#he has soup :) this sooths my soul. Healing....

[lanitalay]

One Day : Chapter 4

Azriel x reader : based on the netflix series by the same name

warnings: lil ansgty

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

This day used to be your favorite. For years you looked forward to having fun on the longest day of the year with the people you loved. But it's been twenty five years since Amarantha locked all of the High Lords Under the Mountain. Twenty five years since Rhys made Velaris impenetrable. Twenty five years since you’ve seen any of your friends, your family, from the Night Court. Twenty five years of fae becoming sicker, life becoming duller. All of the holidays made you feel miserable, but this one in particular. At least with Winter Solstice the weather matched your gloom, but on this day the sun is shining like nothing is wrong. A mockery, really. 

So you do as you usually do. Go to the office where fae seek help getting better. Do whatever you can with the little magic you have left. Hope that the tonics, lotions and powders make up for what you have lacked for so long now. Then return to the cottage. Bolting the door, shutting the blinds and collapsing on your bed. Mentally preparing to do it all again the next day.  Today you avoid everything except your bed, because last time you celebrated the Summer Solstice it had been with Azriel. 

Azriel who you had loved for three decades. Azriel who was so excited when you told him Thesan found a replacement for you and you were to return to Velaris. Azriel who was upset when he came to help you move because Thesan asked you to train your replacement while he went to the party Amarantha was throwing. Azriel who told you to stop being so spineless. Azriel, who’s eyes darkened when you said that your world doesn’t revolve around him or his whims. Azriel who left with a slam of the door. 

The blankets felt like a prison cell around you but there was no way you’d take your face out of them. The frames on the wall of people you can’t be sure are still alive glare extra harshly in the Solstice sun. Bec’s babe, now a woman grown. You’d missed the chance to see her grow up. Maybe she’s had more children. Maybe she’d forgotten about you. You hope they are safe. Pray that if you can’t get in neither can anything else.

You feel the bed dip beside you as Lenus lays down. “I made soup.” Of course he had, because he knew that today you would be in a state and he thinks that soup will soothe your soul. He stays there for a while, just keeping you company and you know he means well but he’s the last person you want to speak to today. Because he was Lenus who got in the way. He was the reason Azriel had become more distant in the few months before Amarantha’s reign began. “You haven’t visited in months, Az.” You remember telling him. “I don’t want to interrupt you and Lenus.”

“That’s ridiculous, you’re always welcome in my house. Plus Lenus doesn’t get most of the references I make so I have to constantly explain my-” 

“Y/n, please.” 

“What?” 

“I’m happy for you, I really am but I can’t.”

“I’m- what are you talking about?” You remember that breath he took like it was your own. 

“I can’t watch you be with him. It’s unfair of me, I know, but it kills me.”

And what could you say? “Oh, I- I didn’t know.” 

The guilt was the worst. Because Thesan asked you to stay, but you only said yes to get an extra week with Lenus. By now he knows you resent him for it. He won’t hold it against you, at least not openly. Yet, you’ve caught him looking at sunsets as his eyes sparkle for possibility, hope and maybe someone else. Until he looks at you, and the sparkle fades to his usual shade of brown. 

Azriel spent this day training. Letting Cassian command him to his most extreme exercises and doing them without complaint. Because this used to be your day but for a quarter of a century it has been a wound that wouldn’t heal. After training he will fly across the city until exhaustion lets him fall asleep.

He unfortunately wakes up just as the sun is setting. Mor banging on his door. “You have to eat!” 

They don’t celebrate anything anymore. Not with Rhysand gone. Not when you're gone as well. “It wouldn’t count without them.” Cassian had said the first time a holiday came around. So they treat it like any other day. Trying to keep Velaris running without its High Lord. Azriel trying to stay afloat without half of his heart.

He’ll join Mor and Cassian for dinner. They’ll eat in silence until Cassian breaks it “you remember when y/n first met Rhys?” Mor smiles a little “she was so nervous” she adds with a little laugh. 

“She was all like High Lords are not meant to get sick, this is not taught to us in training-” Cassian properly laughs recalling. 

Even Azriel can’t help but add “and then her face when she realized he was just constipated.” 

Mor cackles “he never ate vegetables until then.”

They quiet down. Azriel half hoped that you would punch his arm and say something like “it wasn’t funny, Az!” but your chair is empty and so is Rhysand's. 

“It’s not the same without them here.” Cassian was always the first to say it. Azriel knew they all missed them. He suspected Amren skipped out on these dinners because she felt some sadness for the current situation. Even if she would not admit it. 

“Do you think y/n got married? Maybe even had a baby?” Mor asked absentmindedly and Cassian kicked her under the table. 

“I’m sure she would never get married or have a kid with how things are now.” The general said pointedly. Azriel thought it was sweet of Cassian to watch out for his feelings like that.  But they were questions he had asked himself a million times before.

If you had a child he would no doubt adore it, but if you’d gotten married… He hates the way his heart twists when he thinks of that possibility. Last time he saw you, you were in love and in a healthy relationship.

But he doesn’t like thinking of the last time he saw you. How he walked out, slammed the door. Your jaw tight and brows furrowed. He regrets so much of that day.  What he said, how he acted. More importantly, he regrets that he didn’t crawl back immediately and beg for your forgiveness.

[absentmoon]

yeah

THISIS SO CUTEEE everyone look at this right now.neow.

[lilhawkeye3]

Find Your Way Back Home, Ch 5

Riyo Chuchi x Commander Wolffe, Riyo Chuchi x Commander Fox

Rating: T |||| Word Count: 2.1k |||| Set Post Order 66

AO3 Link

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Riyo’s heart was in her throat as she slipped out of Wolffe’s room that morning, hair slightly disheveled from her pillow’s thickly woven fabric. She hadn’t meant to sleep in so late, but tried to crush her lingering guilt by reminding herself that she hadn’t slept that well in months now.

She came to an abrupt stop when she spotted Rex standing in the kitchen, staring out the window at the fields of javun with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. He looked back over his shoulder at her with a soft smile.

“How is he?” Nothing could get by the captain, especially in such small quarters with two of the people he held dear to him.

Riyo offered a tired smile. “Healing. Able to hold a conversation, and be sarcastic,” she added as an afterthought, feeling pleased when Rex chuckled. “I think he’ll be alright.”

The blond’s smile turned bittersweet. “As alright as the rest of us,” he sighed.

Her shoulders drooped. “I suppose so.”

He grimaced apologetically and turned away, back to the window and the world outside. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“But not untrue.” Riyo made her way around the kitchen, snatching her favorite mug from the drying rack and a reusable tea bag from her cabinet before preparing a drink with the hot water pot and tea leaves Rex had left out on the counter.

He spoke up as she poured water into the ceramic mug. “I’m glad it was you.”

She nearly spilled the pot all over herself with how much she jolted in surprise. “Pardon?”

Rex was looking at her again, eyes a deep gold in the morning light. “I’m glad it was you here.” He lifted his drink to his mouth, but not in time to hide his sly smile. “I don’t think there’s anyone else that could really help him now. And I know Ahsoka’s been glad to see a friendly face.”

Riyo blinked at him vacantly for several long seconds. “And you?” She asked, choosing to side-step dealing with the confused swirl of emotions that now filled her.

Rex smirked, clearly knowing she was avoiding it. “I found it nice to see that someone held true to their oaths.”

Her mind flashed back to when she’d first met Rex and his men, the renowned 501st Battalion. Orto Plutonia had been an unhappy experience, but one that she had grown much from. Seeing the lives of so many men cut short over miscommunication and greed, learning that her people were in the wrong, treating with a proud nation despite being uncertain of her place.

“‘To die for one’s people is a great sacrifice. To live for them, a greater sacrifice. I choose to live,’” she recited, those words seared into her soul until the day she died. She met his gaze with a steady look and a raised eyebrow. “What do you choose, Rex?”

He met her stare with an equally quirked brow, as if to say I’m here, aren’t I? “I live for my brothers that haven’t been freed. I live for the ones that already breathed their last.” He paused. “I live for her.”

Ahsoka.

“She chose you,” Riyo said slowly, parsing out his hidden message. “She saved you.”

“Yes.”

“She saved you… but at the cost of your brothers.”

He sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

Riyo closed her eyes, feeling the pain that rolled off him in waves. “And you blame her for it, yet you owe her everything.” She opened her eyes, and the devastated look on Rex’s face showed she’d guessed correctly.

“Sometimes, I wish she’d let me die with them,” he whispered into his mug, watching several stray tea leaves swirl in a gentle pattern. “To see them living, but not really alive– ” He trailed off, searching for something, anything to keep him afloat. Riyo rushed forward, gently taking the mug from his hands and setting it aside before wrapping her arms around his waist. She hoped he wouldn’t take offense– they’d never been close– but he readily clung to her, breaths coming in ragged pants as everything finally overwhelmed him.

She wondered if he hadn’t allowed himself to feel until now, in this safe haven on a forgotten planet.

“It’s a fate worse than death,” he finished, fingers clutching at her knitted sweater.

Riyo stroked his back, trying to help soothe him. “It is for you and them,” she murmured. “You can grieve for what you lost. You’re safe here.” She felt him tremble against her and tried to hold him tighter. “Would… would you like to come help me in the fields today? Ahsoka can stay here; she’ll be able to monitor Wolffe and come get us if needed.”

Rex exhaled shakily, but she could feel some of the tension leave him at the temporary escape she was giving him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

It seemed that Wolffe wasn’t the only trooper under her roof that she’d be helping to heal.

————————

Riyo woke Ahsoka after she’d gone to get dressed for the day. She wasn’t about to leave the house without alerting her friend, seeing that her and Rex disappearing with no notice could trigger a traumatic response. As it was, Ahsoka opened one eye to listen to Riyo’s explanation of where they’d be before mumbling her thanks and burrowing back under her blankets.

And so Riyo and Rex went out into the juvan fields.

They talked while they worked. Rex spoke of the brothers he’d lost, Riyo of the friends among the Corries. Color returned to his face and light to his eyes as the day went on and the memories piled up. By the time the afternoon light began to fade, he was able to laugh over some of the shenanigans his Torrent squad had got up to.

Ahsoka watched them both with curious eyes when they returned, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she told them that while Wolffe had been muttering on and off in his sleep, he hadn’t yet woken up again. Riyo made sure to set aside some of their soup that evening for him, thinking that he might finally be stable enough to eat. When dinner was finished, Riyo left Ahsoka and Rex to their low conversation as they spoke over washing dishes in the kitchen to check on Wolffe. To her surprise, he seemed to just then be waking.

The savory smell of the soup in her hands caught his attention first, and by the way his stomach rumbles, food was definitely what he needed. After a quick check to his bandages, Riyo held the bowl and helped him sip directly from it, finding that to be easier than trying to use a spoon. It was a slow and steady process, but she wanted to make sure Wolffe didn’t eat too fast and consequently vomit it up because his body couldn’t handle so much after so long asleep.

He seemed to be keeping it down well, to her relief, but then Wolffe mentioned needing to use the fresher, and a whole new set of obstacles arose. The first they barely managed to overcome as Riyo helped Wolffe stand by letting him lean heavily on her, and together they shuffled out of the room and to the fresher.

The second wasn’t as difficult physically, but still proved to be problematic on its own.

Riyo glares at him, unimpressed. “Can you even get your pants off by yourself?”

Wolffe’s indignant expression makes her fight back laughter. “Of course I can–” he starts, curling downwards slightly to try and pull them down far enough, but the crunch flares up his chest wound and he hisses. “Fine.”

Riyo sighed. “Wolffe, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I had to change you into these when you got here. Besides, I often walked through the Corrie barracks on my own, and one time I made a wrong turn and ended up in the Flash squadron locker room, and–”

“Alright, alright. Your point has been made,” he groaned with a roll of his eyes, and she finally caved in and laughed.

“Come on, then.” He held still as she carefully pulled down the sweatpants and underclothes, being sure not to aggravate his thigh injury. She’d been honest about seeing him bare not bothering her; anatomy was anatomy, and it was nothing to be ashamed of or shy away from, especially when acting as an impromptu medic. “There, is that good?”

“Yeah, I can–” Wolffe shifted slightly and accidentally put weight on his bad leg, nearly falling if he hadn’t tightened his hold around Riyo’s shoulders. Her hands shot out to brace his waist and keep him from toppling over.

“You’ll be able to do this alone soon, but not yet,” she reaffirmed. Closing her eyes, she jerked her chin towards the toilet. “Get busy, soldier.”

“Hilarious,” Wolffe deadpanned, but Riyo could feel him relax under her fingertips. She’d hoped her nonchalant manner would be similar enough to any medical care he’d had before, and it looks like her bet had paid off. She was a statue, solid and silent next to Wolffe as he relieved himself for the first time since waking. He was trembling from standing for so long by the time he finished, and didn’t say a word as Riyo helped him redress, wash off, and return to the bedroom. She knew how hard it was to accept help after spending so long being someone others relied on, and to be in a situation where he had no other option than to accept her generosity was bound to be even more difficult.

The unwitting sigh of relief that slipped through his lips as she guided him to lay back down on the bed was evidence of how taxing the short trip was. It worried Riyo. If he was to try and go anywhere further than the fresher, he’d need someone much stronger than her to steady him, and she didn’t know how long Rex or Ahsoka were planning to stay. She was already surprised they’d remained for this long, but she figured Rex wanted to make sure his brother was definitely alright before leaving him again.

“Thank you.”

She looked up from maneuvering the blankets back over his legs at Wolffe’s raspy voice. He was watching her again, appearing just as defeated as he had in the low light the night before. His eyes were flat, his face shadowed and paler than it normally was, which only served to heighten his haunted form.

“You’re welcome,” she finally replied after several moments of silence. “How do you feel now?”

He closed his eyes and let his head sink back into the pillows. “Tired.”

Riyo smiled lightly. “You need to rest. Can you drink some water before you go back to sleep?”

Wolffe hummed, which she took to be affirmative. When she returned with a mug of cool water, it was to find Wolffe had already propped himself up and was looking somewhat expectantly towards her. She held the mug to his lips again so he could drink and distracted herself by watching the way his eyes fluttered shut as he emptied the mug. With that done, she set it aside on the bedside table and hovered in case Wolffe couldn’t arrange himself comfortably on his back. To her delight, he was able to do it himself, albeit with shaking arms. Some progress was better than none at all.

Dusk was truly settling in and the room was beginning to grow darker with each passing second, so Riyo murmured a polite excuse and moved to leave. She was stopped by Wolffe’s hesitant call of her name.

“Yes?” Hopefully he wasn’t in too much pain…

“Can you…” His words died off as he gestured weakly towards the floor next to his bed.

Oh. “Of course I’ll stay,” Riyo agreed. “Let me wash up and change, and then I’ll be back.”

————————

His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in a steady, slow rhythm by the time she slipped back into the room. His arm dangled awkwardly off the side of the bed so his knuckles brushed the chilled floor. This time Riyo was the one to take his hand in hers and rest them on her pillow, next to her head. He was warm and solid, something real that grounded her as she drifted off to sleep.

It was too dark for her to see the weary smile on Wolffe’s face as his thumb rubbed gentle circles against her palm before he too was out like a light.

[blackicephantom]

The black dragon and the coward CH. 11

I hope this answers a few of all your questions, dear readers.

Hope you all enjoy!

tagged: @patolemus ; @runestarchild

- . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . -

Tsunayoshi cried and cried and cried. His tears fell freely and he didn't even care. The last few moments took way too much out of him. Not only the chase against that damned cat, also the trip down memory lane with Vongola Nono. Now that he remembered almost everything he wanted to stay right where he was. Right here in the capable arms of the most dangerous creature ever known. As if hearing his thoughts said arms tightened their hold and pulled him impossibly closer.

Minutes, maybe even an hour or two, ticked by before his wailing slowed down to gentle sniffing and hiccupping. One big hand had crept into his hair and pet him, slow strokes to sooth him even further and a low rumbling not unlike the one Luce had used back then. The gentle vibration and his exhaustion started to lull him to sleep. But sleeping was dangerous! So he struggled to keep his eyes open but with every second it got harder and harder.

Just as he lost his battle against sleep, strong arms pulled him into a bridal carry. Safe and secure he drifted off, accompanied by the soft order 'Just sleep.'

When soft lips put a gentle kiss on his forehead, he didn't even feel it.

-. -. -. -. -. -. -. -. -. -. -

The walk back to his den was a slow one, but Reborn didn't want to jostle his fragile cargo. Tsuna was sleeping peacefully and with even breaths. Just thinking about what almost happened woke an incredible bloodlust in the dragon. This was the second time someone put Tsunayoshi Sawada in mortal danger and Reborn had enough. With his memories back his decision was clear: this won't happen again. He made the mistake of returning the boy two times already and look where it ended! No more, they will hurt him no more!! And if Iemitsu Sawada wanted to start another war about this…. Well….. He only survived the first one because of his son. The son that was now unconscious in his arms. What does this say about Iemitsu's situation? 'Let him come and try. I won't give him up this time.'

As swift as his legs and later his wings permitted he returned to his home and laid the sleeping boy down on his bed. Ever so careful Reborn examined his precious guest and suppressed a snarl at his wounds and the chafed skin of his wrists. Just as careful he looked further down his body and encountered scrapes and bruises. `Someones going to die.´ were his thoughts. The longer he looked the more aggregated he got. But when one of his hands brushed one of the bigger bruises and Tsuna flinched, he tried his damndest to calm down. If not for himself, then for the beaten soul in front of him….

With a deep breath Reborn removed the clothing on the boy's upper body so he had access to the many injuries and set to work. As the Black Sundragon, he was wielder of his namesake flames. And sunflames were known for their revitalising and healing properties. Concentrating the flames in his palms he slowly brushed along the black and blue skin, always careful not to accidentally burn the brunette. The dragon went slow, took notice of every scar, new and old, and came to a decision.

`It was time that the Arcobaleno came together once again.´

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tsuna didn’t know for how long he slept, the only thing he did notice was a certain gentle warmth. A feeling so well known yet so strange. Something told him that it was time to awaken, that there was something important. So he struggled to open his eyes. Slowly and painfully he peeled his tired eyes open, brown orbs blinking and trying to adjust to the sudden light. For several moments he didn’t realize where he was or what happened. But when he saw the almost healed bruises everything came crashing back and he jolted upright, only to double over and clutch at his stomach. `Shit, that hurts!´ A snort coming from his right distracts him momentarily from his pain. Turning slightly he came face to face with a slightly opened, yellow glowing eye. There was just a second of silence before he crawled over, ignoring his body's protests to the movements, and hugged the dragon around his big maw. He pushed himself as close as possible and then nuzzled the scales rather fondly. Reborn, as harsh as he may be, just couldn’t push him away. With a fond sigh he gently nuzzled the boy back, always careful not to hurt him further.

“I’m glad to have you back.” were the Vongola's first mumbled words. His answer was a low rumble and a small push. Without another word he laid back down and curled up in Reborns side. Once he was comfortable he was once again engulfed in this wonderful warmth and promptly fell asleep..

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next time the young heir woke up it was already dark outside. Which means another day went by without anybody looking for him……… Slowly sitting up he looked around, searching for one certain friend of his. Realizing that Reborn was not in the bedroom he struggled out of bed, grabbed a robe that was laid out for him and went looking. Every step was exhausting, but he wanted, no NEEDED to see and talk to the dragon. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to know. What happened after Luce’s funeral? Where were the others? Just as he was about to take a small break to catch his breath he was scooped up into strong arms. “You shouldn’t be up yet, stupid child.” It was this nickname that sealed the deal. Silently cuddling closer Tsuna mumbles something like `Was looking for you´ and let himself be carried back towards the bed. After settling down again Reborn excused himself for just a moment, only to return with a small bowl of steaming soup. His companion settled down beside him and handed him the food. A comfortable atmosphere surrounded them and Tsuna enjoyed every single bite of the hot liquid that filled his stomach. When the bowl was finished he handed it over to his friend, who brought it back to the kitchen only to return and settle beside him again.

It was at this moment that the young human was at a loss. What could he say? Where should he even start? There was just so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to apologize for…. But before he could do just that he was pulled into a warm and gentle hug.

“I’m glad to have you back too.” was whispered into his ear. And he couldn't stop the tears that welled up again. So he just hid his face in the dragon's neck and held on tightly. Minutes passed by before he pushed himself away a little and looked into these captivating eyes.

“What happened Reborn? And where is everyone else?”

A weary sigh escaped the humanoid reptile. He closed his eyes and thought back.

It wasn’t long after the boy fell asleep in his arms from crying that the surviving six sat down together. Reborn held the two children and the others gathered around in a circle. “What are we supposed to do now, korra?” Silence followed that question. And even if Reborn, the so-called strongest of them, doesn’t want to admit it: he had no idea. So he decided to be honest. “I don’t know.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes before another took the opportunity to speak. “Are we really going to accept this? Just like this?” Yellow burning eyes narrowed and glared at the one who asked. “Be my guest and attack them. I’ll make sure to bury you close to her.” was his snarled answer. The Clouddragon flinched back and lowered his head. Taking a deep breath he tried to calm down again. Time was running out and they all knew it. They didn’t want to let go of their young one. But to keep this fragile peace they had no choice. That's when the violet Serpent spoke up. “This is of no use. The one that held us all together lies buried behind us. And the other one who could is to be returned to the place that tried to kill us.” A low hum came from a glasses wearing figure. “Then what do you suggest, Viper?”

