why Sander got Robbe’s time in the capacity of a relationship and also got to encroach on Jens’ time with Robbe, it wasn’t fair.

When Jens didn’t say anything, Sander continued. “Jens I don’t know what I did to you or why you’ve been acting so…hostile but cut it out dude. And I’m not coming to your precious boys night. So Chill. Out.” He emphasised the last two words, before taking Robbe’s hand, and with a final look at Jens, Robbe followed him down the street.

“Okay, you can tell us.” Moyo said in a joking tone, “Are you in love with Robbe?” Aaron started laughing and Jens cracked a smile, shoving him.

“I just don’t understand why he needs to be around all the time.” Jens complained, “Doesn’t he have his own friends?”

“I really think you’re overreacting.” Aaron said, “He’s not even around that much, and besides I think he’s really cool to hang out with.”

“Okay, you can tell us.” Moyo quoted himself from a couple of seconds ago, “Are you in love with Sander?” They all laughed this time and continued down the street.

Jens had felt bad all afternoon that he had let his jealousy get the better of him. He knew Robbe loved Sander and vice versa, and he loved Robbe, obviously not in the same way and Jens just had to learn how to not be the centre of Robbe’s attention anymore. As he walked to grab another round of beers he heard noises outside his front door. The other two boys had come home with him after school so he could only assume it was Robbe. He went to the front door and heard whispering as he unlocked it and pulled it open.

Robbe was standing chest to chest with Sander as the older boy whispered in his ear. From what he heard before opening the door fully, it seemed Robbe was complaining about something. But all Jens could catch was Sander whispering back “Hang out with your friends,” and “It’s one night, you can always see me tomorrow.” This made Jens feel even worse for going off at him, seeing as Sander was the one encouraging Robbe to hang out with his friends and Robbe was the one resisting.

The two stared at Jens as Sander stepped back, raising his hands and quickly saying “I’m going, I’m going,” as he turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Jens said, surprising both Sander and Robbe. He gave Robbe a meaningful look as in read the room Robbe I’m trying to talk to your boyfriend alone, but Robbe held his ground looking worried. “Can I talk to you?”

Sander sighed and motioned out to the hallway. Robbe stood in place as Sander looked at him and said “It’s fine Baby, although I’m a lover not a fighter so maybe stand by to save me if punches are thrown.” He was clearly joking, a smirk clear on his face as Robbe scowled and left the two boys alone.

Sander looked up expectantly at Jens, his face impassive.

“I’m sorry,” Jens said, wringing his hands nervously, looking anywhere but at Sanders face. “I was jealous, and I’m sorry.”

He looked up as he heard Sander sigh. He gave Jens a, not entirely, apologetic look before speaking. “Look, I get it. I know you guys are like brothers and it must be weird to suddenly have this random guy pulling focus. But seriously Jens, it’s not like that for Robbe. He fucking idolises you. If anyone should be jealous it should be me.” Sander was smiling now, and put a hand on Jens’ shoulder.

“I know, it’s just,” he was having trouble finding the words. “You were there when I wasn’t and I guess… I’m just disappointed, in myself.”

“You were there for the important stuff. You looked after him when I didn’t. And he’s always going to need you. Especially because I am the way I am,” Sander huffed out with a self-deprecating laugh. Jens shook his head, but Sander just smiled.

“I appreciate the apology, but there’s no need.” Sander gave him one last look, and Jens smiled back, the two boys feeling as though they had come to some sort of unspoken agreement, before Jens headed back into the apartment, laughing as he nearly ran over Robbe who was listening closely up against the door. Looking shocked he had been caught, Jens simply ruffled his hair and swung an arm around his shoulders.

#wtfock #wtfam #myfics

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darkpoisonouslove · 5 years

Note

Lucifer and Chloe and children. (And potentially having one.)

I finally managed to get this done after a lot of panicking over it but I actually liked how it turned out. I hope you’ll like it too.

