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just-another-romantic · 3 years

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Shambles of Memories

Chapter One : The Beginning Before Her Knowledge

Soulmate AU : Your dreams are your soulmate’s memories.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader/OC, Winter Soldier x Reader/OC

Series Summary : Cold, darkness, and iron doors. All Morana Pierce has known all of her life. Her duty, as head nurse to the infamous Winter Soldier, is her only occupation at a compound in the middle of a Siberian tundra. The Asset looks familiar, and feels like home to her. And she makes him remember things he’s not supposed to know. And neither of them can figure out why.

Warnings : Nightmares, mentions of blood and guns, drugging, kidnapping, brainwashing, sad Bucky

Author’s Note : This series is incredibly dark - I truly believe this is a level of evil HYDRA would succumb to. Please read this with caution.

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April of 1994, Queens, New York

Heavy boots thudded on the marble floors of the palace, the pace in his step matching the echoing of her racing heart. In her subconsciousness, the young girl wondered why it was always him in her dreams, why was she always looking from the perspective of a man?

He looked down at his hands, one leather gloved and one a stunning metallic material, one grasping the hand guard liner and one’s thumb hanging above the trigger of his rifle, ready to fire at the drop of a dime. Why was it always guns? She barely understood what those were.

He rounded a corner and suddenly, shots were ringing out from every part of the room. There was blood splattered on the wall, the dark red contrasting almost beautifully with the white walls. Someone was screaming, it was so loud it was echoing off of the walls. It was so loud, it was echoing in her head.

A young girl, no older than five, woke up in a sweat. She sat straight up in her bed, the Disney princess blanket thrown off of her in haste. Someone was still screaming, and it took her parents barging into her room with looks of fear and concern for her to realize it was her. Her father took her by the shoulders, pulling her into his lap in an attempt to soothe the wailing child. “Shhh, baby. It’s okay now. Daddy’s got you. Momma’s got you.” The murmurs fell upon deaf ears, as the little girl clutched to her father’s sleep shirt, sobbing.

No amount of reassrring words or bedtime stories or lullabies could quiet her. when asked what the nightmare was about this time, the little girl just shook her head, mumbling something about death and guns and a dark man and blood, so much blood. She collapsed back into her father’s arms, soaking his shirt with her tears.

The parents stayed with their distressed daughter til she managed to fall asleep once more, by that time, the sun was already peeking over the edge of the horizon. The wife made a beeline to the living room, her husband following as she dropped onto the couch in tears. He looked towards the grandfather clock that sat in the corner of the room, next to the bookshelves, and sighed at the time. 5:06 in the morning - the would have to call into work again today, seeing as they only got, at most, four hours of sleep. He wiped the tears and sleep from his eyes, before joining his wife on the sofa, reaching a tentative hand out to touch her knee.

After a moment, she looked up at him, their eyes meeting. “Ryan, what in God’s name do we do?” Her voice was bewildered and desperate, but he had no clue as for an answer. When he didn’t respond, she continued, “I-I don’t remember having nightmares... especially like those... from you when I was young...Did you?”

Ryan winced, shaking his head. “No. No, no, I had perfectly average dreams because you have perfectly average memories.” He pinched his nose, drawing a blank in what to say. “Who...what..w-who is he? H-How does any of what she says make sense, Beth?”

Beth reached over to the coffee table in front of them, grabbing the drawings their daughter had provided, the stacks sitting beside two empty coffee mugs. It was almost funny, how the graphic scenes displayed were scribbled onto the paper in an array of blues, yellows, and bright pinks. But certain images they could point out easily - a blood covered wall, a stick figure holding a gun, a man missing an arm, a man with a silver arm while his other and the rest of his body was drawn in a simple black.

Ryan turned away from his wife, already knowing what was on the paper, not wanting to see those images again - they were already burned into his brain. “Bethany -”

“He’s a full grown criminal!”

“That’s impossible!”

“Not really -”

“No Beth!” His voice had risen to a shout now. “You really think our daughter is destined to be with - with a criminal! A criminal with a good twenty years on her, at least!”

“That’s the only explanation! No one dreams random dreams, they’re all memories of who we are supposed to end up with.”

Ryan stood and began pacing across the living room floor. His arms crossed, red blossoming on his cheeks and neck from rage. “She won’t! I’m not gonna let her! We’re not gonna let her! These nightmares have already corrupted her enough, who knows what he would do to her!” His voice was venomous, dripping in anger and frustration.

Bethany opened her mouth to retaliate, but quickly closed it, realizing he was right in this scenario. What mother would she be if she let her baby girl end up with a murderer, one who’s memories had already traumatized her?

The husband took a seat back on the sofa, hands clasped in his lap, and for many minutes, they sat in silence. Finally, Beth got up to go make a batch of coffee, only stopping to turn to Ryan one last time. “Ry, we need to help her.”

He could only nod in agreement.

May of 1994, Brooklyn, New York

The wife had confided in their neighbor, the elderly Mrs. Dugan, over a cup of coffee in the late weeks of April. “I just don’t know what to do,” she confessed, sitting on a beige sofa across from the elderly lady. Mrs. Dugan had lived in the Brooklyn area for the past fifty years; her husband, she explained, grew up in Queens, but they settled down in the area when her husband returned from the Second World War. Her home was cozy, the curtains drawn back to let sunlight in, and plants could be found throughout the house, fresh and green. The room the pair found themselves in was a little den area outside of the kitchen, smelling of dust and old books from the shelves of novels, untouched for years. Her husband, Timothy, was the reader of the family, she explained.

“Tim was a hoot, but the war did something to him,” Mrs. Dugan said, a sad smile matching the wistful look on her face.

“Mrs. Dugan-”

“Sally, dear. Call me Sally.”

Beth corrected herself, “Sally. I’m so sorry for your husband.”

Sally just smiled. “Don’t be dear. He would’ve done it all over again - nightmares, scars, and all - for this country.”

“How did you fare with the memories? My daughter...” she trailed off, unsure how to go about the sensitive topic, “...it’s difficult to explain.”

Sally Dugan sighed, sitting back in her recliner, and Beth watched as her neighbor glanced to the side table, where a the couple’s wedding portrait sat. “We didn’t talk about it a lot...Tim had a habit of keeping his emotions to himself...it wasn’t until maybe the early eighties that he noticed he wasn’t the one hurting. I too was being haunted by the same memories. We started seeing a therapist that year, and went monthly for almost five years up until Tim passed in 1989.”

“Do you think that therapist is still working? I don’t know what’s happening, but I know my daughter needs help. My baby girl wakes up every night screaming from a nightmare-” a choked sob escaped her throat before she could stop it. “Oh my God, I don’t know what to do!” Beth clasped a hand over her mouth to quiet her cries, her other hand shaking as she put the delicate mug on the ground by her feet, not trusting herself with the hot beverage in this state.

Sally didn’t know what to say. She only quickly got up and took a seat next to the weeping mother on the couch, pulling her into her arms for a hug. The young woman was thankful for the comfort, and tucked her head into the crook of Sally’s neck, and the old lady brought a hand to the young woman’s hair, petting it in soothing strokes. When the sobs turned to soft whimpers, then she spoke, “Her name was Eliza Orvlo. I’ll give you her number. Get your baby girl the help she deserves.”

By that time next week, Beth found herself sitting in the waiting room outside of Orvlo’s office, her daughter in the seat next to her, a tight hold on her favorite plushie as she nursed her thumb in a vain attempt to calm herself down. The smell of rubbing alcohol lingered in the air, and with no draft from AC, it was stagnant and stuffy. LED bright lights glared down from the ceiling, sending a sickly gleam throughout the area. It was suffocating. The woman tried to keep herself occupied by reading the newspaper, something about the young Anthony Stark rising into fame, but every few seconds, the words blurred as her mind trailed off. Her mind ached from lack of sleep, and somehow the couches outside were the coziest thing she had rested on all weak, it was easy to succumb to daydreaming back to the days were everything was okay.

She had never been overly religious, but her parent’s raised her in a small Baptist church, and in the depth of her chest, she closed her eyes and prayed. For her daughter to be safe and grow up healthy and strong. For her nightmares to go away. For all of the things happening to her family to go away as fast as they came. For the first time in ages, Beth prayed for answers.

She maybe had been staring off for about five minutes until a soft voice calling her last name pulled her back to reality. Her head shot up and was met with a woman peeking from behind the door of Orvlo’s office, a wide smile and ginger hair pulled back into a perfect bun. “Hi,” she greeted enthusiastically. “I’m Doctor Orvlo! You must be-”

“Beth L/n.” Beth rose from her seat, offering her hand to the psychiatrist, knowing well enough that this woman might be her daughter’s last hope.

Orvlo smiled, shaking the mother’s hand before fixing her eyes on the little figure hiding behind Beth’s legs. Kneeling down to meet the little one’s eyes, she said, “Why, hello there, sweetheart!”

“Hello,” came a sweet, yet timid voice.

Beth took a hold of her daughter’s hand, pulling her from behind her pants. The young girl obliged, but her hold on her stuffed bear tightened; she was a sweet-looking thing, dressed in a green, floral sundress and little white sandals. “Can you tell Doctor Orvlo your name, precious?”

“Y/n,” she said, and Doctor Orvlo’s lips turned up into a smile.

“What a beautiful name for such a beautiful girl! Please, do come inside!”

Orvlo’s office looked just as professional as her persona - mahogany desk with a leather office chair facing the door, away from the window, two matching cushioned chair’s in front. Beth took a seat, guiding the five year old into the one next to her, and took the chance to analyze the doctor while she busied herself around the room. Eliza Orvlo was a beautiful businesswoman, hair without a misplaced piece, glasses perched on an upturned nose, hiding her green eyes. The way she was put together, in a matching blazer and skirt and pristine office, intimidated Beth a bit. She was taking a day off to get Y/n to therapy, and the loose fitting jeans and T-shirt wasn’t that different from the scrubs she wore at the hospital.

The psychiatrist’s voice broke her trance. “So, mom,” she said, taking a seat in the office chair, folding her hands on the table, “tell me what’s happening, in your own words before I get started with your daughter.”

And Beth did. She explained everything, from beginning to end - her daughter’s screams when she woke up, the unhealthy amount of sleep she was getting, the terrible things she says with such innocence, unknowing of what it means. “I uh -” her voice was trembling slightly as she dug through the big pocket of her purse, finally pulling out a small stack of paper. “I brought some of the drawings she’s given me... I thought it might be of help.” With a gracious smile, Doctor Orvlo accepted the art she was handed, her breath nearly catching in her throat as her eyes fell on the first drawing.

The child’s art wasn’t magnificent in talent, but the picture drawn had an uncanny resemblance of something she had seen too many times before. Orvlo internally thanked any god there was that she had a PhD. in psychology, as she consciously fixed her body language, not to alert the already anxiety-ridden mother. Scribbled on the paper was a picture of a bright red book, a black star sitting proudly in the center of the cover.

Quickly, Eliza scanned through the rest of the stack, her suspicion confirmed in every picture she saw. A silver arm with a red star on the upper bicep. A tube with its glass doors open. Guns, shadows, scribbles of blood adorned the craft paper, and she knew her father would have her head for not reporting it as soon as possible. “These drawings are...” she was genuinely at a loss for words - she knew all too well what this meant.

“Gruesome?” Beth offered. “I know. Do you see how desperate I am. My poor baby is being haunted by the memories of a full grown criminal.” The two women’s eyes met, and the doctor could see that the mother was moments away from hysteria by the way her eyes watered.

Quickly, Orvlo leaned forward and grasped Beth’s hand in her own. “Don’t worry ma’am,” she said, plastering a smile on her face, “your daughter is in good hands.” A white lie, indeed.

Later that night, when the doctor returned home to her apartment, she quickly shed her heavy blazer and heels, dropping them in a pile by the coat rack, before padding over to her couch. Grabbing the phone from it’s place on the end table and dialing the all too familiar number, she began biting at the nail and flesh of her thumb as the phone rang. Moment’s later, a gruff Russian voice answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, Papa, it’s me,” Eliza greeted, ditching her New York accent and falling back into her mother tongue.

“My darling! Why are you calling now? It’s late there in New York.”

“Because I know you like to sleep until noon.”

There was a hearty chuckle on the other end of the line. “Yes, I do. But that’s not why you called, is it?”

By this time, Eliza had chewed off her whole thumb nail. “I have important information regarding the Asset.”

There was a long pause, and she could almost imagine her father taking a long drag of his cigar, the smoke mixing while his frosted breath in the frigid, Siberian air. “Obviously, it’s not good enough for you to call on the burner.”

“Damn it, fine.” She slammed the receiver back in the cradle of the rotary phone and shot up from her seat, making her way towards her bedroom. In the back of her closet, there was a set of three plastic drawers. There, in the bottom one, under stacks of extra t-shirts and socks, was a black flip phone that her father had given her before she left for America, specifically for an emergency use only. Eliza rang him again, and before her father could greet her properly, she spoke the second he heard him pick up, “Now will you listen?”

He chuckled, amused but intrigued, “What do you have for me, my dear Eliza?”

Eliza Orvlo just smirked.

November of 1994, Brooklyn, New York

The plan thus far had worked like a charm. Beth had been bringing her daughter to Orvlo for therapy - once, every two weeks, for six months - and Eliza believed she trusted her with the young girl. It was perfect; it was what they needed. Trust was a fatal human flaw, and they had it on their side.

At the same time, Eliza’s father had stationed her sister, Mary, to go undercover as Y/n’s babysitter about two months into the counseling sessions. Eliza thought the backup was unnecessary as she had the situation under control. Abram Orvlo, on the other hand, insisted this extraction mission required as many hands-on as possible. The Orvlo family couldn’t risk another mess up with HYDRA, this mission was their last chance at getting on firm ground with Pierce.

The crisp autumn air settled over the bustling city, and the townspeople welcomed the bitter cold that came with it. Even little Y/n. Within the first few days of November, the young girl began the time consuming task of writing out her extensive Christmas list, adding on five things almost every day. And now, as she sat outside waiting for her nanny to come pick her up from school, she decided that she would add at the very, tippy top of the list, “PUPPY”. Her friend, a fellow kindergartner, Dorthy, had just gotten a puppy for her birthday.

“She’s really sweet,” Dorthy exclaimed, as they waited outside, watching the carpool line, “she likes to lick people a lot.” Their little legs swung back on forth, dangling off of the bench they sat on.

“Lick?” Y/n was confused. “You lick a lollipop...not people!”

“Yea! She’s just giving you kisses!” Dorthy giggled, her bright red curls bouncing as she laughed.

A third voice called out from the parking lot, “Y/n! C’mon, it’s time to go! We’ve got a busy day ahead of us, pumpkin!”

The smile that bloomed on the little girls face could’ve beat sunshine - she smiled that bright. “Miss Marlin!” She exclaimed, quickly hopping off of her seat, grabbing her backpack and stuffed teddy, bolting towards the white SUV. Before she opened the door to the back seat, she turned and yelled a goodbye to Dorthy, then disappearing into the car.

The girl climbed into her car seat, buckling herself in and situating herself before she realized it wasn’t just her and Miss Mary in the car - another lady sat up front in the passenger seat. The woman turned back to look at her, smiling. “Hey there, Miss Y/n!”

The five year old’s eyes widened in recognition, “Miss Orv’no? What are you doing here?”

Mary faked a gasp, keeping her eyes on the road as they drove away from the elementary school. “Did Miss Eliza not tell you that we’re sisters?”

Y/n glanced in between the two women. They definetly shared similarities - the same high cheekbones, freckled nose, and set of eyes. The only difference was the hair, Eliza’s was red and Mary’s was raven black. Still, Doctor Orvlo never mentioned a sister. “No,” she responded simply. “Are you coming back to my house with us?”

Eliza chuckled, and the innocent child missed the malice behind her laughter. “No, sweet girl. We have a couple errands to run before we go home. But first...how does McDonalds sound?”

Y/n brightened, excited at the prospect of a treat. She then went on, in great detail, about how her day went, what games she played, the math sheet she had for homework, and Dorthy’s puppy.

They pulled through the Drive Thru, and were sure to slip the pill into the girl’s lemonade before handing the cup and Kids meal back to her.

The pill was small and simple, dissolving in the beverage in a little under thirty seconds. Y/n didn’t taste a difference as she sipped on her drink, she only felt herself grow tired. Within minutes, her form slumped, head leaned against the window, fast asleep.

Seeing the subject knocked out, Eliza dug through her purse, contacting her father through the burner phone again.

The same gruff voice as always answered, “Taken care of, I presume?” He was rushed, his voice sounded stressed.

“Subject is out, phase three of mission complete. Five minutes out from the airport,” said Eliza.

The voice on the other side simply said, “See you soon.” The line went dead.

The little girl slept for the remainder of the car drive, and through the entire flight, twelve hours in total. In fact, Y/n didn’t awake until they arrived at the base, her first sight the blizzard outside from her car window. As she blinked the sleep from her eyes, felt herself lifted into a pair of arms from the backseat, a heavy blanket draped over her in the process. The arms were strong, and gentle as she was carried, for a slip second, she thought it was her dad. But when her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, she was met with the sight of an unfamiliar man.

He was dressed in a heavy, black coat, fur lining peeking out from the hood, and a thick fleece scarf wrapped around his neck. But Y/n could make out deep brown eyes, wrinkled with age and bruised from lack of sleep. His hair was white, as was his beard, and rectangular-framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. There were numerous voices she heard above the howling wind, talking in a language she didn’t recognize. They were mainly masculine, perhaps one female in the group, and the talking was slurred, as if in a rush or agitated.

In this moment, the first sense of clarity came to the little girl, fatigue no longer clouding her mind. The environment surrounding her was a snowy field, the metal house, encased in rocks like a man made cave, stood as the only landmark. There were no signs of life for miles. Y/n realized she had no clue as to where she was or who she was with. At first, she was curious, but that feeling was immediately over powered with the sense of unease.

“Miss Orv’no?” she mumbled, her voice slightly muffled by the thick quilt she was wrapped in. The man looked down at her, his sharp gaze softening. “Hello, little one,” he spoke, soft, and his accent thick. “You must be asking for my daughter, she’s back behind us, talking to a friend of hers.”

“Where’s my daddy?”

Mister Orvlo chuckled, replying, “Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re meeting him inside now!” The little girl couldn’t do anything but trust him.

The metal doors opened with a hiss, and he crossed the threshold, warmth immediately enveloping the little girl in a wave. She couldn’t see the people behind her and the man, but the whole group made their way down a long hallway, making several turns. The place was built like a maze, the paths winding like a snake. Several flights of stairs were taken until they reached the final level below ground. The walls and ceiling were concrete, the only hallway lit by florescent lights, casting an eerie, nearly nightmarish, glare across the place. The hallway lead to a pair of metal doors, sealed, and made to withstand bullets. Y/n couldn’t tell if it was to keep people out, or to keep any terror that was behind those doors within. Either way, her little heart filled with dread.

Eliza reached behind her father, punching in the code to the keypad mounted to the wall beside the door. “Miss Orv’no?” Y/n murmured, happy to see a familiar face but still scared nevertheless.

The woman flashed her a smile, as sly as a fox. “Hey there.”

Before the little girl could respond, the doors opened with a loud creak, and inside there were many men in white lab coats, a handful in military uniforms as well.

Only one stood out among the masses. He stood at attention in the middle of the room, the tanned skin of his chest distinctive against the white and brown and black of the jacketed men in the room. Black hair brushed his shoulders, and blue eyes stared blankly ahead. The most recognizable feature of his was his left arm, a shinning silver under the lights of the laboratory. His presence was intimidating to the little girl, and seemingly to everyone else in the room. People were wary of him, never standing within arms reach of the man.

Heads shot up as the group passed through the door, and Mister Orvlo gently set Y/n down on her feet in front of him, the blanket falling around her feet, but her hands clung still to her stuffed bear. A doctor in the middle of the lab smiled at her, the bed ridden hair and bright pink dress too adorable for words. His skin was freckled and blotchy from sun damage, and his blond hair held grey tuffs in it. Y/n figured he looked friendly enough.

He slowly approached her, as if not to scare the little thing, and knelt down to her level, and she met his hazel eyes, framed by the lenses of glasses, and he gave her a kind look. She welcomed the warmth of it, as everything she knew of right now was cold and bore harsh edges “Hey there. My name is Alexander Pierce, and you must be Y/n.” His voice was soft and low, and a part of the little girl’s mind wanted to trust him.

But something in her gut told her not to. “How do you know my name?”

This question elicited a chuckle from Pierce. “I know a lot about you, young missy,” he said, straightening his coat a bit. “You are a very special girl,Y/n, we need your help with something. Can you help us?”

Y/n’s eyes flitted around the room, observing each harsh face that stared expectantly at her, but found none she could recognize. Ignoring the man’s question, she asked one of her own, “Where’s my momma and daddy?”

“They’re late,” Pierce stated simply, though it was a fib. Her parents had no clue where she was, and had no intention of making a trip down to Siberia anytime soon. “But, they’ll be joining us in a little while. However, the issue we have is really bad, and we need your help now, if possible.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed, and she crossed her arm in refusal. If it wasn’t for her young age, the glare she was giving the man would’ve been intimidating. “I’m not doing anything without my family.”

Pierce faked a sad look. “You wouldn’t even help your soulmate?”

The glare the girl was giving dropped. She vaguely recognized that word - it was one her parent’s threw around a lot at home regarding her nightmares, but she never understood what it meant. A soulmate was someone who you’re supposed to love, she knew that much, and that recognition was all that mattered to the handlers.

Pierce, seeing her falter, stood up and beckoned at a few men behind her, yelling over his shoulder, “Soldier!”

On that cue, two soldiers marched over to the man with the silver arm, and aggressively shoved him towards Pierce. The man seemed to be used to being thrown around like a ragdoll, as he quickly found his footing and stood in a submissive stance in front of Mr. Pierce. When he spoke, in a language the little girl had yet to understand, it was monotone and lacking in both volume and emotion. “Ready to comply.”

Pierce spoke quietly to the Asset, in English but in a hushed tone so Y/n wouldn’t hear. “We’re putting the girl in the chair,” he said simply, as if the soldier would understand.

But he didn’t, or if he did, he didn’t show it. “Why?”

“Because...” the HYDRA agent searched for a word that would fit this delicate situation, knowing a slip could possibly send the Asset into a tantrum. “Because, she’s a danger to this program. So instead of her being a danger to us, we are going to make her one of us.”

The Asset stared blankly at him, if he was capable of emotions, he’d be sporting a look of confusion on his face. “What is my mission, sir?”

Pierce snorted in laughter, clapping a hand on the Winter Soldier’s right shoulder, not noticing how he flinched at the movement. “Your mission is to comfort her, Soldier. We can’t just drag her to the chair, that would be inhuman.” He paused, glancing back at the girl, then back to the blank canvas of a man in front of him, “Care for her, she should naturally feel drawn to you, if our research is correct.” Without another word, Alexander Pierce took a step back, giving the middle of the room solely to the Winter Soldier and the one thing that might hold complete control to him, his soulmate.