Silence.

Looking down at the two children, Reborn started to talk.

“I won’t and can’t accept this. They took so much from us and yet we are the ones to surrender. But as things are now we wouldn't survive another battle.” The tension was rising when the Raindragon asked “What is your plan, korra?”

Glowing eyes looked up at his fellow dragons, the still simmering rage in them chilling the others to the bones. “Scatter. As Viper has said: there is no one to hold us together, to balance us. Which means we have to part ways or tear ourselves apart. We will take our revenge when the time has come. For what are a few years to a dragon but the blink of an eye?”

Thus the decision was made that the Arcobalo, the most feared dragons ever known, would vanish. Everyone took off in a different direction. Some returned home, others looked for adventures. But one thing always rang in the backs of their heads: The promise of vengeance, of retribution.

The roar of the mighty Sundragon was the parting gift to his friends, his tears the last gift to the boy that had become so important to them all. When said boy was savely back in the arms of his mother, Reborn turned around and didn’t look back. No matter how much it pained him, he just kept on walking and so he never saw the small hands that tried to reach for him. But he swore on Luce’s grave: he will remain here, in this very forest, and wait. Wait and watch. And when the time has come, he will call.

Black wings opened wide, a display of elegance and dominance, before the once human body was swallowed by bright flames and the reptilian body replaced it. A deep and dangerous voice spoke, so unlike the smooth silk like one from before. The head turned to the small brunette. “It is time to remind the humans of the natural order of things. We will remind them why we are still alive and why you should never touch a dragon's treasure!”

Tsuna shuddered, but not because he was scared.

He was……..touched. His found family had never abandoned him. They just needed time to heal and regroup. Somehow it was……. strange. Reborn just threatened to attack his village, his home! And yet he couldn't get angry or disappointed or even something similar. For these humans have done nothing for him. Or almost nothing. He still remembers Nono and his unseen sacrifice. A simple nudge brought him back to the present. Slitted eyes held so many promises and just as many questions. So Tsuna smiled and held the big head adoringly. “I guess it’s time to call everybody home, hm?” A soothing rumble and a sharp toothed grin was all he needed to know.

Supported by Reborns tail he followed the dragon outside and watched as he prepared.

With flaring wings Reborn rose on his hindlegs and threw his head back and released a mighty roar. Something deep inside of Tsunayoshi resonated with this call to arms, something hot and boiling. Something almost forgotten. He felt hot, almost feverish the longer Reborn howled to the skies. Then a lonely and flashing picture of Luce, of her last smile and something cracked inside of him. It cracked and then finally broke apart. Just like this his own warmth returned and his own flames, his own magic resonated with Reborn’s.

His heart thudded deep inside his ribcage.

This was the beginning of a new harmony…

A harmony that has waited hundreds and hundreds of years to be recalled.

Blazing orange eyes looked upon the proud figure of the dragon before him. `Yes, it was time.`

_TBC_

[delicatelyherdreams]

Pragma(tic) 17: Though Mighty, She Falls

Pairing: Persephone!Bucky Barnes x Hades!Reader

Summary: In a world where the old gods never truly died, you must learn to navigate your way through the ups and downs of immortality. And if living forever wasn’t hard enough, an ancient evil is now threatening to break free after centuries of silence. And as if that still wasn’t hard enough for you, now a pesky and infuriatingly handsome god is trying to wedge his way into your life. Gods, work, love, and conflict—what more could a goddess need? [Hades & Persephone AU]

Word Count: 5663

Warnings: Language, blood

Pragma(tic) Masterlist

Previous 16: He Feels His Heart Break

In all your millennia, you’d never actually thought about death. Sure you were surrounded by it every single day, but you never pondered what it meant to die—to cease to live. Death was nothing but a term to you. It meant that another soul would be joining your kingdom. It meant that a mortal’s life had ended. It had no place in your life. And yet… Now it seemed that you were staring your own death right in the face.

The spirits in Elysium had all described it in different ways. Some said it was peaceful—a sweet release from life. Others said it was the worst pain they’d ever experienced—an excruciating way to go.

You had never known such pain before. Your body was alight with angry fires. Your limbs hurt at the slightest of movements. You were always parched, your mouth never moistening. It hurt to breathe. Every ragged breath you drew in lead to a round of severe coughing. The air in your lungs was tainted gold. Ichor flowed freely from the corners of your mouth, running down your chin in thin rivers. 

You’d been poisoned. 

It was the only diagnosis Pietro could come up with. Natasha and Carol had dragged him down to the Underworld after they and Peggy got you laid up in your bed. Though he was reluctant to venture down under as it was, he did his job well. As the god of medicine and stuff like that he was the only one capable of figuring out what had ailed you. “She’s been poisoned,” he said, pulling his hands away from your head and chest. He’d done his assessment, letting his magic flow through you through the two entry points, and that was the only explanation he could come up with. 

“But you can cure her, right?” Natasha’s voice had been desperate, begging. She feared for you when she saw you collapse in the throne room. You, her strong, older sister, had never once caught a cold, and you had suddenly started throwing up ichor. She was terrified; it was a strong poison if it could cripple a goddess such as yourself so much. 

Pietro has hung his head before delivering the harsh news. “I can’t... I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s old magic, old poison. I didn’t even know that it still existed. I don’t know of anything that would heal her… I’m sorry.”

No cure; no choice other than to wait it out, let the poison run its course, and pray that you would recover. 

He’d left you with some medicine that might alleviate the pain and make you more comfortable, but that was all he could do. 

There was no hope for an immediate recovery, you knew that much when you looked into Pietro’s eyes. They had been full of pity, of sadness, like he was looking at a woman who was already dead and just didn’t know it yet. 

Your sisters were optimistic, setting off on a fool’s quest to find you a cure. Just because Pietro had never heard of one didn’t mean that it didn’t exist. He was a newer god, after all, and so he didn’t know everything. There was always a chance that there was something as old as the poison itself that could act as the cure.

You, however, knew better. You’d seen enough death and pain yourself to know that chances were this was not going to end well. 

And so, after the first week, you began to make arrangements for your absence. It had to be done anyways, after all. It would be a long time before you recovered if you did at all. The Underworld would still run, but you wouldn’t be able to do it. You barely had the strength to sit up without help, how could you have the strength to run a kingdom?

So while your mother, your sisters, and Peggy took turns watching over you and helping you do basic human things, you divided up the responsibilities of the kingdom.

Peggy, bless her heart, took over the paperwork you had to do. All the Elysium applications and the renovations and other paperwork went through her. She’d shadowed you enough to know how to do it. When she wasn’t nursing you or helping you do basic things, she was down in the office trudging through the endless mountains. 

Pierce, helpful as ever, volunteered to lead the reconstruction efforts on Tartarus, directing gods and other beings on how to contribute, and take over the more official, executive aspects of the Underworld. Being the god of Death, Pierce had taken it upon himself a millennia ago to learn the way you ran things. Aside from Peggy, and obviously yourself, he was the only one fit to rule in your stead. While Peggy was managing the admin side of the Underworld, Pierce took over the engineering and execution of all other functions. 

Together, the two of them completely filled your role, leaving you with the peace of mind necessary to get better and recover. 

Though after the third week of pain, it didn’t look like you ever would. 

Natasha and Carol told you not to think like that, but you knew. You knew how death worked. You knew how death felt. You knew that the chances of you pulling out of this were slim to none. It was only a matter of time now.

———

“Mrs. Thomas from Elysium called again.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say.”

Peggy shrugged as she took a seat on the chair that had been set up at your bedside. “Oh, you know. Just calling to ask how you’ve been doing, wondering if she can bring you over her famous soup. She’s certain it will help you get better.”

You croaked a laugh, the breath stinging your chapped lips. “She always thinks food will solve everything.” Your eyes followed Peggy as she sat down, looking at the bowl she held in her hands. “If we can get me to keep food down, maybe take her up on that offer. I miss her cooking.”

She only smiled as she reached into the bowl. From it she pulled a damp washcloth. The white was vibrant in the darkened room as she wrung it out, letting the excess water fall. She reached over and began dabbing your face with the cloth. “I’ll be sure to do that then.”

You closed your eyes under the cool surface. It was a welcome relief from the constant fire you felt. One of the downfalls of this whole poisoning thing was the fever that came along with it. In all the three weeks of the pain, the fever had never once broken. If you were mortal, the constant heat would’ve boiled your brain by now. But, being immortal, it only caused you severe discomfort and the occasional delusions. The chill of the cold cloth was refreshing and it drew a shuddering sigh from your lips. “Thanks, Peggy.”

“Of course.” She continued to move the cloth across your face, letting it rest the most on your forehead. When it warmed she dipped it back into the ice-cold water and repeated her movements. 

It was soothing—just a bit of comfort from the pain you were in constantly. You let out a shuddering breath as you sank deeper into your bed. Your chest rose and fell with labored breaths. It was getting harder and harder to breathe with every passing day. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before you couldn’t breathe at all.

As if sensing your doubtful thoughts, Peggy’s hand stilled. “You’re going to be alright. I know it. Your sisters are searching for a cure and Pietro is getting everything he can think of.”

You didn’t want to point out to her that just yesterday he was almost out of ideas. You simply nodded. “Alright…” you rasped out. Carefully you inhaled sharply, letting the air scratch at your lungs. “But let’s not discuss that right now. Tell me how things are going. How’s my kingdom?”

Being laid up, you never got to go out and see how things were going for yourself. You had to rely heavily on Peggy and Pierce’s reports. You were paranoid. You’d never been away from the throne for that long and not having your hand in the workings of the Underworld made you anxious.

Peggy hummed. “It’s recovering. The Tartarus breech really did a number on things, but we’re rebuilding. Elysium renovations are going smoothly. The crack in the wall is almost fully filled. Pierce is doing well.” 

“Then why do you sound uneasy?”

She blinked, surprised by your question, but you hadn’t missed the hint of malice and skepticism in her voice when she spoke of Pierce. Something was wrong, you knew it. 

“What’s he doing?” You locked your eyes on her face, doing your best to read her expression.

Her brows furrowed and she tilted her chin down. Her expression was confused and she was confused by her own confusion. “He… He’s doing well, almost too well. (y/n), I can’t explain it, but the way he’s acting whenever he goes out to the cave… It’s like he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s like he’s already had everything planned out. He’s doing too well, and it’s giving me this bad feeling.”

“You’ve tested him?”

“Of course I have. He’s not being controlled—not by Kronos or anyone else for that matter. He’s completely in his own mind.” 

You licked your lips and gazed up at the ceiling. “Have you been down to the cave? To inspect his work?”

“No. I haven’t had the time to. Between keeping you alive and dealing with paperwork, I haven’t been able to.” She sighed heavily and dunked the washcloth into the ice water once more. Setting it on your forehead, she said, “But I will soon; cast a spell or two of my own to help. Do anything to make sure your father stays locked up in your absence.”

You nodded your head. “Thank you, Pegs. This is why you’re my second in command.” Your smile was weak as you grinned at her, but it was there and meaningful.

She laughed at that and shook her head. “I’m not sure that that’s the only reason why, but I’ll take it.” She sighed. “How have you been feeling?”

“Oh, shitty as ever. But hey, you’ll be proud of me. I’ve only thrown up ichor once today.”

“That’s progress!” Her eyes brightened with hope.

“Yeah… Progress…” You didn’t want to tell her that that one episode had lasted nearly a half-hour as you lay hunched over the side of the bed expelling what little you’d eaten that morning from your stomach and some more ichor with it. Your tired sigh ended with a half-hearted smile. “I’m tired now, Pegs,” you said softly.

She pulled the cloth away from your forehead. “Would you like me to leave you to rest?”

You barely moved your head in a nod. “Please.”

“Alright.” Her chair scraped the ground as she pushed it back and stood. “I’ll be down in the office working. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

The sound of her footsteps echoed in the room, growing fainter and fainter until they were nothing. You were left in silence once more. It settled heavy on the room, enveloping you in the cocoon of solitude. You used to hate the silence, but now it was welcome. Even sick, you rarely had a moment to yourself. Everyone was always scared you’d die if you were left alone for even one second. There was almost always someone by your side. 

It was overwhelming.

But you almost preferred the company. It kept your mind busy and away from unpleasant thoughts about your impending demise.

Though no one around you wanted to admit it, you knew it to be true: you were dying and there was nothing that could be done about it. It was a depressing thought, really. You didn’t want to die, but it didn’t look like you had much of a choice. 

You were going to die, and that was just the way of things. 

And that was…

Honestly, not okay with you. But the pain was just mind-numbing. Sure the medicine that Pietro prescribed for you helped ease it a bit, but it would always return with a vengeance. Nearly a month of this had sapped out all the strength and magic you had, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could take it all.

But you chose not to dwell on it. You couldn’t. It would only just kill you faster.

Approaching footsteps broke the silence, tearing you from your thoughts of dying and the partial-slumber it had been lulling you into. 

Your face screwed up at the disturbance, but you didn’t open your eyes. “Peggy?” you called out, the hoarseness of your voice surprising even you. “Did you need something?”

A chuckle was your answer. “It’s not Peggy, Precious.”

At his voice, your eyes snapped open. “Brock,” you croaked, trying to muscle your way into a sitting position. You couldn’t see him when you were reclined and you refused to be prone in his presence. You hadn’t seen him since you’d sent him away all those months ago, and that conversation had been left on severely rocky terms. You’d told him to leave, ending things between you pretty harshly. You couldn’t believe your ears when you heard his voice and so you had to see him for yourself. But to do that, you had to sit up.

You didn’t get too far. The pain in your chest and abdomen flared with the movement and you cried out in agony.

Brock was at your side in an instant, his hands pushing down on your shoulders ever so gently to ease you back against the pillows.. “Shh, Precious,” he murmured softly. “Stay down, it’s okay.”

Reluctantly, you obeyed. Gods, you wanted to sit up and berate him for ever showing his face in your home again, but you weren’t strong enough to do so. So you settled for just glaring at him. “Why are you here?” you hissed in a low voice. “I thought I told you to never show your face again.”

“You did not say that, Precious,” he said, his voice was gentle and kind. “You told me to leave, you didn’t tell me to never come back.” When you were situated on the pillows again, he set one of his large hands on your forehead and brushed back your hair.

“That still meant leave,” you spat. You looked up at him, your eyes narrowing. “Why have you come? How did you get past Peggy?”

“I have my ways. You forget I used to frequent this room without anyone knowing I was ever here. I know how to get in undetected.” With that, he sat down in the chair Peggy had been sitting in not even an hour ago. He pulled his palm from your forehead and reached for your hand which was lying at your side. You were too tired to move it, so he laced your fingers together. “I’m here to see you, Precious. I heard you were sick, but I— I never imagined…” His voice broke as he looked at your face. You could only imagine how horrible you looked.

“You’re not welcome here anymore, Brock,” you growled. “You should leave.”

“No, not until you hear me out.”

“Th-There’s nothing left for me to hear! I told you to leave.”

“Precious—”

“And stop calling me that!” You yanked your hand out of his grasp and glared daggers at him. “I’m not your precious anymore. You have no right to come in here and call me terms of endearment like we’re still… Like we’re still together! You don’t have that privilege anymore and I want you—” Your lungs were arrested by a fit of coughing and your body convulsed. Pain wracked your body as you hacked and coughed, trying to expel the insatiable itch in your throat. You coughed into your hands, cupping them at your mouth to catch the ichor that was thrown from your lungs so they didn’t land on the covers.

Brock rubbed small circles over your back as if that would help ease the pain or the coughing. “Shh, just get it out.”

You wanted to curse his name, banish him from your home for forever, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have the energy to. When you finished coughing, you sat back against the pillows. Your hands were stained gold with your own ichor and it hurt to breathe.

He helped you get back the best he could, being nothing but gentle with your fragile body. He handled you like you were made of glass; like you could shatter at any second. When you were settled once more, he took his hand off of you and hung his head. “Please, Precious. I needed to come back; to apologize if nothing else. Please just hear me out.” His voice was desperate and soft; he was scared of what you would say.

You didn’t want to even give him the time of day, but because you were basically a captive audience, you really had no choice. You sneered at him down your nose but nodded your head. “You’ve got two minutes.”

“Thank you.” He inhaled sharply before he said, “I’m sorry for everything I ever did—or didn’t do—to you. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just scared of what you wanted. I thought that, if I committed myself to you, you would grow tired of me and leave or that I would lose myself in the process. I wasn’t ready for that.”

“But you are now?” You scoffed. “It’s a little late for that, Rumlow. You broke my heart too many times and I found someone who wouldn’t.”

Bucky…

Gods, you hadn’t thought about Bucky in weeks. Now, whether that was intentional or accidental, you weren’t sure; it had the potential to be both. 

It could’ve been accidental—just something that happened as a result of being preoccupied with poisoning and worrying for your kingdom.

But it could’ve been intentional—a coping mechanism designed to keep your heart from breaking further. Your body had enough to deal with; fighting the poison was taking everything you had, you had no energy to spare to deal with the pain of remembering Bucky’s devastated expression. You couldn’t even think about him without hurting.

As if on cue, pangs of agony struck your heart as his face surfaced in your mind and you fought hard to shove it back down. You couldn’t dwell on him now. He was gone. You’d sent him away. You’d said awful things.

He probably hated you now or at least didn’t love you.

You didn’t know which one hurt worse.

“Ah, yes. The god of spring.” The words were bitter and his lips curled back in a snarl. “If he loved you so much, why isn’t he at your side? Why isn’t he here taking care of you, searching for a cure for your poison like I am?”

Your eyes must’ve widened in shock because he laughed. “Yes, Precious. I haven’t been at your side these last few weeks because I’ve been searching for the cure.”

“H-How do you even know what’s wrong with me?” Your mouth was agape, though it probably wasn’t hard to guess what had afflicted you. You showcased all the typical signs of poisoning. But he hadn’t been around to see them.

He smiled softly at you. “The water has ears, Precious. Your sisters and your friend are out in the yard talking about it constantly. I have heard it all, and I think I’m this close to coming up with something to help you.”

“Is that why you’ve kept your distance? You didn’t want to come crawling to my side empty-handed?”

“Yes.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. “I didn’t want to come back to you unless I knew I had something to offer you. I know it may have been selfish, but please know that my intentions were nothing but good and pure.” He pressed his lips together as his eyes searched your face. “Please, (y/n), let me prove to you that I really do care for and love you. Let me help you. Let me stay.”

Every fiber of your being screamed “NO,” but you knew that he would argue with you and you had no energy or strength to deal with that. It didn’t mean that you’d let him weasel his way into your bed once more; it just meant that he could maybe pick up a shift in watching over you and give Peggy and your sisters a bit of a break.

Reluctantly you nodded your head. “Alright. You can stay,” you whispered bitterly.

He visibly relaxed, his lips falling into a soft smile and his eyes glistening in the dim light. “Thank you. Don’t worry, Precious.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead, letting them linger there for longer than you liked. 

At one point in life, you would’ve reveled under his touch, but now that you’d had a taste of something different—something better that only Bucky could give you—it only made you cringe and long for the lips you really loved.

He exhaled sharply, letting his breath ghost your skin, before finally pulling away and replacing his lips with his hand. His skin was rough against yours as he pet your head, brushing your hair back. He smiled softly at you, his eyes holding a promise. “I’ll find a way to heal you; I promise I will. You’ll get better.”

———

You got worse.

Brock took over your evening schedule, taking care of your dinner by helping you choke down what little of ambrosia and nectar you could and holding your hair back as you later threw it up and by making sure you could sleep and were clean. He’d talk to you at night, telling you about how the kingdom was doing, how the rivers flowed, how everything was going to be okay.

If you didn’t absolutely loathe the man, you would’ve been grateful for him. He was a calming presence at your side, just talking with you. Not pestering you about cures or technicalities of the kingdom. He just talked about whatever came to mind.

For a while, nothing changed.

But then, a week after Brock came back, you started seizing. 

Carol had been watching you that evening when you suddenly tensed up and blacked out. She said you suddenly went stiff as a board before shaking, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your muscles convulsed. She didn’t know what was going on at first, panicking as you just shook. She was unable to do anything to help you and you had a feeling that that kind of powerlessness made her scared.

Pietro was called right away and he made his entrance right at the end of the seizure as you were coming out of it. 

You were confused and dazed; you didn’t know what was going on and it made you scared. You were tired and sore and your head ached. 

It didn’t take Pietro long to diagnose what had happened.

It had been over a month since you’d been poisoned, and you weren’t able to keep anything down, so Pietro labeled it as a provoked seizure due to low ichor-sugar. With no food or drink able to enter your system, the levels had dropped dangerously low and had triggered the seizure.

And that was when they broke out the IVs and feeding tubes. 

Your mother demanded them; she was growing desperate. While the gods didn’t need to eat to survive, they did need the nutrition to keep internal levels balanced. Such nutrition typically came from ambrosia or nectar, but you couldn’t get either down or keep them in your stomach.

So, if you couldn’t get the nutrition of your own volition, they’d force it in.