Chloe shook her head as she watched Trixie bolt from the couch and into her room to look for something most certainly connected to the argument she and Lucifer had been having for the last few minutes. He hadn’t given in despite the fact that he was arguing with a twelve-year-old and while some kids–and parents–might have found that inappropriate, Trixie always enjoyed being treated like an equal and not getting handed things just because she was still a kid. And even though Chloe was half-sure Lucifer wasn’t doing it on purpose and was just a slave to his ego in the situation, she was ready to give him the benefit of the doubt since he always surprised her with much deeper understanding and care than she’d expected. Usually, the surprise only came after he’d done something outrageous first but it was enough to know he learned from his mistakes. Most people didn’t really, and it made him special, getting him a place in her life even when he made her want to throw him out of the car in motion.

“Are you sure Candy isn’t going to pop up with a child a few months in the future?” Chloe asked as she made her way back to the couch. She wasn’t yet in a place where jokes about Lucifer’s soon-to-be ex wife didn’t leave a bitter taste in her mouth but for the purpose of the conversation she could swallow her own feelings. She hoped that talking openly even on a topic she didn’t like would make Lucifer want to do the same.

Lucifer looked at her with that startled look he gave when she’d said something that had hit him over the head with a dawning realization that had been long overdue. “Chloe-”

“Because I think you’ll make for a great father,” Chloe said, not wishing to let them fall down the rabbit hole that Candy was again. They’d talked about that and she preferred they didn’t do it again. Not now at least. There were still feelings to sort out there and she wanted to get a handle on those first before diving into that mess of a situation. Lucifer was there now, without a wife on his arm, so that would have to be enough for now.

Lucifer chuckled but there was no mirth in the sound, only confusion and what sounded like fear hidden behind an attempt at deflection. “Detective, have you perhaps inhaled too much smoke from the joint I had earlier today?” Lucifer said, stressing the word he was trying to get her to focus on.

She had to admit that he had a point. And perhaps she had lost her mind to think someone with his bacchanal lifestyle could raise a child but she knew she wasn’t wrong. Lifestyles could change but it was harder to turn into something you’re not. And Lucifer was a caring person. He’d shown that time and time again and he’d convinced her it was his true nature even when he was also being selfish a big portion of the time. He did care about the people he loved, about his friends, and that she could never doubt. Even when he pulled a stupid and hurtful stunt. He came back and even if it was hard for him to apologize or he was thinking there was no reason to, he stuck around for the people he cared about. He’d always had her back.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Chloe said, allowing herself to tease just for a moment before she turned serious again, “but you’re good in family things.” She was as sincere as she’d ever been. And she didn’t just mean the family games he played with her and Trixie. He was loyal, sometimes even stupidly so. He was honest, even with his convoluted metaphors. He was involved, sometimes to a point that was downright annoying and prying into people’s privacy. He was protective, even if he tried to play it cool and uncaring. He was doing his best to understand people, or at least understand her. He was her partner and she couldn’t wish for another person to trust with her life.

Lucifer scoffed. “Need I remind you of my family situation? Because dear old dad definitely doesn’t seem to agree with you. He wouldn’t have cast me out of heaven otherwise,” Lucifer said, his voice getting that tone of anger and bitterness that remind her too much of how she’d spoken to him when he’d come back from Vegas with Candy and it did drive home the point of how hurt he must have been by his father’s actions, stopping her from rolling her eyes at the devil concept. It wasn’t the time for him to drag them into that.

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Chloe said, earning herself a look of wonder from Lucifer that she understood as much as she didn’t. He’d openly shown his displeasure with his father and yet, he seemed struck by the notion her words expressed even if it had been behind all his comments on the topic along with the clear feeling of embitterment over the whole matter. “It matters what you think and what you want,” she reached and placed a hand on his only to see the emotion in his eyes intensify. “And I think... I think you want a family,” Chloe said, wondering if perhaps she wasn’t pushing it when it was better to just stay away. But she wanted to believe that that was what had seen him marrying a stripper. She wanted to think that their kiss–especially combined with her near death experience after–had scared him with what it could lead to and even more so with the potential of things falling apart on the way there so he’d gone for the easy option and he’d gotten a family but he’d quickly realized it wasn’t what he wanted, or rather, not the way he wanted it.

“Detective...” Lucifer wanted to say something but there was something else stopping him and even despite all the confusion and lack of clarity in the situation Chloe understood. Or at least she wanted to think she did.

