#i . these scars remind you why remain kind ‚ body .

[inkdrinkerworld]

Talk Too Much

Pairing: Remus Lupin x loud but shy!reader

Cw: college!au, fluff, kind of friends to lovers, obliviousness by Remus for a while, drinking (mentioned), smoking (cigarettes), I think that’s it

Wc: 2.2k

You’re a loudmouth. Through and through. Of all your friends, you honestly think you and James would be the ones to never shut up or run out of words.

That is until Remus transfers into the school and infiltrates your friend group and suddenly you find the words can run out.

It’s not on purpose.

It seems to take you over purely by coincidence- the way your throat gets dry and your tongue seems too heavy to form the words you want to get out when Remus seems to be paying attention to only you. His gaze isn’t unwelcome- that’s the entire problem.

You like the feeling of being what he looks at, but it feels too good, too natural.

His honey eyes that are just lightly flecked with green, and his sharp jawline that’s adorned with silvery scar tissue that somehow makes him even more handsome.

He’s also always got a cigarette to fiddle with.

You’ve only seen him smoke twice, and had been mesmerised by the way his cheeks hollow and how he blows the smoke out and it seems to curl around him like it’s unable to obey his exhales in the opposite direction.

He reminds you in a way of Charlie Dalton and Stephen Meeks.

Fctional characters who Remus seems to emulate in his confidence (from Charlie) and a sort of confidence that’s self-assured yet mild at the same time (a mix of the two) and that in itself makes you fall a little more for him.

It’s overwhelming- this attraction to him. It confuses you and has you tripping over words in your head, far less for if you voiced them and all that was heard were clunky excuses for sentences.

What makes your sudden bouts of silence obvious is the fact that your friends have caught onto you.

It’s not like it’s exceptionally hard to decipher either- you’re not really good at being subtle.

You suspect James and Sirius are taking bets on when it’ll all be too obvious for everyone to walk around it and you desperately hope that it takes months while simultaneously hoping it takes only weeks.

Remus notices the way your body freezes when you realise you’ve caught his attention in your storytelling. In his mind, it’s because you don’t like him.

The way you shrink down and suddenly go silent the moment his eyes set upon you, the way you remain quiet even though he sees the way the corners of your mouth twitch with something to say.

He thinks he’s put you off somehow, especially when the second he’s gone a little ways away to get a drink or get his lunch, you seem to perk right back up and dive into storytelling once more.

It bothers him so much he asks Sirius about it- a mistake in itself, because Sirius only pokes fun at his friend.

“If you can’t realise why she goes silent the moment you stare at her Lupin, I can’t help you.” Sirius walks off leaving Remus even more perplexed, moreso when he hears Sirius says, “How’s he so thick for someone doing so many higher classes?”

It bewilders Remus for weeks, your always sudden vows of silence and then your equally sudden broken vows.

You’re all at a house party when it comes to an almost end.

You’re dressed pretty like always, a skirt that hugs all the places Remus longs to touch and a top that shows a sliver of your stomach and Remus catches a glimpse of jewellery hanging in your navel.

Your ears have a pair of hanging bat earrings, and your necklace is your standard one- he’s sure he’s never seen you without it.

You’re smiling and laughing with Marlene and Mary as you walk in. Remus wants to figure out why you dislike him so, he desperately wants to change your sour opinion of him. He’s going to at least try to do so tonight, if you can stomach looking at him.

“C’mon losers,” James’ loud voice is unmistakable, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”

Remus is only approaching when he hears your teasing,

“Are we taking a blast back to Year 9 Jamie?”

James nods, “Yeah we are, and would you look at that you and Lupin are up first.” You’re sure there’s an evil little grin on James’ face when you look up and find Remus standing there in his soft brown sweater and jeans.

You can smell a little of the cigarette he’d smoked before coming in, but mostly you smell his citrus, pepper and amber cologne.

It’s heady and you swear your brain gets a little drunk on it.

“Get going you two,” Sirius teases and you sigh standing.

Remus’ mind is reeling, wondering how he’s going to get back at Sirius and James and the rest of your friends that he knows are in on this too.

Out of ear shot of your friends as you both go to the nearest room, Remus says lowly, “You don’t have to come in. I’ll just tell them we talked.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and Remus takes your surprise as a moment to admire you up close. He counts three beauty marks near your right eye, another on your neck just under your chin, and one on your nose. He’s distracted by you for a good long while that he doesn’t register you’ve spoken till he sees you walk into the room and gesture for him to follow.

It’s tense, a silence neither of you are sure how to break.

You think Remus is the most gorgeous man to be placed on the Earth, and Remus thinks you find him repulsive.

You watch Remus climb onto the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles as his back presses against the headboard.

His casualness makes him look even more attractive and while you’re aware that you’re staring at him, you can’t make yourself stop.

‘Now or never,’ he thinks to himself before asking, “Have I offended you somehow?”

There it is, laid open and bare. The question hangs in the air, like the most tantalising yet foreign fruit you’ve ever seen.

“No?” It comes out like a question. One Remus takes as a chance to explain.

“It’s just that you’re always talking or telling a story with the others, and as soon as I’m near earshot you go silent and you can’t meet my eyes. So I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve offended you, and I just wanted to say sorry for if I did- directly or indirectly.”

Remus’ attractiveness has been upped by a thousand- you’re sure all the love deities are having a laugh at your hopelessness.

You can’t meet his eyes now, even as you sit on the bed, so close to him that your biceps brush each other’s. “You haven’t offended me.”

Your voice is much softer than he’s ever heard it. Remus thinks this must be the softest you’ve ever spoken in your whole life.

“I haven’t?” he asks and you shake your head. Hazarding a glance at him, you find Remus leaning his shoulder down, his chin tucked as his eyes roam your frame.

“N-no,” your stutter gives you away slowly. “You’re just different from the others.” It’s not a clearer explanation, but the gears are turning in Remus’ head all the same and you can tell.

“Different how?” Remus doesn’t want to assume anything and that’s what causes the gears to come to a screeching halt.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Remus has never seen you this unsure. Everything you do is with confidence and ease, like you were just made to walk, talk and move the way that you do. Like it was as easy as breathing.

Maybe it’s the way you take your time to consider your words, or the way you fiddle with your clothes or even the way your breathing changes as he leans just a bit closer that makes Remus smile a little.

“Will you look at me for a second, darling gwerthfawr?” The softness of his tone and the way his accent changes to something a little more melodic makes you more jelly-like than you usually are in his presence.

“Hm?” you hum and Remus smirks. Silvery slithers of scar tissue moving with his mouth and making him look wicked in a way that has you falling a little more in love with him.

“Why don’t you like looking or speaking to me?”

Remus doesn’t let you turn away, doesn’t let you tuck your cheek to your shoulder as you deliberate what you want to say. No, instead, the menace holds your chin and stares at you, holding your gaze and making your brain cloud even more as his cologne and attention wash over you.

“I like looking at you,” you admit shyly, the confession coming from your lips with hesitation. Like Remus will be repulsed by the fact that you like looking at him. “But you make me nervous.”

The words are suspended in the quiet of the room. All there is the muffled sounds of the party going on in the living room, and then yours and Remus’ breathing.

“I make you nervous?”

Sirius and James burst through the door, wide smiles that turn into shocked smirks at your positions.

“Well love birds, sorry but your seven minutes are up.” Remus staggers in letting your chin go, but when his fingers slacken, you leave the room, belly in knots in the almost wordy confession.

“So, how’d that go?” James asks him as you bend the corner- he’s sure that Lily and the other girls will be doing the same with you.

Remus flops on the bed, “Nothing that concerns you two gits.” His mind is racing with possibilities of finishing this conversation.

Sirius boos, “After all that planning to get you two in here and snogging each other’s faces off, that’s the thanks we get?” Walking out with James who’s shaking his head.

-

“But you make me nervous,” repeats in his head for days. He’s not dense by a mile, but Remus has a hard time figuring out what about him makes you nervous.

Sure he’s tall and a little serious, but he’s not as intimidating as he’d first thought Sirius was. Remus doesn’t want to turn to his friends, sure they’d tease him endlessly for being ‘thick,’ and then more than likely tell you and that would just make you even more nervous to look or speak to him at the very least.

What Remus does do, is consult the best person he knows that will give him impartial advice; books.

There’s always a book for any occasion, so he delves deep. Behavioural analysis books, books on people with social anxiety (which he doesn’t think you have because it’s just him that gets the selective mutism) and even at the end of it, he turns to romance novels. Something must stand out.

It comes to a head when Remus comes to the library when you’re busy typing away at your essay. You feel the presence, the warmth of his pepper and amber cologne as he pulls the seat out beside you.

Remus doesn’t say a word as he sits down. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begins typing at the same essay prompt you’re working on.

You’re hyper aware of everything he’s doing- every breath, every sigh, every harsh backspace and enter.

Remus doesn’t seem to be half as affected as you are and it has you whispering, “What are you doing here, Remus?”

He hums, tapping his forefinger near the touchpad. He finishes his sentence and then turns to you. “Working on that essay due tomorrow.”

You frown, lips pulled downwards as you think of your next words. “You know what I mean, why are you sitting beside me?”

Remus sighs, head hanging off the back of the chair. “I want you to not be nervous around me anymore. I also want to know why I make you nervous.”

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

Remus turns to look at you and the amber lighting of the library makes his skin look sunkissed and supple. His honey and sage eyes blink owlishly at you, no sign of rushing you along for an answer.

That was something you had learnt while silently watching Remus. He’s always actually listening- not just listening to respond.

“Because,” you start, eyes darting all over his face in search of any insecurity in it. “You always seem so hyper focused on what it is I’m going to say next and it flusters me.”

Remus’ face morphs into a smile, his lazy expression from before melting away as his eyes warm to your embarrassed whisper.

“So it’s not dislike?” He asks, hands itching to tip your chin up like he had the other night.

“Are you going to make me say it out loud?”

“Poor girl,” he feels much more confident now. Now that he knows for sure that you don’t hate him and that you might actually like him as much as he likes you, he can be a little more flirty.

His hand reaches for your wrist, thumb running back and forth around your pulse.

You scowl, more than a little bashful to have exposed your feelings to Remus. He doesn’t mind.

No, Remus feels over the moon. Enough so that his hand moves from your wrist and his forefinger hooks under your chin so you’re making eye contact again.

“I like you too. Just as much,” it’s his turn for a whispered confession and you hope to all hell that he can’t feel the thundering of your pulse. “Maybe more.”

You feel your body buzz under his attention. Remus leans in closer, “Let me take you out after this? We can go somewhere quiet and have a proper ‘first’ conversation.”

[geeks-universe]

The Fallen pt. 5

Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Warnings: smut, idk normal apocalypse type stuff

A/N: I’m not super happy with this chapter so I’m probably gonna edit it again later

Tag List: @lacontroller1991 @giggle-shade @tesha-i-guess @looneylooomis @pookiesnatcher @jayden-okayden @dovefeatheredraven @angelcritterz

Sometime during the night, when there were no doubts or fear, Cooper had pulled you closer into him, his chest firmly against your back, legs tangled in a mess of warmth.

Inevitably, when the memories of your long life crept in and dragged you from your peaceful slumber, you awoke to the smell of gunpowder and blood. Cooper’s arm was tight around your middle, holding you close, like he was afraid you’d slip away during the night.

You allowed yourself a brief moment, made longer by your own indulgence, where you let yourself feel.

Long gone were your doe eyes and breathless smiles. The world you inhabited required a steel stomach and an unbendable spine. For the past two centuries you’d denied yourself that spark, the bit of yourself that always felt so much- too much.

Your heart was a traitorous thing, had always been far too bright. Once, you’d prided yourself on that, on the love for others that was just so effortless.

You doubted yourself now, thought that maybe you didn’t even know what love was. Maybe you were just a sanctimonious asshole who didn’t care about others, just wanted to ride the high of moral superiority.

It was hard to think that, to view yourself as incapable of love, when the warm, even breaths of Cooper Howard on the back of your neck pumped fire through your veins.

Could it be possible, for you to feel affection- love- for him?

There was some amount of fondness, to be sure- something in the way your heart fluttered, your eyes gravitated to him.

But love?

You’d never been in love. You had loved before, many people in your life, but not romantically.

Not the kind that would put you on your knees.

“You look lost, sister.”

Amenadiel’s voice was deep, concerned.

You heaved a sigh, rolling out of Cooper’s arms. The corners of your lips turned down at the loss of him, body protesting your isolation.

“Twice in the same year, that has to be a record.”

The amusement in your voice wasn’t matched by your brother, his dark eyes trained on the man that’d been cuddled up to you for half the night.

“You should be careful,” he cautioned you, and though he kept his stature straight, you could see the worry in the tenseness of his arms, the tightening of his jaw.

You were his baby sister. Generally angels were unconcerned with the affairs of man- more spectator than intervenor. They remained in their realm, governing over humans only after they’d lived their mortal lives.

You, Lucifer, and Amenadiel were exceptions.

Three sides of the same coin, three siblings, three realms- heaven, hell, and earth.

“Since when have you ever cared about my choices?”

It was unfair, a poisonous comment from the lips of a little girl who was still bitter about the way life turned out.

Amenadiel had visited you, more so than any sibling. Granted, you and Lucifer had been given more than just proverbial prisons. After his return to hell, some years before the world turned to shit, he had been caught in a trap once again, unable to leave the confines of hell.

And you…

Well, your wings were tattered, brutal scars to remind you of what you were, but to never let you leave.

Clipped wings for a trapped bird.

“I’ve always cared.”

There was a softness there, in the way his eyes dropped. He was an undeniably intimidating man, but he’d always brought himself to your level when he spoke to you, almost scared of you seeing him as anything other than an overbearing, yet loving, big brother.

“Why are you here?”

The question wasn’t as venomous as the last, genuine curiosity momentarily winning out over an never ending feud.

“What happened to you?”

His question was so sudden, like he’d been holding onto it for a lifetime, waiting for the right time to get his answer.

“You were God’s Golden Warrior, his most fierce and compassionate child.”

An angry humor burned its way up your throat, culminating in something halfway between a laugh and a growl. Amenadiel, as patient as ever, let the rage light up your features.

“What happened?” You stood then, your full height not even nearing your brother’s, but there was no denying the spark of intimidation in your stance.

You’d been God’s Golden Warrior first, then Hell’s Champion.

Titles given not by privilege, but by prowess.

There were few who were capable of moving with such speed and precision as you. Your body and mind were weapons, capable of a destruction you never sought out.

Instead, you chose to be a healer, to let the divinity that flooded your veins be used for good.

You couldn’t heal now, not since the day the bombs fell- since you fell- and that bit of knowledge hurt worse than the disappointment on Amenadiel’s face, but just barely.

“Look at this place,” your voice rose with your anger, a sneer on your lips. “At them.”

Your brother did.

Guilt flashed in his eyes, followed by quiet acceptance.

“I watched this happen. We all watched this happen.”

It was so fucking hard to get Amenadiel to understand the thoughts that plagued your every move. Anger was easy, it shadowed the guilt and overwhelming sadness, like a rabid animal protecting its den.

Why couldn’t he see it? Why couldn’t any of them see it?

“We do not dictate their lives,” he reminded you sternly, his arms crossing over his chest.

Your heart squeezed at the image of him, at the same expression he’d given to you so many times in your youth, bewildered with your silly antics.

“No, we just let billions of people suffer for the mistakes of a few,” you muttered bitterly.

The air, nearly frozen in time with the power of Amenadiel, grew thick with an exhausted argument. For millennia it’d been like this, each visit ending in similar disappointment. Maybe the damage was irreparable, maybe you would never reconnect with him the way you once did.

“Don’t forget who you are.”

And with that, he was gone.

You were left to your own musings once more, time ticking by like normal once again.

His words shouldn’t have bothered you, shouldn’t have crawled deep into your skin and taken root in your chest, but they did.

Don’t forget who you are.

Your legs twitched, a reminder of the position you’d been in less than a day ago.

Cooper had dropped you to your knees and you’d just let him.

You’d let him take whatever pleasure he wanted from you, had let him pump his anger into you until he’d thrown his head back with his release.

Your thoughts simmered, then blistered, dissatisfaction rearing its head.

You were not his toy, his little plaything to use as he pleased.

That little display had been for his benefit, but it wasn’t who you were. If he wanted you, he’d have to earn you.

You were gone before either of your companions awoke, Maze following closely behind as you prepared some rations for Lucy and Cooper.

Food wasn’t something you’d had in a long time.

Truthfully, you didn’t need it. Without eating, you’d survive, just as unchanged as the past several thousand years- water too. However, it hurt.

You still felt hunger, thirst, just as a human did. It didn’t debilitate you, or even make you unwell, you just felt a constant pain, an ache you couldn’t consciously fill. Humans needed food and water to survive, to even stand a fighting chance.

So, you lived in that pain.

You sighed, holding out your palm with a little bit of spare canned meat for Maze. The dog took it graciously, scarfing down the humble portion.

Lucy and Maze were easier to understand and interact with. Honestly, they were a bit refreshing. Well, Lucy was, Maze was very much a good dog, but that was usually the case.

Good humans?

Well, those were in pretty short supply these days.

It was easy to understand though, and you gave humans a lot of grace. After all, this world was a hard place that took and took, relentless in its efforts to either strike you down or make you another monster in the cog of the apocalypse.

“That smells better than I thought anything on the surface could,” Lucy mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

She sat up slowly, bringing her knees to her chest as you passed her the sad excuse for a meal.

“Eat up, it’ll be a long day,” you told her, scratching Maze’s chin as you lounged a little more comfortably.

The instinct to spread your wings stretched at your spine, tamped down only by the presence of your new friend.

She hummed contentedly, taking a few bites slowly, like she was both savoring the flavor and debating on asking a question.

It seemed her curiosity won out as she swallowed another bite.

“Where will you go after I find my dad?”

You let the inquiry hang in the air as you thought on it, idly tapping your fingers on the top of your knee. You hadn’t given it a lot of thought, too focused on trying to give someone a happiness you could never have.

Maybe it’d heal a piece of yourself in the process.

“I don’t really know,” you admitted slowly, cautiously.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Cooper stir. He was awake, even if he pretended not to be.

You wouldn’t call him out though. If he wanted to listen in, so be it.

“You could-“ she paused, shaking off a bit of dust before she continued. “If you wanted to, you could come with me to my vault.”