The tube and needle were extremely uncomfortable. They’d snaked the feeding tube into your stomach through your nose and you couldn’t move your head without it shifting weirdly. The IV stuck out of the back of your left hand, making it impossible to move it without pulling the needle out or jamming it in further.

You hated it, but it was necessary.

Your body was in desperate need of the nectar and ambrosia; the lack of it was only hurting your health more. 

But even when you were getting the sustenance you needed, you still were not getting better. Your health continued to go downhill gradually until you didn’t even have the strength to lift your hand. Breathing alone was a chore, and it was clear that your days were numbered.

Even your family had to admit it.

You weren’t living; you were surviving and you were barely doing that.

It was only a matter of time before you were out of time.

Brock was at your side, holding onto your hand as he always did, but for once he was silent. His eyes were dark and hooded, his lips were set in a seemingly permanent frown. He was sour, brooding, thinking, and the silence that entailed was driving you mad.

“What’s on your mind?” you croaked out, breaking the silence. Your voice, though the only sound in the room, was hollow and ragged. It wasn’t yours anymore; it was nothing but a harsh ghost blowing away in the wind. 

His brown eyes flickered up to you and his face softened. “Oh, nothing much, love. Just about you.”

“What about me?” You squinted at him, fighting to keep your eyes open. Even that was a struggle now; you were so weighed down by exhaustion that your eyes refused to stay open half the time.

He squeezed your hand gently. “How even when dying you’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. I’m sorry that I wasn’t good to you like you deserved. I’m sorry I was stupid and foolish. I’m sorry I ever let you go.”

“Brock…” His apology was sincere and it made you happy and peaceful, but it wasn’t going to change anything. He’d had his chance and, even though the odds said that you would never have your Bucky again, he was never going to have another one. You’d done that game and your death wasn’t going to make you want to play it again. Sure, you were grateful that he was here to help take care of you, but that didn’t entitle him to another shot at your heart. You’d learned your lesson and you were never going to let him in again.

“No, don’t say anything, Precious. I know what you’re going to say but I can’t hear it. Just… Just let me pretend for a moment that I have you back, that you’re mine once more; just for a little bit longer.” He let out a shuddering breath then, bowing his head and resting it on the bed. “Please…”

You stayed silent. You didn’t have the energy to burst his bubble. You closed your eyes as the room fell into silence once more. Maybe you could nap now, but you didn’t want to sleep. All you did anymore was sleep and you were tired of it.

“Rumlow,” called a soft voice in the dark.

You cracked your eyes open to see Peggy standing at the foot of your bed. She was looking down at the man that was sitting beside you, her eyes cold and unfeeling. You hadn’t even heard her come in…

He straightened up, letting go of your hand and standing. “Peggy.”

The woman’s eyes glowed softly in the dim light. “You can go home now,” she said, her voice low so as to not disturb you. “I’ve got her for the night.”

“Are you sure? Really, it’s no trouble for me to stay here and watch her.” You could hear it in his voice that he didn’t want to leave.

“I’m sure. Go home.”

Brock looked like he wanted to resist, but the stare that Peggy was giving him was withering. Eventually, he backed down, lowering his head in submission. “Call me if you need anything,” he mumbled before walking out of your room.

It was just you and Peggy now, and you cracked a weak smile up at her. “You got me?”

At the sound of your voice, she turned her attention to you and grinned. “Yeah, always.” She made her way over to the side of the bed and sat down in the chair that had become a permanent fixture in your room. “How are you doing?”

“Same as always,” you choked out. “I’ll be honest with you, Peggy: I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Your voice cracked as you spoke and your chest rose and fell with labored breaths. “It… It hurts so goddamn much.”

“I know, love. I know.” She reached forward and placed her hand on your forehead, letting it sit there as her eyes fluttered closed. “I know it hurts. I know you’re suffering and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you…” She swallowed heavily and took a shuddering breath. “I think we’re running out of time, (y/n).”

You figured; but it was different hearing it said. It had seemed that there was some unspoken rule that stated that they couldn’t talk about death or how fast you were dying out loud, but now Peggy was breaking that rule and it made the situation that much more real. If everyone was being honest, you had maybe a week left at this rate. It’d been two months and, while you’d put up as much of a fight as you could, you were fighting a losing battle. 

You only nodded your head slowly. “I know we are… I think I’ll be leaving you soon. My mom and sisters don’t want to admit it, but I can feel it. And I can guarantee that if you had Pierce look at me, he’d know that I’m… He’d know that I’m dying.”

Peggy winced as the words were said aloud. Her eyes squeezed shut and her shoulder shuddered. “I don’t want it to be so.”

“But it is so, Peggy; whether we like it or not…” You inhaled sharply through your nose. “Which brings me to another point that neither of us are going to want to talk about, but it has to be done. If— When I die, I want you to take over as Queen of the Underworld.”

“Wh-What?”

“My sisters have their own kingdoms, my mother is retired, and I don’t trust Pierce enough to place him on the throne. You’re the next eligible candidate for the throne, and so I want the crown to pass to you.” You smiled up at her. “You’ll make a fantastic queen.”

She shook her head. “No, no I won’t, (y/n), because you won’t die on us. We can’t let you.”

“Peg, I don’t think you have a choice.” You took another deep breath but this one hurt you and caused you to groan. “I’m sorry.”

Peggy pressed her lips together and stood. “It’s not your fault, love. You should sleep now. I’ve got some things I have to do, alright?”

You were a little saddened that she was leaving you, but you understood. You just dropped a major bomb on her and you would want to get away if you too were in her position. “Alright.” 

She left, leaving you all alone. The room was dark, silent save for the sound of your labored breathing. It was an eerie setting: you in bed—a corpse just barely living—in the dark with only the dim light from outside illuminating the room. If you weren’t stuck there, you’d be running out as fast as possible; but you couldn’t move. You didn’t think you ever would again. 

Your eyes fluttered shut. You took a shallow breath. You clenched and unclenched your hands. 

It’s almost over. It’s fine. It’ll be okay.

So why did your heart hurt so much?

Probably because you were leaving people behind.

That seemed like a common theme in death: it didn’t hurt the person dying, but it killed everyone left behind. You couldn’t help but think of your mother and sisters, of the few gods that had been your friends, of… Of Bucky.

Oh, Bucky. You wouldn’t ever get to apologize to him for hurting him, apologize for not being strong enough to protect him, apologize for not being strong enough to live for him. You just prayed that Peggy would talk to him after it was all said and done. Maybe he could go to your funeral. You’d like that—if he was there for one last goodbye even if you weren’t. Maybe he would forgive you anyways. 

You started to drift to sleep, letting the darkness over take you, when you were disturbed by a sharp breath. Your face contorted in discomfort as you forced your eyes open, ready to chew out whoever had disturbed your sleep, but the air was sucked from your lungs when you saw the figure at the foot of your bed.

Red rimmed the man’s eyes and dark bags sat beneath them. His skin had lost its summer glow. A short stubble had covered his jaw; he hadn’t shaved in a long time. The blue of his irises was obscured by tears welling up in his eyes. His hands, large and worn, gripped your footboard with white knuckles as he stared at you, his lips parted in a saddened gasp. 

Tears welled up in your own eyes as you gasped for the air that had been stolen from your lungs. Your mind must’ve been playing tricks on you; this wasn’t possible. But that didn’t stop you from croaking out, “B-Bucky?”

Next 18: He Holds Her Close

[smokahuntis]

Who do I have to kill?

Who do I have to kill?

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker X Reader

Prompt: “don’t tell me what to do!” And “Who do I have to kill...”

Warning: mentions of death! Blood! Violence! Palpatine! Younglings...

Summery: (y/n) returns from a mission barley stable, and Anakin finds himself hearing The Tragedy of Dark Plagueis...

“Master, when am I going to become a master like (y/n)?” Anakin asked looking at Obi-Wan, who shook his head and looked at his young Padawan.

“When you are ready Anakin, (y/n) has a very high Midi-Chlorian count, she was able to master the force much faster then even Windu.” He said looking at Anakin.

“I have a high Midi-Chlorian count too master!” Anakin began as obi-wan shook his head.

“Yes you do, but she was also able to control her emotions much easier then you are Anakin. You just need training...”

“I control my emotions just fine master!” Anakin began, but as if on Cue a group of Jedi’s ran in holding someone in their arms, Anakin couldn’t see who it was until their arm fell from the holders. He caught a glimpse of the bloodied hand that dropped onto the marble floor of the temple. Tho he couldn’t see her he could sense her being close by, it was her, bloodied and beaten and being carried to the council. Once everything clicked in his head he moved rushing forward to try and get to them to see if what he feared was true, but Obi-Wan grabbed him and shook his head pushing him back.

“Let them take care of it Anakin...” obi-wan said holding his Apprentice back. Anakin could feel tears in his eyes as he felt her life force stuttered in the arms of the Jedi. Anakin fought against his master one last time.

“You can’t help her Anakin!” Obi-Wan said looking at his much taller Padawan. Anakin looked down at him and shook his head, pushing him away. “Don’t do thi-“

“Don’t tell me what to do!” He said storming past him and towards where they took her. His heels clicking on the marble, Obi-Wan fast on them to. Trying to stop him before he made a huge mistake.

Obi-Wan knew what had happened, the council was told early this morning what had happened, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Anakin yet. He couldn’t catch up with him either, Anakin was moving like wild fire towards the infirmary, swinging open the large doors his eyes locked onto the large glass container she was put in to heal, she almost looked beyond repair.

Beaten, bruised and blooded, he could see where a lightsaber Pierced her left shoulder and took away her right hand. He could feel her pain as her hair flowed in the Bacta-Tube covered in blood. He could feel her soul screaming out for help as she suffered, but at least she was asleep. At least in the Bacta-Tube she was knocked out and didn’t feel the pain she was going threw, she probably didn’t even know it was going on. But who ever did this to her did, who ever hurt her this way knew she was suffering, and he needed to know who it was.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan said as he caught up to his apprentice, looking into the room to see what had froze him. The almost naked figure of the girl he knew Anakin loved, unconsciously floating around in the thick liquid. He felt sorry for him, having to see her like this.

“You knew....” Anakin said, his voice cracking at the words. He looked down at Obi-Wan, anger flooding his veins. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?!”

“Anakin I-“

“The meeting this morning, is this what this was about?” He said looking at him feeling the rage fill him.

“Control your emotions anakin...” Obi-Wan said looking at him before he stormed off to be alone. “Anakin!”

—

Anakin found himself in her room, looking back on his time with her, remembering everything he loved, everything she loved.

“Anakin?” She said as she walked into the door, her robes dragging the ground as she walked forward. “It’s late, what are you doing here?” She said looking at him. She had just gotten back from a mission and was really tired, sweaty, and hungry. So hungry she swore she could smell food cooking.... no she did smell food cooking.

“I needed to talk to you, and I knew you got back tonight so I came and made you some food.” He said smiling over his shoulder, the smell of beef and vegetables filled the air as she smiled, running her hand over her face.

“You didn’t need to cook for me Anakin.” She said letting her cloak fall off her shoulders and her lightsaber lay on the counter.

“Oh but I did, see I know how hangry you get after missions, and it’s not good for a Jedi like yourself. “ he said pouring some of the soup into a bowl before turning to hand it to her. “And I know how cold Hoth is, and how well you love my Beef and vegetable soup.” He said kissing her head as she took the hot bowl from his hands blushing.

“You truly are a gift aren’t you?” She said sitting down on the counter. He chuckled and grabbed his own bowl before they began to eat in silence. He always enjoyed having late dinners with her, usually she would cook for him and on special occasions he would cook. Like tonight.

She was washing their dishes as he stood across the kitchen wiping down the counter, he spoke quickly and quiet, but she heard every word of it.

“I think I love you.”

A loud crash followed and glass shattered onto the floor at her feet. He turned quickly in shock and looked at her, rushing to her side.

“Are you alright?” He asked taking her hands into his checking for cuts or blood, he didn’t see anything, but when his eyes met hers again he could see it wasn’t the bowl, it was him. “(Y/n) I’m sorry I sho-“

“I love you too...” she said looking at him, her eyes pleading for him to make a move or say it isn’t true, anything but just stare back at her. And so he did, leaning down and taking her lips with his in a heated passionate kiss, his hands resting on her cheeks, pulling her closer to him.

He hated not being able to kiss her like that again, he hated not knowing if she was really gone or not. It was like he could feel her but at the same time like she wasn’t there, he couldn’t take it.

—

She was finally resting back in her own bed, Anakin sat at her side as she rested. Still hooked to a Bacta-Drip so she could continue to heal, not waking up because of it either. But Anakin was taking care of her, knowing she’d wake up when her body was ready to be awake.

Seeing her like this truly broke his heart, and he put his whole training on hold to take care of her. To hold her hands and try to soothe her pain the best he could. The amount of pain he could feel she was in almost made him take Chancellor Palpatine up on his offer.

He sat with the chancellor in their seats as he talked. Anakin wasn’t really paying attention, to focused on if (y/n) would be alright. That was until Palpatine asked him a question, he couldn’t say why but it pulled him in.

“Did you ever hear the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?” Palpatine asked looking forward still.

“No.” Anakin answered looking down at the Chancellor, who continued on his speech.

“I thought not. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith so powerful and so wise, he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create...life. He had such a knowledge of the Dark Side, he could even keep the ones he cared about...from dying.”

“He could actually...save people from death?” Anakin asked looking at the Older man. Palpatine have a small nod and went on.

“The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.”

“What happened to him?”

“He became so powerful, the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power...which, eventually of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew. Then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. Ironic. He could save others from death...but not himself.”

“Is it possible to learn this power?”

“Not from a Jedi.” Palpatine said finally looking directly at Anakin.

“You know someone who could teach me this power?” He asked looking at the chancellor.

“Yes, but you will need to kill someone first.”

Anakin stood up and began walking towards the chancellor’s office, anger, fury, power, and love, ran threw his whole body taking over for him. He couldn’t stop as he made his way to the chancellor’s office, opening the doors lucky enough to find him alone.

“Who do I have to kill?”

Tag list : @jediminddicks1000 @monamourani @killerkb123 @retrobhaddie

[shyvioletcat]

Should I be scared about pt 4 of Stupid regret?

*Sprinkling in some angst* *spills the bottle* …. I’ll let you decide for yourself

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

EDIT: MASTERLIST

~~~~~

That walk to her front door felt like an eternity. 

Rowan hesitated as he stood on the front step because suddenly he wasn’t on this door step, he was on her old one, minutes away from begging her to run away with him. That night was still one of the greatest regrets of his life, it mocked him in his dreams and was a weight he carried with him when he was awake. With a deep inhale Rowan pushed away those thoughts and stepped through the door, following the sounds of Aelin moving in the house. It led him to the living room where toys were scattered across the floor and furniture.

“I’m not going to apologise, that’s kids,” Aelin said as she draped her own jacket over the couch.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Rowan said honestly.

Aelin smiled at that. “Drink?”

“Just water I think,” Rowan said and then Aelin moved into the kitchen, flicking lights on as she went.

Rowan walked around the living room, noting the pictures on many of the surfaces. Almost every single one of them had Sam in it, the biggest of which was on the centre of a shelf. It was the one he had seen all those years ago of the three of them in the hospital just after Dylan had been born. Looking at the bliss in that photo it made Rowan so sad that Aelin had lost Sam, he was a good man and they had loved each other.

“Here.”

Rowan turned and Aelin passed him the glass.

“I never…” Rowan swallowed against the tightness in his chest, his whole body. “I never apologised for that night. Aelin, what I did, I’m going to regret that the rest of my life. It was a dick move and selfish and I shouldn’t have done it. I should never have asked you to leave him.”

Aelin stepped forward, her hand resting on his cheek. “Thank you, Rowan. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say.” Aelin stroked his cheek once before dropping her hand. Then she turned and sat on the couch.

“I didn’t expect you to be so… calm,” Rowan said as he faced her.

She had her own cup in her hand and held it with both hands as she tucked her legs under herself. “Believe me, I wasn’t. For a long time, after you left me that night I broke three glasses, cut my hand pretty bad. I can show you the scar. But, Sam…” Aelin swallowed, nodding slowly, “he… um. He soothed that anger. I told him of course, it was the only time I think I really ever saw him that angry. He probably would have tired to kick your ass if you turned up to the wedding.”

Tears were steadily falling from her eyes and rolling over her cheeks.

“I loved him so much.” Her lips wavered as she spoke.

Rowan sat on the couch, placing his glass on the floor, but did nothing more.

Aelin wiped at her face. “He-ah,” she took a shuddering breath then blew it out, “he forgave you too. He wanted me to tell you that. It didn’t take him long, he forgave you much quicker than I did. That’s because he was a better person than me. I’m still certain everyone liked him better.”

“I didn’t,” Rowan said. “But I did like him.”

That made Aelin laugh, a strained sound but she meant it. “That was awful. I’m not even going to call it joke, because I know you’re not joking.” Aelin turned and put her glass on the table beside the arm of the couch. “It really shoudn’t have taken me this long to tell you but,” Aelin shrugged. Then she looked at him, her eyes still shining. “These past few years have really been something.” 

Rowan couldn’t look at her, he couldn’t breathe. He felt like his chest was caving in on itself. “I’m so sorry. Aelin, I should have been there. I left you, I can’t…”

It was his turn for his voice to break. He had made some sort of peace with himself after he’d let her go, but he was a fool to think he was anywhere near forgiving himself for what he had done to her.

“You were following you’re heart Rowan, I can’t hate you for that, I never hated you for that. The way you went about it, showing up on the doorstep the night before my wedding, now that was something,” Aelin said. “What I regret is that you ran, I know why you did it, you were never good at facing your feelings. But you left me alone and I needed you. I almost reached out so many times, I thought maybe you’d surprise me and come see Dylan when he was born, but you didn’t. Then Sam got sick and I knew you knew, but I didn’t hear from you until after he died. A text message of all things. I was grieving and angry, I deleted a thousand replies to that message. They weren’t polite, I can tell you that.”

Rowan felt like his chest had completely caved in on itself. Aelin was right, as her best friend he should have been there right beside her for everything, the good and the bad. But he wasn’t and it was his own godsdamned fault. He’d missed her wedding, the birth of her son, all his birthdays all of hers. He hadn’t been there for her when she’d lost Sam.

Aelin’s body was shuddering with each breath she took. “Dylan was the one who kept me going. He was who I got up for everyday, the reason why I kept smiling. Even though my heart was broken Dylan kept it together. And I am so grateful that everyday I look at him and I get to see Sam.”

Rowan didn’t know what to say. Aelin was laying her soul bare before him, years of pain and disappointment. So he let her talk, let her tell him the things he should have already known — things he should have been there to support her with —  instead he had been wallowing in anger, jealousy and self pity.

“We were about to try for another baby when we found out about the cancer. He went in for a check up and they found something. It was so aggressive, there was nothing they could do. He just wasted away,” Aelin said. She was looking down, playing with the patterns in the couch cushion. “Sam has been gone for almost a year and I still miss him everyday.”

Rowan reached out and help her hand, she looked up at him, those turquoise eyes still drowning in tears. “I don’t think there will be a day in your life you won’t miss him, Aelin. And that’s okay.”

Aelin let out a broken sob then she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. Rowan held her as she cried, it was the first time he had held her in almost five years and he had forgotten how right it felt to have her in his arms. He regretted that he had waited to tell her how he felt, regretted their lost time. But he did not regret the life she had lived, the life where she had been loved better than he could have loved her, he did not regret what Sam had given her.

“I’ve missed you, you absolute bastard,” Aelin said, her voice muffled against his shirt.

“I missed you too, you brat,” Rowan said as Aelin pulled away.

Aelin was smiling, although a little sadly, as she wiped away her tears. “What has your miserable ass been up to all these years?”

“Nothing at all exciting, but I can tell you if you want,” Rowan told her.

“Please.”

They stayed up for hours talking, it was mostly Rowan recounting what he had been doing with his life. Aelin listened intently, drinking in his words. She laughed and teased him about his bad decisions and mistakes, especially when he accidentally hooked up again with an ex when she had come into town.

“How was it an accident? Did you both trip over and lose all your clothes then fall on the bed?” She’d said trying no to laugh.

“It was a very bad lapse in judgement.” Rowan said as he crossed his arms.

Aelin snorted. “Remelle was the worst, I think a brain aneurysm would be a better excuse. Or maybe a stroke.”

“Well you weren’t here to scare her off like you always did, so really it’s your fault,” Rowan practically poutred.

Aelin smiled. “Or maybe it was just your punishment.”

Aelin ended up putting a movie on despite how late it was and she lent into his shoulder as they watched. Rowan didn’t know who fell asleep first but when he woke up morning light was peeking from behind the curtains of the living room. He looked down at Aelin who was still asleep on his shoulder. A lot of hurts had been healed last night, but their friendship wouldn’t go back to the way it was. It would be something new, and Rowan didn’t regret that. Not for one moment.

~~~~~

Part 5 epilogue anyone?

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @average-girl-at-best // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel-ig // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books

[glacecakes]

Alchemy Lullaby (8/?)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did... helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

Part 8: Varian may seem like quite the happy child, but just because he's in a better home doesn't mean he's forgotten where he came from.