“You have a family, Lucifer. With all of your friends.” They had their differences, of course, but she was sure none of them would ever abandon the others. She was living with Maze of all people and Linda was being patient with Lucifer’s metaphors while Ella was giving hugs to everyone she could get her hands on and between all of that, she felt like she was a part of a big, crazy family. And she really hoped Lucifer felt like that too. “We’re all here for you because we want to be. Because you make us want to be your friends,” Chloe said, feeling the tears coming into her eyes and making a blur of her vision just like her emotions were in her heart. She felt a lot for Lucifer and even if he was pushing her past her limits sometimes, she couldn’t imagine her life without him now that he was a part of it. It had been what had scared her so much when he’d disappeared, and had then upset her when he’d come back with a wife by his side. It had felt like a threat to her place in his life and the loneliness of that had terrified her. So she hoped he didn’t feel like he had no one either.

“Thank you, detective,” Lucifer said, his voice soft like she was trying to convince herself it was only when he talked to her. “You gave me enough proof that you really are high right now,” Lucifer spoke, making her roll her eyes hard this time but she wasn’t quick to remove her hand from his and he didn’t seem to mind either.

Chloe only pulled away when Trixie came in running again and squished herself between them. “Hey, monkey,” Chloe said as she pulled her closer because Trixie could never come between her and Lucifer. In fact, she was yet another part of the family she’d talked about and she knew Lucifer knew that for certain too. For Trixie was always expressing her affection towards him openly and directly, unafraid of any potential consequences of her actions. And she hoped Lucifer and her would learn to do that too, side by side like they did everything else since they were partners.

#lucifer #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #deckerstar #trixie espinoza #trixie decker #fanfiction #my fanficion #my writing #in conversation #ask #trashcankitty12

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

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Academic Misgivings (Part Seven) - Peter Parker

You and Peter Parker aren’t friends, but you’re not entirely enemies either. You don’t like him but he always tries to be nice to you. He has everything you’ve ever wanted and you’ll do anything to show him that you can make it on your own. But can you?

What will happen now hmm? With Y/N continue to fight her growing feelings towards Peter or let herself let go? You’ll have to read to find out.

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX

Whether it was what had happened the day before with Peter or the fact you had added an extra layer of clothing, the walk to school felt a little less cold the following Thursday morning. The warmth that had followed you from the Parker’s home stuck with you all throughout the school day, only intensifying when you caught a glimpse of Peter. Across the hall in the morning he had smiled at you, the kind of ‘hey-I-see-you’ type of smile that had once made your stomach curl. It still did, only now it tickled more than it made your insides cramp.

Now you found yourself longing to see him in between classes when, in the past, you would have kept your head down. Throughout the day, whenever the bell rang, you scanned the seas of your peers for Peter’s face. When you never found him, you were disappointed.

That blunder turned to nervousness as you sat at a table in the library, the rest of the academic decathlon team sitting idle around you. Mr. Harrington shuffled through papers full of questions and announcements, a habitual action he performed whenever he was about to start a practice session. Wearily, you flicked your gaze to the library doors then back to the table, as if that, if you wished hard enough, Peter would simply apparate out of thin air.

As you tore your eyes from the door, you caught a glimpse of Flash. He was leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head and a smug smirk on his face. The sight made your blood boil. Flash was still going ahead with the plan, at least his part in making Peter late to practices, and you still had to tell him you wanted out. Just when the courage to pull Flash aside and remove yourself from his scheme, the creaking of a door reached your ears.

“Hi, hey, sorry,” Peter greeted the team. He rushed over, gave you that signature smile and pulled the empty chair out at your side. A wave of relief washed over you as Peter sat down. With a contented breath, you glanced up at Flash whose thick brows were knitted tight with confusion.

“Alright, great,” Mr. Harrington cleared his throat, “now that we’re all here, we can start with some announcements. Betty, I believe as our student council representative, you have something to say.”

Much too eagerly, the blonde stood up from her chair with her skirt effortlessly flowing along in the motion. Betty prided herself on her polished appearance, just as you thought Peter had when you had been so consumed by jealousy. She glanced over the table with a condescending smile and a smack of her lips before she began her speech.

“As you all may know, the Winter Formal is coming up and all school extracurricular organizations have been asked to participate in fundraising for the dance!” Betty clapped for herself, but the sound was muffled by a loud chorus of groans. “We have pamphlets and posters, the Culinary Club is making cupcakes for a bake sale!”

