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anmylica · 1 year

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The Fields of Asphodel

Chapter Nine- Cue Desperate Measures

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Here’s the thing: Neal knew not to trust his grandfather. He had been a victim of Pan’s lies and manipulations before this, and he had fallen for them hook, line, and sinker far too many times already (though he hadn’t always known that Pan was his grandfather). He knew that doing what Pan suggested was absolutely going to put him in a position that would somehow be simultaneously the absolute worst thing that could happen for him and the absolute best thing that could happen for Pan. He knew that following Pan’s directions about going to the well was going to result in a disaster of truly epic proportions. It would even probably be on the same level of fuck-up that his abandoning Emma to serve his prison sentence had been.

But dammit all to hell if he wasn’t going to do it anyway.

All Neal could think about since that visit from his grandfather was the letter he had written to Henry after an evening spent trying to drink his feelings of inadequacy and despair away (it didn’t work, but the action made him feel a little better that at least he was going through the motions). He regretted his actions that had torn him away from the son he didn’t know he had fathered for eleven years. He regretted even more that he had fallen for Zelena’s trap and sacrificed his life to resurrect his father. Had he listened to Belle that there might be another way, he wouldn’t be stuck here now in an eerily similar situation to how his own upbringing had been, only with him as the father this time.

He had (badly) counseled another grieving woman, his eyes going to the desk drawer that held the unfinished letter to Henry, when he decided that enough was enough. He closed the office, canceled the rest of his appointments, and pulled his desk apart to find the letter and reread it once more. The office was littered with debris he had scattered from his desk, but Neal couldn’t bring himself to care.

It was several pages long, and written in Neal’s untidy scrawl. It contained all of the apologies he felt he owed Henry and the dreams for Henry’s life that he never got to say. He felt awful that the only legacy he could give Henry now was a letter he’d never get to send and a bevy of broken dreams and empty promises. Henry was his unfinished business that he wouldn’t ever get to resolve.

Only now, if he listened to Peter Pan, he’d have a way to communicate his final words to his son. The thought of Henry not knowing his father had been his biggest supporter was too much for Neal to bear. Grabbing a pen, he scribbled one last thought onto the last page and then rolled it up and stuffed the missive into a plastic soda bottle and screwed the cap on tight. It wasn’t glass with a cork, but it would have to do.

He shrugged on his coat hastily and made his way out the door, moving as fast as he could to the well. He left the rest of his belongings behind, intent upon coming back as soon as he could. He needed to do this, to complete his unfinished business so he could move on. Neal left the town behind as he headed for the trail he knew existed that would take him by the well.

After around thirty minutes of hiking through the decaying forest, getting his feet caught in exposed roots and kicking and stumbling over rocks in his haste, he finally came to the wishing well. He stopped short, surveying the woods around him. In spite of the supposed importance this well had in being a connection to the Land of the Living, Neal was surprised that there seemed to be no barriers or guardians. He took a step forward, proceeding cautiously. He paused, and when nothing happened, moved closer. He continued this cautious approach until he was right next to the well.

Neal leaned over and peered down into its depths. It didn’t look any different from how it appeared in Storybrooke. The water was a bit murky and red tinted, but so was everything down here. It came from Hades’ magic causing a fake daylight that wasn’t really daylight. The brimstone and rock that housed the Underworld cut off the natural light source and influenced the appearance of the available light for the world to present the illusion of home for the denizens of the Underworld.

He took the plastic bottle and considered it for a moment. He also took out Pan’s scroll and held it in his other hand. He didn’t know what his grandfather wanted to give Henry, but he was certain it couldn’t be anything good. Neal slipped the scroll back into his pocket and held the bottle over the wishing well and let go of it. He watched as the bottle plummeted.

He had done it. Neal had actually managed to communicate one last time with his son. He could finally move on in peace. He turned to go back to the town, his mind on going to the Place of Judgement to finally have his soul weighed against his unfinished business when a loud screech echoed closely behind him. He turned around and looked at the sky. His eyes widened at the sight of a solid black hell-dragon in the sky, its wings flapping as it hovered directly above him.

Years of instinct told Neal to turn and run, so that’s what he did. He ran as fast as he could through the undergrowth of the forest, barely feeling the stinging whip of the tree branches against his exposed skin. He ran just as fast as he had that day in New York when Emma had chased him down, only coming to a stop when she tackled him in the street. He didn’t question the instinct that had overtaken him at the sight. He just knew whatever the beast was doing, it was looking for him.

He dodged tree roots, tripping and stumbling over them and protruding rocks, barely managing not to fall. Though he knew not to look back, Neal glanced over his shoulder at the hell-dragon, only to see it lock onto its target and flap its wings back into a dive.

“Oh shit,” Neal muttered, realizing that the target was indeed him. He stopped and ducked just in time as the beast swooped down and tried to grab him. The beast missed him by inches, though Neal didn’t escape unscathed. He grimaced at the claw marks left in his jacket, but a glance at the dragon confirmed that it was already turning around to make a second grab, and Neal knew he didn’t have time to dally around.

He took off running again, desperately sprinting as fast as he could. He huffed and puffed (it had been a very long time since he had had to run like this; he had nearly forgotten what it felt like and resolved to start running every day after work). He tried valiantly to keep up his pace, but every glance backwards told him the dragon was gaining on him, getting closer and closer.

Neal poured everything he had into his sprint. He couldn’t put any more effort into his breakneck pace, and he could feel his body slowing from the exertion. His lungs burned, though they didn’t need oxygen, his legs ached from the strain, and his heart was pounding though it did not beat. He knew that everything he was feeling was an illusion, but he couldn’t break through it. Desperate, he looked behind him one last time.

His eyes off the path in front of him, he failed to see the tree root just in front of him. His foot clipped it mid stride and he fell hard. He rolled through the leaves from the momentum, finally coming to a stop on his side facing away from the dragon. He tried to scramble to his feet, scattering leaves and dirt all around him, but he was too late. The dragon wrapped its claws around him and lifted Neal into the air. He screamed at the sudden change in altitude and at the claws biting into his back and arms and chest. He kicked his legs futilely, but the beast did not let him go.

Neal watched as the Underworld version of Storybrooke grew smaller and smaller in the distance as the hell-dragon flew higher and higher. The claws gripped him tighter, and he felt blood starting to soak through his clothes. He began to feel lightheaded at the sensation; he was never one for donating blood because it made him so queasy. He wondered if his message had managed to even reach his son.

Now he had a sinking feeling that he would never get to know.

The claws sank in deeper, and Neal finally passed out.

Henry had been the fifth child of a king of a small kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and he had married out of convenience and duty to the throne. He had never been destined for much in terms of leadership or positions of power, and he, as the fifth-born son, had been just fine with that as long as he had been alive. His bride, a peasant named Cora who had claimed the ability to spin straw into gold, had been the one who had thirsted for power. Most of the time, they got along so long as he left her to her devices and scheming and plotting. In truth, being married to Cora hadn’t been easy, for the gods only knew what kind of problems they had experienced during their long marriage, but she had borne him the absolute apple of his eye in his daughter Regina, and if he had let her walk all over him during that time, it had all been worth it to see Regina grow up.

But as he took in the handful of toddlers throwing things and screaming and crying all around him, he had to wonder if his lack of ambition as the fifth-born son was the reason he was in this position today.

A wooden block hit his head and bounced off. Henry, for all the patience he had developed during his life (Cora really had a way of trying it), felt his temper slowly starting to fray. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to the toddler who had thrown the block and crouching down to the boy’s level.

“We don’t throw blocks,” Henry told the boy, trying to affect a gentle yet firm tone of voice. The boy blinked up at him for a moment and then started to let out a wail worthy of the ogres. Henry closed his eyes in exasperation before trying to calm him, but he knew it was no use. The toddlers here had died before they could complete any true development of the mind; they were essentially frozen as they were in life.

He was in the middle of staving off this latest temper tantrum (which seemed to be setting off some of the other toddlers in the preschool where Henry had been sentenced to work as his penance for being unsuccessful in reining in his wife or his daughter) when someone loudly cleared their throat from the door.

Henry looked up and stared. Cora was standing in the doorway, dressed in the rags that he knew she had worn in her life as the miller’s daughter before their marriage. She grasped her hands and waited. He straightened and slowly walked to his estranged wife.

“Cora, what are you doing here?” he asked once he was close enough that he wouldn’t need to shout.

“I’m here about our daughter,” she replied. “It seems she’s in the Underworld.”

His eyes widened. “Regina’s here?”

“Yes, though I’ve heard she’s not dead. Hades is looking for her, and he has something terrible planned for her once he finds her.”

Henry furrowed his brow in confusion. “How do you know this?”

Cora sighed. “I overheard him when I was delivering flour from the mills. We need to find her and make sure she leaves before he can find her.”

Henry nodded in agreement. “How are we going to do that?”

Cora smiled. “By doing this.” She waved her hand and he was transported away from the preschool to the location she wanted him at, leaving the toddlers with the other caretakers who were there in the facility. “Now she’ll have no choice but to do as I want. I won’t let her become another one of Hades’ victims.”

The first thing Neal became aware of was an ache in his chest that was somewhat similar to how it had felt after Tamara shot him. The second thing he became aware of was his head pounding like a drum. The third thing was someone whistling a jaunty, yet annoying, tune.

He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in some sort of cell, with stone walls that rose several stories all around him and no door. Standing in the doorway was a man in a suit with red hair. Though Neal had only seen him once when he had been sentenced to his job, Neal recognized him instantly. This was Hades.

Neal pushed himself up gingerly into a sitting position. His chest ached from where the hell-dragon’s talons had pierced it, and he felt as if he couldn’t take a full breath, but other than that, he had to admit, he had been in worse scrapes than this. Hades watched him struggle with a gleeful grin.

“Welcome to Solitary!” Hades announced. “This is the special place where people who defy me get to spend their time.”

“I haven’t tried to defy you,” Neal protested.

“Oh, haven’t you? I found this in your pocket.” Hades pulled out the scroll that Pan had given him earlier. “Does this look familiar?”

Neal shrugged. “My grandfather gave it to me. He wanted me to pass it on to my kid, but I didn’t do it.”

Hades nodded, chewing his lips as he listened to Neal’s explanation. “You mean you decided to keep it.”

Neal’s face screwed up in disbelief. “Keep it? He tried to kill my son; why would I want to keep anything he would give me or Henry?”

Hades took out the scroll and unraveled it, glancing at the words written on it momentarily. “Maybe because it has instructions on how to leave the Underworld?”

Neal blinked at Hades’ insinuation.

“The only reason you would have to keep this would be to keep the information for yourself. Of course, this would only work if you could return to life, but I imagine this information would be very useful for all your friends back in Storybrooke.”

Neal shook his head slightly. “Well... wait, why would this information be useful to them?”

Hades smiled and his hair erupted into flames. “Take a look for yourself.” He held out a hand as if to show off a brand new car and stepped out of the way of Neal’s view.

Neal looked across to the cell directly across from his. He gasped in horror when he realized who he was looking at. Killian Jones lay there on the cold, hard stone, unconscious and bloody. Neal didn’t think he’d ever seen the pirate that badly injured before in all his time of knowing Captain Hook. Not even in all the years of being trapped in Neverland had he seen the man that bloody, and he had seen the damage the Lost Boys had done to Hook. Neal stared in horror at the man who could have been a father figure to him had life been any different or if fate hadn’t had other ideas. A slow trickle of blood ran down Killian’s face from a wound that looked freshly opened. Neal watched as the blood freely dripped off the pirate’s nose into a small pool on the stone floor. Drip. Drip. Drip.

“What the hell?” Neal whispered once he got his voice back. “What’d you do to him? Why is he even down here?”

“Let’s just say he bit off more than he could chew when it came to being a hero. And now he refuses to accept his fate.”

Neal looked at Hades. The god wore a careful expression on his face, but Neal wondered how devil-may-care Hades actually was feeling at the moment. “Accept his fate?” Neal echoed.

“Indeed. He has these silly notions of being rescued in his head.” Hades chuckled. “I don’t know where he gets them.”

Neal did some fast thinking. If Hook was here, then something had to have happened with Emma. Neal knew Hook wouldn’t willingly leave her side if he had no other choice. But did that mean…?

“Well it’s a good thing you got that scroll, then. It could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands,” Neal said.

Hades smirked. “I thank you. But you’re still going to spend some time down here to think about what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done? I haven’t done anything! You have the scroll there in your hands!” Neal protested, pointing to the scroll Hades held.

Hades tilted his head and considered Neal for a moment. “No, I see it still there in your eyes. You’re in possession of contraband.”

“What contraband?”

Hades took a measured step forward until he could stare into Neal’s eyes. He leaned in close and whispered into Neal’s ear, “Hope.”

A groan could be heard from behind them. Neal looked to see Killian starting to stir, his face a permanent grimace of pain. Hades straightened, a nasty grin on his face.

“Ah! Our friend is awakening! You’ll excuse me for a moment? I need to see if I can persuade our esteemed captain into seeing things my way once more.” Hades left Neal with one unhinged smile before he poofed himself and Hook away.

Neal let out the breath he had been holding. What had happened back in Storybrooke?!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Peter Pan may have been here in the Underworld longer than Rumple, but Rumple had more tools at his disposal than Peter Pan. After Peter Pan had taunted him about knowing Bae’s whereabouts and offering that ridiculous deal, Rumple had used a couple of those tools. He had found out through some simple questions of the Underworld’s denizens (meaning he had threatened some people’s still-living loved ones if they didn’t tell him the information he sought) that Neal Cassidy’s information should have been recorded at City Hall. He had gone there and, using his powers of persuasion (ergo, more threats), managed to find out that Neal’s job had been to counsel newly deceased mothers who had left behind children in the Land of the Living. He also obtained a dwelling address and the address of the office Neal had been counseling inside.

Rumple decided that the first place he would look was the dwelling. After poofing to the address and breaking inside using magic, he saw that the dwelling was nothing more than a place to sleep (or whatever caricature of sleep the dead actually did). There was nothing there. Undeterred, Rumple pooped over to the office in which Bae had to counsel newcomers who had been sentenced to paying their penance. Upon his arrival, Rumple knew that he had finally hit the jackpot. It really was too bad that he hadn’t had more time before having to take his father’s deal, but it wouldn’t matter anyway once all had unfolded.

The office was the exact same as it was in Storybrooke under Dr. Hopper’s care. The same walls, same furniture, same books and papers… Nothing had changed, though Rumple could see signs of another occupant. A used coffee mug sat on the desk, a half-empty water bottle beside it. Pens were scattered on the sofa table, and a notepad with notes scrawled across it sat beside the pens.

Rumple looked at the notepad, recognizing Bae’s messy handwriting that had been formed when Runple tried so hard to teach him to write his letters. He smiled a sad smile at seeing the chicken scratch one more time.

A sport coat that looked to be Bae’s taste hung on the coat rack by the door, and a drawing of a boy hung on the wall beside it. Rumple wondered for a moment why the drawing had caught his eye, but once he moved closer he understood. The picture was one of Henry. Bae must have drawn it shortly after arriving here after his death. A pang of heartbreak struck his chest. Bae would never get to see his son grow up and grow older. He wished for what had to be the millionth time that Bae had left him alone and hadn't tried to resurrect him. Then maybe Bae could have still had a chance to get back to Henry. To be the father that Rumple had never gotten to be for Bae.

But alas. Some things were never meant to be.

Rumple moved away from the drawing and all that it represented. He shuffled through some papers, but none of them held any news on the current whereabouts of his son. He ripped open the drawers of the desk, slamming them shut when they held nothing but staples, paper clips, and other various office junk. He ripped open the last draw, and spying only papers, moved to slam it shut when he looked a little closer.

Catching the drawer before it could shut, he slid it back open and reached inside. He took out a crumpled ball of paper. Using both hands to smooth it out, he scanned the words written on its surface.

It appeared to be a letter of apology to Henry, but parts of it were scratched out. Rumple read the parts that he could, but since the letter was scratched out so much, he really could only scan it. Turning it over, he read the last lines, which hadn’t been scratched out.

I’m sorry for all the pain I caused your mother and you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I guess it wasn’t. You were the one who suffered for it. Emma and I have made our peace, hopefully, but I never did get to make it with you. I hope you realize that, though I spent only a brief time with you, I love you with all my heart.

I’m sorry I can’t be there to tell you in person. You and your forgiveness is my unfinished business, and Henry, I wish I could be there to earn it. I wish I could get to see you grow. I wish I could be there for all the milestones, but all I can do is write this letter and hope that it one day gets to you. I was told of a way that I might be able to send it, so I’m going to rewrite this into a cleaner version and then try to send it to you. I have no idea if the well will do what it’s purported to, but I have to try.

I’m glad I was able to get to Neverland to help save you. Of all the mistakes I’ve made where you and your mother are concerned, I got that one right. Peter Pan is down here too. He’s the same as ever, though he did tell me to tell you he had “no hard feelings.” I’m glad he can’t ever get to you again. That is at least one thing that helps me to rest easy down here. But hey, I’ll see you again. This isn’t over, and I hope you know that wherever you are, I’m still there. I love you.

The letter appeared as if it had been part of at least another page, but Rumple couldn’t find the other pages. The part about Peter Pan was what caught his eye, he realized, perusing the words again. Rumple wasn’t surprised at all to find evidence that his father had lied about seeing Baelfire down here; in fact, he had expected it. There was something about the part of the well that bothered him, though he couldn’t put his finger on what.

Casting one last look around the office and taking in how scattered and ransacked the place looked, there was one thing that Rumple was sure of. Bae was in danger.

Looking at the door with darkness in his eyes, he knew the best way to get to his son was to persuade Emma Swan to take the case. And he knew just the way to get her invested. With a wave of his hand, he disappeared in a cloud of red smoke and reappeared outside the door of Emma Swan’s house.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Did you know him?”

Neal jumped at the spoken words; he hadn’t expected anyone else to be around. He looked out the doorway and down the hall. A woman with light brown hair and dressed in rags was in the cell next to his.

“Uh, yeah,” Neal responded shortly. “Who- who are you?”

“My name is Megara, but my friends call me Meg,” the woman responded.

“At least they would if you had any friends?” Neal quipped.

Megara gave him a puzzled look. “What?”

Neal chuckled. “Nevermind, sorry. Bit of a bad joke. So you’re Meg, huh?”

Meg blinked. “Yes. Did you know him? Killian Jones?”

Neal nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

Meg tilted her head in consideration. “How so?”

Neal sighed. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say he and I were interested in the same woman at one point.”

Meg nodded. “Who was she?”

Neal chuckled. “You sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

Meg smiled. “Sorry. I’m not used to having many people around. Not very many people get put into Solitary these days. You must have done something real bad for Hades to put you in here.”

Neal grimaced. “You could say that, yeah.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “Apparently I tried to sneak instructions to my son and his family for escaping from the Underworld.”

Meg’s eyes bugged. “You did?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I had no idea the scroll had that written on it, though.”

Meg nodded in understanding. “I’ve been here since I helped my True Love defeat Hades. It’s been ages, and he’s still punishing me.”

“Didn’t Hades want to overthrow Olympus? Is that how you defeated him?” Neal looked down at his shoes before looking back up at her. She was staring at him in disbelief.

“How do you know that?” Meg asked, amazement coloring her voice.

“Oh, I saw the movie,” Neal shrugged.

“What’s a movie?” Meg looked even more mystified than she had before. Neal was suddenly reminded very strongly of his conversation with Mulan when the two of them were traversing the distance from Phillip and Aurora’s kingdom to his father’s castle in the Enchanted Forest.

Neal stammered. “It’s a kind of story you watch that’s acted out, but that’s not really important right now.” Meg just looked even more confused. “So Hades has had you down here in Solitary this whole time?”

Meg nodded, seemingly letting go of what a movie was but still had a confused look on her face. “I owed him service for helping me, and when I defied him, he decided that this was my penance. It’s been centuries.”

They both fell silent for a while, both pondering the information the other had revealed.

“I spent some time in Neverland,” Neal said, finally getting tired of the silence. “Time stops in that realm. If it had continued, I’d be a couple of centuries old or so. I finally escaped that realm, and I ended up in the Land without Magic. I met this woman, Emma Swan, and we fell in love for a brief amount of time. I left her pregnant with our son, and I eventually came back into their lives when the boy was a bit older. I died after that, but I never got to make amends for leaving him. That’s why I’m stuck here in the Underworld.”

Meg’s jaw dropped as he continued his story. “Emma Swan? You know Emma Swan?”

Neal’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why? Do you know her?”

Meg nodded profusely. “Killian Jones sent me to find her! We figured out that I could leave my cell for brief periods of time, and he asked me to find her so I could help her find him!”

“He- he asked you to find her? What do you mean? She’s back in the Land of the Living!”

Meg shook her head, smiling. “No! No she’s not! She’s here in the Underworld! She’s with a big group of people looking to rescue Killian Jones!”

Neal stared at her in disbelief. “Emma came to the Underworld to get back Hook?” How could that possibly be? No one could enter the Underworld unless they were dead. How had he not known that she was trying to get down here?

“Yes, I saw her not too long ago!”

Neal continued staring at Meg, his brow furrowing as he thought about the implications. If it were true that Emma was down here, not dead, then that had to mean the Underworld operated on magic, a special kind of magic that couldn’t be breached except by a select brand. So how could she breach it?

“My father,” Neal said out loud. Meg blinked at the change in conversation but didn’t say anything. “He has to be the key. That means Emma was able to defeat the Wicked Witch! And Hook must have died during that conflict, and that’s why she’s down here!” He looked up at Meg, a smile beginning to bloom on his face. “Can you leave here and find her again?”

“I can try,” Meg replied. “I know where she was the last time I saw her; I can go there again and see if I can meetup with her briefly.”

“Then do it,” Neal breathe, “I can try to help her find Hook and get them out of here. Get her back to my son.”

Meg nodded. “I’ll be back soon.” She got up and crept out of the holding cell and down the corridor.

Neal watched her go and hoped that she would find Emma soon so he could finally make peace with his son.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Now that we’ve got that settled, what did you and Robin see, Regina?” Emma asked after Robin had sufficiently looked his fill of his son in the mirror and moved away, cutting the image off.

“We saw a sort of vision of my father and mother being tortured. I don’t know where or why, but I’m willing to bet there is some sort of truth to it.”

“Well add that to the list of things we need to investigate” Emma rolled her eyes.

“We can handle my parents,” Regina replied. “I'll go see if I can figure out where they are and track them down. If I hear any word on Hook, I’ll let you know. Take a mirror with you so I can get in touch. I’m willing to bet our phones won’t work down here.”

Emma nodded, but before she could think of what to do next to find Hook, the front door opened, seemingly by itself. Everyone’s attention turned to it, wondering with varying degrees of dread why the door had swung open.

After a moment, Runplestiltskin sauntered in. Emma let out the bread she had been holding and rolled her eyes. Rumple merely stood there in the threshold, taking in who was present, his only expression at seeing Milah there being a quirk of his eyebrow.

“And I expected the heroes to be out searching for the pirate, not aimlessly huddled inside a house,” Rumple snidely stated as he finally entered Emma’s house as if he owned the place.

Milah frowned. “What are you doing here?” She demanded.

Rumple looked at her and blinked, as if surprised that she would actually talk to him. But that perplexed him less than her presence here did. How exactly did his ex-wife end up with the heroes? And with Emma Swan, no less? Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

He looked back at Emma, though he was addressing the whole group, and said, “I’ve come to lend my services.”

“And be locked into a deal with you? No thanks,” Emma retorted.

“From where I’m standing you don’t have much choice,” Rumple replied.

“We’re doing just fine without your help,” David chimed in.

“Oh, really? Tell me, have you found the pirate yet?” Rumple gazed around the room at everyone, but no one offered an answer in the affirmative, much as he had expected. “Then I think you could use the help.”

“Why do you want to help us all of a sudden? You took off the moment we got here.” Emma crossed her arms, a suspicious look in her eyes as she beheld the man who had betrayed them all.

“Because I would like to get back to Storybrooke and my wife,” he sneered. Milah started at his use of the word wife. He turned to her and smirked. “Not you, Dearie.”

Milah scowled. “I never assumed it was,” she sneered.

Rumple turned back to Emma. “This is what I’ll offer. You help me find someone, and I’ll help you find the pirate.”

“What someone?” Emma asked.

“My son.”

“Bae?” Whispered Milah in shock, but everyone ignored her.

Emma blinked. “Didn’t we already do this?” She asked rhetorically, holding out her arms in exasperation. “I swear, I feel like I already did this with you once. And look where it got me.”

“It would have gotten you a dead pirate hadn’t you helped me then, dearie,” replied Rumple pointedly.

“It looks like I got a dead pirate anyway because of you,” Emma hurled back.

“I said I was sorry,” Rumple waved his hands as if to dismiss his latest betrayal of them all.

“You didn’t actually,” David interjected.

Rumple cast him a withering look. “Then consider it said.” He turned back to Emma and continued, “Bae is in danger. It is mutually beneficial for us to team up to find both of them.”

“Whatever you say, Gold. Neal’s not here.” Emma rolled her eyes and gave him a flat look.

Rumple stared. “Yes he is.”

Emma shook her head. “No, he’s not. He came to me in a vision of some sort. When we were on the boat ride here,” Emma clarified. “He told me he moved on and that I shouldn’t try to do this.”

“He said that?” Snow asked in disbelief.

Emma nodded and replied, “He was very adamant that I was making a huge mistake and that he wouldn’t support it.”

“That doesn’t sound like Neal,” Snow stated.

Emma gave her a skeptical look, but before she could correct her mother, Rumple interrupted. “No, I have confirmation that he is down here. That vision must not be correct.”

Emma sighed. “What confirmation?”

Rumple paused a moment, contemplating how much he should reveal. “I was paid a visit by a common enemy earlier. He told me that Bae was down here being punished for something.”

“Common enemy?” David echoed.

Henry frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re talking about Peter Pan.”

Rumple nodded, and the group minus Robin and Milah groaned.

“Why is he here?” Regina grumbled.

“That’s irrelevant,” Rumple dismissed. The point is, if you help me find my son, then I will stop at nothing until I rescue the pirate. Do we have a deal, Miss Swan?”

Emma scratched her head and ran her fingers through her hair as she contemplated what this new deal would mean for her. “I mean, how much danger is Neal really in down here? I’m sure he’ll turn up at Granny’s or something. Why do we need to look for him?”

“Have you forgotten that he’s the son of the Dark One?” Rumble sneered. “A good portion of the dead people here in the Underworld, I’ve killed. There’s at least one of those in this room currently.”

Milah clenched her fist and her jaw at his words, eyes flashing as she tensed up even more than she had been if that were possible.

“He’s in danger by proxy down here. I’d rather know he was safe.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. Rumple knew she could sense the half-truth in his voice, could hear the Dark One’s twist on the words to reveal just enough without really giving anything away at all. He also knew that Emma was just past the point of being desperate enough to disregard the Dark One lies and tricks and accept his help.

He had his confirmation a moment later when she nodded her head once, terse in her movements, and said, “Fine. I’ll help you.”

Rumple nodded. “We should get a move on. I’ve located Bae’s office where he works down here. We’ll start there.” He turned to leave, but a sound of protest stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait, I thought we were going after Killian, first!” Emma frowned in confusion.

“No, the pirate is not in immediate danger. My son is. We find him, then the pirate.”

Emma nodded, not happy about the circumstances but not seeing a way to convince Rumple otherwise. “Fine, let’s go.”

“Wait!” Henry exclaimed. “I’m coming with you!”

Emma and Rumple both shouted at the same time, “No!”

Emma continued, “It’s too dangerous.”

Henry crossed his arms, a mutinuous expression gracing his face. “If it’s about my dad, I’m coming too. I didn’t get to see him before he died,” Henry added quickly upon seeing the looks on both Emma and Regina’s faces. “It’s only fair that I get to see him, too.”

Emma’s face looked as if her heart was breaking for her son. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Fine, you can come. But you’re sticking close to me, or I’m poofing you back to Regina. Do you understand?”

Henry nodded.

Milah chimed in. “I’m going with you as well. I want to see my son again, and an extra pair of eyes on this one,” she sent Rumple a withering gaze, “can’t hurt.”

“Uh, I don’t recall inviting you,” Rumple protested.

“Tough. I invited myself. I’m not abandoning Bae this time.”

Rumple sighed an aggravated sigh. “What could possibly go wrong with this?” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

The two glared at each other for a moment.