Warning: Child Abuse

Read the rest on AO3

All aboard the traumatized baby train! Choo choo! Warning, there is some explicit child abuse in here. If you don't want to see the worst of Ulla's abuse I would skip the italicized flashbacks.

Sorry this took so long, I couldn't decide how I wanted this chapter to play out.  A big thanks to the Varian Angst, Scar Varian, and Team Awesome discords for helping me with this! If you wanna join in on the baby train dm me  for an invite to the scar varian server where we pit baby in a gladiatorial hunger games against other au varians. He won today!

I know a lot of you are just here for dadgene baby varian fluff I SWEAR I'm doing a halloween spooky chapter, and then the next chapter is just gonna be a bunch of requests/cute drabbles. 

It started with a simple question. 

As Christmas bled into the New Year, and the days grew warmer and longer (Corona truly was the sun kingdom), Eugene pulled Lance aside and asked, “Ok, Lance, why are you here? What do you want?”

“W-ha, what? I don’t want anything! Come on, Flynn,”

“Eugene!”

Lance rolled his eyes. He’d been kind enough to call him Eugene around Varian, so as not to confuse the child, but otherwise he refused to call him that silly name. “Eugene,” he emphasized. “There’s nothing that I want! I’m perfectly happy to be here, since your girlfriend was so very kind in letting me stay for the holidays, and I just wanted to see how you were doing, and spend time with my nephew…” the list of excuses kept growing but Eugene didn’t buy it for a second. He stared at his friend, unimpressed, until he dropped the act. “Ok I need your help.” 

That night had been full of hijinks, stealing, getting panned, stealing back, and more hijinks. By the time Varian woke up the next morning, Lance had left the castle, Arianna had her ring back, and Eugene was exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, he assumed his headache was a result of it. Turns out he was wrong. 

“You definitely seem to be coming down with something,” the nurse murmured. Rapunzel and Varian had dragged him down there the second he gripped his head in pain. “You said you were up all night?”

Eugene rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s… been a crazy week,” he admitted. 

The nurse tutted, sighing fondly. “Spend the rest of the day in bed, and don’t let anyone in. While I doubt it, it could be infectious, and we don’t want an outbreak in the castle.” The adults devolved into conversations about medicines and soup and other adulty things, oblivious to Varian’s growing panic. Finally, he cried out, “No Eugene for a whole day!?” The noise sent shockwaves through Eugene’s skull, clashing against his brain hard enough to make him visibly wince. 

“Inside voice, kid,” Eugene moaned, and his kid at least looked apologetic. “It’s just for the day, I’ll see you tomorrow.” That didn’t soothe the child’s fears, if anything, it made him more upset. Crocodile tears bubbled in baby blue eyes and the whimpering Varian threw himself at Eugene, grabbing onto his shirt. 

“Don’t leave me!” He wailed, once again worsening the headache. Eugene sighed, and wrapped his arms around him. With quiet shushing and a few rocks back and forth, he managed to get Varian at least calmer. 

“Hey, hey, it’s not like you spend every second with me, what’s got you so worked up?” 

Varian whined, shaking his head. He didn’t want to tell Eugene, or Rapunzel, or anyone really. They always get so sad when he talks about it. 

Or rather, her. 

“Maybe he’s coming down with something too?” Rapunzel whispered to the nurse, who smiled and shook her head. 

“I think he’s just a little cranky.”

“Varian, bud,” Eugene raised his voice, and the sad boy lifted his head up. “Why don’t you go take a walk with Ruddiger, hm? Go get your cart. I’ll come get you in the morning.”

Varian didn’t want to leave his dad, not for a whole day, but he listened anyway. If he didn’t, Eugene could get sicker! And he loved Eugene, he didn’t want Eugene to be sick for any longer! So, with some reluctance, Varian detached himself for Eugene and off he went. 

“He’s such a sweet thing, how do you do it?” The nurse sighed fondly. “My kids back then were a nightmare and a half.” 

Eugene nodded sagely. “It’s all about boundaries. Kids need discipline and structure.”

Rapid footsteps pounded against the floor, and Varian came tumbling back in. “Wait! One more hug!” He cried, launching himself back into Eugene’s arms, who gladly nuzzled into his son’s unruly hair. He blew a wet kiss onto Varian’s cheek while he was at it. 

“Right, discipline,” Rapunzel muttered under her breath. 

-

A quick stop to Varian’s room and then the garden netted him a Ruddiger in a cart. The raccoon sat atop a mountain of pillows with his arms outstretched, ready to nab anything he saw fit. Normally, they’d be racing through the halls, screeching with delight. Varian would target the heels of passersby, glancing the wheels of his death machine at people’s feet. In particular, his favorite target was Nigel. The man had such a funny reaction! Sure, it usually ended in Varian being forced to give an apology, but the hidden snickers of everyone around always made up for it. 

Nigel usually tries to hide from him now. 

But Varian wasn’t really in the mood to chase him down, nor target anyone. Instead, for once, Varian decided to wander around his home. He’d been just about everywhere and explored everything, but it still all felt so… foreign. The old paintings glared down at him, ancient kings and queens who knew this wasn’t where he belonged. 

He kept waiting for the ball to drop, for his mom to scoop him up and for them to move on to the next village. 

He wandered around the corner, passing by the King’s study, when he heard his name whispered through the half opened door. Well, it was either his name or someone named Fairian, and he didn’t know anyone like that. Curiosity won out, and the small child peeked inside.

Frederick sat at his desk, sighing down at a letter. Arianna stood by his side, rubbing his back in sympathy. 

“The nobles aren’t thrilled about Varian, still,” the King complained. “And… I don’t blame them.”

“Is this about the party?”

“No, this is about the line of succession. If Rapunzel and Eugene get married, Varian is technically in line behind her. And he’s not of royal blood. It’d be one thing if Rapunzel adopted him, but he’s Eugene’s son. She’d be his stepmother.”

Arianna raised a brow. “Why are we worried about this now? Can’t Rapunzel and Eugene have a biological child? I’m sure Varian would love to be a big brother.”

Varian had no idea what the conversation was about, or what any of these words meant. He fidgeted at the door, debating whether or not to leave.

Frederick said nothing, staring harder at the letter in front of him. 

The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Is this still about how he doesn’t like you?” Frederick slammed his head onto the desk, and let out a yell of frustration. As if the door was on fire, Varian jumped back at the noise. However, he slowly crept back to the door. 

“Ah, ok, so it is.” She patted his back.

Sighing, Fred stood up. His shadow loomed over the entire room, landing in the doorway where a trembling child watched on. “No, it’s not that. The rocks.” At the queen’s silence he continued, “The infernal black rocks. They’re here, in the capital. Searching for Rapunzel. I just know it.”

“Quirin said they come from the moonstone.”

“Which means it’s here on the island somewhere.” The royal eyes hardened into steel. “I want more nightly patrols. The moonstone must be found, and it must be either destroyed, or taken back to the Dark Kingdom. Do not tell a soul, not even Rapunzel. No one can know.”

Baby blue eyes glanced downward in horror at the last part. 

-

When Varian was 3, they moved for the 10th time. 

For this village, momma demanded he keep his head down. He never left the house unless she let him, and that was a rare enough occurrence. So rare that when they went to the market, people were shocked Ulla had a son. 

But sooner or later, they were found. They always were. 

Ulla scrambled around the house, throwing what meager possessions they had into a case. In contrast, Varian occupied himself by happily playing with an alchemy textbook. He was finally starting to read, and while he couldn’t make out most of the words, simple ones like ‘the’ and ‘force’ delighted him. His momma’s normally pristine bun was a wreck, with hairs flying in every which way as she raced around the house. 

“Ugh, not again!” She moaned. “I swear, Varian, you’re going to get us killed one day! Do you want your mother to die a violent and horrible death, Varian? Do you want for us both to be torn to pieces or burned at a stake? Do you!?”

“No momma,” the toddler whimpered. He barely understood what any of those words meant, let alone the concept of death. All he knew was that his momma was mad and it was all his fault. 

Ulla stuffed a few clothes into the case and slammed it shut. “I swear, I have half a mind to leave you behind!” 

Varian’s eyes welled up with tears and he blubbered, “No, momma! I sowwy!” He stood up on the bed, reaching his arms out for comfort. She ignored him. Instead, she peeked out the window. 

A large, burly fist busted through the glass. Ulla managed to dodge out of the way in time, but couldn’t stop the scream Varian let out. He burst into hiccupping sobs, and a large black rock spiked up through the ground, nearly severing the intruding hand. 

“Witch!” The man in the window screeched. Spittle flew from his mouth. “Get out here so we can kill the lot of you! In the name of the King, you’re all under arrest!” 

Rolling her eyes, Ulla scooped up her son. Honestly, the only reason Varian was still alive was because she had hope. Hope that all of this would be worth it, hope that she could either get the stone out of him, or she could mold him into her weapon. So far, both have proven to be failures. Case in point. He seemed to only be able to use his power when upset or angry. She couldn’t rely on emotion like that. It’s why she didn’t have any feelings. Control, knowledge above all else. That was how she worked.

Which was why the baby really screwed it all up. 

“Would you shut up!” She hissed. After grabbing their belongings, she flung open the back door and made a run for it. “You know, I could really use a rock or two right now, Varian. Impale our attackers, scare them off? Anything?” The child only whimpered. “Useless.” An arrow whizzed past her ear. Groaning, Ulla dropped a case, reached into her pocket, and threw an alchemy bomb in the general direction of the arrow. She didn’t turn to see if she hit her target, the screams were enough. Varian, who was perched on her shoulder and facing back, winced. He’d seen her explosions before, they never got easier.

“I swear to god, Varian, if you run me out of one more town, so help me, I’m leaving you behind,” she growled. But Varian knew she wouldn’t. She said that about the last 4 towns. 

-

If he was spotted, he’d be in major trouble. It was bad enough he hadn’t told Eugene about the rocks, he was just… it just… hard. His momma hated him and she knew, and Eugene loved him and he didn’t. What if he told Eugene, and he turned him over to the King?

He wanted Eugene! He wanted a hug, a promise that Fred would never hurt him! But alas. Instead, Varian scampered down the hallway. His tiny legs moved as fast as they could carry him. From his cart, Ruddiger chittered anxiously, unsure about the destination or if it was a good idea. Varian didn’t care. He just needed to get away. Keep moving. 

Finally, he slowed to a stop. Breath after breath puffed out of exhausted lips, and Varian slid down onto the floor with a whimper. He hated this. 

Voices sounded from around the corner. Was it the King? Did he know Varian overheard him? Panicked, the child scooped Ruddiger up from the cart and hid behind a large plant. The raccoon complained with angry chitters, but Varian shushed him. 

Cassandra rounded the corner, two other maids by her side. They all carried mounds of laundry, too tall to see over, only around. 

Conversation was light, it sounded like the same gossip they always had. That was until Cassandra, unable to see, stepped right on top of the cart. Her foot flew with the wheels, and down went the handmaiden with a shriek. Clothes were flung into the air along with her, and she groaned in pain.

“What was that, are you ok?” One of the maids asked, dropping her basket to help her up. The third maid kicked the cart aside. 

Cassandra let out a grunt. “Yea, just my tailbone,” and with that, she scrambled to pick up her laundry. Varian had half a mind to run out and help her, but the paralyzing fear of getting in trouble kept him in place. He hadn’t meant to hurt her! Just like with the rocks, it was an accident! It always was!

“Stupid cart,” the third maid brushed Cassandra off. “Honestly, I wonder what goes through that kid’s head sometimes.”

-

“Experiment 87,” Ulla stated, speaking aloud as she wrote. The quill’s loud scratching, normally deafening, was drowned out by the hum of machinery and electricity. “The rocks seem to respond to electricity, acting like a conductor. The subject responds only to emotional distress,” The last part was said with thinly veiled disgust. “So, I have decided to combine the two concepts into one experiment.” Satisfied, the woman stood up from her chair and rounded around the room. 

Their house in Old Corona was their biggest by far. Ulla had grown up here, played here, dreamed of a moment like this here. Perhaps sans the electrically charged chair and terrified child. 

But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. 

Varian trembled like a leaf in the wind from his restraints. The leather bit into his skin, metal buckles pinching and tweaking. He didn’t dare struggle, though. That would just make Momma angry. She fiddled with the settings, humming in delight as the machine responded beautifully to her commands.

“If we give the test subject a series of controlled shocks, it should ignite his flight or fight response, which seems to be the biggest trigger of rocks. This is just the prototype, of course. If this initial test is successful, I’ll begin work on a collar, or some other portable device. As powerful as the chair is, it’s impractical.” Ulla wasn’t speaking directly to Varian. She never was in these situations. When he asked, Ulla insisted it was because she was a scientist. But the rambling was just that, the rambling of a deranged woman who longed for power by any means necessary. 

She glanced up at her son’s terrified eyes. They welled with tears, lip trembling. “Oh, I almost forgot!” She rummaged through her pockets and fished out a piece of fabric. “Open your mouth, Varian.” 

He shook his head, or at least, as best as he could in the machine.

His momma rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, this is for your own good! We’re learning how to control your rocks so you don’t ruin this life for us! Old Corona is our last resort. The sooner you learn to control yourself, the better. So stick this in your mouth and let momma work.” 

Varian couldn’t stop the hiccup that came when he opened his mouth, but Ulla took the opportunity anyway. She shoved the fabric between baby teeth, and pulled a nearby lever. 

The machine crackled with energy. Blue lightning sparked, lighting the room in a near ethereal glow. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so painful. 

Through the fabric, Varian let out a shriek, louder than he’d ever screamed before. It was a strange mix of painful and unpleasant, that odd feeling of his body vibrating. Varian had experienced pain before. He’s gotten bruises, scrapes, the occasional burn from getting too close to momma’s experiments. And this certainly wasn’t the first time he was the test subject. But it was definitely the worst. 

He screamed again, and a black rock shot out of the ground. Ulla’s eyes gleamed hungrily.

Then another. 

And another. 

Obsidian, pure and black, gleamed as it grew closer and closer, spiking up through the floor and towards the scientist with ill intent–

Ulla slammed down on the kill switch just as a rock sliced too close, cutting a clean streak of red through the palm of her hand. She and her son cried out in unison.

All was quiet, save for the broken sobs of a frightened child. 

But Ulla didn’t care about that. She nursed her injured hand, thoughts a violent storm.

Her plan had worked… too well.

There really was no working with him, was there?

-

“More like what is he being taught,” Cassandra joked. “It’s fine, I can use it to carry the laundry before I drop it off at his door.” Hey! Cart thief! Ruddiger growled low in Varian’s ear. Varian didn’t really notice. He was trying to stifle his cries. He could still feel the electricity, the phantom shocks sent shivers down his spine. 

While Cassandra and the maids focused on the cart, Varian snuck around the plant and broke off into a sprint. This time, it wasn’t so much fear of the people, more the fear of his mind. He had no idea what was happening to him. All he knew was that he kept remembering things, awful things, the stuff he left behind when Eugene took him in. 

On any other day, whenever he was scared, he could toddle around and plead to the nearest maid to point him to Eugene. On any other day, he could beg for a hug or a show of affection, a reminder that Varian was here to stay, that he was safe. On any other day, he could happily wander the halls, knowing if he needed anything, Eugene would be right there. But he wasn’t allowed to see Eugene at all today. 

What if Eugene decided after today that he liked the peace and quiet? What if Eugene didn’t want Varian around anymore? 

Ruddiger tucked himself tightly around Varian’s shoulders, purring sweetly. The vibrations normally calmed Varian, even lulled him to sleep, but not today. Varian flinched violently when purrs jostled his neck, and he instinctually batted at it. Get him out of the machine! Get him out NOW! 

Ruddiger didn’t take kindly to that. He was trying to soothe his friend, and this is the thanks he gets? A striped tail whacked angrily against Varian’s face, and tiny teeth bit down on the child’s neck. 

He let out a shriek, and a single, massive rock spiked through the floor. Marble lay ruined at its base, and shredded carpet floated through the air. 

The two friends froze, staring in horror at the intrusion. 

The clanking of armor and heavy footsteps echoed behind him, before stuttering to a stop. Varian whipped his head around, and came face to face with a shocked Quirin.

The man took a step forward. “Son–”

“–Listen to me,” Ulla whispered. They were in a quiet alley, away from the festivities. It was so bright out today, it was as if the sun itself was here in Corona! Laughter and music verberated from the nearby square. But Varian wasn’t focused on that. His momma looked happy, excited even! She had all day! It was so rare that Varian got to see her smile, much less at him! 

“I need you to sit here and wait for me. Can you do that, Varian? Can you be good? It’ll make me very happy.” 

Varian nodded fervently. He wanted nothing more than to make his momma happy! She always seemed so sad or angry, and nothing he ever did seemed to cheer her up. In fact, his presence only made it worse. So for her to be happy because of what he did? It was heaven!

“Ok momma!” He chirped, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“Now, don’t go anywhere, ok? Especially not back to Old Corona,” She booped his nose, and he giggled. “And don’t ask anyone where I am. It’s not important. Ok?”

“OK!” 

She sighed, staring down at him. Her eyes clouded with sadness, familiar and yet… foreign, this time. It seemed more bittersweet. “Farewell, moondrop,” she whispered. And with a pat to his head, she left the alley, back into the crowd. 

Varian was a good boy! He’d sit and wait! And wait he did! For nearly 2 days! Through hunger and thirst, even sleeping right there in the alley. But soon enough, he had to move. 

He’d hated it. He’d hated making his momma upset. Surely she’d be coming back, so he couldn’t leave the alley long! Then she’d get nervous!

So he came back. Only leaving for food and water, he came back, day after day, sitting in that alleyway, waiting. 

Hoping.

Praying.

Until Eugene showed him she wasn’t coming. 

She never was. 

The terror was too much. It felt as if the walls were closing in on him, suffocating him, clawing at his lungs and preventing him from breathing. 

He took one step away from Quirin. Then another. The man seemed pained, and reached out.

Varian bolted. 

He didn’t care if Eugene was going to be upset. He didn’t care if Cassie would yell about his cart. He wanted his Eugene. 

He wanted his Dad. 

Tiny legs, exhausted from the day of running, pounded through the castle for hopefully the last time. He knew the way by heart, and he was able to easily lose Quirin (if the man was even chasing him). Finally, he reached the familiar door. The guilt of waking a sick Eugene was heavily outweighed by his terror, his craving of someone who loved him no matter what. The door easily swung open, banging into the wall. 

Eugene sprang up like he’d been shot. “WHA-WHAZZAT? What’s happening?” He cried, eyes searching wildly for an explanation. The only one he got was Varian leaping into bed with him and curling up to his chest.

“Daddy, I- I’m sorry!” He coughed, sobs so violent they caused him to shake. Tiny hands gripped Eugene’s shirt with a vice like grip. 

Eugene blinked, flabbergasted. He’d never seen Varian cry this hard, not even after a nightmare! And wait, he called him Dad? Daddy? But his questions could wait. Right now, his son needed comfort. 

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s ok Bluebird,” Eugene’s strong arms wrapped around Varian, pulling him close. “You’re ok, I’m not mad, I love you.” The last one got a blubbery, garbled response Eugene couldn’t make out. The kid blew harshly into Eugene’s shirt. 

“Oh, ew,” Eugene muttered, but otherwise didn’t complain. He rocked Varian back and forth, shushing him quietly. 

Finally, warmth, safety, security. It was so relieving, so relaxing, Varian began to doze off. He’ll tell Eugene what upset him later. 

When Rapunzel came to check on her boyfriend, she found them both sound asleep. The little boy was still cradled in his dad’s arms.

“Boundaries, huh,” She sighed.

[korkisobsessions]

The Oath

X. Scars

Heavy rain was falling on them, and the road was more and more muddy. Nilah was exhausted but she can’t believe she is out of the prison and with Yeongshin. She was laying in the back of the cart watching grey sky. She felt like she can take a deep breath after long time.

They were not talking, Yeongshin was leading the cart towards small village, that they saw in the distance.

She was worried about Yeongshin’s wound that was still bleeding. He was soaked with rain and blood was making huge stain on his shirt. But he looked like he didn’t even care.

“We stop there. You need rest.” He shout over his shoulder and grimaced, when that move stretched his injury.

They found man who let them stay in his house for small price. Yeongshin helped her down from cart, holding her hand and supporting her, when he noticed her limping. Her leg was after time spent in prison in bad shape. She almost can’t make a few steps without limping.

They both felt relieved when walked inside, out of the rain. It was just small room, with fireplace and place to sleep. For Nilah it was luxury after her time in prison cell. It was warm and dry.

Yeongshin put down his bag and started to making the fire. He was still silent and Nilah was nervous about it.

Light knock on the door made her jerk with fear. She was still scared that Sang-Ho is somewhere outside waiting for his chance to hurt her again.

“You two looked like you need something warm.” calm voice of old man soothed her. “I brought soup and some dry clothes. Don’t worry, I will leave it behind the door...”

Nilah opened the door and smiled at the man.

“Thank you sir. You are very kind, but can I ask you, for little favour? Do you have needle and thread?”

Man smiled and give her tray with soups. Next to bowls were thread with needle and clean bandage.

“I thought you will need it. I saw your companion.” He nod towards Yeongshin who has his back to them.

“You are very kind.”