The entire room watched as the soldier walked towards Y/n, holding their breath as he knelt at her feet, still towering over her in height.

The soldier didn’t understand what his handler met by comforting her. Somewhere, in the depth of his mind, he knew what the word meant, but he didn’t know how to act about it. HYDRA had conditioned him into a soulless, killing machine - all he knew of was bloody knives and suffocating smoke. But he saw how she was shaking like a leaf, the terror hiding behind her eyes, and the last bit of his past self felt sorry for her - that she was here, that she was destined to to same fate as himself.

His steel blue eyes met hers, and Y/n’s stomach settled a bit. A part of herself recognized him - knew him, even. Her gut was telling her to trust him, so she took a leap and did just that. “Hello,” she greeted him. She cocked her head slightly, looking at him in curiosity instead of the terror she felt when all eyes in the room where on her.

A part of the soldier was taken aback at how sweet her voice was - high in pitch, innocent, and kind. He gathered himself, scoping out what to say and how he should act; she was his mission, after all.

It was so quiet in the room, you could hear a pin drop. The world seemed to stop turning, anticipating what this man, death in human form, would say.

Finally, he managed, “Hello.”

Collectively, everyone in the room released the breath they had been holding. Pierce’s fist pumped at the air at this first step towards success.

The little girl’s lips twitched up slightly. “My name is Y/n, what’s yours?”

He swallowed, unsure. “Asset,” he decided on. It was the only name he had known for as far back as his memories went, which was scarce.

“Asset,” Y/n repeated, her tongue fumbling on the consonates of it, resulting in a bit of a lisp when she said. His heart tugged in his chest at it; it reminded him of something, a memory far in the past, but it was blurry. Deciding not to dwell on it, he watched as the girl seemingly sized him up, suddenly reaching for his metal arm.

Gently, she took the vibranium hand into both of hers, the metal large and bulky and cold against the warmth of her palms. She turned it over and over in her hands, watching in awe as the metal plates whirred and clicked into place. Y/n looked at him incredulously. “Is this real?”

The Asset nodded, scared to speak at the thought of frightening her. No one had handled him with care before. She didn’t see the metal arm as an omen of death, and his heart ached at her naivety.

Now she was comparing their hand sizes, her entire hand fitting in the center of his palm. “How’d ya get it?” Her question was asked absentmindedly - was more content just investigating how it worked.

“I lost my real one,” said the Asset, looking at how she traces the patterns in the platting, “and these people gave me this one as a replacement.” Y/n nodded, still distracted by his arm. A feeling dug into his side, and he asked a question before he could stop himself, “Are you not scared of it?”

The girl scrunched her nose, shaking her head, her hair falling over her shoulders. “I think it’s cool, it’s different.”

“Some people think that differences are a bad thing.” He pulled his hand away, but the girls grasp remained. She quickly grabbed his real hand, holding both now, and looked at the differences as well as comparisons. The Asset didn’t realize what she was doing until it already happened. Y/n lifted his flesh hand to her mouth, pressing a quick kiss to its palm, before doing so with the other one.

Watching this exchange, one of the handlers turned to Pierce. “Sir?” He asked. Only when there was a hum in response did he continue, “With all due respect sir, are we sure this is a good idea?”

“Oh yeah, it’s fine,” Pierce answered, brushing the man off. “We’re wiping them both after this is done.”

There was a beat of silence. “Then...then what’s the point in bringing her here, sir?”

“So she doesn’t grow up to realize who her soulmate is and who he’s working for. We raise her here, away from the world and biased opinions, sheltered - and that way we take away whatever advantage she might have on us.”

The handler’s eyes widened, catching on to his boss’ idea. “And then we turn her around and use her to our advantage over him and S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Precisely.”

Pierce cleared his throat, catching the Asset’s attention, and discretely nodded his head towards the back of the room. The soldier gulped, knowing exactly what he was expecting of him and exactly what this little girl’s destiny was.

To be broken, her soul torn apart at the seems until she was no longer human. Her fate was to be conditioned into the shell of who she once was, and what was left of her remains was to be a puppet for HYDRA. Her fate was the same as his, and he couldn’t bare the thought of it.

But he didn’t fight it. He just watched as one of the female handlers coaxed her down in the leather chair and hooked her up to the heart monitor and other machines, disregarding as the girl flailed her limbs in protest to her restraints. He didn’t budge as she started crying, calling out for her parents, who would never come to save her. The soldier just complied to what he was conditioned to do, disregard his emotions - the little bursts he had of them - and complete his mission; Y/n was his mission. Even if he hated himself for it.

The only sign of his understanding to the situation was when she called out to him, her tiny voice cracking from the hiccuped sobs. “Asset,” she wailed. “Asset, help! Help me!” He winced, the motion so slight only Pierce, who was standing behind him, caught it.

“Don’t worry, son,” he whispered, his breath direct into his ear, “she won’t remember a damn thing.”

The clasps were placed on Y/n’s little head, so big on her they encased her whole face, they were made for a grown man, not an innocent child. A bite was forced in between her teeth. With the flip of a switch, her brain was shot with hundreds of bolts of electricity, scrambling her brain, and effectively turning the girl she once was to dust. Her screams bounced off of the walls, and the silence when the machine turned off was deafening.

For an entire minute, the Asset only heard the blood rushing in his ears, his head swimming as the beeping on the heart monitor grew slower and slower. Why didn’t he stop them? Why didn’t he protect her? A wave of nausea hit him as one thought stayed present on his mind - why did he want to protect her?

Everyone filed out quickly as Pierce directed them, the Asset grabbed by the arms and escorted out before he had the chance to retaliate. He didn’t, though something in the depths of him screamed at him to help the girl. He took one last glance at her - her slumped form in the seat, scarce breathing, the sweat and snot dripping down her face - and exited the double doors with his guards.

The only people left in the room were Pierce and Eliza, who worked quickly to get Y/n hooked up to various IVs and situated in a small bed they had set aside nearby. Her little arms were poked with needles, various substances entering her blood stream, and an oxygen mask was placed over her mouth and nose, begging exhausted lungs to breathe once more.

Neither one of the adults were concerned with her state, it was just a matter of what she would remember. If she would remember. Eliza hummed a Russian lullaby, as to soothe the already sleeping girl back to slumber, while Pierce situated himself in an armchair by her side; the pair was in for a long night.

Long it was, the wait for her precious eyes to open again. It was eight the next morning when she finally woke, groaning and asking for her father. This was Pierce’s chance.

Quickly, he got up from his chair and was by her side in two long strides. Shushing her, his large hand went to her hair, and stroked it, his thumb tracing a pattern on her temple. “Hey there,” he whispered, his smile tired but genuine. “It’s me, it’s Papa. You’re safe, honey. You’re safe.”

The little girl’s eyes flickered around the room, taking in the sight of her father, the fluorescent lighting, the IV drip connected to her arms. She had no clue as to where she was, but man’s face above her was kind and reassuring. “Papa?” Her throat was dry, talking felt like sandpaper.

“I’m here. It’s me.” She welcomed his gruff voice - in a world where she didn’t recognize a single thing, she had nothing - no one - else to trust.

Eliza, who was watching from a distance, silently pumped her fists in victory. “A new creation, a new day born in HYDRA,” she exclaimed in glee, catching Pierce’s attention.

“What should we call this little one?” He asked, not turning his eyes from the little girl in front of him, his hands still petting her hair. Her eyes were fluttering shut, fatigue overtaking her mind once more.

“Morana,” Eliza suggested, shrugging when Pierce turned around and cocked an eyebrow at her. “She was a Slavic goddess of winter, death, and rebirth...seems fitting for her to be the rebirth of the fist of Hydra.”

The Orvlo woman came to the man’s side, laying a hand on his shoulder as she watched the little girl sleep. “She’s beautiful. Strong. Dark,” she paused, leaning over to brush a stray hair from the girl’s face, the sweat clinging to her brow. “And deadly.”

“Like her soulmate?”

“Yes.”

Pierce stood from his seat, fixing his sleeve that had fallen down from the roll in his elbow. He smiled. “Morana.”

- taglist (open) -

@igothroughphasesalot

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thistle-01 · 3 years

Text

Just another CHCH idea // TW: passive death wish, aka suicidal ideation

Modern day AU where it wasn’t Harris village that was razed to the ground it was Choi Han’s entire family and because the fire was a freak accident, no one’s fault, CH falls deeper and deeper into himself, no outlet. He becomes severely depressed but can’t picture himself actively offing himself so he just trudges through each day, unable to die, unable to live.

He doesn’t care when the guy next door to his new place moves out.

Doesn't care when someone else moves in.

He does care when the muffled wails of a baby keep him from sleep for three nights in a row, and he bangs on the wall, sleep deprived and pissy.

After a moment the person on the other side of the wall bangs back, making Choi Han glare incredulously at the wall, but he decides to let it go.

New kid, new parent. He used to take care of his little cousins so he knows how difficult it can be. He remembers the colic, he remembers the spit ups and giggles and laughing as they sat around for dinne—

He realizes that the new guy moving in may affect him more than he initially realized.

Morning comes and goes and CH gets ready for work.

Before the fire he’d been planning to take up bodyguarding as an occupation, it seemed like it suited him, it felt right. Without the training which he couldn’t afford due to obvious reasons though no one would hire him, so he turned to gym training. He’s a personal trainer.

He fetches his bag and fetches his towels and he’s about to leave his apartment when there’s a ding on his intercom.

When he looks through the screen there’s a person who’s unfamiliar but he was gonna leave anyway so he just meets them at the door.

”What is it?”

The person looks surprised when he sees Choi Han standing there and CH knows it’s because he’s kind of tall and imposing.

He doesn’t do anything to make them more comfortable though, he’s on a timer, and the guy just stammers, makes him sign to receive a package which CH does bc again no time to argue that he hasn’t ordered anything.

It’s only at the gym that he finds a break to open the package, it’s addressed to him with his apartment number, no name. Inside he finds a fucking fruit basket and a note:

Should have written this earlier but I have a newborn. It may get loud. Apologies for the inconvenience.

TBC

- CH resigned to suffer through baby

- CH reliving his most painful memories again bc baby

- guy next door’s little gifts being about the only thing that keeps him from just upping and moving but some of the stuff he gets are damn nice and maybe sort of worth it? Maybe

- guy next door always attaching little notes to his gifts

- guy next door‘s notes sometimes being sarcastic and witty, and sometimes kind of rude but also funny

- CH replying to one and attaching it to guy next door’s door on a whim

- guy next door attaching a phone number to his next gift

- CH texting guy next door bc why not if he’s some kind of serial killer maybe he’ll—

- CH and guy next door exchanging texts

- texts starting off irregular, stilted, but eventually they increase without them even recognizing that they do because apparently they’re both lonely fucks who have no real friends but a lot on their chests

- guy next door still being guy next door, literally that’s the name attached to the contact in CH’s phone bc out of some silent agreement they still haven’t exchanged names

- CH telling guy next door about the fire

- guy next door telling CH about his family (they’re dead too, only his son left and even then he’s apparently adopted)

- CH having a bad day at work and seriously considering suicide. there had been multiple factors, but the worst was probably it being 5/5, children’s day and a bunch of families gathering in the park right in front of the gym. They looked happy. CH remembered being that happy.

- CH holding a knife in his hand and surrounded by alcohol but on a whim - he seems to have a lot of those - texting guy next door

- CH telling himself if guy next door doesn’t reply within the next twenty minutes it will be a sign but guy next door replying instantly

- CH calling guy

- “How’s your son?” “He’s fine?” “…remember to love him as much as possible.” “Is something wrong? You sound off,”

- CH gripping the knife in his hand

- CH letting go

- CH sobbing wetly into the phone with a call to the guy whose name he doesn’t even fucking know but somehow relying on him anyway. He doesn’t know how this happened. How did this happen?

- CH telling guy everything and after a loaded silence guy asking CH like he’s about to break, like he’s fragile, whether he wants to come over, in fact just do it I’ll be home soon

- CH numbly collecting himself and somehow dressing himself with minimal effort and opening the door to walk over to his place

- CH finding a man standing in front of the door next to his, who’s stunning through the tears in his eyes but he doesn’t care too much about that - does he? - because he feels so shitty

- guy, who’s apparently a slightly scarred but handsome enough to be a model type of guy, and despite CH expecting the same subtle pity and concern he’d heard over the phone, greeting him blandly and ordering CH to come in like he’s discussing a fucking history book

- guy being named KRS

- CH being named, well, CH

- CH marinating in his own depression after the shock of guy - no, KRS’s physical form has worn out

- KRS looking at him with an unidentifiable expression

- KRS appearing to think for a minute and then leaving the room and CH dimly hears him opening a door but he’s too spent to hear much more than that

- KRS returning and CH meaning to look up but before he can something warm and squirming and kind of squishy is plopped into his lap

- “this is the terror I told you about. Say hello Raon.”

- Raon being the cutest fucking baby CH has ever seen aside from his cousins and baby sibling

- Raon giggling and squealing with laughter and clutching CH like there isn’t a single good reason he shouldn’t trust CH when in about a second CH can list at least five

- CH being unable to do anything but curl his hands reflexively around warm baby because of said giggling and squealing and clutching

- CH mumbling his concern that baby is too open to strangers despite knowing that at this age it’s perfectly natural

- KRS replying that Raon is a better judge of character than him and wrapping something around CH’s shoulders before turning on a giant ass TV

- KRS and CH and a drooling happy Raon watching Disney movies

- CH unintentionally spending the night bc he fell asleep to Alice in wonderland songs and woke up smelling traditional Korean food and the tunes of soft jazz on a radio

- ”are you hungry?” and CH unable to pull away bc he’s still kind of fragile and tender feeling and the baby is thankfully gone now but nope he’s sitting in his high chair and there’s good food on a table and KRS is looking blandly at him with his good looks and invisible kindness and CH is only human

- CH leaving the next morning before KRS is awake but KRS pretending to sleep so he doesn‘t pressure him

- KRS thinking he’s really dodged a bullet, humans are so much work, he just wants to slack-

- CH going home and putting the knife still on the floor back into its shelf and cleaning his place top to bottom on a sudden urge to be productive

- KRS and CH going back to texts and an occasional phone call like before

- KRS and CH’s interactions being different from before though in that when Raon cries through the wall CH plays baby shark or soft jazz and baby’s cries turns to coos and KRS sends him another basket in the morning

- KRS and CH somehow seeing each other more often

- KRS and CH greeting each other on the elevator

- CH deciding to see a psychiatrist

- KRS driving him to his first appointment

- “have fun.” “this is supposed to be fun?” “For me it is, I finally get a break from you and your drama,” and CH seeing right through KRS and taking a chance and reaching over to squeeze KRS’s hand on the gear

- “thanks,” and KRS looking bland but with a twist of a smile as CH heads in and watching him go

- CH making progress

- CH taking antidepressants and settling down after a month and he doesn’t have relapses for a year and decides to finally put an end to the fragile push and pull he and KRS have been dancing around all this time

- CH inviting him over for dinner

- CH making all the preparations, smiling to himself at providing for KRS this time, excited kind of at the thought that he’s going to put That Smile on KRS’ face and the doorbell ringing

- CH saying hi and KRS looking at him with an unreadable expression for a second before there’s a warmth at his lips and then it’s gone

- “took you long enough,” and CH knows KRS doesn’t mean it bc he’s looking at him quietly and like he’s quietly proud and there’s a soft, reserved sort of affection lining his smile and CH just wants to hold him forever, never let go

- so he does

- over the years they have their ups and downs, with KRS’s own emotional baggage, and CH‘s depression, and Raon grows up and demands more siblings and they decide, yeah look it’s time to get hitched here’s the ring

- they live happily ever after

the end

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jadienjaystoriesandart · 4 years

Text

Summary: Where were they? Thomas found in the recent days he was so lonely. Where was Logan chiding him to get up? Where was Patton to try and get him to bake some cookies? Where was Janus telling him to remember to take care of himself? Where was Virgil, keeping him up at night only to fall asleep after wearing himself out? Where was Roman and the constant humming of Disney tunes? Where was Remus always popping up to scare him? Where were his sides? Why aren’t they here...? He needs them.

Author Note: This is a short one-shot after reading through @rondoel and her King AU thing. Hope you like it! It’s 7 in the morning, I haven’t slept and I wrote angst. (Sorry for any mistakes in grammar, I near failed that in school and in college.)

Warnings: Angst, Mild signs of Depression (possibly), feelings of abandonment, loneliness, fear of silence, mild panic attack, mild anxiety attack, Thomas really needs a hug guys.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Thomas looked at himself in the mirror and felt a weight on his shoulders he didn’t know he could feel. A weight of loneliness, of confusion, of feeling utterly lost, of longing. He finished brushing his teeth and sighed as he cleaned off his mouth and putting the brush away.

He turned out of the bathroom to his room to get ready for the day... sort of. He hadn’t been out anywhere in a few days. His friends called, but he couldn’t find the energy in him to answer the phone or text back. He just felt like the world was crushing on him, and couldn’t explain why.

No amount of self care helped, and he felt too much like dead weight to see if hanging out with his friends would help. He’s been like this for the past few weeks, after the latest episode to pin point it. Each day felt like a chore to get up and do anything.

At first, he tried to summon his sides, was something troubling him he didn’t know about? So he tried Patton, normally his Morality always managed to cheer him up and brighten his mood. But, as he called out, waved his hand, did both... nothing. Thomas was confused by that, normally his happy dad side was more than willing to come with called; sometimes he’d come without needing to be called at all.

Thomas did shrug it off, thinking maybe whatever troubled him might be troubling Patton also. Maybe it was connected to his feeling? Maybe the others are helping Patton? He’d check back later, he trusted his sides after all.

Then came a few days after that, Thomas found his work was suffering, he really needed to work on the next video. But he only found he’d just stare at his laptop, sometimes watch reruns of episodes. Getting no where, as pre usual. He was waiting for Logan to come scold him. Yet, nothing, the logical side was oddly silent even in his head.

No scolding, no arguing, just a foreboding silence. Thomas didn’t like that at all, he was always used to Logan speaking to him. Though the nerd could be a little much when it came to facts, he always knew Logan cared about him and only wanted the best. Thomas tried to listen, even if he couldn’t keep up, Logan cared and he cared back. Now though, why was Logan so quiet?

He tried to summon his logical side to find out. But like with Patton, calling his name, waving his hand, nothing worked. Were they ignoring him? Had he done something wrong? No... had he they normally told him.

Maybe this was a bigger issue than he thought? But shouldn’t he be involved? Thomas chewed his lower lip, he tried not to worry, that’d just upset Virgil, he knew his anxiety had enough to go around, he didn’t want to amplify it.

So he continued on as normal. Even if he felt sluggish and weak, couldn’t even bring himself to draw something or act out his favorite parts. Was Princey still mad at him? He really wanted to talk to Roman about what happened, but knew, like himself, Roman would want time to himself. But, Thomas was getting worried. Roman did know how much he was loved, right? Maybe Roman needed to hear it from the source?

So he turned to call out to Roman, as usual, nothing, no one, not a soul. He tried to call for Patton again, maybe he knew where Roman was? But Patton didn’t come again.

Thomas felt his chest seize up for a moment. Shakily he tried to call for Logan, he needed to calm down. No one came. He bit his lip, Virgil? His breath was hitching when he tried, by now Virgil would know something was wrong. So where was he?

He was shaking, where were they?

After that panic attack, Thomas in the coming days would try for Janus. But like he predicted, no one came to his call. Remus didn’t show up either, Thomas would take any sound, even his trash mans innuendos and constant stream of thoughts. But Remus didn’t come either, no matter how desperate Thomas’s voice got. No matter how many times he tried to apologize to the nothing, as if it’d bring them back.

The silence was deafening in the apartment.

He could often hear his own ears ringing. He was so used to his thoughts being so loud. He was used to listening to their conversations in his head. Thomas came to really enjoy the moments his sides were there. This was... just so hard.

Then came the true fear. Were they gone forever? Had he lost them forever? What if they were hurt? He was hyper ventilating now. The smell of mint on his breath from his toothpaste.

Thomas hugged his knees, trying to breath normally. He felt something wet, he looked at his knees to see water stains. Was he crying? Words died in his throat, no logic could make is way to his head. His feelings felt so skewered and messy. He had no drive to create, no drive to care anymore.

He must be sobbing, his throat was hurting from trying to hold them back. Why did he felt so abandoned? So lost? Thomas hated it, the only sound was his own sobs in the air.

“Where are you?” he found himself repeating, “Where are you? I need you guys! I want you guys here!” he found himself wailing out to the emptiness. As if that’ll bring them back.

“Please... Please...” he whispered over and over again.

He sat there on the ground, tears streaming down his face. The world was dark, where was the light? There was no way out.

“Where has everyone gone?”

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pikapikabishes · 4 years

Text

It's Okay Now(Kirishima x gn!Reader)

Disclaimer: all characters rightfully belong to their original creators, only thing that is mine is the plot. Also do not copy my writing. Thank you

Summary: Class 3A's Y/n was having a jolly day hanging out with the BakuSquad, including her amazing bf of over 6 months, Eijirou Kirishima, even with all the stress piling up, like a shaken soda bottle ready to burst, until said explosion finally happened. Triggered by the littlest, probably stupidest event

Warnings: anxiety (?), panic attacks, not eating for days, mentions death, suggestive themes, a bit of swearing

Mentions: mental breakdown, overworking oneself, starvation, hyperventilating, ugly crying, kiri being absolutely biggest sweetheart, daddy!Kiri breifly

A/n: this is my first fic on Tumblr so please be nice, and if you enjoyed it, like and comment

Everything hurt. My head, my eyes, my chest, my mind. I don't even know what happened. One minute I'm perfectly fine, having a good time with my friends, the next I'm in this situation.

Im sitting in the middle of my dorm on the floor, crying and sobbing over the smallest thing. I admit being stressed with everything going on in my life; with upcoming school exams , training every single day to improve my ultimate moves, and the biggest clicher... my dad's passing a couple months prior.

This whole time I've just been bottling it all up, trying my hardest to put up a brave front as to not worry my mom, who already has a lot on her plate, my friends and boyfriend, Kirishima. To be frank, I haven't even told my class or Kiri, keeping a bright smile as to not hint them in on my life crashing down around me. Some days are easy to keep up my smile, to let my mind focus on something else, and then there are harder days when everything reminds me of my dad.

I was real close to him, we did a lot of fun stuff together; going to amusement parks, going out to see movies we both were really excited to watch, going out to eat at our favorite restaurants.

It still doesnt feel real after all this time. It felt just like yesterday he was perfectly fine, we were celebrating my grandma's birthday, and literally the next day, I find him stiff and eerily still in his bed. And then everything crashing down on me as the paramedics regretfully tell me that my dad was no longer of this world, when I sob into the phone to my mom that my dad was gone, when I listened to my grandma's wails as my mom told her of her son's passing.

It all felt so surreal, like if I go over to see my grandma at her house, I'll see my dad sitting there in the living room, greeting me with his smile and warm hugs and kisses.