Emma sighed and put her arm around Henry’s shoulders. “Let’s go, then.” To Henry, she quipped under her breath, “Welcome to dinner with the in-laws.” Henry grinned and they started to exit the house, the Dark One and his former wife trailing behind them.

A loud clunk sounded from just in front of them, and they stopped short. Everyone looked for what made the sound, but Emma knew. She stared down at her feet before slowly bending over. She picked something metallic up from the floor, gingerly, before standing again. Rumple squinted, trying to figure out what she cradled in her hands. She took a deep breath and turned, fierce determination and endless heartbreak glinting in her eyes.

In her hands was a hook. Rumple recognized it as the same one Hook had used as the replacement for his hand, the same one that the pirate had stabbed him with all those years ago on the deck of the pirate’s ship. It was stained with dried blood, the blood so thick in spots it was caked on.

The rest of their companions gasped in horror, minds immediately jumping to what was likely the right conclusion. Milah looked confused, but one look at Emma’s face told her something bad had happened to Killian.

“We have to hurry,” Emma choked out, barely holding back tears. “Killian is in more danger than we thought.”

Emma stood there just long enough for Rumple to recognize the sheer panic in her eyes before she turned and practically ran out the door. He, Henry, and Milah followed after her, though at a slightly more sedate pace.

Unbeknownst to them, miles down below where they were, Hades was watching them in a mirror and smiling with a deranged sort of glee. The jar of hope standing in the corner of the throne room filled a little more from the Savior’s panic. Killian Jones watched the scene and the jar with a cold fury that he hadn’t felt in centuries, but somehow this was worse.

“It looks like we’ve finally figured out what makes the Savior panic, what causes the Savior pain. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” Hades said as he waved his hand, signaling to Pain and Panic that it was time for them to carry out their work. Killian watched them leave, twin looks of malevolent expectation on their faces, and he struggled against his chains.

“You won’t win,” Killian spat. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Hades laughed. “Oh, I’ve already won. It’s just a matter of putting the pieces where they go.” He turned and stabbed Killian’s shoulder with a hot poker, causing the pirate to cry out in pain. The jar of hope’s contents raised incrementally. Hades continued to torture the pirate, determined that Killian Jones would at least contribute his pain, even if he wouldn’t give up his hope.

#The Fields of Asphodel #once upon a time #captain swan #captain hook #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #anmylica writes #csff #season 5 fix it #whumptober 2022 #No 12 #What could go wrong?#mayday mayday

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beifongsss · 4 years

Text

firebending [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Requested?: Yes! By a wonderful anon: “your zuko fics are all so well-written! I have a request for a firebender reader who hates the fire nation and was never trained in the art of fighting. then she/they join the gaang and learns firebending with aang from zuko. it’s awkward between them at first but cue ~ romance ~”

Summary: If someone told you that you’d end up dating the Fire Nation prince one day, you would’ve laughed in their face. If only you knew how right they were.

wc. ~5.2k

.masterlist.

When you first joined the Gaang, everyone expected you and Katara to hate each other. After all, you were from the Fire Nation and everybody knew Katara was the biggest anti-Fire Nation enthusiast there ever was.

They were quickly proven wrong when you didn’t fight against Katara’s harsh remarks, instead agreeing with them and even adding more scathing words of your own to show your distaste towards the Fire Nation. Since joining them, you never wore anything related to the Fire Nation. Nothing that is, with the exception of an elaborate hairpiece that your mother had left you. The hairpiece never left your body, the sunstone in the middle of it shining from its place on your head.

Escaping Ba Sing Se (and therefore the Earth Kingdom) had simultaneously been the best and worst thing that had happened to you. You were glad that Aang was alive, obviously, but being back in Fire Nation clothing was making you anxious.

Ever since the battle in the catacombs, you had been avoiding everyone. You had revealed your firebending in a panic, shooting a strong blast of fire at the banished prince as he snuck up on Katara. He had been taken off guard just long enough for you to subdue him before he realized that you didn’t know what you were doing.

There had been no time for Katara to question you after that. You had all fled and met up with her father, Hakoda, before seizing a Fire Nation ship to use as a disguise. As soon as you stepped foot on the ship, you had scrambled to an empty room and locked yourself inside. You had ignored Katara’s pleas for you to open the door, never once moving from your spot unless it was to use the bathroom or to get the tray of food that you knew had been placed at your door.

No one had known you were a firebender, and the initial shock eventually wore off as everyone found themselves missing your presence. It wasn’t until Aang woke up that you finally emerged.

“(Y/N)?” Sokka asked hesitantly, knocking softly on your door.

“Go away!” was the muffled reply that came from your room.

“Nope. I think Aang wants to see you.”

Sokka waited for a few seconds before the door swung open, reveling you standing there. You were wearing your Earth Kingdom clothes, trying to delay the inevitable. You looked up at him, making his heart hurt when he noticed the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Is he really awake?” you asked, your voice small. Sokka nodded.

“Hurry up and get changed. He’s on the deck.”

You nodded softly before closing the door. You opened it again a few minutes later, now dressed in red. As much as Sokka hated to admit it, you looked good in red. The Fire Nation was your home, after all. You followed him up to the deck, your finger nimbly twisting part of your hair into a knot big enough for your hairpiece.

“(Y/N)!” Aang yelled when you came into view. He launched himself at you and you caught him with a small “oof”. You giggled softly as you rubbed his head, making his hair stick up in all directions.

“Aang!” you cried in reply. “You have hair!”

Aang made a funny face at your words before fixing his hair. “Yeah, I guess I was out longer than I thought.”

You leaned down and swept the boy up into another hug, pulling him close as you held tears back. “I’m so glad you’re okay Aang. I don’t know what we would’ve done if you-”

“Don’t worry! Look at me, I’m fine!” Aang said, trying to make you feel better. He led you over to where everyone else was, Katara looking up and smiling softly as you glanced at her. “They also told me about your firebending! How come you never told us?’

You reeled back in shock, looking around wildly as everyone heard Aang’s word. When there were no negative reactions, you relaxed slightly.

“Everyone already knows huh?” you asked drily, being met with nods from everyone on board. You sighed and tapped your foot before speaking. “Okay, yes I’m a firebender. The reason I never told you guys is because I never wanted to use it. I was young when I fled and I never got a chance to learn anything other than the basics.”

Aang nodded in understanding. “But you could’ve built your skills that time we met Jeong Jeong.”

“No. After my family...” you trailed off, thinking about why you never became a master bender. Aang gave you an encouraging look and you breathed in deeply. “I promised myself I wouldn’t firebend ever again. Not after that.”

Aang nodded in understanding as you fell silent, thinking about your past. The Fire Nation was the reason why you had been all alone. They had killed your family with the weapon you now hated: firebending.

The silence engulfed the entire ship, everyone lost in their own thoughts. There was a peaceful atmosphere as the ship drifted along, but of course it didn’t last long.

Soon enough, you found yourself chasing after Aang, eventually being forced to hide in the Fire Nation as the Day Of Black Sun loomed closer and closer.

The promise that you had made to yourself to never firebend again was still intact. You hadn’t let any bursts of fire out, not even when you had found yourself surrounded by Fire Nation troops on the Day of Black Sun. The eclipse was a blessing to you, the brief eight minutes just long enough to make you feel normal.

Of course, you soon found yourselves fleeing to the Western Air Temple, silently mourning the loss the rest of the invasion army. Once you all settled in, you kept wearing the red top you had acquired in the Fire Nation. You don’t know why; it just brought you some type of comfort. Aang had grinned when he noticed, wondering if all your adventures in the Fire Nation had lessened your hatred towards the nation.

It had.

But not by much. Wearing the color red weighed heavily on your soul and you spent many of your waking hours debating whether or not keeping the red clothes was the right choice. It frustrated you to no end, how a simply piece of cloth could jumble your thoughts so easily. The red reminded you of the pain and grief you had experienced when you had lost your family, but in a twisted way it also reminded you of them. It reminded you of the days back when you still had them, back when you still had a home and you were happy. Deep down, you knew that you were Fire Nation but that knowledge didn’t stop your inner turmoil. And over the next few days, it only got worse with the arrival of a certain someone.

“Hello, Zuko here.”

You tried to hold back your groan, you really did. But it was as though the universe wanted to test you and had decided to do so by sending the Fire Nation prince your way. Zuko’s soft smile had dropped at your reaction, the corners of his lips quirking downward.

“Hey, I heard you guys flying around down there, so, I just thought I'd wait for you here,” he continued. Appa walked up to the prince and sniffed him before proceeding to lick him. Zuko’s face twisted up in disgust. “I know you must be surprised to see me here.”

"Not really,” Sokka said. “Since you've followed us all over the world!”

“Right,” Zuko said, wincing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, uh, anyway, what I wanted to tell you about is that I've changed, and I, uh, I'm good now, and well I think I should join your group, oh, and I can teach firebending to you. See, I, uh-”

“You want to what now?” you asked sharply, exchanging a look with Katara.

“You can't possibly think that any of us would trust you, can you?” she asked, opening her water skin. “I mean, how stupid do you think we are?!”

Zuko’s eyes shifted to you before he answered. “You trust her. She’s a firebender.”

Your eyes widened in anger and you began to march up to the prince, only stopping when Katara held you back.

“I am not, a firebender,” you hissed, staring Zuko down. “And I am not Fire Nation.”

Zuko stayed quiet, his eyes drifting from your red shirt to the hairpiece on your head. You followed his line of sight, eyes widening when you realized he was staring at the sunstone. You yanked your arm out of Katara’s grip, angrily stomping out of the room. You quickly stripped yourself of your red top as soon as you were out of sight before sighing deeply and pulling your hairpiece out. You arrived at the sleeping chamber and sat down on your sleeping bag quietly, holding the hairpiece in your hand tightly.

You stared at it sadly, the sunstone glinting in the dim light. Without hesitation, you pulled your arm back and flung it away, watching the sunstone glint in the sunlight as it rolled towards the edge. It was gone in a second, tumbling over the edge of the temple.

Now you were truly no longer Fire Nation.

Your life had just gotten ten times harder now that Zuko had been allowed to join the group. The defeat of Combustion Man had been intense and you had found injured when it was all over. Unlike Sokka, you had never been good with fighting, always relying on your intelligence to get you out of dire situations. With Combustion Man however, that proved to be a problem, and you had found yourself caught in the middle of a fight with no protection whatsoever.

In addition to the pain of your injury, you found yourself dealing with the prince’s presence. You found yourself avoiding the group entirely, taking on the more tedious chores (like laundry) to avoid spending time with the group and even hanging out with Haru, Teo, and The Duke as they explored the temple.

Tensions didn’t rise until a few days later, beginning when Aang approached you with an idea. After your tragic failure with Combustion Man, Aang believed that you needed to learn how to protect yourself and he thought that the right way to do that was by learning how to firebend. You had vehemently refused, accidentally yelling at the Air Nomad as everyone else watched in silence.

The argument was put on pause for a few days when Aang and Zuko traveled to the Sun Warriors’ ruins but when they came back, Toph had sided with him as well. You felt slightly betrayed by the small earthbender but still refused, stating that there was no way you would willingly learn how to firebend. At least you still had Sokka and Katara on your side.

At least you did until Sokka and Zuko took a trip to The Boiling Rock the next day. When they got back two days later, Sokka was on Aang’s side as well. The fight with Azula on the gondola had left him shaken as he realized just how hard it was to fight a bender with just a sword. You didn’t know how to use a sword, but you could firebend and so Sokka became one of Aang’s supporters. Katara was the only one who was still on your side, but that changed when Azula raided the temple.

Everyone had been woken up suddenly, reacting a bit slower than normal as Azula appeared. She immediately lunged at you, shooting blasts of blue fire as she stalked closer to you. Your eyes were wide with fear, dodging her attacks as much as you could.

“Watch out!” Zuko yelled, tackling you from the side, a pillar crashing down where you had been standing as a result of Azula’s lightning. You grunted softly as you landed, the breath leaving your lungs as Zuko landed on top of you. You opened your eyes immediately, meeting bright gold irises before they looked away as Zuko began to scan you for any visible injuries. Zuko’s hands rested on either side of your head as he tried to keep his weight off of you, not that it helped considering you were still struggling to catch your breath.

Or maybe you were struggling to catch your breath because of how close he was.

“Are you okay?” Zuko asked, drawing your attention back to him. Scowling, you threw him off of you before scrambling to your feet, rushing to help Katara when you heard her yelp. Zuko noticed Toph earthbend a tunnel into the side of the temple, and rushed to join the others. His eyes landed on you as you threw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging another one of Azula’s deadly blasts. The princess grabbed you by the hair, laughing maniacally before dragging you to the airships.

“What are you doing?” Aang yelled, noticing that Zuko had stopped in his path.

“Azula has (Y/N)!” Zuko replied, turning around and facing the airships. “I’m gonna go get her.”

Katara rushed to Aang’s side, exchanging a worried look with him before getting on top of Appa. The rest of the Gaang joined them, holding on tight as they tried to maneuver the sky bison through all the debris.

Zuko ran and launched himself onto the airship, landing safely on top of one. He glared at his sister, noticing that she was still holding onto you.

“Let her go, Azula!” Zuko yelled, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” Azula replied, the blue flame in her palm growing brighter as she held it up to your face. “I think I’ll get rid of her instead. Then I’ll get rid of you. I can’t wait to celebrate being an only child.”

She inched the flame closer to your face, prompting Zuko to shoot a fire blast near her head. Growling, Azula tossed you to the side before confronting Zuko. The two siblings fought for a few minutes and you tried your best to avoid any wayward blasts. The fight stopped when they both struck at the same time, the resulting blast blowing both of them backwards.

“Zuko!” you cried, sprinting to grab the boy before he fell. You managed to grab onto his hand but his momentum sent you both tumbling into the chasm, a scream getting stuck in your throat as you plummeted. You were so overcome with fear that you didn’t notice Zuko pulling you into him, holding you close as you fell.

The fall didn’t last long, Appa managing to swoop in and save the two of you. You sat quietly on Appa’s saddle, both you and Zuko watching Azula as she kept falling.

“She’s...not gonna make it,” Zuko said softly, his arms tightening around you slightly. You watched with wide eyes as Azula used firebending to propel herself to the cliffside, sliding down a bit further before she took out her hairpin and stuck it into the side of the cliff, effectively ending her fall. “Of course she did.”

The seven of you sat in silence for a few minutes before Katara spoke up, tears in her eyes as she looked at you. “(Y/N), seeing Azula capture you got me thinking. I think...I think that you should learn how to firebend. You need to know how to defend yourself.”

“And I think that you can let go of each other now,” Sokka said cheekily, trying to diffuse the tension that had settled upon the group at Katara’s words. You shimmied out of Zuko’s hold, walking up to the Water Tribe girl and looking at her in disbelief.

“You’re supposed to be on my side Katara,” you hissed, flinching when she tried to reach for your hand. Without another words, you walked away and took Appa’s reins. The rest of the flight was silent, everybody knowing that now was not the time to be chatty.

Once again, you had retreated from the group. It wasn’t exactly hard considering the fact that now it was Katara and Zuko who had disappeared, gone on a quest to find her mother’s murderer. After a few days, Zuko reappeared alone and you found yourselves traveling to Ember Island.

Upon your arrival, you made your way over to Katara, who was standing quietly on the deck.

“I heard what you did,” you spoke first. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” she whispered back, still looking straight ahead.

“Why?”

She turned slightly, facing you before speaking. “It’s not in my nature to kill. I couldn’t bring myself to use my bending for that. I have the chance to prevent other’s from going through what I went through; from going through what you went through. I want to use my bending for good.”

You mulled over her words for a few seconds before sighing deeply and walking away. Aang watched you quietly as he walked over to Katara, his eyes widening slightly when you walked up to Zuko.

“Ok,” you said quietly, looking up at the prince. “Teach me how to firebend.”

Zuko’s eyes widened briefly before he crossed his arms and composed himself. “Tomorrow at dawn. Be ready.”

And ready you were. Every day. Firebending was a lot easier than you expected, and you found yourself breezing though the basics and the intermediate moves. It wasn’t until you got to the advanced moves that you began to have some trouble.

“No!” Zuko barked. “That’s not how it’s done. Again!”

Your eye twitched before you took your stance again, launching yourself into the move that you were currently working on. You sighed deeply when you realized you had done it wrong again.

“Wrong. Again.”

“If you’re so good at it then come and show me,” you snapped, fed up with his attitude. Zuko straightened up before walking over to you, motioning for you to take your stance once more. You rolled your eyes, blowing the hair out of your eyes before complying.

“I will,” he said, moving your arms into the right position. He walked around you and you opened your mouth to make another comment, stopping when his hand came around from behind and gently shut your jaw. “Don’t say anything.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he spoke. He was closer than you thought, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. You shivered when his hands landed on your back, fixing your posture before they made their way to your waist. He gripped your waist firmly, shifting you into position before leaning forwards slightly, whispering in your ear once more. “Do it again.”

Fighting a blush, you did as you were told. You chuckled breathlessly when you did it correctly this time, a blast of fire leaving your hand at the right moment.

“See? You did it,” Zuko said, a faint smirk on his lips. “You’re a natural.”

You bounced up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck in excitement. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist, enjoying the closeness of the hug. You leaned back slightly, meeting his eyes as you smiled cheesily. “It’s only because I have such a great teacher.”

The two of you walked back to the beach house, joking around after a long day of training. Upon entering the beach house, Katara pulled you aside. “(Y/N)! Thank goodness. I need your help in the kitchen!”

You gave Zuko an apologetic smile as you followed Katara, being met with an understanding nod as he went off on his own. Katara handed you a tray of cups, smirking slightly before speaking. “So, you and Zuko huh?”

“What? N-No,” you replied immediately.

“I’m talking about firebending. How’s that going?” Katara said, filling the cups with watermelon juice as she arched an eyebrow.

A bright blush spread across your cheeks as you realized what she was talking about. “O-Oh. It’s going great. Zuko’s been teaching me some advanced moves now!”

Katara hummed in reply, waving you away now that the cups were full. You headed out of the kitchen in a hurry, loosing your footing when you heard Katara speak yet again.

“I bet the next move he makes is gonna be on you.”

The conversation between you and Katara was basically forgotten as the days went by.

Zuko had informed the Gaang about his father’s plan to destroy the Earth Kingdom, causing you all to worry greatly. In addition, Aang had disappeared overnight and all attempts to find him had been futile.

And that’s how you found yourselves following June and her shirshu as she led you to Ba Sing Se, where Zuko’s Uncle Iroh was supposed to be. You had been warmly welcomed by the Order of the White Lotus and Zuko and Iroh had made up, leaving you with only a day to plan out what you were going to do before Sozin’s comet arrived.

It was quickly decided that the Order of the White Lotus would stay behind and reclaim Ba Sing Se while Sokka, Suki, and Toph would set out to destroy the airship fleet. Zuko had asked you and Katara to join him in defeating Azula and although Katara had agreed immediately, you were a bit hesitant. Of course, Zuko noticed and he decided to confront you about it.

“(Y/N),” Zuko said, coming up to you when you were prepping Appa for the ride. Katara was a few yards away, giving the two of you privacy. You glanced at Zuko before climbing onto Appa’s saddle, the prince following closely behind you. “What’s wrong?”

“Zuko, I,” you paused, breathing deeply. “I shouldn’t go. I just started bending and what is something goes wrong? I don’t want to be a liability to y-”

“Hey,” Zuko whispered, ducking his head to make eye contact with you. “I meant what I said on Ember Island. You’re a natural. You’ll be fine.”

You sighed before hugging your knees to your chest. “I just can’t believe that I’m actually returning to the Fire Nation, even if it’s to help you reclaim your throne. I’m just glad that maybe under your rule, things might finally change.”

Zuko stayed quiet before standing up and reaching for his bag. He shuffled around for a moment before kneeling behind you, his fingers gently grabbing your hair.

“What are you-”

“Shh,” Zuko cut you off. “Give me a second.”

His fingers weaved through your hair, putting it up into a style you were all too familiar with. He was gentle with his actions, letting his hands fall to your shoulders when he was done. “There.”

You reached up, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed over the sunstone that you had known your whole life.

“M-My hairpiece,” you gasped, tears springing to your eyes as you realized how much you had missed it. “How did you-”

“I found it at the Western Air Temple,” Zuko interrupted quietly. “It was after I came to you guys the first time. Katara sent me away and when I was walking under a balcony, it fell onto the ground. I recognized it so I picked it up. I assumed you would want it back at some point.”

Zuko fell backwards when you threw yourself at him, wrapping him up in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. A tiny gasp escaped him and you pulled back, meeting his eyes as he stared down at you. The two of you stared at each other for a few tense seconds before you both leaned forwards rapidly, your lips meeting in the middle.

Maybe it was a spur of the moment decision, kissing Zuko. Maybe it was due to to the anxiety bubbling up in you, your emotions hard to control as you prepared to end of the war in one way or another. Or maybe, it was simply two teenagers too shy to tell each other how they felt, finally sharing a tender moment.

“So, are we ready to go?” Katara asked. The two of you sprung apart, blushes on both of your faces as the Water Tribe girl smirked at you. Zuko nodded and you looked away, taking your place at Appa’s reins.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Yip yip.”

The fight had been a blur to you. You didn’t remember much other than the fact that Zuko had taken a bolt of lightning meant for you. After Zuko had been injured, you and Katara had teamed up to take Azula down. She had challenged you to an Agni Kai after striking Zuko and you had accepted in order to lure her away from his body. To say she had been surprised when you actually fought back with fire was an understatement.

With Katara’s help, you managed to chain her to an old grate before rushing over to aid Zuko. After Katara had done all she could, you helped Zuko into the palace where he had been taken to the infirmary. You hadn’t seen him since.

You had however, met back up with Aang, Sokka, Toph, and Suki. They informed the two of you of what they had done and in turn you had told them about Zuko’s injury. They were all worried about him but after hearing that Katara had healed him, they were slightly relieved.

The next time you saw the prince was on the day of his coronation. Some of the palace guards had come for you, stating that Zuko was requesting your presence. You felt your heart jump into your throat as you nodded, allowing them to lead you through the palace until you came to a pair of gilded doors.

“He’s in there,” one of the guards said. “Would you like us to announce your arrival?”

“No, it’s fine. I can just knock,” you said meekly, causing the guards to smile amusedly. You bowed shortly to them before turning to face the door, gently knocking and waiting for a response.

“Come in!”

The door swung open at your touch and you awkwardly stepped inside, still standing near the doorway as your gaze landed on Zuko.

“Close it,” he said, his voice quiet yet rough. You complied, stepping aside and shutting the door before inching closer. He was shirtless, thick bandages covering his torso. Covering the new scar he had earned because of you. He turned around, his face softening when his eyes met yours.

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes scanning you for injuries the way he did back when Azula raided the Western Air Temple.

“Hi, how are you?” you squeaked, shuffling awkwardly. You winced at your words, blushing in embarrassment as Zuko’s lips quirked up. He walked over to his bed before picking up the shirt he was going to wear.

“I’m fine. How are you?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips as he began to put it on. His smile dropped as he moved too harshly, pain shooting through his torso as he struggled to pull the fabric on.

“Spirits! Be careful,” you said, all embarrassment leaving you as you rushed forwards and took the shirt from his hands. “Here, let me.”

You helped him slide one arm in before slipping it over his shoulders and guiding his other arm in as well. You grabbed the belt used to hold it in place before standing in front of him. Your breath caught in your throat as you eyed the bandages, guilt settling in your stomach as you softly placed a hand on his chest. Zuko’s hands automatically went to your waist, pulling you closer to him as he stared at you worriedly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, still looking at his chest. “This was my fault.”

“Hey,” Zuko replied, one of hands leaving your waist to lift your chin. You shivered softly at the action, your eyes finally meeting his bright gold ones. “It wasn’t your fault. Azula shouldn’t have done it in the first place. She challenged me to an Agni Kai, not you.”

“You should’ve let it hit me,” you said, looking at him sadly. “I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if Katara hadn’t been there. Zuko, you could’ve d-”

Your eyes widened and your words died on your throat when Zuko leant down, softly pressing his lips to yours. The hand that was still on your waist wrapped around you, pulling you closer as Zuko kissed you gently. He began to pull away after a few seconds, noticing your lack of response. Mentally kicking yourself, you began to kiss back, closing your eyes as you wrapped your free arm around his neck to keep him close. Zuko couldn’t help but smile at your response.

“I took that hit because I love you, (Y/N),” Zuko whispered, finally pulling away and leaning his forehead against yours. “I couldn’t let Azula hurt you.”

“Zuko, I-I love you too,” you confessed, your eyes still closed. Suddenly, you pulled away before gently swatting his head. “But that doesn’t make what you did any less stupid.”

“Hey! I saved your life!” he exclaimed, rubbing his head.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes before hugging him close once again. “And I love you for it. But never, and I mean never, do that again.”

“No promises,” Zuko replied, guiding your lips to his once more. This kiss was different, full of trust and love and peace.

You pulled away reluctantly, fixing his shirt and looping the belt around him before taking his hand. “Now let’s go. You have a coronation to get to.”

Zuko stopped for a second, pulling you back to him as he looked at you uncertainly. You looked up at him curiously, prompting him to speak.

“Are you-” Zuko stopped abruptly, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Will you stay with me? Here? Even after everyone else leaves?”

You hesitated for a split second, remembering everything that you had suffered at the hands of the Fire Nation. You opened your mouth to reply, looking up to meet Zuko’s gaze. You faltered for a moment, taking in the way he was looking at you. Here in front of you stood the crown prince, the very symbol of the nation that you had spent the majority of your life hating. But he was also just a teen, and he was willing to put in the work to fix the Fire Nation’s past mistakes.

Your heart swelled in your chest as you thought about the golden-eyed boy , and everything he had done to help the Avatar. Because of him, the Fire Nation now had a chance at redemption, and you knew it wouldn’t be easy to undo centuries of imperialism and pain. Especially not when it was so deeply rooted in the nation. And so you answered his question, confident that you were making the right decision.

“Of course I’ll stay, Zuko. And I’ll be here to help you every step of the way.”

taglist!

@musicalkeys, @mywigglybaby, @bubblebars, @iguessthefloorislava, @dekahg, @boxofteenageideas, @bottledcotscowater, @butterflycore, @coldlilheart, @the-firebender-girl, @ajediherowitchrunner, @lammello, @astroninaaa, @samsmultifandomblogs, @sadskater25, @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak, @duh-dobrik

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igzsatelier · 3 years

Text

Badd Thinking of You

Ahh, my pompadour boy...

• He's a well-known problem student, and he hardly comes to his classes because of his reputation. And also because he doesn't care about learning. So you doubt he have any friends who wouldn't be afraid of him, especially since he looks intimidating.

• This dude gives no fucks to anybody, let alone someone wanting to befriend him. He'll be crude and indifferent about it, but he would still give you a chance to speak with him. If you keep being persistent on approaching him, he can get annoyed and might yell at you. Although thats true, that doesn't mean he won't change his opinions on you the longer you spent together.

• If he thinks you're cool in some way for example, your patience or maybe you're the type of person to smile during desperate situations to reassure someone who's afraid, he'll immediately consider you as a buddy

• He would definitely make fun of you and tease you. Seeing you pissed off at his comments puts him in a jolly mood, but if it truly upsets you, he'll drop it and never mention it again, along with several apologies.

• Next time you're in school, he'll hang out with you! If he's even there in the first place. Actually, he might come to school more often just to talk to you. If you both aren't in the same class, he will go out of his own class, strides into yours, pull out a chair and sit next to you. Then cue the class being confused and horrified at his sudden entrance.

• You would get annoyed by this guy because you can imagine him being bored out of his mind and he decides to bother you while you're trying to focus in class. Please tell him to shut up, and he would begrudgingly watch you do your classwork with a petulant pout...

• You'll end up being the talk of the school. Its annoying, yes, but Badd would be there to cuss them out. You're his friend! He would protect you from any threats, he's a hero after all. Don't worry (Y/n), he'll teach them a lesson for hurting you!

• He'll quickly realise that he's been thinking of you a lot more than he intended to... He'll start having these weird fuzzy feelings whenever he's with you. You look so pretty today, have you always been this pretty? F'course you do! B-But you look kinda different today... You look a lot more happier today, and woah... your smile is really cute too. Wait a damn minute--

• He doesn't know how to deal with this. He would unconsciously stare at you a little longer than necessary with soft eyes and a big smile, if you catch him he'll be incredibly embarrassed and quickly changes the subject.