She closed the door and stood in silence. Yeongshin was facing the flames like statue.

“Can I treat your wound?” She whispered, too scared to broke the silence.

He just nodded and sat straighter. He was still in wet and cold clothes. Nilah sat down in front of him, carefully untying his blue jacket. He was avoiding her eyes, looking on wooden floor.

Her hands were lightly shaking, when she untied his shirt and brushed it over his shoulders, revealing his torso. Her breath hitched and she covered her mouth, when she saw his chest. She knows that after being chakho and his time at war must leave marks, but this was more than she expected.

Three thick scars from his collar bone to opposite hip were roughly crossing his chest. She carefully touch it with her fingertips. It must be old scar, but she was scared that it can still hurt. Skin there was lighter and softer. He closed his eyes and released breath she didn’t knew he was holding. His body was like testimony of his hard life.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered “for all of these.” Maybe one day she will know every story behind each of his scars.

But no matter how sorry she was because of his scars, her eyes were drawn to his form. His strong chest and straight shoulders. She saw a lot of naked man. She lived with soldiers and exposed torso was very usual. But she never felt like this. She wanted to touch and kiss him. To feel his body pressed against hers. To feel how warm his skin is against hers. To let his inside fire heat up her cold body. But suddenly something dreadful woke in her guts. That feeling she had, when Sang-Ho was violently moving inside her. How she felt disgusting and weak after that.

Yeongshin touched her shaking hand when he noticed her hesitation. “You are safe.”

“I know. I’m just scared that I will woke up back there.”

She quickly cleaned his wound and made few stitches. He didn’t even wince, when she was piercing his skin with needle. After she was done, she wanted to stood up, but he caught her hand.

“Nilah, I...” he took a breath but words stuck in his throat. He didn’t knew how to put his feelings in words. “I’m sorry. I...” he bow his head. “I failed you.”

“Don’t say that.” She said with tight voice. She didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want to be weak anymore, but she felt like she was slowly falling apart. “You are the only one who never failed me.”

She stood up and turned her back to him. She just wanted to take of her wet clothes. But when she removed her shirt she heard his intake of breath.

“No...” he whispered. She completely forgot about her scars from lashing. It was nothing against prison and Sang-Ho’s torturing. She quickly covered herself and took bowl with still warm soup. Her stomach was empty for too long, she almost forget how food taste.

Yeongshin took other shirt and join her. His eyes carefully watching her. And then he saw it. Little wooden swallow hanging on thread around her neck. Beom Pal must gave it to her. Warm feeling fill his inside and it wasn’t because of soup.

Yeongshin prepared place for sleep and nervously look at her. He didn’t want to ask her, if she would mind him sleeping next to her. He was scared she will refuse him. He understands if she wants to sleep alone, but he was almost desperate to feel her next to him.

She didn’t say a word, just laid down on his worn out blanket and make space for him. He took care of fire and laid down next to her.

It was dark and he heard her breathing. He knows she wasn’t sleeping, even she had her back to him.

“When I was a kid, my brother told me, that before my mother died, she gave me my name. She named me after one flower that grow in mountains.” She whispered to the dark.

“Is it beautiful flower?” he asked the most stupid question, but he was tired and nervous.

She laughed and turned her face to him. “No. It’s stubborn weed. Farmers were ripping it of their fields and it still grows there. Even after fires, it was first sprouts that grow from the ash. Nilahillgresi.” She wiped away single tear that left her eye. “I’ll be good. It will take me some time, but I will grow again. But now, I feel lost. I don’t know who I am. I’m not wealthy lady, I’m not soldier anymore. I don’t know what to do with my life. Where to go...”

Her voice was lightly trembling.

Yeongshin turned to her a held her hand. “Stay with me.” His heart was beating so fast he can heard it pulsing in his ears.

And her silence was killing him. He saw just faint features of her face. But what he saw clearly was shaking of her shoulders.

“I can’t.” She sobs. “I can’t go with you Yeongshin.”

It was like hard punch to guts. He felt like his heart is falling apart. But she continues and he can’t believed his ears.

“I love you.” She whispered with broken voice. “But my father is monster. If he ever found me...us. He will kill us both. And that is price I’m not willing to pay. He can kill me, I deserve it. But I can’t stand just idea, that my love will be your death.”

“You love me?” He was stunned. His heart hammering in his chest, full of warm pleasurable feeling. He was glad that there was dark so she can’t see his face. He felt heat in his cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter, I can’t...” she stuttered like she was surprised that all he get from her speech was that three simple words.

But he’s got enough. She loved him. That was all that matters. He crashed his lips to hers with desperation.

“Please don’t...” she cried, but still she grasp collar of his shirt and pulled him closer, her lips hungrily savouring his.

He hold her closer in his arms caressing her face, so happy that after two long years he can hold her in his arms, touching her and love her like he wanted from the start.

“I’m scared. I can’t loose you.” She whispered to his lips, holding his face in her palms. In the dark he saw just light gloss of her eyes.

“Nilah, I killed tiger that slaughter hundred of men...” he was overwhelmed by her presence, but this was clearest thing in his mind. For few seconds, he stopped kissing her and became serious.

“...I was at war and I killed Samurai with my bare hands. I fought with dead, with bravest woman by my side.” He held her hand and laid it on his chest over his heart. She must knew how serious he was. “Your father can come and try to take you away from me. He will fail.”

She let out sob, but her lips found his with desperation.

“You really want me?” she asked with worries. “Yeongshin I’m damaged. You must know it.” She shifted away from him, and sat up. His arms were suddenly empty and cold. She hug her knees and hid her face. “Sang-Ho...he...”

“I know,” he sat next to her, carefully touching her shoulder. “and I wanted to killed him for it, but if I did, then we would became outlaws. I want you to have rightful and calm life.”

“So, you want me, even after you know that I’m broken.”

He felt rage boiling inside his veins. He wanted to head back to Sangju and killed that man. To give him hundred deaths for what he did to her.

“You are not broken, you are survivor.” He held her hands, kissing her palms. “I should be asking, if you want to be with me. With man without morals. Everyone despise me and nobody trusted me.” His lips touched her wrists, feeling light scars from fire.

“I always trusted you. And I want you with my whole heart. I will always love you with pride.”

He was kneeling in front of her his face illuminated just by weak light of dying fire. And she saw how glossy his eyes were.

“Pride?” He can’t believe his ears. She was proud of him. He laid his head down to her lap and hug her around the waist. She gently stroked his face wiping away few tears he shed.

Suddenly he felt like it wasn’t her who needs to be healed. It wasn’t just her broken body. It was his broken soul.

 “Mother, please...”

He was sitting on his heals on dirty ground, with dirty worn out clothes full of holes. His little brother was playing in the corner with dirty little doll he made him from old piece of rope. His face covered of mud and dust.

“You will bring just shame on us!” His mother was pale but her face was hard. “Don’t you know what people said about them?”

“I just don’t want to be a farmer’s helper.” He was desperate. Even if he wanted to be, there was nothing to do. No livestock to take care of, no field to crop. They know just hunger and desperation.

“So, you are doing this for yourself, boy?” His mother’s voice was cold as ice.

“No, I’m doing it for you and for brother. I can earn money, if I will be good enough.” he wanted to hold her hand. To plead for her trust. Instead he bowed his head when his mother laughed with bitterness. It hurts him badly.

“You are just poor boy. Deal with it. You will never be some noble palace guard. You were born in mud and you will die in mud.”

“mother please, just give me your blessing. That’s all I want. I will be back with money. I will take care of you.” He cried. He saw scary man standing behind fence of their village. It was old chakho with thick scar over his face,  that came for him.

“Just leave! You are lucky that your father is dead already. He would die of shame that his first son became chakho!”she almost spat on the ground, face full of disgust.

His mother hated chakho forces from the bottom of her heart. They were always took as a men of questionable morals who do anything to survived. He heard rumours and legends about them eating tigers hearts, and some of them eating heart of men they defeated to get their strength. He didn’t believe that. But what if...

He didn’t wanted to leave, but with mother’s words burned to his brain, he can’t stay. How could he stay when he knew how simply she reject him.

He had broken heart for the first time. He didn’t expected it will be by his own mother.

Tears were running down his face when he took his little bag and left Sumang. He herd his brother’s cry and it was breaking his heart even more.

“You stink like rat’s ass.” Chakho spoke with raspy voice. His face was tan, with lot of wrinkles and scars. It must be sun and cruel winds that made him look like that. “Don’t cry kid, or you will looked like one too.”

He tried to calm down but mothers hateful words were echoing in his head.

“You are doing her a favour. One hungry neck less is better.”

“I know.” He nod and wipe his nose. “I just...I will miss my brother.”

“I’m your new brother. My name is Byung-Chul.”

~o~

Heavy rain was falling on his shoulders. He was wet to the bone, cold but still he remained in the forest lean on the tree. Mist was covering valley in silk dress, hiding all the dirt and poverty. He loved misty days, everything became small and safe. But now, bad news finds its way to his safe heaven. He held letter in his shaking hands fighting with tears.

Sumang was hit by disease. Leper got his mother. She was dead.

No matter how she treated him, how she despise him as chakho, it was still his mother.

When he returned to Sumang sometimes, to give her money and visited his brother, he always must see him in forest; hid from curious eyes of neighbours. His brother was always happy when they met. Listening his stories with excited eyes and so much questions. When he showed him his new scars on chest, his face got pale and eyes big.

“Hyung, did you ate heart of your enemies.”

“No, you silly.” He smiled and gave him little wooden soldier he carved for him. “We ate their brains, it taste better.”

They laugh together like fools.

His little brother was like glowing spark in his dark life.

-Your mother is death and brother is sick.- was all that’s been written in the letter.

“You looked worried, kid.” Byung-Chul came from nowhere. Sometimes he was like ghost.

For a while he was using his name, but after Yeongshin almost pissed himself, when thief shoot to his face, but forget the bullet for Yeongshin´s luck, he was just ‘kid’ again. But he didn’t mind. Byung-Chul was almost like his father, so he can called him like he wanted.

“I must back to Sumang.” He wanted to say ‘home’ but he didn’t know if Sumang was still his home. He was gone for too long.

“Yeah, you should.” His old master drank from his flask. He always take just little sip. ‘Not to get drunk, just calm my nerves. If I didn’t drink, I would rip off your dumb head’ he always said. “We will see each other soon enough, kid. Too soon to my liking. There is war coming, and King will call us to arms.”

Rain suddenly tasted bitter on his lips. War was bad thing. Unnecessary thing.

“Enjoy your time with your baby brother. Until death will came for us.”

He smiled on Byung-Chul. “I will find you, so we can die side by side.”

[boku-no-imagine-acadamia]

Could i get a sick monoma who has a crush on reader who is in class 1A, and when he doesnt show up for class, she finds out hes sick and skips her classes to take care of him?

My boy Monoma! I love him! Thanks for the ask! Also sorry if its bad, its my first time writing for him! (Also the format is weird, gotta find out how to fix that.) -Bea

Monoma is... well he’s an ass to be frank, and to most of 1A, and 1B for that matter, it is incredibly difficult to understand why he has this hatred for your class. It’s confusing to say the least. Weather it be his smartass comments or his constant competition with your class, it’s easy to say that class 1A dislikes Monoma. Well, everyone but you. Somehow, you of all people were able to weesle your way into his heart. He was disgusted with himself that he let himself fall for a member of 1A, especially you. You were just so... annoying. You were the definition of a mom friend... but like, a cool, funny, hot, mom friend. You were constantly fluttering around people, making sure they were taken care of. Perhaps he only liked you because he felt recognized by his competition when you talked to him, or the fact that you didnt care that his attitude was less than amazing. Or maybe it was the fact that when you smiled at him, the world felt like it disappeared around him. But unfortunately, a smile wouldn’t cure him. He had the flu, and it was caught far too late for Recovery Girl to heal. It was bad, really bad. His body hurt with the rise and fall of his chest, his throat burned every time breathed, and he had a dry, painful cough. And the hot flashes. Dont even get him started on the hot flashes. It felt like he

You, on the other hand, were in between classes, waiting outside the classroom door so you could walk to your next classes together. It was as routine as breathing at this point, with a set of unspoken rules that came with the tradition

1. Who ever gets out of class first has to wait for the other person

2. If the class is getting out so late that you will be late to your next class if you wait, just go ahead.

3. You always go to the closest classroom first.

It was as simple as that, so when his class was dismissed and students began to file out, you were surprised to see him missing. You stopped Kendo before she got away. “Hey! Where’s Monoma? He normally doesn’t go this long without yelling at us.” You joked lightly.

Kendo’s eyes widened, “Wait... he didn’t tell you?” You shook your head and Kendo, broke eye contact with you, “Oh... he’s sick so you probably don’t wanna hEY WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!” You didn’t hear her, as you were way to busy running to the dorms, specially 1B’s dorms. Kendo already knew where you were going, and she also knows that Monoma will kill her when he gets better. Unfortunately for Kendo, Monoma specially asked the class to not tell anyone that he was sick, especially class 1A. Something about “Not wanting the enemies to know he can get sick,” or whatever. Not like it matters.

You had just arrived at the dorms. For whatever reason, Monoma gave his spare key to you, which was strange because you weren’t even in his class. It’s not like you were complaining, you loved that he trusted you enough to give you the spare key to his room. As you shut the door to the common room, you walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, happy to find it stocked with ingredients. What were you making? Soup, a traditional sick day meal. You chucked the broth and vegetables in a pot, turned on the stove, and quietly placed the lid on top. It wouldn’t take long, but in the meantime, you decide to go see Monoma. You grabbed a bowl of ice and a cup of water, and hopped in the elevator. Standing in the empty elevator, you took the time to think. As annoying as Monoma was, the boy had carved a hole for himself in your heart. Under the mask of extravagance and disdain, he’s honestly a sweetheart. He doesn’t always show it, but he did care. It was normally shown with small actions, wether it be him packing a bento for you when he had extra food, or texting you good night and telling you how great you are when you had a bad day, he was a kind soul. That’s probably why you have a crush on him. Sure, his blonde hair and beautiful lilac eyes were a bonus, but it was mostly his attitude that made you fall for him. He was loud, angry, and passive aggressive, emphasis on the aggressive. You also admired his drive and determination. Even with a quirk that could be considered less than hero worthy, he worked his angry little ass off to make it into the hero program, and he succeeded. But he didn’t give up there, he’s continued to work hard to be the best he can be. It was incredible and very inspirational. The door opened, and you made your way to Monoma’s room. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door, hearing a grunt and a confused, “come in?” You opened the door and sighed at the scene in front of you. Monoma was in his bed, one leg out of his blanket, his other leg under, tissues surrounding his body. He had his fan on, filling the room with noise. His face was pale and gleaming with sweat, his hair stuckto his forehead. He looked up to you with wide eyes as you shut the door behind you quietly, walking over to him. You placed the ice and the glass of water on his night stand, then sat down on his bed. You just kinda... looked at each other for a few seconds, and then he tried to sit up. He groaned, his head pounding from sitting up to quickly.

You pushed him back down gently, when he finally speaks. “Why are you here?” He questions.

“Because you’re sick.” You say, grabbing the cup of water from the nightstand.

He furrows his eyebrows at you. “Yeah, so?” He states.

“So I’m taking care of you,” you hold the cup out to him, “Drink some water.”

He pushes the glass away, craning his neck in an attempt to look at the clock on his desk. “No, what time is it?” He looks back to you.

Checking the clock, you look back to him, “10:45, why?”

He sighs and rubs his face, grabbing a tissue to blot his face with, then throwing the tissue somewhere behind you. “You should be in class.” He grumbles.

“Yeah, well I’m not, I’m here taking care of you,” You shove the glass of water back in his face, beginning to become aggravated with him, “now shut up and drink the fucking water.”

He turns his head away from you and pouts, then mumbles, “Fuck you, no.”

You lean towards him, close enough to where he can feel your breath tickling his face. “Drink. The. Fucking. Water. Now.” You growl.

He turns back to you and crosses his arms over the blanket, then reaches out and grabs the cup. “...Fine...” He mumbles into the cup, taking a sip of the cold liquid. Honestly, it’s really soothing, like a dry sponge absorbing water for the first time, but he would never admit that to you.

He shoves the water back to you,“Good, now then, have you taken any medicine?” He stays silent and turns away from you, becoming fairly interested in the pile of tissues on the floor.

As you place the cup back on the night stand, you grumble, “Monoma...”

He doesn’t look back up to you, he just mumbles, “..no..”

You sigh and chuckle, “Christ. No wonder you’re sick. I’ll go downstairs and grab some. I’ll be right back.” You pat his head and he whines.

The one thing you didn’t think to ask was where the medicine cabinet was, so instead of just finding the medicine, you were forced to shuffle through the many different cabinets, until finally you found the holy medicine cabinet. You sifted through it until finally you found what you were searching for. You disided that since your down here, you may as well grab a bowl of soup for him. You take the bowl and the medicine back to Monoma.

“Ok, I got medicine and soup.” You say as you open the door. Monoma’s eyes drift from you to the soup

He crossed his arms and shivered, “Where the fuck did the soup come from.” He says, then coughs.

You put it next to the water on the nightstand, then open the medicine. “I made it, now take the medicine, then soup.” You put it in his hands.

He brings it to his nose and smells it, then grimaces and holds it as far away from him as he possibly can. “Ew gross what is this?”

You grab it from his hand and instead try a different method, “Medicine, now open up.” You say gently.

He turns his head away, “No.”

You grumble and press the spoon against his lips. “Monoma... open up.”

He shakes his head at you and turns his nose up, “Nope.”

You sigh, and realize you need to take desperate measures. You place your hand on his chest, or, the blanket over his chest, and lean towards him, putting on the saddest look you possibly can, and then whisper, “Neito... please just take the medicine... if not for yourself then at least for me?” He stares at you with wide eyes as you press the spoon full of the offending liquid to his face.

He finally opens up and lets you put the spoon in his mouth. As soon as he swallows, he grabs the water and chugs the entire things, sputtering, “Ugh, that shit is disgusting. Wasn’t there a better flavor or something?” You grab a tissue and wipe his mouth.

You pet his head lightly and smile at him. “Nope, but thank you for taking the medicine, you did a great job.”

His face brightens a little, and he turns his head away.“Tch, whatever, just give me the damn soup.” He makes grabby hands at you.

You chuckle and grab the soup, “Ok ok, fine. Here.” You pick up a spoonful of soup and hold his chin.

His face turns red, he’s probably having a hot flash, “I can feed myself.” He mumbles, but you still press the spoon against his mouth.

You grin at him and snicker, “Yeah, that’s true, but I wanna feed you, so here.”

He rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, and you feed him. Once he swallows, his eyes widen. “...did you actually make this?”

“Yeah, why? Is it the best soup you’ve ever had?” You teased lightly, giving him another spoonful

He rubbed the back of his neck“Uh, yeah.” He said sincerely... until that smirk of doom graced his face, “I didn’t know that you 1A losers can cook, but you know, I bet that 1B can-“ You put a finger to his lips and his eyes shot open and he tensed up, looking from the hand on his mouth, then back to you.

“Shh shh shh, less competing, more eating.” You giggle as he relaxes again.

You continued to feed him and talk to him for around an hour, until he looked like he was about to fall asleep. You decided it was probably time to leave him alone and head back to your dorm so he could relax and heal. As you got up from the bed, you sighed and looked at him, “Well, anyway, you have my number, so get some rest and call if you need something. Ok?” With no response for a second, you assumed he was asleep and made your way to the door.

“Wait...” You paused in your tracks, turning your head to him, “C-can you stay?” He stuttered as he gave you a sad look.

“Monoma,” you sighed “I’ll get sick.”

A look of confidence crossed his face and he grinned. “If you do, I’ll take care of you.” There was the unmistakable gleam of challenge in his eyes. He didn’t care if he was sick, he would chase after you and bring you back to bed if you took so much of a step out that door, and you knew that.

You shook your head and chuckled, pretending, and failing, to be annoyed, “Ugh, fine. Scoot over.” He did as he was told and made room for you behind him, then patted the bed. You climbed in next to him and he threw the blanket over you, then grabbed your arms and wrapped them around his torso. His shirt was hot, and it was wet with sweat, it was also... smooth?

“Monoma?” You questioned,“Are... you not wearing a shirt?”

He grinned and played dumb with you, “No? It’s hot??? Why the hell would I have a shirt?” He knew exactly what he was doing, and you knew too, so you just sucked it up and put your head on the pillow.

“...whatever,” you sighed, “just go to bed.” You closed your eyes and listened to his breathing in peaceful silence.

Until that silence was broken. “Is there still soup?” Monoma asked.

You groaned and mumbled a reply into his neck, “Yes. You can have some later, go to bed.”

“Ok.” He said happily. There was silence again for another five minutes, until Monoma decided to talk again, “Y/n?”

“What.” You snapped.

He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again, sounded much more drowsy than before.“...Thank you... I love you...” He didn’t say anything else so you assumed he fell asleep.

You took a moment to realize what he said. He loved you... he said he loved you. You barried your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, grinning like a maniac. You replied in a whisper, “...Love you too... sleep well Neito...”

Both you and Monoma fell asleep with huge smiles on your faces.

Bonus:

“Fuck you, like, actually fuck you.” You mumbled from under your blankets.