The control Cooper always had a desperate hold on reared out of his hands, his body shooting up as if he’d woken up in a startle. You didn’t answer Lucy, didn’t bother to tell her if only because you knew it’d drive Cooper mad.

And he looked particularly put out as he grabbed his own portion of the food.

Where Lucy was well mannered and talkative, Coop took exactly what he needed and didn’t bother with conversation.

You sighed, getting to your feet and slinging your pack back on.

“Now that everybody’s had their breakfast, let’s get moving.”

Lucy was quick to join you, worry and fear chewing at her with each day that passed by. There wasn’t much left to the journey, about a day and a half if you had to guess, but there was a fairly important stop you wanted to make first.

“We’re going to make a stop tonight,” you commented, not bothering to check if Coop was following as you started making your way away from your temporary camp.

“And then we’ll be there tomorrow?” Lucy confirmed.

Your nod was enough of a confirmation for her, and instead of leaving her to her own devices, to stew in the depths of her concern, you engaged in conversation with her.

It was unimportant, for the most part, just questions about her family and her interests.

She’d told you about her brother, Norm, who she clearly had a deep affection for. Then she talked about her dad, and how close they’d been.

It was so… normal. Mundane. Domestic.

Before the war, you weren’t as involved with humans. You’d always kept them at a bit of a distance, scared to engage.

(And considering the first time you’d really tangled yourself in human affairs they claimed you to be the daughter of Zeus, married you to a Spartan, then started an entire pointless war over the male ego- you weren’t quick to re-enter society.)

But, eventually, with the help of Lucifer, you’d made friends. Integrated yourself, if you will.

Life had been a dream then, loneliness chased away by your friends and family. Lucifer had Chloe and Rory, Amenadiel had Linda and Charlie. Maze tormented you daily with very painful sparring sessions. (With the utmost love in her heart, mind you.)

Then Lucifer had been forced to return to hell, chained to his responsibility in the afterlife. Not long after, the world went to shit and the friends you’d had were all whisked away in some form or fashion, to hell or to heaven, depending on if they were Team Lucifer or Amenadiel.

You’d recognized the faraway look in Cooper’s expression too, like her explanation of her life was forcing him to face his own past.

Briefly, you wondered what that looked like.

He hadn’t really told you anything about his family. Hell, before the past couple of weeks you hadn’t told him anything about yours either.

Then, before Lucy could ask too many questions about the state of your own family, you inquired about Maximus.

There was a sadness when she spoke of him, like the uncertainty of the situation was a death sentence.

And maybe it was.

The Wasteland had a habit of making people disappear. It was so easy to just drift away, become little more than a distant memory and an occasional anecdote while the world moved on.

The conversation was enough to keep you occupied, to distract you from the impending walk down nostalgia lane.

For the most part, it was just you and Lucy talking, Cooper still deep in thought over the events of the past day. It was better that way, though, easier to focus on meaningless conversation than the streets around you.

The closer you got, the more you recognized.

The streets were so different now, not teeming with life as they’d once been.

Lux.

Los Angeles had become little more than a husk of itself, shells of buildings littering the streets, the desert sweeping in from all sides. Many factions had laid claim to the ruins, had rebuilt the city with scraps.

Through it all though, Lux had stood.

It wasn’t in perfect condition, but it did maintain itself far better than nearly every other building.

Not that it was particularly surprising, there were many, many divine artifacts locked away, for the protection of others.

“What is this place?” Lucy broke the silence, a hand blocking out the harsh sun as she followed the building to the top.

“It used to be a nightclub,” you shrugged, your boots crunching on glass shards.

Most of the windows had been smashed out, and when you entered the front, you were unsurprised to find that it’d been trashed, then picked clean. Beyond the general structure of the bottom floor, there was little recognizable content left. Even the poles had been taken down, lost to some raid or another.

You could almost picture it, your mind tugging you back to a time you’d walked through the throngs of people, pressing your way to the elevator to meet your brother.

This time, there wasn’t a crowd, just your two companions following in a hushed silence.

“It works?” Lucy gestured to the open doors of the elevator that you’d stepped into, your hand tracing the buttons reverently.

“Yeah, it’ll work,” you promised, a thousand little moments echoing in the press of a button.

You typed in the code, the one Lucifer had used to protect his property prior to leaving, and the elevator whirred back at you.

If you wanted to get technical, it had been Chloe’s idea. She wasn’t interested in coming back to Lux after Lucy left, haunted by the memories. She knew she’d meet him again, one day- but until then, she tried to maintain some semblance of normal while honoring Lucifer.

Thus, you’d all decided that you’d take Lux, and in doing so, you could maintain the artifacts that your brother had collected. You’d agreed only after drowning every surface in bleach.

He might’ve settled down with Chloe eventually, but he’d more than likely defiled every inch of the penthouse before that.

The doors moved with a groan, shutting you and your small party in as it ascended to the place you’d once considered home. Your heart twinged, each whine of the machinery bringing you closer to familiarity.

“How’d you know all this, sweetheart?”

Cooper finally broke his silence, the same one he’d had for the majority of the day, to ask. You weren’t quite sure if you were thankful for it or not, comforted by his voice but also frustrated with his actions.

“This,” you tapped impatiently against the rusting bar, nodding your head as the elevator screeched to a halt, doors springing open slowly. “Was my brother’s place.”

The look Cooper gave you could best be described as suspicious. You looked like you were in your mid-twenties, and this club was very obviously from before the war over 200 years ago.

You ignored it, however, instead calming the pounding of your heart as you stepped into the penthouse your brother had made his home for many years.

The lights above clicked on, a generator long dormant still capable of producing electricity. You weren’t surprised, Lucifer had really spared no expense on this place, because he hated inconvenience.

It was largely untouched, a few smashed windows and a heavy layer of dust the only real mark of the passage of time. It was still, quiet, lifeless. Your fingers idly tapped on the keys of the piano, untuned notes reverberating in the space around you as a brief flicker of life passed through the space.

You’d loved here, had once reunited with your family and friends, had held them all close as the weight of years and years in isolation forced you to your knees. The note died, the memory too, and you stepped away, towards the well stocked bar that was mostly intact.

“Now that’s a bar,” Coop whistled lowly, picking up the nearest bottle and investigating.

“We can stay here for the night,” you told them, dropping your pack on the couch, dust swirling at the upheaval. “There’s only two rooms, but the couch is comfy.”

Lucy was walking the perimeter with curiosity, hands tracing over the luxurious items with interest. She’d never seen objects like this, surrounded by metal and conformity. Everything in the penthouse was unique and expensive, millennia of history blended into fashionable decor.

Maze followed suit, sniffing and investigating every corner and crevice of the abandoned penthouse.

The distinct sound of a fridge opening made you turn towards the bar and cringe.

“I’d just leave that closed,” you commented, a shiver of disgust involuntarily crawling down your spine.

“What in the hell is this?” Coop pulled out a very brightly colored goop, one that you’d been too horrified to even touch after Lucifer had left, and then the world had ended.

“It’s uh,” you cleared your throat. “Lube.”

Amusement twitched on the ghoul’s features as he cracked the old jar open.

“Please don’t,” you muttered, not bothering to watch the scene unfold.

He’d specially ordered it from some Korean sex store, claiming that it tasted like bubblegum and caused all “bits and bobs to tingle”.

You slipped back into your brother’s room, pushing aside the old painting to get into the vault. The thrum of divinity always grew in intensity near artifacts, but this specific one lit a fire in your chest.

Lucifer had felt a connection to the Blade of Death, and Amenadiel had always been affixed to the Key, but you…

You clicked the lock open- the combination was Chloe’s birthday- and reached out, power strumming in the air.

Your fingers closed around the Medallion of Life, the world righting itself a little more around you. The three divine artifacts that made up the Flaming Sword, the three children of God that made up the three realms- there was an unbreakable tether between you and the medallion, which you’d strung around your neck.

“What’s that?”

It was Lucy who asked, who had followed you into your brother's room.

“Family heirloom,” you said, tucking the medallion beneath your jumpsuit.

Her eyes slid to the bed, still perfectly made, gazing with longing. Exhaustion had hit your party hard, the long days of traveling with the lack of adequate rations and an overbearing sun had left your companions little more than a tangle of limbs at night.

“Have the bed,” you told her, turning to walk out of the room.

“Hey,” she interrupted the quiet gently, thoughtfully. “How is it possible? That your brother owned this place?”

You breathed out a sigh, pausing momentarily.

“I’m a lot older than I look.”

Cooper was still rifling around the bar when you returned, his hat perched precariously on a shelf. Maze had jumped onto the couch, satisfied with her assessment of the new space and now content to just doze off.

Your gazes met, and instead of offering him the second room- your room- you nodded your head in a gentle goodnight, and walked the familiar path to rest. Your fingertips traced the walls, nostalgia threatening to bubble up, to form tears in your eyes.

You wouldn’t let it, wouldn’t let memories drown you in sorrow.

Don’t forget who you are.

But you wanted to.

You wanted to be anything but that person, but the person who hurt when others did, who couldn’t stand to watch anyone in pain.

The door to your room creaked open, the bright colors faded to vignette, like an old film. It still looked relatively the same- closet full of color, books lining the wall, retired weapons collecting dust like trophies.

Your bed looked so warm and inviting, and as much as you wanted to fall into the sheets and sleep for a decade, you decided it was best to maintain some amount of hygiene.

You chucked your boots off, throwing them somewhere in the wide, open space. Your socks and jumpsuit were quick to follow, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.

The dresser drawers groaned with disuse, but opened with relative ease. You snagged an old t-shirt you’d stolen from some one night stand you didn’t bother remembering- the name of some old band plastered on the front in an eerie font- and a new pair of panties. Considering it’d been 200 years, you were surprised that they were in such good condition.

They smelled a little dusty and stale, but honestly, that was better than anything the Wasteland produced.

Just as you’d been about to slither into bed and sleep like the dead, the jingle of spurs sounded down the hallway, headed straight for you. Coop was slow, controlled, like he was having a conversation with himself on the walk over.

You listened intently, sitting on the edge of your bed as he decided whether he wanted to speak to you or not.

Slowly, with more caution than you’d ever seen from him, your door opened. The expression he wore was hesitant, and your heart squeezed at seeing some of the confidence in his swagger chipped away.

It struck you then, that you’d seen him play a similar role sometime back in his golden days. He’d been an apologetic cowboy, begging his lady love for forgiveness. She’d given it to him then, had confessed her undying love and then they’d rode off into the sunset, presumably to live happily ever after.

Not for the first time, you wondered if he saw the scene play in his head, if he remembered a time when all the bad disappeared with a shout of “cut”.

“What do you need?”

He shifted from foot to foot, an internal debate, before he took a step forward.

“The dog’s taking up the couch.”

A flimsy excuse. A real one, if it were you, but you knew he didn’t truly care about the comfort of Maze.

“And?”

You quirked a brow, not giving any grace. If he wanted something, he’d have to ask- nicely.

He sucked on his teeth, fingers running the brim of his hat.

“Really gonna make a man beg, sweetheart?“

“I usually do,” you met him with a pointed stare, leaning back on your elbows.

His gaze ran the length of your legs, drinking in the sight of your bare, smooth skin. Like a man possessed, he fell before you, dropped straight to his knees.

“I ain’t ever begged before,” he murmured, the tips of his fingers ghosting along your ankles. “Ain’t gonna start now.”

A smile tugged at your lips- slow and sweet, a woman who knew her worth.

“Not now,” you agreed with a hum, watching from beneath your lashes as he pressed the skin of your ankle to his lips, moving up a few inches before repeating the action. “But you will.”

A shiver ran the length of your spine when his touch reached the inside of your thigh, a smirk pulling on his mouth. He tugged at your underwear, sliding it down your legs at a torturous pace.

“Is that so?”

His breath was warm against your skin, the vibrations from his voice pressed against your legs. It was a sight to behold, him on his knees before you, worshipping each inch of yourself bared to him.

“Pretty as a peach,” he breathed, eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed cunt.

You hummed teasingly, the sound turning to a breathy moan of his name as he bit the soft flesh of your thigh.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Coop,” you told him, leveling him with an even stare.

He kept eye contact as he licked a long, hard stripe up your cunt. Your breath stuttered, muscles tensing at the sensation.

“Neither am I.”

You barely had time to register the words, to understand the insulation, before he pressed his face against you, his tongue flicking desperately against your clit.

You cursed, hands knocking the hat off his head as you grabbed onto the back of his neck, holding him there. Your back arched when he sucked, his teeth just barely scraping against your sensitive nub.

He was ravenous, his tongue finding a harsh rhythm against your clit, sucking up every drop of wetness you gave him like he’d been without water for a week. The pressure in your stomach unraveled, muscles straining under the building tension.

Your body sung, pleasure climbing higher and higher.

Coop pulled away, and you nearly sobbed at the loss of his mouth, before his fingers- somehow devoid of his gloves in the chaos- were pressing into you.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” his accent was thick, honeyed.

You had maybe a second before-

A wanton moan tore itself from your parted lips, his name a prayer on your lips as his other hand held you open, his tongue relentless against your slick heat.

His finger was pumping in and out of you, quickly joined by another as he stretched you open for him.

You were saying his name over and over now, pressure building with each swipe of his tongue or curl of his finger. You were pleading with him, at the edge of it all wanting to just plunge into your pleasure.

Your legs flexed, tried to close, but Cooper held them open as your chest fluttered. Each touch was fire, so hot your body burned in an inferno of your desire.

Cooper. Cooper. Fuck.

Unintelligible words fell from your lips, growing in volume as you fell into the feel of him, pleasure bursting through your veins. You might’ve screamed his name then, might’ve drew blood with your fingernails as he tongue fucked you through your orgasm.

It took you a moment to catch your breath, and another to realize he was crawling up your body, pride plastered in the smirk he wore.

You’d give it to him, that was one hell of an orgasm.

But, you didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. Not yet.

“Coop,” you warned, holding your hand against his chest.

The heart that beat beneath your palm was pounding with excitement.

“Darlin’,” he cooed the syllables, sweet as sugar.

If you were made of lesser stuff, you might’ve leaned into his touch, might’ve bunched his shirt in your fist and pressed your lips to his- but you weren’t, and you didn’t. Instead, you met his gaze, keeping him suspended above you.

You rocked to the side then, your leg wrapped around his middle while you flipped the both of you over, pinning him beneath you. It surprised him, the strength you displayed, so unlike when he’d had you on your knees.

You didn’t have to say anything then, didn’t even have to tell him what you were thinking. He could see it, could recognize the look in your eyes, and nodded.

He laid back, observing you above him. You wished you could tell what he was thinking, what caused the furrow of his now-gone brows.

A note floated between you, more joining with a skilled precision to create a beautiful melody.

A familiar melody.

Coop was already pushing you off him, feet pounding against the ground as you struggled to throw a pair of old sweatpants on. You were tripping over yourself, all uncoordinated limbs and excitable actions and you ran out the door and into the hallway, a few feet behind Coop.

He was already slinging insults, his gun cocked with a threat by the time you rounded the corner. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, couldn’t even see the worried expression on Lucy’s brow as you stared at the piano, the very same that had laid abandoned, silent, for 200 years.

There, in the center of the room, with a wide, devilish smile and a pristine suit, fingers sprawled across the keys, sat Lucifer.

[drama--universe]

Marry me

Requested by anonymous: Hello!🫰🫰 I'm back because like I said before - I can never get enough of Xichen! Request: The reader (female) has an injury in the past. She has scars on her face, which she hides with her spiritual power so that no one can see her scarred face and see her as before - a beauty. She befriended Xichen during a meeting in Lanling where she served as Jin Guangyao's assistant/representative. They both discovered that they had similar interests - playing the flute, books, etc...soon they confessed their love and got engaged. But the reader never revealed her biggest secret to him - her true face. She was afraid that by revealing her face, Xichen would no longer love her. Jin Guangyao was the only one who knew about her past injuries and covering her face, and the reader looked to him for comfort. But what the reader didn't know...Xichen already knew about everything from Guangyao a long time ago. Xichen then confronts the reader and assures her that he loves her and that he never saw her ugly🩷🩷🩷…

Pairing: Lan Xichen x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.3k words

Guangyao had told you this would happen, that people would whisper and laugh at you, and yet you couldn't lift your head. It was clear why, you were the assistant of a bastard (not your choice of words) and thus in other people's eyes you weren't really worth being nice to. Yet it reminded you of your childhood, way before you were able to control your spiritual powers, where people would mock and laugh at you for the scars on your body. You remembered that day clearly, like it had happened yesterday.

It was a stupid freak accident, you didn't know how it even started. Fire had erupted in the west side of the manor in the middle of the night, in the room of the head of the household. You, along with a few hundred other maids or those who were learning to be maid, had been sleeping in the East wing. Chaos had already started by the time the fire reached your quarters. You weren't woken, not by a single person sleeping near you. Instead, you were left alone and still asleep. By the time you awoke, the flames were already licking away at your skin and melting your sheets. The screams you wanted to let out just settled in your chest as you leaped out of your bed. You were able to escape in the nick of time, watching as the building collapsed onto the unluckier people. The last thing you saw that night was the flames engulfing all that was left while screams filled the night.

Even to this day, your skin had never recovered from the flames, remaining a red and white colored scar that covered the left side of your body and face. It was not something you minded, but the looks and judgement were. Even now as you covered your appearance with a glamor, the idea that it was because of your scars was still lingering in the back of your mind.

But among all of the stares, one person was not staring. Or at least not in a menacing way like the rest, rather just out of curiosity or kindness. You didn't need an introduction to the man, his kind looks and robes said enough for you to realize who he was. Lan Xichen, as far as you were aware he was the head of his clan. A gentle smile rested on his face as he greeted Guangyao, clearly one of the only people in the room with some decent brains, before he turned to greet you.

"I don't believe we have met." He speaks and you're surprised with how formal he talks to you, unlike most who treat you as a maid (still). Your heart leaped out of your chest as he made eye contact with you before bowing slightly, which you quickly returned while introducing yourself briefly. The man gave another smile before turning to Guangyao, talking about business that you didn't understand and thus didn't pay attention to it. You took that time to look around slightly, taking note of all of the faces around you while trying to remember all of their names. It could prove to be handy later, no use in offending someone else. Especially not with how you were already viewed by others, anything to displease them would certainly cost you your head.