• He finds himself helping you out and sometimes doting on you plenty of times. Its kinda weird to think that he would take care of someone who isn't a member of his family. Not that he minds, he likes being with you, and wants to be around you as much as he can.

• He'll definitely impress you with his strength and manliness, and also his cool stunts. He becomes proud and cocky when you see it. It makes him feel accomplish, and maybe it'll get you to pay attention to him a little bit more?

• You occupy his thoughts almost all the time. Almost as much as Zenko. His heart raced when he fantasized you calling his name while grinning, seeing you holding his hand and you shyly asking him if you could kiss him, a blush on your cute face. You both lean in close, lips almost touching, before he quickly snaps out of it because of how embarrassing it is.

• Zenko will notice and will force her big brother to tell her what's bothering him. Once he tells her, she will have this cheeky grin on her face and proclaims that she's going to help her brother how to deal with crushes. Badd's embarrassed but grateful about it, he will talk about you a lot with his little sister.

• Zenko will get annoyed if Badd hasn't told his feelings to you yet so she threatens to tell you herself if he keeps avoiding it, which causes Badd to freak out and begs her to not tell you HE wiLL dIE.

• He really wants to confess to you so badly, but he always chickens out at the last minute. He would play it off and act like nothing happened. When he does confess, he will stammer horribly until he shouts at you out of frustration how much he likes you. And he mentally prepares the worst while simultaneously hoping that you like him too.

• Reject him and he will look dejected, then he coughs it off, nodding at you and telling you he totally understands. He's really sad that you don't feel the same way, but he's fine being friends with you, and he tries really hard to get over you without having you hating him. That would break him even more.

• Accept him and he will fist-pump the air, shouting out a YES! He will bring you to his chest and spin you around happily, laughing boisterously. When he realizes that he's hugging you, he immediately puts you down and awkwardly apologizes to you, bashful but still grinning. He promised to make it up to you by taking you out on a date.

• Excitedly tells Zenko that he scored a date with you and telling her that you like him too. They both hug each other as Zenko congrats him, proceeding to tell their parents about Badd's date, much to his dismay. Then his family lectures him to be on his best behaviour and telling him what he should and shouldn't do on his first date, all the while Badd grinning sheepishly with a huge blush on his face as he listens to his family intently.

Did I ever tell you that delinquent dorks are my favourite??

#ao3 #metal bat #one punch man #metal bat opm #metal bat headcanons #metal bat x reader #one punch man x reader #this angry boi #i love him and Zenko #zenko #zenko opm #myposts #mywritings

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7soulstars · 3 years

Note

hey there. I don't know if you are taking requests rn so if you don't just ignore this one. I was hoping if you could do various avengers x reader .. reader has the ability to manupilate emotions , she can take away emotional pain, negativity and sadness from anyone and replace them with relief, positivity and peace, by simply hugging the person! every avenger turns to her after a mission for cuddles and comfort, you can take it from there if you like! thank you💞

Hey darling ! Thank you so much for requesting! I really really love this request it’s really so adorable oof- I made it into a fic and I hope you like it! Anyways, lets get straight into into it !!

Euphoria

Pairing: Avengers x Avenger! Reader

Warnings: Little like really little angst, Hydra, Overwhelming fluff, Half the Avengers act like literal babies around Y/N . I HAVE ALL THE AVENGERS SAFE AND ALIVE IN THIS AND AVENGER LOKI !! Ooc characters??

Summary: Sometimes even the empath needs empathy but she refuses to say it

............

Euphoria ; the experience of excitement and intense feelings of well-being and happiness.

A silent motion walks down the streets, a silent motion called The Empathic Soul that was involved with them, The Avengers. While the rest protected, she distracted, like a guardian of the common folk who had never seen her. They wouldn’t know, but they praised, thanked and loved. Every time there was pain, there was war, there was casualties, she was there and they just knew it. They looked around but couldn’t guess. The sudden wave of calmness replacing their sorrow and panic distracting their attention from her, their silent protector.

That was what the world had named Y/N, The Empathic Soul as she watched the title flash on the TV screen at Stark towers as she sat beside Vision who was failing to crochet no matter how hard he tried. Y/N wouldn’t consider herself a hero, she didn’t fight bad guys although she was very capable of doing that, she didn’t go and almost get herself killed for the sake of getting rid of ‘pests’.

But she was an Avenger ? Yes. She was, but she didn’t consider herself a hero.

She was behind the scenes, away from common eyes just there to clean up the mess and to take the worry of the mess out of everyone’s head. The Avengers had a polarising reputation. Although it got better after they won against Thanos there were still those who disliked them. But there was not a single civilian who would speak out the title of the Empathic Soul in despise. Y/N would like to keep it that way she had told Fury. She didn’t really have the best life growing up, the strain had given her the powers and she wouldn’t dare use it for anything other than the good of the people. She knew protecting someone came with a cost. Her powers can be used for things unimaginable, wrong things and that’s why she needed to stay anonymous.

Though not all praises about Y/N may be true, one thing was for sure. She was a gem, one of the most selfless person anyone had ever met. With or without knowing about her powers. She couldn’t stand seeing someone sad and that is what made her the sole person every single Avenger was ready to get along with each other for.

Y/N had been a part of the team for 3 years now and she had made all the trauma dissipate and had even managed to make the most unapproachable team mmates open up. She had made sure Stark Towers was always warm and fuzzy no matter how cold the world seemed.

The meanest of all things Y/N has done is manipulate the emotions of people like Zemo to make them confess and feel the pain of the people they caused pain to reflect and repent whenever Agent Everett called her in for.

The robotic voice of Vision snapped her out of her zone as she looked at him as he pointed at the elevator. As Y/N turned to look she felt an overwhelming level of tension.

Oh. It’s one of those days.....

The door opened to a familiar multitude of spandex and metal clad people filling into the living room all making an aggressive beeline at the empathic.

“I CALL DIBS ON Y/N !”,yelled some simultaneously as they glared at each other and argued. Some went straight to the bar pouring themselves a drink and another very specific non alcoholic one along with it. Some stood frozen, colour drained off their face, to be more specific, Wanda,Peter,Bucky and Bruce. Peter walking straight into Y/N’s arms as she held them open as soon as she saw them. Wanda and Bruce following as Vision looms and floats behind them.

“That bad huh ?”, Y/N asked as she tried managing to drag the four towards the couch and plopped down with them. Bruce parted away from her and Wanda followed suit a pleasant smile slapping onto their face.

“18 casualties ”, she heard the blonde star spangled man as he wrapped an arm around her waist moving to hug her by the side as Natasha’s arms wraps around Y/N neck from behind the couch, her head plopped on top of Y/N’s for a few before she whispered a thank you and left to go find Bruce. “And 5 completely decapitated buildings you always forget the buildings Steve ! Now move I need a hug from our gal !”, Sam complained as he agressively made motions for Steve to move away from Y/N as he nearly tackles her. “Careful Sammy, it seems like Peter’s fallen asleep”, the empath notifies as she carefully rests the Spiderboy’s head on the couch from herself as Tony lays a blanket on his body.

“Kid was really hard on himself today, he froze mid battle and was thrown right onto a car, the injury was not that bad but it sure was something. He kept asking if he could call you the whole way back”, Tony said as Y/N stroked Peter’s hair as she got up. “Made you a drink as I poured myself one”, he said offering the glass to her which she took and set back down on the table and then proceeded to take Tony’s glass away from him before he could even sip on it. “This is your third glass and I can sense your annoyance, come here ”, Y/N scolded him as he opened his arms for a hug. “My suit broke down halfway through the fight”,complained Tony into Y/N’s hug as she patted his back, concentrating on pushing the positivity strain in the man.

“I need to be back at the sanctum.... Y/N ?”, came a voice making Tony groan why is it that every time I hug her that you need a hug? The sanctum can wait ! Isn’t Wong there?” “Tony...”, warned Y/N earning a eyeroll from the billionare as he made her promise him hugs later as he sauntered away. Y/N let out a soft laugh before taking Stephens hands into hers and a gentle smile . Stephen placed his hand on her cheek as a smile plastered on his face. “You should have come with us......they-......I and the rest of them needed you.....”,he mumbled making sure no one heard. “I’m sorry, I would have joined but I had to get some Hydra agents to spill some secrets.....”,she reasoned. “If I did not have to return I would have loved to talk to you more about how I feel.....although you will feel it before me and-” “I come visit tomorrow”, she stated simply earning a sigh of relief from the other as he stepped into the portal still hesitating to leave your hand.

There were three left Y/N knew. And she knew where they would be. She walked down the hall that leads up to all their rooms, a door opened and before she could react she was lifted into a bone crushing hug who’s only culprit could be the golden retriever god. “Thor! I was looking for you! How are you feeling!” “Pretty usual Lady Y/N ! I suppose you are visiting my brother ! I couldn’t join today’s mission, I was visiting Asgard ! Anyways I shall let you be !”, and with that he went back into his room. He wanted stay but he knew so needed her more than him he decided he could bother her later.

“They were children ! Can Midgardians stoop this low, they were experimenting on children !”, Y/N could hear as she got closer to the door at the end of the corridor. She opened the door slowly and softly, right after knocking it once.

She saw a flash of black and and overwhelming sense of anger and sorrow before she was tackled by two bodies that made sure her head didn’t hit the floor.

“Hey calm down wow what the hell Loki? Buck? What went THAT wrong?” , Y/N asked the two who had gotten quite close to each other with help of her involvement throughout the years. They realized their similarity and now shared quite of lot of things with each other that they could never tell others. Well, other than Y/N. Y/N slowly replaced their emotions as they let out an appreciative grunt. Before sitting back up. “The people taken hostage by Hydra were children. They were beaten badly, hell some were flinching even when we tried getting them out. I may have done some questionable things in my life but I would never think of doing anything to children. This why this planet needs to be ruled !”,spat Loki in frustration as Y/N rubbed his back soothingly. They were silent for a while before Bucky spoke up. “Those kids were being trained, like Nat. Easier to manipulate, easier to make into soldiers like me.” Y/N sighed, her face dropping as she tried not to hiss in pain. “You saved them though right ? I will probably be called to rehabilitate them. I promise I’ll make them feel better”, she tried to assure them. “ It is not about that darling, I just wonder how many children might be there in Midgard that are being forced into things like this out of their will.”

Y/N never said anything after that but what happened was bothering her and was clear as water. But every time they would try asking her she would quickly change their mood to a Euphoric state and distract them. It felt as if matters were getting worst and Y/N looked sicker and sicker. The team had no choice but to ask Fury.

“ I suppose she has not informed you about her mutation.”

“ What about it ?”

“Well it is not as easy as she makes it seem. You see, every time she replaces an emotion, she feels them. The malice, the pain and everything stays inside her and will stay that way until it is not given to other people. Y/N grew up in an abusive home. Empathy was never shown to her and it got worse by the time she was 15. She first started experiencing immense pain and one day it became intolerable. The pain, without her will got transferred to everyone in that house. No normal human could handle it the way she could and they eventually died because of it. She blames herself and that is why she is not allowed to go on missions with you because we fear that might happen again.”

Everyone was bit shocked by the story they were bombarded with. The felt guilt. All this time it was her who was comforting them and never once had they asked her about how she felt. In fact, if Y/N had not interfered with certain things they might have regretted their actions or may have committed unforgivable acts.

She was their hero. And sometimes the hero needs to be saved to.

Y/N was startled to say the least when her bedroom door burst open and several bodies jumped on her making her feel a sudden high and the pain in her head trying to leave She closed her eyes and tried as hard as possible t not let go of it.

“Y/N I swear to god let it all out ! Were a lot of people we can handle it ! Be a little less harsh on yourself !”, nagged Wanda leaving the empath speechless over the fact that they found out her secret. After more perstering she let go. “Jesus Christ !/Oh my god!/How do you live with this!”, yelled different people simultaneously as they felt what Y/N has been holding to herself for all these years. “Lady Y/N I take back what I said about being the strongest it seems like you are the strongest one to be able to do this and take care of all of us with a smile”, Thor declared.

“You know we love you right miss Y/N ?”,Peter questioned.

Y/N couldn’t say anything if she did she would cry. Her heart swelled even more and for the first time in her life she felt like she truly belonged. The soft tune of Euphoria by Jungkook played in the background the lyrics etching the end of this story.

“Take my hand now, you are the cause of my Euphoria”

--The End--

....... I have never written such an intricate fic on this app. I do not know if it is good or not anymore because I am in too much feels. I really really hope you like this *crosses fingers in anticipation*.This was really fun to write! I did delete the draft like 7 times though because I wasn’t confident about it😅.. I really hope you like this🥺🥺.....Please like and reblog my posts if you like them! Feedback is highly appreciated and please do not plagarize my work. I really work my ass of on them! Thank you so much for supporting me darlings !❤🥰

~Love, Hri

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starshavegoneastray · 3 years

Text

Perfect Lovers

Angst // h.hj

Inspired by Félix González-Torres 'Untitled (Perfect Lovers)' 1991; an installation art.

CW // loss of a loved one

1,923 Words

IT has been a while since Hyunjin came out of his apartment. The door to his unit creaked louder than he anticipated, but couldn’t blame the lack of new oil it required in order to work. Green carpet under his soles felt a little different from the last time he mindlessly trudged and tumbled into his cold unit. Newly painted hall greeted him, and before he knew it, he was waving politely at the landlord as he stepped outside of the building.

His blonde hair, caught by the wind as cars passed by, had gone longer than the last time he locked himself, reaching just above his shoulders in a half up half down. For sure it hadn’t been long, but the new stores that opened up right next to the bakery he visited often made it seem like he’d missed at least three months.

That was enough time for Hyunjin to get cooped up inside his tiny living space, free from any pain he had to endure. It was just the right number of weeks for him to be by himself, to look for some sort of interest in order to get his mind off the unpleasant thoughts hunting him for the past weeks.

Painting was one of the things he did, recalling the amount of oil paints and canvases littering across his apartment floors. He’d given up on sketching because the only image running around his head was you. The outcome made him light a match and let it eat the paper into ashes. A similar occurrence happened the last time he painted, but instead of setting the building on fire he decided to dump a whole bucket of lightning blue over it, then left it as it is in his work room.

Part of him wanted to rekindle that passion again, to get his brush going across the canvas and start over. But he lost the spark to ignite his flames, and morning came to replace the light he lost. Leaving him to scout for some sort of exit during the darkening night. He’d doused himself in bottles and bottles of booze the other night, and woke up the next morning with a booked ticket to an exhibit downtown on his laptop.

Hyunjin took his time wandering amongst the crowd, feeling the warmth of the room as people gathered around a few installations placed along the way, and paintings hung up on walls. Some visitors came in batches of elementary students in their orange uniforms, there were groups of (possibly) art students admiring another philosophical work, then there were the interested couples. He came alone in his cream knit vest, black cross bag and a pamphlet in his hands.

There was a mini map of the exhibition inside the neatly folded paper between his fingers, and he began at the very first spot his eyes landed on which were the paintings. Hyunjin stared at a few fancy frames, before moving along to the next in hopes of catching a glimpse of interest within the colors, the shapes, perspectives, anything.

He looked at his pamphlet again then proceeded to the next part of the exhibit. Sculptures in many shapes and sizes stood on white pedestals, behind glass boxes, and even stood on their own to showcase its amazing heights. More people took pictures here, seeing this is a perfect spot for such activity. Hyunjin, after looking around at the people pulling their phones and posing for the camera, fished for his own from the pocket of his jeans and snapped a clay statue that he thought looked like a memorable piece. A smile crept up his full lips, chuckling as he slid his fingers across the screen at the picture he took.

Y/n would love this.

Hyunjin’s lips faltered slowly. Just when he thought he could put down the weights from his shoulder, he couldn’t. Not now. Not even after three whole months. Every time he gets a little happy, he thinks of you. And you were the reality he’s not ready for. With a push of a button, his screen turned void and he shoved his gadget back from where he took them before walking to the next part of the exhibit.

Nothing caught his eye. Not the paintings, not the statues, not the impressive wall art on one side of the building. For starters, he never really frequently visited an exhibit. He started going to some back in the day because of someone’s influence. Someone who would go out of their way to get two entry tickets and accompany him despite their responsibilities and schedule. The same person who would be the first to point out an artist’s work and the meanings behind the intricate strokes, dents, parts, and smudges. The very individual who taught him how to paint.

He kept glancing back and forth towards the pamphlet once he realized he’s stepping into the installations exhibit; the field of art he’s having trouble understanding. Nothing ever makes sense in his eyes, as his steps progress deeper into more stacks of cups, papers, possibly metals displayed on the floor. His eyes jumped from one installation to the other, and all he could process were the odd-looking mismatched objects glued to one another. But he knew for a fact it was because he did something wrong, not because the language doesn’t click.

Take your time, the three words lingered like an aftertaste of a bitter coffee in the shape of your voice. That was what he did as soon as his eyes landed on two clocks hung up on a wall side by side. Félix González-Torres was written on a card right next to the installation, under the title that named the art:

‘Untitled (Perfect Lovers)'.

Take your time, and it’ll all make sense.

Two of the same clocks ticking by the same exact time like what they are and what they’re intended to do; to tell the time. Their needles ticked by the number ten, then ran past eleven. Hyunjin chuckled after the hour hands slightly moved closer to the number seven simultaneously as the seconds morphed with the minute hand on twelve. Upon closer inspection, it was his first time seeing an hour hand move. Nothing fascinating, but now that he thought about it, he’s a quick-paced guy; he never stopped for once to take in the smallest things around him.

Different from how you were. He could almost see it, you would probably stop on your tracks as well, and stared at the two clocks which bore a deep meaning that only few could understand. Installation is a language that took some time to perceive, it’s a different concept of relaying opinions, messages, or a story. The language of art isn’t just from how visually pleasing it is, but also how the message behind it resonates with the people who interact with it. It’s not what you see in it, but it’s how you feel when you see it. Because it captures emotions and memories that exist without a visual form.

Hyunjin never got that idea through his head, especially when he encountered the particular abstract movements. But perhaps his perspective changed once he noticed the right clock began ticking a little slower than the left, gradually falling behind and out of sync; as many clocks do.

Eventually one of them would stop working as the exhibit went on.

For many reasons, you were the very first person he thought of. Fights were a repetitive occurrence but it never tore you apart from each other. And even when disagreements filled the gap, somehow you both found a way to come to terms with it. Your dynamics brought the best out of him, even he was surprised himself. And the both of you had the craziest idea of holding onto each other, until time did their worst and pulled you apart from his grasp on one spring.

Despite the green hues covering his steps, the grey morning he returned from your funeral was one of the hardest things he had to do. Walking back out was another hell he didn’t want to live in, so he locked himself in where he could succumb into an indefinite amount of sorrow and grief at the loss of the love of his life.

Perhaps the harsh reality pushed him at his worst, locking you up in his attic, only to have you drip down the ceiling and he could only see you, you, and you. Even in his dreams, all he saw was you.

The only argument he couldn’t come to terms with was the fact that you’re not here to hold onto him anymore.

But the title still remains ‘Perfect Lovers’. Even when the two hands fall from each other, going their separate ways, or stop dead on their tracks, they were the best for one another. His heartbreak was the evidence of your unconditional love. A mark that will forever be remembered as your beautiful life that collided with his at the imperfectly perfect timing. Despite the circumstances, despite the abrupt end to your chapter with him, you remain as his perfect lover.

It was a small flower shop that opened right next to the bakery Hyunjin stopped by. Warm scent of croissant filled up the air as he leaned back onto the white chair, scrolling back through his phone as another warm loaf met his full lips.

“Did you visit the exhibition?” A voice made him crane his neck to see the owner of the little bakery in his white apron pulling a chair to sit next to Hyunjin. He nodded as a reply, munching slowly at the warm bread while letting his friend see the pictures he took.

“You know, Minho,” Hyunjin began to speak, putting down the goods on the plate as he did so, “I thought my time would stop the second hers did.”

Minho listened intently, not too sure where he’s going with the conversation. “But I guess, even soulmates aren’t synchronized.”

Hyunjin looked around the afternoon sunlit streets. Orange hues kissing the autumn leaves that fall from their respective trees adorning the chalkboard sign he drew an hour ago for the bakery. Minho exhaled, taking Hyunjin’s phone gently and swiping a few pictures until he stopped at one with two store bought clocks that was supposed to be deemed an art.

“Is that another philosophy you learned for today?” The question made the blonde boy lean back on his chair, crossing both arms on his chest and said, like it’s a matter of fact, “It’s a new language I learned.”

A tiny small pulled the sides of Minho’s cheeks at his friend’s little banter, it has been a while since he’d last heard of Hyunjin’s sassy remarks. Pinching and zooming the photo, Minho asks again, “And what do you think about it?”

“I think…”

He thought of your eyes, the crinkly ones every time a smile adorn your face at the paintings he finished, or the paints he threw your way, coloring a few strains of your hair. And the way you cried in front of an art you resonated with the most, as if the world you see was filled with the same frequency of affection, despair, desire, sadness, or happiness that none could muster or perceive. Your heartfelt emotions that never fail to make him fall harder every day. And he knew definitely how you’d feel if you’d come along.

“…Y/n would have loved it as much as I do.”

#imagines #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin #stray kids hwang hyunjin

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barsformars · 3 years

Text

Dean's Office

g - fluff

p - wooyoung x reader

w.c - 1.2k

t.w - none

c - reader who is not very well liked among the teachers meets wooyoung, their table partner and the complete opposite of them in the teachers' eyes, in the dean's office.

a.n - this has been sitting in my drafts forever i almost forgot to post it because ive been working on requests jdjsjsj

t.l - @closer-stars @jeongyunhoed @fairyofdusk

If there was anyone you would never expect to see sitting in the dean's office, it would be your table partner. Sure, he's can be a little rowdy and annoying at times but apart from that, he's the closest thing to a model student.

"Wooyoung? The hell are you doing here? I thought you were just late for class, like for the first time in your life." Oh, perhaps you should have minded your language a little more. Since, you know, you're in the dean's office.

Wooyoung whipped his head around, as surprised, or maybe even more, to ever see you here. Sure, your grades have always been excellent but apart from that, you're the closest thing to a substitute teacher's worst nightmare. Speaking of substitute teachers, that's exactly why you were called in here. But wait, Wooyoung is speaking.

"Oh, they wanted to thank me for representing the school in that dance competition I went last month-"

Eurgh, they call people in just for that too?"

-along with many other things......" Wooyoung's voice trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to come across as arrogant, though you already knew very well that he was far from that. There was a reason he was one of your favourite people in school.

"Oh." Your eyebrows arched up at his words as you nodded slowly, taking a seat in the chair that he had already pulled out for you. "So where did Mrs Noh go?" You asked, legs crossed and fingers impatiently tapping on the mahogany desk.

"She had to pick up a call," Wooyoung replied, letting out a soft scoff and grin when he saw the way you were sitting. Most people would be too nervous to even breathe in the dean's office but here you were acting like the place was yours. Have you been in here before without him knowing? "I haven't asked but, what are you doing here? I suppose it's not for something praise-worthy?" When you shot him a look that was half out of disbelief and half of ridicule, Wooyoung knew that he shouldn't even have asked. Not that he thought you were a bad person - you weren't - you were just not very well liked by the teachers for, well, many reasons.

"I told the substitute literature teacher that his teaching was worse than eating an unsalted rotten kimchi." You shrugged, you didn't think you had done anything worth being called to the dean's office for. You were just speaking the truth. "What?" Wooyoung stared at you, waiting for you to carry on with your story, knowing that was definitely not everything that went down while he was away from you (he would have made you apologised right away if he was there). "Okay, okay, so then I just stood up and left the class because I couldn't sit in there listening to his rubbish any longer."

"I leave you alone in class for like 15 minutes and shit happens," Wooyoung sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed his temples. "And it was literally only 15 minutes, just what did he say for you to conclude so quickly that he was bad at teaching?"

Before you could start ranting to Wooyoung, the dean opened the door with an apologetic smile directed towards Wooyoung, her wrinkled face shrivelling up even further with displeasure when she noticed that you were there as well.

What would be the better facial expression in response to that? Rolling your eyes, like your natural instincts tell you to, or faking an innocent smile, because that was what Wooyoung would tell you to do? You had no choice but to settle for the latter when Wooyoung nudged your leg, simultaneously telling you to sit properly as well.

You don't even know why you listen to Wooyoung so well. You usually hate it when others tell you to do, but if Wooyoung were to ask you to walk into Louis Vuitton and attempt to steal a $10,000 bag for him, you would. Not that he would ever, but yes, you would, and not even mention his name during interrogation.

"You should spend more time with people like Wooyoung, then maybe you will learn to have some manners!" Mrs Noh criticised, causing you and Wooyoung you exchange knowing looks as the both of you tried your very best to not burst out laughing.

"Good grades mean nothing if your attitude is bad!"

"Yes, ma'am."

After making Wooyoung sit through your scolding and you his mini award ceremony, the dean sent the both of you back to class together. "She said we should spend more time together," Wooyoung giggled, poking at your side as he wiggled his eyebrow.

"Gross, I'm sick from having to see your face everytime I turn to my left when I'm just trying appreciate Yeosang's visuals," you pretended to gag and Wooyoung proceeded to reach for your head to ruffle your hair, purposely annoying you as a punishment for saying that. Maybe you shouldn't have made it seem that you hated Wooyoung doing that, because it was the total opposite. Your heart was already starting to race

."How awkward will it be if you walked back into class right now?" Wooyoung laughed, thinking about how you would still have to sit through another hour of the substitute teacher's class. When you don't send a kick to his butt like you usually would, Wooyoung turned to look at you, slightly concerned.

"Are you that angry just thinking about it? Your face is so red."

Silence.

"Y-"

"Jeong Wooyoung, I like you." You blurted out, completely taking Wooyoung, and yourself, by surprise. Well technically, it wasn't the fact that you had feelings for him that came as a shock to him. It would take an idiot to not see that you were whipped for him, and vice versa. Wooyoung just didn't think that you would ever admit it, because he would never, and you must say, you didn't either.

"That was very abrupt," Wooyoung commented as he stared blankly at the empty corridor behind you. It was, it was. Those five words had completely knocked all the thoughts out of his brain, and suddenly he became very aware of how heavy his arms were from merely hanging from his shoulders. Where should he even place them? Stick them right next to his legs, reach out to hold you (where anyways), or to just leave them be?

Silence.

"Are you not going to say anything else?" Wooyoung asked, unsure of how to continue, or end, this conversation.

"Are you not going to give me a reply?" Oh, right, he hasn't. "I guess we should do what the dean said you should do then. Hang out with me more," Wooyoung said. "And I mean not as friends, by the way."

There comes the kick to his butt. "So do you like me too or what?" Wooyoung let out a sigh of relief, you were back to normal.

"Yes, did you not hear my last sentence?"

"Then say it!"

"Ask for it cutely." Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at you, his arms crossed over his chest. He was already starting to tease you now that he was sure that you had a very soft spot for him.

"Nevermind, I take back my words. I don't like you anymore," you huffed as you walked away, leaving him behind.

"Hey, fine! I like you too! Why are you running away? I'm saying that I like you too!"

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #ateez scenarios #ateez reaction #ateez imagines #ateez writings #ateez #ateez drabbles #ateez blurbs #ateez fics #ateez fluff #wooyoung #wooyoung fluff

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depressedacadamia · 3 years

Text

How do you passive aggresively say fuck you in flower? Part II

Summary: It seems that Nico and Will just cant stop running into each other

A/N: FIRST WEEK OF EXAMS OVER, ONLY ONE WEEK TO GO!! Unfortunately, I am not able to write a lot due to tedious revision but I wrote this part 2 a while ago and thought that today would be the perfect time to release it! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and comment! <3 from me!

Read on AO3 Read Part I on tumblr

They were not expecting to see each other the next day at Uni. In fact, Will was so shocked, he had to pause and squint at the raven haired boy to check that he was the same as the customer 2 days ago. What was this dude doing here? This was the medical college!

Oh shit, what if he’s a new med student or a transfer student?

However, while it seemed that Will had noticed Nico, it seemed that Nico had not noticed Will; he couldn’t have been more appalled as he was ignored and he simply watched in despair as the italian jogged past him without a moment's pause. Not even a Hey, you’re the guy I made out with yesterday, right?

Will was used to having all his past hookups follow him like a sheep and sure, he hadn’t really hooked up with Nico but he was for some reason expecting some sort of reaction from him. Was he that forgettable?