Mr. Harrington raised his hands in a calming gesture. “How about you all partner up for this activity to split up the workload? Maybe ask your families, local businesses-”

“You want us to ask for money to fund a premature mating ritual masked as a high school cliche?” MJ’s question, as per usual, stunned Mr. Harrington into silence. His mouth opened but a dull sound of confusion was all that answered her.

“It’s not….that,” Betty grumbled, “it’s a nice dance!” MJ rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the book held tightly in her hand.

The table fell quiet as Mr. Harrington passed out fundraising packets to the team. Peter handed you the papers, fingers brushed lightly against your own as he did. The soft touch sent a shiver down your spine, one that you tried to hide as you passed the rest of the packets down.

“Also, the person or partners who raises the most money get a surprise at the dance!” Betty beamed happily, her already bright blue eyes sparkling with school cheer. No wonder she didn’t get along with MJ very well.

“What kind of surprise?” Ned pressed, his eyes scanning over the packet.

“Well that would ruin it, now wouldn’t it?!” Betty plugged with an overt optimism that had you send a glance at Peter. He met your gaze and smiled in a way that told you that, he too, found this wholly unappealing.

“So partner up,” Mr. Harrington said once Betty had sat back down. “Once you have a partner, make sure all the donation forms are in your packets and get busy.”

“No...no practice today?” The question slipped from your lips without you even thinking about it. It was an instinct to question any disruption in your routine. You heard two or three snickers directed at you, a whisper entailing an insult, but you hardly cared.

“Nope, just fundraising,” Mr. Harrington replied with a half-hearted thumbs up. Your face fell but you were quickly overtaken by a sudden bustling about the table. People were scrambling to find partners, including Flash who was making his way to your seat. No, no, no...

Nearly tipping out of your chair, you turned to face Peter with wild desperation holding you in place. “Pete, do you want to be partners?”

You didn’t even notice the nickname, how natural it felt falling from your lips. Your attention was enraptured by the way Peter smiled when he heard it. The softness of his features warmed you, stole you away from the present in a whirlwind before Peter decided to reply.

“I...y-yeah! Yeah.” His brown eyes darted across the peaks of your face as if reading a map. Before he could reach the end of your lips, Flash came up to you in a blur of a gaudy patterns on his shirt.

“So that surprise huh? What to win it with a guarantee?” Flash smirked at you and, as if he thought you might change your mind, Peter frowned.

“Peter and I are working together, Flash,” you growled out his name and pointed your brows at him. Silent message received, Flash sent you a wink.

“I guess I’ll see you on the dance floor then.” Flash grinned as he turned around, knocking his shoulder against Peter’s still sitting form. Despite the impact, Peter barely moved and in a rush, Flash spat out an insult to aid in his recovery, “you too, loser.”

“Ignore him,” you sighed and locked eyes with Peter’s for a split second. Where he used to look offended when Flash was rude, he just looked annoyed. Slightly miffed, he glanced over his shoulder to watch Flash as Betty strode away from the black-haried boy looking grossed out.

“I wish I could,” he replied and the exhaustion in his voice made your heart hurt. When Peter turned his gaze back to yours instinct told you to pull your eyes away. With the slightest hesitation, you did.

“So, fundraising?” You grabbed your packet and began to stand in the hopes that movement would drive your muddled feelings towards Peter away for the time being. As much as you were happy to have him in your life, some strange part of you missed the days where you hated him. It was so much easier than dealing with ...real feelings.

“Fundraising,” Peter sighed, “we could hit the coffee shop, ask for donations there?”

“That’s a good idea.” You pulled your bag over your shoulder and Peter mirrored the action with his own before you both started towards the door. “Plus then we can study there afterwards.”

“Oh, uh, I can’t today, Y/N,” Peter stammered as he opened the door for you. As you walked through you gave him a strange look. Just the day before he had been brainstorming ways to tutor you in confidence, now he was backtracking. You had overstepped, you must have, at some point. Your confession yesterday evening was a lot to ask anyone to handle let alone a teenage boy.

“Oh, okay.” Your tone dropped and you hated how disappointed you sounded.

“Yeah I got like internship stuff and-and...uh...dog walking...around the city.” You quirked a brow at Peter as you walked. He had fallen into step at your side, giving you a perfect view of his profile and reddened cheeks.