You were pulled from your thoughts when Guangyao called your name, gently guiding you to your seats. Coincidentally, you were sat right next to Xichen and the rest of his groups. You assumed that they were his juniors, their attires slightly less impressive than that of Xichen.

The meeting started, points carefully being brought up and discussed. You nor Guangyao spoke up much, receiving a casual shrug and being spoken over when you did, and the same went for Xichen. Yet when he spoke, elegantly and refined, everyone listened to his stance on the topic. It was almost comical how quickly the room went quiet, all eyes turning to him and carefully listening to every word that exited his mouth. When he finished, flashing that gorgeous smile that you were certainly falling in love with, everyone would nod along and agree without even thinking farther about it on their own.

At the end, you were escorted to your room and once again near Lan Xichen. Well, sort of anyway. You slept in the same room as the female Lan disciplines and thus straight across of Xichen's room.

As the days of the banquet continued, you saw more of Xichen and he even approached you without Guangyao near you. You had quite enjoyable conversations, always finding yourself smiling for hours after your interactions, and you assumed he enjoyed them the same since he kept approaching you. Your conversations ranged from talking about the points of the meetings to talking about some book either of you had read. If not those subjects, it was about what you had for dinner since you never seemed to join the dinner meetings, but you weren't about to tell him that you didn't get the chance because of your exhaustion and lack of energy to keep up the glamor on your face. So instead, you buried yourself in work and wallowed in solitude.

Like now, where you sat at your work table with papers thrown around on the desk while your food rested on your lap. It was something simple, just a regular broth that you had eaten every single day at this point. One of your hands was focused on writing, slightly messy (not that it mattered), while your other hand focused on feeding yourself. Usual routine, except that Guangyao was seated opposite of you and doing the same as you were, all be it more clumsy. Why he was here, you had no clue. However, you did enjoy the company, even when there was only the scribbling on and the rustling of paper to cover the silence.

"Can you hand me the notes from... 3 days ago? You know, the one about that... Well, you know which one I mean." Guangyao's voice broke through the silence and you looked up before rustling through the papers as you searched, knowing full well which he meant. But even when knowing what it was and where it should be, you could not find it. You went through them once again but still nothing.

"I don't have it..." "Ah! Got it, sorry..." He spoke again as he pulled out the paper from his own stack, to which you only scoffed before returning to your own work once more. You didn't get far as the silence was broken once more as Guangyao spoke up again.

"I forgot to mention, but I asked Xichen to drop by. I asked if he could drop by some stuff from yesterday." He said, to which you nodded before pulling your dress to cover your legs and pulling the front tighter around you so it would cover you enough. Then you sighed softly and focused your energy to cover up your scars. Just as you did that, a knock interrupted the silence and you looked up to see Xichen. He gave you a smile before joining you, looking over the notes on the table once as he sat down near Guangyao. You decided to just focus on your work as the two talked, but you answered the questions thrown your way ever so often.

"You're staring again." Guangyao subtle jab made you jolt before you looked away from your topic of interest, which happened to be a very nice and tall man. You just scoffed in response, but you could not refute him as your gaze flickered back to said man. He was talking to some of his juniors, who were attentively listening to him with a gleam that you could only chuckle at.

"You can just talk to him, you know?" "I can, but I'm not going to. Besides, he's talking with them right now." You pointed at the group around Xichen before turning away from him and sighing again. Guangyao only laughed again at you before focusing on his snack. You did the same, eating the fruit before flinching when someone sat beside you. You recognized him as someone from the Lanling Jin clan and couldn't help but sigh softly again as you waited for what he was going to say. It was the usual conversation with the casual flirtatious remarks added in along with some comments that made you grimace, none of them clearly realized how insulting the comment 'You don't look like a maid, rather a rich girl' was. You were neither, not that either was insulting to you, but for them to assume that a maid was ugly and a "rich girl" was pretty was just weird if anything. So, like usual, you just nodded before continuing to do what you were doing before. However, this guy seemed to not take that as a clear answer and continued.

"I apologize if to was not clear, but I'm spoken for at the moment." You gave a smile that you were sure he understood was fake before turning away again in hopes that he'd finally give up.

"Really, do I know him?" The tone of his voice was mocking you and you could only scoff while your eyes darted around again. You couldn't use Guangyao, everybody knew that you had a sibling relationship. Instead your eyes landed on Xichen again, who seemed to notice your gaze immediately as if he was already looking at you. The slightly panicked expression on your face seemed enough for him to make his way over, so you quickly sprung into action.

"He seems to be walking over right now and I do assume you know him." You gave another smile, hoping that he hadn't noticed you and Xichen share a look. Seemingly, he didn't as his face just paled slightly while he greeted the clan head. You found it hilarious as you smiled at Xichen before flinching again when the man beside you excused himself in a hurry.

"Spoken for, huh?" Guangyao teased while Xichen looked slightly confused as he sat down beside you in the spot where the previous guy sat.

"I seem to have missed something..." Xichen said with a small smile and you shook your head with a laugh. "I needed an excuse for him to leave, the solution was you." You said in a teasing manner, hopping he'd take it as a stupid joke and didn't think too much about it.

"She told him that you and her were courting." Guangyao spoke up and you gave him a pointed glare before softly slapping his arm. Xichen looked at you with an amused look and you awkwardly looked at him before scoffing again.

"I said a was spoken for, not courting." You gave another pointed glare to Guangyao before he was able to speak up. "Technically those are the same." Your glare moved over to Xichen and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Not that I know anything about that." He backtracked and you nodded before turning to your snacks again, angrily munching while you tried to ignore the pang of embarrassment that shot through your mind. And like a rolling ball down a hill, you felt all energy suddenly drain after and you paused before groaning as you dropped your head down. Guangyao, guessing what was happening, was quick to jump up and move to your side.

"I'm going to my room, headache is starting again." The lie didn't seem obvious as Xichen didn't react to it, rather watching you walk off to your room. Neither he not Guangyao followed, just remaining in their seats with worried looks as you sauntered off.

How you ended up here was slightly confusing, but you were here. Right opposite of you was Xichen, who seemed fully content while you tried to hide your embarrassment. How you hadn't realized that your hang-out was in fact a date, was a miracle and it didn't help that Xichen had to point that out. Not that you minded it, you could just not believe that you were that oblivious. Instead of having your existential crisis before the date, like you would usually do when you realized that your crush liked you back, you now had to do so on the date itself. Hence why your head was placed on the table, your eyes closed while you tried to ignore the low chuckling from the man opposite of you.

"I should've made it more obvious." "No, no, no... I'm just stupid, sorry." You lifted your head for a second to apologize before letting it drop again, hoping for the hit against the table to knock you out. Not connecting to the table made you pause before opening your eyes to see Xichen's hand.

"Can you just not be a gentleman for a few seconds?" You asked and he let out a laugh, one you had never heard before. Normally, the man was reserved and quiet, maybe even a bit uptight. Now, however, he seemed relaxed and a bit more open. It was nice, made him a bit more attractive than he already was. I mean, who didn't like someone more when they felt more relaxed around you.

"I don't think I can agree to that. I had to promise Guangyao to treat you to the best of my capabilities." He said with another one of his charming smiles, but you could only scoff at the mention of Guangyao and laying your head on his hand again.

"Of course he did... He knows my weaknesses." You mumbled and Xichen pushed your head up to look at you. "Me being nice is attractive to you?" He asked and you chuckled at him before sitting up.

"Oh, God. You have no idea, do you?"

"No, no, no... Teach me that again!" You exclaimed as you tried to follow Xichen's fingers on the strings of his instruments. Xichen chuckled before plucking at the strings once more, showing you the rhythm and melody. You grimaced before doing the same, wincing when the notes came out wrong once again.

"I think I should stick with woodwind instruments, strings don't agree with me." You joked, looking back and chuckling at Xichen before dropping your head backwards and on his shoulder.

"Giving up isn't allowed, come on." He took ahold of your hands and guided them on the strings, bending his fingers with yours to make you play. The notes, while not all right, sounded much better then before.

"You know, that's one rule of yours I agree with." "Which one do you not agree with?" He asked and you looked up before kissing his cheek.

"No public affection." You smiled before kissing him on the lips once, feeling his smile against your lips before he pulled away. "Now that's a rule I'm willing to break soon." He said and you raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm afraid we have to be married for that-" The smirk on his face made you stop in the middle of your sentence before your eyes widened and you jumped up from your seat between his legs.

"Are you asking me to marry you?!" You exclaimed and Xichen shrugged softly, awaiting your reaction and seemingly looking disappointed when you whined at him.

"Do you not want to marry me?" "Yes, I do! But that was so... so unromantic." You whined as you stepped closer to him again, cupping his face and chuckling.

"But I will marry you."

"Why did I say yes?!" You complained to Guangyao, who just sat on your bed while trying to get you to stop pacing and stressing. You couldn't help it, hands pulling at your hair while you paced.

"I don't see a problem... He's the love of your life, no?" "Yes!" You answered and Guangyao made a motion, asking what the problem was. You stopped pacing and pointed at your burns, more specifically those on your face and neck. Once again, Guangyao asked what was wrong.

"I look disgusting! People think I'm a monster that they warn their kids about!" You almost screamed at him and Guangyao was quick to get up when he noticed how distressed you were, tears streaming down your face. He marched to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and trying to get you to calm down.

"Let's not go back there, alright? We talked about this before, you are not a monster. You will never be one and those scars do not make you one." Guangyao said and you scoffed at him as you tried to escape his grasp, unsuccessfully. Instead, Guangyao's grip tightened on your shoulders as he tried to make you to face him.

"I know you're not and you know that too." He continued and you groaned, letting yourself fall to the ground and let yourself go. Tears started streaming down your face as you pushed Guangyao off of you, pushing yourself in a corner and hiding yourself. Guangyao seemed to get the hint as you heard the door open and close.

You don't know how long it was as you kept crying, but long enough for your throat to get dry and scratchy. No tears remained as you sobbed, which made you even more annoyed. When the door opened, however, you could only groan and raise your head.

"Get out, A-Yao." You exclaimed before freezing as you saw Xichen in the doorway, looking at you with a worried face. He approached while you stared at him in fear, not even thinking of covering your face as you tried to process the fact that Xichen was standing before you.

He kneeled down, caressing your face as he wiped away tears stains before pulling you closer to him. Your face got pressed against his shoulders and you let yourself go again, wrapping yourself around him and sniffling to yourself. His hands rubbed circles on your back to try and comfort you, which you had to admit was working slightly. After a few more minutes of this and then you leaned back, staring at Xichen with tears still in your eyes.

"Guangyao said you were having a panic attack, I came as quick as I could." Xichen explained and you could only groan as he said it, slightly annoyed at the fact that this was not even something you were surprised about. His hand soon found your face, thumb grazing over the scar on your face before softly placing a kiss on your cheek.

"I do not care for your scars, you are beautiful like you are. If you feel better hiding them in public, I will not judge you or try to change you. I do, however, want you to know that you do not need to around me. If you'll still have me, I will marry you however many times you want." He gave you a soft smile, one that made your heart melt and your façade crumble.

"Do you really don't care? I mean, I look like a monster and-" "I'm stopping you right there. You do not look like a monster, rather a strong person that survived a terrible thing. Guangyao had told me your story and I know what you've been through. It might not have been his story to tell, but it happened to slip out during a conversation of ours." He continues and you frown, not really understanding what he was trying to say.

"So I think I have to ask you again." He kneeled before you and took ahold of your hands, kissing your knuckles softly before continuing.

"Will you marry me?"

[kyokutsu-sama]

Hi may I ask if you could do headcanons on William Vangeance who falls for an enemy mid-battle like the enemy has him in their trap and are just casually talking to him while he struggles to break free and they accidentally knock his mask off showing his mark and he thinks the enemy will make fun of it but their actually not bothered by it at all

Thank you I know this is super specific so if you don't want too you don't have to write for it

A/n: Hi @weebwith-problems!! Your request was very interesting and I love William so much❤️ I actually like it when requests are specific, it helps me write them better. I hope you like it☺️

____________________________

William always managed to enter the battlefield and defeat his enemies without much difficulty, using his magic. But there are times when we have to try harder and this happened on a day when he had gone on a mission with other members of the golden dawn.

He was trying to defeat his opponent, but it was proving more difficult than he imagined. In the middle of the fight they managed to catch him by surprise and use a spell to trap him and ensure he was safely trapped.

He wriggled but couldn't free his body.

They approached William and he thought they were going to kill him at that moment but that didn't seem like it was going to happen.

"You're strong, you know, William" They said looking at him and he said nothing other than his slightly confused expression

"What are you carrying under that mask? Since we've been fighting, I've been asking myself that. I'm really curious about it" They looked at him imagining what his face would look like without the mask. "Can I take a look?" They asked as they approached him

William must have been focusing on that fight and getting out of there but at the same time he was afraid that they would see his face and that they would make fun of him for it, something that reminded him of his painful past.

"Wait..." He said as he tried to free himself but they got close to him and removed his mask almost so quickly that he didn't even notice

William remained static, his body that seemed to want to run away just now, was completely still. They didn't laugh at William, they didn't make any comments about the huge scar that crossed his forehead and eyes from one side to the other.

The enemy seemed quite comfortable even after seeing his weakness.

Their hands slowly passed over the scar, the captain tried to turn his face but the hand continued to trace paths there and that comforted him knowing that they didn't seem scared by that scar.

"It's a hell of a scar" They lowered their hand and he looked at them in the eyes and they smiled tenderly. "Why do you hide it? You look pretty" They caressed his cheek

William was speechless about what was happening, he saw them as an enemy minutes ago but after that he didn't know what to think. They were the only ones who praised him for being like that and he was so grateful to have heard that.

They released them from the restraints and he fell to the ground and looked at them, they crouched in front of him and held his face.

"If anyone ever said anything bad about this scar, I'm going to kill them" They smiled and he smiled at them too. "Take your mask. I have to go, don't forget that we still belong to different sides, but I hope to meet you again one day"They got up and ran away from the captain, who looked at the mask in his hands and then at them as they walked away from the place

It had been a few days since that meeting and he couldn't forget the way they were so kind to him. He just hoped to see them again and under different circumstances so he could talk with them.

He didn't really realize it but the truth is that he fell in love in that moment when their fingertips caressed his skin so gently.

[ateriblewriter]

Butterflies (t.z)

Continuation of I’m Here

TRIGGERS: self harm, self worth, hinting at other things (if you or anyone ever needs help please do reach out)

a/n: sorry this a year late. but here it is! read with caution.

Enjoy?

"Do you have any sharpies? Or a permanent marker or something like that?" Trevor untangled himself from around your body when he felt the time was right. He didn't wait for your answer before he started to rummage through the drawers of junk that were in the kitchen.

Trevor wasn't about to act like he all the answers in world or like he was going to be the one to fix you. Because in reality that would be impossible, you needed someone trained in that field to help you long term. But that didn't mean that he couldn't help in the moment or at least try.

And he had an idea, something that he had seen when he was younger. A reminder for when your feelings got a little too big for you to handle by yourself. It also a place holder until he was able to help you find the correct help you needed. Because he wasn't going to leave you alone to deal with this on your own.

"Um. I think there might be one in the cup next to the sink." You mumble trying to remember where they were. You knew you had some. "Or else it's in with my art supplies. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Hey now. There is nothing to be sorry about y/n." Trevor carried you over to your couch and making his way to your art corner to start scrounging around for that marker.

It took him a minute to find your collection, it turned out they were with the art supplies that hadn't been touched in months. He picked out two colors, purple and blue, your favorite color along with one of his.

Returning to where he had left you, he made himself comfortable. He snagged a blanket from the bin and laid it across the both of you. Trevor wasn't

"Give me your arm" He said, not asking. You didn't have the strength to question what his motives were, so you presented him with your wrist full of healing scars. He grimmaced seeing them, wondering how long this had been going on and why he didn't notice earlier.

Trevor took the purple marker starting to draw something. He started off with the body, adding some sort of antenna to what was supposed to be it head. He then took the blue marker and made wings on either side of its body.

"A butterfly?" You question rubbing and tracing over the temporary tattoo with the tip of your finger.

Your friend nodded and explained the simple rules: you want the butterfly to live by letting it fade naturally and reapplying it when you feel that certain urge. Oh and if you do act on those urges the butterfly dies.

You could do that. Or at least try. It seemed easy enough.

"You think she's gonna like it?" Trevor asked peeling off the bandage that once covered his newly acquired tattoo that laid on his right shoulder. He was looking to get something new to add to his collection of art in his body and he chose a butterfly design.

"A butterfly?" Mason scratched his head. He was a little unimpressed and a bit confused. But that's because he didn't know the significance of the creature. "I don't know man, it just seems kind of-"

"Perfect, right?" Trevor finished his sentence. He had grabbed a warm wash cloth to clean the remaining goop off.

"I was gonna say weird. But whatever floats your boat." The younger man shrugged. He didn't care what Trevor decided to put on his body.

Trevor groaned, quickly finishing up his tattoo care so they could go meet up with you. You would like the new ink, he was pretty positive of it. He just needed to show it to you know.

You weren't paying attention to what you were doing. Sometimes you do things and it just sort of happens and you don't really remember it. It was almost like you were in some sort of trance. A trance that had you acting upon some of those heavy feelings that had been plaguing you lately.

"Shit" You mumbled when you heard the knocking on the door. You had completely forgotten that Trevor and Mason were coming over. There was a fresh mark on your arm that you needed to take care of.

You hurried to the bathroom in search of some sort of bandage for your arm. Maybe you could play it off as an accident. You didn't need to tell Trevor what had happened. It would be fine right? Oh god you hoped Trevor wouldn't notice.

You just found a bandage, when you spotted the butterfly you had just drawn on your arm the day before. You panic a little, the drawing didn't have a purpose anymore and had to go. You drop the band-aid to reach for a nail scrubber and start to get rid of the butterfly.

"Come on, Y/n, open the door!" Trevor banged on the door again.

"You think she forgot?" Mason crossed his arms. It wouldn't be the first time it slipped her mind that they were supposed to hang.

"No we were talking about it earlier. I highly doubt she forgot so soon." Trevor frowned unsure what to do. Should he wait for you, maybe you were still getting ready. But he had a sinking suspicion that wasn't the case.