I sob harder as I remember all the times we watched Disney movies and me crying at some scenes as my dad happily comforts me. Buying me a toy from one of the movies I adored at the time. Him gifting me a puppy when he moved into a new neighborhood and I didnt have anyone to play with.

My head's pounding, a deep pressure in my brain, as I clutch tightly to the same doll he bought me all those years ago. My screams silent as I try to keep my classmates from finding me in such a pathetic state and worrying about me, my brain not processing that everyone was still at school. I fought to take control of my emotions again, wanting to be strong for my mom, grandma, and my friends. Unknowning of the pace of my breathing as I desperately tried to grasp my emotions.

My stress and anxiety climbing higher with each panicked breath. All those late nights I stayed up studying as much as I can for the midterm exams, catching up to me. I even forsaken eating as to study so I can at least get a passing grade. And the times I didnt spend studying was spent training to try and get my mind to focus on anything rather than fully face the reality that I no longer live in a world with my dad in it.

When was the last time I had a fulfilling meal? Three days?? And the time before that?? I dont even remember, the pounding in my head preventing me from thinking too much. All I can think about is what caused this stupid meltdown in the first place, my frustrations climbing higher with my stress and anxiety.

~~~

Today was one of those days where it was hard to keep up my smile for people. In an attempt to cheer myself up, I made myself the same lunch my dad and I used to make together for later, excited to eat as this was my first actual meal in days.

As I stroll down the hallways to meet up with Kiri and the rest of the BakuSquad, someone in a rush, bumps into me full force, causing me to fall and drop my lunch on the floor. I only had a moment to grieve as I see my precious lunch splattered all over the floor before the person that bumped into me uttered a measly, rushed "sorry" before hurrying on their way, stepping my lunch in the process.

I stayed there in my position on the floor, looking at my lunch with grief. I know it was stupid to start crying over something that can be replaced with something else that Lunch Rush made, but there the crocodile tears were. My heart and mind had wanted that lunch.

Without thinking I got up and ran out of school and towards the dormitories, deaf to the calls of my fellow 3A classmates and the incoming call on my phone.

~~~

I was brought back to the present by the sound of pounding coming from my dorm door. I was still fighting for control, not able to send a reply without my sobs mixing in with my voice.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through the door. Of course it would be Kiri to be checking up on me. "I tried calling you to see where you were, but you didn't answer. Tsuyu told me she saw you running off upset when I went to go looking for you."

For some reason I sobbed harder, barely able to keep quiet.

"Princess/Prince, please tell me what's wrong, I'm getting really worried."

He stayed quiet for a moment, anxiously waiting for my response. And of course my body betrays me when an ugly sob wracks through my very being, unable to quiet it down.

"Princess/Prince, are you crying?!" Kiri's voice carried his panic and worry. "I'm coming in!" He warned before slamming the door open.

I barely raised my head to meet his worried crimson eyes as his giant frame took up most of the doorway, frozen. His expression falls at the sight of the giant crocodile tears running down my face, distress written all over my expression.

Without saying anything, he rushed over to my side, his big, warm hand landing on my back, immediately rubbing gentle circles as to comfort me.

"Baby, what's wrong? Tell me," he asked, voice trying to soothe me. I shook my head, unable to say or utter a word and I dropped my head again, breathing erratic. "You're hyperventilating, baby. You need to try and calm down a bit."

More sobs was the only thing I responded with. Hearing some shuffling, a moment passed before a soft calming melody sounded through the storm in my mind, along with the sound of gentle falling rain. It was the same several hour music track that I would usually listen to when something was bothering me.

I've always loved the sound of falling rain and ocean waves.

Kiri dropped his phone to the floor, letting the music wrap us in its soothing melody. He brought his hand to my cheek to gently bring my face up and face him. His expression sad as he gets a better look at my distraught, of the crocodile tears streaming down my face, of the deep sadness in my eyes.

Letting his other hand to join my face, he gently wiped away my tears as I tried to control my breathing. "Baby, you have to calm down. It's okay now, I'm here," he said in a gentle voice, bringing me up onto his lap, and wrapping his strong arms around me.

I clutch onto his uniform jacket, burying my face into his chest as I sobbed away, ruining his uniform with my tears and snot.

He gently rocked the both of us, bringing one of his hands up to my head as he softly brushed his fingers through my hair. "Shhh, baby. It's okay. It's okay," he whispered in my ear.

I don't know how long we sat there, listening to falling rain, Kiri rocking us, whispering calming words into my ear before my breathing was back to normal and my sobs turning into sniffles. Even long after I've calmed down, Kiri still held onto me tightly, grounding me from the storm whirling in my mind.

Only when I lifted up my head from his chest to look up at him did he give me a soft smile, reaching up to brush away strands of hair from my face and eyes. Then, Kiri reached over to his phone, pausing the music before turning back to me.

"Feeling better?"

I slowly nodded my head, my voice hoarse as I finally managed to give a reply, "Yeah, a little bit."

"What happened back there?" Kiri asked, his brow furrowed in worry.

Tears were already welling up in my (e/c) eyes, my bottom trembling as I fought to hold back the tears. Kiri reached up one hand to hold my chin, his thumb softly brushing my bottom lip.

"Please baby, I hate seeing you so distraught," he told me, eyes full of concern as he continued to stroke my bottom lip, as if trying to coax the words to come out, to explain what was paining me so much so he can fix it.

"I-" I stuttered, sniffling back the tears. "I miss him."

"Miss who, baby?" Kiri asked, confused.

"M-my dad," I said, voice now shaky as the tears started falling again. "I m-miss him so much."

Kiri seemed to come to the conclusion that I might have only been extremely homesick. "Why dont you go visit him today then? It's Friday, so you can just stay with him for the weekend."

I violently shook my head. "I-I can't."

"Why not, baby?" He started stroking my back again to try and comfort me.

"H-he died! Two months ago!" I sobbed, pressing my face to his chest again.

"Oh fuck. Shit, I am soo sorry baby. Why didn't you tell me?" Kiri asked, hugging me tightly to him. "I would've been there for you."

"I-I didn't w-want to w-worry y-you," I cried.

Kirishima started rocking us both again, his grip on me tighter as if trying to hold me together. "Of course I'm going to be worried baby. I have been worried about you. I noticed you've been distancing yourself for a while now, but I didn't want to make you talk when you weren't ready. God, I'm so unmanly, not realizing that you were in so much pain all this time." He placed his hand on top of my head. "I am sooo sorry, baby."

I sniffled, shaking my head. "D-Don't be. I w-was the one who d-decided not to t-tell any of you g-guys. I-it's not your f-fault."

"But why didn't you tell us baby? You know we all would've been here for you."

I shrugged. "I-I just wanted to be s-strong for y-you guys. I d-didn't want to w-worry any of you."

"Oh, babe." He pulled back enough to look at me. "You are strong. But it's okay to lean on us, on mee. Just because you're crying, doesn't make you weak. You're mourning, and its okay to cry when you're mourning. It just shows how close you are with your dad and how much you're missing him."

"But... But it feels like my fault though," I cried.

"What do you mean?" His brows furrowed again in confusion.

"I... I was there that night. The night he passed." I wiped at the tears even though it was fruitless with how the tears continued to fall. "We were all happily celebrating my grandma's birthday. We were all laughing. And I went to sleep a bit late that night. I noticed how his was position in his bed when I got up to use the bathroom, but I didnt think any of it. My dad sits in that position sometimes, and I know that he goes to sleep way later than me. And when I woke up at 11 the next morning because of my grandma calling for me, I got up to see what she needed. You remember, that my grandma cant really move around that well anymore?" I asked him.

Kiri nodded his head, remembering that I helped my grandma when the two of us had dinner with my dad and grandma. "So when I got up and headed towards her room, I saw my dad in the same position. But figured he must've just fallen asleep... Then I went to use the bathroom after helping my grandma, and when I looked closer, I noticed how swollen his feet were. I... I knew my dad was always sick and his legs getting swollen all the time, but... I-I just didnt think I'd find him like that." I cried, covering my mouth as another sob wracked threw me. "Vomit... All over the blankets and his bierd... A blood clot hanging from his nose-"

"Shhh, its okay, baby" Kiri hushed me, rubbing my back, "If it's too much for you, you don't have to explain anymore."

After waiting for my breathing to stabilize again, I continued, "I... I just feel like if I had checked up on him before I went to bed... Maybe... Maybe the paramedics would've been able to save him..."

Kiri grabbed onto my shoulders to pull me away so as to look me dead in the eyes with a stern look. "Y/n, listen to me. It is not your fault," he said firmly. "Okay? It is not your fault. Sometimes these things happen."

"But-" I started, but he cut me off.

"No but's. Okay? I know I havent known him as long as you, but I could tell from the first time I met him that he was soo proud of you. And probably still is." His words made me cry harder, my bottom lip trembling again as I tried to pull myself together in front of this amazing man in front of me. "There's no need to beat yourself up over this," Kiri said, pressing a kiss to my forehead as I started bawling my eyes out again. Kiri started rocking us again, holding me tight as I let out all my sadness and anguish.

"Shhhh... It's okay... Everything's will be okay..." He mumbled in my ear. "Let it all out."