“Dog walking? You walk dogs?” Peter glanced at you with a look of worry before smiling nervously. He was no good at hiding what he felt and you liked it. Peter wasn’t hard to hate nor was he hard to read; he was an open book even if he was lying.

“Y-yeah, dogs are g-great and gotta get some cash somehow, right?” He let out a breathy little laugh and before you could question him further, he opened the school’s front door for you. “Anyway, I can help you at the coffee shop but then I think I should get going.”

“Okay, I’ll probably stay there late and study anyway if you want to join in.” The afternoon cold nipped at your skin and sent a shiver down your spine. Although you weren’t sure if it was entirely the breeze or the impending loneliness of the rest of the day.

“That’s cool, but Y/N,” Peter started as you both made your way to the cafe, “you should do something else.”

“Something else?”

“I mean, what I was saying yesterday, you should find things you like other than studying. Something you can do even if it’s just for you.” You both stopped and waited for the traffic to slow at the end of the block. The sign for the coffee shop was just within your sight as you mulled over what Peter had said.

“What should I try?” You pondered aloud and Peter shrugged.

“There’s a whole world outside of your walk between home and school. There’s that old bookstore on Birch Street, a seamstress on the corner-”

“A seamstress? You want me to try sowing?” Peter shook his head at your incredulous look.

“I mean, if you might like it, it’s worth a try right?” The traffic let up and you both crossed the street. “If you learn how to sow before the dance, you could get paid to like fix dresses and stuff.”

“I’m with MJ on this one,” you groaned and you heard Peter hum with interest. “I have no inclination to go to, as she said, a ‘premature dating ritual’. I didn’t even go to homecoming,whenever that was.”

At the mention of the dance, Peter fell into an unnatural state of silence. Not a quip or optimistic comment passed over his lips. Instead, his face hardened and jaw clenched. Whatever nerve you had inadvertently stepped on, you wanted to smooth it over.

“Didn’t you go with Liz? She was nice...” You weren’t lying, not really. You hadn’t really known Liz, only that she was older than you and Peter and very active in Midtown High. When she left, the decathlon team underwent reorganization that put Peter at the top of A team and started your one-sided sense of rivalry.

Or was it always jealousy? Your envy and twisted disdain towards all-things-Peter had started with Liz. The disgusting, love-struck glances. The thought of Peter’s puppy eyes towards her made you cringe just thinking about it.

“Yeah...she was,” Peter’s voice cut through your reflection. You spared a glance at him and saw, he too, had been ruminating too. “But uh, you’re not going?”

“To the Winter Formal? No, probably not.”

“Me neither,” Peter agreed, “I don’t think I want to go with Ned. The last time we went to a dance together was in eighth grade and he wouldn’t stop-”

“Doing the Cupid Shuffle,” you finished, “I remember.”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed, “I feel like things were easier then.”

You nodded at his words, as you both walked. It truly had been an easy part of your life; less worries, less confusion, but less Peter. That trade off didn’t seem so appealing as it once had. You snuck another glance at Peter and saw that his softness had returned.

“Yeah, it was but I like things now,” you murmured.

“It is pretty cool,” he agreed. “What if someone asked you though?”

“What?” You stopped when you reached the front windows of the coffee shop. From the view, it didn’t look terribly busy inside. “Asked me what?”

“To the dance,” Peter explained. He stood by the entrance but he faced you, brown eyes searching your expression. “Would you go then?”

“I...I don’t know.” It felt like your brain had ceased to function, little sparklers of delight gave you a sense of lightheadedness. “Maybe?”

“I thought that...did...did Flash not ask you to go?” Your eyes widened and felt a wave of slight disgust wash over your shoulders at Peter’s innocent question. Suddenly your mind was once again grounded in the moment and horrified at the thought of going to a dance with Flash when you wanted to go with ...a speeding car drove by with music loud enough that you couldn’t hear the finished thought.

“W-why would he?”

Peter’s cheek turned a bright pink and he scratched at the back of his neck. The movement made the sleeve of his plaid button up fall to the middle of his forearm, where the veins spilled into his hand. The detail held your attention much too long for your liking. You turned your eyes to the bustling road to your right.