Trevor fished the key you had given him out of his pocket and opened the door. He suggested Mason stay there. Mason had no idea what Trevor had walked into last time something like this had happened, so he agreed to stay put.

Cautiously he entered your apartment and started to look around for you. He found you in the bathroom scrubbing away. He notice the red on your arm and put two and two together.

"Hey, Y/n?" He called out. He wasn't fully sure if you had completely heard him so he tried reaching you again. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" You continue what you were doing.

"Hey. Listen to me. You're okay. It happens. I'm not mad." Trevor wanted to grab onto your wrists to get you to stop scrubbing at the butterfly that had already been cleanly washed off, but you swore you could still see a piece of it. Instead he grabbed onto your shoulders and turned you to face him so wrap his arms around you and pull you in close. "It's okay. Wanna draw a new one?"

Let me know what you think! Anything is appreciated!

[thepenultimateword]

The Worst Kind of Medal

The war had left more scars on the nation than it had Umbra’s body, so she wasn’t surprised that the airship came in 6 hours later than the schedule had claimed. She was more surprised that she was still standing on the platform, bold-lettered sign locked in her fists at either corner, when it arrived. No one had told her she needed to be at the port when Prince Waylon arrived in Graybourne, only that he was to be her lifelong charge forever after. She probably should have left a soldier here in her place and enjoyed her last few hours of freedom at home.

A bit of guilt pricked her insides. That was unfair. No one had forced her into this marriage arrangement. She’d accepted it–maybe only for the promises that came along with it, but still an acceptance. If she was uncomfortable now, it was her fault.

Several men leaped from the ship deck, ropes coiled under their arms. They rushed to knot the tethers to the docking posts as their feet touched the ground. It was complicated to get a ship back in the air once grounded, so most docks were constructed on cliff faces or in Greybourne’s case on towers. This allowed the ship to remain airborne yet steady for boarding and exiting; the same went for inspections and refueling. The only real reason for a ship to land was in case of major repairs.

The plank dropped, and a surge of people rushed onto the platform. Umbra scanned the crowd, with rapid scrutiny. She wished she’d asked for a photograph of her potential husband before the royal family shipped him here. The monarch probably wouldn’t grant her another reward if she lost him on the very first day. 

“Ser Umbra!”

Her gaze shot to the deck where a man with long silvery hair braided crownlike around his forehead and then draped loosely over one shoulder waved over the crowd. Another man, hair-slicked and face creased with a long-suffering frown, reached out to grab him, but the prince was already bounding down the plank. He was more petite than she had expected, his head bobbing in and out of sight as he weaved clumsily through the crowd, bumping shoulders every few steps. As he darted around the last mozying couple, he nearly barreled straight into her chest, but he managed to catch himself just short, tipping up onto his toes in the process.

“Ser Umbra,” he repeated, panting up at her with a broad smile. “I-it’s really you! You came yourself! I really wasn’t expecting to see you straight off the ship! Ryann told me I probably wouldn’t see you until tomorrow morning because of your duties!”

Umbra blinked at him. Her heart felt like it had been seized and clutched hard in her chest.

She’d wondered why the King had suggested Prince Waylon as her groom. It had seemed a very quick choice. She’d figured it was because he was fifth in line for the throne—the royal family wouldn’t marry a soldier to someone who could one day take the crown, no matter how much she’d done for her country. Now, looking at his peeking canines, golden eyes, and long, curling tail, it was abundantly clear this had been a careful act of strategy.

King Esmond had never been shy about taking wives, and as a result, many of his children came from foreign royalty, a way of securing many alliances at once. Not so with the Auskeran princess. Umbra had not yet been born when the marriage took place, but everyone knew that was where the tensions between the two countries had started. With the princess's death.

But now, with the war ended and Auskeran firmly independent from the rest of the world, no foreign alliances were waiting for a half-Auskerian prince. And keeping him around the capital was a liability in itself. His very appearance was a reminder of the recent horrors and a symbol of shame to the King. But he was still of royal blood, and banishments–no matter how merciful–had a habit of coming back to bite. So what did they do? They gave him to a local. Someone high enough to merit such a match but low enough that she couldn’t refuse. Someone who would take all the perks of having a royal spouse as appeasement for the inconvenience of his half-bloodedness.

Still, they had to have known her feelings about such a thing. The war had not ended so many months ago that an Auskerian, even half of one, didn’t bother her. Perhaps that was the very reason they’d said nothing. They wouldn’t want to risk her denial.

“How did you know what I look like?” Umbra said, forcing her clenched jaw apart. He’d picked her out from the crowd on sight. He couldn’t have seen the sign from that distance, could he?

The prince flushed a little. “Father showed me a photograph of the Greybourne division as soon as he told me about the marriage arrangement. He said you’re a general of high standing. You held the eastern front steady for two years before scouting over the border. You won us the war practically singlehanded!” 

Umbra was about to explain that it was far more complex than that but Prince Waylon carried on without pause. 

“And to think, of all the prestigious matches you could have received, Father chose me! I’ve been showing that photo to everyone for the last month! But it got sort of crumpled from carrying it around too much, so my sister painted your portrait for me as a wedding gift. See?” 

He pried open the locket around his neck and leaned forward to show her a very accurate, stoic miniature of her own face. She was dressed in her military uniform, her medal of honor–a medal that she’d really only worn twice, once when it was bestowed and again for a newspaper photo–pinned bold and gleaming to her chest.

 “She made one for you too, here!” He fished into his breast pocket and held out a matching bronze locket by its chain. 

Umbra watched it swing for a couple moments before she tentatively accepted it. “I, um…” He was staring at her so expectantly what was she supposed to do? She slipped the chain over her head, and the locket settled in the hollow of her chest. “Thank you.”

He continued to stare. Gaze flicking to the locket and back to her face again. He definitely wasn’t subtle. 

She picked open the latch and looked vaguely at the companion miniature. “Ah.”

It wasn’t much of a reaction but the prince immediately pounced on it.

“I hope it's ok. I wanted it to be more interesting or at least be smiling, but Isabeau said portraits are supposed to be serious. I’m lucky she let me be as expressive as that.”

“No, no, it’s very nice,” Umbra said. Lied. She hadn’t even noticed whether the portrait had been straight-faced or smiling. She should probably be more excited, or at least appreciative. Princess Isabeau was supposedly a real artistic talent—from the accuracy of her own portrait she had to agree—and her skill mixed with her status, made her paintings some of the most saught after in the kingdom. Now she had one around her neck and she couldn’t even give it a proper enough to look to give a specific detail of praise.

Luckily, Prince Waylon took her words at face value. He noticeably relaxed, and she snapped the locket shut again.

“Prince Waylon!” The other man from the ship shoved out from the crowd, a little more disheveled than he’d been moments ago and lugging two large suitcases. He let the cases drop heavily to the planks and tugged sharply on the ends of his black suit. “A member of the royal family does not fly off like that! You must conduct yourself with decorum! And that means staying with your escort!”

“I was with Ser Umbra, so it was fine,” Prince Waylon said.

The man’s attention flicked toward her, scanning her up and down with an unimpressed expression. As an employee to the royal family why would he be? 

“This is Ryann, my escort to Greybourne,” Prince Waylon said. “He’s supposed to return to Ashborough once he sees me settled.  

“Ser,” Ryann said with a short bow. “Unfortunately, the royal officiant was delayed, so the wedding will have to be postponed at least a couple weeks. I’m to stay until that point to be another witness.”

Great. The last thing she wanted was time to start overthinking things. She’d wanted this done as quickly as possible. And now, with the prince’s Auskerian features to unsettle her, she wanted it done even faster.

“You both must be tired,” she said, hefting up one of the suitcases. “My car is at the base of the tower. I’ll take you to the house so you can rest.”

“Oh, I’m not that tired–” Waylon began

“You drive?” Ryann interrupted as he grabbed the remaining case. “You don’t have a chauffeur?”

“I have drivers,” Umbra clarified. “For shopping and other errands. I simply prefer the autonomy of driving myself. Don’t worry, I don’t expect Prince Waylon to get along without a chauffeur.”

“Oh, maybe I could learn too?”

“Absolutely not,” Ryann snapped. “You’ll get yourself killed. Besides, who ever heard of royalty driving themselves? You’re not one of the working class.”

Umbra started down the first tower ramp, letting them fall into step beside her. Should she say something? Tell the prince he could try driving if he liked? But her drivers didn’t have time to keep an eye on him and she hadn’t planned on engaging in any extra responsibilities. She also didn’t think there was much point in ruffling the escort further. So she remained quiet.

Prince Waylon didn’t seem to take the denial too hard. He chatted a bit on the way down, pointing out the landscape and buildings as they went. Umbra nodded along, but didn’t listen much; she was more focused on the many glances the prince received from passersby, ranging from curiosity to outright disgust. Ryann must have been aware as well because he kept a protective hand on the prince’s arm the entire way down.

The car waited at the curb for them. A sleek green thing with three steam valves that she’d purchased shortly after the war’s end. It was easier traveling back and forth to the military headquarters this way.

“Here we are.” Umbra popped the door to the trunk, putting away the first suitcase and then taking the second from Ryann.

The escort dusted off his hands, as if the meanialness of the task were a visible smudge on his station. He then stepped back to survey the car’s body. “This is a handsome vehicle.”

 Umbra expected it was one of the only words of praise she was going to receive during his stay, but she still couldn’t find it in herself to use it to her advantage. “It does the job.”

 “Ser Umbra, can I sit up front with you?” Prince Waylon chirped from the side.

“You’re not going to address me as Ser Umbra our entire marriage, are you?”

His face washed a hot pink. “I wasn’t sure what you preferred.”

“You’re not a part of my regiment. Umbra is fine.”

“Then I’m just Waylon.” He smiled. A sweet, bright-eyed expression that made Umbra’s insides churn like someone was trying to turn them inside out. The officator had better get there fast.

She nodded curtly and circled around to the passenger door, holding it for him as he picked up the ends of his traveling cloak and slid inside. As she closed it behind him, she caught a glimpse of Ryann’s expression before he entered the backseat. Silent approval. Seemed she’d passed whatever test the employee had in mind for vehicle etiquette. She wasn’t look forward to any similar tests. Her rise in the military had granted her a title and a fortune, but she certainly could claim to be as well-bred as anyone in the royal court. Which for many was a sin in itself. 

The drive from the port to her small estate lasted only 20 minutes and was mainly quiet. Waylon ooed at every street and building they passed. Umbra couldn’t imagine anything here in Greybourne, a city on the very edge of the kingdom, could surpass Ashborough in all its capital glory. Perhaps he was only trying to be polite. However, as they pulled up the lane to the estate, his nose was almost pressed to the glass.

“It’s beautiful!”

Now Umbra knew he was being polite. The estate was a sturdy, grey-stoned building with two stories and several acres of surrounding meadow. A garage hid humbly and strategically around the back so as not to ruin the aesthetic view of the front or boast the ownership of two cars. It may have been larger than many of the other homes in Graybourne, and yes, it was rather pretty in the golden hour of evening, but it was nothing compared to the manors in Ashborough let alone the palace. Umbra had been dragged into several parties and ceremonies in the capital after the war’s official end, and extravagant was an understatement.

Waylon clutched his locket and mumbled under his breath. “It’s like a dream.”

A dream? What did princes have to dream about?

Umbra circled the drive and parked directly in front of the large oak front doors. Arlin and Madeline must have been watching from inside–she was impressed they stayed at the ready for the entire 6 hours she had been gone–because they rushed out the front the moment she stepped out of the vehicle. 

Arlin opened the passenger door before Umbra could make her way fully around, but to his credit, his surprise only lasted a moment. Raised eyebrows shot back down, parted lips promptly pinned shut, and he bowed his head as Waylon stepped down to the gravel drive. 

“Your majesty,” Arlin said, then moved on to Ryann’s door.

In the meantime, Madeline had made quick work of unloading the luggage. The bags seemed oversized compared to her small frame, but she showed no struggle as she carried them around. Her reaction to the prince showed more in an exchange of glances with Arlin than a change of expression. 

“Welcome back, Miss,” she said, “we were beginning to worry something had gone wrong.”

“Just a slight delay in the ship’s arrival,” Umbra said, passing the car keys to Arlin, who promptly took the car around to the garage. “Madeline, will you show the prince and his escort to their rooms? They’ve had a long trip, and it’s getting late.”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll let Henrietta and the others know that dinner will be served in the guests’ rooms tonight.”

“Thank you. Only tea for me tonight. Please have it brought to my office.” She didn’t think she could stomach anything else tonight. Maybe a cup of tea would settle some of her more turbulent emotions.

“Oh, Ser– I mean, Umbra,” Waylon said, the end of his tail flicking eagerly. “I’m really not tired, and I’d love to see more of the estate, and talk to you more. Maybe we can go for a walk–that meadow back there looks promising–and I can tell you–”

“My prince,” Ryann said firmly. The prince jolted, looking at Ryann with wide eyes. The escort gave him a subtle shake of his head.

Waylon looked down at the gravel, ears going slightly pink. “My apologies Ser Umbra. I overexcited.”

Oh no, she needed to say something didn’t she? Something smart and smooth that saved the prince’s feelings without backing down from her preference for a quiet night. She hated hosting. She especially the politics that came with it.

“I’d be happy to show you around the grounds tomorrow,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound forced. “The sun is about to go down soon and the view can’t be appreciated so well in the dark. Besides the meadow is riddled with rabbit holes; I wouldn’t want you to misstep and break an ankle.”

“Ah.” He raised his eyes toward her. Luminescence crept in at the corners. Once the sun had gone completely down, those eyes would be completely aglow. “That would be unfortunate. I…look forward to tomorrow then.” It was hard to read whether he believed her. His gaze showed some relief, but the wrap of his tail around his leg still spoke to some embarrassment. Nevertheless, some of his old exuberance slipped through the cracks in his politeness. “It was a joy–no, an honor–to begin making your acquaintance.” 

Umbra forced eye contact until he turned away, prompted toward the house by Madeline’s beckoning. A cold feeling had lodged itself in the middle of her chest. 

She hoped the officiator would come fast.

[woooyeahbaby]

aprilluc day 9: vampire

warnings: blood, blood drinking, established relationship, gender neutral reader, reader takes their shirt off (there are no sexual themes), if i’ve missed anything let me know

a/n: sooo another short one, sorry. i didn’t even remember i was supposed to do this until 8pm 😭 so i apologize if this feels rushed (cuz it kind of is…) the next day is cowboy, but idk if i’ll do it. i’ll surprise you with the next one i guess

admittedly, dating a vampire had it’s ups and downs.

nearly passing out from blood loss when allowing him to get his fix? not the best. but having been with you for a few years at this point, he knew just the right point to stop. not that it made it any easier, however you felt it was only fair to give something back in return for everything he has done for you.

now, it’d been a week or two since he last fed off of you. he’d always give you time to recover before his next meal from you. it helped him learn self control, but if he couldn’t help himself, he would have to go hunting. only small animals, such as rabbits or sometimes foxes.

it would be some time in the afternoon, giving your blood time to reach its regular flow rate. he’d always ‘initiate’ the same way.

“honey,” diluc says softly, his calloused yet gentle fingers brushing against your shoulder. “how are you feeling?”

“i’m okay. are you hungry?” you stand up from your seat at the dining table, turning your body to face him.

“yes, if you’re ready.” his hand remains in the same area on your shoulder, then slowly dragging his fingertips to the place on your neck with several scars from previous feedings. “here, or your wrist? whichever you’re feeling today.”

you ponder over it for a few seconds before deciding. “my neck is fine. here,” you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tilting your head to the side.

it was a simple routine now. diluc almost chuckled at how that had come about. the first few times he fed off of you it felt so awkward and unusual, and it was almost a beautiful thing how the strange became normal for you two.

“tell me when you need me to stop if i go too far, love.” he reminds you as he always does, as if you’d forgotten.

with that final warning, diluc places one hand on your bicep and the other on the side of your head before slowly sinking his teeth into your neck. you grunt at the initial pain, but having done this so many times, you learned how to deal with it. once diluc hears you take your usual few breaths to calm yourself, he begins to siphon the garnet coloured liquid from your veins and into his mouth.

as per usual, you felt the odd few droplets drip and leak down your shoulder, onto your back and chest, some even down your arm. diluc hated how messy he made you when he did this. not only did he have the guilt of literally draining the life from you, but also getting your beautiful body dirty. he would always take the time to clean you up after, though. but it wasn’t as if you would get angry with him for it anyway, you knew he needed sustenance, which was why you offered it in the first place when you first found out he was a vampire.

once you began to feel dizzy, you weakly tapped diluc’s arm with a gentle call of his name. he stops immediately, carefully pulling his fangs away from your neck as to not tear your skin any further. he cleans the remaining blood with his tongue, reaching into his chest pocket for a handkerchief that he’d use to apply pressure onto your still bleeding wound. he would always fix you up afterward, usually allowing you to eat something while he worked on your injury so you wouldn’t pass out on him.

“are you alright? i apologize, i think i dragged that one out a bit too long.” it was hard to take diluc seriously when his mouth and chin were covered in blood. it made him look like a child with a messy eating problem.

“it’s okay. i’ll be alright. just need to sit down.” your words are slightly slurred, nearly sounding as if you were drunk.

diluc helps you sit back down onto the chair you’d previously been in, still firmly holding his handkerchief to your bleeding neck.

“thank you, my love. i truly do appreciate that you do this for me so often.” there is pure love in his eyes as he says this to you. that look never changed whenever he would thank you for nourishing him. it was always the exact same look of pure adoration in his fiery eyes.

[nekioe]

au where c!Dream is a vampire. Because he heals faster none of the torture actually leaves any scares, except for one.

English is not my first languge and I don't write very often. I'm scared, pls be kind

cw/tw: Usual prison stuff, torture, a teeny tiny bit of gore?, mention of vomit but it doesn't actually happen, branding

He keeps no scars from the prison. Except for one. 

One day, Quackity brought one of those irons you use for branding wood. Usually, they're some kind of iron, but not this one. At first, Dream doesn't realize what's happening, Quackity doesn't heat it up in the lava as he’s done before with another iron. Instead he ignores the lava and walks around the chair and stops behind Dream. He tries to keep his breath under control, the anticipation is almost worse then the actual torture, he can’t see what Quackity is doing, he cant prepare himself for whatever pain that’ll come next. 