We stayed like that for the next hour as I let out all my suffering, the scent of his cologne, the comforting words, and the sound of the music track all lulling me to sleep, my mind and body too heavy to fight it off.

~~~

I woke up to a dark room, the sun long gone over the horizon. I blearily blinked my eyes open, feeling my tears dried over the skin of my cheeks. All of a sudden, a warm hand slides under my shirt, rubbing a thumb on my stomach. A face was then buried into the back of my neck, a soft pair of lips kissing at the skin.

"Morning beautiful/handsome," came Kiri's sleep filled voice

"Mmnn what time is it?" I mumbled.

Kiri pulled away for a moment, turning to reach behind him for presumably his phone on my nightstand. Squinting at the glare of the phone, Kiri gave me an answer, "7 o'clock at night, so its just about dinner time." Dropping his phone back onto the nightstand, he resumed his position of spooning me, completely dwarfing my body with his giant frame. "You haven't ate lunch right?"

I shook my head. "Or breakfast. Or dinner last night. Or any meals for the past few days."

"What?" Kiri shot up, glaring down at me. "And the time before that?"

I shrugged, my brain too drained to think of a solid answer. "Couple days."

"Y/n!"

"I know, I know. I shouldn't be skipping my meals everyday. I should eat at least once a day."

"Is that why you look thinner? Cause you've been skipping your meals??!"

I shrug at him. "I was busy studying for the midterms. Besides I never went 3 days without eating something."

"That's not the point!" Kiri rubbed his hand down his face before looking at me with worry. "You shouldn't be skipping any meals or overworking yourself like this." He reached over to brush a lock of hair away. "Babe, my heart hurts at the thought of you not taking care of yourself."

I place my hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. "I know... I'm sorry. I didnt mean to worry you like this. I just... couldn't come to terms with reality so I busied myself to make me forget the pain. On the bright side I came up with this new, awesome ultimate move I've been dying to show you," I said with some excitement, trying to cheer him up.

He scowled sternly at me for a moment before sighing, shaking his head, any trace of worry and frustration gone from his face as a small smile took over his lips. "Alright fine." But then the stern look came back as he firmly told me, "But I'm not letting you skip any meals anymore, even if I have to force you to eat. And you're not doing no studying or training this weekend."

"Wait, but-" I tried to counter, stopped when the stern look in his eyes intensified.

"No if's, and's or but's. Unless its yours up in the air as I fuck you so hard you wont be able to do anything this weekend but relax."

I blushed and swallowed loudly. "Good, now wait here while I go get you a plate. Bakugou's supposed to be cooking tonight." He leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips. Then another. Then another and another before pulling away only slightly to look into my eyes with that familiar dark look in his eyes, a smirk forming on his handsome face. "Maybe I should grab you two plates. You're going to need it for fuel for tonight."

My faced burned as I realized what he meant. He chuckled darkly before standing up and walking towards the door. "I'll be back in a few. And you better be stripped down to nothing by the time I get back." Turning back towards me with a seductive look. "Don't you worry about a thing, baby girl/boy. Daddy's going to take real good care of you this weekend." Then he opened the door and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

I gulped loudly, already feeling that familiar heat down below.

It was going to a long weekend.

#gender neutral #anguish #daddy kirishima #mentally drained #kirishima eijiro x reader #my hero academia

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mobagehelllocal · 4 years

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“dati” ver ii - kalim, vil, idia & malleus

A/N: Wah, this got so long I had to split it into two parts ;u; So here’s some information if you didn’t read ver i, and went straight for ver ii!

The Reader, is different from the actual MC of TWST!

“Dati” is a pretty difficult word to translate, because it’s just one word but--it can mean so much. For the sake of this story, you can interpret its meaning as “a long time ago”.

Due to the general premise, the reader is female!

The prologue for ver ii “dati” is the same prologue for ver i!

Link to the concept design for the uniform!

Inspired by:

“Dati” by Sam Concepcion, Tippy Dos Santos and Quest. (I encourage you to listen to it OR read the English lyrics.)

“If You Can Dream” by the Disney Princesses. (I would link both but my posts dont appear if I do that ;u;)

So, without further ado, let’s get into it!~

Other versions: ver i (riddle, leona, azul), ver ii (this)

"--as you already know. We held a school-wide meeting about the week long exchange program with the all-females private school, Garden Academy. Professors Divus Crewel and Mozus Trein accompanied our delegates to Garden Academy this morning,” Dire Crowley peered at his students through his black mask, “while Professor Mozus Trein stayed with our delegates, Professor Divus Crewel escorted the delegates from Garden Academy to Night Raven College.”

Excited whispers broke out in the crowd. Crowley cleared his throat once, then again--before everyone settled down. The Headmaster huffed audibly at that.

“I’ll be using this morning meeting to introduce the delegates,” Crowley turned to the left side of the stage. He motioned at Crewel who was standing back stage with a Garden Academy professor and her students. “Now then, please give a hand for--”

In the crowd, his eyes widened.

In turn, you were pretty excited too. You had held off telling your friend about you coming to his school because you wanted to surprise him.

All you girls had been assigned to a particular dorm, not to sleep in--but rather, to experience. Each dorm in NRC (much like GA), had their own unique culture. So, to truly experience the college meant you all needed to immerse yourselves in the different dorms and their cultures. You had to sneakily reconfirm with him what his dorm was, to make sure you got assigned to the correct one.

And now that you were here...

“Alright ladies,” Professor Radcliffe said kindly, “we will reconvene here at 5PM to return to the dorm Headmaster Crowley so generously set aside for us.”

“Yes Professor.” Radcliffe eyed all of you girls, before she sighed with an exasperated smile. You were all very excited, and doing very little to hide that.

“Okay, I know you want to go--but one last thing,” you all let out loud, false and very unladylike groans that Radcliffe ignored. “Remember to be beautiful--”

“At heart.” you all recited, familiar with your school’s motto.

“Go on then,” Radcliffe finally said, “the dorm heads and their assistants should be waiting outside for all of you.”

With a cheer, you all parted ways.

Kalim‘s eyes brightened as he caught sight of you again.

“Jamil! Jamil! Look!” he tugged on the other boy’s sleeves as he pointed you out to the crowd. “So it really is [Name]!”

“They did announce her full name on the stage, Kalim.” Jamil said rather blandly, not that Kalim was affected by his exasperated tone.

“Kalim! Jamil!” Your uniform--the pale green of House Water Lily, the House of Passion--swished around you as you came to a stop before the two boys that you hadn’t seen in ages.

“It’s been awhile.” You reached for their hands and clasped them with yours--at which both boys blushed. While Kalim gave you a goofy smile, Jamil instantly looked away.

You had spent a couple of months as a child in the Land of Hot Sands because your parents were just beginning to expand your family owned restaurant--Tiana’s Palace--into that country. You had met Kalim, then Jamil because your parents were business partners with Kalim’s father.

It was hard not to enjoy their friendship. Kalim--was fun loving and easy going. Jamil--was calm and attentive. When you were getting exhausted by Kalim’s energy, Jamil knew when to step in and what to say to calm him down. They were perfectly balanced, and you remembered them fondly.

Needless to say...

When it had been time for you to return to your country, there were a lot of tears.

“Sniff... why are you leaving?” Kalim cried, “I thought we would be friends forever!”

“I--I don’t want to leave too!” you shook, snot dripped down your nose.

“Kalim... [Name] has to go back.” Jamil said slowly, but even his eyes were glassy and wet.

“Wah!” You sniffled as you wrapped both of your arms around the two boys who became so dear to you.

“I--it’s not like we won’t meet again!” Jamil protested, as he too began to truly join in the crying fest.

“Waaah! Don’t leave [Name]!” Kalim wailed loudly.

“B--but I can’t stay.” you sobbed. “I tried already...”

(Behind you the adults were chuckling to themselves at the drama the kids were causing... had they not realized they could just ask them to keep in contact...?)

(But to a child, the world seemed infinite. It didn’t seem to have an end.

To the three of you, it truly felt like a final farewell.)

“Promise, we won’t forget each other?” you demanded as you pulled back. The two boys shared a glance through their tears and turned back to you with a determined nod.

“Promise we’ll always be friends, no matter what!” Kalim said. In turn you and Jamil nodded pretty determinedly.

Then you and Kalim turned to Jamil--you waited for him to make a promise too. He flushed at suddenly being put on the spot, before his eyes light up and he said--

“Then we promise--to meet up again, one day? Here?”

You and Kalim nodded vigorously at that.

As your parents took you a way, you all wailed pretty loudly.

“You can see them again one day.” your mother had said, confused.

“But it doesn’t mean I won’t miss them when I can’t see them.” you said in a solemn tone. Your parents exchanged looks amused looks.

“I’m surprised you got so attached to those two.”

“They were fun to play with.”

“I’m sure they were sweetie. Now get some rest.”

There was some time where you all attempted to exchange letters--since the MagiCam had yet to be developed to a point where international instant messaging was possible.

However...

Children were fickle creatures.

Within a few months, you all eventually found something of more interest than a friend from a distant place who you might not see again.

Your interests in each other waned away, until it became a distant, fond and somewhat embarrassing memory.

That is until...

“Hey [Name], did you sign up for the Night Raven College exchange program?” You looked up from the recipe book that you were reading.

“Yeah I did, why?”

“Did you know the model, Vil Schoenheit goes there?”

“Who is Vil?” Your friend gasped dramatically before she rolled her eyes. “Figures you wouldn’t know who Vil Schoenheit is. Come here.” She showed you pictures of Vil’s MagiCam account. There were some photos of the school, and rarer still--photos of other people aside from Vil himself.

Which, you know--if you had a face like that, you’d totally fill your MagiCam with just selfies.

“Oh Sweet Evangeline,” your friend sighed dreamily, “NRC boys are definitely cuter than RSA boys--and I swear I’m challenging all the RSA stans to try saying otherwise over my dead body--” You snickered at her rant, before a certain photo caught your eye.

“Oh is that...”

“Oh holy Evangeline--” your friend began to wheeze. “I think these are all the Dorm Leaders for this school year--” she clicked onto the photo to open the post. Your friend was right--Vil had noted that this was this year’s NRC Dorm Leader list.

“Malleus Draconia-- naturally. Vil Schoenheit--NATURALLY.” your friend giggled in excitement, “Oh, I guess Leona Kingscholar is repeating a year... No idea who Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto or Idia Shroud is--and this guy is--”

“Kalim Al-Asim.” you whispered. If you shut your eyes, you could hear the wind whistle, the laughter of two boys, the joyous shrieking of a girl--and a magic carpet ride across the wide expanse of the sky. Your friend arched a brow at you.

“Do you know him?”

“I think I do.” you hesitated, the sound of laughter still rang in your ears. “I’m pretty sure I met him when I was a kid... when I travelled around with my family.”

“Oooh, you should totally try and see if he remembers. He’s cute.”

“We were kids.” you tried to explain to your friend but she only waved a dismissive hand.

“You aren’t now. Also childhood romance trope is so cute, you gotta let me see it first hand.” your friend grabbed your phone and typed in the tagged username of Kalim Al-Asim.

{”Hi Kalim! Do you remember me? I’m [Name] [Surname].”}

{”Like [Name] [Surname]? Like Tiana’s Place? Yes! Oh Sorceror, how’d you find me?”}

{”Well funny story...”}

And the rest was history.

Jamil took awhile to come around, but you had a video call with the two, and after naming a particular embarrassing moment--Jamil had easily been convinced that it was actually you.

That had been a few months before the actual exchange, and you chose not to tell them about your part in it so you could surprise them once you got up on stage.

Surprise them you did.

The moment they announced your name, Kalim shouted, and Jamil had face palmed.

It was another memory to add to the ones you held dearly.

Now you were seated in Scarabia’s dorms, as you happily enjoyed the grand feast and parade prepared by Jamil and Kalim.

As Kalim flopped onto the seat next to yours, he shot you a wide grin.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am!” you hummed, “I haven’t been anywhere close to the Land of Hot Sands recently...” you put your spoon down and smiled. “The food is really good too! This is the best version of your cuisine that I have tasted. My compliments to the chef for sure! I’d love to take a peek at the recipe.” On your other side Jamil choked, and you turned to him with a confused expression.

“Are you okay, Jamil?” you asked, concerned.

“Hahah, he was probably surprised at the praise! Jamil cooked everything after all!”

“Woah, you did? We definitely should exchange recipes.” with a particularly red face, Jamil nodded his assent before he excused himself.

“I hope he’s okay.”

“It’s fine! He’s having a hard time expressing it, but he’s really excited to see you.” Kalim peered at you curiously. “I am too, of course.”

“Same.” you agreed. “It’s a little sad we lost contact.”

“Well, finding each other now was pretty fun! So I think it was worth it.” You giggled in response.

“I’ll have to agree with you, Kalim.”

You both turned back to the front to watch the parade when Kalim spoke up again.

“Hey [Name]?”

“Hm?”

“This time... let’s not lose each other, okay?” You turned back to Kalim, surprised at the change of his tone. You couldn’t help but let your expression melt into a soft one.

“Mhm! This time... let’s keep those promises.” You two shared a grin, as the parade finished off with fireworks.

When Vil saw you hop up onto the stage, he had definitely been surprised. He hadn’t expected to see you--though now that he thought about it, it had been so out of the blue of you to ask him about whether or not he was in Pomefiore.

Then again he had been busy with other things... So he hadn’t thought too much on it. You were, after all, the type of person who brought up something from ten years in the past simply because you suddenly remembered it. He had assumed it had been something like that.

Vil stood with Rook by his side, his arms crossed as he waited for the Garden Academy students to exit the Mirror Chamber. Once you finally appeared in the crowd, your eyes instantly met his.

“Hi Vil.” you greeted--uncharacteristically nervous and shy around him, dressed in the pale purple colors of House Chrysanthemum--the House of Artistry.

At the sight of you, Vil’s lips instantly curled up into a beautiful smile.

“Well if it isn’t my number one fan.” he raised a hand and began to rub a finger against a purple mark on your cheek. “paint got to your face again.” Your tense shoulders loosened as Vil greeted you the same way he always did.

“Whoops.” Vil shook his head, and as he pulled back he noticed that your skirt and your sleeves had faint splatter marks of paint--and on your wrist--

“You need to stop writing on your wrist, dear one.” he chided gently, though used to your antics, he easily unclipped his magic pen from his breast pocket and began to cast a spell to clean you up.

“Is it that obvious? I really did try to clean up...” you complained, but you let Vil fuss over you--as he normally did. There was no stopping him until he was satisfied. When he finally pulled back, he nodded in an approving manner.

“Vil, did you like it? Was it a good surprise?” you looked up at him with curiosity shining in your eyes, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Yes. It was a pleasant surprise. So we’ll be spending a whole two weeks together...” he mused.

You were a person he had grown up with, and the person he regarded as his dearest friend. Much like him, you had an eye for art--except while his art focused on himself as a model and actor--yours came in the form of paintings.

Your identical passion for beauty made the two of you attached at the hip. You were the one whose opinion mattered the most to him--because there was no one whose opinions he trusted more.

“Ohoho, Roi de Poison, who is this?” Rook peered curiously at you, he had never seen Vil react like this before...

Well actually he had. Whenever Vil was on his phone--but Vil never explained, and no matter how Rook tried, he never figured it out.

“This is my best friend, [Name]. We’ve been friends since our childhood.” Vil’s lips curled up, “She’s also--” Vil looked at you for a moment, and you nodded. Vil then mentioned your MagiCam account, and Rook’s eyes popped open in surprise. He knew that name--you were one of the most popular artist on MagiCam. Rook knew that you and Vil followed and liked each other’s works, but there had been no hint to the of your relationship with Vil.

He studied Vil curiously.

For someone who was never afraid to share what he did to the public’s eye, you were an incredibly well kept secret for Vil. From what he knew about you on MagiCam--you were a very private person who was never one to share your photos. Why, he knew that Idia Shroud from Ignihyde was a fan of some of your otaku related works--he had heard from the man that one of your quirks was that you chose to never appear in fan gatherings. You were incredibly mysterious.

To realize that--that person--

He eyed you curiously. You were far different from the women that Vil would often be seen hanging out with. As a model, he had a pretty extravagant social life. He hung out with people as glamorous as him and you--

Well, to put it plain and simple, you weren’t anything like that.

“So Vil, where do we go first?” you asked, Vil turned his gaze away from the analytical glint in Rook’s eyes, to smile at you.

“I’ll show you the gardens, I’m sure you’ll love them.”

After Vil had bid you ‘good bye’ as you and your classmates returned to your designated dorm, Vil looked at Rook with an annoyed expression.

“Alright Rook.” the Pomefiore Dorm Leader crossed his arms, “what is it?”

“What’s what?” the other third year raised his hands defensively.

“You kept staring at [Name] earlier with that look in your eye... I don’t like it.”

“I was just thinking... she was a very well kept secret.”

“A secret..?” Vil arched a brow. “She isn’t a secret at all. As you remember, she’s also incredibly famous on MagiCam.”

“No, I do mean, she’s a secret of yours, Roi de Poison.” Rook smiled, and Vil’s eyes narrowed in turn.

“I don’t understand.”

“You never mentioned her on MagiCam.”

“That was by her request. She wanted to build up her own audience.” Vil explained.

“Hm... that’s interesting.”

“What is?”

“I do believe...” Rook’s eyes slipped open. “That your friend is hiding something from you.

Vil didn’t like to believe what Rook told him, but he did wonder to himself how he could miss it.

You had considered each other best friends--yet he never noticed how you truly felt. The next time he caught you (because for some reason--it was as if you knew he wanted to talk to you about something important--and he had a difficult time catching you), he asked you if you could spend lunch together in private. You had happily agreed.

Once you two had sat down together in one of the gazebos in NRC’s gardens, he placed down the basket of food.

“Ah! Vil, it looks really good~” you said, happy.

“Yes, and you’ll see it’s all healthy too.” he smiled--how could he not, in your presence? As you two began to eat, you chattered on about what you’ve seen and liked about NRC so far. While he did listen--he can’t help but have his thoughts drift off to Rook’s statement.

Could you really be hiding--?

“--Vil? Is something wrong?” you put the utensil down, and studied your friend with a worried expression on your face. He felt a little guilty--your usual absent minded but happy expression was twisted with the furrow of your brow, and the downward slope of your lips.

“No it’s...” he hesitated a moment. He thought for a second how you were the first person to ruffle him in a long time. “I was thinking... we’re both big influencers now--in fashion and in the arts.”

“Alright, I’m listening.” you nodded.

“Why don’t we do a collaboration? While you’re still here. We have a week left.” He offered, and you furrowed your brows.

“I don’t know Vil--as alike as our fields are, our audiences can be pretty different.”

“Do you... well, do you not like sharing about me on your page?” Vil hated this. As an influencer, he was used to being loved and hated. There was a time when the comments got to him--but now, he’s able to brush it off with little problem. With you though--well, he was always going to be emotionally invested in you. So, of course you could make him feel this insecure. He hadn’t felt like this for such a long time--and it’s certainly much worse than he remembered. You looked alarmed.

“What? No, no! Of course that’s not it.” you frantically shook your head as you reached your hands out to hold his.

“Then why? I was happy that you didn’t want to mix business with our friendship... but well... something made me realize that we don’t have a relationship on MagiCam at all and...” Vil paused, and you rubbed the back of his hands gently. “And you’re so important to me [Name]. So I want to share that with my followers too.” Your cheeks turned red at that and you looked down on your laced hands.

“It’s just...” you inhaled sharply, “I... well, I know you have a certain image to uphold and--and I don’t want to be someone who would cause people to criticize you.” you pulled your hands away to gesture at yourself. Paint splattered blouse, ink on your wrist and hair--an absolute mess. “I mean look at me... and look at you. People have a hard time imagining we’re friends and--and well... I know the type of fans Beauty influencers can have. I don’t want to get criticized because I know you’ll defend me and I don’t want that to negatively affect your reputation.” Your eyes flickered away, and he could swear they were slightly wet.

Of course.

Rook was wrong.

Rook had assumed that perhaps you simply hadn’t wanted to be associated with Vil Schoenheit. While that was technically the truth--you weren’t doing it for negative reasons. You were just looking out for him--thinking about the best for his reputation.

“Like right now--I really wanted to see you, surprise you--so I impulsively joined the exchange program and couldn’t back out. I was worried about how people might see us hang out together... I’m worried about how what your fans will think...”

However, there was no way in hell that Vil Schoenheit would let you put yourself down like this.

“Okay, no.” he interrupted, and you looked up at him--confused.

“Vil?”

“I won’t allow you to look down at yourself like that. I appreciate that you care about my reputation but--” he takes your hands in his and looks you in the eye. “[Name], you’re more important to me than that.” your eyes water up, and he kept speaking.

“Sweet one, you were always my number one fan--even before my career really took off, you were the one who cheered me on. You were so sure I could do this, even when I had my own moments of weakness. You believed in me when no one else did.” Vl scowled, “So I’ll always be on your side too, alright? It doesn’t matter to me what they all think.”

“But... you really worked hard to get to where you are.” you said weakly, “It can happen super quickly...”

“I am not Vil Schoenheit for nothing.” he said in response, “besides--you are beautiful [Name].” your blushed intensified, and you ducked your head. “Do you not believe me? I know beauty when I see it--and I know you are.”

“Vil... please stop, you’re embarrassing me.”

“No I will not. I will keep telling you this until you know this. I refuse to let someone I consider beautiful, look down on herself like this. Alright?” He reached out a hand to lift your chin. Your eyes were wet, and you bit your lip as you nodded hesitantly.

He smiled, pleased.

“Vil... I’m sorry for not... well...”

“No, I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner. What type of best friend am I, that it took someone else pointing it out for me to realize it?” You giggled at that.

“Well, to be fair--we are best friends. I know how to hide it from you.”

“And you better stop hiding these things from me, alright?”

“Yes, of course.” you nodded, a grin finally lit up your face. Vil’s smile turned gentle.

“Now, how about we think of a collaboration project?”

As you stepped out of the Mirror Chamber, you immediately move in the direction of a familiar blue flame.

“Hello Ortho.” When Ortho looked up, he beamed brightly.

“[Name]!” He wrapped his arms around you, which you reciprocate with an elegant smile.

“It has been awhile, has it not?” you mused, as you let go of him. You quickly smoothened the pink skirts of House Eglantine--the House of Sophistication. You turned your head from side to side and your brow raised as you realized that a certain man wasn’t here.

“Ortho, where is your brother?” Ortho gulped nervously, and behind him--one of the Ignihyde student’s gadget began to shake. Your eyes narrowed.

“Is your brother holing himself up in his room again? On such an occasion? Which requires his presence as a dorm leader?”

“Uh...” Ortho glanced away nervously before he met your gaze again. “Yes?”

“Ortho!” squeaked the gadget, “you could defend me!”

“Sorry big brother... but you also brought it onto yourself.” Ortho said quickly, and your lips twitched at that. “There’s no point in lying to [Name].”

“That’s true.” you could hear Idia squeak from the tablet at your response. “Take me to his room.”

“Alright [Name].” Ortho agreed easily.

“Ortho!” Idia wailed, “on whose side are you on?”

“For once, not yours. Sorry big brother.” Ortho eagerly looked up at you. “Will you tell me some stories?”

“I also have pictures.” you offered and Ortho cheered. You turned back to the the tablet.

“Prepare yourself Idia.”

“I’m going to die.”

Your childhood best friend mourned, and your lips quirked in amusement.

Despite it all, you had missed Idia especially because...

Your lips twitched downward for a bit, before you immediately composed yourself.

You really didn’t want to upset Idia after all.

As he heard you begin to tell Ortho some stories from your school, Idia began to frantically run around his room, and cleaned up as best as possibly could.

After all, you weren’t a part of House Eglantine just for show.

Like him, you were the daughter of an incredibly old and wealthy family from the Isle of Lamentation. In your childhood, Idia, who had always been shy--attached himself to you, when you had protected him from some bullies. Ever since, he just followed you around.

For some reason, you chose to stick around with him--despite how different the two of you were.

He was an absolute shut-in who preferred to play games and watch anime from the comfort of his bedroom.

You were a popular socialite amongst the elite of the Isle of Lamentation--known for your beauty and intelligence. You were also recognized on MagiCam for your love of travel. In fact, you were often transported all over Twisted Wonderland because tourists locations wanted to be on your account.

Again, he really didn’t see why you stuck around.

A lot of his friends when he was younger--those seeking to befriend the Shroud Family’s heir--had given up on him when they all realized that he was difficult to communicate with.

But not you.

Ever since he attached himself to you--you had seemed to attach yourself back for no reason. You willingly called himself his best friend (and despite how different you were--he’d admit that you were the only friend he had that he could consider as a best friend--), which could hurt your social standing because of how insanely beloved you were--but you didn’t care (and of course, you’re also the type of popular kid that could never make yourself unpopular).

Don’t get Idia wrong.

He didn’t hate you.

You were patient.

You were kind.

You were understanding.

Idia definitely had a crush on you, and he didn’t know what to do with it--because he had such a hard time finding something about himself that you might be attracted to.

You were like the true hidden route to be conquered on a dating simulation game. First he would need to find a way to ensure that he were on the right path. Then next, he needed to complete a bunch of prerequisites to be able to even access this hidden route.

Your difficulty level was EX.

He had spent most of his childhood by your side--

‘but why does it feel like I know nothing about you?’ he frowned.

Truth be told, Idia had an idea on why. He had been very selfish with you. Nobody had been willing to talk to him about his interests in real life--except you. That’s why he talked to you about his games or robotics--because it’s different when someone in real life is the one doing the listening to you. In the process of that, he felt like you knew more about him than the other way around and it made him guilty.

He was guilty he didn’t hear you out often but the thing is--you never really shared.

“--Idia.” he felt a hand press against his forehead, and he fell backwards with a screech. You put your hands on your hips as you looked down at him with an arched brow. “Well, at least I know you aren’t running a fever.”

“You--you’re here!” He squeaked, “Already?”

“I am.” you looked around, and noted how messy his room was. Instead of commenting however, you began to move around and pick up his things. When you noticed he still hadn’t moved, you turned to him with an arched brow. “Come on Idia, I’ll help you.”