The area of Queens that surrounded the school always had traffic in the early evening. The roar of the train on it’s stacked rails was almost drowned out by the activity on the street below. Despite the congestion of cars, plant life in the form of small bushes and aromatic pink pansies sprouted up from cramped corner lots. Even with the world around you demanding all your senses, you felt some string of your being pulled towards Peter the moment he spoke up.

“I don’t know, you guys jus’ seem close so I figured that-”

“No, no, no,” you began to shake your head. “No we’re not....Flash is, arguably, the worse.” Your vehement denial made Peter laugh lightly, a sound that soothed over the burning embarrassment that rose up from your skin.

“Yeah, I guess so. I think I’ve met worse though.” Peter opened the door to the coffee shop for you and you walked by him with a disbelieving look.

“Really, huh?”

“Really.”

“Well that was painless,” Peter joked as you walked towards a table nestled in the corner of the shop. “And we got to meet who made those awesome cookies last time.”

“Yeah, he was nice,” you said as you rubbed your head as you recalled the baker. The blonde, middle-aged owner of the restaurant had agreed to give a small donation to the school’s fundraiser. After she had, in full detail, rattled on about her fitness journey and the revolutionary results of the keto diet. “Ms. Ferguson was chatty though.”

“Do you really think bread is the root of all evil, like she said?” You glanced over at Peter as you took a seat and shook your head.

“Bread is man’s greatest creation, Pete. That’s just common knowledge.” That nickname again. You had to watch it before it got out of hand.

“Is that a decathlon, scholastic grade fact or are you just saying that?” Peter stood beside the table, not sitting because, as you remembered, he would have to go soon. The thought of him leaving made your stomach drop but you smiled anyway.

“I’m being dead serious,” you fired back with a grin. Peter laughed and adjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “You still have to go?”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed and you frowned slightly. “sorry, Y/N, but I-I, I’ll text you later if I think I can make it back here. I don’t think I can, I have a pretty busy night. Just let me know if you leave.” You smiled softly at his rambling.

“Okay, have a good night, Pete.” He smiled at you which cut himself off from talking anymore than he had to.

“You too Y/N, and hey, maybe try something new?” You gave him a lazy nod and, seemingly content with that, Peter walked out of the cafe. The moment his form disappeared, you let your little smile drop. He was right, you should try something new, but you wanted to do so with Peter. Any memory worth making would have him in it.

But, the drive to not disappoint him picked you up from your seat. You walked over to the counter of the coffee shop where an overwhelming array of brewing machines and smells invaded your senses. Luckily, Ms. Ferguson, the shop owner, wasn’t working the front. Instead a younger girl stood, waiting to help you with your order.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” When she smiled, her lip ring slanted to the side in a way that made you wonder if it was poking the inside of her mouth uncomfortably.

“Uh..what do you recommend?”

“Well we have a new white-chocolate latte that’s pretty good, but, personally, I like the hot, peach-ginger tea.” You snuffed the cringe that threatened to crawl it’s way on your features and nodded at the pink-haired girl. It was something new.

“I’ll take the tea then,” you replied and began to pull out your wallet.

“Will that be all?” You glanced into the display case until your eyes found the strangest pastry within: a pistachio and rose scone. It was definitely something new.

“And I’ll take one of those.” With a kind smile, the girl picked out the oddly flavored scone and set it on a plate. “Thanks.”

Hours later, the same scone sat on that same plate as you flipped idly through the pages of your textbook. However, there was no tea left to run cold. In the later evening, the coffee shop was silent. The brightly colored girl that had helped you at the counter was gone, replaced by a tired looking college student.

His perpetual frown had made its way on your own face, your lips downturned as your eyes danced along the page. Your mouth would move every now and then, form the question then the answer in the hopes it would better stick in your memory. Yet nothing seemed to keep you focused. Every few seconds, your mind would drift to thoughts of Peter only to scramble, steady your eyes back on the pages opened before you.

After a few more minutes of battling with the content of your intrusive thoughts, you felt a new war begin. Tired eyes began to droop and your neck ached in the angle you been holding it at since you had began studying. Sleep had begun to drag you into its depths, threatened to drown you in a silent escape from your mind. Before you gave in and let your head fall to the cold surface of the table, you hurriedly packed up your things.