Then, all of a sudden, the cold metal meets his skin and it burns. Silver. Silver, it’s Silver. He can't stop the scream from escaping his throat as he flinches away, but tight ropes bind him to the chair and Quackity’s hand lashes out and keeps him in place. His skin sizzles as the silver digs into it. It was worse then any torture he’s been through before. the scorching agony as the pure, holy, silver meeting with his twisted flesh, an abomination, a cursed being that should’ve long been dead. He can't think, he burns and he tries to grasp for something, anything to stop it but there's nothing he can do. The ropes bind him too tight. He hears a voice crying, sobbing, begging for the pain to stop. And it sounds a bit like him, but it's hard to concentrate as a thousand knives rip through his back simultaneously as it turns to fire.

Suddenly, Quackity stands right in front of him, silver pole in hand. He didn't notice it get retracted, his back still burns and writhes in pain. Ugly sobs wrack his body as he tries to gasp for air he doesn’t really need, for release that won’t come. He just wants this to be over, he just wants this to stop, please just make it stop. He feels fucking pathetic. 

Before him, Quackity holds up the silver piece and quietly observes it, he flicks away a bit of burned flesh that falls and squishes when it collides with the floor. Dream holds back vomit. Quackity wears no gloves. Why would he? he’s human, the silver doesn’t burn him. It only burns impurities, creatures that shouldn't exist yet still do, creatures like Dream. His expression is indifferent as he handles the material, it feels like mockery. Maybe that's the point. Quackity looks up and smirks when he makes eye contact with Dream. Then, he takes a step closer and disappears behind Dream again, and before Dream can even flinch or open his mouth to beg, his back is on fire again. 

Months after the torture and the prison that burn scar still remains. Everything else healed within a day or two, leaving no trace of what had happened, but the silver mark on his back stayed. It serves as a reminder, a branding.

[alicerosejensen]

Warning: mention of blood, mention of ptsd in the reader, mention of miscarriage, the reader has encountered a bioweapon in the past, scars, irritated Leon.

synopsis: Despite the fact that three years have passed, the past does not leave you alone. Your nightmares and scars are always a reminder of what you were able to survive.

Note: I tried to play this scenario with Leon but I never managed to bring him to the emotions that I wanted from him. Therefore, there will be one very tense moment with the reader and Leon.

It was not worth starting a relationship with a person if you yourself still can not deal with your demons.

All the horrors experienced have remained officially documented by the BSAA and are marked "classified". For three years now, a thick folder has been gathering dust in the archive with all the photographs from the scene of the incident and, probably, more than a hundred sheets of a written report with dry statements of facts. But the paper will never convey the emotions that you experienced. It even looked like a mockery from the guys from the Alliance, although you actually owe Chris Redfield a lifetime for the fact that he was able to save you, but you didn’t feel a ny gratitude to him after all these interrogations.

Some part of you was even angry at him for some reason, although you didn't understand what exactly you were angry at him for, but you were under a special protection program because the bastard who gave you a personal hell was still alive.

You have so many scars… not only on the soul, there are a lot of them on the body. The largest was left to you by a creature that dug its claws deep into your shoulder and part of your back. It's a miracle that you survived after meeting him. However, your friend and fellow student Lucas was able to sew up the wound without anesthesia, which is why you now have a terrible scar with uneven edges. Sometimes, in particularly rainy weather, it even seems to hurt.

You once joked that if you got into a house with monsters, you would be the very character who would have died at the beginning of the movie. It's just the will of fate, on the contrary, you were the only one who survived in that hell, while others died a cruel death.

On nights like these, you wake up in a cold sweat. You shivered from the cold as you jumped up and down in bed from another nightmare. The TV was illuminating the dark room, showing some kind of comedy show. Outside, thunder rumbled with might and main, and heavy rain poured down so that the neighboring high-rise building across the road was hard to see. Cool air circulated through the room through the open window, forcing you to put your arms around your shoulders and get out of bed to lower the glass. In one sweat-soaked T-shirt and shorts, you were uncomfortable, especially since your heart was beating wildly, trying to cope with fear. Leon wasn't around and you had no idea if he was in his apartment or still on a mission he never talked about.

But it was even better. You don't have to see his sour face, because you don't understand the reason for these nightmares, because you never told him about it, even though he was a government agent, and you couldn't help but think that Leon had long ago requested all the information about you, right down to dental records. He just respects your boundaries, so he doesn't talk about it, however, no matter how much pressure he has exerted trying to find out the truth over the past few months, now he is telling you that he doesn't own this information. Not yet. Apparently, he respected you very much and that you did not want to talk about what happened to you. He sees such horrors almost every day, and you still cannot forget that sick bastard who dipped your pregnant friend in a solution of piranhas. Her screams and the picture frozen in front of your eyes still make you curl up into a ball, trying to survive another trigger, after which you cannot recover for several hours from the fact that your stomach is turning inside out, and blood is pounding in your ears along with other cries.

Right now you are sitting on the bed, rubbing your face with the palm of your hand, startled by a sharp knock on the door. Nausea kicks in again as you get to your feet and look at the clock on your nightstand at 1:23 a.m. You did not expect guests, but someone very persistently knocks on the flimsy door, and when you finally open it, you see Leon, who is soaking wet through, who also sees that you are not in the best condition.

Nothing new.

You let Leon inside your very small apartment in which you have been living for three years, and he immediately took off his leather jacket, hung it on a hook, and put the gun on the cabinet next to where the vase with the keys lay.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your shoulders, silently looking at him as he took off his shoes and placed them next to yours.

"Are you okey?" he asked in an unruffled voice. Almost annoyed, looking straight into your pale face. You were still shaking and your bedding was completely disheveled.

"Yeah" Your voice gave out a completely different intonation. you haven't been fine for a long time "I'm fine".

"I see," he almost quipped, but you ignored the sarcasm. "Do you even sleep without me, my little china?"

"When you came back?" quietly asked you ignored his question.

"A couple of hours ago. Got caught in the rain"

He stood up to his full height hugging you. His hands were ice cold, but Leon himself remained warm, like a heating pad at the perfect temperature. His scent entangled your nose and strong arms inspired a sense of security. He put his hand on the back of your head, feeling that even your hair was sweating.

Officially, you have not parted, and his presence testified that he still cherishes you. Leon's lips touched your right temple, while his hands pressed you closer to it.

"I could run the bathtub for you. You're all wet and shivering"

At one time, you thought you could drown in the feeling of love. As if the awe at the sight of this man could help to displace all this horror and help you start life from scratch. But it was only a short-term effect. Leon Kennedy is like a good painkiller that temporarily dulls your post-traumatic syndrome so that you can sleep peacefully for at least one night without twitching, screaming or jumping out of bed. But like any other medicine, it has the property of stopping the miraculous effect. Leon had angelic patience, he did not rush you, hope that in time you will tell him everything yourself, but it was no longer enough. To be more precise, his patience was almost over two months ago, and then he was called on a mission and you did not discuss this incident in such a way.

Maybe it was his belated "forgive me?" You thought about it when you heard him draw water in the bathroom, it's even a little funny. Because about four hours ago you were lying on the tile trying to cope with another attack after which there was a huge mess. You could literally feel this oppressive atmosphere on your skin when he opened the door and saw the scattered shampoos and shower gels along with various lotions and other things. Leon even put a little order there, although sometimes it already seemed that it was easier to burn down this apartment and repair it again.

And yet he didn't say anything. A couple of minutes later he found you sitting still in the semi-darkness on the bed. It would have been worth turning off the TV, but you couldn't fall asleep in complete darkness, so Leon did it instead of you, holding out his hand to you to get into the bath with you and warm up a little. A chill ran over your skin causing a herd of goosebumps when he helped you take off your wet T-shirt and throw it into a full laundry basket along with the rest of the things that should have been washed long ago.

His head was resting on your shoulder while his hands, warmed in hot water, were hugging your belly. Leon didn't ask any questions, but you could feel all his fatigue. Not only from the mission that ended, for the most part, you and your distrust were the cause of fatigue.

There were no words at all, even when, after bathing, he wrapped you in a terry towel, finding clean things in a half-empty closet. Leon straightened the bedclothes while you were sitting on a chair in only your panties and his old red shirt, which was too big for you. In fact, you were literally drowning in it, but at the moment it was the only clean thing in your wardrobe.

"Will you sleep with me?" - an awkward question that stumped him for a second when he looked at the battered you, but Leon came to his senses pretty quickly with a quick nod of his head. "I promise I won't kick painfully in my sleep"

You tried to smile but he didn't seem to appreciate your attempt.

"You're mad at me right?" You knew without his confirmation that yes. But he was most likely not angry, but offended by your distrust, however, if you started telling him, in the end you would only drown even more in those bloody memories that haunt you.

And you knew why. Leon's face was completely haggard, but at the same time his gaze became completely empty. He didn't even look at you. He threw a pillow at the head of the bed and was silent because he knew that now, touching on this topic, in any case, everything would end in a quarrel. Because Leon is tired of losing.

On the other hand…he still loved you and it's not so easy to do something with his feelings. You didn't get an answer from him, but you felt the man's fingers gently tracing along the line of your scar on your back, smoothly passing to your shoulder. He saw similar ones, knew that he could leave a similar trace, but he only assumed that you saw some kind of bioterrorist attack. Maybe you've been to Terragrigia? hunters left similar scars.

Leon continued to look at your back, running his finger over other small marks, so you tried not to flinch from his touch, although they evoked unpleasant memories from three years ago. It would be better if he shouted at you, but kept silent! This silence was more frightening than quiet rage. Leon put his hand on your stomach, and you felt him pressing you to him, nuzzling your neck. Of course, it doesn't take a lot of intelligence to understand that you didn't sleep, just like him, but he still needed time to digest your miscarriage in his head, while you had already let go of this situation.

You remember the delay and the two strips on the pregnancy tests that Leon found later. In fact, you didn't even have time to get used to the idea of motherhood because there was such a mess in your head that there was simply no place for a child there. Well, Leon's work practically excluded the presence of a family, but this did not mean that somewhere in his contract a similar clause was written. He wanted his family, even if at least one child, but your pregnancy was definitely not planned.

It just happened that way.

You thought that he would be angry, that he would shout at you and destroy you completely, but the second he knelt down in front of you, his hands closed on your lower back and his head pressed against your belly. He was scared, but Leon was glad. He is not the kind of person in whom happiness spills over the edge, his work has made him quite detached and stingy with emotions in a sense, but you saw in these blue eyes a dream and hope. Leon wanted to give his child something that he himself did not have, and at the same time hoped that this circumstance would help you let go of what you never told him.

Peace flowed through his veins, allowing him to build bright dreams in his head about a small family to which he could return and seek healing after meeting BOW. However you needed healing too!

Constant fear, lack of appetite against the background of strong emotions from these rolling triggers, incessant stress… Leon fell in love with this child when he could not be called such yet and he took care of you trying to hold you tighter at night so that nightmares would not touch you.

Leon understood what happened when you curled up in a ball again and screamed in your sleep. The lower abdomen was pierced by pain, but in a dream you were torn to pieces by one of the monsters, whereas in reality the whole bed was covered with blood from what you lost baby. He didn't need any words from doctors to understand that he wouldn't become a father. The doctors said that it was possible, that it was not worth dwelling on what had happened and that in the future you could still have children, but Leon turned away and barely held back tears.

Because it wasn't an accident. Not the rejection of your body from a new life because of some incompatibility with him. No, it was because you were still living in a horror that you hadn't told him about until now.

Then Leon got really drunk.

"I'm sorry," you squeaked, watching as she poured the amber liquid into a glass, grinning crookedly. Your miscarriage was just the last straw. You were discharged from the hospital, but you still felt terrible and not so much physically as emotionally.

And Leon was angry. Something inside him snapped…you could tell by the heavy look in his eyes and the way he was clutching the glass in his hand. It wasn't a miscarriage. It was your secret that you didn't want to tell him so much and that you didn't want to plunge into again.

No one had the words. There was only one anger inside Leon that he needed to vent somewhere. You heard his mocking laugh as he turned away from you, pouring himself another shot of whiskey.

"Are you sorry?" he asked again and everything inside you turned cold from his intonation "Are you fucking sorry? Are you serious?! How long is this shit going to go on? What the fuck happened there that you lost my baby because of it?! We've almost become a family!"

It was the end.

You froze when he threw the glass into the wall and it broke into small pieces, making you flinch from the noise. His blue eyes darkened with anger and his lips tightened into one thin line because Leon wanted this child even if you never discussed starting a family. Kennedy wasn't just angry, he was furious. At you.

"Speak!" he ordered, and the tone of his voice made your legs shake, but you still took a few steps back. "I'm tired of this shit. So you either tell me everything yourself or I'll find out for myself."

An opaque hint that he would take advantage of his position as an agent without a second thought and Chris Redfield would lay out that thick folder in front of him. It wasn't a crime. It wasn't your fault when you thought you had pulled out a lucky ticket to the desired trip, but in fact this ticket turned out to be hell. It's unlikely that Leon will get angry at you through what you've been through, he still loves you, he just really hoped that this baby would be healing for you and him.

You just want to forget it.

"Where did you get these scars? What are you so afraid of?"

He asked the same questions over and over again, but now he was doing it so bitterly that in the end your back rested against the wall and there was nowhere else to pay off.

"I can't.." you whispered with your lips almost without making a sound, after which you shuddered when Leon's fist hit the wall and his knuckles broke to blood.

The pictures of what happened rise up again before your eyes, as well as that animal fear of death with which it is impossible to part. Leon doesn't understand that it's hard and scary, but he himself has never really talked about Raccoon City, so you hoped that he could understand why you can't get along with him. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, but he ignores them as well as his own pain in a bloody hand. You both walk on thin ice that is about to crack, dipping your bodies into the icy water of rejection to each other.

Leon is tired of secrets and your "I can't" only spurs his anger.

"Tell me now!" His grin is frightening.

Loen feels the same surge of energy when he saw Patrizio come running to ask him for help after the betrayal. Of course he has no desire to beat you or hurt you in any other way, but he NEEDS to know the truth why it happened. Why your injury prevents you from living.

"Because of this, you lost my baby and I want to know the reason. I could have become a father, we could have become a fucking family if not for your eternal silence! I respected your decision when we met, I was waiting for you to open up to me, but it can't go on forever! I don't have endless fucking patience!"

Then you felt the adrenaline mixed with rage injected into your blood, giving you such strength that you easily pushed Leon away from you, from which he recoiled in surprise, albeit only for a few seconds. He blamed you for what happened, even if he didn't say it out loud, and you tried to overcome the bloody memories that rolled over you in heavy waves. All these terrible deaths…. which your classmates and teacher didn't deserve such a cruel death, their screams that wake you up almost every night, you literally survived all the hell rides before Redfield pulled your ass out of there, but mentally you're still there.

He was partly right when he suggested that you start seeing a therapist to deal with this. But you couldn't go because you were trying to escape from your own fear.

"This is my personal!" With the same rudeness in her voice, you shouted in his face. "This is something that only concerns me! You also never talk about what happens on your missions!"

You tried to hit him with words in response, but Leon easily parried you.

"Don't confuse my work with my personal life! I don't even have the right to tell anyone about it, but we are together. I wanted to help you! You know, that's what people do when they love each other - they help each other, provide support! But you always push me away, but now I have the right to know what happened to you. I respected you and your desire because I understood that you needed time, but this time was more than enough. MY BABY DIED BEFORE IT WAS BORN!

He blamed you for it. Not directly, of course not, but it was even worse. You recoiled from him, felt this pang of guilt that he was trying to instill in you, and you yourself stopped understanding whether it was your fault or it was just an unfortunate coincidence. You were able to say so much shit to each other without insults in a short time, but then when you needed his support the most, Leon cracked.

"I want to hear it from you and not from Redfield," he said, but hot tears of resentment were already flowing down your cheeks, "I tried not to mix work and my personal life, so I never climbed further than I could, preferring to wait for you to trust me with your pain, to share it with me, but what happened…" His the voice became calm, but there were still notes of irritation in it. "I need to know. It's not just your personal anymore, it hurt both of us."

At that moment, it seems that time has stopped. You heard the slow sound of the hour hand on the clock and even his heavy breathing, feeling at the same time a piercing look to the depths of your soul at yourself, the onslaught of which you could not withstand, lowering your eyes like a guilty child.

It was too much for you to handle. Swallowing saliva, you sat down on the couch, hearing him exhale noisily while closing his eyes.

If only you could turn back time… but it's not even that Leon finds out what happened there, but that he doesn't understand how much it hurts you.

"I need to know." he repeated again.

The minutes of silence seemed like an eternity. You continued to cry, biting your lips until they bled, just not to sob. For a brief moment, you really tried to force yourself to tell him everything, but your brain put some kind of blockage, which made the words stuck in your throat and thoughts began to get confused turning into porridge. You just couldn't do it, and in the end, without hearing the answer, Leon just slammed the door.

You knew that when he came back, the truth would come in soon. On the one hand there was a feeling of betrayal and on the other of lightness.

But in the end, all the tears and sobs finally burst out, forcing to drown in this abyss of suffering again.

Leon had his own experiences and demons that he encountered at work, but that year destroyed you forever and no love with support is able to glue the broken parts of the soul.

He was a government agent.

You are a student who fell into the clutches of a mad psycho who turns people into monsters. These rivers of blood in which you had to swim to escape did not make you an invincible armada. They've made you a shadow of your old self.

Leon Scott Kennedy was not on your side and you were slowly burning in this flame alone.

And then he sent a short text message in the morning that he was urgently called and he would not be home for a while. You noticed this message only after two days of mutual silence. Then you went back to your apartment.

This folder is on his desk. Closed, although he tried to open it and find out the reason. It only took a couple of calls and a little bit of annihilation for Hannigan to get all the information on you. Leon did not expect that besides this yellow folder you had some dark spots in your biography. They weren't there, but the way Redfield gave him the papers made him realize that the case was rubbish.

He didn't open it. He was given a copy that is lying and gathering dust at his house. Three months of no connection and Leon just hugs you to him like before and you fall asleep while he tucks his wet hair behind his ear. Of course you won't tell him anything, but for the first time in many months, your dream turns out to be dreamless, which is why in the morning, despite the cold walking around the apartment and the same disgusting weather outside, you wake up refreshed, enveloped in the warmth of Leon's body.