He felt someone dig their elbow into his ribs and was about to shout What the fuck before he realised that Calypso was elbowing him.

“Calypso what!” He winced as he rubbed at his side, still in pain from Calypso’s pointy elbows.

“Do you think I should invite Leo to the dorm party?”

Will’s head perked up. “ Leo? Leo valdez?”

“Yes Leo Valdez, who else?” Calypso sighed.

“I thought you saw him making out with some guy at another party and then proceeded to pretend you never liked him in the first place-”

“- Which is true! I never liked Leo in the first place, he was just a friend!” Calypso desperately defended.

“Everytime someone says they’re just a friend and not they’re just my friend, you know that they’ve crushed on them.”

“Shut up.” Calypso whacked her bag over Will’s head, ignoring his shouts of protests.

Will’s hands instinctively went over his head, tucking his chin in to prevent himself from gaining any brain damage from Calypso. “ Hey, Hey! I work for you, little shit!”

“Exactly, I can fire you any second I want to!” Calypso boasted before remembering something. “ Wasn’t there a request that came in on Saturday? Something like fuck you?”

Will could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. “ Uh, yeah, maybe. I don’t really remember.”

Calypso recognised that tone. That tone was the same tone used during the walk of shame, that tone meant things that she did not want in her shop. Turning her head only halfway, she gave Will a grimace, praying that it hadn’t happened again.

“William Andrew Solace, Please please tell me that you didn’t have sex with another client in my shop!”

“For once,” Will smirked. “ For once, I can actually say that I didn’t.”

Calypso sighed in relief, all the tension in her body simply oozing out all at once. Her shoulders dropped and the tense expression on her face was replaced by her regular small smile that she constantly wore, causing her to seem quite shy, which technically she was.

“You know, you seriously have some nerve Callie, hitting your employees like that. That could be harassment. What happened to the shy girl who could tell me the latin name for any plant out there?”

“Just because I don’t hook up with every good looking breathing thing, does not mean I’m shy.” She put her hands on her hips and took several confident steps while swaying her hips before hitting a hard chest with a thud and feeling the hard floor on her butt. Frustrated, she huffed and without even looking at the perpetrator, began to shout,

“Are you blind or stupid? Look where you’re going for fuck sake.” She ignored the offered hand and got up herself, brushing her scraped hands on her pants.

It was only when Will nudged her, not very discreetly may I add, that she noticed that it was Leo Valdez who was offering the outstretched hand and another very scary looking dude standing by Leo. However, something about him seemed familiar- from the shape of his body to his hair and in particular his jawline. She remembered seeing it somewhere.

Fuck, that was the guy Leo was making out with at that party. She realised.

Simultaneously, Will was thinking- Fuck, that was Nico di Angelo.

“Sorry Leo, Calypso,” Will turned to her, completely avoiding Nico. “ Do you have anything you’d like to say to Leo?”

Claypso gave a bitter look to Will before remebering that Leo fucking Valdez was standing infront of her and she had essentialy told him to fuck off. She had to fight the blush rising to the tip of her ears and could only manage to muster a small pipsqueak of ‘sorry’ while looking down at the floor and having her face curtained by her chestnut hair.

Unexpectedly, she felt a hand move the hair out of her face and slip and finger underneath her chin and tilt it up slightly.

“The least you could do while apologising is look at him,” Nico snarled, standing off to the side, watching as Leo brushed her hair out of the way. Leo turned his head to raise an eyebrow that meant Not cool dude before looking back at Calypso, his eyes warm and his smile generous.

“Sorry about him, he’s running low on social interaction juice. Are you okay there?”

Calypso thought she could feel herself gaping- the worst part was that her little shit of a friend Will pointed it out.

“Close your mouth Callie, you’ll get flies. It’s impolite to stare as well,” Will drawled, his eyes still glued away from Nico. Leo glanced at Calypso’s injured hands, the small scrapes and the little cuts across her palms. His frown was cute, with his eyebrows scrunching up and his eyes pooled with concern as he took her hands in his.

“Oh, Dios mio. I’m so sorry- will you forgive me if I clean these up for you?” Leo held her hands gently, as to not hurt her.

Will butted in before Calypso could respond. “Uh, no, that’s not necessary. I can help her from here!”

Nico snorted. “ Yeah, the med- student definitely knows how to clean up his cuts.”

Will growled in response, unappreciative of Nico’s sarcasm. Leo’s frown in concern only grew, the small displays of guilt visible across his face. “ Are you sure? It’s the least I could do after causing you to fall.”

“No it's fine-”

“-Will, calm down. Yes, I’ll go, but you also owe me,” Calypso confirmed. You know your worth, you know your worth, She chanted in her head.

“Well well, a person who knows what they want, of course, I am in your debt. After you.” Leo pointed to the pavement ahead as he left Will and Nico alone. Nico looked Will up and down before letting out a little snort and walking off, not before giving him a little shove with his shoulder as he walked past.

Will was officially outraged. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? First of all, he was barging into the medical college when he didn’t even attend it, then he was barging him to the floor without even apologising and then laughing about it!

Will turned around while still on the floor and yelled. “Who the fuck do you think you’re pushing dipshit?”

Will really thought he had the upper hand. He was taller, felt he was relatively stronger and his reflexes were okay. But when he saw Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Piper Mclean, Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang and Annabeth Chase all crowd round Nico, he felt he was the most screwed person in the world. Luckily for him, no one except a girl with brown skin and confused expression turned around.

Will recognised her as Piper Mclean- she had been voted most beautiful girl in the entire Uni. It was rumoured for a while that she and Jason were dating but ever since Will spotted Piper blushing near a new girl, he highly doubted it. Piper raised an eyebrow and Will gave a sheepish smile as he tried to get up.

Piper scurried over, giving her friends a quick wave before running over to help Will. He accepted her hand, mainly because he was terrified that she may kill him if he didn’t.

“Did Nico knock you down here?” Piper asked as Will heaved himself up. Her voice was sweet, soft and had some element that convinced Will that he could trust her; however, at the same time, he didn’t want to snitch on Nico. He gave a blatant shrug and hoped for the best.

“Don’t worry, Nico always teases people he likes. Little idiot isn’t good at showing any emotion other than being horny or being an arsehole.”

“Are you sure those are emotions?”

“I take psychology so I sure as hell hope they are,” Piper confessed, laughing a bit. Will finally realised why everybody considered Piper so beautiful- she wasn’t just a pretty person, she was a nice person. She went out of her way to help others.

“I take medicine so I’m going to hope for the best that Nico doesn’t kill me. He avoids like I’m the plague then acts like he’s planning on murdering me in my sleep.”

“Wait.” Piper paused before turning to Will with a manic grin on her face. “Are you the guy from the flower shop who made the fuck you bouquet and slept with Nico?”

“We didn’t sleep together!”

But Piper wasn’t listening, she was calling Hazel over. Will watched as a girl with gorgeous dark skin that glowed in the sunlight and a tattoo over her left hand turned her head ever so slightly. Will realised why they called her Death’s sister.

She was undoubtedly beautiful but her silent aura was terrifying, like it was driving you to death itself. Large brown eyes that invited you into the darkness and hands that looked sculpted for leading one to their doom.

“Hey Hazelnut! This is the guy who stole Nico from Leo! And he made the Fuck you bouquet that Annabeth gave Percy!”

Will could feel his heart pounding as Hazel left the group and walked slowly to Piper and Will, her expression never changing. Suddenly, when she was close enough to throw a punch, she broke out into a childish grin and started squealing.

“So you’re the one who made Percy that bouquet!” Hazel grabbed Will’s hands and started shaking them excitedly. She giggled before giving them back to him.

“What does making Percy this bouquet have to do with any of this? I only knew Nico because we made out like once and then the fucker blanked me.”

“That’s my little brother you're talking about,” Hazel warned. Will instantly felt his eyes widened in horror before apologizing profusely; he remembered what Nico had told him about his sister and how the two of them had grown up. Hazel laughed before telling him that she was only joking and that he should let loose a bit.

“Was Nico with Leo when he ignored you? Leo Valdez? About yee tall, messy brown hair and ink on his overalls?”

“Yes…” Will nodded.

“Ahhh, that explains it. Those two have a complicated history. He was probably ignoring you because he and Leo might have gotten back together. Or maybe he just didn’t want Leo to know that he made out with you. Or…” Piper let out a grin that Will had no desire to learn the true meaning of.

“Maybe he was just using Leo to make you jealous,” Piper explained, very much used to the drama herself between Nico and Leo. If it wasn’t Percy and Annabeth, Nico and Leo were almost always in an argument.

“So…” Will was deadly silent for a second while his rage began to simmer. “ Are you telling me he cheated on that Leo kid with me?”

“ I really hope not,” Hazel grimaced, looking back at her brother.

“The little fucker,” Will muttered under his breath as he pushed past the two ladies and made his way towards the remaining group. He didn’t care that he was going to run into Percy Jackson, whom he’d had an underlying grudge with for as long as he’d been going to school, he was furious.

How dare he cheat with him. What was Will, some slut who ruined relationships? Hell no. Sure, he slept around but he didn’t go around getting into relationships and creating drama. One night stands were his protocol.

“You!” Will pointed at Nico viciously, his finger almost touching Nico’s nose. The rest of the group simply watched with amusement as Piper held back Jason, whispering who exactly Will was.

“You little cheating seething whore! What the fuck dude! You just make out with whoever you buy shit from?”

“I don't remember you having much of a problem with it.” Nico shrugged, only infuriating Will that much more. He was so tempted to just punch him then and there, in front of everybody including 6 of the most intimidating people he’d ever seen.

“I don't remember you mentioning you had a boyfriend before you jumped me,” Will spat. Nico seemed a little shocked at that comment, his lips shaping into a small ‘o’ before he let a sultry smirk spread across his face in a manner that showed he was relatively proud of himself, only pissing Will off so much more.

Why was the damned bastard smirking?

“Huh, what boyfriend?” Nico turned to Annabeth. “ Hey, Annie, do I have a boyfriend?”

Annabeth looked down at her watch for dramatic effect. “As of 4 months, you have been boyfriend free,” She started and only continued when she saw the smug look on Nico’s face. “That said, that does not mean you have been booty call free for said months.”

“What do you mean!” Nico cried.

“Oh shut it Nico, everyone knows that you and Leo have been playing each other’s booty call for ages now. Just end it and go out with the florist dude,” Frank scoffed.

“Or don’t! The florist dude sounds like a real ass!” Percy cut in, desperate to not let Nico go out with his lifelong nemesis, William Andrew Solace.

“Oh look, it’s Perseus,” Will taunted. Percy felt himself going red and the entire group went quiet. Will looked around, wondering why everyone was silent.

“Oh, you guys don’t know?” Will smirked, looking directly at Percy, the knowledge on the tip of his tongue. “ That’s what everybody called Percy in middle school, after we learnt the myth of P-”

The rest of the sentence was muffled as Will felt a hand wrap itself around his mouth. He looked up and saw the sea green eyes that read Shut the fuck up . Will, feeling nostalgia from this certain situation, smirked and stuck his tongue out, licking Percy’s hands, eliciting a yelp of disgust from Percy.

“Dude! Why do you always do that! Every fucking time I’m trying to shut you up, you pull shit like this!”

“You’re telling me that wasn’t the first time you tried to ‘shut him up’?” Nico and Annabeth both asked, hostility floating in their voices. Will gave a jolly smile at Percy who groaned and wiped his hands on Will’s shirt, muttering ‘gross’ under his breath. Will shoved Percy who proceeded to make a face back.

“How do you two know each other?” Frank asked, completely confused before Hazel went up on her tiptoes and began whispering in Frank's ear while he nodded along.

Nico, sick of Will’s attention not being focused on him butted in. “ Did you come all this way to flirt with Percy or what?”

Percy and Will both gagged and shivered, the idea of liking each other being just gross.

“I’m here because you son of a bitch, used me!” Will cried, flinging his arms out.

Nico raised an eyebrow. “I did?”

“Your boyfriend, booty call, whatever you wanna call them- was right there and I was just some pawn for you-”

“-If I wasn’t talking or paying any attention to you whatsoever, how on earth would I make them jealous?”

Will didn’t respond, his mind racking for answers, excuses, insults he could fling at the raven haired boy. He noticed he wasn’t wearing his lip ring that day.

“I think you should focus on the fact that Leo and I just so happened to be at the Medical College despite our majors being nothing related and we just so, by chance, crashed into you and your friend,” Nico hinted. He was a bit tired from how oblivious this blond guy was- hadn’t he made it obvious?

Will took a while to connect a few dots, but the problem was that he only connected the exact dots that Nico did not want him to connect.

“Wait, so Leo does like Callie? Is that why you guys are here?”

Nico wanted to fucking facepalm.

Saturday

The shop bell rang. Calypso was sitting at the counter with her apprentice, Meg. They were both chatting, something to do with the variation of a certain dandelion- Will wasn’t very sure.

He was sporting a daisy chain around his wrist that Meg had forced him to wear and a pink rose had been braided into his hair after much argument with Calypso that the thorns would hurt, in which she retorted that she’d obviously clip the bloody thorns.

When the bell rang, none of the three workers really snapped their heads up. But when the bell rang, and then rang and then rang again, they slowly lifted their heads from their conversation. Will, who had been leaning his elbows on the counter to talk to the two ladies, turned his head to see 8, very unwelcome people, walk into his shop.

Nico was standing there with all 7 of hids friends- Percy, Annabeth, Frank, Hazel, Piper, Jason and Leo. All of whom were very much not welcome in any way whatsoever in this shop.

“What are you doing here?”

The friends all glanced at one another before a few sputters of laughter were spread out. Nico, who was wearing his lip ring again, walked forward and picked up a red rose, twirling the thorny flower in his two fingers, ignoring the small prick it made.

He noticed the blood trickling down his thumb and lifted the injury to his lips.

“Didn’t I tell you last time...” Nico asked, his voice teasing but also malicious, a small corner of his lips stained red. “That you’ll be seeing a lot more of us?”

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miohmy · 3 years

Text

general kuroo/tsukishima headcanons (sfw and nsfw)

I’ve had this rambling draft saved for over a year but for @alfonse I’ll make it public <3

general/sfw HCs for kuroo

His love languages are quality time and physical touch, obviously.

He’s a Scorpio sun, but I imagine his rising sign is Capricorn and moon sign is Gemini >:)

Needs at least 8 hours of sleep each night or he will be grumpy the next morning. He’s a deep sleeper and moves around a lot.

Kuroo may act thick-headed at times, but don’t be fooled, he’s smart, intuitive, and incredibly aware of his surroundings. Moreover, he has a strong memory and never forgets anything. This makes studying for him relatively easy. He tends to do well in school with little effort, especially in the subjects he cares most about (i.e. chemistry and physics). His grades in other classes like history and literature are more on the average side, however.

(this was before Kuroo was a confirmed capitalist) Kuroo would study something in line with these interests at university. I envision him becoming a chemical engineer and doing research in a lab setting (pls take this moment to imagine him in goggles, gloves, and a lab coat).

Kuroo sometimes falls back into his shy habits from time to time. Volleyball has gotten him out of his shell and he’s fine making friends at school, but if he’s in an uncomfortable situation, he tends to be on the quieter side.

Once he decides he likes someone, he really likes them. Kuroo isn’t the type of person to half-ass anything, especially relationships. He either loves you, hates you, or is indifferent.

Kuroo is a naturally good dancer and he knows it. He’s got surprising rhythm and has no shame showing off his skills.

He’s a total lightweight when it comes to drinking. He doesn’t drink often, so whenever he does, the alcohol hits him hard. Generally, he’s a happy, giggly drunk. He’ll start off the night loud and talkative, but eventually the sleepiness will set in and some unlucky soul (usually Kenma) will be tasked with taking him home.

general/sfw HCs for tsukishima

His love languages are quality time and acts of service. Tsukishima is bad when it comes to open communication. Rarely does he say “I love you” to his friends/family. He’d rather let his actions and service speak for themselves.

He’s a Libra sun, but I imagine both his rising sign is Aquarius and moon sign is Virgo.

A light sleeper. Tsukishima averages about 6-5 hours each night.

He is the worst dancer you’ve ever seen and you couldn’t pay him to make a fool of himself in front of other people.

Furious reader. Reads about 70-100 books each year. Prefers reading non-fiction, speculative science fiction, classics, and mysteries.

He’s definitely a night owl, as it’s when he gets his work done. In the mornings he has a hard time waking up and needs 1-2 hours of peace and quiet to prepare himself for the day.

In school, Tsukishima excels at most subjects (because he works hard), but he’s especially passionate about literature and English. I envision him working as a translator or an editor when he’s older (just something in the publishing industry).

The kind of music that Tsukishima listens to ranges. He mainly loves alternative, but he’s also into the weird, experimental stuff too.

He’s more of a casual drinker than Kuroo. He enjoys wine, sake, and certain IPAs. He also knows his limits well and will stop before getting too tipsy. Very rarely will he allow himself to get drunk.

general/sfw relationship HCs (living together edition)

Whenever Tsukishima sings in the shower, Kuroo will stop by the bathroom door to record videos. The first time he did, it was meant to be a joke, but eventually it became a habit. As it turns out, Tsukishima is a great singer.

Because of their differing sleep schedules, many nights encompass Kuroo bothering Tsukishima, not-so-subtly hinting for him to come to bed. Tsukishima will often resist and insist that he needs to finish work. Kuroo is stubborn, however. On more than one occasion he has put his foot down and manually shut Tsuki’s laptop so that he has to come cuddle.

Speaking of cuddling, you would think that Kuroo is the big spoon, but he actually likes to sleep on his stomach. That, combined with the fact that Kuroo moves around a lot, makes cuddling difficult. Sometimes Tsukishima will sleep on his back with Kuroo draped over him like a weighted blanket. Mostly, however, Kuroo will sleep on his stomach, head stuffed between the pillows, with Tsukishima folded beside him, holding on to his shirt.

Kuroo said ‘I love you’ first. Tsukishima then proceeded to freak him out by responding with ‘I’ll get back to you on that’. After two weeks of radio silence, he finally responded with an out-of-context ‘same’. Kuroo never forgave him for that.

On the rare occasions where Tsuki gets drunk, Kuroo takes full advantage of his vulnerability and coaxes embarrassing declarations of love from his inebriated boyfriend (filming them, of course). Lots of “tell me how much you love me” and “who’s the best boyfriend in the world?” The poor defenseless Tsukishima will gush unabashedly, only to wake up the next morning with a massive hangover, tormented by Kuroo as he plays the videos on repeat with full volume.

“Look at how cute you were, Tsuki!”

“Delete that right away or I’ll punch you.”

Kuroo doesn’t know that much about music (in comparison to Tsukishima) so he tends to stick with what’s popular/on the radio. The only time he branches out is when Tsukishima makes a curated playlist for him. Even if he doesn’t love all the songs, he’ll listen through the entire playlist on repeat, just happy to have a gift from his boyfriend.

Despite his confidence and posturing, Kuroo was honestly not that experienced when it came to relationships, dating, or sex before Tsuki. They were both each other’s first time, first love, and cannot imagine dating anyone else.

nfsw HCs

To no one’s surprise, Kuroo is the more kinky one of the pair. There’s a lot of stuff that Kuroo wants to do with Tsuki. Actually getting him to agree to the ideas, however, it another matter entirely.

The kinks that Tsukishima will indulge include: light bondage (blindfolds, hand cuffs), sex toys, mild dom/sub play, hair pulling, shower sex, spanking, and filming.

Kinks that Tsukishima has refused include: public sex, choking, ball gags, and more elaborate role play scenarios.

Tsukishima moans very softly during sex, if at all. Kuroo, on the other hand, can’t seem to shut up. He loves to narrate how Tsukishima looks, tease him, and ask pointed questions (”How does it feel?”, “What do you want me to do?”, etc;). At first, Tsukishima hated this part of him, but it’s gradually grown on him.

Tsukishima and Kuroo are equally clever, confident and domineering people. Therefore, their power dynamic in bed is rather fluid.

Generally, Kuroo likes to be in control and have Tsukishima at his mercy, especially when the latter is acting prideful and condescending. At the same time, Tsukishima is not the type to be submissive to anyone. Sometimes Tsuki will surprise Kuroo by suddenly giving orders, just to spice things up ;)

In terms of praise and degradation, Kuroo enjoys the latter. There’s a reason he fell for Tsukishima, after all. He low-key likes to be called names during sex. Nothing too harsh, of course. He just really enjoys indulging that bitchy, rude side of his boyfriend while simultaneously making a mess of him.

For Tsukishima, the opposite is true. Though he would never admit it to anyone, Tsuki loves to be worshipped by Kuroo. In fact, the quickest way to get him to melt is to be showered with sincere compliments and praise, especially when he’s getting close - nothing will push him over the edge more than being told he’s doing such a good job.

Put frankly, Tsukishima and Kuroo just have a lot of chemistry in bed. The sex is always good and even when their relationship inevitably mellows out from the honeymoon period, they are able to maintain that electric spark that first endeared them to each other.

#otp: moon and cat #my writing #kurootsuki #kurootsukki #kuroo tetsurou #tsukishima kei #kuroo x tsukishima #kuroo x tsukki #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq headcanons

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chipper9906 · 3 years

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Heal The Cracks Within My Heart - Chapter 7: Slip Of The Silver Tongue

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WARNING: SPOILERS FOR LOKI SEASON 1 EPISODE 6 ‘FOR ALL TIME. ALWAYS.’

Pairings: Loki/Sylvie

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 8,223

Overall Word Count: 65,405

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (7/?)

Chapter Preview:

Loki grunts — a terribly well-thought-out argument — taking a moment at the top of the stairs to wait for his vision to stop swimming. “Didn’t I ask you to stop me from pouring any more drinks?” “You did,” Sylvie agrees. “You also then proceeded to tell me that ‘one more drink couldn’t hurt’, called the waitress over for the last of their wine stores, and then nearly stabbed that wannabe knight who started getting grabby with me.”

“He deserved worse,” Loki mumbled darkly, letting Sylvie guide him towards the room she had booked for them. “Not that I had to do anything, of course. By the time I had gotten my daggers out, you had already dented his cranium with your tankard.”

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* * *

This wasn’t the first time Sylvie had seen someone fall victim to shock.

It usually happened when there was a specific sweet spot in the time it takes for an Apocalyptic event to occur. If it happens quickly, then most people don’t have time to actually react to it. That was probably the better option, where they didn’t know what was coming. The slower Apocalypses, like Lamentis or Miiphus, were some of the worst. The people of those Apocalypses were often unable to accept their fate. There was always that little stubborn bit of hope they clung onto, trying everything in their power to change their fate. Of course, they never could change it, because the Apocalypse of their world was written in stone. It had to happen, in accordance with His timeline.

But then there were some in the middle… the ones where the people could see the end coming. They knew there was nothing they could do to stop it, and He Who Remains was cruel enough to give them just enough time where all they could do was stand there and realize this before everything they ever knew and loved was destroyed.

That’s the times she saw people in a state of being… shell-shocked. Not all, of course. Most screamed, most ran, some… showed the crueler side of their nature in the face of the end. But a few people did nothing. She supposed they could be feeling despair in that moment, more than likely some terror, but… they don’t show it on their face. Their expressions are often next to impossible to read, like their mind had just… shut off.

She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that that was what was happening to Loki.

She didn’t like it. Not one bit. Loki wasn’t like this. Loki was sharp and attentive, his razor-sharp wit and equally sharp tongue one of many traits that helped keep him alive. That Loki? He was gone, buried deep somewhere inside this empty shell of a man that weakly clung to her hand, pushing through the snow gathered around their feet like he hadn’t even registered it was there.

Sylvie’s head snaps to the right, to where she heard the sound of pounding hooves barely muted by the thick blanket of snow. She just about gets a glimpse of a band of riders galloping down the path towards them before she jumps behind a tree, dragging Loki with her. Thankfully, he still seems to have some sense of self-preservation left in him, willingly letting her pull him towards her until they were both pressed against each other, flattening themselves against the tree.

Sylvie winces at the rough bark pressing against her back, the thin and flimsy material of the TVA shirt and blazer providing little to no protection. Loki’s breathing is loud and shallow right next to her ear, the two of them pressed so tightly together that she can feel the rise and fall of his chest. The booming sound of the horses gallops slowly fades away as the riders pass them by, and it’s only then that Sylvie changes her clothes with a shrug of her shoulders and a burst of magic, re-materializing her usual clothing and ridding herself of a uniform she hopes she never has to wear again.

“Where… where are we?” Loki asks, and Sylvie had never been so glad to hear his voice. He slowly pushes away from her, scanning their surroundings with wide eyes like he couldn’t figure out how they had got here.

“Earth,” Sylvie brings his attention back to her, not bothering to hide the worry on her face.

“Those riders…” Loki looks to where the riders had disappeared between the thick thatches of trees, white puffs of condensation materializing from his mouth as he spoke. “Last I remember of my time on Earth, not many people carried swords... What year did you take us to?”

“Eighth century,” answered Sylvie, giving Loki’s hand a gentle squeeze to bring his attention back to her when he continued to stare out into the distance. “I know a place that's not too far. Are you… are you okay to walk?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Loki shoots Sylvie a strained smile that knocks away some of the reassurance she felt that he was starting to come back to himself, wishing that far-away look in his eyes would be gone. Loki weakly gestures with a wave of his hand in the direction they had been walking in. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Not once during their trek does Sylvie let go of his hand. Sometimes it felt like the only thing anchoring Loki to reality was her, and that if she let go, he would simply cease to exist.

Loki doesn’t hound her with his usual questions or provide insightful commentary on their surroundings. She… missed it, actually. Not just because their absence further proves that something with Loki isn’t quite right, but also because… to put it bluntly, she missed him. She missed hearing his voice, and missed feeling annoyed at hearing his voice.

...What was she talking about? She was thinking like Loki was dead, with his hand wrapped around hers, and his stumbling footsteps just behind her. He was still there, she knew that, he just… needed some time, is all. It wasn’t like he was going to quickly bounce back from…

Gods, had that really happened? Mobius was… he was…

Why did this hurt? Mobius was a man who had chased her across branches, hunting her down like it was for sport. She had only known him briefly, and this Mobius wasn’t even the one they knew. And yet… his death left an oddly hollow feeling in her chest that she knows must be immense and suffocating inside of Loki’s.

That was why, she supposed. It just seemed to be the way it worked with them. Mobius’s death was clearly wreaking havoc on Loki’s emotions, overwhelming him with levels of guilt and pain that he was struggling to handle. Loki was hurting, and just from that, she was hurting too. Loki was mourning the loss of his friend, and so she was mourning, too.

But she couldn’t let herself fall into it like Loki was. If she’s the only one of them that can tread on the surface of despair Loki was sinking into and keep the both of them afloat? Then that’s just what she’ll have to do.

The sight of the little building nestled within the forest brings with it a much-needed air of relief. The columns of smoke billowing from the inn’s chimney gave promises of alluring warmth and shelter from the cold — not that it bothered them all that much — and more importantly, the drunken patrons stumbling out of the front door that struggled to climb atop their horses gave promises of a much-needed drink.

“Hang on.” Sylvie comes to a stop, holding out a hand to stop Loki from walking any further forward. There was still enough distance and cover provided by the forest that no one would be able to spot them just yet. “It’s probably best that you change out of your clothes, too. We’re probably going to get a decent amount of stares with me wearing armor. I can’t imagine these people will react too well to seeing someone in an office get up.”

“Right…” Loki nods his head, peering at the handful of people of this time that stood around the entrance to the Inn, friendly smiles on their faces as they conversed whilst simultaneously keeping one hand placed atop the hilt of their swords. His eyes scan meticulously over their clothing, taking note of every small detail he can see that may be of use.

Loki moves closer towards the cover of a nearby tree, blocking out most of the light from his magic as he changes his wardrobe. What he wore was quite similar to his usual Asgardian armor, being mostly comprised of leather as most other pieces of armor from this time period on Earth seemed to be. Thankfully, the dark colors of his clothing seemed to be a common theme amongst others he had seen so far, so it wasn’t like they would have to worry over this Earth’s people scrutinizing their coloring choice.

Sylvie raised an eyebrow at the addition of some sort of fur wrap that ran along the collar and flowed down his back like… well, like a cape, it looked like. The fur was as dark in color, as was the rest of his outfit, the muted light from the cloud-covered sun barely able to show whether it was a very dark brown, or was simply black.