“Oh honey, is that an insult, or an invitation?” Monoma teased.

You thought about it for a moment, and decided it was definitely an insult, but you didn’t reply. He just snickered and grabbed something off your nightstand. “I told you I would take care of you if you got sick,” he grinned manically, “now.. open up and take your medicine.”

Please send requests and follow for more! See you next time!

[ebottcatacombs]

Part Two! I’ll need to edit this later, but for now I’m too tired 😴

UF Papyrus

Papyrus is a no-nonsense teacher, you learn. As soon as you tell him you have magic he takes you under his tutelage. You’ll learn from the best, he tells you, and come to find out he’s right.

His training is both physically and mentally demanding, rigourous course after rigourous course perfectly sculpted to push oh so close to your limit but not quite past it. For the first couple of weeks you nearly feel like quitting, it’s that hard. But Papyrus promises that if you stick with your routine it the reward will be tremendous, and he is right.

By the end of the first month you’re conjuring defense magic; shields that you can move to block your opponents attacks. He teaches you simple healing and protection wards, basic things but potentially life-saving.

At the end of every training session he mentions the ways you’re improving. Your focus is sharper as of late, you’ve got that stance down he showed you last week. You can see the pride in his eye lights. He tells you that your magic is a force to be reckoned with, and he is right.

You aren’t even training when it happens. You’ve just had a terrible day. Your morning training was a bust. Papyrus tried teaching you a new type of attack, and you just weren’t getting it. The two of you both ended the lesson frustrated. At work, boss chewed you out over something a co-worker did, you got stuck in a storm on the way home, and now the power is out.

Grumbling, you change into dry clothes. You wish you could dry your hair, but it looks like you’re destined to be cold and damp. You crawl under the blankets, hoping for a nap.

CRACK!

You yelp. Your lungs stall in their attempt to take in air, and you heave as you slip out of bed. It’s just thunder, you tell yourself. It’s just thunder, it’s okay. You try to calm yourself with the thought that Papyrus will be home soon.

Unless something happens in the storm.

No. No, no, you can’t follow that line of thought. Worrying won’t do any good. He’ll be home soon.

Ten minutes later, he still isn’t home.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re choking on panic.

Tears pour from your eyes as you gasp, your blankets balled up in your fists, your legs curled to your chest. Where is he?! Your head feels tight and full and your chest throbs. Everything is too much. It’s too much.

You don’t see the spikes of defensive magic surrounding your bed.

A noise comes from downstairs. You pause. It happens again. You can’t make out what it is, but it sends your panic into overdrive. Someone is trying to break in. A tree was struck and fell against the house —

Boom, boom, BANG.

Your magic flies out. Giant winged creatures, the color of your soul, swarm around you. They buzz angrily, ready to attack the intruder. You curl tighter in on yourself.

Clunk, clunk, clunk. Boots on the staircase. You sob, terrified. You can hear them approach. You will your magic stronger. There’s a voice, but it’s muffled. Drowned out by the buzz of your swarm.

“—ING? STOP!”

“No, no, go away, no no no nononono!”

CRASH. The intruder shatters one of your barriers. You scream.

SWISH, CRUNCH. They’re taking out your swarm.

Desperately, you try to conjure more warriors, but the stranger takes them out faster than you can make them. You scramble back blindly. You don’t even know which way is up anymore, how are you going to escape?

They grab you.

“NO! NO, LEMME GO, NO!”

“Y/N, STOP! IT’S ME — OOF!” Papyrus holds your leg steady with one hand, pinning your wrists with the other. “LISTEN TO ME, YOU’RE SAFE!”

“No, no, no....” You’re tired. You can’t struggle much more. You attempt more magic, but all that comes out is a sad spark. Like a lighter low on fluid.

“None Of That, Now.” Papyrus pulls you into his lap, cradling you firmly to him. “You’ll Exhaust Yourself. From The Looks Of Things, You Already Have. I’m Actually Quite Impressed, Though. Had Anyone But Me Attempted To Get To You, You May Have Dusted Them.”

The words don’t process, but his voice is soothing. His chest is warm where you’re pressed against him, alive and humming with a promise of protection. You’re eyelids grow heavy, and you let your head lull his arm. You’re so tired...

When you wake later, you notice that the storm has passed. You also notice you have an enormous headache. Papyrus sits on the edge of your bed. He looks to be reading at first glance, but his eye lights shift about and after a few minutes he doesn’t turn the page.

He’s so distracted he doesn’t even notice you’ve woken up.

“...Papyrus?”

To your surprise, he jumps.

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to—” the words ‘startle you’ die on your tongue. Partly to spare his pride, and partly because you realize how sore your throat is. “What happened?”

He gestures to a glass of water and some ibuprofen on your bedside table.

“You Had A Panic Attack, I Believe. I’ll Tell You More Once You’ve Gathered Your Bearings And Have Some Food In You,” he says, voice soft. Strange. His voice is never soft. “Sans Is Making Soup. Of Course, You’d Benefit More From My Nutritious Cooking, But We Both Agreed It Was Better That I Stay Here To Look After You.”

You give him a tired smile.

“How Do You Feel?” He shifts closer, checking you over. You pull him down next to you, tucking yourself under his chin.

“Tired,” You murmur, falling back asleep.

You rest for a few more hours, only waking when Sans brings in supper. The next morning you and Papyrus talk about what happened over a breakfast of gingerale, toast, and more pain medicine. You tell him about you increasing levels of stress, and how the storm had been the last straw that caused you to panic. Papyrus explains that work ran late, and when he tried to call you there was no reception. He tells you the storm door hadn’t been closed all the way when he got home, and you realize that must have been what was making the banging noise.

“Hm.” His fingers card through your hair. “I... Believe That Some Changes Will Have To Be Made To Your Training Regimine. It Occurs That I May Have Been. Overworking You. This Most Likely Added To Your Growing Stress, And For That I... I Apologize. Furthermore, Magic Underground Was A Means Of Survival. Because Here, Above Ground, We Do Not Have To Constantly Fight For Our Survival, It Does Not Make Sense To Teach You As Though That Was The Circumstance.”

You blink. “Papyrus, it’s okay.”

He holds up a hand. “It’s Not. I’ve Always Believed My Way Of Teaching Was Right, Right For Everyone. But It’s Not. I... Was Wrong. I Was Wrong, And My Teachings Negatively Affected Your Health And For That... I Am So, So Terribly Sorry.”

You’re speechless, and honestly a bit teary-eyed. Papyrus lifts your hand, presses it to his teeth.

He’s never admitted he was wrong before.

[yawninginf]

Fade: Childish Ch.1

Summary of series: Wind feels he doesn’t fit in because of his age. He just needs an oportunity to prove his worth to the others, and himself.

Notes: Look at that I wrote a second fanfic! I’m sorry it’s not the sequel ti Instict cause I just couldn’t get it flow. Let’s just hope I manage finish this series. Expect grammar/vocabulary mistakes cause English is not my native language, typoes etc. If you bother to read this and spot a mistake while doing so, please correct me.

Warnings: blood description, death (but not death), very little minor angst

Universe by @linkeduniverse

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

Wind is upset.

He feels burried under a ton of worries, questions troubling his mind and lots, lots of anger. He can’t seem to stay still. He wanders around the camp, picking up random rocks and throwing them into the campfire that is slowly turning small branches as well as large pieces of wood into ashes.

He prefers not to look at Hyrule, or his glare will fall onto the head wound he carries and is still pulsing pain into him because of Wind.

The injured hero is sitting on a fallen tree log covered in wild mushrooms and dark moss, surrounded by plenty of ancient, towering oak trees. A bandage stained with mud is poorly wrapped around his scalp and the dried blood makes his tuffs of hair glue together in an unpleasant way. His hairstyle is messy, there are hairs dyed red from the blood that has fallen onto them and mixed with dirt and dust. His expression gives out the rough day he’s been through, but that doesn’t stop a faint smile from forming on his face when he sees the youngest hero.

Wind sighs in annoyance, trying to get away from the guilt and nausea stiring up his stomach. It isn’t his fault the rest of the group always assumes he needs to be pampered.

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

“Wind watch out!” An ambush. Nothing more than a few bokoblins and even less moblins. Piece of cake. It should hage been. “I’m fine-I’m fine I swear!” Wind is in the middle of a bokoblin gang, three or four of them staring aggressively at him and softly but threateningly tapping their wooden clubs on the back of their ugly hands. Wind doesn’t wait for them to strike.

He sprints towards the biggest of them who seems to be their chief and lets out a loud clear battlecry. With his increased speed he raises his sword and is ready to stab the flesh of the vicious creature but it turns to the side just before the fatal strike lands at it’s target. Wind stumbles upon the gap in front of him and uses all of his strengh to keep his balance, dangerously leaning to the front. He is about to sigh in relief when he hears the floppy footsteps of the creatures a breath away from him. A raised bokoclub, he turns to try and reflect the hit but he knows he can’t manage on time.

Hyrule is nearby. He doesn’t hesitate to try and protect his younger friend. He runs, not being aware of his surrounding, not hearing Wind’s unfinished protest against his action. Time stops as he falls to the ground, drifting a scared Wind below him.

The bokoblin lowers it’s weapon and it’s mark is now Hyrule’s head. It goes down with a hollow thud and red blood starts to ooze from the wound.

Hyrule feels dizzy. The world beside him starts to shake and he can’t keep his eyes open. He feels stinging pain pulsing from the side of his head and a sudden heat has taken over the upper side of his body. His lips are trembling and when his look falls on the scratched but unharmed Wind, he fades away, closing his eyes.

“Please….I won’t forgive you if you die on me” a whisper and Wind’s terrified, panicked face meets with his injured friend’s. He doesn’t have time to care for the injury since the monsters are still threatening their lives. He turns his head up and realises with terror that he has lost his sword.

Warriors is the nearest to them and as Wind sends his glare up to him, he is already pulling his blade out of the dead body of the last bokoblin. Everyone pays their attention to the badly injured Hyrule quietly sleeping on Wind’s lap. Blood is everywhere; on Hyrule’s hair, on Wind’s clothes, even on the ground and the club that did the damage.

“QUICK!…..HELP HIM!” shouts Wind with a cracked voice and immidiately looks down at his friend, then at the vast amount of blood on his hands, feeling terror and a glimpse of disgust at the same time.

Warriors kneels down by them and checks Hyrule’s pulse, the rest of the heroes running towards them, showered in worry. “Is he…” Legend says with a low tone, afraid to let out the words.

“No. But he will if we don’t get him a red potion right now. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

Sky rummages through their stuff and relievingly takes out a glass bottle with a red liquid inside. It has something…magical in it and you can tell by giving it a simple look. You can’t explain it. As you watch the liquid flow in harmonic circles inside the bottle, form assymetrical waves and move like a dancing fairy, a creature made by pure magic, ready to take away all of your pain. Observing it feels like the soft soothing by a mother to her child, it’s gentle movements wash away every worry, they relax every tense muscle of your body.

Hand by hand the bottle is passed down Time’s grasp and with the help of Four he pours the healing potion into the limb mouth of the fallen hero. He subconsiously gulps it down his throat and his breathing immidiately becomes easier.

He mumbles something like an ancient saying in his sleep, then suddenly opens his eyes wide and stares at Wild. His eyes become slits from the pain as his palm touches his wound. He makes an effort to get up and before he can collapse to his knees, Wind pusses him up from his armpits and along with Sky they support his weight until he is ready to count on his own legs. “I’m okay” he says “I just need to wash the blood off, and a bandage…”

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

Wind ignores the gesture politely ment for him because the back of his mind is always returning to the morning battle. He sould have been quicker. And they should have let him take the blow. Why was acceptable for Hyrule to be injured and not for Wind? “Like I haven’t been hurt before” he murmurs under his breath and soon the cook of the group catches his attention.

Wind watches as Wild makes their lunch, a soup made of garlic, boar meat, carrots and….other ingredients he isn’t able to identify. He looks so absorbed into what he’s doing, and the way he lovingly stirs the soup in the pot gives out his passion for cooking. This is the only time his characteristics seem to be relaxed and his muscles not tense. He expertly knows exactly what to add in the pot, when, how and the right amound of it. After a while Wild notices the young pirate’s soft glare pinned on him. He feels confused for just a second, then gifts Wind with an akward, yet pure smile, coming right from the depths of his finally calm soul.

The pirate continues walking around the place their camp is set. On the corner of his eye he can spot Time and Twilight practicing with their swords further at the nearby glade, showered by the light of the midday sun.

A peacefull feeling, able to break into the hearts of the coldest soldiers. A gentle breeze softly moves the leaves to the direction of the dense forest, all tints of green mixing together in a feast of nature. Bright and long grass turns golden under the sunrays randomly falling onto the petals of the prettiest flowers one has ever seen. They say an image is worth a thousand words. A pity Wind doesn’t care for words at this moment. He lets the two related heroes bond together without being interrupted and walks away, taking his moody disposition with him.

Every occasion the other heroes had shown their disbelief that he can manage what they can, comes to his mind as a blury memory, for his brain has found the perfect time to mess with him and play games. He can’t control it.

He tries to get his attention elsewhere–ah, Four is just coming back from the deep of the forest, carying a bunch of cut tree branches that will be used to keep the campfire lit for Wild to cook.

The weather surrounding their camp may be all nice and lovely, but their destination is covered in thick fog and dark mist, so they aren’t moving forward yet.

Four is struggling under the weight of the wood on his hands and is tilting right and left while he’s walking, as if he is about to fall every second.

Wind’s eye shines, the thought of being helpfull washes his pondering away. He starts walking towards the shortest hero, eager to help as he can. He is cut midways by a running Sky that offers a helping hand to Four. “No thank you-I-I don’t need help but it’s kind of y–” he trips over an anomaly on the ground and the hero of the sky grabs him on time to not fall face flat on the dirt.

Unfortunately or not, the branches he was carrying don’t avoid that fate and slip off his hold with a loud thud. As Four turns to face a bright-smiled-Sky and thank him, Wind is brought back to his misery.

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

“We need more wood to last us until we start venturing again” Time announces, “any volunteers?” Wind felt more excited than ever to bring the resources back to the camp. He raised his hand up, feeling restless as he put his weight on one foot then the other playfully, imperceptibly hopping from his desire to make himself usefull.

Time looks around in unsatisfactory. Everyone has an excuse to not take the task and so far Wind is the only one available, his eyes faintly screaming “me, me!”. Time sighs and is about to announce Wind the responsibility of the chore when Four puts himself in. “Wind can keep his rest. I’m sure he is tired from the fight.”

“But I–”

“It’s okay, I’ll go. I don’t have anything important to do either way.”

Wind crosses his arms and huffs in annoyance. His breath blowing out of his mouth drifts some of his bang hairs out of the way but they come back at their original place right after.

He accepted it. Partially. Although now, it all makes sense to him. In the back of his head, he always has a suspicion that the others find him too young and a fear that, maybe, they’re right. Now he considers it’s all clear. But he will prove them wrong eventually.

“Right?”

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

Dawn. Everyone is gathered around the campfire, its light seemingly becoming brighter as the colours of the sky begin to fade, taking their last form before nightfall. The majority of the clouds are dyed in a breathtaking way by the setting sun; shades of pink, like the petals of a young rose, darker in some parts and even velvet red in others. The whole sky has surrendered its light blue colour to an orange tint that makes you feel as if you were living inside a dream you wish you wouldn’t wake up from. It feels like observing the life of another being from a far away realm, like dwelling on a parallel universe.

“Technically, we are” Wind points out to himself in an imaginary, sarcastic tone and he feels nausious out of a sudden. He feels moving in all directions, as in a mysterious dance that shakes every bit of his existence. Glaring at a wide eyed Warriors swallowing earlier than he should have done, at Wild tripping over nothing and his bangs moving like choochoo jelly when he manages to get up, at Four as the sword he was inspecting slips through his hands, at Legend cursing under his cut by the seizures breath, at Sky supporting his body by pushing his belly and looking ready to throw up any moment now, at Time and Twilight sending looks of agreement to eachother, he knows he is not losing his mind. It is shaking, just not in the way an earthquake would. Not in the way the sea would move his ship, had it wanted to shake the life out of every member of his crew. No, the place around them still seems as peacefull as a graveyard near the time the sun should start its journey to the top of the morning sky.

They’re changing worlds.

Again.

The beautiful view of the sunset changes to that of the pitch dark, starless night, earlier than it should have, the colours fade more quickly than normal. The trees fall even though they are still proudly standing skyward, the ground is on fire even though the grass and wildflowers remain unharmed.

And suddenly, it starts to rain. Peacefull are the salty droplets, they follow gently one another until they reach their landing spot and meet with falling petals of the blooming nature that were lifted to the sky by the whole process. Wind looks around in surprise. His mouth opens widely, slowly, without being ordered to, as he realises they are still at the same Hyrule. He directs his head to the others and their expression is as troubled and surprised as he feels. “Is it over yet?” the younger hero thinks and a tint of hope brightens his eyes.

He of all people should have known.

It’s calm before the storm.

There’s a fallen tree log covered by various mushrooms, a lot of them could kill you if you attempted to make them your next and presumably last meal. They all subconsiously look at it like they have just witnessed the destruction of the most precious treasure to be guarded in the deepest and most secure place in all of Hyrule.

And just when their eyes are settled on the log, it happens. The sky seems to tear open in a deafening sound not easy to be defined and starts to pour all the mass of water Wind’s Hyrule would offer for the fish to live and the sailors to travel.

Thunder strikes right on the tallest tree in the whole forest, cracking it open just as an apple would be torn in two pieces after you cut it with a decent knife. The Links all flinch back at the sight and their shocked gasps can be heard echoing all over the place.

Wind tries to gulp his fear away but he just can’t escape the panic forming on his face, he can’t slow down his ever increasing heartbeat. With his eyes he searches for a way out of the storm, a way to stop the shivers running down his spine.

Another sharp lightning tears the sky. It doesn’t fade in the horizon, it travels all the way to the more and more unstable ground, it lands a breath away from a hyperventilating Wind and the sock makes the pirate fall to the earth.

“WIND!” He hears a worried cry from one of his friends, he is too afraid and shocked to find who the voice belongs to.

The youngest hero crawls a few steps back and with panic he turns his head, realising the others are slowly turning into dust. Wild is layed on the ground, his hands reaching out and slowly vanishing and leaving a hole where they should have been. Twilight is kneeling beside him, staring at his trembling fingers, slowly turning into dust soon to be caried away with the raging gusts of the wind.

Four glares at the little left of him, his arms and legs are gone, his torso starts decaying as well, the spots his parts once started are covered in mist and dust, spreading all over his body like an infection. He looks up to Hyrule running towards him. His eyes have nothing left of the courageous hero he thought he was.

“FOUR!!” Hyrule screams in despair watching as the last bit of his friend’s existence fades away. “No…no no no, NO!” This can’t be happening. Not to them, not now, not so quickly.

He looks around. Time is now starting to go through the process. Twilight is gone. Wild, Four, gone. Wind is still on the ground when finally he gets up seeking for help and decides that Warriors’ protective arms are the closest to safety.

Wind is sobbing now, not because he is afraid to go, he is just afraid to let go of his new friends, his family.

“Why..?”

The rest?

They fade too.

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

The pirate feels like falling.

He is falling and he lands hard as well.

He looks around him. He sees the others. They have some bruises and scratches and most are rubbing their head.

“Are we…dead?” He mutters seemingly confused and scared.

Wouldn’t they not feel pain if they were dead though?

“I–I don’t think so.” Twilight replies.

Wind stays silent and makes an effort to get up. He shoves the dirt off his pants ignoring the stinging he feels from the various scratches all over his body.

Just like everyone else, the youngest hero looks around in awe and tangled emotions. They haven’t died, they have just moved to another world. Nobody seems to recognise this place and address it as his Hyrule. It doesn’t feel like Hyrule at all. The trees are few and odd, they look like none the heroes have ever seen, or every one of the species combined.

The Links are trying their best to understand what has just happened, without success. Whispers and theories are exchanged but the pieces do not seem to stick together.

“Anyhow, wherever we are at the moment, we can’t be assured that the inhabitants are not hostile nor that there aren’t monsters lurking in the corners of this world.” Time lectured, implying they should not be caught off guard. At the sound of the eldest’s voice, everyone stood quiet.

“Now, check your stuff and what we lack. Cherish your wounds and ready yourselves; we have some exploring to do.”

[themadamelibrarian]

Mend My Changing Heart ~  Part 10 of Loving Heart

Written By: @themadamelibrarian & @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell​ Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Gabriel/Lucifer/Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural), Lucifer (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Injured Sam Winchester, Arguing, Mild Gore Summary: Sam faces his mortality. So just another day for a hunter, but what about the Angel’s he loves?

LINK ON AO3

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“Dean, dammit. I’m fine.” Sam grunted as he pressed his gauze filled hand against the werewolf scratches on his thigh. Well, not so much scratches as gashes, either way it would be a night of painkillers and stitches.

“Like hell you are.” Dean growled as he dropped the first aid kit on the Impala’s seat beside his brother. He’d driven the both out of the county they’d been hunting in, like the hounds of hell were chasing them. Dean pulled the heavy duty scissors out of the kit and cuts away the fabric. When he pulled Sam’s hand away from the wound, the younger hunter pales as a fresh fount of blood squirts up into the air. “Son of a bitch! He must have got an artery.”