Part of him still thought he had a right to be mad at you, but the other part hated himself for that night. Leon hated to see your tears and preferred to do everything possible to make a smile appear on your face, but after that the split in your relationship was too strong.

And yet you somehow strangely influenced each other instilling hope for the best. Inside, the long-awaited peace immediately spread, forcing all experiences to retreat.

The dampness outside the window, the quarrel, the loss of the child that Leon wanted so much that he even started looking for a house where the three of you could live - it's all left somewhere behind. It was just him and you right now. His lips gently touched the scar line on your back, kissing it. Maybe you just need more time, some people sometimes take several years to finally reveal their secrets. However, it would really be easier to pretend that Leon miraculously found out everything himself. You thought that was why he behaved like that.

However, he could never look into this part of your life without permission. Instead of questioning, you felt his kisses on your cheeks and temple, and the way his hands gripped you tightly as you lay wrapped in a blanket.

"I thought about breakfast but we overslept it" he smiled.

Indeed, the clock on the bedside table showed almost noon. You would actually sleep a little more like this in his arms and luckily for you, Leon allowed your brain to enjoy the long-awaited rest.

A few more tender kisses and a change of position in bed made you doze off listening to the falling raindrops outside. Leon also seems to have closed his eyes from accumulated fatigue.

now his palm is stroking your back under the covers gently soothing you. Even breathing and trembling eyelids in a dream testifies to the sensitivity of your sleep, but Leon knows how to be quiet. His thumb draws circles on your back as his lips caress your forehead. He really regretted his words but not his actions. He needed to talk about what was going on. This may not be right, but his patience is by no means unlimited, so he was going to open that folder with your information soon.

Leon believed that this now applies to him, too. His lips smoothly touch the small scar on your forehead peeking out from under your hair. You startled but didn't wake up.

after about a couple of hours, Leon still made you get out of bed and eat despite the lack of appetite. A couple of sandwiches and coffee to cheer up, in fact, there was little in the refrigerator for cooking something more complex. Therefore, you ate what was. Then you asked him a question.

"Have you...been with Chris?" asked awkwardly as Leon tapped his fingers on the tabletop.

again that heavy look of his. Sometimes you thought he didn't need any weapons. It is enough just to look at the enemy and he himself surrender to him.

"I still want to hear the truth from you and not from a dry text"

He didn't lie. You looked at him thinking that it would be better if he did not come at all. Leon never shared his experiences and you didn't want to load him with yours.

He didn't say a word about Raccoon City, so why should you share what you've been through with him?

"Chris gave me all the papers but I didn't have time to go through them." he answered honestly.

He thinks that you will hate him if he crosses this line. It is worth opening that folder once and everything that you have built together will finally collapse.

"So maybe you shouldn't stick your nose in my business?" The way you snapped at him made him smirk.

"Your business or yours with Chris?" counter attack. Redfield has kept you on top of his head ever since in case they want to take you again. "Let's settle this issue once and for all"

You startled. Unpleasant vibrations ran through his body from the intonation in his voice.

"It was a bioweapon. Hunters?" Leon assumed it was because of the scar. He was right when he suggested that it was a bioweapon, only you had no idea what this fanged creature with razor-sharp claws was called.

"I have no idea," you still rudely replied. You weren't even lying though.

The only major unpredictable monster was the man behind it all and not these creatures.

"Haven't I even earned a drop of your trust? We've been together for quite some time. We ate, we slept in the same bed, we had sex... we have a relationship with you and this relationship implies trust between partners!" Leon raised his voice, gripping the tabletop with his knuckle-whitened hand. You narrowed your eyes at him while he did not understand this stubbornness.

"This is what I want to forget and not remember!" you raised your voice in response, thinking that he was going too far. "Stop it! Just because Redfield knows everything doesn't make him special, he got me out of this shit, that's the whole story!"

"I want to know what the hell was that! Where the hell did you get in that you jump up every night and lie like a beaten animal?!" He believed he had a right to know. He waited too long, he calmed you, put you in order, but any patience comes to an end.

Leon spent a night in Raccoon City that changed his life forever. You spent almost a year in the wilderness watching friends and innocents die.

One has only to think about these nightmares, as they cover with the head. At some point, obsessive thoughts of suicidal content even began to creep into you, and there was a moment when Leon even took the knife from your hands, fearing your gaze. The same knife that Redfield allowed to keep.

"I can't..." Your heart rate increased so much that it seemed to jump out of your chest. Maybe you just need more time. "You can't even imagine what it was like for me there. What I experienced ... it's not that it's so easy to tell, even if years pass, I won't be able to"

Leon took a deep breath. On the one hand, everything was clear to him and he didn’t want to extort the truth from you, knowing that it causes you tangible discomfort, but how to help you if you are silent all the time? It is necessary to treat the disease and not get rid of the symptoms.

"If you can't live without this information, then you can use your government agent connections. I wonder why you didn't do it sooner."

"I want to hear it from you, I want you to trust me." Leon grabbed your hand, lightly squeezing your palm "I hoped that this child would help us, but if we want to move on we must do it together. You and me, not separately"

He was partly right, and that pissed you off. You just wanted to climb somewhere and sit quietly until he left. You've been fighting for so long that now there's no strength left and all you just want is to forget… Leon wants to go through this stage together, but It Can't Last. You can't go forward because you're stuck there. Leon gives you a helping hand, but does not give you the keys to the cage in which your mind is locked.

Mirthless days in which all hopes have passed. You wonder what Leon really wants from you - he's seeking some truth while you continue to grieve for that innocent part of yourself that died. As a result, you meet eyes and Leon offers you only two options for the development of events

"Either we go together or separately"

No third option.

Leon is ready to take nine steps forward to you if you take one step towards him, but he can't drag you on endlessly, no matter how much he loves you. It's right to fight together against common nightmares, Leon is sure that he can help you, only you need to open up to him and trust him. Let that damn folder lie in his desk with all the details, the main thing he needs to learn from you.

You have a choice and you look at him with eyes full of tears standing at a crossroads like then. The butterfly effect where your decision will easily affect the further outcome of events. You rub your shoulders feeling a slight chill and in fact the tea that Leon made for you has been cold for a long time, you had no idea how long you had been sitting at this table.

To remember everyone who died there, and how at some point you were left all alone with your main fear - loneliness. While Leon is patiently waiting for your answer, you want things to be completely different. He wants it too, but you can't change the past. You can't resurrect the dead, and your hands still remember how to reload weapons, although you had to learn it right away in practice.

It makes no sense to measure your injuries, Leon faces this almost every day, but he never considered your injury to be nonsense. He's realized what it's like to live with a nightmare inside of him, and the last thing in the world he wants is for it to ever ruin you, but when he reaches out to you, he hopes that you will grab him tightly so that he can pull you out of this sucking swamp.

In the end, you look back at him after making a decision. Gathering your thoughts, swallowing a bitter lump that prevents you from speaking, you get up from your chair and go to the bookshelf from where you take out a worn polaroid photo of your group from the book. A photo taken three years ago shortly before all the traumatic events. Five smiling successful students and a respected group leader. He was almost sixty, but he looked very good… true, you do not remember his gray, well-groomed beard, but his body dismembered in two.

Then you didn't know that you would be the only one alive in this photo.

You hand it to Leon, sitting back down, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Thoughts are confused, as are words. Leon seems to look at the extended photo without emotion, recognizing only you on it, but understands that you will go through this together.

"It's hard, but I'll try. Maybe not right away, but I will"

Leon puts the photo on the table and nods at you, taking your hand in his, after which you feel only warmth and peace helping to start a long, hard story.

[actuallysaiyan]

Can I get SFW #5 with Nanami? *-* I just feel like he'd be so tender and that prompt fits him so well

warnings: mentions of wounds, blood, Nanami being so daddy and so tender, Nanami is a little sappy in this one, fluff.

Nanami had been your mentor for a while. Really, he was someone you looked up to when you both were students. He was your upperclassman, your senpai. He made you see the reality of being a sorcerer. And when he decided to leave the sorcerer life all together, you all but joined him. It had been Satoru who begged you to stay and begged you to remain a sorcerer and to teach at the school. And so you decided to stay, longing to reunite with the man who taught you everything.

When Nanami returned, you were partly nervous and partly excited. Seeing him now was something different. He was taller and more handsome. Your heart skipped a beat when he greeted you again. This wasn't the same Kento you remembered. This was a more tired and worn down man, and yet you still longed to learn from him and be his sidekick once more.

Eventually he settled into the lifestyle once more and this allowed the both of you to get close. Now that you were adults, things turned a bit more romantic for the both of you. You couldn't help but come to terms with the fact that you were falling in love for Kento and you didn't want your feelings to stop anytime soon.

One day, after a particularly hard mission, you end up with a few wounds. You stumble away from the scene, clutching your side. Nanami is the first one there at your side, pressing his hand to your bleeding wound. You gasp at the sudden pressure, and you lean against him.

"I've got you," he whispers in your ear. You feel instantly comforted by him, as you always have.

After a few reports from the incident, Nanami takes you home to patch you up. He had made sure the bleeding stopped before going back to the school. When he realized you'd be okay, the two of you hurriedly filled out your reports before heading out.

And when you get to his place, you're instantly reminded of why you love this man so much. He's meticulous and calculated, but he has such a big heart. He sets you down on his bed and he goes to fetch his first aid kit. When he asks you to remove your shirt, you're embarrassed.

"No need to hide from me," he says in a soothing voice. "You know that you're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on."

Your heart beats faster and harder, and Nanami leans in to seal this all with a passionate kiss. He helps you out of your shirt, and he cleans the wound for you. The whole time, you're just at a loss for words. But the more he bandages you, the more you can feel the love coming through all of his actions.

And with that, you slowly take off his shirt. You want to make sure he's okay too. You find a few scratches and bruises, but nothing serious. The both of you just take your time caress and exploring one another's bodies. Nanami looks at the scratches and scars you've received as a sorcerer. He thinks back on the time missed with you.

You locate every beauty mark and mole, pressing kisses to his most vulnerable and sensitive erogenous zones on his chest. He lets out moans and sighs that he never knew he was capable of. For the first time in a while, he is very relaxed. Once you're bandaged up, Nanami and you spend the rest of the evening cuddling and tracing over old scars and moles.

Nothing could compare to this kind of love.

[azaliyas]

summary : it's hard for you to think you're beautiful when scars from your past linger on your face. but do these men think the same, that those scars of yours minimise your beauty?

word count : [ to be added later ]

genre : angst with comfort.

cw / tw : mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of war, mentions of fights, reader being uncomfortable with their looks.

characters : childe, baizhu, gorou, kaeya, kaveh.

note : always remember you are beautiful no matter the way you look. you're unique the way you are and that's part of your charm ♡

ajax | childe | tartaglia

no, not at all. should they?

he was a seasoned warrior. he was the first one whose body was covered in battle remains, and he was so goddamn proud of each one of them. and he thought you should be too.

so when he learnt you didn't like them, and even try to hide them as much as possible, he was taken aback. why would you cover the memories of what you fought and won against to? that was nonsense!... for him, at least.

when you explained to him that you got them because of a childhood accident and that, since then, people have been looking at you with pity, making you take a huge dislike to them, he felt shocked.

anger started bubbling up in his blood. he wished to inflict to the people who caused your accident the same kind of pain they made you experience, but ten times worse. he only stopped his thoughts because you told him so.

somehow the topic moved onto dating and, upon hearing people refrained from going with you because your scars, according to them, "ruin your overall pretty face", he was at it all over again.

how did they dare to say you couldn't be dated because of your scars?! you were the freaking cutest person liyue harbor could have given birth to! for bloody abyss' sake!

and he told you that, he told you how damn cute and beautiful you were, and that in his eyes your scars were bonus points, because warriors have scars, and warriors are prideful! and you should keep up to this!

to further prove his point, he kissed that big scar you could never manage to properly hide. his rough and bitten lips felt surprisingly soft against your sensitive skin, your cheeks warming up at the gentle touch.

«never let those idiots have the better of your thoughts ever again, you got me? you're stunning even like this- no, even more, because you managed to live past it. you're pretty, always remember that, okay?»

baizhu

of course not, how could they?

however, he could understand why you were so prone to think otherwise. like him with his chronic sickness, you didn't want people to know about such an unsavoury (according to you) feature you had.

but unlike him, you couldn't hide it from other people, not at all at least. it pained you, and he could see that. your eyes turning down whenever they witnessed a pitiful look from someone were enough to understand how you felt.

if he could, he would give you an ointment to put over them, but the cuts that left you those scars have long healed, since you got them at an early age.

he would ask you how you got such scars, and upon hearing it was because of a wild animal attacking you, he felt displeased. how could your guardian let that happen? where were they at that time?

it reminded him of qiqi's accident that had her get her vision but also turn into a zombie — an absent guardian that couldn't do the only thing they were tasked to, their negligence causing pain to the small being that was entrusted into their care.

you would dismiss that, telling him you didn't resent your guardian because it was your fault for running away to explore, not caring about the wild surroundings, but he would disagree.

a small argument would follow, but it would die down as quickly as it started. he was only concerned about you, and you understood that. if all, it made your heart flutter for how caring he was toward you.

«i really can't stand the circumstances of how that happened, but unfortunately i can't go back in time and stop it from happening. but know that, even if you have scars, they don't conceal your beauty. and remember, beauty isn't only about looks, it is especially about one's soul. and yours is indeed magnificent.»

gorou

they could never.

but he could understand you. being a general meant having a lot of scars, so he knew the feeling of having eyes on you because of them.

except that, much like childe, he was proud of them. they were a reminder of how fiercely he fought for the freedom from the vision hunt decree, they showed how he was in the front line for his people and the entirety of inazuma.

and you knew that, because you took part in the war right by his side, together with aether and kazuha and your soldier companions.

it was right during a battle on nazuchi beach that you got your scars. you fell under the attack of a shogunate soldier and, hadn't it been for beidou and her claymore, you wouldn't have escaped it alive.

he thought that your scars were a proof of the courage you showed in battle, fiercely fighting because you believed in the principle of freedom and it was nonsense depriving people of theirs because of "eternity".

but now that the war was over and you were back to being a simple civilian, it was hard to not focus on your scarred body and face. before you were too busy in assuring your companions were safe, but now too much free time was sitting in your hands.

people's eyes were constantly on your face, witnessing the horrors of the war, pity in their looks as you passed by. and you hated that, hated it so so much that you ran away and found refuge on an isolated beach of watatsumi, under the moonlight.

he found you there, curled in a ball, one hand playing with the white sand as your face was hidden in your knees. you heard him but, even before you could try, he stopped you from running away again, his eyes poking holes into yours as he spoke, his hands holding yours.

«i know it's hard to stand people's gaze, i can feel it as well. but remember this: you fought in a war, you couldn't possibly get out of it untouched. your presence saved many soldiers and helped us win, because it was a group effort. if people can't go past your scars, ignore them, they didn't live what we did. i'm proud of how well you did, and you should be proud of yourself too.»

kaeya

tsk. you had some guts to think such nonsense.

as a knight, you were no stranger to fights and battles. it was part of your duty in protecting the land of the anemo archon, and you never regretted the pain, because you felt the loving embrace of lord barbatos' gentle winds reassuring you.

and it was that same embrace that you felt after a battle against some hilichurls during your patrolling route, amber by your side. you easily slashed the monsters off, and you thought it was over, a chilly breeze messing with your hair, helping you relax. and that was your mistake.

a huge mitachurl with an axe came from behind and attacked you. you, unprepared, were caught by surprise and took over by the monster, who managed to tower over you with his flaming axe. hadn't it been for amber, you wouldn't have gotten only scars.

after that episode jean forced you to take a break for a while, to relax and enjoy the peace of mondstadt. but on the first day, as soon as you stepped out and were among people, you wished you could run in the outskirts and never come back.

all the citizens' eyes were on your scarred face, still fresh and tinted in a strong hue of pink because of the blood rushing through. and it was enough to push you back inside your home and make you decide you won't go outside till you could go back to your knightly duties.

it was easy, then, to notice your absence in the hustle and bustle of the city life, kaeya noticed. he would go ask around about you, but with no success. so he would think to go directly to you and see for himself what pushed you to be a reclusive when you were normally always eager to be outside and enjoy the everlasting good weather in mondstadt.

seeing kaeya on your door was the last thing you were expecting, but he was still your captain and you couldn't possibly refuse his request to see you. so you let him inside, head low, hair covering your face. and of course he noticed, as he always did.

he went straight to the point, asking what has been wrong with you as of lately. at first you would try to drive the conversation in another direction to not answer and let him know about your thoughts, but kaeya was too smart for that, and you both knew it.

you gave up after just a few tries, and so you blurted out everything that happened, your thoughts and your insecurities. he listened to you carefully, silence filling the room... till he flicked your forehead — you were so stupid, really.

he took your hands in his, tongue clicking his cheek before he started talking.

«the almighty y/n down the weather because of a few scars? i was expecting much worse- and no, don't give me that look, you know deep down i'm right. have i taught you nothing about being charming even when you have strange quirks? i have an eyepatch, you have your scars, so what? people can't deny that your beauty is still there, it just got a new feature. not a big deal. so stop being dramatic, you're still as fine as a glass of death after noon.»

kaveh

those little scars aren't enough to hide your beauty from his prying eyes.

he was an art connoisseur, meaning any piece of art he landed his eyes on he could recognise its value. and you were the most precious one he has seen in his whole life.

that being said, he truly couldn't understand why you couldn't see yourself the same way he saw you. have your perception of yourself changed that much because of a few scars?

you were a matra working together with cyno and other higher-ups, being one yourself. so it's useless to say you were always on the front line, fighting side by side with the general mahamatra during certain missions or operations.

it was during an expedition in the desert that you and your group fell in an ambush, a fight soon breaking out. a fatui soldier smacked you down and his bullets reached your face, cutting all over and leaving bleeding wounds that scarred.

back to sumeru city after a period of rest cyno forced you to take, people started looking at you as if you were some sort of alien. and it pained you so much you no longer were able to hold your head up; your heart was full of hatred for your reflection, resentment for the fatui, anger for your incompetence in preventing such accident.

but all those thoughts would disappear as soon as kaveh got to know them, your rambling bursting out after you reached your limit. you weren't one to cry easily, so seeing your eyes red with tears had him realise how much it affected you.

he took you away to let you cry in peace, and waited for you to calm down before his words came out so you could listen to them clearly.