“Ah... Okay.” He looked up at Ortho in confusion, and it seemed that he was also stunned that you hadn’t gone straight into a lecture about his responsibilities as you normally would.

Idia considered himself a terrible friend, but he wasn’t so terrible as to not notice that you weren’t... well, at max HP. Sometimes he thought you would get angry, but you would instead sigh, and just avert your gaze.

When you were in public (because Idia was worried okay? So he kept an eye out for you too--) you seemed to interact normally with your peers. The fans you had in NRC--were dealt with your normal grace.

However, when you would visit Idia, you would grow quiet--and thoughtful.

It was, literally, killing him.

Was it him? Were you mulling the idea of cancelling your support together?

Idia sincerely didn’t know what to do if this was real.

So one time when you were in his bedroom, you suddenly got a call. You looked down at your phone, furrowed your brows in that way that Idia hated--and left the room.

“You should speak with her, brother.” Ortho suggested, a frown on his face. “she seemed really down recently.”

“I mean... what do I even say?” Idia squeaked.

“I’m not sure.” Ortho shrugged, “but I can tell your concerned brother, so just do it.”

Idia gathered all his courage, and moved to follow you. As he turned down the hallway he heard you speak.

“--I don’t want to marry Adonis.”

Idia immediately froze, and stood in place as he heard your one sided argument--with who he assumed--was probably one of your parents.

Alongside with being the most popular socialite of the elites in the Isle of Lamentation, you were also the most desirable waifu--ahem--he meant bachelorette.

Idia knew this because it was one of the only times you ever complained about it. Your parents were pleased with how popular you were, and the amount of marriage offers you received. You had told him that since you were pretty young, you weren’t really being forced to chose now.

“But I’m sure the pressure will be different when I grow older.” you had sighed. Idia hadn’t known what to say--and the most he could do was put a hand on your back.

“There... there?” he asked, with a frown. He really hadn’t known what to do. You looked up and met his eyes before laughing.

“Sorry to bother you about this Idia.”

‘No, it’s okay! I don’t mind!’ was what he thought, but you stood up.

“Venting helped a little. Thank you for listening.” you picked up your things and stared at a frozen Idia. “I think I’ll go home now. I’ll see you... later.”

He should’ve tried to stop you--but he just... blanked. He should’ve tried to say something--anything to cheer you up. Heck, maybe you would’ve liked for him to ask if you wanted to game a little to get your mind off of it.

“I’m serious mother... Adonis doesn’t respect women--I won’t...” you paused, “I won’t feel safe... I know father thinks he’s the best option but... I don’t really want to talk about this right now. I’m in Idia’s dorm...” you stopped again.

“Mother...” your voice was shaky, and Idia’s hands fisted in his coat. “No. Stop talking about Idia like that.” Idia tensed, and turned his head. “... It’s not about that, he’s my friend. My best friend. I won’t allow you to talk about him like that.”

Idia had an idea on what the elite of the Isle of Lamentation thought of him. They looked at him with respect because he was the heir to the Shroud Family, they also acknowledged his skills with technology... but otherwise? He was considered eccentric.

The reason your family did not mind your relationship with him--is because it brought them a certain esteem. That their daughter was the only one who the next Shroud heir would actively communicate with. The Shrouds were still one, if not the most powerful family in the Isle after all.

“Bye.”

Idia flinched, and he frantically looked around for a place to hide.

“Idia?” He looked up and noticed that you were looking at him with a startled expression, before it slipped to an exhausted one.

“You heard...?”

“A bit.” he croaked out. “Is that... why you were so sad?”

“You noticed?” He frowned at that.

“Of course I did... we’re... friends, right?” you studied him carefully, and he felt like he was in a boiler room or something--he was sweating a lot.

“Yeah we are.” you then slid down to the ground, and tucked your skirt underneath you. You looked up at him expectantly, and he hastily sat down next to you.

“So they’re pressuring you right now.” Idia stated.

“Yeah.”

“With Adonis.”

“Yeah...” you groaned, as you raised your hands to your temples. “they could’ve chosen anyone.. but they chose that narcissistic... arse.”

“Who are the other offers?” Idia asked, and you mumbled out a bunch of names he recognized. Hey, he might not be active in the social sphere, but he was aware on who was who.

“Adonis is...” Idia paused, “well in terms of social standing, I guess.”

“Yeah. Unless someone of higher status proposes, there’s nothing I can do.” you mumbled.

“What about me?” You whirled your head to look at Idia. “W-what--? You?” You cleared your throat, “I mean...that... I...”

“Oh.” Idia blinked in surprise. “No! NO! Wait! I meant, why--what was your mother saying about me?” Your face flushed red, and Idia found your flustered expression cute. You rarely showed that face.

“Oh you know, same old, same old.” you grumbled as you fanned your face with a hand. “Just... criticizing you... and all that.”

“Well... I can guess what she said, and... she’s probably... not wrong.” You turned to him with the same ferocity that you had done earlier.

“No Idia, don’t you dare speak of yourself as that. Don’t you dare listen to the elites on Lamentation. They couldn’t be even more wrong about you.”

“But--”

“No buts.” you narrowed your eyes, and he flinched at the sight of your fury. “You are an amazing person--you’re smarter than they think and you create some pretty amazing things. Sure you could stand to go out more and make friends--but when you’re focused on your craft...” you paused, and you expression softened. Idia wondered what you were remembering. “You are so amazing. I hate how they don’t see that.” His breath hitched.

“You really mean that?”

“Of course I do! I love you--your work.” you coughed in response. The two of you went silent, before you sighed and picked yourself up. He looked up at you, and you shot him the same sad smile you had--all those years back, when the problems of today seemed like distant nightmares.

“Thank you for listening to me, Idia.” you said, “and I’m sorry to bother you with my problems.”

“I... I’m your friend right?”

“... Yes.”

“So please... don’t worry about it [Name].” he looked away uncomfortably. “I may complain sometimes...”

“Sometimes?”

“Okay, all the time.” he said grouchily, and you giggled--which made it all the more worth it. “...even if I complain all the time--you’re still my precious friend.”

You smiled, leant down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

When you pulled back, Idia was stuttering, and turning red.

“Thank you, Idia.”

After you left Ignihyde, he sat back at his computer and began typing out an email.

For you--whose smile was so precious to him...

Idia knew that he liked you. A lot.

He probably already loved you really.

And judging from the way you reacted--

maybe it was mutual...?

Dear Lord and Lady [Surname],

The Most Ancient and Noble House of Shroud would like to extend an offer of engagement between your daughter, [Name] [Surname] and our heir, Lord Idia Shroud...

"Oh no.” one of the Garden Academy students, dressed in the aquamarine colors of House Sage--House of Spirituality, turned to Lilia with a frown. “We’re missing one of our fellow House Sage classmates... give us a moment, we’ll go find her.”

Lilia’s lips only curled upward.

“Would her name happen to be [Name] [Surname]?”

“Yes.” the student blinked in surprise. “That would be her.”

“Ah.” Lilia smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s fine. I’m sure he’s gone to find her already.”

The Garden Academy students shared a glance.

The most Malleus knew was that majority of the Student Body had gone off to the Mirror Chamber for some event. He didn’t know, after all, he hadn’t been invited.

So he had decided to go on a long walk, internally unamused that he was once more forgotten when he sensed it--

Your presence.

It was in the gentle caress of the wind against his face, in the rustle of the leaves, and in the soft warmth of the sun.

One moment he was incredibly unhappy, and in the next second--he felt your magic touch his.

It was like a ripple--and it soothed his entire being.

You and your magic--he wondered if you knew the extent of your effect on him.

He began to walk deep into the forest.

He paused in his step as he caught sight of you. You had sat down in a patch of sunlight in the small meadow. You were surrounded by some creatures of the forest--from bears to deers and rabbits. You looked completely serene--as you should--after all, you were one of the most powerful nature fae living. Coming from your head were horns--but nothing like his. Yours were shorter, and much more like tree branches. As you hummed idly to yourself, a few birds fluttered forward and decorated your horns with small flowers. Your smile brightened the clearing, and the birds--pleased--chirped a song that you instantly began to hum along with.

How he wished he could draw closer to you without disrupting the peace--animals didn’t do well with Malleus. They inherently knew how powerful he was--and though the same could be said about what they sensed from you--your powers were much more attuned to nature in itself. To be by your side--it would be peace for the animals.

‘ He could understand. By your side, there were no pressures to be anyone else other than himself.’

As he stepped into the clearing, all the animals turned to look at him, and tensed. You blinked in surprise at their actions, before you turned your head to see Malleus at the far edge of the small clearing you were in.

“Mal.” you greeted, your startled expression slipped into a sweet, happy one. “It has been a long time.” Malleus inclined his head. “Won’t you come close, dear friend?” you raised a hand, beckoning him to come closer.

He eyed the animals around you warily.

“I don’t think they will enjoy that.” You let out a soft laugh at his deadpanned statement. Your laugh seemed to instantly calm most of the animals down (he could feel his tensed shoulders unknot too). You looked around you and began to speak to them.

“Now now everyone--Mal is a dear friend. I grew up with him. He’s a good person. Won’t you all please be patient with him?” The animals around you shuffled uneasily.

You looked up again and gestured for Malleus to draw closer once more. Malleus approached slowly at first, and once he realized that none of the animals would be disrupted, easily slid down beside you. One of the male deers leaned forward to sniff him--and Malleus held as still as possible. Apparently satisfied, the deer relaxed beside Malleus. Around him, the animals slipped back to their relaxed states.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” One particularly ambitious rabbit hopped up onto your lap and peered inquisitively at Malleus. You smiled, and began to brush your fingers through the animal’s hair.

“[Name], not that I’m unhappy to see you but...” He began, “what are you doing here?”

“My school, the Garden Academy is having an exchange program with your school.” you peered up curiously at your childhood friend. “Did you not hear?”

“As per usual, I do believe people have forgotten to inform me.” he frowned slightly. “Then... this would be the event being held at the Mirror Chamber, then?” You nodded.

“The event should still be ongoing.” Malleus eyed you curiously, but you spread your arms wide in response.

“The trees told me that some creatures were excited to see me.” You said--and the animals all made noises of agreement, “so I thought to visit them already.”

“Will your classmates and teacher not worry then?” You giggled at his questions.

“I appreciate the concern Mal but.. there’s nothing here that can harm me.” you said simply, and he hummed in acknowledgement--you were right.

You were perhaps the one person Malleus could consider an equal.

You had grown up side by side--and he was more than aware of your power and capabilities.

If there was one person who knew him as well as Lilia--it was you. You had seen him at his best and his worst--you were there when he could barely control his own magical power. He hadn’t been good at dampening his own energy back then--nobody ever approached him out of fear for the amount of power he had. The only one who bothered to interact with him had been Lilia, who had been his designated caretaker and...

And you.

You had no reason to be by his side when he had been his most volatile.

But you had been there.

And you stuck by him with no hesitation.

“How about you?” You glanced at the dragon fae from the edge of your eye.

“Ah. I wasn’t invited.” he answered with a sigh, and you could see the discontent in the almost, unnoticeable, wrinkle between his brows. You--who knew him so well--could spot the tiniest giveaways to Malleus’s moods--it was a skill you were proud of.

You were someone who occupied an almost identical role to Malleus. All that differs from the two of you is the type of magic you possessed.

As a dragon fae, and a descendant of the Witch of Thorns--it was easy to predict the type of power Malleus would eventually manifest. Draconic transformation and dark magic. This made people fear him, and dislike interacting with him.

As a nature fae, and a descendant of the Spirit of the Willow--most knew that you would grow to have power attuned with nature. It explained why you could speak the language of the trees and flowers--why animals adored you. To others--people saw you as harmless.

Perhaps in the beginning, you hadn’t really thought too much of your similarities. As years passed however--you realized how unfair the world was to Malleus.

They never saw the boy who sneezed and set Lilia’s hair on fire, they never acknowledged the man who treasured his Gao Gao Dragon toy--because it adored him as is. They didn’t allow Malleus to make mistakes, they didn’t allow Malleus to be vulnerable. They refused to see past this idea of a strong magician and the title of prince.

You reached forward and cupped his cheek. He turned to look at you quizzically.

“Then... should we have our own event?” You smiled, a tad bit more mischievous. You looked down at the animals. “Would you be willing to help out, my friends?”

The bunny in your lap twitched its nose in response, and a lot of the animals eagerly leaned closer.

“An event, like a party--to celebrate our reunion?” You glanced at Malleus to see him look on in curiosity. It seemed like the animals understood the idea of a party and began to move. You noticed the the female animals were the ones who specifically pulled you away, and when you glanced at Malleus--you noticed the the male animals began to surround him. He shot you a desperate look, but you only laughed.

“Let’s have fun!”

The male animals had weaved flowers together on top of Malleus’s head. Another animal had gotten several leaves, and put them together to form a long cape. He had no idea how the animals were doing it--but he just assumed it was because you were magic.

One of the birds flew over, and chirped loudly--which the animals took as a sort of signal. They all stopped and studied what they had done to Malleus. They began to make displeased noises, until one of the deers pushed a long stick towards Malleus. When he picked it up, he looked to the animals to see that they were all still unsatisfied. To humor them, He unclipped his pen from his breast pocket and waved it. He used the foliage that had fallen to the ground to decorate the stick--and craft it into a staff similar to his own.

“Is it good?” he asked, and the animals all vigorously gave their assent. At that, he could feel his lips curl up. The bird chirped again, and the animals snapped into action. One of the bucks nudge Malleus forward with his snout. “Ah, is it time to go back?” the birds make a pleasant chirping sound, and he allowed himself to be pushed back into the clearing.

He found himself in the clearing again--with all the male animals standing by his side. He thought briefly of what an amusing sight this probably was, until another bird chirped from the opposite side of the clearing. He raised his gaze that way, as a bunch of female birds flew in, and dropped flower petals onto the ground. The smaller animals came in first, followed by the younger fauns--and finally--

You stepped forth into the light of the clearing, and he found his breath caught in his throat. While the flowers on his form were restricted to his crown--the animals had chosen to decorate your whole form with it. Unlike the flower crown you were wearing earlier--this one had a train that fell to the ground, and billowed around you--making you all the more ethereal. Escorted on either side by the tall, elegant form of does--you resembled the idea of a Fae Queen with her animal court. As you came to a stop beside Malleus, you giggled at his surprised expression. He felt something tug on his pants, and when he looked down--he found a squirrel made exaggerated gestures towards you.

“Ah.” he looked up and met your curious gaze. “You look beautiful, [Name].” And he did mean it--for the centuries that he had known you, and the centuries he had yet to share with you--he knew that one thing would remain constant--the way you made his heart skip a beat, and the way you were beauty in everything you did.

“Thank you, Malleus. You look handsome” you blushed. That’s when you were both nudged forward by the deers, and were now much closer. One of the deers, snatched the staff in his hand. The birds fluttered around you, pulling your sleeves into place until finally--both you and Malleus were moved to a waltz pose. You stared into each other’s eyes, stunned. Malleus wondered briefly is animals were truly capable of sensing feelings he had--that even he had yet to fully comprehend.

“Shall we?” he offered, and you beamed in response. The birds began to sing, and the two of you proceeded to dance in the clearing.

“I think they enjoyed themselves, too much.”

“Did you have fun?” Malleus asked gently, and you smiled.

“I did but...” you curiously peered up at him. “Did you have fun?”

“I suppose I did.” He mused.

The other animals watched on--pleased.

Though neither of you saw it--blissfully caught up in enjoying your dance--they did. They could see the future King and Queen of Faeries.

#aiwrites #aiscenarios #ai dati series #ai tga verse #female reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #twst kalim #twst vil #twst idia #twst malleus

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magikkittenz · 4 years

Text

Denied Sweets

Warnings: Crying, tantrum throwing

Relationships: Romantic Intrulogical, Familial Intruloceit

Word Count: 804

AO3

Summary: Janus wants cookies and Remus has a very hard time saying no

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

Remus panicked going back and forth trying to look for the cookies. Jan was currently sitting at the table, crying and whining for one. Logan had tried to get Remus to enforce stricter rules and to stop him from indulging in their son’s cookie munching habit, but Remus couldn’t help it. Janus was too cute to be denied a cookie, and it absolutely broke the man’s heart when he saw the child upset.

Said child was in his chair, slamming his hands on the table and crying louder, sniffling brokenly. Remus dove into the pantry, trying his best to look for the cookie jar. He suspected Logan most likely hid it before he went to work. He huffed and walked outside defeatedly, slumping in front of his son’s chair. “Hey baby,” he said with a defeated and careful smile.

Jan was having none of it. Seeing his dad come out with not a single cookie in his hand, he started to wail, babbling what was most certainly the curse words Remus had taught him. The man sighed and walked over to him, sitting beside him. He tried to pick Janus up in an attempt to calm him but the little serpent shook his head wildly, blowing a raspberry at his father.

“Wh-where th’ cookie?!” he demanded, taking one tiny hand and rubbing his cheeks to clear away the tears.

“I’m sorry baby, there’s no cookies,” he said quietly.

Janus seemed even more unhappy at the answer and started crying again, boarding on screaming. Remus sat there, not quite sure what to do before finally deciding to pick Janus up despite the protests. What did Logan do again to resolve these kinds of issues? Oh, right, discipline. But he couldn’t do that to Jan. Remus looked at his son’s small helpless face, sadness and frustration written all over it and he sat down on the couch, cradling the toddler. Janus tried pushing against his father, wanting out of the embrace. “No hug! Wan’ cookies!” he sobbed, sniffling furiously.

Using the encouraging words Logan gave him this morning about denying Janus cookies, he slowly sat up straight, looking right at the child. “Janus, you can’t have any cookies,” he said as firmly as he could.

Surprisingly, the toddler stopped crying, instead looking up at his dad in disbelief. He sat there, dumbfounded and silent for so long Remus started to freak out; did he break him?

Luckily, after 5 minutes Janus slowly moved his head into Remus’ chest, crying now of sadness rather than frustration. He gripped Remus’ shirt and batted him with his small hand, which didn’t do as much damage as he intended. “Why-why no cookie da’?” he sniffled and hiccuped. “I wan’ cookie! P-pwease? Da’ pwease?”

Remus was shocked and willed himself not to look down at his son’s face. He knew if he did he would go on a rampage to find that damn cookie jar, even if he had to destroy the house to do it. Janus cried so desperately into Remus that the man felt tears springing in his own eyes, his heart shattering into a million pieces. He swallowed thickly and said, “Because your papa said you eat too many, my little serpent. You can only have one cookie a day, remember what he said? And only after you eat your dinner.”

Janus whimpered, his crying going down. “Papa ‘s stupid,” he said grumpily, making Remus laugh.

“Don’t worry, you can be mad at him when he gets home,” he said quietly, stroking his fingers through Janus’ hair.

His son made a noise of affirmation as if he were determined to make sure he did so. He shifted slightly and looked up at his dad. “Ar’ you ma’ a’ me da’?” he asked timidly.

Remus smiled down at him fondly and kissed his forehead. “I’m not my small snek. Are you mad at me?”

Janus shook his head firmly, leaning in and giving Remus a kiss on the cheek in return. “Do you wanna watch a Disney movie until papa gets home?”

Jan nodded excitedly and carefully got off of Remus’ lap, heading towards the dvd cabinet. To pick a movie out.

Following that afternoon when Logan came home he found Remus and Janus passed out, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over them. Remus was lying on his back with their son on his stomach while the movie played in the background. With a sigh and a smile Logan quietly turned the tv off, pressing a gentle kiss to his husband’s lips and a kiss to his son’s cheek. Later on when Janus woke up, he would have to deal with an angry, grudge-holding 4-year-old, but right now, as he sat down on the ground next to the couch, he simply relaxed with his family.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #intrulogical #intruloceit #familial intruloceit #baby!janus #child!janus #fic #writing #tw food mention #squish-writes

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yoursinfulurges · 4 years

Text

Toxin and Venom

Slight Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!Reader

Description:

In which a seemingly loving relationship appears greater than it is...

There was something rather terrible about this young man's naive exterior. Though nobody could pinpoint where exactly the dreadfulness laid. His eyes shined a little too brightly, and his words were coated in thick sugar, enough to appear disingenuous to the skillfully trained ears. But there hidden behind is smile concealed the sinister morals of a true manipulator.

Oh' but she was no better herself, twisting words to favour her narrative. Playing as if she was nothing more than a meek little prey.

Warnings: pure angst with an underlining layer of toxicity.

Disclaimer: This is a REWRITE of one of my old stories dated back to a year ago, so if it sounds familiar that is why. This story was originally written for Jung Jaehyun from NCT but seeing as though I've fallen out of love with kpop at the moment, I wanted to repurpose it for my new followers that I've harbored since The Venom Within, as I'm very proud of the way it was written and concluded that I wanted to share with you all. I did improve and change quite a lot so you won't be reading the exact same story and I decided to add a twist to it.

Note: This is more so a college au so the fact that Peter is Spiderman is insignificant...

Word Count: 4.k

_____________

Your boyfriend, Peter, had always been the most kind and caring person you knew. Ever since you met him, and even after months of dating, he still acted like the bashful, kind Disney prince you took him for. Only treating you with nothing but respect and admiration; you often wondered if this boy was even capable of making an insult, or had a bad bone in his body. Fore he acts way too nice and sweet for his own good. Controlling at times but it was with all good intentions...

Originally, you thought the kind gestures and lovely sweet talking was his way of subtly flirting, but after years of dating him, you came to the realization that it was just simply him. Peter didn't need to pretend to be kind and sweet like other guys; given that it was like second nature for him. You loved the boy to death. He showered you with so much love, spoiled you with affection. Treated you like his queen; His shining jewel. Out of the two years that you'd been together, not once has he wronged you.

That is, up until this exact moment...

You stand there in the middle of the kitchen, tears streaming down your cheeks. At this point you had stopped listening to what he was saying. In fear that if you continued to listen to his harsh words, more of your love would begin to fleet away, and you couldn't afford to lose any more. Despite of all your excessive yelling, you loved Peter. And he meant so much to you. But seeing him in this state, angry and hostile, attacking you viciously with his words, you began to question your future with him.

You couldn't quite fathom what brought on this newfound aggression in your relationship. Though, you had a slight seeking suspicion that it was from all the post-exam stress you both had to endure. Weeks upon weeks of studying and sleepless nights finally took its toll on the both of you. Thus bringing you to this exact moment in time. The once loving home corrupted by the harsh spoken words that fell from both of your lips. Anger and aggression filling the room, space welcoming the negativity with open arms. You had both tainted it...

That was not the boy you fell in love with, but instead somebody meaner, a-kind to venom...

Then again, you weren't a saint yourself either, words you wouldn't have ever thought of saying spilled out of your mouth like toxin. You needed to do something fast to mend your relationship back together...

The mere thought of breaking up with the man hurts you so dearly. You just wanted your loving boyfriend back from what ever abyss he dissapeared off to. Typically your fights never lasted this long, but this one proved to be quite challenging. You just wanted him to stop yelling. But in fear of the unthinkable outcome of your protest, you kept shut and held onto the remaining pieces of your heart. You knew for a fact that Peter would never dear to lay a hand on you, so you tried very desperately to push those thoughts aside. However, his following statements made both tasks very difficult. It was as if he was challenging your composure. Like he wanted the flood gates broken.

Like he wanted you to cave in to the malicious voice whispering in your ear...

His words could've very well be from all the stress, ..or pent up insults and remarks that he'd been silently keeping in. You had no way of telling. You prayed and hoped that it was the first one rather than the assuming latter. Because maybe then, you would consider forgiving him. Even though the words punctured you like bullets, penetrating your inner layers and hurting you in more ways than one. This was not your Peter... You questioned the morals behind his words, were they intended to hurt you, or was it just in the heat of the moment. Regardless, you knew that his words would be something that lingered on forever in your head.

"I don't even know why I stayed this long with you, honestly! What do I even see in you! Stop being so unreasonable! You're easily replaceable, so i don't see why you're acting so high and mighty. News flash y/n, i could do a lot better!"

And there it was...

His current state and demeanor rivalled that of which the one you used to know. The soft spoken, kind, sweet, shy Peter. The one that still plays with legos despite being nineteen years old. You'd give anything to have him back...

You always knew that Peter could do better, but hearing this from him was a lot different than you saying it to yourself in your head. Before you had started dating you knew he had a chance with Michelle. She was a very pretty girl that went to your university, she was also Peter's chem partner... Michelle was nice, smart, and talented. You were very aware of the little 'thing' they had going on. So to your surprise, when you heard rumors of a certain Peter Parker, looking to ask you out, you almost didn't believe. Hell, you laughed straight into Brad's face and told him he was delusional. If only a hesitant, blush faced Peter wasn't stood right behind you to prove you wrong.

Ever since that day, you questioned Peter's choice. Why did he choose you, when he could've had a chance with Michelle? Someone he was more compatible with... You figured that he saw something special in you that nobody else did. Though, his previous statement proves you wrong and tells you that he doesn't even know why he gave you a chance. You're at a drift, not knowing where this relationship is headed, or where to stand. Knowing that you were replaceable to Peter weakens you. Were you really that insignificant to him? Were you a chore to be around? If so then why did he stay for two years? All these questions ran through your mind as you're frozen in a state of shock. How do you follow such a thing?