“People might look at us strangely if we’re walking around in freezing temperatures without a coat,” Loki says when he catches sight of her questioning look.

Sylvie had to admit that he had a point there. Before she can say anything or do anything in response, Loki had manifested a similar fur-lined coat in his hands. Sylvie raises a hand up, intending to take it from him, but of course Loki instead chooses to reach across her and drape it around her shoulders. He tucks the lapels of the coat together, waiting for Sylvie to reach out and grab hold of the lapels to keep it tightly wrapped around herself before letting go.

“There -- now we match,” Loki says with a soft smile that struggles to reach his eyes. “Also should help to reduce some of the stares at seeing a woman in armor…”

Loki and Sylvie continue towards the beckoning light spilling out from the Inn, the layer of snow under their feet steadily shifting to well-worn paths of mud and compacted snow. Only once do Loki’s feet nearly slide out from under him, but it takes everything in Sylvie not to crackup into laughter as she catches his arm to steady him.

The group of people milling about the door don’t even bat an eyelid at them as they squeeze by, evidently too invested in whatever conversations they were having to pay attention to the passing strangers. Even as Frost Giants, the blast of warmth that hits them as they push open the heavy wooden door is nothing less than a blessing. They both kick away the stubborn bits of mud and snow that clung to their boots, thankful to see only a few curious pub-goers had turned to see the newcomers. They apparently decided they weren’t of much interest, turning their attention back to their company and whatever alcoholic beverage was contained within the mugs in their hands.

Sylvie catches sight of a small table that is blessedly empty, tucked away within the corner of the room and away from the line of sight of eyes that might be a little too curious. Loki trails behind as Sylvie leads them to it, waiting for her to slide into place on one of the rickety-looking wooden benches before taking a seat for himself opposite.

The Inn was lit only by the fireplace that sat within the middle of the back wall, which also provided the old building with the much-needed heat against the bitter cold of the winter they had stepped into. Usually, Loki would be doing the same as Sylvie is right now: taking note of every exit, every potentially unsavory individual; preparing for the possibility of things going south, and figuring out whether running or fighting would be the best option depending on what went down.

But right now… he was tired. Drained. A part of him wanted to… to slip back into that uncaring facade. It had been his best line of defense, and now, the mask no longer seemed to fit.

“Be back in a minute,” Sylvie tells him in passing as she springs up from the table. She squeezes his shoulder as she passes, which he’s nearly unable to feel through the thick layer of fur that covered it.

She comes back moments later with two shoddily crafted metal cups in hand, one being more like a goblet in shape, and the other more like a tankard of some sort. She places the silver goblet on the table in front of him, before dropping back down onto the bench and claiming the tankard for herself.

“Kinda just guessed you’d want wine,” Sylvie tells him as he pulls the goblet towards him and peers down into its contents. “I’d ask for something stronger, but uh… we’re sort of limited to a few options here.”

“How did you pay for these?” Loki asks, the first genuine hint of amusement she’s heard from him laced into his question.

Sylvie wiggles her eyebrows at him in response, whilst also raising her hand into the air and wiggling her fingers with a burst of lime-green light. It manages to pull the tiniest of smiles from Loki, looking down to his drink with a huffed breath of laughter.

“Probably should have guessed that, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably,” Sylvie agrees with a smile, raising the tankard to her lips and taking a sip of the dark ale within.

Loki mirrors her actions, although where she had taken a single sip, his ‘sip’ didn’t stop until every last drop was sucked down. Sylvie was a little impressed as she watched him chuck his head back and down the entire thing in what seemed like one swallow, but mostly… she was just worried.

“Did... did you even taste that?”

The goblet clangs loudly as Loki returns it to the table, chuckling low, deep, and slow in a way that, if it had been anyone else, probably would have made her skin crawl. “I’m not exactly drinking it for the taste.”

'Fair point,' Sylvie thought. Not one to be outdone (and because, quite frankly, she needed it), Sylvie brought her metal tankard up to her mouth, draining the entire mug in only a few swallows. Loki shot her an equally impressed look once she dropped the tankard back down to the table, which she returned with a shrug of her shoulders.

“You know, sometimes I’m jealous of the humans,” Loki says almost a little too loudly. He raises the now empty goblet in his hands up in the air, cocking his head to the side as he inspects the blacksmith’s handiwork. “Their bodies are weaker than ours… and so it’s so much easier for them to get drunk… and for longer.”

“Well, the drinks on Lamentis certainly seemed to be effective on you.” Sylvie slides the goblet out of his hands, catching the eye of a nearby waitress and summoning her over with a curl of her finger. “I would say that I’m starting to feel you have a drinking problem but…” Sylvie trails off for a moment, her mouth softly closing with a sympathetic grimace. “But… I think I need a drink about as much as you do.”

Right on cue, the waitress appears by their table, carrying two large jugs of the drinks they had previously offered. She puts one down on the table, preparing to pour the other into Loki’s goblet first to top it up, but Loki places his hand over the top of the goblet to stop her.

“You might be better off leaving them both here,” Loki not so non-nonchalantly suggests to her with a charming smile. “Would probably save you the trips back and forth to our table.”

“I’m not sure that’s—” The woman starts to say, and it’s enough for Loki to realize it was another way of saying ‘no.’ He moves his hand from his goblet to the woman’s hand atop the handle of the jug, his smile not once wavering. No one, apart from him and Sylvie, see the green glow emitting from underneath his hands.

“I’m just trying to make your job easier for you.”

“Yes… yes, you’re right,” The waitress agrees, looking a little dazed as she slides her hands away from Loki and the jugs. “Let me know if you need any more, and I’ll bring them right over.”

“Lovely, thank you.” The smile on Loki’s face only drops away once the waitress has turned her back to them, and it’s a harsh reminder to them both of just how good of an actor he is.

How good of a liar he is.

"You're getting better," Sylvie notes once the waitress is out of earshot. "Won't be long before enchantment feels like second nature."

“Like you said — easier on those with simple minds. For a change of subject—" Loki picks up the jug of dark ale first, refilling Sylvie’s tankard for her before she can even ask — or say that she even wanted another one. She takes the cup once he offers it to her anyway, settling back against the uncomfortably hard wooden panels behind her. Loki doesn’t continue the rest of his sentence before he's poured himself another drink, hunched over the table as he holds onto his goblet of wine like it was a lifeline. “—What brings the end to this picturesque little location? Seems a little… small, to be classed as an Apocalypse.”

“There’s a village a few miles to the West from here.” Sylvie gestures with a flick of her head in the direction of the village. “Not a particularly large population, but… large by the standards of this time period.”

“Ah… so what brings about their end?” Loki asks like they were discussing the weather, perhaps the most emotionless smile on his face that she’s seen from him as he takes another long drink from his goblet.

Sylvie doesn’t answer his question. Loki raises his brows when she just stares at him instead of speaking, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she leans forward against the table. “Loki… I know what you’re doing.”

Loki’s eyebrows somehow raise even higher, shooting Sylvie a bemused frown. “What… I’m doing?”

“I saw you on Miiphus. You can’t pretend like seeing all these worlds coming to an end doesn’t bother you. And now, you’re… you’re trying to pretend like you don’t care.”

“Because I don’t—”

“You do, though,” Sylvie cuts off another lie. “And I know you do, because I do. Even after all these years, even when I think I’m desensitized to it… I still care. I care that all these apocalypses happen because He decided they do. So don’t give me that. Don’t give me this… this regressed form of yourself. You know as well as I do that you’re pretending you don’t care so that it’s easier to talk about -- because you’re looking for a distraction.”

Something on Loki’s face shifts. A slip, a give to the illusion. Sylvie didn’t say what it was that he was trying to distract himself from, but it’s not like she needs to. She pushes her tankard to the side, reaching out for Loki like it was second nature. His jaw shifts by just the slightest as her hand rests atop of his, his eyes never once leaving hers.

“If you want to talk to me… just talk to me,” Sylvie offers earnestly. “And if you can’t talk to me about… about that… then you don’t have to. I’m more than happy to act as a distraction if you want me to, just… don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. And hey -- I booked us a room upstairs in case all you want to do is drink until you pass out, and I’ll haul your drunken arse up the stairs.”

For the first time since they’ve gotten here, the half-a-smile that pulls at Loki’s lips is one she knows comes from her Loki.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, soft and quiet, and the illusion is broken. “It’s just… easier that way… Not to think about it.”

“Believe me, I know.” Sylvie lifts her hand from Loki’s, wrapping it back around her tankard and taking a sip. “And that’s something I’m working on, too. I… I want to open up to you more, even when everything inside me is screaming at me not to. So… I understand if… if you can’t talk about it.”

Loki closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He opens them back up again, glancing over to the nearly full jug of wine next to him, feeling very grateful for its presence. “First… you answer my previous question, about what happens here.”

“Snowstorm,” Sylvie answers, keeping her voice low as she turns her gaze towards the frost-covered windows of the Inn. “Still a few days out -- but then again, since we don’t know what timeline this is, it could be sooner… or later… or not at all.”

“At least we don’t have to worry about this one,” Loki points out, one of the only times he’s thankful for his true heritage. “Were they… not prepared for it?”

“Not really something they can predict. They prepare for winter, sure, but this…? It’s just… too much for them to handle. This apocalypse, it’s…” Sylvie shivers, not from the cold but more of a sympathetic reaction. “It’s… slow. The ones that freeze to death are the lucky ones. Others… fight a losing battle. Food runs out pretty quickly, and once their storages are gone… the fighting starts. No one makes it through to the spring.”

Loki hums sadly, dropping his gaze down to his goblet as he taps his fingers along its surface. “Did you see that often…?”

“What -- people panicking in the face of death?” Sylvie’s voice is twinged with amusement, amazed that Loki would ask a question with such an obvious answer.

“No, that’s a given,” Loki dismisses with a wave of his hand. “More… people being reduced to their animalistic tendencies. Civilizations that took centuries to develop, reduced to bare instincts in such little time.”

Sylvie sighs heavily through her nose, taking another drink of ale before she answers. “It’s… it’s not easy to predict how we’d react in the face of death. Having been there to watch it unfold countless times… I sometimes wondered what I would do in their place. There were many times where that was almost the case. There was never a guarantee I’d make it through to the next apocalypse. Never a guarantee that the TVA wouldn’t figure out my hiding spaces before I could make my move.”

Loki drops his gaze, shoulders hunched over as the guilt forces his eyes away from hers. Like usual, Sylvie seemed to be able to read his mind, reaching out a hand to wrap around his wrist. “I know I like to tease you about it sometimes, but I don’t blame you. I know you were doing what you needed to do to survive, same as I was. And at the end of it all… you were there with me.”

“Sometimes wish it could have played out differently,” Loki mumbles, head still bowed towards his goblet of wine. “That we could have met under better circumstances.”

“How?” Sylvie asks with a chuckle. “Not many people get to meet a variant of themselves unless under very particular TVA-related circumstances -- and that’s in the off-chance they do something wrong.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Loki finally lifts his gaze back up, even if it’s only to pull the jug of wine closer and refill his goblet. He turns his attention back to Sylvie, a lazy smile stretching across his face as he lifts his goblet into the air. “And now here we are: having massively cocked up the timeline by doing what we thought was right, leading to us hunting down infinite amounts of the same dangerous, potentially — more than likely — genocidal man, who may or may not be aware of our presence, and is hunting us down in return.”

Sylvie returns his smile with one of her own, lifting up her own tankard and clinking it against Loki’s. “I’m leaning more towards the ‘may be aware’ than ‘may not’ side of him hunting us down.”

Loki agrees with a mixture of a hum and a groan as he drains yet another cup of wine, wiping away any remnants that clung to his upper lip as he lowers the cup from his mouth. “Could always use a challenge.”

“And what -- trying to kill every version of one man isn’t enough of a challenge for you?”

Loki shrugs. “Sounds like an average day to me.”

Sylvie chuckles lightly, shaking her head at him. “Keep up that confidence, and we’ll be done with this whole mess in no time.”

“And then we’ll be right back to where we were,” Loki says, the easy-going smile on his face slipping slightly. “With either one of us knowing what to do next…”

“One step at a time,” Sylvie utters softly, ducking her head to catch Loki’s eye. “It’s difficult to focus on what’s next when what’s ahead is as big as it is.”

Loki nods at her answer, dragging his goblet across the table to take another drink. Sylvie reaches out a hand to stop him before he can lift it, forcing his eyes up to meet hers.

“But… I’d like to accept your offer, from before.”

That rouses Loki’s interest, the dreary fog that had been hanging over his head since they arrived lifting by just the slightest as his curiosity wins over. “My offer…?”

“Back in the Void, you asked me what I was going to do next.” Sylvie lowers her hand from the goblet onto Loki’s, his fingers tightening instinctively around the stem of the goblet. “I said I didn’t know.”

Loki knew all of this, of course. This very conversation, everything he had said, everything she had answered with, had been seared into his memory. But, in what was an unusual move for him, he chose to remain silent, letting Sylvie speak.

“You asked, if…” Sylvie pauses for just a moment, darting out the tip of her tongue to wet her lips — more of a nervous gesture than anything. “…If maybe we could figure that out together.”

Loki swallows harshly — his own nervous gesture — remaining remarkably patient and quiet as he waits for Sylvie to continue.

“And I answered with ‘maybe,’” Sylvie continues, looking as lost to the memory of that day as he was. “If the offer still stands… I’d like to change my answer to yes.”

Loki laughs which, in most cases, isn’t the most ideal of responses to such a statement. But even through the nerves that Sylvie doesn’t know how to handle does she hear the clear relief in his laughter, the warm smile on his face helping to squash down those nerves better than any spoken words ever could.

“The offer still, as it always will do, stands.”

…But then again, she supposed those words helped, too.

* * *

A few hours later, with no TVA in sight, no snowstorm in sight, and too many drinks for them to count, it was fair enough to say that they were tip-toeing the line between ‘pleasantly tipsy’ and… downright hammered.

“I thought you were the one that was supposed to be dragging me up the stairs.” Loki’s words come out a little more slurred than they sounded in his head, the both of them hanging onto each other for support as they climb the old wooden stairs that looked a lot more slanted than they did earlier. In fact, they seemed to be doing a remarkable job of disobeying the laws of physics and jumping away from where he intended to place his foot.

“Says the guy leaning half of his weight on me,” Sylvie huffs, her free hand pressed against the wall for support. And… to stop them from tumbling down the stairs.

“You did,” Sylvie agrees. “You also then proceeded to tell me that ‘one more drink couldn’t hurt’, called the waitress over for the last of their wine stores, and then nearly stabbed that wannabe knight who started getting grabby with me.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Sylvie replies, which Loki doesn’t like the sound of at all. “Remember those ‘animalistic natures’ you talked about earlier? Well, let’s just say I’ve gotten used to dealing with people like that whilst on the run.”

Sylvie just barely manages to shove the steel key into the door’s lock, the scratch marks etched into the area of the handle around the hole itself indicating that most other drunk patrons of this Inn had dealt with the same problem. She all but leans her entire weight against the heavy door to push it open, nearly stumbling into the room and dragging Loki with her when the door finally gives way.

“Ah -- what a sight for sore eyes!” Loki crows in delight as he lays eyes on the king-sized bed pushed against the wall to the left of the doorway. The bed faced yet another fireplace — being the only room in the Inn for hire that included a fireplace, situated atop the fireplace downstairs in the pub and sharing its chimney. Renting such a room would usually cost a pretty penny… but having access to magic beyond most’s understanding made it much easier to get the five-finger discount.

“You know, I genuinely can’t remember the last time I slept in a bed,” Loki comments as he teeters towards the fireplace. He gracefully —by which he means he just let’s gravity do most of the work — drops down onto his knees in front of the fireplace, using a burst of his magic to turn the pile of freshly cut logs and tinder within into a roaring fire within seconds. “I’m guessing the same could be said for you?”

“Depends what you classify as a bed.” Sylvie finishes up locking the door to the room, tucking the key into her pocket as she turns towards the room. “Most times, I was lucky to be lying on something even somewhat soft. Other times… well, let’s just say that sleep was often a luxury I couldn’t afford.”

Loki grimaces as he pushes himself up until he was standing, walking over to the bed and collapsing down onto it with an exhausted sounding huff, letting his hands rest atop his stomach as his back hits the — mostly — clean sheets underneath him.

“Suppose I shouldn’t expect much craftsmanship from Earth’s eighty century,” Loki comments on the state of the bed. Sylvie walks over to the bed, entering Loki’s frame of vision as she stands over him.

“At least I have a nice view, though.” He accompanies the comment with a sly smile, which gets him a roll of the eyes and a less than vicious kick to his leg hanging off the edge of the bed in response.

“Come on, budge up,” Sylvie indicates to where he was situated directly in the middle of the bed, motioning for him to move with a flick of her wrist.

Loki grunts with the little effort it takes to move himself over to one side of the bed. He closes his eyes against the comforting yet too bright light of the fire, feeling the dip of the bed as Sylvie takes a seat on the edge of it.

“Hey,” she tries to get his attention, tapping at his thigh until he creaks an eye open to look at her. “You do still have the TemPad, right?”

Loki answers by digging into his oversized coat pocket, pulling out the TemPad and holding it out in the air for her to take. She takes it from his hands, running a thumb along the smoothed marble edge, watching as it lights up at her touch.

“I think it likes you more than me,” Loki mumbled from beside her.

“Mmm… not sure it has the capability to pick favorites.”

“If it’s smart enough to recognize us as its owners, then it might be able to differentiate between us and have a preference to which of us is wielding it.”

“Well… I have used it more than you,” Sylvie points out, and on cue, the surface of the TemPad lights up, as if it were agreeing with her words.

Loki pushes himself up from the bed, matching Sylvie as he sits at the edge of the bed. He runs a tired hand over equally tired eyes, glancing down to the TemPad in her hands. “Why’d you use Mo -- the other TemPad, instead of that one?”

If Sylvie noticed him tripping over his words, she didn’t mention it. “We said it’d be best to grab a backup, didn’t we? And… you seemed a little, uh… shaken at the time, to get the TemPad back off you.”

“Right…” Loki drops his gaze down to his lap, seemingly shrinking in on himself.

“Loki… I’m so sorry,” Sylvie says gently, trying to find the best way to approach the subject they had both seemingly been avoiding. “I know that Mobius, he was… he was a good friend.”

“No, not a good friend.” Loki shakes his head, glancing up at her. “He was… my only friend.”

The pain on his face briefly gives way to one of panic, quickly attempting to backtrack on what he had just said. “Oh, uh, that’s not to say that you’re not my friend, it’s just that -- I’ve always seen as you as something different than—”

Sylvie smiles at his awkward and bumbling words, reaching out to place her hand on his upper arm. “I know. I get what you’re trying to say.”

Loki relaxes at that, sighing quietly to himself in relief. “If it hadn’t been for Mobius, I would have been reset moments after my so-called ‘trial.’ He… broke me down and pulled me apart, forcing me to realize truths about myself that I had always tried to run from. Meeting him, just like meeting you, it… it changed me. Or… or more so it made me realize that I was capable of changing myself.”

Sylvie’s hand moves up and down his arm in soothing motions, the comforting touch forcing his eyes shut. “He’s still out there, Loki. We’ll find him again.”

“How am I supposed to face him again?” Loki asks desperately. “How can I look him in the eye, knowing what I’ve done to him?”

“You need to stop seeing that variant as him. Just like me and you, that Mobius and the one we know are nearly different people entirely. Different choices made, different lives lived. Who we are -- who we become -- is more than just what we are at birth. That Mobius made the choice to pick up the Pruning Stick. That Mobius made the choice to threaten us, not the Mobius you know. You didn’t kill Mobius; you killed a man that was holding a weapon to my neck, and I… I can’t even begin to thank you for that.”

Loki shoots her an incredulous look. “You can’t have really thought I would have let him…?”

“I thought it might have been a possibility.” Sylvie shrugs her shoulders, Loki’s baffled expression only growing stronger at her response.

“Mobius is… he’s the only — and the greatest — friend I’ve ever had,” Loki begins, placing a hand over hers on his shoulder. “But you? You’re…”

Loki wasn’t even sure he had a word to describe what Sylvie was to him. None that he knew quite seemed to fit, didn’t quite match the way he felt when he thought about her. She was… himself, both the good parts and the bad parts. She was… she was him, and yet she wasn’t. She was… a force of nature that came crashing into his life as much as he had been chasing it, stirring up trouble and chaos wherever she went, and yet, left behind the seeds of new life, of new beginnings once the destruction had cleared.

She was… the driving force that made him want to be someone different. She was the only person he wanted by his side as they took on this seemingly impossible task.

She was…

“...My Glorious Purpose.”

There was a split second where Loki wondered if perhaps those words weren’t the best to use. Sure, he had mentioned his ‘Glorious Purpose’ before, and since the future version of himself had brought it up, he… kind of just assumed that the idea of a ‘Glorious Purpose’ was something that was sort of built into every Loki. Now though, when he thought about it from an outside perspective, the use of ‘my’ seemed to suggest a claim of ownership over Sylvie, which was certainly not the impression he wanted to give off.

He stops worrying about it when the concerned frown on her face slowly softens, changing to one of disbelief at his statement. He can’t help but give her a small smile at the sight of her shock, looking back down to his lap with that half-turned smile slipping away.

“I’m not too sure when it changed,” he admits to her. “I suppose that… most other versions of my ‘Glorious Purpose’ always involved me ruling over… something. Asgard… Midgard… The Nine Realms; then, when I discovered the power they held, The TVA. Same goal, just… different circumstances. And you know what the strange thing is?”

Sylvie was still a bit too dumbstruck from Loki’s previous admission, only able to stare avidly at him as he speaks.

“I didn’t even want them. Not really,” Loki says, and then he laughs, the reality of his entire life now just seeming so incredibly absurd as he says it out loud.

What had his obsession over ruling truly been about? Did he think it would guide him towards happiness? Would he felt like he had achieved something he had earned through blood, sweat, and tears? That he took what should have been his, not something he had to take?

No… no, it wasn’t any of that. It was…

It was from feeling out of place.

He always had, right from the beginning. Always this feeling of… something not right. He had been the, quite literal, black sheep in the family. Watching his father sat atop the throne, witnessing the grandeur that came with his father’s title, hearing of the stories that led to his place on the throne… and then seeing the way his brother was co closely following in the footsteps of their father.

Thor was the oldest. He might have been a prince, just as Thor was, but he always knew that Thor was the one who would step up to the throne when the time came. He was… a backup, it sometimes felt like. The only time he truly felt wanted, and like he was right where he was meant to be, was whenever he was learning magic, paying rapt attention to his mother as she showed him all she knew.

Then, to find out who he truly was… What little claim he had to the title, what little claim he had to being an Asgardian, of being Son of Odin and Frigga was… gone. He was nothing more than a little ice runt, saved from abandonment to act as a token of peace in the hopes of ending both his father’s wars.

What if he had known? What if, like Sylvie, he had been told of who he really was? Would events still transpire as they had? Would Sylvie had done the same as him, if she had never been taken from her timeline? It seemed unlikely. For one, she seemed — at least on the outside — remarkably unphased about being adopted when he had brought it up back on Lamentis. And for another... she had spent her entire life running away from an organization that ruled over everything that has existed, or ever will exist; it wasn’t all too surprising that the thought of ruling over anything didn’t really appeal to her.

And that was what it boiled down to. Him, desperately trying to grab hold of power in a bid for control, to prove to others and to himself that he deserved to be something -- someone -- other than a pawn in his father’s wars. And Sylvie… she had run, stolen, and killed her way through universe after universe, all to send a message to the TVA that she was more than just a pawn in their game that had made her own move, not theirs.

They both felt the need to prove that they belonged. Just... In different ways.

“How…” Sylvie tries to start speaking, clearing her throat with a shake of her head. “How am I your Glorious Purpose? Why am I…?”

“Not really something I can control,” Loki gestures to himself with a strained smile. “One moment, all I care about is finding my way back to the TVA, getting in front of the Time Keepers, and taking their place on the throne. Then… there you were. You were… persistent, and determined, and… me, yet… not. You were trying to destroy the TVA — the very thing I was trying to rule — and… I only had to know you for a day for everything to change. For me to change. I didn’t care about having a throne. I didn’t care about being in control. For once, I felt like I truly belonged — and that was whenever I was with you. I knew that… I could let myself be happy, so long as you’re happy.”

Sylvie has to look away from the intensity of his gaze, trying to wrap her head around everything he had just said. “I, um… I’m starting to think this is the wine talking.”

Loki chuckled lazily at that, dropping gracefully back down to the bed. “Hmm… wine does usually make me talk a lot.”

“You always talk a lot.”

“More so than usual,” Loki grumbles. “My point still stands; just because it’s the wine talking doesn’t mean it isn’t the truth.”

Sylvie glances back to him over her shoulder, drinking in the peaceful look on his face as he lies there with his eyes closed, looking about ready to drop off. She sighs quietly, looking back to the TemPad in her hands with a thoughtful frown.

“I wish I knew how to tell you the way I feel for you,” she admits to the quiet of the room. Loki’s eyes pop open, looking up to her in surprise.

“It seems like you’re better at all this than I am,” Sylvie continues, shuffling around on the bed so she could face him better. “Feels like… I have some catching up to do.”

“We both do,” Loki reassures her, pushing himself up onto his arms. “But that’s okay. We’ll figure things out at our own pace.”

“But what if I…” Sylvie trails off, face twisting in frustration. “…What if I never get there?”

“You will—”

“But you don’t know that,” Sylvie stresses, cutting him off. “And it’s... it’s not fair to you, for me to be stuck the way I am…”

“Sylvie, a few days before I met you, I was using a device to carve out and copy the information of a man’s eye.” Sylvie reels back slightly at this tidbit of information, but —thankfully— doesn’t ask about it any further. “And, you know… a friend once told me I could be whoever, or whatever, I wanted to be. We are capable of change, Sylvie -- especially when it’s a change we’re striving to achieve. And if you never get there?” Loki shrugs his shoulders. “That’s okay, too. I know you’ll find your own way to express how you feel.”

Sylvie shakes her head at the assurance in his voice. She wasn’t sure what it was she had done that had made Loki so… devoted to her. “Sometimes I’ll look at you, and I’ll think of something, and… and I just can’t say those thoughts out loud. And I should. If I can think them, why can’t I say them?”

“Sylvie… there’s a hell of a difference between thinking something, and acting on it. The way that I feel for you, it’s… it’s not easy for me to admit, either. It doesn’t feel all that long ago that I mocked people for being in love. And now, in their shoes, I know it’s more complicated then—”

Loki stopped himself when he caught sight of the wide-eyed look on Sylvie’s face, his mouth frozen partway open in mid-sentence. Loki might not have picked up on the significance of what he had just said out loud, but for Sylvie, those few words were echoing around in her head. It was almost funny that, seconds after saying he too struggled to admit how he feels, he had just dropped the biggest admission possible on her without even realizing it.

“What did you just say?” Sylvie whispers, eyes still wide as saucers.

Loki frowned, ready to ask which part of what he had just said, when the realization clobbers him around the head. He… he had never said that out loud, had he? But… but she knew, didn’t she? She had to — especially after sharing their emotions with each other as they delved into their memories, re-watching their moment on Lamentis through the power of enchantment.

“Ah…” Loki got out, trying not to let the panic take over. “That… that probably wasn’t the best time to say that, was it?”

Sylvie’s continuous silence and lack of a reaction other than just staring at him wasn’t doing much to calm his nerves. “Okay, I know I said it’s fine if you can’t express how you feel, but I’d really appreciate it if you said something right about now.”

“Did you mean it?” Sylvie asks, the vulnerability in her voice giving Loki pause. “Are you… are you really…?”

“In love with you?” Loki fills in the words Sylvie couldn’t seem to get out. Sylvie sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth at the words, slowly nodding her head. A small smile flickers at the corner of Loki’s lips, looking away sheepishly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Loki glances up at her from his ducked gaze, watching as she takes this in. She teeters back on the bed, eyes darting around the room in what Loki hoped was closer to something like shock than just downright panic.

“Please, don’t -- don’t freak out.” Loki wanted to reach out to her, but wasn’t sure how well-received his touch would be right now. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you—”

“Say it again.”

Loki blinked at her in surprise, the response not what he was expecting. “I… excuse me?”

“Say it again,” Sylvie repeats firmly, looking him straight in the eye.

Loki schools his confused expression, meeting her searching gaze as he repeats the one thing he never thought he’d get to say. “I’m in love with you.”