«you're currently in the middle of an emotional storm, and that's fine. i, unfortunately, can't understand the way you're feeling, but one thing that i understand is art. and you, y/n, you're the finest piece i have ever seen. it doesn't matter you have scars on your beauty, even ancient palaces have cracks, yet we still deem them of fine beauty. and that's your case too.»

© azaliyas 2023 do not copy repost translate or feed to ai

[axiadesu]

[malink]Silent Guardian

※malink.non-primitive setting

※Modern killer setting

--

This wasn't right.

Malon carefully closed the door to her home, a rusty smell in the air.

Someone had slipped in.

She pulled a hammer from the toolbox by the door, held it in her hand, and headed for the bathroom where the smell of blood was strongest.

Through the frosted glass door, she heard a suppressed, muffled grunt from inside.

It was a man. She judged.

Malon gripped the doorknob tightly and took a deep breath before quickly pushing the door open and stepping inside.

There was a man sitting in the tub behind the shower curtain, pointing a pistol at her.

He saw Malon enter and suddenly relaxed with a smile, his hand holding up the gun dropping helplessly.

"Sorry," he said, "to get you involved."

The man was a good-looking man, especially those eyes, which reminded Malon of children who were in school, always full of hope and promise for the future.

He was wearing a normal hoodie and sweatpants, but they were now stained with blood, even the bottom of the bathtub he was in had accumulated a thin layer of blood.

Malon's voice trembled a little, "What do you want? Money? Or medicine?"

"My name is Link." The man said, "I think I might need some stopgap pills and bandages."

Malon didn't understand why the man was telling her his name, but she replied, "Okay, okay, hemostats and bandages, I have them at home ...... I'll go get them for you now."

Malon stepped back facing Link while keeping a wary eye out for him to suddenly raise his gun and shoot.

She stepped out of the bathroom and briefly pondered whether or not to call the police. But as Malon recalled the way Link was looking at her, she subconsciously thought it best not to.

As quickly as she could, she grabbed the family medicine kit and returned to the bathroom.

Link had already removed his blood-stained top, revealing a toned upper body covered in scars.

He smiled at Malon and said, "I hope you didn't call the police. Because it would have been an extremely bad decision."

Malon's hand gave a lurch as he opened the pillbox and replied, "No, no. I didn't want to get in trouble."

"Good girl." Link spoke softly, but Malon felt her back fill with cold sweat.

"Please sterilize the tweezers and hand them to me." Link sat up and took a towel to wipe off the excess blood from his body.

It was then that Malon realized he had five stab wounds, two gunshot wounds, and multiple bruises.

She gave him a deep look, incredulous at Link's calm demeanor at the moment.

If these injuries were placed on an ordinary person, I'm afraid he would have fainted by now due to blood loss or pain, but Link was able to remain calm and even had the energy to spy on her.

Malon thought as she did as Link said.

Link removed the slug and didn't scream out a single word even though he was in cold sweat from the pain.

Malon timidly handed him gauze sprinkled with medicine and bandaged his wound.

"Right," Malon said with relief, "now I'm going to get you something to eat. Calm down, okay?"

Link nodded, leaning against the wall and slowly calming his breathing.

Link stayed at Malon's for three days until his wounds began to heal.

"I should go." Link said, arranging his gear, "You'd better get out and hide for a few months, take a vacation, visit family, whatever."

Malon leaned against the doorframe, pursing her lips and not saying anything.

Link sensed her silence and paused for a moment as he organized his guns, "...... Do you hate me?"

"...... I don't know." Malon said, "Maybe I'm just the unfortunate owner of that house you picked at random. Link, we've only known each other for three days, we can't talk about likes and dislikes."

She twisted her head into the kitchen and gathered up a canvas backpack filled with all kinds of emergency food and medicine.

Malon handed the bag to Link, "There are cookies, bread, water and some anti-inflammatories and bandages in there." She watched Link take it and added, "Next time don't make such a mess of yourself, not every unlucky person is as kind as me."

Link laughed softly, so softly that Malon even thought it was her own hallucination.

"Won't happen." He said, and then, taking advantage of the night, Link left Malon's apartment.

It was only two days later, and it was a weekend.

Malon was at home hanging out the laundry when a group of men burst into her house.

The one leading the group was a big man with a beard, who held a micro punch, pointed at Malon, who was pinned to a chair by two men, and asked, "Where is he?"

Malon felt his arm about to break, "Who are you asking?"

The bearded man gave Malon a punch that immediately swelled the corner of her mouth and the taste of blood instantly filled her mouth.

"Don't play games with me." The bearded man asked again, "Where's Link?"

Malon puked a mouthful of bloody foam at the ground, only to feel the entire left side of her face burning, and even her left ear was a bit clouded and hard of hearing.

"...... I don't know, he left, two days ago."

The bearded man stared at Malon for a moment, then suddenly smiled and said, "It's okay baby. As long as you're around, there's no worry about him coming back."

"Me?" Malon didn't understand, "I don't know him. He won't come back."

The bearded man froze, then laughed out loud. He waved at his subordinates and immediately someone brought a chair.

He sat not far from Malon, tapping his pistol against the palm of his hand, and said, "It seems like this guy is still quite a compassionate master. Surprisingly, he didn't tell you anything?"

Malon had a vague feeling that there was a hidden agenda here, but she wasn't going to answer it on the principle of less said, less done.

"It's such a pity that you're such a beauty, that this Link guy could hold back from showing his face in front of you? It's probably because he wants to protect you. But what's the use? It's still not found by us?"

The cold barrel of the gun slapped on the already swollen face, which was not a pleasant taste.

A round object was thrown through the door and exploded with a thud, filling the room with smoke.

It was followed by the sound of men screaming and cursing, cries of pain, and a few, barely audible, silenced pistol shots.

Malon only felt a release in both shoulders, followed by a man's arm around her waist. Before she could react, the man had flipped out the window with her in his arms.

Malon could smell her usual laundry detergent, and also the smell of blood mixed with powdered medicine.

Link's wound must have disintegrated again, she thought.

Link pulled Malon through a variety of narrow, dirty alleys, shaking off pursuer after pursuer, and arriving at a dwelling tucked away in the slums.

Link cautiously pulled the curtains tight and locked the doors and windows before he had time to glance at Malon.

The blood rushed to his head when he saw the wound on Malon's face.

He was tempted to ask who had done it and if it hurt, but felt that he was in no position to ask such a thing, and, moreover, that such a thing would seem very pale.

Malon noticed his gaze lingering on his face, so she pulled a forced smile and said, "It's okay, just a little bit from the butt of the gun."

Link averted his gaze and turned toward the kitchen, pulling an ice pack from the refrigerator and handing it to Malon.

Malon took it, pressed it to her face with a soft cry of pain, and asked, "What are you doing back here? Those men were looking for you."

"Perhaps it's time to commission you to leave here with me."

"...... Huh?"

With that, Malon asked, "So, what do I need to do? Throw away the calling card? Have no contact with anyone? Just like in the movies?"

Link was a little unresponsive, even looking a little rare and dumbfounded.

"No. ...... Uh, no." He thought for a moment and explained, "Those people's identities can't get on the stage, and they can't use official means. Send a message to your friends and loved ones, just say that you're out traveling."

Malon did as she was told. After sending the message, she asked, "Then why don't we call the police?"

Link was a bit helpless, "Because my identity can't be on the table either."

Both people fell silent.

Link turned to pack his bags, while Malon went to see what food there was in the kitchen that he could take with him.

After a few moments, Link said, "I'm sorry, Malon."

Malon took off her skirt and replaced it with Link's pants and bodysuit and asked, "How about this?"

Link looked at Malon in her own clothes and was stunned for a moment, "Why are you ...... why ......"

"Skirts aren't convenient. It's better to have pants." Malon said, folding the skirt and putting it in her backpack, "Count me as borrowing it from you."

She thought for a moment, then added, "You don't have to say you're sorry. It's not your fault."

Link didn't know how much the men had said to Malon, but he still said, "No, it's my fault."

When Malon got into Link's car, she realized she seemed to have forgotten to ask her destination.

"Where are we going?"

Link pursed his lips for a moment before saying, as if he had made up his mind, "West Coast, Limon Harbor, where their heads are. But we can't take a plane or a train. All the entrances and exits around Limon Harbor are guarded, and the only way to get close is by car. And," Link glanced at his backpack in the back seat, "I'm running low on ammo. There's no place around here where I can get ammo quickly."

"Okay." Malon said, pulling her seatbelt tighter, "I'll do as you say."

It wasn't a long ride to Limon Harbor, but the gang was in hot pursuit like maned dogs sniffing out carrion and would soon catch up with Link and Malon.

As the car pulled off the highway to the west, Malon finally sighed with relief when the scenery around them was no longer a thousand tall buildings, but scattered houses, large trees, and a few herds of cattle among the farmland.

When she was in the city, she was always worried that a speeding sedan would rush out of any intersection or a sniper rifle with a cold flash would stick out of the window of any house.

"My father's family had a farm like that." Malon said, "Fields full of wheat, sugar cane, and grapes."

She wasn't sure why she brought it up, but she continued slowly anyway, talking about the mooing black and white spotted cows, the bunches of grapes that seemed like alabaster, the wine hidden in the cellar, and the warmth of the fireplace on a winter's day.

"There it is." Link looked ahead at the motel and spoke, "We need to get some gas."

Malon's face was iced and is much better now.She said, "I'll book a room then." She paused and asked, "Want one or two?"

There was no semblance of lust in Link's eyes. He said firmly, "One room."

Link finished filling up the car with gas just as Malon asked the inn for dinner.They sat down together to eat in an open-air restaurant away from the crowds.

The food at the motel was cheap and awful, and the chickpeas in it were so hard they could have knocked one's teeth out.

Malon complained to Link in a low voice, "I'll make sure you try some real chickpea pasta!"

Link didn't hold back a laugh. He had eaten all kinds of food throughout his career, and at his lowest point he had eaten bread that had been sitting around for more than ten days and was as dry as a rock.

He wasn't a man accustomed to telling his woes, so he was silent.

Malon couldn't help but wonder, "What kind of people are chasing you? Killers? A gangster? A drug cartel?"

Malon's eyes were bright, revealing a bit of naivety.

Link was drinking water and choked when he heard this.

"Uh ...... practically all of them." He said, "They control the largest port of entry and exit for drugs on the west coast, and make their living by charging tolls, as well as doing a little buying and selling."

"So ...... you? Why did you go up against such a large organization?"

Link said gently, "I killed their last boss, and the one before that."

Malon was silent.

She even felt that Link was already very lucky to have survived until now.

Then, she heard Link continue, "And their cadres. I can't remember, anyway, that mission almost bloodied their top brass."

"...... Well." Malon said, "The man with the beard said that as long as I'm around, you'll be there. Link, what's this about?"

Link choked again, "Ahem ...... we'll talk about that later."

"Then teach me to use a gun."

"No way."

"Then tell me why the bearded man said that."

Link was silent for a long time, so long that Malon thought he was angry.

"...... Well, just this once and never again." He said, "I'll teach you to use a gun."

It seemed that thing was a deep, deep secret to Link. A secret big enough to cost Link everything, Malon thought.

She began to remember if she had seen Link on some occasion.

Perhaps a certain brush with the shoulder? Or maybe it was one of those vacations back home.

But no matter how much Malon tried to recall, she couldn't find a single image in her memory that overlapped with the man in front of her.

After a quick dinner, Malon followed Link back to his room.

He took out his rifle and disassembled it step by step in front of Malon, showing her which parts worked for what, and then restoring and loading the rifle in front of her.

Malon was smart, perhaps in part because she had grown up with a wide variety of farm implements, and she had to know exactly how they were constructed in order to fix them when they went wrong. In any case, Malon was a fast learner of gun construction.

They rested at the inn for the night and left while it was still light.

About ten minutes after they left, the bearded gang arrived at the motel and inquired about their whereabouts.

Malon leaned back in her seat, resting her hand on the window frame to feel the wind blow through her fingers.

Link glanced at her and reached over to unscrew the car radio.

"Oh, thanks." Malon said.

She unscrewed a few channels at random, then heard the hostess say, "There was an explosion in apartment 7 on Newport Avenue last night, and it has been reported that two people have minor injuries and no one has been killed. The public is urged to be aware of gas safety ............"

A cold sweat instantly broke out on Malon's back.

She looked over at Link, as if trying to get that hopefully slim answer out of him.

"I'm so sorry." Link said.

Malon fell silent, peeked over and picked up the box with the rifle from the back seat and began to fiddle with it.

After a long moment, Malon said, "...... Don't be stingy with your knowledge, Link."

Link opened his mouth and was about to say something when he suddenly looked cold, apparently seeing something in the rearview mirror.

"They're catching up."

Link jerked the steering wheel to the side, the sound of bullets whizzing away as they grazed the body of the car seemed extraordinarily inauthentic.

"Malon!" Link said, "Shoot and disrupt them! But don't get hurt."

The knuckles of Malon's grip on her rifle were white with exertion. She craned her head to peer out the window of the car, which was followed by about three or four cars, and a couple of guns that were sticking out the side of the window and spitting fire at them.

Malon felt like she should be panicking, overwhelmed, or even crying right now, but she was unusually calm, and the shooting techniques Link had taught her kept replaying in her mind.

Malon pulled the trigger.

A car's front wheels lost power and crashed into the curb at high speed.

Malon immediately retreated back into the car as a series of bullets grazed the window.

Link said, "Nice one!"

Malon gripped his rifle tightly, feeling his mouth go dry, "I've never ...... I mean, never shot one."

"Relax, Malon. We can lose them." Link said as he stepped on the gas.

Malon felt her adrenaline rush wildly as she took a deep breath and probed again.

She shot out the tires of a car once again.

Link looked in his rearview mirror and saw the car roll sideways before crashing into the car behind it.

"Good!" He said, "Now hold on tight!"

The engine groaned with overwhelming force, and the car sped off like a runaway bronco, leaving the ragged bearded party far behind.

As the car's speed slowly dropped, Malon realized that he was already covered in a cold sweat.

"Scared?" Link asked.

Malon slowed down and replied, "A little."

Link apologized to her for the fourth time, "I'm sorry."

Malon looked over at Link, who was looking intently at the road ahead, the sun shining from the other side and casting shadows on his face.

"Link, you have apologized to me many times." Malon said, "If it's for getting me into this strife, then I'm telling you that apologizing is unnecessary, because it's not your fault."

Link looked at Malon somewhat innocently and blankly, "Malon, I, uh, I mean ......"

"You need to apologize for anything other than my pathetic apartment - hmmm." She sneered, "It's the gang of criminals that are after us that should apologize!"

Link redirected his eyes to the road, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel.

I'm sorry, Malon. He thought. The real culprit, the one who caused all this to happen, was actually me. If you hadn't saved me back then, maybe none of this would have happened at all.

The atmosphere in the car went cold.

One stubbornly believed that the fault was his own. One stubbornly believed that the other should not apologize.

As the sun set in the west, they arrived at a run-down farm behind a small town.

Link jumped out of the car and said to Malon, "Stay in the car, okay? I don't want these guys to see you."

Malon glanced toward the farm and nodded.

Link smiled reassuringly at her and turned toward the farm.

After about an hour, it was completely dark, but the farm was still pitch black with no lights lit.

Just as Malon was about to get tired of waiting, Link walked out carrying two large suitcases.

He looked fine, no bruises, walking normally.

The car started up again and drove off into the distance.

"Sorry," Link said, "I'm afraid we're going to have to spend tonight in the field."

He parked the car in a secluded spot on the side of the road and said to Malon, "Want something to eat? Compressed cookies? Canned goods?"

Malon could tell he wasn't too happy, "Compressed crackers, please."

Link handed her an unwrapped compressed cracker and a bottle of water, "I'm going to go around the neighborhood for a bit, you can ...... um, take a spin."

Malon heard him and thanked him before getting out of the car and walking in the opposite direction from him.

Malon still hadn't stopped remembering.

She began to remember toward a time much older and younger.

Was it the cowherd who lived on the farm next door? Or the young son of the town grocery store owner. Or maybe it was the pastor's adopted son. ......

Malon returned to the car and noticed Link listening to a music station, so she said, "Oh, Self Destructive, I like it too."

The car was lit with a warm yellow reading light, and Link's eyes were lowered, his long lashes casting a regal shadow over his face.

"Really ?......," he said, "I don't listen to a lot of songs."

Malon thought for a moment and asked, "Link, are you a killer?"

"Yes." Link said, "I used to work for the royal family to protect their little princess."

"You mean ...... Her Highness Zelda?" Malon was surprised.

"Yes. Since the royal threat was removed, I retired." He continued, "I didn't realize that the guys on the West Coast would be shady. They didn't dare to trouble the royal family, so they came after me."

"How long have you been ...... fighting against them like this?"

"Can't remember. About four or five years. Since shortly after I retired from the royal family."

Malon looked at Link's sideways face and suddenly reached out, taking his hand on the steering wheel.

"Link." She said softly, "These years must have been hard on you."

Link's eyelashes fluttered slightly. He quickly turned his head and looked out the window.

"...... I'm used to it."

"No matter how many times you go through something like this, it must be tough." Malon said, "You could live on my father's farm. It's right in the central region, not too far from here. Or you could get a job in town with me, and we could go to the movies together on the weekends, go shopping, do whatever."

Link tried to look natural as he raised his hand to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes.

"...... Ok."

He raised his hand to turn off the reading light and tucked the blanket around Malon.

"Go to sleep. I'm here."

Malon lowered the seat and strained to see Link's face in the darkness, yet all she could see was a shadowed outline.

She said softly, "Good night, Link. Have good dreams."

Link turned off the radio, took out his headphones, and listened to the song Self Destructive several times over.

He lied.

He actually liked the song and listened to it quite often. Because Malon loved the song and loved listening to it.

He loved to see her swaying to the music with her headphones on, he loved to see her happy and laid back, and he loved to see those soulful and lively expressions on her face. He wished she was always that happy and never touched these gloomy messes.

Link reached out and gathered the blankets for Malon, and said softly in his heart, "I'm sorry, Malon, I can't fulfill my promise to you.

Over the next few days, Link found a small town and checked into a hotel with Malon.

He taught Malon all the knowledge of firearms without reservation, and even wrote a notebook to prevent her from forgetting.