“Hospital.” Sam said weakly as he blinked to stay focused on Dean.

“No, not when we got dial an angel. Besides, they’d rip me apart if I didn’t call.” Dean said as he pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Don’t… worry them.” Sam said as he lost consciousness.

“SAM!” Dean shouted as the phone rang Lucifer’s line. He reached over and slapped at Sam’s cheeks to rouse him. “Wake up, Sammy.”

Lucifer picked up. “Dean? Dean, what’s going on?”

“Get your feathered ass to us. Sam’s bleeding out and there’s no time to take him to a hospital.” Dean explained quickly, his voice rising in barely veiled panic.

“On my way.” Lucifer hung up and looked at Gabriel. “Sam’s bleeding out. I got a marker on his location. Let’s go.” With that he took off and landed in the backseat of the Impala. “What got him?”

Gabriel didn’t have time to do anything but follow and landing neatly in the front seat. “Merciful Father.” He whispered when he saw all the blood.

“Werewolf. Told him to not get so close but he wanted to beat the setting of the moon. Last in the cycle.” Dean looked at the angels expectantly. “Can you heal him?”

Lucifer nodded and looked at Gabriel. “You start from the bottom, I from the top, meet in the middle?” He asked, already accessing his Grace.

Gabriel nodded. “Watch out for doggie bugs.” He quickly moved out of the car so he was standing in the open door where Dean was seated. “Hold still Deano.” Gabriel leaned over the older hunter and took hold of Sam’s bare ankle and concentrated, letting his grace flow in a steady healing trickle instead of going full force. It was damned tricky to heal humans as an Archangel. Too much juice and you turn them into chunky monkey soup but too little and it was not better than bandages.

Lucifer also was careful not to shove too much healing power into Sam as he worked from the hunter’s head, concentrating. His heart raced at seeing Sam so lifeless in the back seat of the Impala, triggering his protective instinct to the max. “What have I told you about being reckless, Sam?” He murmured in Enochian as he healed his boyfriend.

“Not to be. If I recall.” Gabriel answered for him, also slipping into Enochian.

“Like he listens.” Lucifer muttered, working on his shoulders now. Anxiety spiked through him at the mere thought of losing him.

“What are you two talking about?” Dean asked as he listened to the two of them. He was worried that there was something going wrong, and that’s why they weren’t speaking English around him.

Gabriel took a moment to glance up at the older hunter. “Don’t worry, Deano. Just gossip around the sewing circle.”

“Well quit the gossipin’ and get sewing.” Dean growled at him.

“We’re working on it, Dean,” Lucifer said simply. He got to the part where the werewolf had sliced into Sam and looked at Gabriel. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are. But I’m worried about the werewolf passing to him. It feels different than any I’ve felt before and he’s not been bitten.” Gabriel moved his hands to brace just under the wound, his fingers slipping in the blood.

Lucifer cocked his head to the side. “Alpha, maybe?” He asked quietly. He placed his hand over his brother’s.

“I hope not.” Gabriel muttered as he concentrated on his grace, pushing a tad harder than he dared before.

Lucifer did the same thing, grimacing as he worked. He found the werewolf inside of Sam and gritted his teeth. “Gabe. Out.” He ordered.

Gabriel jerked his hands away and backed out of the car, taking Dean with him. Dean let out a shout and struggled with him. Gabriel slammed him against the side of the car, pinning him in place. “Let him WORK, Dean. Or we may lose your brother to more than blood loss.”

“What?” Dean looked lost as he stared into the car. “But.. it’s just a wound, right?”

“It’s more than that. The werewolf was different, and he has to purge Sam of the infection or we’ll be adding chew toys and a doggie bed to the nest.” Gabriel said quietly so as to not interrupt Lucifer. “If you want to be useful, pray we can stop it.”

Lucifer struggled and fought with the infection, swearing under his breath in Enochian as his protective instincts took over and he went on autopilot. The part of his Grace that wasn’t fighting the werewolf soothed Sam’s soul, told it he was here, that he was getting rid of it. Sweat beaded his brow as he finally forced the infection out of Sam’s body. “Dean, eyes, closed,” he ordered as his Grace seeped through his Vessel to crush the threat.

“Shit.” Dean swore as he threw his arm over his eyes and turned his back to his brother and Lucifer.

Gabriel bent down to watch the process closely. Ready to step in if either Sam or Lucifer needed him.

Lucifer crushed the infection without too much trouble, using a little tendril of Grace to finish Sam’s healing before nearly collapsing next to him.

Gabriel patted Dean on the shoulder to give him the all clear, then round the car to go to Lucifer. “Heylel, are you two all right?”

Lucifer nodded and took a deep breath. “We’re okay. Just need rest.” he breathed.

He kissed his brother’s cheek and stroked the top of Sam’s head. “Then you rest. I’ll get us and this metal beast home.”

“Hey, she’s a lady. Not a beast.” Dean protested as he checked Sam over.

Lucifer smiled sleepily and fell asleep.

Gabriel and Dean made sure both passengers were comfortable before Gabriel gestured for Dean to get behind the wheel. “This might be a little bumpy but I’ll get us home.”

“Don’t you dare scratch her.” Dean warned as he slipped into his seat.

Gabriel smirked as he secured the doors and laid his hand on the roof, taking a moment to tease the older hunter. “Does Cas know you invited a third into your relationship?”

“Bite me, you gumdrop sucking menace.” Dean grumbled as the group disappeared from the rural setting, leaving no trace but a faint set of tire tracks in the gravel on the side of the road.

*******

Lucifer awoke slowly, groaning softly as he snuggled deeper into the nearest body- Sam, that was Sam’s body, and Dean was curled up behind him, Gabriel behind Sam, and Castiel looking confused at the dogpile of angels and Winchesters. The eldest yawned and nuzzled his face into Sam’s neck. “Morning, Castiel.” he moaned.

“I wasn’t aware we were sleeping over last night or I would have joined you.” Castiel said as he sat at the foot of the nest. “I’ve missed the.. companionship at times.”

Lucifer groaned and cracked his neck. “I wasn’t aware either,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. “Blame Dean for that one.”

Castiel knew that since his brothers had become intimate with Sam, Dean was reluctant to spend time in the nest. Something about sanitary conditions, so for him to willing sleep there with sheets and blankets he knew hadn’t been changed was peculiar. “What happened?”

Lucifer cracked his back and popped a wing joint before answering his littlest brother. “Sam got hurt last night. Badly.” he whispered. “The hunt didn’t go as cleanly as they thought. The werewolf passed something onto him, despite there being no bite. I got in and got it out, but… it wore me out. I fell asleep.”

“That is strange. Most of all it was so taxing that you needed rest.” Castiel stood from his spot and rounded the nest to come to Lucifer’s side and resting a hand on his forehead. “Are you well now?”

“I’m better.” Lucifer admitted, looking up at Castiel. “Sam…. I don’t know. We’ll see when he wakes up.”

“He will be fine, Lucifer.” Castiel assured him as he sat on the edge of the nest behind Dean. “Winchester’s are resilient if nothing else.”

Lucifer nodded and sighed. “I know. Just… protective instincts I guess.”

“And that he is the first human you’ve loved.” Castiel smiled fondly at his brother. “Sometimes if find myself fearful of what may happen when Dean goes on a hunt or even leaves my side. Humans are fragile and fleeting in life when compared to us. But what I must remind myself of is that even if they die in this world, we have eternity in heaven.”

“That’s still a depressing thought.” Lucifer chuckled, looking up at his brother with equal fondness. “Unless we become bonded to them.”

“True.” Castiel looked down at Dean’s sleeping form with a frown. “He rejected my offer to bond. So I must treasure each day I have by his side.”

Lucifer frowned and sighed. “Gabriel and I have yet to ask Sam if he would like to bond with us.” he admitted.

“Do you wish to?” Castiel looked up curiously.

“Yes.” Lucifer confessed. “I really do.”

“Then you should ask him.” Castiel stood from the bed and straightened his overcoat. “In the meantime, I’ll get everyone some breakfast. Call me if you have need.”

“Of course.” Lucifer murmured, snuggling his face into Sam’s neck.

Castiel disappeared with the snapping sound of wings in flight. Just then, Dean murmured behind Lucifer and rolled over, pressing the length of his body against the angel’s back with his arm snaking around his waist. His dreams turning towards a certain brunette angel and quickly falling into less than innocent imagery.

Lucifer smiled and relaxed into Dean and Sam.

Dean groaned once more, rolling his hips against Lucifer and pressing his erection against the angel’s ass. “Cas.” he sighed in his sleep.

“Yes, Dean?” Lucifer murmured sleepily.

The hunter kissed the nape of Lucifer’s neck. “Cas.” he whispered again while his hand rubbed small circles on Lucifer’s stomach.

“Ummm…. Dean?” Lucifer asked a little louder.

Dean woke with a small groan but didn’t open his eyes. His mind still half in his dream and the other half slowly rising to consciousness. “Need it, baby.” He murmured as he continued to rut against Lucifer.

“Ummm, Dean? I think you got the wrong angel…” Lucifer mentioned. “As flattering as this is.”

With a sharp inhale, Dean blinked open his eyes and pulled back to see Lucifer in his arms. “Oh shit.” He scrambled backwards, misjudging the distance to the edge of the nest and fell out onto the floor. Muttered cursing could be heard from below the bed as Dean thumped his head on the carpet in self rebuke.

“You okay there, Dean?” Lucifer asked, rolling over and peering over the side of the bed in curiosity and mild amusement.

Dean sat up, his face turning red as a beet. “I’m fine. I was dreaming and… Dude, I didn’t mean to… dammit.”

“It’s okay,” Lucifer soothed, looking down at him. “It happens, and when you’re sleeping I can see how I got mistaken for Castiel.”

“Yea, well. Still feel like an ass.” Clearing his throat, Dean rubbed a hand down his face and stood. “Sam awake yet?”

“No.” Lucifer said, giving a gentle smile.

Dean looked over his brother’s sleeping form curled up against Gabriel and nodded. “Well I’ll let him sleep and go make breakfast and find Cas. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him when we got home. Then I need to hit the books. That werewolf is still out there.”

“He’s in the kitchen.” Lucifer supplied.

“Thanks Luci’, for helping Sam and well, not kicking my ass for dry humping you in my sleep.” He said with an embarrassed smile as he grabbed his shoes from the floor.

Lucifer laughed softly. “It’s fine, Dean. You were asleep and in a way, it’s flattering.” he said.

“Yea, well, I don’t think Sam would see it that way.” He headed towards the door and looked back. “Any special requests for breakfast?”

“That you shut the hell up about dry humping my brother.” Gabriel grumbled from his side of the nest. “I’m trying to sleep here.”

Lucifer chuckled and nuzzled into Sam again. “Not really Dean. Thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Dean said briefly and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Gabriel sat up with a grumpy groan, scratching the top of his head. “Now I’m awake, dammit.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer mumbled.

“Don’t be. I didn’t need to sleep in any way.” Gabriel rubbed the sleep from his eyes and turned to look at his brother. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Lucifer admitted. “Not as good as before, but a hella lot better than after I healed him.”

“Good.” Gabriel brushed a bit of hair off of Sam’s face. “We almost lost him, didn’t we?”

Lucifer nodded and buried his face into Sam’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

“And you.” Gabriel glanced at his brother. “A healing shouldn’t have taken so much strength from you.”

“I know.” Lucifer agreed with a sigh. “I don’t know why it did. It just… fought. Fought harder than anything I’ve ever met.”

“That doesn’t sound very comforting.” Gabriel huffed.

“That’s because it’s not.” Sam mumbled into the pillow but did not try to move or open his eyes.

He kissed Sam’s cheek. “Hey how are you feeling?”

“Like I went out drinking and have a hangover from hell.” Sam groaned. “But I’m alive.”

Gabriel placed his hand on the side of Sam’s face and let his grace wash over the human, healing whatever traces of trauma were left in his body. “How’s that?”

Sam took deep breath and opened his eyes as the general aches and nausea disappeared. “Much better.” Sitting up, he rested his back against the headboard and looked at each of the angels. “What happened? Last thing I remember was Dean trying to patch me up.”

“You passed out Dean called me I did most of the healing and fell asleep.” Lucifer groaned nuzzling into his pillow.

Sam looked contrite but worried. “You fell asleep?”

“The infection was a fighter and stronger than I expected. And therefore I needed to recharge.” Lucifer groaned and stretched. “It was not a pleasant experience.”

“Infection? What infect…” Sam stopped speaking. At first he thought Lucifer was talking about a typical infection but then he realized he was talking about Lycanthropy. “I was turning.”

“Yes, you were. And can we take a moment to push home what we told you a few weeks ago?” Gabriel admonished as he turned so he could face the both of them. “About being careful?”

“Seriously, Sam, we’ve talked about it.” Lucifer admonished. “You need to be much more careful than you have been, especially with this last hunt.” He sat up and squinted at his boyfriend.

“I am careful. This one was different is all.” Sam tried to explain, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“Isn’t that what you said the last time you went on a hunt? That djinn hunt?” Lucifer asked with an arched eyebrow.

“And that turned out fine.” Sam huffed and crawled out of the nest. Crossing the room he pulled out dresser drawers for a change of clothes. “Sometimes things happen that are beyond my control.”

“Sam.” Lucifer said, getting out of the nest as well and walking over to him. “I get worried, that’s all. It triggers my protective instinct, not to mention that the time Gabriel and I have with you is finite. It’s limited. What… What if I couldn’t save you? What if you died?” His voice got sad, and he rested his head on Sam’s shoulder.

“Then I would have died.” Sam stated as a matter of fact. “I’m human. I live, I hunt and someday, I will die.”

“That’s very Buddist of you. But impermanence is a poor excuse for rushing in after a werewolf.” Gabriel raised his eyebrow at the two of them. “Especially one that could infect by scratch instead of bite.”

Lucifer nodded in agreement to Gabriel’s statement and held Sam close. “It nearly had you.” he whispered. “It was so close to having you, Sam.”

Sam turned in Lucifer’s hold and kissed his temple. “But I’m here now and I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

Lucifer nodded and sighed, burying his face into Sam’s neck, needing to reassure himself that Sam was okay, Sam was safe.

“Dammit, Samuel.” Gabriel growled. “You don’t get it do you? You damn near turned. Do you have any idea what it would do to us to have to… but you don’t care do you? You think you made peace with dying because you’re a big bad hunter.” He launched himself out of the nest and stormed over to Sam, hands balled into fists. “Well I haven’t. Lucifer hasn’t. And don’t get me started on what deals and tricks your brother would do to get you back.”

“Well gee, Gabe. Why don’t I let you and Luc’ put me in a little glass case that says break in case of horniness?” Sam snarled back and slowly backed out of Lucifer’s grasp. He was more affected by the events of the past 24 hours than he cared to really admit. It scared him… it really did, but he was so deeply entrenched in this life he couldn’t see any other path than the one he was on.

“Guys, could we please not fight?” Lucifer asked quietly, doubting he’ll be heard.

“We’re not fighting. I’m trying to pound some sense into him.” Gabriel said a little harshly, not directed at Lucifer, but still sharp.

Sam closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he’d finished, he took a deep breath. “I’m going to take a shower and when I get back, I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”

Lucifer nodded and headed back to the nest, not wanting to deal with the animosity filling the room at a rapid rate. He went almost like a puppy with its tail tucked between his legs.

The bedroom door clicked with a finality that shook Gabriel to the core. He stared at the space Sam had occupied before he picked up a framed picture of the three of them and hurled it across the room to shatter in a spray of glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned and crumpled to the floor in front of the dresser and sobbed. Drawing his knees up and wrapping his tawny wings tightly around him, shielding him from the world.

Lucifer got up and made his way over to Gabriel. He knelt down by him and wrapped his baby brother in his arms, rocking him gently. “I know.” was all he said. No other words were needed.

Gabriel opened his wings enough to take Lucifer into the embrace and held onto him as he let his fears and anger out in a torrent of tears. They stayed that way until Sam returned freshly showered. The hunter saw the glass shards on the floor and the angels curled up with each other.

“What happened?” He asked even though he had a fairly good idea what the answer would be.

Lucifer tried to shush Gabriel, and he looked up at Sam with soft eyes filled tears, rubbing his back as he did so. “Do I need to say anything?” He asked quietly.

“No.” Sam replied as he put his dirty clothes in the hamper. “You really don’t.”

Lucifer nodded and turned back to comforting his brother.

Sam glanced back at the two of them, his own heart aching but he had a duty they didn’t seem to understand. If he and Dean didn’t do what they did then who would? “If this is a way to get me to stop hunting, it won’t work.”

Gabriel’s breath stilled as he slowly raised his head to glare at Sam. “You think..?” He pulled back from Lucifer and dashed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. “Heylel, I have to.. I’m going back to heaven for a bit. Before I say something we’ll all regret.” Gabriel kissed his brother gently and disappeared without standing.

Sam turn sighed as he went about the task of cleaning up the broken picture.

Lucifer stood up, glaring at Sam. “Alright. Real talk.”

“Thought that was what we’d been doing since I woke up?” Sam huffed as he tossed the larger broken pieces into a trash can.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I don’t think it was that ‘real’, to be honest.” he informed him. “Sam. I don’t really think you understand what we feel whenever we see you hurt. When we see you passed out in the back of the Impala about to turn into a werewolf which I cannot heal, and neither can Gabriel.” He took a deep breath. “We understand that you have a job to do and believe me it’s a noble job. But we want you to understand we are fucking concerned when shit like this happens. And ALSO, to be quite frank, that was a low blow. We don’t want you to stop hunting that was a stupid thing to say. It’s not every day you see Gabriel break down into fucking tears and then you say that?! No wonder he got upset. That wasn’t cool, Sam and if that’s the way you honestly feel then you need to reevaluate us, because that’s not what we feel at all.” Hot tears slid down his face. He turned away and tried to hold himself together, needing to be the strong one, for once.

Sam stopped picking up glass and hung his head. He’d acted like an ass and he knew it. Knew it while it was happening and now everything was out of balance. Two angels upset over him, it was something hard for the human to really fathom, even after all this time. “It’s not.” He whispered. “I’ve faced death and been dead more times than any person should but this time.. I know what the reapers say about us. No more take backs or restarts. But I can’t stop being a hunter just because it’s dangerous or because it worries others.” He looked back at Lucifer. “I don’t even know how to be normal now if I tried. And in a way it’s comforting and terrifying all at the same time.”

Lucifer nodded and wrapped his arms around Sam. “We know and we understand. How do you think I feel all the time?” He murmured, kissing his cheek. “We want you to be more careful, that’s all. Not be so reckless. And that hurt Gabriel more than he’ll let us know. I don’t want to know what he was thinking last night after I healed you and needed to rest for the remainder of the night. And you were passed out before I even picked up the phone with Dean.”

“That’s the problem, Luc’, I wasn’t reckless. I’m getting older… slower.” Sam dropped his head to the side to rest on Lucifer’s shoulder. “And the monsters are getting.. worse. Changing and evolving. It’s not like it was before the cage and one of these days I’m not coming back. I know this and I’ve had to accept it.”

“There’s always something we can do to prolong that, though.” Lucifer whispered softly. “And honestly, I’d fight every reaper I could to bring you back, and you know it.” He rubbed Sam’s back. “It scares us. More than we can care to admit. Gabriel and I aren’t used to this. You know this. And then with me naming myself the protector? I tend to overreact to everything. You… You don’t know what it’s like. To know you’re gonna live forever and that the man you love is one day going to die. Its…. it’s painful.”

“So where does that leave us?” Sam asked, his voice low and tentative. Part of him always afraid that something would pull them apart and considering Winchesters’ hadn’t been all that lucky with relationships for nearly forty years he kind of expected it.

“Well, either Gabriel and I will have to make peace with it, or there’s another option, but I would have to talk to Gabriel about it.” Lucifer said. “But we’ll get through it. We always do.” He kissed Sam chastely. “I love you, Sam, and I want to savor every moment you’re alive and have you grow old.”

“Don’t forget senile.” Sam said with a hint of a grin. “Sitting on a porch forgetting what year it is and laughing at squirrels.”

Lucifer chuckled quietly and brushed his lips across Sam’s nose. “Yes. And when it’s time for you to go, Gabriel and I will bring you up to Heaven.”

“Not a bad retirement plan.” Sam took a long breath and sat up from Lucifer’s hold. “I’ll apologize to Gabriel when he gets back from wherever he flew off to.”

“Okay,” Lucifer whispered. “Now, why don’t you go get some breakfast, and I’ll finish cleaning up.”

“You sure? I’m kinda the cause of it and it wouldn’t seem right to leave you with the mess.” Sam asked as he surveyed the mess left to clean.

“It’s okay, I got it.” Lucifer said kindly. “Besides, a healing hunter needs their sustenance. I’ll get food later.”

“Alright.” Sam placed a gentle kiss on Lucifer’s lips and whispered against them. “I’m sorry I was an ass. I really do love you and didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I know.” Lucifer whispered back, stroking his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “I love you too.” He smiled.

Sam stood up with a grunt. “I’ll save you some bacon. Unless Dean ate it all.”