Sylvie’s eyes narrow for a moment, her eyes scanning across his face for some kind of tell that he was lying — some form of manipulation, one which would be the cruelest kind. “Again,” She repeats, unable to keep the shakiness out of her voice.

“I’m in love with you.” It was almost scary how easy it was coming to him, now. It was like stating the weather, or what he had eaten for dinner. Just… a matter of fact. An absolute truth — and he was finding he enjoyed saying it as much as he enjoyed knowing she had now heard those words fall from his lips.

Loki wasn’t sure what about him saying it for the third time made Sylvie believe it, but she seemed to find whatever it was she was looking for from him. Sylvie rushes towards him, grabbing hold of the lapels of his coat and pulling him towards her until their lips met. It was already much too warm in the room from the heat radiating from the fireplace, so Loki was all too eager to assist Sylvie as she begins yanking his coat off.

They break apart for the briefest of moments to pull his arms out from the sleeves of the coat, balling it up and throwing it carelessly to the side, nearly setting it alight as it lands near the fire. Loki happily follows the directions of her push, falling back onto the bed and savoring the feeling of her body pressed against his as her weight falls onto him.

“You’re right -- I can find another way to express the way I feel,” Sylvie pants a few tantalizing inches from his mouth. It takes all of Loki’s focus to listen to what she’s saying and not just surge up and reclaim her lips like his body was screaming at him to do. “And I’ve always been more a woman of actions than words, anyway.”

Next Chapter - - - >

#sylki #sylki fanfiction #sylki fanfic #pro sylki #loki/sylvie #lovedagger #enchantricks

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charlie-boio · 4 years

Text

The Only One For Me: Part Two

Summary: Everyone gets assigned a magical allegiance once they turn 16: Healers, Electrics, Shifters, and Darks, who were more often referred to as Voids. Once you reach 25, you no longer age until you meet soulmate.

After being outcasted by the world so long ago, Stiles Stilinski gave up on ever subjecting his soulmate to being with a Dark and decided that if the world would only ever treat him like it, he’ll be exactly what they wanted him to be: Void

Word Count: 10,098

A/N: My dudes I cannot BELIEVE I thought this ENTIRE story would be a 5k word fic lmao in total its over 16,000 words!! Also I know I said Wednesday but better late than never. Some of you wanted to be tagged which I’m so happy that you enjoyed the first part so much to be tagged in part two. This is the final part so I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I did. I do have new stuff coming soon! Anyways, I’m super proud of this so I hope you enjoy it too!!

**WARNINGS: NFSW! Self-harm, mentions of suicide, angst. On the smut side there’s fingering, oral (female receiving, mentions of male receiving), multiple orgasms (first detailed smut lmao).

The house shook after the door slammed shut. You laid there slumped on the ground, with a dumbfounded look on your face.

What the fuck just happened? We’re soulmates, we’re supposed to love each other…right?

You knew the stories of people who had met their soulmate then immediately were separated from them or if they couldn’t satisfy the sexual drive that heightens significantly after meeting. A lull falls over the both of you that could easily be described as a depression fog that clouds you both until you’re reunited once again.

You could already feel it heavy in your chest. Your heart pounded loudly in your eyes while you sunk further into the ground, sobbing loudly. What was wrong with you? Were you truly so unlovable that your soulmate hated you?

Mustering up your strength, you managed to pull yourself up from the floor, feeling embarrassed since your underwear had been torn to shreds by Stiles. You hurried yourself to Allison’s house, crying in her lap about everything that happened as she did her best to reassure you. Nothing worked. You went to bed, feeling worse by the second.

Too top everything off, you had killed someone. Someone you had known, and while he had taken a liking to shitting on Voids once he had gotten older, you couldn’t help but remember the sweet kid from grade school who had sat with you because you were new. And you had killed him, _and then proceeded to have sex?! What the fuck? _Those thoughts sunk you even lower. The tiny rational part of you that knew if you hadn’t of killed Adam, both you and Stiles would be dead, but you weren’t listening. Instead, you listened to the part of you that was convincing you that you were the worst person alive.

No wonder Stiles doesn’t want you. Who would want someone who just kills anyone then fucks someone else? You’re disgusting, pathetic. You don’t even deserve a soulmate.

Scott promised that he’d do everything he could to make Stiles talk to you, but every time he walked the long trail back from the Stilinski home, he never brought Stiles back with him. For five agonizing days, he actively avoided any sort of interaction with you while your thoughts spiraled deeper into self-loathing. He had to know that if you two continued to avoid each other like this what the consequences were; he couldn’t want that for you or him, could he…?

On day six you had decided that enough was enough. You had decided that you would invite him over, make him dinner, and you two would talk. You’d make it clear that you two could take it at whatever pace he felt comfortable with since he took extreme caution in who he’d let in his life. All you wanted was someone to spend the rest of your life with, and if that took some time, you were okay with that.

You gave yourself at least a thousand pep talks in the mirror, put on a cute blue sundress with sandals, and made your way up to his house.

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, the nagging voice in your head begged you to turn right back around and crawl back under the covers, and your confidence was draining by the second. Nevertheless, you persisted, and before you knew it, you were standing in front of his door. Raising your hand, you attempted to knock on his door. However, something was blocking you from reaching the door. Confused, you tried again to knock, only to have your hand whipped backward, nearing removing your shoulder from its socket. You stood there for a second, dumbfounded, before the door finally swung up, revealing an extremely unhappy Stiles.

“What the fuck do you want?” he said, voice dripping with malice, making your stomach drop to the floor. His gaze pierced right through, jaw ticking in irritation.

Panicking, you said the first thing that came to your head, “Did you put a forcefield around your house to keep me out?” Stiles’ eyes hardened, his scowl deepening. Clearly, not the right thing to say as you mentally cursed yourself.

“You and Scott, who keeps pestering me like a goddamn dog. Now, I ask again, what do you fucking want?” he raised his voice at you, nearly shouting. You began to play with your fingers nervously. A dark voice in your head began to shout louder that you shouldn’t have bothered coming.

“I…I thought we needed to talk about this-“

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

You fumbled for a second, you could feel your breaths become shallower. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go.

“Look, I don’t know why you don’t want to, but this is pretty important. We at least need to-“

“LOOK! There’s nothing to do, there’s nothing to say! I don’t want anything to do with you! You really thing I’m the type of guy to go around having a soulmate? No! I’m a Dark, and I’m Void! I don’t want a fucking soulmate, and I decided that a long time ago, so you need to get used to it. I don’t want to see you, talk to you, in fact, if I could, I would kick you out of my town! So do us all a favor, and get the fuck off of my property!” And with that, he slammed the door, once again leaving you alone.

The voice in your head laughed at you. Pathetic. You really thought that’d work. Are you two actually soulmates? Because if you were, you would’ve known that wouldn’t have worked. Obviously. Over and over those thought plagued you, and the tears flowed down your cheeks faster than you could process. Quickly placing a hand over your mouth, you tried your best to cover your sobs, not wanting to seem like you were begging for his attention. Well, you were, but you had a feeling things would only end up worse if you stayed here crying. He’d likely come out and just keep yelling at you.

Gathering up your shredded dignity, you turned around and began the lonely walk home.

Stiles thumped his head against the door, sliding down until he was sat against it. He banged his head three more times, each time harder than the last. Two sides of him were competing, the one wanting nothing more than to spend every ounce of his time with you, showering you with love and affection, showing you just how much he cared, how much he’s always cared. The other part was telling him how you’d want nothing to do with him, that you deserved far better than what he could offer, and he should just let you go and leave you to your life without him in it because that’s what’s best for you. Unfortunately, the latter part of him is winning.

Scott was up at his home every single day, telling him he should at least talk to you, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to do just that. Instead, he told Scott to fuck off every time, and eventually he put up that shield around his house, keeping everyone out. Stiles treated Scott the same way he treated you; he told him he wanted nothing to do with you or Scott, and that everyone should just leave him alone.

He told himself that this is for the best. He learned a long time ago that he couldn’t be loved. Not by anyone. Not even you…

He sat there against the wall, feeling worse by the second.

The next two days dragged from him. A part of him hoped that you would show up again, but you didn’t. He knew he had driven you away for good. He didn’t leave his house or bother to eat, none of it really feeling worth it. Stiles spent most of his time in bed, simultaneously sleeping way too much while having it feel like not enough.

On day three, he felt his forcefield shake, meaning someone had tried to at least knock on the door. He ran from his bedroom, hoping it was you. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it was Scott on the other side.

“What do you want,” Stiles muttered, not having any energy.

“Oh? No ‘Fuck you,’ for me today?” Scott’s tone was biting, and his face wasn’t friendly. Stiles looked at him with shock, he hadn’t spoken to him like that before. “Look, Stiles, I’ve tried to be nice about this whole ‘you avoid your fucking soulmate’ bit, but enough is enough. You need to at least talk to her! You’re soulmates for a fucking reason! You consider me your friend, right?”

“Yes, I-“

“Then quit shutting us out, shutting _me _out, and shutting y/n out because let’s not forget the fact that she saved your fucking life. Without her, you’d be dead, you understand? Even if she wasn’t your soulmate, you should at least, the very fucking least thank her!” Scott slammed his hand against the forcefield. “All any of us want is for you to be happy, and to get out of your deep mistrust of people because look around! This entire place is filled with Darks and people who don’t give a shit about your magical allegiance if you’re a good person. We’re not going to cast you away, Stiles, all we want is to help you,” Scott’s tone changed from anger to sympathy as he spoke.

The forcefield Stiles had been maintaining began to fade away, mostly out exhaustion on Stiles’ end to keep it up. Still, he couldn’t help but let his walls start to crack after all these years of keeping them up.

“Scott…I don’t deserve her. I’m not enough,” Stiles whispered, holding back his tears. Old habits die hard.

“You don’t know that,” Scott took a step forward and placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Just talk to her man.” Scott continued with his speech, but Stiles stopped listening, suddenly feeling and overwhelm urge that something was wrong.

“Scott…where does y/n live?” Stiles said so quietly that Scott almost missed it. Scott noticed instantly his tone wasn’t of resolve to see you, but of panic.

“Um, wha-“

“Where does she live?” Stiles said, louder and more urgently. He grabbed at Scott’s shoulders, panic in his eyes while Scott’s also widened in fear at how Stiles was acting.

“Um, three houses from Allison-“

“Is she there now?!”

“Uh-ye-yeah I think-“ Stiles didn’t bother hearing the rest of what Scott had to say as he shoved him aside and bolted down the path

Please don’t be too late, he thought. Please, don’t be too late!

You had decided that day that you’d end your life. You had read countless stories on how soulmates who had been separated or died before they got to know each other. The survivor usually killed themselves after they’ve aged another ten years. Usually, the were miserable the entire time with their powers draining to the point where some couldn’t even access their abilities anymore. You didn’t want to come to that fate. If it was inevitable, you’d get it out of the way, saving yourself from years of grief and giving Stiles the life he wanted.

You sat next to the bathtub, swirling the water around with your hand. Honestly, you weren’t sure why you had it on; you weren’t going to get in. Maybe to make it easier?

You looked at the silver dagger, a gift from one of your old friends who were driven out of your hometown for being a Dark, and decided it was now or never. Picking up the blade, you pressed the tip to the skin on your wrist, tears streaking down your cheeks. You didn’t want to die; you wanted a life with your soulmate, with Stiles. But he didn’t want you…God, you’ve never felt so unlovable in your entire fucking life.

Taking a deep breath, you let the blade slowly cut through your skin, seeing the crimson blood leak out slowly.

Then the door flew open, startling you and causing you to jump. You jerked your head in the direction of the open doorway with Stiles standing there. He was breathing heavily, his forehead covered in sweat. Seeing the knife in your hand, his eyes widened.

For a split second, neither of you moved, unsure what to do.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Stiles sprang into action, rushing toward grabbing. Forcefully, he ripped the knife out of your hand and flung it toward the wall where it stuck like a bullseye. Gently but with fever, he grabbed your shoulders and ran you over to the nearby sink, turning on the water and thrusting your wrist into the stream. He used his finger to wipe away at the blood.

“It’s not that bad…it’s not that bad…” he whispered, mostly to reassure himself. After cleaning out the cut as best he could, he ran around your bathroom, frantically opening drawers and cabinets until he found the first aid kit. He pulled out the disinfectant and began to work, cleaning the wound and bandaging it up as best he could. He took in a shaky breath once he realized that you were going to be okay.

Meanwhile, you had merely been staring at him, eyes wide while you watched him work to patch you up. This didn’t make sense. I thought he didn’t care…

You two stayed like that for a few minutes, you staring at him while he stared at your arm, his thumb smoothing over the bandage. Every so often he would dip down and press his lips to your wrist.

After what felt like an eternity, you heard Stiles mumble something, but you couldn’t decipher it.

“Hm?” you hummed softly, trying not to scare him away.

“Why…” he whispered, finally lifting his head to look at you properly, tears welling in his eyes.

You were confused. “What?”

Suddenly, he grabbed your shoulders roughly, forcing you to stand and walk backwards until your back was pressed against a wall. Tears fell openly across his face while he looked at you with a mixture of pain, panic, and…love?

“Why? Why would you do that? Why would you even think to…just please! Don’t do that please just tell me why?” Stiles was pressing you, his voice becoming shakier with each passing word.

“BECAUSE YOU DON’T CARE!” You shouted angrily. Stiles jumped back, his eyes wide with shock and fear. He still held you at an arm’s length away. You took a deep breath before continuing. “Look…if you want to spend the rest of your life alone without…without a soulmate, go right ahead. I won’t stop you. I want you to live the life you want. But I can’t follow that path. I won’t lie, this past week and a half has been absolutely miserable, and I won’t let myself spend the next years just withering away. I won’t, I can’t…I’m sorry” your voice faded away once you were finished speaking.

Stiles dipped his head low, not meeting your eye. His grip on your shoulders tightened while you two stayed there for another few moments of agonizing silence.

“I want everything for you,” Stiles spoke, voice wavering as his tears fell quicker than they were before. “I want you to have the life you deserve. A life that you want for yourself, a life filled with every opportunity that you could ever imagine. But…I’m a Dark…all my opportunities are gone, the world just won’t let me have even a chance. I can’t give that to you, I can’t give you want you deserve.”

“But what about what I want?” Stiles’ eyes snapped up to meet yours with a hopeful look in them. “What I want, more than anything, is you. My soulmate. I want you with me. I’ve been waiting my entire life to meet you and show you just how much I care about you. I don’t need anything else. And I promise you, Stiles, that no matter what hell you went through to get to where you are now, I promise I’m not going to run away. I’ll be right here, by your side. Like how we are meant to be. You’re the only one for me,”

Stiles head fell forward until your foreheads were pressed together. You could hear him take in shaky breaths as he tried to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, I just-I don’t-I’ve never had someone like you in my life before. I shouldn’t have ran away that day…I just got so scared that I would fuck things up, then I went ahead and fucked things up. I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He moved his head to the crook between your neck and shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He continued to mumble constant apologizes while you reassured him. You could feel his warm tears soak the front of your shirt as he breaths became less ragged until finally his breathing was slow and deep; your heartbeats in sync with each other. The depression fog you had felt after that day slowly began to lift with a sense of peace washing over the both of you.

Stiles was the first to pull back, taking one step away. You looked at each other, the sexual tension dropping in out of nowhere.

Seriously? You thought. You can’t wait? We’re having a moment! Of course you knew how it was with the first few days interacting with your soulmate. Biology stops for no one.

His hand slid down until you two were holding hands, giving you a small smile in the process. The other hand ran through his hair nervously.

“Um…th-that day, uh, after we-um-after we-“

“Had sex?” you offered. A deep blush settled onto his cheeks, his eyes widened at your bluntness.

“Uh, yeah, well…” Stiles trailed off, gripping your hand tighter.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” you said, gently placing your other hand on top of his. “I’m not gonna bolt out the door at a personal question. We’re soulmates, we should probably know each other pretty well, or at least know what our favorite color is,” Stiles laughed at your comment, and while it wasn’t a long or loud laugh, you still felt accomplished.

“…yellow,” Stiles said with smile still split across his face. “It’s yellow.”

You smiled back at him, giggling at the irony. “So’s mine,” He grin brightened. “So…what did you want to ask me?”

Stiles pressed his lips into a thin line before clearing his throat, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. The sexual tension laid thick between you two, appear almost out of nowhere. “Were you a virgin before we had sex?” Sex wasn’t something he often talked about, so talking about it so openly, especially with you, still made him a little uncomfortable.

You squeezed his hand, silently congratulating him for that minor win. “I was. I had a boyfriend back in my hometown…Adam…”

Stiles eyes widened, his jaw falling to the floor. “You dated the guy that almost killed me?” He nearly shouted, tone harsh.

You scowled at him. “I killed him, Stiles, to save you. I…I didn’t even think twice…” Your face quickly changed from anger to…sadness? No, that wasn’t right. Stiles had seen that look on his face numerous times. Guilt.

He panicked slightly, unsure of what to do. He’s never really comforted someone before. Looking back now, it seems like everyone else was always taking care of him. With his panic rising, he blurted the first things he could think of.

“Thank you, y/n. Seriously. If you hadn’t of done that, I wouldn’t be standing here right now…with you,” you looked at him with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. Fuck. He wasn’t good at this. “Um…I think it would also be good to talk to someone about it…”

“Not you?”

“Y/n I-“ love you. He’d almost said it but caught himself. He did, he had loved his soulmate from the second he found out he had one, but he had just gotten you after nearly losing you. He didn’t want to scare you away. “-care about you. So much. But…we’ve just met. Right now, we don’t know too much about each other, and believe me, I plan to spend every single moment I can getting to know you, but I am in no position to give you advice about this because I don’t know how to help you,” he squeezed your hand gently, moving the other to cup your face, his thumb wiping away the stray tear. “Awhile ago, Scott had dragged me out to see a therapist that’s around here. I only went twice, but honestly I wish I had kept going. She was really helpful, and she said things that I just wasn’t ready to hear, so I got angry and left. But she’s part of the reason I was able to venture out of the house once in a fucking blue moon…or go to dinner with Scott and his friends-“

“You know, they’re your friends too,” you whispered.

Stiles nodded, more to reiterate that point to himself. “I think you should see her. She’d be able to help you know a lot more than I could. But I’ll tell you this: Y/n, it wasn’t out of malice what you did. I promise. If you hadn’t of killed him…I would’ve died. And I think he would’ve killed you after finishing with me. No, scratch that. I don’t think. I know. Come here,” he pulled you forward until your cheek was pressed against his shoulder, his arms around you again, only this time it was him comforting you.

“You underestimate yourself, Stiles. I feel a little better thanks to you,” Stiles hummed, the vibrations hitting your cheek. “Would…would you come with me? It’s not too late to go back…”

He hesitated for a moment, then answered, “Yeah, I’ll go with you. I owe her an apologize. I owe a lot of people an apology…” you shushed him quietly, not letting him sink into his usual self-loathing. This time, you pulled back, smiling up at him. He returned the smile, making you realize just how little you’ve seen him smile, but loving it all the same.

Of course, the sexual tension from earlier had decided to hit you both like a goddamn truck. You’ve got to be fucking me, you thought. Despite what you knew, you tried to suppress your desires, not wanting to mess up this moment with him.

Unfortunately, Stiles had already felt it, and you saw his nervous ticks return. An awkward silence joined the room besides the heavy sexual tensions, clearly a perfect combination. This continued for a few painstakingly long minutes, neither of you sure of what to do.

Stiles cleared his throat, “Um…how-how come you never…did anything with him?” he asked tensely, trying not to break the delicate peace you two had achieved.

“Well…he wasn’t my soulmate,” you said slowly. “Once I had found out about them, I had felt guilty for taking that step with someone else. Even if I was drunk.” You shrugged. “But if you had sex with others, I’m not gonna freak out or anything, that’s just how I felt. I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to.”

Stiles looked down at his feet. He had felt the same way before, but once the world abandoned him, he thought he’d never meet his soulmate. He silently cursed himself, regretting every other sexual encounter that he had. “I’m guessing that wasn’t how you imagined your first time would be,” he said sadly.

You shook your head. “No, it wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t like it,” A smile flickered across his face. His hands slid down your body before they were settling on your hips, pulling you close to him. Your eyes looked into his honey ones. He bit his lip, his stare full of lust, want, yet it was also pleading with you.

“Can-can I try again?” he whispered, nearly inaudible. But you heard him, and all you could manage to do was nod, unable to find the words.

Tentatively, he moved his hands until they were gently cupping your face before he pressed his lips to yours. It was different from before. It was soft, almost like he was afraid to break you. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck, bringing both of you closer together than before. You felt your hearts beat together, signifying how this was all meant to be.

Slowly, the kiss became more heated, his tongue darting out to meet yours. His hands roamed freely around your body, ghosting over your breasts to settle back on your hips, giving them a squeeze.

“Jump,” he breathed out between kisses. You happily complied, wrapping your legs around his torso once again, only instead of him pressing you up against the wall, he walked out of the bathroom and into your bedroom, placing you down gently onto the mattress as he hovered over you, smiling down at you before kissing you once again. He slid his hand up and down your thigh before lifting it up and slotting it against hip, rocking his hardened cock into your core while you rolled your hips up to meet his needy thrusts. Everything happening was slowly, but deliberately.

Leaning back, Stiles skimmed his hands down the hem of your shirt, tugging for a second before lifting it above your head and tossing it over his shoulder, not caring where it landed. Since you had forgone a bra, your chest was completely bare to him. He bit his lip, looking up at you, his once honey brown eyes were now almost jet black, blown wide with lust. He moved his hands to cup your breasts, squeezing them roughly, his lips brushing at your neck.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered into your neck, causing you to moan out and arched your back toward him. “’M gonna take care of you, ‘M gonna take such good care of you baby I promise. I’ll fuck you so good…so good,” He continued to palm your tits before dipping down and sealing his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak. Frantically, you grabbed the back of his head, threading your fingers through his dark hair before grasping them roughly.

“Fuck, Stiles…” you moaned, closing your eyes tightly at the sensations he was giving you, his tongue moving expertly across your chest, leaving angry red marks in his wake. You relished in the feeling, never wanted it to end.

Reluctantly, he removed his mouth from your breast with a pop, reaching behind him to remove his shirt and toss it. He shifted down further, feather touching your body until he reached the waistband of your shorts. Looping his fingers, he dragged them down your legs slowly. Too slowly. After they were thrown off you, Stiles massaged his fingertips into your thighs, spreading your legs wider to expose your covered core to him. Leaning forward, he kissed the inside of your thighs, trailing around your panties and nibbling on your hipbones. His fingers slid up and down your covered core, feeling your wetness through the soaked panties.

“Stiles…please, please…” you begged. He looked back up at you, his movements stilling. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“As you wish, anything for you my dove, anything,”

Not taking as much care as before, he threw your panties off you, groaning at the sight of your glistening folds. Adjusting himself so he was on his stomach, he circled his hands around your thighs, placing one final kiss on each one before he dived right in, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. You cried out instantly at the contact, your hips leaving the bed to roll into his face. That barely lasted a second while his arm snaked around and pressed your hips back down.

He began to suck on your clit harshly, flicking various patterns across the bud. His other hand moved to probed at your entrance, circling one finger around before he was sinking it in knuckle deep. He swirled his finger around slowly, thrusting a couple times before adding a second finger into your warm wet core. He glanced up to look at you, only to find your head thrown back in ecstasy, soft moans exhaling through your lips.

He tipped your head forward. “Open your eyes dove, I wanna see you fall apart please,” Stiles’ voice was low and sultry.

You pried your eyes open, but they so heavy, every limb in your body felt boneless. “Stiles…I-I don’t know how long-“

“Keep them open as long as you can baby, I know you can do it,” Stiles’ mouth was back on your clit, slick sounds filled the room as he pumped his fingers at a speed that was nearly incomprehensible, but his eyes were on yours, pupils dilating even more at the state you were in. Your moans grew louder, his name spilling from your lips over and over again. The coil in your stomach tightened further while you clenched desperately around his fingers, drawing him in further and further.

“Stiles, I-I’m close!” you panted out.

“S’okay, baby, let go I’ve got you, I’ve got you baby,” And with a particular thrust of his fingers and another harsh suck on your clit, you came undone. Closing your eyes tightly and throwing your head back, you orgasm crushed over you, shaking your entire body as you grabbed the sheets of the bed. His tongue continued to work against you, lapping up all your juices from you. You jerked and spasmed in his grip, toes curling at the over-stimulation until he pulled away, smiling cockily at you and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

Stiles hovered over you once again, bracing himself on one forearm while the gripped your right hip. He peppered kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and across your face. Meanwhile, you were sucking in deep breaths trying to calm your racing heart. He smiled down at you, kissing the tip of your nose and giving you time to recover from your intense orgasm.

“You okay? Was that alright, not too rough?” he whispered, his tone sweet and laced with adoration. You nodded, still breathless.

“It was perfect,” you whimpered.

He smiled against your skin, moving his kisses from your face to your jaw, trailing down to your neck. “Good,” he said. “I wanted it to be perfect. I want _everything _to be perfect for you. I want absolutely everything for you, my dove,” he continued to kiss your neck softly, not pressing any further to let you recover. “Do you want to take a break? We do have to keep going,” your heart melting at his words, a smile tugging at your lips.

“It’s okay, I want to keep going,” you said confidently.

“Good,” he smiled genuinely at you, placing a chaste but sweet kiss to your lips. You sighed into the kiss, disappointed when it ended all too soon.

Stiles moved to stand, undoing the belt on his jeans quickly. Popping the button, he dragged his jeans down with his boxer. Your eyes widened, staring directly at his cock. It was large, bigger than what you remembered, although your last experience had been a lust-filled blur you can’t really remember it. Honestly, it felt rude to stare, but you couldn’t help it. The head was leaking with precum, and instinctively you bit your lip.

After a moment, you flicked your eyes up to see Stiles’ gaze already on yours, a cocky smirk stamped on his face. “Whatcha doing?” he said teasingly. You blushed, now doing everything in your power to avoid looking at his dick.

“Um…is-is it gonna fit?” Stiles laughed loudly at that.

“Baby, it fit before!”

“Well, I wasn’t really pay attention before!” Now you were laughing, breaking the awkward tension that had started to form. You sat forward, reaching your hand out to stroke him before he stopped you.

“Tonight, my dove, is all about you,” he said, pushing you gently back to lie among the covers again.

He crawled up toward to, spreading your legs wide and slotting his hips against yours, running his cock up and down your folds, which were still completely soaked from your previous orgasm. Stiles tipped your head forward again, the playful look from before was gone and replaced with a serious one. His eyes, however, expressed such love for one, that maybe one day he hoped to be able to find the courage to explain how intense his feelings are. Instead, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“Are you sure?” he checked one last time. You smiled at him, nodding your head.

Placing another kiss, he lined himself up at your entrance and slowly began to push himself in. You gasped, still not used to having someone inside you. He took his time, moving his cock in inch by inch until he was seated in you completely, his hips pressed up against your own. He bit his lip, trying not to cum just by being inside your warm, wet, and tight pussy.

Your hands grabbed at his shoulders. “Move, Stiles, please! Please!” you begged.

“I’ve got you, dove,” Slowly, he moved his hips back, pulling out nearly all the way before sliding back. He started slow, but each thrust into you was precise, hitting all the right places inside you. The pleasure was building in your stomach as he got deeper and deeper inside you. He was taking his time fucking you, not wanting to rush anything.

Your legs wrapped around him, locking together at your ankles so he was able to sink even deeper into you. His hot breath was against your neck, moaning out your name.

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight baby,” he said, thrusting in between each punctuation. “You feel so good, so fucking good, oh my god. Fuck! You’re so warm, s’good. You were made for me, dove, made for me in every possible way,” With each thrust, he picked up his speed while your fingernails dug crescent shaped moons into his skin, your mind becoming foggy with only his name running through your mind. You felt every throb of him each time he pounded into you while his whispered filthy things in your ear, spurring you on even further as you got closer and closer to the edge for the second time.

“Want more baby? Need more from me?” you let out a moan, unable to find words. He chuckled at your fucked-out state. Stilling for just a moment (you let out an uncomfortable whine), he shifted your leg to settle over his shoulder. He picked a grueling pace, thrusting into you again. By now, your moans were loud, you were pratically screaming out his name as he fucked you into oblivion. Somehow, Stiles kept up this punishing pace, chasing his own climax.