Lazily, you shoved your books back into your bag overcome with the haze of tiredness. You were so captured by the feeling that you nearly tipped over as you threw your book bag over your shoulder. However, the weight of the books was nothing compared to the heft of your muddled feelings towards Peter.

Due to the slightly longer walk from the coffee shop back home, you were able to reflect on the confusion such emotions had left you in. You were...friends now, so it seemed. Thanks to his unwavering kindness, you had been able to let go of your misgivings but some piece of you still screamed at you: you can’t like Peter Parker. You liked him, there was no hiding that, but you couldn’t like him. Yet, with each step, it became more clear that you did.

When your apartment complex came into sight, you were flooded with relief. You were a street width away from the swaddled comfort of your own bed. With your mind solely focused on the image of your bed, all warm and inviting in the quiet of the apartment, you stepped out onto the road. Between your hunger for comfort and the still-clinging lures of sleep, your senses were horribly dulled.

So dulled in fact, that you didn’t notice the car that drove towards until you heard the roar of its engine rushing towards you. One of it’s headlights was out, but it was still enough to pull your eyes towards it as you crossed the street. You felt your blood run as cold as the air around you but you were too frozen to shiver. Brief, fleeting moments flashed before your eyes, Peter’s face among them as the vehicle barreled towards you. A single ‘honk’ reached your ears and suddenly, with eyes closed, you felt weightless.

The physics of a car crash evaded you in the moment but you were either pushed or pulled backwards. Some soft fabric of your clothes licked gently at your skin as you propelled back and up into the air. Not an inch of pain had rattled your form which was now numbed to the bitter Autumn chill. The dark behind your eyelids welcomed you, the air hugged you tight, and you gave greeting to the end. Only, after a second, you could find that you could still open your eyes.

City lights, from the distance you were at, looked more like fireflies. Little dancing speck of illumination as you rose above the tops of the buildings across the street from your apartment complex. Terror, sudden and piercing washed over you, sent numbness through your limbs that could only be felt in a scream.

“I got you! I got you!” The street outside your apartment complex shrank as you were pulled up and up and up. Suddenly you were upside down, pushed by the sharp breeze as you cried out. Hopeful hands grasped at only at the air around you, nothing to halt your unexpected flight. Before you dared to glance at whatever winged beast had come to your rescue, you feet brushed against solid ground.

“What the f-”

“You’re okay, Y/N! You’re okay!” Large, almost diamond shaped, white eyes invaded your vision. The familiar splashes of red and blue detailing Spiderman’s suit pulled you back, quite literally, into the world of the living.

“You? You again?” The mask’s eyes almost seemed to squint at you and Spiderman’s head cocked to the side.

“You’re not happy to see me? That’s not normally the response I get,” he quipped. Your legs gave way and you sat soundly on the ground. Only it wasn’t the ground; the scratching surface of the apartment complex’s roof on your legs. As you sat, Spiderman darted towards you, hands holding you steady as you took a seat.

“Whenever you’re nearby some is on the verge of death and for the past few days, it has happened to be me.”

“Well, you didn’t die this time,” he said and sat at your side. “I’ll always catch you...or pick you up, I guess.”

You laid your head in your hands in an attempt to calm your still rattled nerves. “Ha, yeah, you guess.”

A moment of silence passed as you collected yourself. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the image of the single headlight still glowed when you closed your eyes. As you opened your eyes, to avoid the daunting sight, you felt a rubbing motion against your back. Spiderman’s hand soothed calming motions into the fabric of your sweatshirt in an entirely human gesture.

“Th-Thanks,” you murmured and met the masks eyes.

“You’r-You’re welcome.” Another moment of silence and you rested your hand at your side. Your fingers brushed the outline of your phone, tucked safely in your pocket and you thought of Peter once more.

“Shit, I have to call someone,” you muttered as you heaved yourself to your feet. Spiderman followed the motion and you realized what you said. “Not about you, just...my friend...I need to tell him I left, that I made it home. Pete-”

“No!” Spiderman raised his hands at you as you pulled your phone from your pocket. You glanced at the suit-clad figure and quirked a brow. “I mean...I got your letter!”

“You...you did,” you breathed out and slipped your phone back into your pocket.