You stand silently, wails threatening to break free from your lips, as you shake. Instantly covering your mouth with your palm. You watch as he screamed at you more, words blocked out by the ringing in your ears. Truthfully, you were glad you couldn't hear his words, not knowing how to reciprocate to any more of his personal attacks.

The familiar feeling of despair began to conjure in the pit of your stomach. The tightness in your chest began to focus on your beating heart, constricting you like a boa preying on its meal. Everything around you became a hazy blur as the non stop ringing became more prominent. The cause being your angry boyfriend and his heart-wrenching words. Jolts of anxiety began to climb up from your figure tips, like a thousand spiders crawling on your skin. A feeling you know all too well crept up from behind you. You were beginning to feel frantic and scared, as your breathing became unstable.

You were becoming erratic, desperate to end the fight and be in his arms again.

"What!? Huh, not gonna clap back with some snarky remark. Admit it, you know im right!"

Peter's face was a striking shade of scarlet while he paced back and forth, hands finding themselves tangled in his hair as he mumbled inaudible words. His hair, you remember running your hands through his curly, brown locks this morning when you woke up. Oh, how happy and blissful you both were twelve hours prior to this moment. You both were so content and hopeful with the prospect of your relationship. Being able to finally spend time with each other after a stressful week. Originally, you had planned a date night with Peter. But things began to make a turn for the worse when he began to insult every little thing you did. Now here you were, an hour and forty-five minutes late for your reservations.

A taste for bitterness began to fill your mouth, as your insides churned. Waves of sadness and despair hit you like a tsunami. You suddenly couldn't stand the thought of staying in the same room as Peter. Let alone sleeping in one. Fore his words had impacted you like an arrow through the heart. You felt sick, disgusted, vulnerable, and above all else, hurt.

"God, you're such a fucking bitch sometimes!" Peter spat, but soon after stopped, noticing your sudden change in demeanor. Your once, fuming and aggressive facade was replaced with a much more subdued, fragile, hurt exterior, mirroring how you felt inside. You had given up. The bandage that held your heart together snapped.

You looked up at him, hurt written all over your face. Instantly, Peter rushed your way. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, apologize for calling you a bitch. But stopped when you held your hand out and shook your head, a sob erupting from your mouth. Suddenly, all the hurtful things Peter said rang through his own head.

Oh...

Shit!

"Baby, I-" He started, not knowing how to follow. His mouth suddenly became dry, letting out a sigh of regret. Voice coming out weak and pained. His chest tightening at the sight of what he has done to you. No no no no no no.... Peter knew you weren't the type to forgive and forget. Even if you both manage to somehow recover from this, he knew that his words would always be in your head. You would constantly doubt yourself and his transparency, thinking if it was all an act.

Regret began to eat away at him once again when he noticed your uneven breathing. Another punch in his gut when he took note of your shaking. Peter's eyes quickly darted to yours, his heart breaking when he saw the amount of fear in them. He was uncertain if you were scared of him or your emotions. He wanted it to be the second one. Peter never wanted you to see him in that light. Yet here you were, having an anxiety attack because of him...

He knew that feeling all too well, having suffered from anxiety of his own, but the fact that he was the one to force you into that state shattered him..

"Don't call me that...." You spat coldy, backing away slowly into your shared bedroom. Making sure he didn't follow and locking the door. Once in the cozy room, you sob like la llorona conveying grief. You couldn't bear to see all the happy pictures of you two, when he said so himself, you're nothing special to him. Without thinking, you began to rip off every Polaroid, framed pictures, and drawings from the walls. Not caring of ripping them. You threw them all on the floor. Your vision becoming clouded by tears as you sob. Ruining the white fabric of your oversized sweater with your makeup contaminated tears.

Your body halts, the last remaining picture was of the both of you on your first date. You always considered that day as the happiest moment of your life. But now knowing that you're just a pit stop in Peter's life, the memory manifests into something much darker than obsidian.

You inhale as you looked at the picture one more time. It was you kissing Peter on the cheek. He donned a beautiful cheshire smile, his freckles displaying proudly under the sunlight. He wore a red, hooded sweatshirt with his hero, Iron man's logo depicted on the top right corner. You always love it when he wore sweaters, especially that one. You remembered every emotion you felt as the picture was being taken. Even if you didn't, your expression held it all. You radiated happiness as the butterflies in your stomach became restless. You were so happy...

You sob lightly, your thumb caressing his face as you looked fondly at the picture. Suddenly, words that fell from his mouth earlier replayed in your head. He had purposely attacked your deepest insecurities. Jabbed and taunted you. The Peter you knew would never result to something so cruel and petty. Without putting much thought into it, you began to take the picture out of its frame.

Your ears perking up when you hear the familiar sound of the lock being picked. The jiggling of the doorknob was something you grew accustomed to. Having locked yourselves out of the bedroom on more than one occasion....

Taking one final breath, you rip the picture in two and retreated into the master bathroom. Once the door was slammed shut and locked, all hell broke loose. As if it couldn't have gotten worse alright. Your wails grew louder and more repetitive that you were being to sound like a banshee, mourning for her decaying heart. Eventually, you found yourself curled up in the bathtub, suppressing your cries into your knees as you lowered your head.

Peter finally succeeds in picking the lock, after what seemed like hours, and once he creaked opened the door of your shared bedroom, his heart broke in two. Parts of him began to deteriorate, he wished he had never said those hurtful things. He felt numb and out of touch with reality, sensing his anxiety looming over his shoulder. Peter knew that one of your biggest insecurities was never meaning much to somebody. And that weren't fond of feeling worthless and neglected. He knew your background and upbringing well enough to know just how much you disliked being treated as such.

All he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and kiss your tears away. A pool of sadness brimmed his eyes as he evaluates the damage. From one corner of the room to the other, pictures were left scattered and discarded. The framed drawings of him that you illustrated, sat on the floor of your bedroom, frame cracked and shattered. The Polaroids he held ever so dearly to his heart, littered the bed and floor. He broke down in tears when he sees the torn picture of you both.

How could you vandalize such a treasured memory. But then again, how could he hurt the most precious thing in his life. Seeing the picture ripped apart like this, he knew that somehow he affected your perspective on this whole relationship. His previous words had tainted such beloved memories, and twisted them to seem like nothing more than a one-sided love. He made you question whether he truly loved you or not. Suddenly the realization kicked in, and it kicked in hard. A tsunami of guilt and regret pierced through is heart. His insides churned and it suddenly became very hard to breathe. He suddenly became really aware of how dire this situation was. His following actions may break your relationship if he didn't act wisely.

Peter bends down to hold your piece of the puzzle, a river flow of heart ache cascading down his cheeks, wetting the captured image of you. Your sobs, which had begun to sound like cries of help, due to lack of air, rang threw Peter's ears. Suddenly he grew extremely concerned and rushed to the door, dropping your image.

Immediately, you stop when you heard soft knocks coming from the other end of the door, which was soon followed by cries and sniffling sounds.

"Baby, open the door!" You don't comply with his words and stayed seated in your place, hugging your knees tighter.

"W-what are you gonna do if i don't? Pick the lock and violate my privacy! Just go away P-peter! W-why don't you go find another girl to replace me, because apparently, i-i mean nothing to you!" Screaming at the inanimate door, or more so the person behind it, as you let out a cut short wail. You hated yourself for how weak and broken you sounded. Wishing, you could drown out his stupid words that had already engraved itself deep in your brain.

"Y-you said s-so yourself! I'm easily replaceable! I-if i had known that this relationship was just gonna be one sided then i would've never wasted my time!" Apparent in your tone and words how truly distraught you were, Peter cried harder, cold sweats engulfing his body. He winced at the thought of how broken you were. It only lead him to wonder, what exactly happened and what brought on this fight. Sounding more so a statement rather than a question in his head.

He parted his lips softly, a small whimpering sigh rolling off his tongue.

"Please y/n, just open the door. I-i just want to see you. Please... I-I need to know that you're okay...." his words laced with mixed emotions, such as sorrow and remorse. Despite his current emotional state, Peter's stature looked anything else but composed. God, he was freaking out..

Incoherently mumbling a soft 'please' as he laid his forehead onto the wood door. His hand resting above his head, fist balled tightly, as if ready to start pounding. He was desperate, eyes screwing shut tightly causing a flow of tears to glide down his cheeks. Peter's jaw clenched tightly in frustration, as he beat himself over and over again for saying such things.

After much hesitance, you stood up and made your way to the door. Peter hears the small shuffle and quickly straightens himself out. After seconds of hovering your hand over the knob, you twist it open, instantly unlocking itself and setting free all the pent up emotions. You crack open the door, almost immediately, Peter rushes in and hugs you.

You don't return the hug, silently stiffening in his arms. At that moment, the last few bits of composure you had built back up snaps loose. You become a crying mess in Peter's arms. Feelings of unmeasurable sadness cascade down your cheeks, onto his black long sleeve shirt. You try and push him away, but fail due to his strength. His muscular arms constricting you as if you would fade away.

"Listen to me please." He says softly, tears lightly streaming down his cheeks, though, not to the caliber of yours.

You sniffle lightly, thrashing in his arms. Though, it was no use, his hold was so secure that no amount of resistance would break you free. So, you could do nothing else but endure what he has to say.

"I'm sorry-

Sorry doesn't fix anything Peter, it's just a word!" The teary-eyed male hissed at your words. The amount of hurt and venom your tone held was enough to make his jaw clench and his hold to tighten.

"I know it doesn't, but it's a start. L-look, i didn't mean to say that. I don't know what came over me, or what caused me to say those things. But what i do know is that they were a hundred percent untrue. And i want you to know that..." He pauses briefly to wipe away your tears with his thumb. Dipping his head into the crook of your neck. He took in your floral scent, hoping it would help him regain composure. You feel a tug on your heart at how utterly hurt and small he sounded.

"I love you with all my heart, and that you are the most unique girl I've ever met... If anything i don't know how i even managed to get a girlfriend as beautiful and amazing as you..... Wanna know why I'm with you?" You nod lightly into his chest. His hold readjust itself as he lays his head above yours. Almost content with your slight gesture, but he needed to be sure you were happy.

"It's because you accept me for who i am. You don't pressure me to be perfect all the time, you welcome my flaws with open arms; don't expect anything from me and shower me with so much love everyday... I want you to know that i could never replace you, not that i would ever want to. How did i ever get so lucky... Please y/n, you are one of the most important people in my life.... I-i can't loose you too..." Peter couldn't fathom a future with out you in it. He grew frantic, thinking that this day could be the last together. And that there would be a slight chance that you didn't want to forgive him again. He couldn't let that happen...

"Please say something...." He sighed whilst tears brimmed his eyes, taking your tightening hold on his shirt to keep moving forward.

"Do you remember when we first started dating, that night i texted you that i was frustrated and my anxiety was acting up... And you came over in a heart beat, even though you lived fifteen minutes away... Y-you told me to let it all out, and i cried in your arms for an hour, complaining about everything. I felt so ashamed for crying in front of you, but you told me that i was so brave for accepting my feelings... I know what i said must've hurt you a lot, but I'll do better... I'm sorry for triggering you like that." Peter's tone was barely above whisper, and if he hadn't have said it directly above your ear, you would've missed it. There he was... your Peter....

You thought back to the said memory and smiled fondly, that was the night you both realized that you wanted a more serious title on your relationship. Finally labeling each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. You thought back to all the happy memories you both shared and confirmed that a silly little fight wouldn't get the best of you. Yes, his words might've hurt, but his actions now out ways all of his petty insults. You give into your flourishing heart and forgive him.

Backing away from his chest lightly, you look up at him, gasping slightly at his blood shot eyes. You hesitatly reach up to cup both of his cheeks. Wiping away the remaining tears that streamed down his face. He smiled lightly and leaned into your touch, taking one of your hands in his and place a soft, delicate kiss on it.

"We'll be okay...." You smiled at his comforting words before planting a passionate, loving kiss on his lips. Peter smiled lightly before taking your wrist on his hold and guiding them to wrap around his neck. He deepens the kiss and pulls you closer by your waist.

It was then that he realized that he wanted you to be the only women in his life. And that he wanted nobody else. Suddenly feeling an overly compelling urge in his heart to make up for his actions overcomes him. He was determined to trap you in his web of love again. He couldn't loose you too...

You smile in content,

portraying the victim always worked...

'Indeed, we'll be just fine.....'

Perhaps they were both awful people, fooling each other with the reality they both created. But it was done with the intent of love, sick twisted love... He was possessive and she was insecure. And together they were toxin and venom... God forbid anything that tries to get in between them...

_____________

End Note:

For those that don't understand, take notice in Peter's words and how drastically different they are from when he was mad to when he was apologizing. Sweet at first glance but if you really dig deep you'd notice how sugar coated everything seemed, like he's saying what you want to hear. And as for the Reader, I purposely left out how much she contributed to the fight in the beginning to make it seem as though she was the victim, when in reality she was also at fault. The anxiety aspect of this story was very much 'real' since I described what it felt like for me and I wanted her to suffer from anxiety yet have something be a little off. Now, I'm not claiming that the bedroom part was a whole scene to feed her victim persona, but that's up to how you want to view it. This story is subjective and can be taken however way you want to.

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Fragmentation Fanfic

Title: Fragmentation

Summary: Once Upon a Time, a Bold-and-Boisterous Prince sits on a throne. A Bold-and-Boisterous Prince has a great fall. A Hallowed Heart finds him in pieces and a Studious Scholar puts the Prince back together again. Or.

A broken crown lies in an empty throne room. A Shrewd Snake and a Shy Spiderling enter the throne room. Only there isn’t just a broken crown awaiting them, there’s a broken boy. All the words and all the actions can’t put the boy back together again, but a listening ear and a comforting embrace softens the pain. Or.

If a mirror shatters into two pieces, which one is the original piece?

Word-Count: 2.9k

Pairings: Platonic Moralogince, Platonic Anxceitmus

Warnings: Angst, Crying, Panic, Murder Mention, Death Mention, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending Kinda?, No Unsympathetic Sides At Worst Morally Grey

Hi, anyone remember the random ficlet I posted in pieces months back that ended all happily? Well, I expanded upon it and here we are. Or in other news, here’s my take on a Split Fic, and it’s not your typical take in my humble opinion.

A clatter echoed in the throne room. A golden crown laid cracked in two. A soft thud followed it as a red sash carelessly engulfed the crown. An exhale, long and strained. Silence. Then a sob as a prince fell to the ground, shattering.

A battered and beaten Heart came along searching for the Prince. He called out his name, searching the castle high and low. But the Prince did not answer nor did the Heart catch a glimpse of him. When the Heart entered the throne room, he kept his gaze on the empty throne. It was not until his foot caught on something that he drew his attention to the marble floor.

“Oh my!” the Heart gaped, eyes watering, “Oh dear!”

Lying at the Heart’s feet, was the fragmented remains of the once bold and boisterous Prince. The Heart touched a piece, a chill pulsing through him at its cold, ceramic touch.

Great globs of tears fell down the Heart’s face as he toppled to the floor in anguish.

He gathered the pieces close to his chest, trying to put the beloved Prince back together again. But for all the Heart’s earnest efforts, the pieces only fractured and splintered into more.

The Heart placed his head into his hands, shaking. He was not good enough to save the Prince. Worse than that, he not only failed but he had damaged the Prince further. He could feel his insides growing frayed, threatening to unravel and come unmade like the Prince himself.

But with a breath of air, he held it together. He may not have the ability to put back together the Prince, but perhaps the Scholar could.

The Scholar was smart. His idea of fun afternoon involved delving into complex, convoluted math theorems. Out of anyone in the realm of Thomas, the Heart trusted him most in solving the matter of the broken Prince.

Lifting a hand away from his face, the Heart summoned him. The Scholar arrived, completely oblivious. His eyes closed, hands tightly clasped around his bowtie. “Welcome to the Jungle, it’s so exciting--” the Scholar recited, in a spoken monotone measure.

The Heart pulled incessantly on the Scholar’s pants leg to grab his attention. This caused the Scholar to jump back, startled. His eyes flew open, trailing down at the Heart and then to the porcelain remains of the Prince.

Usually, the Scholar was never one at a loss for words. He was always the first to ask questions, to seek knowledge to better equip himself and others. But he kept staring at the scene before him, seemingly having lost the capability of speech.

Then a strange stifled noise came from the Scholar. As if there was a blockage in his lungs, a spear that punctured all the air out of them. But of course, there was no spear sticking out of his chest. No logical reason for such a noise to occur. With a face devoid of all emotion, the Scholar knelt down beside the Heart.

He picked up a piece, examining it with an analytical touch, short of licking it. Licking things was a very scientific tool. A tool he refrained from deploying at this moment.

“It’s him isn’t it?” The Scholar said at last, frowning, “But how? It does not make logical sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” The Heart piped up, “but his realm doesn’t tend to follow the rules of reality. But you can fix this, right? Undo wh–whatever this is?”

The Scholar frowned, eyeing the ceramic shards carefully.

“It is always easier to destroy than to create,” He began, “Or recreate in this instance. However, that does not mean it is improbable.”

A spark of hope ignited in Heart. So you can do it?!”

“I can try,” The Scholar amended, “There is, of course, a possibility it will not work at all.”

The Scholar placed the piece in his hand on the floor along with the rest. Then he stood up, outstretching a hand.

“You should get back.” He advised. The Heart nodded, scampering a few feet back for good measure.

Satisfied with this, the Scholar’s eyes glowed indigo as he called forth his power. Nonsensical, really, but it was how the Prince’s dominion interpreted him; a wizened wizard with a terrifying amount of power. The Scholar restored sensibility to its whimsy. He could reduce a magical unicorn to an average horse.

Something similar could be applied in this situation. He would take the shattered statue and return its original completely whole flesh-and-blood state. He just had to focus and recall every factual evidence he knew of the Prince. Chips and chunks of ceramic floated in the air, swirling as they came together again. At first the shape was ambiguous.

But as more and more pieces flew up, it became more apparent. A graceful swoop of auburn hair. A chiseled perfectly-formed jaw. A white tunic with a red sash spilling across the chest.

Bit by bit, their treasured prince was returning to them at last.

As the last piece fell into place, a bright light burst forth, filling up the entirety of the throne room. Both the Heart and the Scholar were knocked to the ground by its force. As quickly as it came, it faded.

“Ouch.” Heart murmured, still keeping a hand over his stinging eyes. The Scholar tried forcing his eyes open, but a wave of nausea hit him. He slumped back down, drained from the massive amount of energy he’d expended.

The sound of strutting boots reached both their ears, growing louder as it neared. Then it stopped.

“Helloooo?”

The Heart opened his eyes. Through his burning, black-spot riddled vision, the Prince’s befuddled face greeted him. Whole and complete with no signs of cracked lines running across his sun-kissed skin.

“Prince!” The Heart exclaimed, jumping to his feet to embrace him, “You’re okay!”

“Whoa!” The Prince said, holding out his arms for balance. He nearly collapsed regardless when a second set of arms engulfed him. Despite being adamant against physical touch, the Scholar was also…hugging him?

“Not that I don’t appreciate being lavished with displays of affection, I must ask–what in Walt Disney’s name is going on?”

“We thought we lost you!” The Heart wailed, “and that you wouldn’t ever be coming back!”

“Indeed, th-the possibility of you returning to your full stature was low.” The Scholar said, leaning heavily on the other two for support.

“Well that’s preposterous!” The Prince declared, bringing his arms around his friends, “You should know that a hero like myself could never die.”

“Pompous as always.” The Scholar snorted, but there was no true malice to it.

“Are you feeling alright?” The Heart queried.

“I’m right as rain!” The Prince said with a wide smile, “I admit, I’m very fuzzy on what happened, but I feel much better now.”

“That would make sense, seeing as we found you in actual pieces.”

The Heart sniffled, burying his head into the Prince’s tunic. “I love you two so much, you know that right?”

“Of course we know, you tell us this every day,” The Scholar responded. Neither Heart nor Scholar saw the hesitation dancing in the Prince’s eyes before it was overswept by a glimmering gleam.

“And we love you very much, Heart,” The Prince said, “Why, I’d fight a thousand dragons to keep you safe!”

The Heart giggled at this. Then wailed, leaving wet spots in the Prince’s pristine clothing. “Th--that’s lovely, but all I want is to cuddle with you and Scholar watching Disney movies and never ever ever let go!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Scholar said, “you’d have to let go at some point--”

“Scholar,” The Prince said, holding up a hand, “Not the time.”

The Prince then massaged the Heart’s scalp, carefully untangling his locks of hair. “My Dear Heart, I apologize. I didn't mean to distress you or the Scholar so. If that’s what you wish for me to do with you two for the rest of the night, I shall do that.”

“I would not be opposed to that.” The Scholar agreed, “As long as we go to bed at an appropriate time--”

“Then it’s settled!” The Prince exclaimed, “Come on, let us build the most magnificent blanket fort!”

With a snap of his fingers, the three vanished.

The throne room stood silent once more, absent of any apparent sentient life. All that remained was a dusty floor and a crown broken in two. It remained this way only just mere moments. For a Snake came slithering around, forked tongue sniffing the air. Scuttling after him came a Spiderling. All eyes and legs and not much else.

“Snake, why are we here?” The Spiderling asked, “This is the Prince’s domain! He won’t be happy if he finds us here!”

“Shush, Spiderling. Everything will be fineee.” Snake reassured, picking up the broken halves of the Prince’s golden crown. He examined them closely with a careful eye.

“Just because you say that doesn’t make it true!” Spiderling scowled, stomping a leg.

“If you’re so worried, you didn’t have to come.”

Spiderling mumbled something. The Snake raised an eyebrow, “Come again?”

“I came because I wanna protect you from getting hurt!” The Spiderling burst out, face flushing red.

“Aww, I despise you too,” The Snake cooed, ruffling Spiderling’s hair. The latter let out a shriek, hands flying to fix his hair at once.

“But you know I am totally a damsel-in-distress. Completely incapable of defending myself. Besides, surely you felt it too--the Disturbance.”

The Spiderling nodded, grimacing, “I felt Prince...he...is that his crown?!”

“Yes. Just like him to leave such a beloved possession broken and abandoned on the floor, hm?”

“Let me touch it,” The Spiderling pleaded. For he could draw the slightest hint of misery into himself with a simple touch. And with that misery, perhaps a glimpse into what tragedy befell the prince.

The Snake hesitated, before nodding his head. The Spiderling then stood up on the tippy-toes of his numerous legs, tracing one of his fingers on the remains of the crown lying in the Snake’s hands. A spark of anguish jolted the Spiderling at once.

He experienced a pounding, excruciating headache. A mind torn in two, attempting to entertain two polarizing ideas at once. Anger, sadness, frustration crashed down upon the Spiderling wave after wave. It sought to overwhelm, drive him to self-destruction like it had the young Prince.

The Spiderling cried out in pain, his hands cradling his face as he dropped to the floor. A series of metallic clangs followed and then the Snake was at his side.

“Spider!” The Snake cried, laying a cool hand on top of the Spiderling’s, “You’re okay, you’re fine, everything’s fineeeee.”

The Spiderling’s eyes glowed gold for a second, his face relaxing completely. Slowly, the gold left his eyes and he dug his face into the Snake’s satin vest with a whimper.

“I knew it, I knew I shouldn’t have allowed you to touch it,” The Snake said, stroking the other’s unruly mop of hair in a soothing manner.

“I’m okay,” The Spiderling grumbled, “Dealt with worse.”

“Lie.”

“M-maybe, but Prince, he’s--” The Spiderling hesitated, tears gathering in his eyes, “I think he’s dead!”

“I’m not!” A voice said, hauntingly cheery, “but I wish I was!”

Both Snake and Spiderling froze, each gazing at the throne room every which way. But besides themselves, there was no one else there.

The Snake’s slitted eye narrowed, “Who are you?”

“I’m the Prince!” The voice claimed, “Or at least, I was. Still am? It’s very unclear. I’m the pieces they forgot, the pieces nobody knew about! Hiding away, like an axe murderer hiding in a closet to kill you in your sleep!”

The Spiderling shuddered at the simile, both sets of arms clinging to Snake for dear life. He was very much content to allow Snake to do the talking for the two of them.

“What do you mean?” The Snake asked.

“Well, you see, I--the Prince--again, very confusing like that weird nightmare Thomas had about eating chocolate-covered teeth--had an argument with himself, ourselves? And his--my head hurt, like it was gonna explode! And so we did! Into itty bitty pieces of confetti and blood and guts!”

The Disturbance. The Snake’s blood ran cold at this. All this time the Prince was dealing with something on the levels of this, and he had no idea? How could the Snake not sense this hidden turmoil?

That was what the Snake was best at--knowing the jagged truths behind brightly-painted facades. If he’d known--he could’ve possibly helped--well, it didn’t matter now.

Out loud, the Snake simply deadpanned, “Delightful.”

“Isn’t it?!” The voice shrieked, two green eyes bulging with excitement, “Anywho, that’s when Mr. No Fun showed up and started boo-hooing. He tried to fix it, but he just made it worse! So that’s when he invited Smartypants to join the party.”

“Heart and Scholar?”

“Winner, winner, chicken-weiner!” Two hands abruptly appeared, clapping, “Now I like Smartypants, but like I said, he’s a Smartypants, thinks he knows everything there is to know and hates when we--I make things up just because!”

“I feel your pain.”

“Do you?” A several sets of needle-thin, sharp teeth jutted out.

The Snake waved a hand, “Not literally. I don’t presume to know what your pain feels like because I am not you. But I’ve had my run-ins with the Scholar and while an...useful asset to Thomas, I agree he can be difficult to deal with.”

Something green and sticky coiled around the Snake’s bottom reptilian half, entangling the end of his tail. “Ooh I like you!”

Another green-and-sticky something attached to the Spiderling, who did his very best to stay still and not freak. “And I also like you, even though you haven’t said much! What’s your favorite Disney villain?”