Lucifer smiled and let his human go before cleaning up the rest of the mess. He found a spare frame to put the picture in and he laid down on the bed to relax after everything that happened. His Grace was recharging still and that worried him.

Tagging: @copperseraphim @thenanahunter @idabbleincrazy @truxblooded​

[yzareenxiv]

“A Gift.”

The house seemed very, very empty when Zareen walked in the door. She noted wearily that the soup and bread, the rolanberry tarts, were all still cooling in the kitchen- left there, forgotten no doubt in their hurry to take advantage of the gift she had given. Her feet felt heavy as she walked into the kitchen and marked the blood on the back of one of the chairs. Forgotten, too. Unnoticed.

She started trying to clean up but her hands hurt and her arms stung from where her claws had marked them and finally she threw one of the bowls a little too hard into the sink and it shattered.

A wail started from upstairs and Zareen sank down to her knees and echoed it. Her head dropped into her hands and she cried, silent beyond that first sound, willing her daughter to find her way back into sleep as she, herself, tried to find a way through the razored edges of her broken heart. The baby quieted after a few minutes and Zareen's ears folded back as she muffled her weeping with one hand as the other brushed away at her tears despite the stinging of salt against the cuts in her palms.

When the worst had passed, she pushed herself up off the floor and left the kitchen in disarray, unable to look at the place where she'd found such happiness. The walls still carried laughter and she could not bear to hear it now. The bedroom was worse, but it is where her healing supplies were. She looked at the empty bed and felt bile rise in her throat before turning away resolutely, moving over to her dressing table and pulling bandages and salve from one of the drawers. After a moment's thought, she reached up and took off the ever-present jade amulet she wore and dropped it on the table, along with her string of linkpearl earrings. Turning away from the items was hard, but not the hardest thing she'd done that night, and after the first step, the second, the third, she was able to walk away from them without feeling as though she was leaving part of her soul behind.

She fell asleep on the bridge in the garden, her upper arms and hands bandaged and salved, tears making her eyes feel gritty and hot and unpleasant, one ear turned to the open window of the nursery.

-----------

"You're so beautiful when you weep." His voice is a caress in the darkness and she shies away from it, letting out a perfunctory snarl.

They are not in the long hall with the grand dining table now. It is a sitting room, elegant, with chairs on spindly, improbable legs and tables so filigreed that they couldn't possibly hold anything heavier than a handful of flowers. A fire roared in a grand fireplace and she sat in the only chair that seemed substantial enough to hold weight- a great winged monstrosity that sat alone in front of the fire.

He was there in the darkness behind her, but the sides of the chair would not let her see him. There was just his voice, rising from flickering firelit shadows.

"I am not weeping."

"You are, I can taste your tears."

"Liah."

"I might say the same."

She started up from the seat and whirled around, not realizing she was in one of the gowns he so preferred to see her in. "Be still youah tongue, damn you!"

He was suddenly and simply *there* behind her, between her and the fire, his hand brushing the weight of her hair to the side so he could bend and whisper into her ear.

"You always knew he would break your heart. Come to me, my orchid. You deserve such reverence..."

His sigh was heavy with disappointment when she spun around with her claws outstretched towards his throat. A mirror above the fireplace reflected his crimson attire and the glow of red, red eyes as he watched her from across the room. "I would treat you better. Attire you in extravagance, house you in opulence, worship you, give you all that I have and all that I am. If only you would be mine."

"You *lie*." She hissed, storming towards him. He did not back away even as she slapped him, the pale, pale skin splitting under her claws and bleeding a thick, tarry ichor that made her jerk her hand back before it could touch her.

"Do I?" He mused softly, then lifted a white gloved hand to his cheek as he slowly smiled at her. "Who else knows what you are as...intimately as I do? Who else has been here, waiting, offering you *everything*? Your family can't do what I can do, be what I can be. Yet you will not even give me a chance..."

"Gilded-tongued liah! You ah a demon and I *will* find you and teah you apaht with my own hands. Get out of my head!"

With a heavy sigh he bowed, placing his hand over his heart, and she was suddenly surrounded by darkness. Something was hunting her. Something was chasing her. She was naked and alone, without magic or weapons or family.

She started to run.

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

The night terrors woke her up screaming a couple of bells after midnight. She reached out for him, listening for the roughness of his soothing voice, and her hand found only the freezing wind and her ears heard only the the white-capped ocean waves hitting the shore. Shivering with both cold and residual fear, Zareen sat up in complete confusion, at first not remembering why she was here instead of warm in her bed with her mate.

"One night and one day. A gift."

Oh.

The realization twists a blade in her heart and she closes her eyes before forcing herself up to her feet and back to the house. She hesitates before the door, her hand on the knob, then pushes it open after a moment of steeling herself. The house still feels too empty, but it is warm and out of the wind and as she closes the door she feels the chill melting away with the pain of pins and needles. Something in her stomach twists and she looks around the main floor of the house before going upstairs on leaden feet. She did not look at the desk, nor the bed, but walked straight into the nursery. Pulling an extra blanket from the cupboard, Zareen curled herself up into a small ball in the comfortable nursing chair and willed herself back to sleep. The twins would need feeding soon, life would carry on, the sun would rise and when it set he would be home again.

Maybe, maybe then, it would feel like a home again.

[syntheticmask]

Mistakes and A New Friend (A Metallic Fate Chapter 3)

Writers block is a b. Nonetheless, I finally got this chapter out. BatIM belongs to theMeatly. A Metallic Fate AU belongs to me. My headache was gone when I woke up. I yawned tiredly, attempting to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I had momentarily forgotten that I wasn’t in my normal body anymore, and a wave of panic overtook me when I felt that my eyes were nowhere near human. “Oh… right.” I slowly relaxed after the previous day’s experience returned to me. I lifted up my left arm to check that my memories held true… yup, made of metal and half of it missing. At least it looked like the bleeding had stopped.

I returned my attention back to my lower half. Everything around and below the scar on my spine was sore. How come my upper body wasn’t like that when I first woke up? Perhaps I was asleep longer than I thought. I tried to swing my legs back and forth now that I had regained feeling in them, slowly due to the soreness. I could feel them responding in turn, but they were still off the edge of the table and out of view. I then attempted to roll my ankles and wiggle my toes, just to make sure everything was there… I couldn’t feel my toes. I suppose this body didn’t have any. I wasn’t all that worried, I could do without them.

“Let’s see if I can sit up yet.” I thought out loud. I reposition my usable arm underneath me. I took a deep breath of anticipation, and pushed myself up. A sharp jab of pain from my healed wound was the price I got for going too fast. I winced, staying in my current position until the pain began to dull. I then continued to push myself up cautiously, finally reaching my goal. I lifted my arm up slowly, testing if my spinal column could still hold up my weight without any support. It was a success. I breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing my hand over my scar to try and ease the soreness. It seemed to help a bit, as though I was actually massaging the area despite the lack of any skin.

Finally, I drew my attention away from my scar and to my legs. They were longer than I expected them to be, since I wasn’t able to see my feet from my previous position. They sort of looked like those large cartoon shoes Bendy always wore, but kinda sorta incomplete. Explains why I couldn’t feel any of my toes. I lifted up one of my legs onto the table, which seemed easier that it should have been. It was likely from the absence of a single joint, and in place of it remained one, two… four joints. Wait, actually, if each one of those larger sections has a joint on each end then… eight joints? Maybe even nine? Anyways, It appeared they couldn’t bend as far as a normal knee could, so when bending my leg, each joint contributed. Speaking of joints, my arm appeared to act in a similar way, but with only… never mind, it had the same number of sections.

I was antsy to stand in two legs again, but I had to be slow, especially if they weren’t fully repaired. I didn’t want to end up collapsing from my own weight. I cautiously scooted closer to the edge of the table, to the point where my feet almost touched the floor. Hesitantly, I supported myself again with my right arm as I reached down, finally hitting solid ground. As I began to put more weight onto my foot, everything seemed like it was fine. Sore, but not any real pain. I set my other foot down, and took away my support from the table. A grin spread across my face as I made a full turn around on my feet.

‘Haha! Yes! Step one complete.’  I cheered to no one but myself. I still took it slow, but I began walking around the room. Having so many joints instead of a single solid knee was messing with my ability to walk straight, but I was getting the hang of it quicker than I would have expected. I eventually circled back around to the front of the table, taking another look at my hand.

“I guess this body isn’t as bad as I thought… well, except for the missing arm.” I chuckled, trying to brighten up the gloomy atmosphere with a small joke. I finally lifted my head and took a real look around the room. It was the same as before, with the broken ink maker and the wri- wait, hold on. The writing on the wall was gone. I raised an invisible eyebrow up in confusion. “The ink’s gone from under the table, too…” I muttered to myself after taking a kneel to get a better look, finding that the space where my old body should have been was completely empty. I stared at the spot for another while longer before my mind could come up with a possible explanation. “Is that how the ink got in my body…?” I knew the ink could corrupt someone if they came in contact with the stuff for too long, but it was still confusing. I had been very careful to avoid the stuff for as long as I could, but with all the floods and puddles and the decreasing sight of anything able to wipe it off before it took it’s hold… I suppose it had finally gotten to me, even when I was already dead. I had to give it some credit, though. How else would I be alive right now? I tried not to think about the other poor souls who were currently stuck in purgatory due to its properties. Was I now in the same boat…? “No, no. Just… just think about something else for now.” I shook my head to clear my thoughts, focusing back on my current plan. Continuing on briefly with the second step, I gazed around the room once again to anything else of importance. There were a few other work tables set up in front of the same wall. The closest one had two duck-like heads sitting atop it, one partially painted and the other completely blank. The other had another tool box on top of it, presumably empty, and- “A tape recording?” I must have missed it earlier. I approached the oddly large device and pressed play. The voice of Lacie Benton, as written on the side, rang out. “The only thing that works around here is my ulcer. Half these people don’t know a wrench from a dang steamroller. Buncha morons is what they are. Spend their day in the warehouse arguin’ over who’s supposed to be doin’ what or playing them silly games. Still, I’m not complainin’. I get most of my time to myself. Suits me just fine. Only thing that bothers me is that mechanical demon in the corner. Bertrum’s been working on it for a month now. Says it’ll walk someday and maybe dance. All it does now is give me the creeps. I swear, when my back’s turned… that thing’s movin’.” The tape ended with a familiar click. “Well… I suppose said robot is finally able to walk, and- ” I tapped the tips of my feet against the metal floor. “-even dance, despite the fact that I’m terrible at it.” I chuckled to myself. I attempted to do a small twirl, just for the fun of it. However, I was still getting used to all the little quirks and details about this body, and didn’t fully take into account my new weight, or strength for that matter. I stumbled off balance as soon as I pushed off, tripping over my own feet and tumbling to the floor. I landed with a metallic crash on my left side, unable to slow my fall. Pain shot up my upper body as the fall jarred my previous wound and created a new one. I soon came to a rest on my back, holding my side with my arm in an attempt to soothe the ache. Odd as it was, the pain seemed to dull quickly, and I was able to catch my breath soon after. When I lifted my hand to examine the damage dealt, all that was left was a slowly darkening spot, as though some sort of bruise was forming. No dent either. It was still sensitive to the touch, but manageable, and not as bad as it would have been with normal ribs. I stayed on the ground for another few moments, letting the pain mostly dull before attempting to get up. Using the table as leverage, I carefully returned to a standing position. “Lets not do that again.” I uttered as a mental reminder, brushing off the lingering dust as best I could without irritating my injuries.  ‘At least I didn’t injure my neck there, that could have gone a lot worse… At least the price I had to pay for my stupidity wasn't all that high.’  My thoughts were interrupted when my stomach let out a low growl. “Right, I’m still hungry. I guess some of that nasty bacon soup will have to do.” There were plenty of those cans around here, as searching for the stuff always yielded results quite quickly. Passing through the only exit to the room, the quiet stare of the Lost One caught my attention, as well as the unopened cans of soup lining the shelves to my right. The inky being tilted its head curiously, earlier cries seeming to have ceased. I tilted my head in return, matching its curiosity and confusion. “Er, uh… hello…?” I tried to start a conversation with the creature. Some of them couldn’t speak, others could. I hoped this one was one of the latter. The Lost One’s glowing orange eyes seemed to widen in surprise.

“You can speak…?” Its voice was garbled and had a watery undertone, but I was still able to tell it was a male by a long shot. “Um, yeah. No duh.” I attempted at a joke. His expression didn’t seem to change and my grin faltered, but it was hard to tell with all of the ink on his face. “Is it really that uncommon to be able to speak…?” The Lost One shook his head. “No, no. It’s actually quite common. I was just surprised you could learn to speak so quickly, with the-” He tried explaining his reaction, motioning to his mouth before suddenly pausing. He seemed to be staring intently at my face before resuming talking. “- you don’t have a speaker?” I was confused by his question, taking a second to realize what he meant. “Oh! Well, not anymore. I was confused by that too.” I chuckled awkwardly, shrugging. “When I woke up in this body, I had a relatively normal jaw.” To prove my answer, I opened my mouth just enough so the Lost One could see my teeth split apart. One of his eyes widened, likely raising an eyebrow. “I see. Interesting…” He paused once again, looking me over. “How long have you been here for?” “That depends… how long have I been in this body or how long have I been in the studio altogether?” “Since you’ve had your most recent body.” “Time is wonky down here but I’d say roughly five to eight hours since I first awoke.” I finally answered. The inky being took in the information, while I took his silence as another chance to ask a question. “Do you have a name?” He returned his gaze to me, nodding. “The name’s Daniel, one of the lucky few who still remember their original. Might I ask you the same?” I nodded. “I guess I’m in the same group as you. Please, call me Amber.”

[illidariyoungblood]

The soup at the inn was... not great. Even with tainted senses, she could tell. Whoever cooked it was lacking in skill and taste. But, it was noodles and dumplings that she didn't have to make or share with anyone else. A little taste of home without the effort. All she had to deal with was the ugly looks and curious stares from those around her. Ah, but she could tune those out and focus on her sad soup.

Off to her side came the sound of someone setting dishes on the bar. 'That's an odd place for the bus bin,' she thought but paid it no further mind.

"Once again, you don't have to bring me your dishes, ma'am. It's included in the price." The bartender sounded exhausted. Someone laughed, and the sound of it almost shot noodles out of Adarlassa's nose. She had to slap a hand over her face and swallow hard to keep that from happening.

"Once again, I am just being a good guest! Now hand me a rag, I will wipe the table."

'Oh no, oh no, please, Elune, don't let it be...' Adarlassa focused her Sight on the figure. Sure enough, it was her worst nightmare and also her wildest dreams. A short, stout little panderan woman, black spots littered with graying fur but her hair dyed bright colors to hide the same hairs in her mane.

She let out a small whine that seemed to go unnoticed as the woman argued over being allowed to clean up her own mess at an inn. Quickly, Adarlassa gulped down the rest of the soup and shoved the rest of the dumplings in her mouth. She choked once but fixed it easily with her tea. The sound of her coughing caught the ear of the panderan, who turned to look at her.

"Slow down! Chew and enjoy your food! Someone worked hard on it!" She said, wiggling a finger at her. The bartender huffed.

"Yiuling, stop lecturing my other customers, I'm begging you."

"I am not lecturing! I am only-"

Adarlassa tuned them out and dug in her pockets for a handful of gold, easy more than the soup was worth but she wasn't going to stand around and wait for change. They could keep it. She had to get away, before either she cried or Yiuling realized who she was scolding.

Stepping out of the inn might have been a mistake. Almost as soon as she had, the old familiar name reached her ears and she picked up the aura of a handful of male panderan on the balcony overlooking the street.

"Look at that, isn't that-... Ada? Ada! Is that you?"

'Shit shit shit shit damn no, not like this!' She snarled and quickly summoned her serpent from his hiding place around the corner.

"Look, it's Luu! That has to be her! Ada!"

She mounted and kicked the three-legged creature into the air to make a fast getaway.

Two sharp notes and two low ones sounded in a whistle, and Luu rumbled pleasantly and looped around on himself to head towards the whistle, even with his rider shoving her claws into his scales to try and control him. But no, the dumb animal was far too food driven, and never forgot the noise Shuukin would use to call the serpents for dinner.

"No, no, no! You idiot-!" She tried to climb out of the saddle and flee, but Luu's one front leg touched down on the rail of the balcony and great big furry arms grabbed her in a soul squeezing, bone crushing hug.

"Ada!" Shuukin bellowed in delight, twirling her around and coaxing the meal back up into her throat for a second. No sooner had he let her go than the other two jumped on her, showering her in hugs and pats from their big paws. "Ada, it is good to see you!"

Well. No point in anything now, she supposed, and sighed in defeat before smiling and returning the hugs of her brothers.

"Hi, Baba. Hi, Mokka, hi Tokka. What are you doing in Dalaran?"

"Vacationing! Mama wants to see the world! Why did you run? Did you not hear us calling?"

She bowed her head and shrugged.

"I... was not and still am not ready for you to see me like this. I'm... kind of an ugly monster." She said, frowning.

"That is nothing new! You were ugly last time we saw you, too!" Mokka laughed, and she smiled and jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. Their father huffed and took her cheeks in his big paws.

"That's untrue! She's beautiful! Even still, she is as beautiful as the day she left." With one paw, he took the sedge hat off her head and placed a tiny nuzzle to her hair before turning his attention to the hat. It was in good condition, but still showed signs of wear from battle. He sat down to work on it.

"Yeah," Tokka said, reaching over to lay a paw upside Mokka's head. "She's prettier than your ugly mug!"  As the two boys bickered, with each other, Shuukin reached over with a big paw and pulled Adarlassa to his side and sat her on his knee. It was a little awkward. She was bigger than the last time that happened, and she had to balance to fit. But, it was comforting and relaxing in a way that soothed her felflame soul.  “You put holes in the straw, on purpose?” He asked, still fidgeting with the hat. He set it upon her head for a moment and made a noise of realization.  “Yes, Baba. I, uh, I sprouted-” “Little horns! Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more unusual.” They shared a small chuckle and he returned to working. Her brothers crowded her soon after to pull her up and look her over, from claws to fangs to the lack of eyes, to the wings tucked under her cape as they healed from a pulled muscle. They seemed thrilled and excited, not at all repulsed and frightened like she had expected. And Shuukin just... didn’t seem to mind. Just as usual, nothing seemed to faze him.  Yiuling’s aura waddled its way up the stairs to the tiny bedroom they shared and reflexively, Adarlassa pulled her two brothers to form a wall. It only lasted a second before their mother shoved them aside.  “No, I heard her! She is here!” She shouted loudly in her native tongue, and instantly threw herself at the elf to hug her tight. Adarlassa stood shocked for only a second before she returned the hug, burying her face in the soft old fur on Yiuling’s shoulder. One of the two began to shake and sniffle. Adarlassa swore it wasn’t her, but two gentle paws grabbed her face and rubbed at her cheek bones. “No! No, no, no, no crying! This is happy!”  Adarlassa could only nod and kneel before hugging her adoptive mother again. “I’ve missed you, Mama. I’ve missed you and Baba and the boys so much. I’m so sorry I’m like this.” “No! Don’t be sorry! You’re wonderful! You’re my daughter! You’re my wonderful daughter!” Her short snout buried between Adarlassa’s shortened horns and planted a tiny kiss on her scalp. “You are a little shocking though, I will not lie. I didn’t recognize you at first.”  Shuukin waved the hat from his chair, a piece of straw held in his teeth. He spoke around it. “You did not even recognize the sedge, woman!” “I did recognize it, Baba, I’d recognize your handiwork anywhere. I just thought she’d given it away to a friend. She is generous and sweet like that.” “No, Mama, she would not! We made this hat together!” He scoffed. Adarlassa grinned and nodded.  “Yes, it does mean a lot to me. I wouldn’t get rid of it for anyone. They’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead claws if they want it.” Not that she could think of a single person who would want it. Even standard issue Illidari gear was better at protecting than the sedge. It held more sentimental value than anything. “Where are you staying these days?” Shuukin asked as he finished up the hat and placed it gently on her head. She huffed and adjusted it to fit around her ears and horns. “And you haven’t been eating, have you? You know Mama worries about that.” “I have been eating! Just... I burn more than I eat sometimes.” Maybe more than just ‘sometimes’ though. “But I’m staying on the Fel Hammer. It’s kind of our base of operations. It’s just outside of town. Kind of. The portal is, I mean.” “Oh! I would like to see it!” Yiuling said, grinning.  “It’s a base of operations, Mama, I don’t think she can take you.” Mokka protested and shook his head.  “... I mean, I could take you to the Fel Hammer. You can see it, if you’d like. I can’t really give you a tour, though. That might be too far.” Adarlassa shrugged. Surely she could get just one Panderan to the bat roost.  “Then let’s do that!” Yiuling nodded, paws on her hips and maw split in a toothy grin. “Mama, don’t get her in trouble!” Shuukin rumbled, shaking a paw. “Stay here insetad! We’re on vacation! You’re already causing enough trouble here, don’t raise more for her!” “It’ll be fine, Baba,” Adarlassa grinned. “A short sight seeing visit, and then we’ll come back!” “Yes, show me the sights, Ada. I am on vacation, after all!”