“Y-Yeah I-“ he cleared his throat and, in a deeper voice, he continued. “It was uh, sweet and I uh…”

“Sweet?” You had to bite back the scoff that threatened to crawl up and out your throat.

“I mean, the fact you wrote it in the first place, I-I ...hold on.” Before you could even blink, a shot of white web whizzed by your ear and when you looked to see where it landed, you only saw a shadow.

“What do you-” The spot where Spiderman once stood was now empty.

“I’ll be right back!” A boyish shout caught your attention and you shuffled your feet as you waited. The wind was more powerful as you stood on the roof, the chill more intense. Numbly, your fingers itched for your phone and traced the outline of your phone in your pocket. You wanted to tell Peter about Spiderman, about everything about how, for the second time within a manner of weeks, you had almost tasted death again. Most of all, you wanted to tell him how you felt even if the contents of those feelings still puzzled you.

You were a few seconds away from texting him, to tell him everything. Luckily, Spiderman was true to his word and was back, standing before you with a piece of paper gripped tightly in his gloved hand that stole all of your attention.

“I was going to uh, leave this at your window but...here.” He lifted his hand, the piece of paper held out towards you to take. Spiderman cleared his throat as you took the slip of lined notebook paper from him. It seemed that even superheroes had a need for the most mundane office supplies.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you stammered out. You met the angular form of the masked man before you and you couldn’t stop the question that spilled off your tongue. “I didn’t ask in the letter but...what were you doing in Chicago? It felt ...”

“Yeah, odd for me-” he coughed and with the same low voice as before continued. “I was thinking about a change of scenery. New York has just so many other superheroes y-ya know?”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, but even with the mask covering the mystery man’s face, you can feel the anxiety emanating from his form. Try something new, Peter had told you. Sharing banter with a superhero certainly felt new enough. “I just thought you liked me.”

Spiderman let out an eerily familiar, nervous laugh in an attempt to hide the widening of the white eyes of his suit. “Well, that too.”

“Oh,” you replied as you hadn’t expected a true answer, let alone an answer in his ‘normal’ voice. You bit your lip and turned your gaze to your feet. The space between you and the neighborhood web-slinger grew thick. The chords between you, the ties of fate that tied you close were pulled taut.

“Ha, yeah, uh, I better be going.” His voice lowered again, almost comically so, “got to fight some crime.”

“Okay, yeah,” your murmured, “stay safe.” You watched as Spiderman walked backwards towards the edge of the roof. He gave you a thumbs up and despite not seeing his face, you could feel the frown masked beneath the fabric.

“I could say the same for you!” You smiled at his effort to diffuse the rigidity but as soon as Spiderman webbed away, you let your lips fall. When you curled your hand, you began to accidentally crumpled the crisp edges of the paper.

A renewed sense of curiosity, the drive to know that had thrust you into the world of academics, overwhelmed you. With slightly panicked hands, you unfolded the paper. Scrawled in a childish font was your name and a greeting.

Y/N,

You’re very welcome, for the rescue. I’m just glad I was there that day. Stay amazing.

-Spiderman

P.s. The person behind the mask ...I like that.

You smiled, but not because you had received a note from Spiderman. No, you smiled because your free hand reached for your phone, still tucked away in it’s pocket-sized sleeping bag. Smiled as you pulled up Peter’s contact and sent him a text.

YOU: Pete, I left the coffee shop so don’t bother swinging by, but I saw him!

When he didn’t respond, you made your way to the door that lead into the apartment. The metal of the door knob was bone chilling as your fingers wrapped around it. The damp warmth of the complex hit you right in the face, the stench of wet newspaper that mingled with stale cat urine was wholly unwelcoming. Yet, you made your way down the flight of stairs.

When you reached your floor, with the overhead lights flickering, you sighed with bittersweet relief. Your being ached with fatigue of coming down off of adrenaline. A single text ping broke through your zombie haze as you unlocked your apartment door.

PETER: sorry, got caught up. saw who?

YOU: Spiderman! He gave me a note

PETER: oh really! cool ha

YOU: I’ll tell you about it tomorrow

PETER: alright, good night Y/N :)

You smiled again, the lightest of smiles that had ever graced your features. Charm that once infuriated you brought warmth to your cheeks and set your wrecked nerves at ease. Just the comfort of having Peter to talk to made you giddy. What was his secret?

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