Eventually, his thrusts grew sloppy and needy, his orgasm nearing closer and closer.

“Stiles-“ was all of a warning you could muster that you were close too. He looked at you and pressed two of his fingers against your lips, slipping through into your mouth. You sucked on them languidly, Stiles’ eyes slipping shut as he groaned.

Pulling them out with a pop, he slid his hand back down, pressing hard against against your overly abused clit. One quick circle around the bud was all it took for you to come crashing over the edge, cumming harshly as your orgasm took over your entire body, flooding all of your senses like fire rushing up through your veins. Every single part of you shook, waves of pleasure flooding over you while Stiles fucked you through your orgasm until he came himself with a shout of your name on his lips, his cum coating your walls. That was the last thing you remembered before blacking out completely.

When you came too, you had another pair of panties on along with his shirt, and you were tucking under the covers. You pried your eyes open, only to find that Stiles was nowhere to be found. You panicked, thought that he had left you again. You stood, maneuvering on shaky legs toward the bedroom door. Leaning against the wall, you opened the door as best you could.

“Stiles,” you called. No response. Dread pooled in your stomach as your anxiety heightened even further. Did he leave again? “STILES?” you shouted.

“Baby?” he said, sounding far away. You let out a breath, relieved. You heard him climb the stairs, taking two at a time. Stiles peered around the corner, shirtless with only his boxer briefs on and a glass of water in his hand. He rushed up to you, placing a quick peck on your forehead before running into the bedroom to place the glass of water on the nightstand. Walking back to you, he scooped you up and carried you bridal style back onto the bed. “What’s wrong? Why did you get up?” he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I-I got worried…it seems a little silly now,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

Stiles chuckled, then nodded over to the floor, “My pants and shoes are still here dove, I highly doubt I’ll be going anywhere without those,” he said, his tone playful. You looked to the floor, a giggle on your lips as you laughed at your obliviousness. “And besides,” he said, leaning and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.” Stiles shuffled you around until you were laying a cheek on his chest, his heartbeat thumping steadily against your ear while your legs tangled together.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Go to sleep, my dove.”

You two spent the next week in bed, pretty much just fucking the entire time. Sometimes it was slow and loving, him thrusting into you slow and deep, dragging out your experience together. Other times it was rough, him tugging on your hand as he pounded into you with godlike speed. You’d ride on his cock, tits bouncing for him while he left fingerprint bruises into your skin, he’d have you on your knees choking on his cock, or he’d pound you from behind, pulling your back against his chest while he muttered what a good girl you were for taking him so well.

In between the sex, you two would talk about everything and nothing all at once. You found that he still had a little trouble opening up to you, which you knew would take some time. However, you would be here with open arms whenever he felt ready. Nevertheless, you still saw parts of him that you never expected: he was shy, sweet, but at the same time he was really funny. Even a little charismatic at times. You could also see just how much he cared about other people. It was buried, yes, but there.

In return, he learned so much about you. You told plenty of childhood stories, from when you broke your leg by falling down two steps of stairs (“Hey! I was frail five-year-old!”) to the time on Halloween when you dressed as a werewolf and instead of saying “trick or treat!” at the door, you howled.

Things weren’t always so easy, once your little sexapade ended. A lifetime trauma of neglect wasn’t going to disappear overnight, and neither was the looming guilt that you killed someone. Early on, it had been frustrating when Stiles got into his moods or had a bad day. He’d reverted into his cold exterior shell that wouldn’t open for anyone, not even you. All you wanted to do was help and he wouldn’t let you. Some of the bad days, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Other times, he’d get angry at your mere presence. He’d shut you out and you’d angry, only for him to come around and apologize. You had decided that this wasn’t exactly healthy and came up with a solution that seemed to work for him. He’d tell you if he was having a bad day, and you’d ask if he want to talk about, wanted you to distract him from it by talking, wanted you to just hold him, or wanted to be left alone. You thanked your therapist for the idea, and it worked wonders.

Even for you, when you had your first bad day, Stiles was in a particularly good mood, and you didn’t want to spoil it for him with your own troubles. But he was smart and caught on pretty quick that something was wrong. You had immediately started sobbing, thinking you had ruined everything when he used your own tricks against you.

The only caveat was when you both had a bad day, but overtime, your guys’ bad days became less and less frequent. You had made it a point for Stiles to go outside at least once a day, either with you or Scott, and to join all of your friends for dinner whenever they got together. Of course, he’d been reluctant to go, but eventually he did more than just sit there with a brooding look on his face. He made small comments every now and then, even allowing himself to chuckle at a joke or two. It was small progress, but progress, nonetheless.

It had been three years since you and Stiles had found each other, and for the first time in a long time you were nervous, pacing back and forth around the living room of Stiles’ home. You had asked Scott for help in distracting Stiles while you got everything ready. Slowly, your negative thoughts overcame you. Maybe this was a bad idea… you thought. Maybe it’s not too late to fix it! Unfortunately, just as your resolve to do this had dwindle, you heard the doorknob turn. You gasped, turning to see Stiles walk through the door, a small smile on his lips as his eyes met yours.

“Hey Stiles,” you said, forcing a smile as best you could.

“Hey, my dove,” he responded, taking quick steps over to turn. Placing his large hands on your waist, he pulled you closer, leaning down to kiss you, which you happily returned, thinking that you had fooled him. Obviously, you had been wrong.

“Bad day?” he muttered into your lips. “What do you need from me baby?”

“Um, uh, not a bad day,” you stuttered.

“Nervous? You haven’t been nervous in awhile baby,” he squeezed at your waist reassuringly.

“Well, um, I-“

“Flustered now too? Are you sure everything’s okay?” Stiles peered down at you, worry swimming in his eyes.

You couldn’t handle that look in his eyes much longer, “I sold my house!” you blurted out.

Stiles’ eyebrows shot up to his hairline as his jaw fell open. He took a few steps back, scratching as the back of his neck nervously. “Um…come again?” he asked.

You sighed, willing yourself to focus your gaze on him. “I, uh, sold my house. There was this really nice family that was moving in, and their budget was super limited and I felt really, really bad honestly it was just so spur of the moment and-“

“Y/n, where are you going to live?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Um, I was kinda hoping I could move in with you?” you said slowly. Stiles mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as he finally understood. “Look, I’m already here nearly every single night with you, and we’re actually running out of homes here because it’s no longer just single people coming it’s whole families! And I really don’t need the space especially since all my time is with you, which I absolutely love by the way, and they were pretty desperate to find a home so next thing I knew I was offering up my house, and your really should’ve seen their faces, and-“ he cut you off, grabbing your face roughly and pressing his lips against yours, slipping his tongue inside with ease.

Pulling away, he smiled at you. “I would love for you to move in with me,” Stiles said with a goofy grin on his face.

You squealed, jumping into his arms while he spun you around, both of your laughter filling the air.

“So, should we go and get your stuff?” Stiles asked after setting you down.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you smiled nervously. “About that,” you drawled out. “I, uh, may or may not of had Scott distract you so I could move in all of my things,”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, jerking his head to look around the room. “Um? It literally looks the same baby,”

“Well, there wasn’t much to move, considering I had practically all of my belongings here for almost half a year now,” you said, with a sudden realization. “But there was something I had to move over, wait here!” you ran over, placing a quick peck on his cheek before into your now shared bedroom, opening a box and filing through all the different pieces to find the letters that you had written to your soulmate before you knew it was Stiles. Gathering up the small bundle, you excitedly rushed out to a waiting Stiles. “Um, when I first heard I had a soulmate, at six, I had wanted to write you a whole bunch of letters, but my parents restricted me to one a year, so,” you chuckled nervously seeing Stiles’ eyes widened, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Wait here,” he said quickly before running out of the room. You sat down on the couch, a little confused. When he returned, your jaw dropped to the floor with the enormous pile of letters, nearly overflowing and falling out of his arms because there were so many. “Um, my parents didn’t restrict me, but looking at it now, maybe they should have,”

“Holy fuck Stiles!” you laughed. “How many are there?”

“I think I lost count after around sixty-four...?”

“SIXTY-FOUR?” By now, you couldn’t stop laughing at the absurdity of it, but at the same time your heart melting at the fact that he cared so much for you then, even if you didn’t know him.

Stiles smiled fondly at you. “You should read some of them, I probably should’ve kept them in order…”

You chuckled, plucking a random one from the pile and tearing it open. This one was from when he was nine, telling you about some of the new friends he made in fourth grade, how he loves science and hates English, and how he finally has all of his grown-up teeth in. He also complimented you, saying that no matter what you looked like, you were already the prettiest girl in the world. You smiled at how adorable he was, only for it to turn into a sad one as you wondered what happened.

The next letter was a cringey one from when he was 13 and writing some God-awful poetry (“Hey, Romeo and Juliet really hit it home for me!” he had told you.) You cringed the whole time reading it but smiled at his efforts.

The last letter you grabbed was from when he was 15. His birthday was a few months away, and Stiles was spending his time wondering what his magical allegiance would be. He seen some of his older friends with powers, and they looked cool as fuck! He also mentioned how he now despises science thanks to a teacher named Mr. Harris, and his girlfriend had recently broken up with him. He said how sorry he was for dating her, thinking maybe she was you, but now he knew it wasn’t, and he was going to try his best to be patient waiting for, but he was just so excited to meet you so he could spend the rest of his loving you. He signed it “Love, Stiles” that’s how he signed every letter.

“You had a girlfriend?” you asked, a hint of teasing in your voice.

“Yeah, uh, she broke up with me when she tried to kiss me, but I couldn’t kiss her back.”

“Why not?”

“Because she wasn’t my soulmate; she wasn’t YOU. I wanted my first kiss to be with them, and she had gotten really angry and broke up with me on the spot,” his smile faltered as he talked. “I really wish I had kept that mindset…” he trailed off, not meeting your eye.

“You know, I’m not angry at you for that,” you said sympathetically.

“I-I know, I know!” he said quickly. “It’s just, I wish it could’ve been as special as yours was,” Stiles reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out another letter. “This is the final one I wrote to you. I had just turned sixteen,” he whispered.

His hand was shaky slightly as he held it out for you. You knew that he was opening up to you like never before.

Slowly, you opened the letter. It was shorter than the other ones you read.

Dear Soulmate,

I’m fucked. Forever fucked. Oh God why did this have to happen to me? What the fuck did I do wrong?

I thought I could be different, but I was wrong. Even my parents are still afraid of me, afraid of what I can supposedly do. I won’t use my powers. I won’t, even if it does slowly kill me.

They all hate me now will you hate me too?

Please don’t hate me

I love you.

Tears welled in your eyes. You looked up at Stiles, only to see him avoiding your gaze, much more interested in the floor.

“Stiles,” you said quietly. He looked up at you, his shoulders slumped low. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I want to,” he said, his eyes fixed onto you. “I want to…”

He shuffled for a second, scratching at his face and running a hand through his hair. He leaned heavily against the wall, his head low again. “It was instant,” he started. “The change. One minute I had loads of friends, and the next they all despised me, throwing insult after insult. Some just pretended I didn’t exist. Quite honestly, I don’t know which hurt more, but either way, they all abandoned me when I needed them the most,” Stiles took in another shaky breath before continuing. “Everything changed. I got detention once for breaking a pencil and going up to sharpen it. I became what everyone thought I would be not because its who I am, but because they made me feel I had no other choice. I started getting death threats everyday that they just became normal. I tried reporting them, but everyone just assumed I was lying because I’m a Void right? It’s in my goddamn nature!” His voice had risen considerably, feeling something shift inside of him now that he was letting this part of his past go.

“My parents were the only ones that still loved me, and they burned down my fucking house because of it. They killed the only people who were willing to give me a chance, who were willing to love me despite everything that had happened to me, and I just got so angry that day. So fucking angry. I decided to throw everyone out of this town. I didn’t want to kill them, I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t mean to start this whole safe haven bit, but once people heard, Darks just came here so they could finally live under the sun, because they knew exactly what I had been through.

“Now the whole world has changed. Some safe havens didn’t even need to fight! Their governor or whoever the fuck just said ‘Hey this place is open for Darks! Don’t like it? Fuck off, then,’ and people just accepted it. They’re all over the entire world now! All because I just wanted the people who used to love me to go away, I didn’t intend any of this…and sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if you had known me back then…would you still love me?”

“Stiles, of course I would still love you!” you exclaimed, the tears streaking down your face. “You’re parents loved you-“

“They had to. I was their only son…”

“And I was my parents’ only daughter, and they didn’t think twice before throwing me out into the streets,” you said, eyebrows furrowing. “They throw me out without even a second glance. That’s how a lot of Darks ended up in the dark corners of the world; their parents threw them out. But not yours, Stiles, because they truly loved you,” you stood, walking slowly over to stand in front of Stiles. His cheeks were shiny with tears, but his eyebrows weren’t furrowed, and the tension in his face was gone. You reached up to cup his face in your hands. “I know you didn’t intend it, but you changed the world for the better. And…I’ve learned that the people who truly love you won’t care about something you have no control over. They love you for you, just like I love you, Stiles”

His arms snaked around your waist, settling on your lower back while he pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you. So much. I’ve loved you since the second I’ve heard about even having a soulmate. I loved you that first day I saw you eating ice cream with our friends. I’ve loved you my whole life…you’re part of the reason I didn’t succumb to my isolation. I thought about getting rid of those letters, but every time I tried, I couldn’t do you because I love you, and deep down, I knew that you loved me too.”

“I do love you, Stiles,”

“I know, if there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure about, its that you love me, and I love you,”

“Congratulations on the engagement!” Stiles said, patting his friend on the back.

“Thanks man,” Scott said, smiling his big goofy grin. “I’m so excited to finally marry her, when are you gonna pop the question for y/n?”

Stiles smiled with a twinkle in his eye. “Oh, I have a plan,” he said rather nonchalantly.

“Will I be informed of this plan?”

“No,”

“Bro! Come on, I’m your best friend,” Scott made it a point to bring that up nearly everyday since Stiles told him that.

“I know, BUT you’ll tell Allison, who will then tell y/n, making it not be a surprise anymore, and I want it to be a surprise,”

“Fair enough,”

They continued on for a moment in silence. Not the awkward silence from years before when Scott had to drag him out of the house, but a comfortable one. One between good friends.

“Hey,” Scott said, stopping in his tracks for a moment. Stiles looked at him concerned. “I just wanted to say how proud of you I am. You’ve really come a long way,”

“So has the world. How many safe havens did you say there are now?”

“I think it’s around 250?”

Stiles whistled lowly at that. “Oh, um, thank you,” he said, with more awkwardness then he had intended.

“Of course,” Scott said sincerely, saving the moment.

“Um, actually, if you don’t mind, I could use a favor,”

“Anything,”

It was a lazy day for you. Stiles had woken you after a night of mind-blowing sex to tell you that he was leaving for a bit to hang with Scott. You didn’t mind. After all, you were pretty sore. You could use the extra rest.

Unfortunately, you had slept another five hours, sleeping through Stiles entire visit with Scott. You would’ve kept sleeping too, had Stiles not woken you up.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said sweetly, gently shaking your shoulder.

“Mmm,” you whined. “More sleep,”

“Baby, its almost one in the afternoon!” he laughed incredulously at you.

You sighed, peaking one eye open to look at him. “So?”

“So,” he drawled. “I have a surprise for.”

You shot up at his words. “For me? It’s not my birthday or our anniversary…”

“Come on now, I can’t surprise my lovely girlfriend just this once?” he said, tone a little smug but you didn’t mind.

“What is it?”

He smiled, holding out an envelope for you, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t nervous about it. Giving him a playful but confused look, you took the envelope and peered inside.

“Plane tickets?” you looked up at him, a smile spreading slowly. “Where are we going?”

“Everywhere. Anywhere. I’ve always wanted to travel the world, and when I found out I was a Void, I didn’t think it was possible, but with the way the world is now, I don’t see why not. I picked out our first destination, but after that, its up to you,” Stiles took your hand in his, squeezing gently. “I was also thinking that, even though I never meant to, I started this massive shift in the world. I want to do more good, and I to abolish the safe havens so that we don’t need sacred places to live. We could live wherever we want to live because we’re no different. I’m hoping with you by my side, you could help me with that.” He smiled at you hopefully, and it took you no time to think of your answer.

“Yes, yes of course!” you exclaimed, pulling him down to kiss him passionately.

“Alright, we’re leaving today. Quick! Get dressed! Start packing we’ve got a lot to do baby!” He kissed quickly again before running off, babbling on for what you and him needed to do.

In no time at all, you two found yourselves at the front gate, a bag in one hand while the other held tightly onto him.

He smiled brightly, a light in his eyes twinkling. “We could change the world, my dove,”

“Together?”

Stiles smiled down at you. “Always.”

And with that, the front gates opened for you. Hand in hand, you two walked out, ready to change the world.

Tags:

@beaubinxie @writingsbychlo @weirdowithnobeardo @0castergirl0

#stiles stilinski imagine #stiles #stiles stilinski #void stiles #void stiles smut #teen wolf #void #void x reader #void stiles x reader #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #nogistune #void stiles x reader smut

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

Text

Jij Verliest - Chapter Seven: Clip 5&6

master list

...

note: I’m sorry, I’ve given up on actually making the texts. Also I didn’t italicize the texts because everytime I do, Tumblr doesn’t always get them all for whatever reason.

...

Maandag 11:52

Chat: Broerrrs + Luc

13 July, 11:52

Jens: ROBBE. IJZERMANS. What part of ‘text us about it’ did you not understand?

Robbe: Lucas. You could’ve warned me at least.

Lucas: Sorry.

Aaron: What happened to ‘Chill Jens’?

Moyo: Caps lock must’ve been on.

Jens: Caps lock was on. Didn’t feel like changing it though. It served a purpose.

Moyo: What’s going on?

Aaron: Yeah, what do VDS know that we don’t?

Lucas: Um, do you want me to tell them?

Robbe: I can’t have one blissful Monday afternoon, can I?

Aaron: Of course not, it’s Monday.

Lucas: Robbe had a *visitor* this weekend. Someone who showed up on Friday night. And didn’t leave until this morning 👀 Should my sources be correct…

Robbe: Zoë or Milan?

Lucas: My sources are confidential.

Moyo: Please tell me it was Sander.

Robbe: Yes, it was Sander.

Moyo: Thank god. Wait, are you being serious?

Jens: Yes! And *someone* forgot to tell us.

Robbe: I’m sorry, I was busy.

Aaron: Yeah, we know what you were doing all weekend.

Robbe: Cuddling and watching Harry Potter?

Moyo: You’re boring.

Robbe: Haha 🖕🏻 Sander didn’t think so. Also, who else would it be, Moyo?

Moyo: Worst case scenario? Thomas. Best case scenario? A random one nightstand.

Jens: Thomas? As if.

Moyo: That’s why it was the worst-case scenario.

Lucas: If it was Thomas, none of us would be able to stop Jens. And I’m thankful it’s not because I’m sick of his face. And my boyfriend isn’t in jail.

Aaron: Seconded.

Moyo: Third.

Jens: You guys know I almost always agree with Lucas. But I am also sick of Thomas’s face. And I would need bail money.

Robbe: Yes, I know. I have a rotten ex-boyfriend. Luckily, I have a new one that’s ten times better.

Jens: Yes. Did he explain why he was distant?

Robbe: Yes, he did and I forgive him. I would’ve forgiven him anyway, but he did explain. And we’re together now.

Jens: Good. That’s all that matters.

Robbe: So, since we all know what *I* was doing this weekend: how were all of your weekends?

Lucas: the Netherlands was fun. Got to see Isa and the girls again. Plus, Mom kept trying to force-feed Jens. She told him he was too skinny.

Jens: She said the same thing to you. Why are you singling me out?

Aaron: Amber and I went out to lunch with her mom on Sunday.

Moyo: My girlfriend’s roommates were out on Saturday night. So we ended up cooking together. The first try was a bit of a disaster, but we managed to make something good the second time.

Robbe: That’s great. I’m glad everyone had fun.

Lucas: When are we going to meet this mystery girl, Moyo? You seem smitten.

Jens: Yeah, you do. And you call me whipped. You should see you.

Robbe: But you are whipped.

Jens: I’m not denying it. But he’s also whipped.

Lucas: You are.

Moyo: When are we going to meet Sander? As your friends, he’s just as important as you are.

Robbe: I don’t know. Probably about the same time that you introduce us to Noor.

Jens: Wait, Noor is your mystery girl?

Moyo: Aaron!

Aaron: I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING. I haven’t even told Amber!

Jens: Wait, Aaron knew about this and not me? I’m offended, bro.

Lucas: I’d like to know how Robbe knew. Because if Aaron didn’t tell Amber, he didn’t tell Robbe.

Robbe: My source is confidential.

Moyo: Robbe, I hate you.

Robbe: Don’t hate me. She’s a great girl. Plus, it’s not like you two are sly. At our movie night, you two were far more comfortable than you should’ve been.

Moyo: Yeah, you’re right.

Jens: I feel like my entire world has changed.

…

Dinsdag 17:45

When Robbe had stepped into the tattoo parlor a little before 17:00, Alicia had leapt over the edge of the counter and bounced across the empty lobby. She had tackled him, nearly causing both of them to crash onto the floor, and her electric blue ponytail smacked him in the face. Robbe recoiled slightly from the accidental slap before sinking into her embrace. Once she pulled away, she bounced on her feet, looking like she might explode from excitement.

“I’m so happy to see you here again!” she said, grinning. “I was starting to worry that I would have to deal with grumpy Sander for the rest of my life.” Robbe chuckled and Alicia smiled proudly. “But I’m glad to see that you two have made up—you did make up, right? He has just seemed happier today and yesterday and I’m assuming it’s because of you.”

Robbe laughed. “Yes, we did.”

Alicia bounced again, still grinning. “That’s great! His shift is over in a few minutes…” She trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously. “But I have a feeling that you already knew that.” While Alicia continued to eye him with playful suspicion, Robbe shrugged and grinned. “Sorry, my mom always tells me that I seem strange to people who don’t know me. It’s just I’ve heard so much about you from Sander and he’s practically family so I’m pretty protective of—”

“No, it’s okay, I understand—”

As if on cue, Sander stepped out of the hallway. Even after a long day of work, his bleach-blond hair was still immaculate and pristine. Today, he was wearing another black shirt but this one had Emilie’s Tattoo Parlor printed across his chest. He looked tired, but Robbe wasn’t surprised. He had worked the early shift.

Stopping at the desk, he placed down a binder and adjusted the strap of his bag a little higher on his shoulder. Glancing up, his eyes caught Robbe talking with Alicia. As soon as he spotted them, he grinned brightly over at them, all tiredness fading from his face, and said, “Alicia, leave my boyfriend alone.” His tone was light and teasing as he crossed the room. Sander wrapped Robbe in a hug before moving towards the parlor door. “I only have him for an hour before he has to go to work.”

“Oh right,” Alicia said, smacking her head like she forgot. She grinned at Robbe, waving goodbye at the two of them. “Have a good dinner!”

“Tell Britt hi!”

Leaving the tattoo parlor, Robbe collected his bike before following Sander down a well-tuned series of turns to their destination. With one arm around Sander’s waist and the other steering his bike, Robbe felt like he was right where he was meant to. Robbe didn’t know where they were going—just to some restaurant that Robbe had to try—but he followed Sander’s gentle tugs and guidance with ease. Once they arrived at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Robbe locked his bike up and let Sander drag him inside.

Robbe didn’t know what he had been expecting from the small restaurant, but it was one of the best pizzas that he’d ever had. As soon as they walked in, the cashier recognized Sander and proceeded to tease him about taking too long to bring his boyfriend around. When the cashier brought them their pizzas, moving before Sander could get up to get them, they were hot to the touch and fresh from the oven.

As they ate their food, Sander would reach out to feed Robbe a bite of his or brush a hand on his thigh beneath the table. Every time Sander did something, paid attention to him, his heart grew three sizes. Even so early into their relationship, he felt so cared for. Robbe tried to do the same. He would reach out to hold his knee or hold Sander’s hand beneath the table. And Sander never shied away from Robbe’s touch. In fact, he seemed to blossom with it.

As they left the restaurant, hand in hand and laughing, the cashier tried to say it was on the house for their favorite customer and his boyfriend. Robbe blushed profusely at their comment and Sander merely chuckled, thanking them. As soon as the cook called the cashier’s name, Sander quickly dropped the money to cover the order (and more) into the tip jar before dragging Robbe from the restaurant.

Even though it wasn’t that long of a ride, Sander insisted on driving Robbe back to the flatshare. Their only trouble was getting Robbe’s bike in the car, but they managed to make it work by tilting it a little. The ride itself was short and relaxing. Sander drove with one hand on the wheel and the other was wrapped gently with Robbe’s hand. As he weaved through the traffic, Sander talked in vivid detail about a tattoo that he did earlier this afternoon as Robbe listened intently.

As they pulled into a stop outside the building, Robbe got curious. “Hey, Sander.”

“Yeah?” Sander asked.

“What were you thinking about, that night at the bar?” Robbe asked.

It had been a question on Robbe’s mind for a while. His thoughts of the night were abundantly clear—okay, maybe slightly buzzed—that the random stranger with an armful of tattoos who sat down next to him and offered him a smoke and gave him an impromptu therapy session was hot. As he nursed his hangover the next morning, Robbe had briefly entertained the thought of meeting him again but Robbe had thought it was an impossible feat. Seeing Sander walk in that bar less than a week later… it had felt like a sign.

One that Robbe had been simultaneously curious and terrified of.

When Sander was quiet, simply staring at the steering wheel with a small smile on his face, Robbe added, “I’m sure that it must’ve been one hell of a crappy impression.”

Sander glanced up at him with a small look of disbelief and a scoff. “What makes you think that?” Sander teased.

Robbe turned in his seat, facing Sander with a mischievous smile on his face. He placed their joined hands in his lap, running his finger over the back of his hand. “I don’t know, but if I saw a guy sitting quite dramatically on the floor—I think that was your wording,” Robbe said and Sander laughed, “and lamenting his ex-boyfriend, it wouldn’t have been the best first impression I’ve ever made.”

“I don’t know,” Sander said. He put the car in park before turning to Robbe, who was waiting impatiently beside him. Sander tugged their joined hands back into his lap before turning Robbe’s over so the palm was facing upward. Sander trailed a finger along the lines of his palm, leaving Robbe squirming in his seat. “I think you made quite the first impression.”

This time, it was Robbe’s turn to scoff. He leaned against the leather of the car, relishing in the feeling of Sander’s doodles on his palm. “You know as well as I do, I could’ve done a lot better than bitching about my ex with someone—”

“No,” Sander said, interrupting him lightly. His voice was quiet like he was having a private conversation with himself and Robbe watched on, biting down on his lip. “That wasn’t the time I meant.”

Robbe’s eyebrows pulled tight, staring at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Sander’s eyes darted up to meet Robbe. He could see the panicked expression in his eyes, like he didn’t expect Robbe to hear his secret confession. Quickly, his expression shifted to nervous. A small lopsided grin formed on his lips as he tilted his head to the side. Sander’s hand fidgeted around his and Robbe twisted his hand around to grasp at Sander’s fingers.

“Sander,” Robbe said. “What is it?”

“Um,” Sander said, biting down on his lip. “Last August, I went to the bar with my roommates after a long day at work. While I was waiting for them to show up, I spotted this beautiful man standing at the bar talking with the owner like he did it every day.”

Sander’s eyes raised, catching his brown ones in an instant, and Robbe was certain his heart stopped in his chest. Him, Robbe realized. Sander had seen him before.

“Before I could work up the nerve to talk to him, to get the name of this beautiful man who turned my world upside down in an instant, his boyfriend showed up and whisked him away from me. I thought that was the end of it—that I missed my chance until…” Sander trailed off.

Robbe felt his stomach flip, nervous and excited. Bringing Sander’s hand to his mouth, Robbe placed a kiss against his knuckles. Sander followed him with a heavy gaze in his eyes and the corners of his lips quirked up nervously. “Until?” Robbe asked, his lips brushing against Sander’s knuckles.

“Until…” Sander continued. Robbe scooted closer to him—or as much as he could in the small confine of the car. He was practically leaning over the console, trying to get as close to Sander as he could. Sander glanced at Robbe nervously. “Until last month. It had been a rough few months, but I was starting to come out of it. It was my first time out of the apartment other than for work for a month and I looked over and saw the beautiful man in the bar again.”

Robbe giggled.