“M-maleficient.” The Spiderling said in a hoarse whisper.

“Ooh, sick. I like Ursula because she has two pet eels and when I--we--Thomas grows up, I think we should totally get two pet moray eels and we can feed people we don’t like to them--”

“That’s very nice and you can tell us that wonderful idea later,” The Snake cut in, “but what happened with Scholar and Heart?”

“Oh, alright,” A black boot stomped in mild irritation, “So you know Humpty Dumpty? He’s always depicted as an egg, but it never says that in the rhyme! It’s kinda like that. Smartypants tried putting him--me--us back together again but he got it all wrong!”

A translucent head appeared, shaking side to side in indignation.

“Y’see, when he put the Prince back together again, he based it off of what he remembered the Prince being. All the pieces he thinks makes who me--him--the Prince is. All. The. Pieces. That. Aren’t. ME!” The fiery flash in the green eyes was the only warning the two received before the physical glimpses dissipated completely.

“P-prince?” The Snake called out, uncharacteristically hesitant, “Are you still with us?”

“Don’t! Don’t call me that.”

“Well, what can we call you then?” The Snake amended, withholding a sigh of relief.

“Can I...can I be called the Kraken?”

“Of course, you can be called whatever you’d like.”

An ear-splitting screech sounded in the throne room, causing the Snake to slightly regret his statement. Only slightly, because it was very clearly a joyous screech.

There was a green shimmer in the air and then within a blink, a boy. A boy who looked remarkably similar to the beloved Prince, but not quite. The green tentacles attached to his back was the most glaringly obvious difference.

But there were more subtle ones. Half-healed scrapes and faded scars. Something the Prince would never allow to blemish his skin. A white strand of hair nestled among the boy’s auburn locks of hair. A black raggedy shirt and a pair of green pants that looked closer to a pirate’s garb than a prince’s attire.

“I’m the Kraken! Not a stinky loser prince!” The boy whooped and with a running start, crashed into the Snake and the Spiderling. His tentacles surrounded them and the Snake was certain it’d be hard to escape their suction-cup grip anytime soon.

He was worried that the Spiderling would panic and sink his fangs into the Kraken. Instead, the Spiderling comfortingly stroked the Kraken’s hair just like the Snake had previously done for him.

The Snake repressed a smile at this. “Kraken, what would you like to do?”

“Cry, I think.” The Kraken responded, promptly bursting into tears. The Spiderling joined him, the poor thing, soaking in the Kraken’s fear and grief.

“Shh, my dears, it’ll be alright,” The Snake promised, “Forget the others, the three of us can be our own little family. How does that sound?”

“S-sounds good,” The Kraken hiccuped, “Don’t know why I--we--him were so mean to you two, I’m--I’m s-s-s-sorry--”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” The Snake said, “don’t force yourself to talk, let it all out.”

The Kraken obliged, wailing as if the world had ended and all that remained was a trillion bits of space dust. Which, in a way, it felt that way for him. Have you ever been torn in two? Literally? It was an anguish that any amount of words regardless of language would fail to adequately capture.

It was a wound that wouldn’t, couldn’t, ever fully heal. There were some days, he wasn’t fully there, in mind or in body. Sometimes just a flash of needle-thin teeth. A warm breath behind your ears. A shadow in the corner of your eyes.

But regardless of whatever remnant of him was coherent, he had a family who loved whichever remnant that was there. And for a long, long while, things were happyish.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #kat writes #split fic #not neccesarily #what i consider canon #just a fun what-if y'know?

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

Day 7: Roman x unknown (Creativitwins focus)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 7: There is a string tied around your pinky that only you can see, the end of it leads to your soulmate.

Content warnings: food mentions, mention of losing soulmate, autistic character (not explicitly stated, but heavily implied).

Word count: 2.5k

Little Roman was barely six years old when he first felt the gentle tug on his pinky finger, looking down from his coloring book to inspect the digit. A gap-toothed smile spread across his face when he saw the thin red string, tied in a neat little bow, the end trailing off for about as long as he was tall before fading. He’d been expecting his soulmark since his mom had told him about the concept just a little while ago, and now it was here! The Disney prince lover that he was, he was already ready to meet his true love. Six years had been too long a wait.

His mom turned from the late dinner she was preparing when he hobbled down the stairs, overstuffed and oversized backpack dragging behind him and Mrs. Fluffybottom stuffed into the front of his shirt. She tried her hardest to keep a straight face as he gripped the railing for balance, tongue poking out between his teeth in a valiant attempt to not faceplant.

“Where are you going with Virgil’s backpack, sweetheart?”

“I’m on a quest!” He announced as he stumbled off the final step, puffing out his little chest like a kitten trying to look intimidating. The rabbit stuffy that flopped in front of his face greatly diminished his threat.

“Is that so? And what is the purpose of this quest, my prince?”

“To find my soulmate!”

She put down the wooden spoon she was stirring with a wide grin, their family resemblance shining through with the action. “Your string appeared? That’s amazing!”

Roman couldn’t help but nod excitedly all the while shifting the uncomfortably heavy backpack on his already sore shoulders. “I’m going to find whoever it is and live happily ever after!”

“I’m sure you will, Roman. But how about some dinner before you embark on this journey? Don’t want to get hungry.”

He thought it over carefully, nose scrunching, deep in thought. He wanted to find his soulmate as soon as possible, but the food also smelled super good, and he’d already waited six years. What was one more meal time? His stomach gurgled in affirmation and he took his place at the table, dropping the bag and Mrs. Fluffybottom onto the floor next to him.

“Valiant choice. Boys, come get dinner!” She hollered in the stair’s general direction, being met almost immediately by thundering footsteps echoing through the upstairs hallway. Moments later, Remus slid down the handrail with a shout. His feet screeched loudly against the bannister in an attempt to slow him down, but it failed (as it did every time) and he ended up plummeting off the bottom, landing on his back with an “oof!”. He didn’t seem bothered, though when did he ever, as he scrambled back to his feet and plopped down in his spot, diagonal of Roman. Such arrangements had to be made a while back, when the twins proved incapable of sitting within hitting or kicking distance of each other for meals.

“Ah, and the Duke joins us. Did you see Virgil on the way down, hunny?”

She watched as he knocked the table with his fist lightly, his ‘deep in thought’ face identical to Roman’s, before he shook his head with a low hum.

“That’s okay. Do you want your spaghetti sauce on your noodles or beside it?”

Remus patted both open palms on the table, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Two separate bowls?”

He nodded.

“Sounds good. And Roman- Oh, there he is! The Prince, the Duke, and the King!”

Both boys turned to the stairs as their older brother stepped into the landing, his headphones wrapped around his neck. He looked like he’d just woken up from a nap, eyes drooping and stifling a yawn.

“King? More like court jester!” Roman stage whispered to Remus, incredibly proud of himself for the dig. Remus gave out a delighted giggle, wiggling in his spot. His mom tried to look disappointed, but her smirk was as difficult to hide as Virgil’s eye roll. She placed down Remus’ two bowls before going back to the stove to fill the rest of the plates.

“Cute. Why do you have my backpack?”

“I’m going on an adventure!”

“Okay, well, use your own backpack.”

“It ripped.”

“Then use Remus’.”

Remus let out an indignant grunt, narrowing his eyes in a way that definitely indicated anyone who touched his backpack would be met with his rage. He didn’t like people touching his things.

“I need it for school, dude.”

“And I need to meet my soulmate!”

The kitchen went silent except for Remus slurping marinara off his spoon, interchanging between bites of chopped up noodles and spaghetti sauce, oblivious to the sudden energy shift in the room.

“You got a soulmark?” He asked lowly, less as a question and more of an accusation. Roman puffed his chest up again, refusing to let his older brother bring down the joy of this momentous occasion. What was his problem, anyways?

“Yup! And I’m going on an adventure to unite-”

“Don’t even bother. Soulmates are bullshit anyways.”

“Virgil, language!”

His mother set down the remaining plates, casting Virgil The Look. Roman stuck his tongue out at Virgil before digging into his own plate, concentrating on swirling the pasta around the fork properly. His mother always offered to cut it into pieces like she did for Remus (and how Virgil did for himself) but no, he wanted to be a big boy and eat it like she did. She didn’t complain, because even if it meant twice as much clean up for her, his focus on the task provided a much more peaceful meal time.

“I’m not hungry. I’m just gonna go do homework.”

“Virgil, please eat dinner with us.”

“I said I’m not hungry.”

“You say that now, but I’m the one cleaning reheated pasta off the microwave tomorrow morning because of your little ‘midnight snack’.”

“I’ll clean the microwave,” he grumbled, feeling his chance at victory slipping through his fingers.

“You know that’s not the point. Not that I’m going to prevent you from doing so.”

She softened her smile, gesturing to his plate as she took her spot next to Remus. Virgil took a shuddering breath, hating that he loved his mom this much, and dropped into his seat numbly. He gave Roman a glare out of the side of his eye but the younger didn’t notice, spinning his fork with both hands, before he took his knife and cut his own noodles into bite sized chunks. Something about looking less like an idiot when he ate it.

Dinner went by in a flash, Remus lifting his bowl to lick the inside only to have it plucked from his hands by mom, who stacked his bowls on top of her plate and carried them to the dishwasher. Roman was scraping the last remnants onto his fork when Virgil stood up and stormed from the room.

“Mom, Virgil didn’t clean his dishes!”

“Don’t tattle, Roman. I see it,” She chastised before clearing the plate. Roman hopped off his chair and dutifully brought his own plate over, loading it into the dishwasher. The light in his eyes suddenly exploded to life and he bounded over to his chair, lugging Virgil’s backpack back onto his shoulders.

“Well, I’m off now! Thanks for dinner, mom, but I have a soulmate to find!”

Just as he strode towards the door, trying to decide between his his mickey mouse sneakers or his red velcro ones, Remus let out a wail and dove from the table, eyes bright with tears.

“What is it, Rem? I have to go!”

Another sob broke from his chest as he latched his arms around Roman, effectively smearing the sauce from his chin on his prince costume. He was mumbling something into the fabric, more gibberish than actual words, though Roman heard the word ‘no’ distinctly more than once.

“Aw, now I have to go change!” He pulled back, earning another whine. “I’ll be back, Rem! I don’t know when, but-”

“Roman?”

He turned to his mom, who was standing in the doorway with a gentle smile, watching the scene before her.

“I don’t think Remus wants you to go just yet, sweetheart. And it’s getting dark. Maybe you should stay here for tonight.”

As if to affirm the statement, Remus wrapped himself tighter around Roman’s ribs, shaking his head vigorously against his shoulder. He glanced out the window and sighed; it was getting dark, and despite being an incredibly brave adventurer, he had a strong dislike of the dark. For practical reasons, of course!

“I guess I can stay tonight.”

Remus barely gave him room to breathe as they stumbled up the stairs in an uncoordinated mess, their mom chuckling as she followed a step behind. Luckily she broke them apart long enough to allow them to get into their pajamas and brush their teeth, an affair that went without its usual amount of bickering and petty toothpaste shenanigans. For once, Roman didn’t have the heart to bother his twin, not when the other kept looking at him with teary eyes every time he moved, as if he needed to watch him, lest Roman run away from him again.

When he rinsed out his mouth and walked back into their room, his mom was sitting on his bed, thumbing through his backpack- well, Virgil’s, technically- and neatly refolding the clothes he’d haphazardly thrown in.

“Mom, I’m gonna have to repack those tomorrow!” As much as it bore a hole into his chest, he ignored Remus’ whine and climbed under the blankets. His twin looked torn for a moment, watching him wiggle past his mom’s form, before dejectedly crawling into his own bed, eyes never leaving Roman.

“Ro, what did I tell you about soulmates?”

“That they’re your true love? And the string leads you to them.” Roman shifted so he was lying on his back, smiling wistfully.

“I think I phrased it differently, but yes. Anything else?”

Cue nose scrunching, his trademark thinking face. “I don’t remember.”

“Sweetheart, the string connects you too, but you can’t follow it to them until it’s time for you to meet.”

Roman’s face fell, “You mean I can’t go find my soulmate?”

“You’ll find them on your own time, naturally. If you rush it, or try to force it, it won’t work.”

“Well… what if I try really hard?”

Mom laughed lightly, running a hand through his hair. “That won’t make a difference, sweetheart. You can’t make the process go any faster than it’s supposed to.”

“So I can’t follow the string?”

“I’m sorry, Roman. I know how excited you are for your soulmate.”

Roman couldn’t deny the heaviness weighing in his chest at the news. He had to wait longer? This is getting ridiculous. But if the risk of trying to find the person might delay it even more… well, he’d just have to let it run its course. As much as it sucked.

“Okay,” He sighed, closing his eyes as she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Picking up the now empty backpack from the floor, she stepped up to Remus’ bed.

“Hug and kiss?”

He stared at her for a second as if heavily debating his options, before nodding. She seemed pleased with the response, though Roman knew she’d be okay with whichever he chose, and pulled him into her arms, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m just going to take this back to Virgil,” She waved the backpack towards Roman impishly, “Maybe ask before you take his stuff next time.”

“Wait, mom!” Roman yelped as she went to close the door and she poked her head back in, eyebrow raised. He took a deep breath, not understanding his sudden nervousness. “Why was Virgil so upset? After I told him about my string.” It was mom’s turn to sigh, heavily, before she pushed the door open more and leaned against the frame.

“Virgil doesn’t have a soulmark, sweetheart. It’s very difficult for him to talk about.”

“...Oh. He never got one?” His heart sank, immediately feeling guilty.

“He… he used to have one. And then one day it…” She did a poofing motion with her hands, “Just disappeared. We don’t know why, and Virgil was very sad when it happened.”

Roman could understand… to have this little bond taken as quickly as it was given; he’d be distraught. “Well, maybe he can get it back!”

His mom smiled sadly, slowly reaching for the door handle, “Maybe. Don’t try to talk to Virgil about it, okay? It’s a sore topic.”

“Okay…” Roman pulled the covers up to his chin, his mind filled with newbound anxieties. “I love you.”

Her expression morphed into one of fondness, her eyes glittering with joy. “I love you, too, my Prince. And you, my Duke. Sweet dreams, okay?”

“Night, mom,” Roman called as she closed the door, going back to watching the glow in the dark stars on their ceiling. He couldn’t stop thinking about Virgil’s lost soulmark. What if that happened to him? How old had Virgil been when it happened? Was his soulmate still out there, or were they... gone?

All questions he’d have to talk to his mom about tomorrow, since she’d told him not to talk to Virgil about it. Maybe he’d just give Virgil an extra tight hug tomorrow, to make him feel better. Hugs always made Roman feel better, so it was probably the same for his big brother, too.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a small sniffle from Remus’ bed, turning his attention from the galaxy on their ceiling to his brother. In the dim glow of their respective red and green nightlights, Remus’ brown eyes shone with bright tears, watching Roman intensely and choking back small sobs. He still thought he was going to leave.

With not a moment’s hesitation, Roman scooted back until he was against the wall and lifted the corner of the blanket in a silent invitation. Remus didn’t need more than that, scrambling out of his own covers with lightning speed, almost tripping over the fabric, and launching himself into his twin’s bed. Like an octopus, he wrapped his limbs around Roman in a tight squeeze, digging his face into his chest. He got the message. Please don’t leave.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rem. I promise. I’ll stay.”

That seemed to be enough to satiate him, because his eyes immediately drooped, though his grip didn’t falter.

“If you kick me, I’m pushing you onto the floor.”

Remus hummed gruffly from the back of his throat, like an unspoken way of saying shut up. Roman didn’t fight his hug, didn’t try to escape, because even if his twin was the bane of his existence, he still loved him more than anything. Except maybe his mom… and reluctantly, Virgil. They all tied for first place. But for sure, if anyone talked bad about Remus (and peers had, in the past), he would be the first to deck them and sit on them until they apologized (he’d done that, too).

“Love you, Rem,” He grumbled like it was a reluctant admission. His brother didn’t answer, and he realized he’d fallen asleep, curled against Roman like a koala. That was fine. They hadn’t shared a bed in years, and he’d kind of missed it.

He got comfortable, as much as he could with his human attachment, and let his eyes drift shut, visions of his possible soulmate filling his dreams.

#if you tag this as remrom i will personally steal your kneecaps #lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #creativitwins #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #ts soulmate au #soulmateseptember #soulmate september #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssides

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years

Note

for your bad things happen bingo: prank gone wrong with romantic intruality? happy ending though? :3

Thank you for the prompt!

Knot A Prank

Summary: Patton tries pranking Remus in an effort to make him feel more welcome. It does not go as planned. (Happy ending)

Warnings: mention of bugs, unintentional strangulation, non explicit sexual innuendo, cursing, caps to signify shouting, injury

Prompt: Prank Gone Wrong

Ships: Intruality, Patton x Remus

Wc: 1672

AO3 link

Learning to live with Remus since he began coming around more often was...interesting to say the least. His suggestive language and random bouts of murderous imagery was something that concerned Patton in the beginning, believing it couldn't be good for Thomas' mental well being and moral standing for someone like Remus to have as much room to talk as he did. But the more he was around the more he began to understand that he really was just an excitable person who couldn't stay on one subject of conversation for mode than a few minutes to save his life. When Patton began humoring him, listening to the more vulgar ideas and getting used to his presence in kind, the duke seemed to get a little calmer, pick fights a little less...leave less fake blood on the carpeting.

Through all that the most he brought to the mind space they shared was pranks in any and all forms. Jump scares that sent Virgil clawing and hissing his way up the fridge and sent Remus cackling. Filling Deciet's gloves with copious amounts of mayonaise amused him to no end when said side would pretend he didn't even notice, delicately excusing himself with a far too put together expression. Making Roman's sword melt and snapping it back together in a hiding place, gluing pages of Logan's books together and fixing it just before he lost his cool, even pranking Patton by replacing the pepper with ground up crickets. (Which he didnt notice until he tated a distinct lack of peper flavor on his eggs that morning and Remus casually mentioning it, though after the initial shock he had eaten them anyway, much to the dukes surprised amusement.)

Everyone had been more than a little surprised when Patton had simply taken the pranks in stride, finding them to be a nice day to day mix up as long as they didnt go too far. He even began learning more about Rrmus as time went on. His favorite pastime was defacing disney coloring books, which Patton had a hunch was just to get to Roman. He liked doing his nails and had even offered to do Patton's at some point, to which he refused only because he hated the feel of it. He liked cooking and was surprisingly good at it when he wasnt trying to put something completely inedible on their plates just to see their reactions. His favorite desert was, again, surprising in its simplicity and healthiness, which is what Patton was making now to lure the other to the kitchen.

No one had managed (or tried) to prank Remus back since he began coming around more. Whether thay was from fear or lack of trying Patton wasn't sure but he was fixing that today. He smiled as he heard thumping down the stairs. Game. Set. Match.

"What the hell??"

Patton whirled around and tsked. "Language Remus."

Remus raised an eyebrow and tugged a bit at his arms, huffing when they only tangled further. Now that he was trapped the ropes that were slung in the doorway were clearly visible, hung in such a way that it was easy yo get tangled and hard to get out of. With Rrmus dangling in the middle of it Patton smiled at his pranks success.

Huffing again, Remus spoke up in a sultry tone. "Oh Daddy, if you wanted me tied up so badly all you had to do was ask."

Heat erupted under Pattons skin as he sputtered. "Its a prank! I wanted to prank you since you're always pulling them on the others!" He gestured to the freshly dipped caramel apples. "So I made your favorite desert and you're trapped and cant have any."

"You...know my favorite desert?" All suggestion left his voice as he stared at Patton with barely contained adoration.

"Of course! I...wasn't fair to you before so I'm trying my best to make up for it."

Remus cackled. "By tying me up and refusing me my sweets?"

Admittedly it was a lame prank but it was his first he'd ever pulled! He wasn't really sure how it was supposed to work. "I didnt think this through very well..." he admitted, shame faced.

Laughter dying out Rrmus shook his head. "Hey no it's fine Patty whack, just means we gotta work on it a bit! How about-"

Remus was cut off as he was pulled violently downward, turning both of their complexions pale white for entirely different reasons. While it was possible to resist a summons, catch a side off guard or in a vulnerable position and it became that much harder.

"Remus! No, no, no this wasnt- okay just hold on I can-" Patton rushed to start tugging at the rope, cursing both his stupidity and the timing of the others. Another tug sent Remus down further, ropes tightening and catching his fingers which he snapped back with a yelp, watching helplessly as the other gurgled and struggled against his confines. It was tangled everywhere, swinging around his arms and legs, one tangled loosely at his waist and another pulled taunt right under his jaw. He was beginning to turn red, fingertips blushing as their circulation was cut off and mouth gaping in an attempt to get air into his closed windpipe as Patton tugged valiantly at the rope, at his clothes, at anything as tears ran down his face while continuing to curse. It was just a harmless prank it shouldn't have- HE shouldn't have-

He laid a quick hand on Remus' cheek and sunk out quickly, popping up in the living room in the middle of the others' debate.

"The pranks cant have been that detrimental to Thomas' mental well being but it would still be a good idea to address it as a possible- oh Patton, you aren't-"

Paying Logan no mind Patton looked straight at Thomas and screamed. "STOP PULLING!"

Instantly the room fell silent and Tbomas' hand flopped to his side while opening his mouth in question. Not even bothering to explain, Patton quickly sunk out again, rushing to the Duke's side and frantically pulling away the rope, finally able to disentangle now that it was loose. He gasped sharply as Remus did nothing but fall limply to the ground, rope burns standing out an angry red around his wrists and neck. Seeing he was breathing, albeit shakily, Patton quickly scooped him up and moved him to the couch, biting his lip in guilt ridden worry as he noticed dark bruises already beginning to form. He heard a soft whoosh behind him and turned to see Logan standing shocked in the doorway. All at once he burst into tears again, clutching desperately to Remus' hand.

"Help me."

Snapping out of it Loagn took quick strides to examine Remus, hissing in sympathy at the discoloration. Poking and prodding got barely a wince from the unconcious side but Logan seemed satisfied, turning to Patgon with a furrowed brow.

"I'm going to get ice and vaseline. Stay here."

Nodding numbly he pressed the hand he was still holding his cheek as he continued to cry, guilt twisting his stomach in tense knots that made him want to puke. It was just supposed to be a harmless prank but he had been stupid and careless and now-

He watched as Logan came back to lay a thin towel and an ice pack over Remus' neck, taking the hand gently away from him to slather vaseline on the worst of the rope burns before wrapping them in soft bandages. Satisfied with his work Logan turned to look at him.

"I assume those ropes in the doorway are what caused this."

A fresh batch of tears cascaded down Patton's face as he practically wailed into the reclaimed hand. "It was an accident I swear! It was a stupid prank and were gonna have apples after but I couldn't get the ropes undone and oh god what if he died? Lo, what if i killed him, he can't-"

"Patton breathe." Sucking in a huge breath his sobs stuttered out and left him silently shaking, the reassuring hand on his shoulder doing little to ease his worry. "Remus will be fine, and as figments of Thomas' imagination we are unable to die anyway. It most likely won't even take him that long to heal, I promise you. What you did was done with little forethought but that doesnt mean him being hurt was your fault."

Patton sniffed. "It doesn't?"

"It was just unfortunate timing on both our parts. I'm sure Remus will forgive you readily enough."

"He already does." Patton gasped and turned at the slightly raspy voice, finding the injured side smiling Foothill up at him. "Hey Pattoncake it's okay. I've done worse to myself."

Crying with relief now Patton through himself on the other, unabashedly dusting kisses all over the other face as gently as he could. Remus laughed, tugging the other on top of him and only wincing slightly at the pressure, squeezing him tightly in his arms as be continued go be bombarded with love.

"Remus I'm so sorry I-"

"Hush it's fine. It was exhilarating until I passed out." Waggling his eyebrows for effect he let out a relieved sigh as Patton giggled. "This just means I'll have to teach you how to pull pranks that couldn't kill someone if they were real. No harm done."

Neither of them noticed Logan leave to dispell the others worries, too wrapped up in eachother figuratively and literally to pay any attention. Remus expression grew serious however making Patton suck in a worried breath.

"I seem to remember desert being a thing, and seeing how I almost died I'm thinking I should definitely get first pick."

Laughing softly Patton leaned up to give him a quick peck on the lips, earning a rare blush in return. "Of course!"

He watched as Patton left. "If this is what I get for almost dying I should do it more often."

"Absolutely not!"

#bad things happen bingo #sanders sides #false writes #sanders sides fic #ao3 #prank gone wrong #ask #request fill #patton sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #intruality #patton x remus #patton sanders x remus sanders #false bthb

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 5 years

Text

Headcanons: The Sides Crying + Being Comforted by the Reader

It’s been a good while since I’ve written some headcanons for any of these boys, and I was in a hurt/comfort mood. So here’s what I came up with!

...........

Patton

Usually, Patton will cry from feeling any sort of extremely strong emotion (be it joy, sadness, anger, or nostalgia).

He’s a quiet crier--short gasps and occasional whimpers usually encompass his sobs. And he might put on his kitten hoodie for comfort.

But he’s got a tendency to hide it from the others until he’s in his own room or the Nostalgia Room.

Ironically he tells others that crying is perfectly healthy and nothing to be ashamed of, although he doesn't often heed his own advice.

Logan scolded him the last time he did that, so he’s too nervous to cry around the Sides now, even though he missed the point of Logan’s words entirely.

Even around you he tries cracking some jokes, although they usually slip and reveal how he's really feeling.

The moment you ask “are you okay?”, he breaks down and lets his tears go.

When he’s hugging you (or you hug him) he already starts feeling so much better, regardless of whatever lead to him crying before.

Sometimes sitting together in silence helps him calm down, other times it’s you making some snacks or talking about a funny memory of you and Thomas.

He remembers all of them, of course, but he lets you talk about them anyway because your voice always cheers him up.

Logan

The precursor to him crying is an aching feeling in his chest, and him stammering over his words.

He tries to keep his voice even, so sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s sad about something or if he’s just having trouble focusing on a task.