“As soon as I saw him, I knew that he was the one. My mother used to tell me that there was no such thing as a coincidence,” Sander said, reaching up to wipe a thumb across Robbe’s flushed cheeks. “She used to go on and on about how ‘what is meant for you won’t pass you by’—”

“Is that what the quote on your side is?” Robbe asked, quietly. Sander paused, staring at him. “I saw it on Saturday but your arm was covering most of it.”

Sander grinned. “Yes, it is. Now, back to the story—”

Robbe mumbled out a quiet ‘sorry’ and Sander gave him a stern look.

“When I saw that beautiful man for the second time, I knew that the universe was trying to give me a sign and I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. When I saw him head outside to get some air, I followed. But I only managed to learn his name before the universe ripped him away from me again.” He let out a heavy sigh and slumped his shoulders. “But, lucky for me, I managed to find him again, not even a week later, and I knew that I couldn’t let him get away from me again.”

“Wow,” Robbe said, breathless. Sander looked up at him with nervous eyes, staring at Robbe intensely. He let out a breath, reaching up to take Sander’s face in his hands. “You really saw me that long ago?”

“Yes,” Sander whispered. “Since the moment I saw you, I’ve wanted you, Robbe IJzermans… even before I knew what your name was.” His eyes scanned Robbe’s face. “Are you mad?”

Staring at Sander for a few seconds, Robbe hastily undid the seatbelt around him. He could see the worried look on Sander’s face, like Robbe was going to climb out and never look back, but Robbe simply climbed on the seat. His knees dug into the leather as Robbe leaned across the center to press a deep kiss against Sander’s lips. He clung to the strands of Sander’s icy blond hair, holding on for dear life, as Sander let out a grunt.

Since the beginning, Sander had always seen him. Whether it was last month outside the bar or last year inside the bar, Sander had seen him. He had seen Robbe in the comfort of his bed, in the disarray of a friendly gathering, desperate in a tattoo parlor, and so many moments in between. Robbe wanted Sander to see him in all of his moments and moods, just like he wanted to see all of Sander’s faces and facades. He wanted all of Sander, everything he could get them.

Sander’s words from last Friday came rushing back: Robbe IJzermans, since the moment that I first saw you, I have wanted you.

“So you’re not mad?” Sander asked, breaking their kiss.

Robbe shook his head, practically panting against Sander’s mouth. “No, I’m not mad.”

“Good,” Sander said, quietly. “I was worried you might be.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

Robbe moved to kiss Sander again. Robbe wanted to kiss him a little harder. Robbe wanted to pour every single emotion bursting out of his chest into the kiss for Sander—for Sander to taste—at the same intensity Robbe was experiencing from him. But, at the last second, Sander pulled away a mischievous smile on his lips and Robbe couldn’t help the whine. “What were you thinking the night that you first saw me outside the bar?”

Robbe chuckled. “I could only think of one thing—” Pausing, Robbe leaned forward. His knees were strained from this position, but he didn’t care. Stopping a hair away from connecting their lips fully, Sander glanced up at Robbe with a mischievous look in his eye as Robbe grinned. “—Fuuucccckkk, he’s so hot.”

Sander laughed but his laugh was muffled by Robbe’s lips pressing against his.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #jij verliest #chapter seven #sobbe #rosander #jij verliest fic #brenna writes #wtfock fanfiction #twitch streamer!robbe #tattoo artist!sander

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 80: The Unexpected Task

Lily's landing was actually not uncomfortable for once. She floundered in place upon her back, but it was soft material ruffling behind her whatever it was. Worry spiking if this was some sort of trap to compel her to get comfortable, she sat up abruptly, bunching the silk blanket in her hand suspiciously. She found herself in a luxury room fit for a princess.

The canopy bed was baby blue with pink lace, the pillow looked scandalously shaped perfectly for her head, there was even a thin film draping's that were almost see-through and felt cool as rain to the touch, but were blocking out almost all the light. The moment she pushed them aside, they glided away without a second thought, and she could see a window, leading out onto the Hogwarts grounds. She stood at it for a long time, seeing Hagrid's cabin in the distance, and got a strange guess of where she was, but wanted further proof. She got it almost immediately when she passed the trunk at the end of the bed wide open with Beauxbatons uniforms neatly folded inside, and The Book resting on top. They must be inside their carriage then, possibly with Fleur making a larger appearance in the coming chapter.

Inspecting the area just a bit more, she found a private bathroom that resembled a spa more than anything, and would have believed it if someone told her she spent a weeks worth of time just enjoying being by herself and not thinking of anything but how warm the water was, even if she couldn't read any of the french labels. Once she got out she swayed on her feet for a few moments with comfortable exhaustion, for once, deciding that as she'd landed in here and nobody had come to call yet, another good rest was in order. They'd all stopped plenty of times in the past with mutual sleep at hand. It took nothing else to convince her to crawl back into the strange bed and the slightest of tugs had the curtains back around her before she was out.

Frank dithered uncomfortably in the hallway. He'd grudgingly passed several open and inviting beds in the long, candelabra lit hallway just to find Alice, to assure she was alright and this wasn't some weird trap for Harry's next task, but he'd found her peacefully asleep. She'd even found a room with some muggle invention that had music playing from a big black disk she'd figured out how to work, it sounded like a nice string quartet in the whole room. However, he didn't want to assume just because they'd shared a bed together once she'd be okay with it again, especially in even more, ah, private quarters as all of these rooms seemed set for individuals. He'd just turned away and decided to just sleep in the room across, honestly the floor looked comfortable enough to nap on at this rate, when a giggle behind him made him twirl around to see she'd rolled over and was laughing herself silly at him before beckoning him to get in while wiggling to the far side of the bed.

"But Moony!" Sirius whined, managing to sound like an irritable six year old despite being ten years plus that. "Why not just take the opportunity while we can to not have to sleep in the same place as those two wankers, I quite enjoyed it last time."

"Because last time, we hardly slept a wink," he didn't need to elaborate, and was glad they hadn't found the other two yet as he couldn't quite suppress a blush. "We're finding them first you dolt."

They'd already passed several rooms containing their other quest members asleep, and Remus was just beginning to wonder if he'd passed them accidentally somehow when he came across a room with stripped bedding, and now sure at least they were thinking the same as him, he kept his hold on Sirius and dragged him along until he found what must be the equivalent of a living room in a mansion inside this pumpkin carriage. Peter was already curled up on the queen sized sofa, fidgeting with his school tie despite the fact it was loose enough to come off. James was upside down in a squashy armchair Maxime herself could stretch out in, his glasses placed carefully on top but eyes wide awake.

There hadn't been this much awkward silence between the four of them since their first year, those first few months before they'd even decided if they liked each other, let alone would become the best friends they were supposed to be. Both of them still grinned when they entered, and Sirius couldn't stop a small, albeit grudging smile as he shook his head at the lot of them, calling them sentimental fools as he snatched some covers from the floor and padded down in yet another available couch next to the purple lit fireplace that had wine goblets only half empty he'd save for breakfast. Remus barely had time to smile before he too passed out amongst the synchronized snoring, letting his feet tangle together with Sirius' but resting on the opposite arm of the couch.

Regulus stretched languidly as he awoke, still as disoriented as ever to find the light outside was exactly where it had been when he'd gone to sleep, but the comfortable bed had rivaled his own and who evers room he'd borrowed had good taste. There were posters of all of the French National Quidditch Team doing their signature move, the Blitzen Ballet, across several posters, which had been what had drawn him into the room in the first place.

He pulled some individually wrapped macaroons out of his pocket and began eating those as he went through the rest of this persons belongings, finding several textbooks all in French he couldn't follow, but not the book they needed. He didn't really fancy going through every room to find it, but he also didn't want to start until he knew everyone was awake- "The Unexpected Task." He crumpled a purple one up in his hand in surprise all over the blokes belongings. Well, clearly Evans didn't have those same reserves.

James startled awake with a yelp, flopping right out of the chair and confused for several long moments. Whoever would have thought waking up to the sound of Evans' voice would give him heart failure? The others were stirring with only slightly more dignity, he couldn't even blame Sirius when the first thing he did was reach up and snag those wine glasses to finish them off as her voice echoed around them before they'd even had morning tea.

"Evans does an impression of McGonagall telling off Harry too well," Peter groaned, trying to shove the blanket through his skull.

Remus looked like he was trying to burrow into the couch for more rest without comment, and James and Sirius woke up too hungry to really be paying much attention as their head of house held up Ron and Harry after class for something as silly as not paying attention. The two of them were busy trading a basket of fried fish back and forth and lamenting how fast it was vanishing when they simultaneously choked on the cold batter upon hearing no detention was being served, but quite the unexpected task indeed.

"Harry has to wha-?" Remus actually jerked his head free from his cocoon.

"Get a date, and dance her?" Peter repeated, inspecting the sleep he'd rubbed from his eyes as if expecting to find something else contaminating him.

"Or him," Sirius corrected with a suddenly wicked smile, "maybe he'll ask Ron, you don't know Wormy." The snide remark had slide easily from his tongue as he envisioned the fun of Hogwarts hosting something like a dance, it wasn't until he looked over to see his mate blush and stammer at the idea that he really, fully woke up. He wouldn't have believed it five seconds ago himself.

Peter was smiling to himself despite not able to look over at Sirius, and James swooped in to save the awkward silence. "Listen to this poor kid telling McGonagall he isn't going to do it! A books not good enough anymore, I'd pay money to see this in action!"

For just a moment, they all got a good laugh out of that.

They weren't the only ones, Frank and Alice were having their own fits of laughter still curled up in bed. Frank could at least sympathize with Harry though as he struggled to even conceptualize asking Cho out, he'd had a crush on Alice for months before he'd over heard her struggling with Charms and offering to tutor her. Asking her out, outright and to a dance, would have been insanity at that point. They both listened intently for any hint of what Neville would be up to during all of this. As much as they sympathized with Harry not being able to go alone because of his public dancing, they very much hoped Neville would at least be mentioned going with some friends rather than not at all.

Lily was giving herself a very hearty pat on the back for deciding to read this one alone. She was sure it wasn't just her imagination hearing the obnoxious laughter of the Marauders over this adorable idea, barely a teenager Regulus' pompous expression and possibly boasting he'd been trained to waltz before he could walk, and worst of all Frank and Alice's adoring looks at each other. She liked the both of them, more and more as they talked honestly, but her own life right now didn't leave her in a good position to be happy the only two people she could possibly count as friends during all this were dating and she felt like she was a third wheel half the time around them.

It was even more than that, if she were being honest with herself. While the idea of getting to dress up like that for the evening sounded nice in theory, she had about as much chance of going with anyone as Harry did Cho. Her heart sank for the poor lad as his crush admitted she was going with Cedric. Her prospects were even less endearing. Potter would ask her, of course, and anyone who proceeded to afterwords would likely end up in the hospital wing for one various reason or another until the offers stopped for a time again. And Sev...

She flipped the page hurriedly, it would be too obvious now if she stopped to stew over this, someone may come and see where she was and she wanted to actually enjoy this alone chance while she had it.

Regulus listened with the most absent of attention to these teenagers getting turned down left and right, the Marauders laughter echoing out into the hallway as he went exploring the rest of the carriage. Was he the only one who still remembered someone had put Harry in this tournament for more than embarrassing him? Nobody had even bothered to speculate on a suspect in ages, Regulus didn't really buy it was Karkaroff himself. It wasn't improving his mood he'd had no one to talk to in a while now, of course now that Peter had made up with his friends and they were all chummy again he'd go right back to being ignored. He should have known nothing about his life would ever really change no matter how much he heard.

He startled in surprise upon opening the next door as an orange cat came tottering out of the room, immediately twirling around his legs and purring in affection. Shaking his head in disbelief someone would bring their pet on this trip, he bent down regardless and gave a friendly scratch on the felines rump as he looked around once more, finding something new to wonder on. Why was it the pets were usually present? Magical animals as well, he reminded himself with a shiver of disgust at the basilisk. The paintings had all been present to, but he'd have never considered them as people. What was the criteria then for what was left behind as they were thrown around this place? It was something to ponder on at hand anyways, as he found himself sprawled on the floor, covered in cream colored fur while Hermione Granger dropped the surprise she'd gotten a date but wasn't telling who.

The chapter was finally coming to an end with everyone successfully getting dates, and Regulus snorted in disgust, was he the only one not obsessing with romance around here?

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #GoF #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #Regulus Black #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #James Potter #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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oumaheroes · 3 years

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Earthbound 3/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Previous chapters:

1, 2

AO3

……………………………………………………………………

Chapter 3: A World In Orbit

Someone, he would love to know who, found out at some point after their ship had set off from where he boarded that Alfred has a background in engineering. Once this fatal slip occurred it was only a matter of time for someone else to go digging for his name through all of the records out there, through the collections shared by each and every human colony, and find his qualifications and work history. That was that, in their eyes.

Now they, they being anyone who needs anything fixing or mending, won't stop bugging him, trying to cajole him into moving division and come and work in engineering again. Even the head of engineering for the ship himself comes to ask after him personally for a big job that needs doing.

'I don't understand!' the man waves his arm angrily, in frustration, and frowns at Alfred who slouches lower in his chair, refusing to make eye contact. Matthew sits stiffly in the alcove in the corner, unnoticed, and observes the proceedings with mounting apprehension.

'With your skills you're set for life! Heck, I'd give you a permanent position on this ship with the experience you're sitting on! I'm not even asking for much, not for someone like you.'

With that, Alfred reacts. 'Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?'

'Someone as gifted as you! I've heard all about what you've done and where you've worked. You being from where you're from is enough, not many planets specialise kids like that, you know. You're practically a gold mine just in and of yourself.'

Alfred bites his lip, tastes the disappointment. He imagines his parents, his teachers, and tries to keep his own wants in mind in the face of such familiar, haunting logic.

The head of engineering takes Alfred's silence as a rejection and tries again. 'Look, I'm not asking you to work for me forever, and I'll pay you well for this time. I'll even put in a good word for you for further work on Earth, if it goes to plan.'

It's tempting, the stability of a job is promising, but Alfred has been in this particular cycle before and knows the routine, one job leads to another which leads to another and before you know it, life has passed you by. Well, Alfred broke out once, he's not planning on going back.

He shakes his head but concedes to look the other man in the eyes, giving him to respect he's entitled to. He is, after all, not at fault here, he's right to be confused.

'Sorry, I appreciate the offer, really, but I'm done with that line of work.'

The man shakes his head and sighs. He has the grace to accept Alfred's answer, but it seems that he won't go down without causing as much damage as he can. Maybe it's as if by making Alfred doubt himself he can mop up and salvage the damaged pieces. 'There's nothing for ya in history, you know that, right? They need man power down there; they've got a colony to stabilise-' stable stable stable '-and they're gonna need people to do real work. Essential stuff. What's digging about in some dirt gonna do for them?'

It's nothing Alfred hasn't heard before, nothing that he doesn't already think to himself at night as he lays in the quiet, but it's sharp nonetheless.

Seed hopefully planted, the engineer leaves. After a beat of silence Matthew gets up and sidles over to sit besides Alfred before turning to him indignantly.

'Fuck him.' Matthew is rarely this outspoken and Alfred blinks at him in surprise. 'Who gave him the right to decide what's essential? They've already got all the 'essential' people down there otherwise the colony would have failed. Well, it hasn't, has it? So there's room for people like us, too.'

Alfred suddenly understands, it's not just Alfred Matthew is speaking for, but for himself as well. The understanding of animals does not a colony make, who needs information about bears when there's food needing to be grown?

'We benefit mankind in other ways, Alfred. And you know, if it doesn't work then we do something else. But you fixing whatever he's fucked up on this ship does not change that, so screw him.'

Alfred looks, looks for a sign that perhaps Matthew is saying all this only to convince himself or to make himself feel better about his own decisions, but Alfred finds nothing but sincerity and true belief. He gives him a beaming smile. 'There's a reason I like you, Matt.'

Matthew blushes and his lips twitch, but his face remains just as serious as he waits for a response. Alfred laughs loudly, claps him on the back and then stands, pulling Matthew up with him. 'Come one, let's get dinner. I'll buy! And you're right, we're gonna be just fine.'

Despite his bravado, that night the engineers words are hissed in his parents' voices and he dreams of cables and rivets curling out of the ancient bones in the dirt to drag him down to join them.

……………………………………………………………………

Being on Earth is simultaneously the best and worst thing Peter can think of which could have happened to him.

After so long on a ship and so long before that in the confined spaces of domes and tunnels Peter doesn't quite know what to do with himself when he's finally allowed outside to see what had previously been just a far off hope. It's weird, when he was younger he'd never thought of himself as being restricted in any way, everywhere always had enough room and his school playground was huge, big enough to run in and host multiple games at once. But now he realises that his preconception of what 'large' really meant is well off. Earth is huge. It is huge, and he knows that whilst the patch of land which makes up their colony is small in the grand scheme of things it's still more room than he's ever dared to think about before. The fields around him go on forever, the sky stretches up to unimaginable heights and there's so much colour and sound to take in that Peter almost feels detached from it all as his senses are overloaded.

Despite all of this, despite once again having a home, despite his dream coming true and despite his long journey finally being over, Peter finds himself slightly disappointed, he supposes, or just too accepting of everything, and this makes him feel irrevocably guilty. It's not a normal reaction, he's on Earth after all, and he worries that maybe there's something wrong with him; everyone else seems to drink the outside in with hungry eyes and beaming faces and although he's overjoyed he's not as happy as he thought he'd be, like there's something missing but nothing that he can put his finger on. Even his parents are joyful, they haven't argued since they disembarked from the shuttle and are spending their free time eagerly planning on how they'll decorate their new house, once they're finally given one.

They're sitting in the communal canteen of the Arrivals' house and looking at housing options on his dad's e-tab, his mother leaning over the table and swiping through the gallery and she looks so carefree and relaxed lately that Peter hasn't yet been able to bring himself to talk to her about how he feels. Besides, he worries about what she'd say, or think. Despite not liking how he feels, and although he knows that this isn't usual, he doesn't want to make them think that he doesn't appreciate where he is or that he's being difficult. After all, he is happy. But...

'Peter?'

Peter looks up at his dad's voice to find his father staring at him slightly concerned. He realises that he's stirring the cereal-less leftover milk in his bowl aimlessly and hastily drops his spoon.

His father gives him a wary smile. 'You doing okay there, Petey-boy?'

Peter nods. 'Yeah, just tired.'

His parents share a look and his mother shifts to face him. 'Peter, we know that we've been a bit preoccupied with the house lately and, well, we've been thinking about how we can make it up to you.'

His father nods enthusiastically, 'Yep, I know we've not really been anywhere yet and me and your mother were thinking, how would you like to go on a short trip?'

Peter frowns. 'A trip?'

'Just a short one,' his mother adds, 'Only for a few days.'

'And not too far.' His father interjects.

'And not too far. But you've been so good about all of this that we feel as though you deserve something special. You always did say you liked to see the ocean-'

Ah.

'-so we were talking about going to the beach and camping out there by the shore. It's not too far away, I know, but it'll be a nice change from the colony buildings, hmm?'

His dad winks at him. 'What do you say? Fancy it?'

He can see it, he can see the waves and the colours and how the spray is lifted by the wind; smells the salt in the air and tastes it on his tongue as sea birds screech overhead and the water roars.

'Peter?'

'Yes!' His voice is too loud, a couple from the table over look their way curiously but Peter doesn't care.

'Yes! Please, I'd love to go, can we go soon? Will we stay there the whole time? By the sea?'

His parents chuckle good naturedly and tell him yes, next weekend and yes, right by the sea, and then, just as if the conversation never happened, they go back to looking at window sizes and colour schemes whilst Peter sits there dumbstruck.

The sea. The sea, the sea, the sea, oh God how had he forgotten the sea. Everything here was so green and there were so many other new things to look at that it had completely slipped his mind that of course the sea, he needed to see the ocean. The thing is, he didn't realise that he'd needed it that much, didn't realise he cared so deeply or longed for it so much, but his heart thumps quickly at the idea of the blue blue water and he knows that that's what he mainly thought of when he used to dream of Earth.

Not the land, but the sea.

……………………………………………………………………

When he's finally allowed outside, Francis really doesn't know what to look at or touch first. It's so bright, he could never have even dreamt that sunlight could be like this; the colours are the same but the hues and tones and so vibrant and there's so much to see that Francis just staggers to a stop, arms dangling limply by his side as Arthur disappears into a tide of plants.

The light dances and bounces off dust in the air and he's surrounded by movement no matter how still it is because there's always a glint or a shine and there's so much to take in that his eyes don't know where to look and stay, so he settles for spinning about in a dizzy attempt to take in it all. He goes back in after a good hour of mindlessly ambling and grabs his camera, and over several trips outside, when he's finally not working, he takes photos to capture it all; the way the light hits a tree and spills over the ridges in the bark, the way the shadows collect behind the bumps and dips in the stone, the way the light catches the green in Arthur's eyes as he stares out to the sea which borders the rocky cliffs he likes to sit on.

He buys more e-frames than he needs and puts the photos' data inside to hang up. Arthur scoffs at this because one, you can put unlimited photos in an e-frame, stupid, and because two, he hasn't yet got a house to hang them in. He's got his little bunk in the room he shares with Arthur at the landing site but the civilian homes aren't yet ready to accommodate everyone and who knows how long he'll have to wait for one of his own; unmarried and childless he's certainly not a priority. But Francis doesn't care, instead he takes more photos and buys more frames and Arthur starts to find them huddled in his drawers now too, sat proudly atop his socks and clothes.

Arthur can't really complain too much though, because he likes to collect flowers. Francis thinks that that is stupid because the flowers die and by picking them you're technically ruining the point of flowers but he keeps quiet because when Arthur comes back after a day of flower foraging he has this silly little smile on his face that Francis has about five photos of, all tucked into one, well hidden, e-frame.

The one day, when Francis is at work, huddled in with soil deposits, he gets a call from an emotional sounding Arthur. Immediately, he panics because if Arthur displays any sort of intense emotion there's usually cause for concern and at the moment Arthur breathless with something.

'I've got a house!'

Suddenly, the air is sucked out of him. 'What?'

Arthur gives a light, airy laugh, he can't find the words to adequately express all that he is feeling but he is so happy; Francis can hear that clearly enough. 'I got a house. Fuck, Francis- I got a house.'

Francis leans heavily against the wall, he is in the corridor of the geology building, where he'd run to when Arthur called. His tongue feels thick in his mouth, moving it is hard. 'Congratulations. Why'- why you, why you and not me, don't leave me behind '-how did you get one so quickly?'

Arthur snorts dismissively. 'God knows, I applied the same time as you.'

Why does this hurt him so much? Why is this so hard to deal with? They'd both applied, Francis himself had been the one to collect the forms for them both from the Commons building so why did the prospect of it actually happening cause him to feel as though he'd just swallowed a brick?

'When do you get to move in?' He manages through a jaw made of stone. He can't seem to move his eyes from the window; a bird sits on a branch on the tree to the right and the sun glints on its eyes as it turns and Francis- Francis can't, he-

'We're allowed to next week, but we can go and have a look at it tomorrow.'

'We?'

There's a choking sound and Arthur doesn't speak for a while. Francis has to prod him to make sure he's still there. 'Arthur?'

'I- I mean, well I wasn't going to say it now and I suppose it doesn't really matter either way if you don't want, but I was thinking, you know, because it already works, as it is, our housing situation that is, so it makes sense to but of course it's up to you-'

'Arthur,' despite himself, despite his brain screaming at him not to jump to conclusions, there's a smile on his face and Francis finds himself daring to wonder if maybe... 'Arthur are you asking me to move in with you?'

There's a funny little noise on the other end. 'W-well I'm not asking anything, I'm just saying that seeing as we already manage to live together without killing each other that it would help other people who are waiting for a house, if we shared one, that is. Not that I'm expecting you to say yes, of course, but-'

'I'd love to.' Francis can't stop himself from grinning and ducks his face down to stare at his shoes in case any of his colleagues see him looking so giddy.

'Well,' starts Arthur, 'good, I suppose.' A pregnant pause. 'Bye.'

With that, he's gone and Francis is left alone, smiling stupidly at his feet.

They move in together, into their nice little house, and despite there being two bedrooms and despite what he had said, Arthur sleeps in the same bed as Francis does; there are flowers in the kitchen and e-frames everywhere and Francis feels that void inside of him shrink and close, little by little.

……………………………………………………………………

After two years of being mostly feeling as though his legs have turned to jelly and his stomach lead, Ludwig is more than a little overwhelmed to hear that they're going to be landing within days. He hears about it over the intercom and on his e-tab newsfeed before Gilbert bursts through the door with delighted whoops. His brother never had been good at being cooped up, on the space station at least he could take his shuttle and go on drives with his friends but on a big voyage with a time constraint like this all commercial travel has been stopped, lest anyone get left behind. Not that Gilbert has had enough time to himself do so anything of the sort anyway.

Despite Gilbert's infectious enthusiasm and glee, Ludwig can't quite stop worrying about what if. What if they've come all this way for nothing? What if, after all Gilbert has given up, despite what he says about the matter, he can find no rest on Earth either?

He doesn't have much chance to worry too much though because before he knows it they've stopped and Gilbert is throwing things into cases whilst Ludwig does his bit folding clothes and generally tidying up after the whirlwind his brother leaves behind.

The day they're moved from ship to shuttle, belongings already sent ahead, is luckily a good day. Ludwig and his stomach feel perfectly fine, well enough to stay and move about as normal, and more than capable of pulling his brother back from where he tries to crane over people's heads to get to the window. He pulls him down to sit and wait, legs jittery and foot jumping where he's resting it on his knee.

Gilbert looks first at it, then at him, and grips his shoulder tightly. 'It'll be awesome, you'll see.'

'Hmm.' Ludwig's sure it will and Gilbert's right, if nothing else just seeing and experiencing Earth is worth coming all this way. But he hopes that's not the only thing that they gain from this.

Gilbert understands and doesn't press him for more, instead he claps him on the back and then manages to control himself and sit still, letting Ludwig process things in his own time.

All too soon, the clouds obscuring the view from the windows clear to show expanses of green growing ever larger. A collective gasp goes up from the people in the shuttle as people catch sight of it and Ludwig momentarily forgets to be concerned because he himself is drawn in by the sight. Such a colour, and so much of it; how anything can be this beautiful is beyond him. He comes to his senses because Gilbert is breathing noisily in his ear where he's leant into Ludwig's space to see.

He turns to brush him away in irritation and there it is; a jolt and they've landed.

There's silence. No one knows quite what to do, it's not quite registered yet and so everyone just sits spellbound in their seats, hands gripping whomever's next to them. Their driver, or one of them, opens the door to the passenger cabin and informs them that they can disembark and suddenly there's a massive scramble of movement as people rush to the doors. Gilbert and Ludwig wait for the worst to pass and then they stand cautiously before making their way to the door. Gilbert goes first and Ludwig stands still, watching for a second before stepping out of the door, away from artificial gravity and onto solid ground.

Oh.

Ludwig gasps sharply. There's such a pressure, such a force pushing him to the ground that it takes him a moment to balance himself. Looking up he can see people ahead of him staggering into the Arrival's building, legs bent and head bowed to watch their toes. Gilbert is no better, he is picking up one leg at a time, lifting it high experimentally before placing it back down again and moving forward. He looks like he's just shat himself from the back, but when he stops and spins about to search for Ludwig the look on his face is ecstatic.

Ludwig grins back giddily because he's aware, all at once like a light turning on, that he feels amazing. More than that, he feels invincible. His legs are already aching with the stain and want to buckle beneath him but his stomach, his blessed fucking stomach is steadier than he's ever felt it. Is this how people are supposed to feel? Is this how people feel everyday; what 'normal' feels like? He swings his head to look behind him at their shuttle, then back to Gilbert and laughs out loud because the Earth stays still. It doesn't swing and pitch, his head doesn't buzz and his stomach doesn't turn not even slightly and Ludwig throws back his head and laughs.

Gilbert comes rushing back to him, or as fast as rushing his legs can currently do for him, and tackles him into a tight hug, shaking him from side to side and squeezing the air out of him.

'Yeah? Yeah?'

Ludwig presses his wet eyes and smile into his brother's shoulder and manages a soft, watery, 'yeah.'

Gilbert sniffs wetly and releases one arm to scrub at his eyes. 'Fuck. Fuck Lud, that's awesome.'

Ludwig doesn't even try to compose himself. 'Yeah.'

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