But if you somehow find out, he tries to dismiss the feelings, trying to make sense out of why he’s like this now.

However, that proves futile as sometimes there’s no particular reason or logic behind it.

When his mind fails to come to a sensible conclusion, he gives up and hastily takes off his glasses to wipe away some tears, cursing himself.

You could tell it’s an uncomfortable sensation for him, so you’d help distract him from whatever’s making him upset.

It turns out distractions do, indeed, work best for him. They get his brain out of its current mindset and focused on something else.

You could teach him about new idioms/slang words or ask him to help you with some homework, and he’d feel better in no time.

At a later time he may talk to you about what bothered him, although he's grateful that you helped him out.

Roman

As the drama queen prince that he is, he tends to be a bit of a loud and angry crier.

Creative blocks are his worst enemy, more awful than any imaginary demon or monster he’s fought to protect Thomas from, and he thinks he’s weak and a failure for not being able to get past them.

Plus, him feeling like the fans don’t appreciate him as much as they used to definitely gets to him at times.

Often he’ll just collapse onto his bed and weep for a long while, but if he’s really angry, he'll start wrecking stuff in his room until he tires himself out.

Roman never likes talking about how he’s truly feeling, desperate to keep up his act, although it doesn’t take you long to see right through it.

Just take the sword and the whole facade away and you’d have a heartbroken man who just wants to be good enough.

If you open your arms up to him, he’ll collapse into them and vent about his insecurities through his wails of pain.

Sometimes he needs advice from someone on the outside, other times he just wants them to hear him. You always know which one.

Usually a Disney movie and time away from the writing and the scripts helps him settle down.

Although he can and will bawl at the saddest parts of said Disney movie even though he's seen them 100 times.

Virgil

Despite being the embodiment of anxiety, he’s fairly quiet when it comes to crying.

But he does show the most obvious physical signs he’s about to cry: darker and far more smudged eyeshadow, red glassy eyes, slight trembling, and elevated uneven breaths expelled in attempts to calm himself down.

Usually when he’s in such a state, his hoodie is zipped up and over his head, and he’s curled up in a ball somewhere in his room.

Music sometimes calms him down, although it doesn’t always drown out out the whispers of doubt and the fears of what the others think of him.

When you find him, or convince one of the other Sides to take you to him, he shrinks away from your words and/or touch, at first.

So you gotta be patient with him and let him know what you’re gonna do. You don’t want him to shut himself in anymore than he already is.

Eventually he does accept your comfort.

Mostly in the form of him resting his head on your chest. It especially muffles the soft sobs he sometimes lets out.

He needs to hear your voice, so you could talk about the dumbest shit and he’d still smile and calm down a little.

Janus

It is exceptionally rare for Janus to ever cry, considering the image and pride he tries to keep up.

He tends to drawl out his s’s far more whenever he’s upset.

Usually he’d tear up if he’s getting extremely frustrated with the “Light Sides” and can’t seem to convince Thomas he’s right about something.

But the one time he did cry of happiness in front of you was during his “birthday”, aka the day of his reveal.

The Sides were hesitant to give him any gifts, considering their distrust of him, and it...kinda hurt him a lot.

He may be cruel at times and try to sway Thomas into being selfish, but Janus was just made that way. It wasn’t his choice.

However, you showed up to the dark side of the Mindscape with a gift: a custom-made plush snake with two heads, gold scales, a black underbelly, and yellow eyes.

He immediately suspects you were forced by one of the others to give him something, although he can't see any trace of lying in your eyes.

He broke down after realizing this, tears streaming down his face as he rubbed them away with his glove, clutching the snake.

You weren't expecting that kind of reaction, so you just pat his shoulder comfortingly until he settles down, not wanting to tease him for showing his emotions.

After he tells you he’s happy and grateful you even thought about doing this for him, you smile and nervously ask if he wants a hug.

That gets him choked up, too, and he accepts it with a smile of his own.

Remus

It makes perfect sense that Remus crying would be just as disgusting as every other aspect of him is.

Spoiler: He’s a gross and ugly crier.

Usually it happens after the loneliness gets to him too much.

He’s a hyperromantic, but he knows nobody would ever love him and he’s always meant to be ignored.

So he keeps imagining lewd and vulgar romantic scenarios and makes Thomas think of them as a way of projecting his (Remus’) insecurities onto him.

Whenever Thomas tells you about it, you decide to confront Remus alone...only to find him sobbing hysterically on his bed, even more of a wreck than he usually is.

His face is blotchy and a mess of snot and tears, which he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. He’ll just stare at you and keep crying until you do or say something.

If you awkwardly offer him a hug, he won’t let go of you for a long, long time. His hugs are bone-crushing, although he eases up once you return the embrace.

The man’s just so damn touch-starved. He loses all knowledge of boundaries and personal space at the slightest touch of affection.

At that point he just babbles whatever hurt he’s feeling, rubbing his messy face all over your clothes until he wears himself out.

Surprisingly he thanks you for comforting him, before he lets you go about your day like nothing ever happened.

But every once in a while, he'll seek out comfort from you whenever he was legitimately sad. Only because he likes your hugs.

#sanders sides imagine #sanders sides x reader #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #headcanons

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crazybagelbitch · 4 years

Note

Harriet: Christmas prompt part 2b - the tree does not go down well with Maddie and she phones/visits (you choose) chimney later that night crying that she’s sorry and didn’t mean to upset him/Harriet. Just panicked. 🥺

“This is not a good idea, this is not a good idea,” he keeps muttering to himself under his breath, hoping Harriet is too caught up in the excitement of the moment to be listening to him.

It appears, by the way that she’s giggling and clapping her hands, that she is.

“Maddie?” Buck calls, “we come baring gifts!”

He can immediately tell by the look on Maddie’s face when she sees the Christmas tree that he was right; terrible idea.

He opens his mouth to apologize but Buck beats him to the punch, continuing on talking, clearly having not picked up on his sister’s anxiety.

“We got decorations too, so don’t say--”

“I just w-wasn’t going to do much Christmas this year,” Maddie says in a panic.

“Why not?” Buck asks.

“It’s okay,” Chimney says quickly, hoping to salvage this before it goes further south, “Maddie doesn’t want a tree-- we shouldn’t have assumed. We can give it to someone else, it’s fine--”

“Maddie, come on, you love Christmas,” Buck shakes his head, sounding incredulously, “what’s going on here?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. Just no Christmas this year, okay?”

“No Christmas?” Harriet asks, lip trembling and eyes wide and oh god no, he feels bad abandoning ship but Chimney knows he needs to get his daughter out of her and fast, because she’s going to get upset, and he knows that will only make Maddie feel even more anxious.

“No, Hare-Bear, we’ll have Christmas this year, don’t worry. How about we go get some ice cream, hm? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Christmas cancelled?”

“No, sweetheart, no. Not at all. Ice cream and then Christmas.”

“Strawberry?”

“Yep, your favorite, of course,” Chimney nods emphatically, mouthing an “I’m so sorry” at Maddie before carrying Harriet out the door, practically running as he can hear Buck shouting about how he has yet another thing to thank Doug.

Luckily, because of her age-given attention span, Harriet is easy to distract. Ice cream helps, and so does watching a Disney movie (but not Rapunzel of course), and so does playing with her stuffed dog named Unicorn.

But he can tell by her face when she remembers what happened earlier, and he does his best to reassure that Maddie is okay, just surprised, and maybe he tells a little white lie that the reason Maddie got emotional was just she was so captivated by the beauty of the tree.

Yeah, he feels like a dick for lying to her, but it seems like the better option than explaining domestic violence to his poor three year old who has already been forced to grapple with the concept of death.

His phone rings just as he’s finished putting Harriet to bed that night, and he knows exactly who it is, exactly who knows their routine well enough to know that Harriet would now be unable to overhear.

“Maddie? Are you okay?”

“I-I’m so sorry,” she whimpers, and Chimney flinches at the tears in her voice, “so, s-so sorry, was so nice of y-you to get me a tree. Buck s-said Harriet picked it out a-and I ruined it...”

“No, no, please don’t cry, Maddie. It’s alright. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m the one that should be sorry, okay? I should have been more sensitive and--”

“D-did I hurt your feeling? Is H-Harriet okay? Is she upset?”

“Shh, we’re fine, I promise. Please, please, don’t feel bad.”

“R-ruined Christmas,” Maddie sobs, and Chimney feels like a dagger is going into his heart, “she’s three and I-I ruined--”

“You didn’t ruin anything, and especially not Christmas. She’s three, okay? It’s impossible to ruin Christmas for her. I am begging you, Maddie, do not feel worried about us. We’re fine. If anything I was selfish.”

“Selfish? H-how? So selfless, s-so good...”

“I wasn’t sure you’d have... a good reaction to it,” he sighs, pausing and waiting for her to start yelling, to start hating him for being so selfish, “but Harriet was so excited and I wanted to make her happy and it’s the first year I feel like she’s really old enough to understand Christmas and that her mother’s not there and--”

“R-ruined it,” Maddie wails, and god damn it, should have kept that to himself.

“No, Maddie--”

“I’ll make it u-up to you, I swear. T-to both of you. Tell H-Harriet I’m sorry.”

“No, I won’t, because there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“S-sorry. Gonna f-fix it. See you l-later.”

“No, Maddie, don’t--”

He hears a beep.

“...Hang up.”

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vesuvian-american · 4 years

Text

The Next Right Thing

I guess you could say this is a Disney Prompt, but I was listening to this last night and thought about Asra maybe singing this song when he finds out that MC had passed away because of the plague. Thus, this fic was born. You get Asra, you get some Muriel, you get some you, stove Salamander saved, Faust, Nepal, bad dreams! You get angst.

Words: 1571

Something had shifted. It was an oddly cool day in Nepal. Asra awoke that morning from the strangest dream. Unbearable heat swallowing him up, nowhere to run. He was overcome with sadness, a grief he couldn’t escape. Longing, mistakes he felt he couldn’t correct. Then nothing. Silence, everything was still for what felt like an eternity all until a blood curdling scream in the distance shook him awake and he fell from the comfort of his bed. His heart felt heavy. He couldn’t imagine falling back asleep. He made sure to travel into town right then to find the source of that scream. Yet, there too it was silent, nothing out of place nothing out of the ordinary. The townsfolk were safe and all accounted for, all except for Asra himself. Deep in his gut he felt something was off, he felt uneasy. Like he’d lost something very dear to him but he couldn’t imagine what that dream meant. For the days after that he never felt better. Still he feared sleeping. The dreams were different now. He just felt a complete and utter emptiness, he wondered if this is what death felt like. Each night the dreams slightly changed, a soft crying sound growing louder and louder. His last night in Nepal the crying in his dreams turned into a loud disturbing wailing so loud he couldn’t fall asleep for even a second or the wailing would start again. If nothing was wrong in Nepal maybe it was---

It was time to return to Vesuvia. By time he made it to the forest a dark storm cloud was over head. Thunder rumbled in the distance as he entered Muriel’s hut. Empty, but the magical wards overhead were charged and working properly, Muriel was safe. “He’s probably out looking for firewood, Faust.” Asra gives his familiar a wry smile as her cool scales slither over his shoulder. “Let’s head to the shop and check on our friend.” Friend! It had been a long time since Asra saw you. You both had argued on whether to stay in Vesuvia or run away from the plague. How were you doing, where you safe? Did you actually find a cure? He thought. Something in his heart told him that wasn’t the case. But he fought off the negative thoughts, He just wanted to see you and hold you close. Apologize for everything, apologize for leaving you alone here. He should have been stronger than his fear. The fear never escaped him even as he left. He was safe but you weren't. His anxiety ate him up inside while he hid in Nepal. Never did a day go by where he didn’t think about you, and miss you. He still loved you, he just needed to come back and right all his wrong and. What's this? No magical shield on the door? Protective charms, most likely Muriel’s, left in a pile on the doorstep never picked up. His heart sank but he swallowed his fear and lifted his shaky hand to the door handle. The door was chilly, the inside felt still. He trembled so hard the door started to shake as well. He twisted the handle and the darkness from inside his shop spilled out. He stayed there; eyes closed with the door cracked open for a long moment. It was only the rain drops that finally started to fall over the city dropping on his head that urged him forward and into the shop.

Using magic, he gave himself some light. A thin layer of dust covered the shop. Books and paperwork with scribbled writing littered the floors and counter tops. Your handwriting. Ilya’s handwriting. The tiniest bit of relief washed over him. You probably moved into the palace to work with the other doctors on the cure. No. That was wrong too, he had to investigate more. He travelled upstairs to check your shared bedroom. Nothing here. In the kitchenette, there was a small pitter patter sound. Not the rain but like—CRASH! A dish falls from the cabinet, knocked off but by what. He peers inside and finds the stove salamander. Very thin, very frail and dull in color, looking sickly. He scoops them up in his hands and finds him something to eat. You would never neglect the salamander. If you headed to the palace, you’d take them with you of course. Leaving Faust and the salamander in the kitchen to snack and rest he rushed into the bedroom, ripping the pillows and the blankets from the bed. He had to find something, anything that would tell him where you were. What happened! Shaking he finally sees it. A single note. It’s your handwriting but messier than he remembers as if you had no energy to write.

“Dearest Asra,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For not leaving with you. I felt my duty was here to Vesuvia, to find a cure, to save our home. I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t smart enough. I wasn’t fast enough. I’m sick. Very sick. Muriel doesn’t know, he still visits the front door but I haven't gone downstairs in days. You need each other to live through this. If you read this don’t stay. Run back to Nepal. Take Muriel. Take anybody that’s still healthy and leave. I hope to be some of the last few to be lost due to the plague. Please for me, stay away. I don’t have much energy left to do anything. I don’t know what day it is, what month, what year. All I know is you, Muriel, Julian. The poor citizens of Vesuvia, and our home. This letter will be the last thing I do. I’m using everything I have to get all my thoughts, wishes, and love into this letter for you. A piece of me hopes you never find it, at least not until Vesuvia is saved again. I don’t want you to come back here to get sick. Please don’t go any further. Turn back to Nepal with Muriel and Faust.

I will love you always.”

You tried to finish off with your name but had no energy at all to continue. The worst can be assumed. Asra cried. He screamed. He ran. He didn’t stop until he was at the docks, begging for it to not be true. He cries turned to choked sobs. He was out of breath and energy. He slept there for who knows how long. Muffled footsteps walked to him and sat by his side. They stayed silent, and Asra felt back asleep without any regard for who was by him. Muriel looked down to his friend with puffy eyes, red from tears he shed himself. Seeing his best friend like this broke him. He made sure to stay there for his friend. Whenever he was ready to wake up and face his fears. He’s be there for him no matter what he decided to do. He’d follow him and protect him from any more grief and anguish. Asra was his everything. Muriel was going to be there to help him stand up and get through this and live, just as you wanted. “I feel numb.” Asra’s voice was weak and hoarse. Muriel said nothing, this was time for Asra to speak and out his feelings into words. “I’ve seen dark before, but not like this.” He rolls onto his back to look up at his friend. He recognized it was Muriel a long time ago. “How.. How could this happen, Muriel?” A tear shed down Muriel’s face, and he turned his head and grunted in response. Asra saw him trembling. “What are we going to do?” Asra sounded so pitiful. Broken. Muriel wanted to hold him and shield him from these feelings while ignoring his own. Just as he started to warm up to you and consider you someone worth getting to know. You die. “How am I supposed to go on?” Asra whimpers looking up the stars. He reaches his hand out as if to grasp a time where you were still alive and tangible, and here with him. Muriel glances back at his friend, this bottom lip wobbling as he fights back the unshed tears in his eyes. He curls in on himself tighter than before. Pulling his knees closer into his chest and wrapping his cloak around him even more. He lets out a shaky breath and hides his face, he can’t fight these feelings anymore. He finally lets the tears falls, albeit hidden from his closet friend. Asra lets his hand fall into the sand, kicking up dust and clouding his senses for a moment. Yet, in that moment everything was made clear to him. For the first time in days he sees your smiling face clearly, this wasn’t a memory. It was the future. He’d have you back. Nothing will be the same with you gone. As the dust settles you image falls away as well, but stays locked in his mind. He stands up, weakly but the look on his face is strong.

“Let’s go Muriel. Y/N needs us.” He turns back to his friend and holds his hand out, putting on a brave face for Muriel, giving him a weary smile. Muriel then lifts his head and takes Asra’s hand. Wiping the tears from his eyes he sees Asra heading for a boat. They’re headed to the Lazaret.

#angst #asra #asra the arcana #Muriel #muriel the arcana #The Apprentice #Faust #Fic #hc #never went back to check for spelling and grammar and all that so sorry if its baddddddd

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emperorsfoot · 4 years

Text

abandoned Star Wars fic #2

This one is so rough my notes are still there in the document. When you see the brackets [ ] that is me talking to myself as I write.

Another AU, again based off the Star Wars EU that existed pre-Disney Buyout. Vader manages to intercept Obi-Wan before he can get Luke to the Lars, but Vader can’t raise him on Corescant. Palpatine would ask too many questions. So, Vader takes Luke to be raised by an alien race loyal to him on planet Honoghr.

...

[title]

Chapter One:

Sand and dust was kicked up in the wake of two speeders racing across the dessert night. One furiously gaining, the other desperate to shake and lose its tail.

One arm wrapped protectively around the bundle clutched to his chest, the other trying its best to steer the small one-man speeder. Keep it steady. While simultaneously trying to shake off and lose his pursuer. But it was a tall order to fill. His hunter knew these sands far better than he did, had grown up here, was shaped by the sands and the winds. And he was driven. Driven by a a raging tumultuous storm of feelings to wild and varying to interpret fully. But Kenobi would have to say that rage was definitely at the forefront of that emotional storm. Rage and pain.

Pain over the death of Padme and rage at the one he credited with responsibility for her premature passing.

Because goodness forbid Anakin Skywalker ever take responsibility for his own actions or their resultant tragedies.

Kenobi clutched baby Luke tighter as he banked hard to the right. Taking them down a labyrinthine formation of shallow canyons and jagged rocks. For the majority of the journey, the baby had remained blissfully quiet. Something the Jedi master was sure was uncommon for new borns and infants. It might have given him cause to worry if he didn't currently have a much greater and more pressing concern tearing between rocks and sand behind them.

But now, being rocked and jostled by the chase, and perhaps also sensing the violent storm of feelings behind them, Luke uttered his first loud, unhappy cries since slipping from the warmth of his mothers womb into the cold and uncaring world they lived in.

Perhaps he was spurred on by the sound of his son's crying, or perhaps he'd just gotten close enough for the weapon to be useful, but from behind, Kenobi heard the unmistakable snap-hiss of a lightsaber. Unable to simultaneously draw his own blade while still steering the speeder and holding Luke, Kenobi did the only other option open to him. He leapt from his own speeder just in time to miss being split in two by a jumping swing of the crimson-white blade.

The red hot saber slashed the speeder in two instead. Each half banging and ricocheting off rocks and canyon before they came to skidding, crumbling halts. A few seconds later, Anakin's own abandoned speeder followed the Jedi's speeder into oblivion by crashing into the canyon wall. The spectacular explosion lighting up the night enough for Kenobi to see flames illyminate the new black armor and helmet in brilliant shades of orange and red.

Lowering the red saber only slightly, Anakin -no, he wasn't Anakin anymore, Anakin had died on Mustafar, this man was a Sith Lord- Darth Vader extended his free hand. With a new voice, deep and baritone, nothing like Anakin's at all, uttered a single command. "Give him to me."

Shaking his head, Kenobi drew his own lightsaber. Ready to defend the innocent life in his other arm with his last breath if necessary. "Don't do this, Anakin. Let him live his life without the burden of your legacy."

There was a beat of silence filled only by the sound of the respirator, carefully counting breaths. Then, "You have taken to much from me. You'll not take my son as well."

With that, the sinister figure closed the distance. Dark cape trailing behind him. Kenobi just managed to bring his own blade up in time to block the blow. With only one hand holding the saber, he had less strength to hold the red-white blade at bay. The Jedi hoped that Vader would regulate his strength enough so as to not injure the baby he carried -it was, after all, the baby he was after- but remembering his actions towards Padme, Kenobi just couldn't be sure of anything anymore. Vader wanted the baby. But he also wanted the Jedi master dead.

Pulling a bit of the Force to him, Kenobi pushed Vader off them. Taking advantage of the younger man's imbalance to swing an offense of his own, Kenobi aimed for that shiny and new black helmet. But the blow was only glancing, just melting a scratch on the surface, not even penetrating to the head beneath. Both men to a step back to regain themselves. Luke resumed his wails. The cries seeming all the louder for the echo off the canyon walls.

"This is what Padme would have wanted for him!" Kenobi tried to reason with him. "To grow up with a family and love. Not be used as a tool for your ambition or the Emperor's power!"

"He will be with his family." Vader snarled. "I am his father!"

"You killed his mother!" Kenobi reminded him.

"Because of you!" The other snarled.

He swung his lightsaber at the man. The spinning blade arching towards his head. Kenobi jumped to the side, drawing on the force to help cushion his fall, not for himself but to ease the discomfort to the baby. The swinging blade came flying back to its wielder's hand and he slashed down at Kenobi's prone form. The Jedi struggling to regain his footing was quick enough to evade a death blow, but not quick enough to come away unscathed. He screamed as the red-white blade sliced through his ankled with a burning ferocity. Kenobi's scream of pain, adding to the chorus of Luke's.

"She was my wife!" Vader roared. "And you used her. Turned us against each other. I might have been the instrument, but it was you who killed her! Its your fault! Your fault!" The dark shoulders shook with unchannelled emotion. It sent reverberations through the Force, washing other both of them. Causing the Jedi to forget the pain in his leg for a moment and the baby's sobs degraded into hiccups, having already cried himself hoarse. "You took my wife from me, Obi-wan. I will not let you take my son from me as well."

The Sith Lord bent down over them. Black gloved hands reaching… and with unexpected care, plucked the hiccuping child from the Jedi's arms. He held the baby for a moment or two. The only sound apart from Luke's nervous hiccups and grumbles, the mechanical breathing of the respirator. Vader -or perhaps in that moment he was Anakin again- looked down at the child in his arms who squirmed uncomfortably against the cold leather pulled over unfeeling bionics. There could be no warmth in that hold. No physical warmth. But perhaps there was some emotional warmth from the father for his son. For Luke seemed to calm ever so slightly. His child in his arms, Vader's own raging storm of feelings also subsided to what Kenobi decided must be the new baseline for the Dark Lord.

The relative serenity of the scene was broken by an errant breeze whistling through the canyon. The soft sound string them from their brief moment of peace. Kenobi called his lightsaber back to his hand. But Vader was quicker on the draw. The Jedi froze with the glowing crimson tip a few centimeters from singeing distance of his beard.

[I cannot yet decide if Ben would serve the story better alive of dead. So I'll leave this scene here for now. Perhaps you can think of a suitable way to close this little skirmish. ]

And so he had his son. Padme's son. The last living remnant of the woman he'd loved.

But what to do with him.

Taking him back to Corescant was out of the question. Loath though he was to admit it, Obi-wan did have a valid point. Padme would not want her son to be used as a tool for Palpatine's power. Not to mention that there was that tiny matter of the rule of two. It was possible that the old man might not even allow the boy to live. Either that, or order the father's death and take the boy as a new apprentice. Young, and malleable, and still whole. But if he was gone, then who would protect the boy while he grew?

Vader unconsciously tightened his grip on the boy, wrapping him in an invisible cloak of dark and territorial feelings. A gesture protecting him both physically and psychically. He needed to keep his son safe. That was priority one. Everything else was detail. It could be sorted out later. First thing first, he needed to get Luke to a secure location. After that he could figure out what to do. Corescant was out. But Naboo didn't sound to appealing either. While he was sure Padme's family would be more than happy to take in her motherless child, it would be to easy to find him there.

Briefly, he considered Tatooine. They were already here, after all. And it was where he grew up. But no. The environment was too harsh. Both ecologically and culturally. Slavery was to prevalent and to many households were just a few credits difference away from selling their own children into bond to feed themselves. He would not risk his son becoming a slave. He would not allow his son to grow up believing slavery to be a common and acceptable practice. Slowly, he ran through the list until he finally thought of one that might just be perfect.

Remote. Out of common knowledge. Honor-based culture. And most important of all, completely dedicated to him.

Vader didn't know why he didn't think of it first!

Now with a destination, they set course for Honoghr.

…

[And then I realized Anakin/Vader wouldn't have had time to construct a new lightsaber. Between "NOOOOOOOO!" and Obi-wan taking Luke to the Lars' there just isn't the opportunity to make one. So the fight between Kenobi and Vader couldn't have gone like that. I'll have to re-write the scene. ]

Kabarakh braced one arm against the speeder's dashboard, his other hand gripping the side panel so tightly his gray knuckles threatened to turn white. He was a Noghri warrior, trained to remain calm and composed even under great strain. …But none of his mentors had ever had the 'honor' of riding passenger in a speeder piloted by the Son of Vader.

"Wha-hoooo!" The young human whooped as they banked a hard turn just in time to save them from plummeting down a rather steep ravine cut by the rushing waters of the Vas'ser river. Kabarakh let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. If the fall hadn't killed them, the waters surly would have. They sped off over the short scrubby kolm-grass of the wastes.

...

THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE

I’m not even sure I had an end-game for this. Just a vague idea of a premise. Like, was I gonna have Luke leave Honoghr at some point? Was the whole fic gonna be him growing up steeped in the culture? Some combination of the two?

Who the fuck knows?

I certainly don’t!

#star wars #honoghr #noghri #planet honoghr #luke skywalker #Darth vader #fan fiction #alternate universe #expanded universe #au #eu #timothy zahn #abandoned project #pre-disney buyout

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