After that day, Malon sensed a change of heart. Maybe it had changed a long time ago, she was just realizing it now.

She begins to fall somewhat hopelessly in love with Link.

Malon passed Link's firearms test.

"Very good." Link said, "We leave tomorrow."

Malon couldn't help but ask, "What are you going to do?"

Link's movement of putting away his gun gave a start, "What do what?"

"How to fix them? Didn't you say that Limon Harbor is full of them? Do you want to take on an entire gang single-handedly?"

Link didn't say anything, just put his things away.

At dawn, they set off again, and this time, Link didn't stop in the middle and drove all the way to the west.

Before entering Limon Harbor, Link dumped the car halfway and led Malon to an apartment building.

"Don't turn on the lights." Link stopped Malon's movements and said, "The owner of this house goes out all the time. Turning on the lights will expose us."

"Okay." Malon said, "When do we move?"

Link checked his guns as he returned, "It's not us, Malon, it's me. I only brought you here so that those people wouldn't take advantage of my absence to kill you, not to join me."

Malon froze, "What?"

Link hung his body full of various ammo, stood up, and looked at Malon, "Malon, promise me you'll hide here and keep quiet. They're bound to search every residence when it happens, and this is the only house that won't be checked. Be sure, be sure to stay here."

"I thought you did your best to teach me because you wanted me to do my part." Malon felt she had to do something, she felt she was losing Link, "Link, please be honest with me, what exactly is your plan?"

"Trust me, they won't bother you again." Link lifted his suitcase and walked towards the door, "There will be a check in the mail to your father in seven days with enough money to buy another new house."

"A house? No, Link, we're not talking about that." Malon pulled him back, "We've come all this way and you want me to stay in the house properly? Link, do I look like one of those naïve girls who don't know anything? Tell me your plan!"

Link sighed as he set down his suitcase and pulled the rope out of another box.

"Sorry, Malon." He easily caught Malon, who was trying to dodge. He tied Malon to a chair, "I'm going to miss my appointment."

"Link, apologizing won't help! You can't do this!" Malon guessed his plan.

Link wanted to die with the gang.

"You can't leave me behind!" Her eyes widened in disbelief, "You're the one who took me away, you should send me back!" She struggled desperately to get to hold Link back.

Malon thought of every word she could think of, aggravating, threatening, cajoling, she wanted Link to change his mind.

Link reached up and held Malon's cheek, one hand on the back of her neck.

"Shhh ......" he said softly, slowly wiping the tears from her face, "I didn't leave you behind. Malon, I should never have appeared before you. It was my selfishness that exposed you to them, and now, I need to go and make it right. Malon ...... you are my only link to the world now. Please live ...... Please live as you used to ...... live and be happy ...... Please forget about me, the one who shouldn't be here."

Malon cried silently, "Link, you can't do this. I love you, Link, you can't leave me like this. You showed up, made me fall in love with you, and then had to part with me ...... How am I going to treat my love as if she never showed up, I can't do it."

Link ruffled Malon's crushed hair and dropped a kiss on her forehead, "Malon, you'll forget me. It's the power of time."

With a click, Link left, and Malon shed silent tears.

She remembered the moments she had spent with Link, the moments when he had taught her knowledge carefully, the way he had averted his eyes when he had agreed to a pact, those horrible scars on his body ......

Everything had been foretold long ago.

Malon suddenly remembered that sunny summer day on her father's farm when she was a carefree little girl.

The tree had grown for many years, and its wide canopy was enough to shelter the children from the sun and rain.

Malon was walking out of the woods with a basket full of wild mushrooms when she saw a group of town children discussing something around the tree.

She approached and realized it was a boy who had been hung up.

His lips were white and full of cracks, and he looked dying.

"Hey!" Malon said, "What are you guys doing? He's dying!"

The fat boy in the lead walked over to Malon, "Malon." He glanced at the boy in the tree, "I'll let him go if you promise to go out with me tomorrow. It's just a beggar from nowhere anyway."

Malon took the knife out of the basket and pressed it against the fat boy's neck, "Fine, I'll make a hole in your neck right now and see if it's fat or blood that comes out."

The fat boy's face changed, "Whatever you want! That thin hemp straw child you are happy to save on save it!"

The boys dispersed in a huff.

Malon cut the twine and the boy fell to the grass.

She took the boy's head and fed him water from the canteen.

Seeing the boy's eyes open, Malon flashed him a bright smile.

"Hello, my name is Malon."

The bright blue eyes from that long ago memory gradually overlapped with Link's.

A bolt of lightning that seemed to slice through the sky flashed by, followed by a startling clap of thunder and an ensuing downpour of rain.

Link ducked behind cover, his right eye bloodied.

He checked the number of bullets in his hand and rushed out with the cover of the thunder.

One, two, three ...... He silently counted the number.

--until the last one.

Boss covered the gunshot wound in his abdomen and looked at Link hideously, "Naive, you've always been so naive! I won't survive, you think you will? Who do you think leaked the whereabouts of you and that woman?"

Link took a deep breath and suppressed the muscles that kept throbbing, "...... It doesn't matter, after today, they'll know that I'm dead, and it'll all be over."

The Boss pressed the remote control for the bomb and laughed over the blasting sound, "Death to all!!!"

When Malon arrived in front of the villa, all that was left of the villa was ruins, the broken house was covered with human limbs, bloody and disgusting.

Heavy rain continued to fall, drenching Malon's red hair and diluting the blood on the ground.

Malon rummaged through it brick by brick, she couldn't believe that Link would really be indifferent, she wanted to ask him face to face.

Even if Link was really dead, she had to find his body.

"Link ...... Link ...... I remember, we met ...... when I was a child... ... "Malon murmured as she searched until all ten of her fingers were worn down, until the blood was pouring out.

One of the broken bricks moved, and Link pushed aside the crushed bricks that held him down and held out a hand.

Malon hastily dug him out of the rubble, large teardrops sliding down mixed with rain.

"...... Can I apply to return to port?"

Malon hugged Link and finally let out a sob.

Months later.

"Mrs. Smith, your husband's eyes have fully recovered, and the rest of the day is just a matter of keeping an eye out for any adverse reactions. Oh and by the way, your ring is so beautiful, it's new, isn't it?" The big-bellied doctor wrote something in his chart as Link pulled back the curtain and sat up from the viewing table.

Malon smiled at the doctor, the wedding ring on her hand sparkling, "Yes, thank you, Dr. Rhodes."

Malon walks out of the hospital on Link's arm, a newspaper on one side of the room is still carrying the Limon Harbor bombing from a few months ago, and next to it is a bounty hanging over a picture of Link in his early years.

An old woman looked at the paper through her presbyopic glasses and mumbled, "Why hasn't the killer been caught yet?"

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Darkling [Rain x Phantom x Darkling (Oc)]

Summary: She was a newly summoned ghoul and she was struggling. As someone who came from the very pits of hell, nightmares and self-doubt was nothing but expected but she wasn't sure how she was going to be able to cope; until two of her new ghoul pack mates remind her how special she is.

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort dedicated to one of my special followers! I hope this makes you feel a little better and something you can return to reading anytime you need some extra comfort! @darklylucid

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Contrary to belief, Hell wasn't the lake of fire, filled with flames and with the hot stench of death. It was cold, soul-chilling cold and it was terrifying. Terrifying because you could trust nobody, nothing in the pits of hell was your friend and you always had to watch your back. Another contradiction when it comes to hell is well...when you're in hell, you can't die. Condemned souls and demons alike were immortal because well, they were already dead. Condemned souls eventually become demons in a sense after being with the realm of Hell for such a long time. No one died there because they were already dead. But most wished they would die because demons and ferals were brutal creatures. They could tear you limb from limb and you would feel everything but you would not die; even when you feel as if you are and pass out. You'll wake up whole again with maybe a new scar or two. It was brutal.

And she hated it. She wasn't new to Hell, not old enough to progress into sanity where you lose all the memory and humanity you had left like most of the souls and demons of the Pit. So it was worse off for her, she was deemed weak because she still held onto the thread of her humanity unlike those who had theirs turned off after centuries of dealing with the brutality and horror of the Pit.

That is not to say that she remained with memories of her life while alive, time did pluck them away little by little, but she knew that she had been loved by many people. She imagined that she had friends and family that missed her dearly but besides that; who she was, what her name was, what she loved to do...all of that was just a blurry mess. Not that she had much time to wonder about those things when the screams of the damned and demons alike invaded her cranium with their ungodly screeches bringing with it the iron grip of fear and need to run; run and survive another godforsaken day in the pits that never ended.

There was no redemption in Hell, only pain and suffering. So as she took on another day running from the pack of ferals chasing her with insatiable hunger in their eyes while they tracked the scent of her blood from the open wounds they had inflicted on her; she realized she was running straight through a red haze; like that of a red sand storm and her world went white...and then black.

When she came to, her entire body was aflame and her head swam as it pounded so hard she swore her skull would crack open and spill her brains out on the ground. In the haze of her pain, she heard voices around her and her instincts came to life. She moved weakly trying to find the ground beneath her feet but her body was weak and she stumbled. A pair of arms wrapped around her and her body slumped against the body belonging to it as her vision spiraled with black dots in her visions.

No, not black dots...masks. Her vision cleared little by little and she found herself staring up into the gleaming goggles of some kind of black mask belonging to a man who held her up on jelly legs. Words were being said; she couldn't make it out but she saw the fabric covering the person's mouth move so they must be saying something to her right? Were they not going to kill her or tear her apart? Why were they speaking to her?

"Rain bring her back to the dorms." a man's voice with an accent spoke up from somewhere in the room. "Let's get her cleaned up and settled in!"

She wouldn't have been able to call herself a survivor if she didn't at least try to struggle a bit when she listened to the words registering but the arms around her were firm and yet gentle as they held onto her squirming body; keeping her from herself herself.

"Hey, shh. It's okay, you're alright. You're safe honey!" the masked man - Rain, hushed her gently as he bent slightly to pick her up bridal style.

A blanket was draped around her by another figure before Rain carried her from the cold dark room and the bright lights of the hallway assaulted her sensitive vision. She whimpered and ducked her head feeling the pain behind her eyes from the light.

"Oh, I know sweetheart. It's okay, we'll get you taken care of!" another voice spoke up from beside her as a hand came into view to pull the blanket over her head a bit so that the light wouldn't bother her.

The sound of murmurs behind her faded as she began to get sleepy and she rested her head down against Rain's shoulder from the exhaustion of her summoning and the confusion of her appearance. She was almost fully asleep when the softness of a bed she laid on registered in her foggy brain and as the figures began to move away from the bed she felt the sudden urge to reach out and grab at them.

"N-no!" her words came out scratchy and filled with panic. "I don't...I won't want to be alone."

Rain hesitated before turning to look at his fellow packmates and then he unbuckled his helmet and set it down on the floor before he was crawling into bed beside her. The warmth of another living creature was a comfort she wasn't aware she had been craving until the solid weight of him rested on the bed beside her.

"Oh love no no need for the tears!" the same voice from earlier rushed out to say as a second figure knelt on the floor beside her. "Trust me, I know how it felt when I was first summoned. It's tough, but your safe. You'll be alright." a hand smoothed over her messy hair and she latched onto their wrist like a lifeline allowing the hot tears to fall as the feeling of overwhelming emotions rocked her life like a boat in an ocean.

The figure gently stroked her dirty face and wiped her tears away as Rain rested on the bed beside her letting out chittering sounds in hopes to soothe her. It was working, because before long...she fell asleep in the warmth of other living creatures; creatures that didn't want to kill her, and that was enough to let her exhaustion take hold and allow her to let go of her consciousness in favor of some proper sleep.

~

Hands were gripping her and voices were murmured somewhere in the darkness but when she opened her eyes she was met with two worried faces peering down at her. Her heart pounded heavy and painfully in her chest; her face must have reflected the terror she was relived when the figures crowded her in their warm embraces.

Rain and Phantom. They were safe. They were not trying to hurt her. She was at the Abbey back home in her bed. She was okay. But the terrors of her life in the pits haunted her every night for the past month that she resided topside and she was so sick of it. So tired of all the horrors that just never wanted to let go of her. She'd cried so many tears of pain and fear that she was surprised she hadn't cried herself a river to carry her away; not that they'd let her go anyway.

Ever since the day Papa had summoned her a month ago Rain and Phantom had been her rock to reality; the strength she clung to whenever she felt overwhelmed and overstimulated by the schedule that was placed in her lap. Swiss, Mountain, and Sodo- the other three within the group she's met a few days after her summoning had been worried about her and shared their kindness with her as they too tried to help her acclimate to the surface; remembering how awful it was in Hell. But it was Phantom and Rain who had been the ones who were often at her side.

Her terrors had gotten so bad that it was not a surprise that she ended up crawling into bed with one or both of them on the regular. Just like tonight, despite the safety she knew she had her terrors would not let her go and she clung to the only line she had - them.

"Hey, honey. It's okay, your okay!" Rain soothed like he did every time when she's wail and struggle as if fighting off demons only her mind could conjure up from her experiences in hell.

"That's that. You're not there anymore... you're here with us, you're safe." Phantom echoed as he stroked her hair as she clung to Rain's arm as he cradled her to his chest.

The room was dark - probably still night or early morning and she hated the fact she'd woken them up yet again knowing how tired they'd been between practice and caring for her unstable self.

"I'm sorry." she cried "I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up! I'm sorry I cause you guys to lose sleep! I'm sorry I'm so weak, I'm sorry-"

"Hey, none of that cupcake!" Phantom chided firmly as he cupped her face and wiped her tears away. "Rain and I don't give a fuck if we lose sleep. We just want to make sure you're okay! We'd never sleep again if it meant we could help you through this. You hear me cupcake?" Phantom's dark eyes searched hers and after a moment she nodded with hesitation.

"Never apologize for needing someone, sweetheart. You're our packmate now, you're our family. We'd do anything for you. You know that." Rain kissed her hair a few times and rocked her until her shaking ceased and her cries turned into sniffles.

"But I am weak, Rain. I can't let it go...I just-" she shuddered closing her eyes

"You're not alone." Rain murmured giving her a gentle squeeze. "You'll never be alone again. We'll get through this like we did all the other times. Trust me, we went through similar experiences when each of the others got summoned too. You think Phantom wasn't a handful when he was summoned?" he tried to lighten the mood and he was rewarded by a wet laugh as she desperately tried to wipe at the tears that didn't want to stop.

"Hey," Phantom shifted closer and studied her face. "Look at me, eyes on me. Hey, it's okay. You're safe. You're here with me and Rain in this moment, your safe okay?" when she nodded she was rewarded with a smile.

"I know I just...remembering that time..." her breath hitched and she clutched onto Rain's arm tighter as flashes of her nightmares resurfaced with her doubt.

"I know, but let's try getting you calmer okay? Let's try to get your breathing right. Will you breath with us?" he coaxed trying to distract her.

She nodded hesitantly.

"We know you can." Rain smiled nuzzling her head. "Breath in....and breath out." the feeling of his chest expanding as he took a breath coaxed her to match it as she inhaled shakily; never once letting go of Rain or ever taking her eyes from Phantom.

"Good, one more time. Breathe in...breathe out." Phantom echoed as he followed Rain's lead and matched his breathing to his packmates..

He smiled when she began to slowly calm down. "Good job baby. I need you to repeat after me okay?" she nodded again.

"I am safe. I am loved."

Her brows scrunched up a bit but her voice - hesitant and a bit shy repeated them but without much conviction.

"I am safe, I am loved."

Rain smiled slightly and shook his head as he took her hands and gave them a squeeze. "Gotta say it with more meaning honey. Got to say it like you mean it."

Phantom nodded along and repeated himself but put more infliction on it. "I. Am. Safe." he waited until she echoed his words; feeling a sense of pride when her voice came out less meek. "I. Am. Loved."

"I am loved." a small smile tugged at her lips despite how silly she now began to feel.

"Good job baby. I am so proud of you." Phantom matched her smile as he leaned over and planted little kisses all over her face until she was actually giggling and squirming in Rain's hold.

"We are so proud of you," Rain chipped in as he dug his fingers lightly into her sides until she was laughing and they laughed along. "So proud."

"You feel better now?"

The woman nodded wiping at her face and taking a deep breath. "Yeah.

"Good." Phantom crawled into bed and pulled her against his chest. Cradling her against him as he stroked her hair while Rain got settled against her back and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her close.

Legs entangled together and tails curled around each other as the three settled back into bed. It was a silly notion to think that Darkling should have anything to fear anymore. Despite what she had gone through in the Pits; she no longer lived there. Papa had summoned her and given her a new purpose. Better yet, the best gift of all was a pack she would lean on and call her family instead of being alone and scared like she was before. She had nothing to fear living topside anymore and she may not believe it all the time as she still got used to her new lif. She knew for certain that even if she lost faith in herself; her boys never would.

"Love you guys." she mumbled nuzzling against Phantom and giving Rain's hand a squeeze.

"We love you too honey."

"Always cupcake."

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 8]

Alternate Dimension AU

TW: Language, Mentions of Death, Descriptions of Violence, Scar Mention, Mentioned Body Horror

CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here]

Genre: Angst, Light Comedy

Pairing: Batfamily x Batsis!Reader

(8/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

Word Count: 3.8K

Notes: It's time for my bi-annual update of this bad boy LMAOOOOOOO see y'all in another half a year! (I'm kidding, I'll try to get more updates out before the year ends if my schedule permits lmaooo) Seriously, though, thanks to anyone who stuck it out even though I'm not a good updater! I really appreciate you all <3

Not Your Classic Vigilante: @gabytodd @peachydoki @marshmallow12435 @f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnack @akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz @lovely-maryj 

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

28 July 2022

As you’d probably expected, your slumber did not last long, as you was reminded of why you had a hard time sleeping in the first place. Of course it’d come back to you in such a vivid way, now that you’ve returned home and back to the crime scene. You wondered how different it looked now, or if any of your belongings remained there after so long.

Your nightmares were always the same, back in that horrific alleyway. Three years, and you still haven’t forgotten. Three years, and you can still feel everything. Three years, and you can still remember looking up to the sky and seeing that all too familiar smoggy sky. You can still remember, and recite from heart, the prayer you sent out to whatever god was out there to just end your suffering there. And, as your pursuer pulled on your hair, you would always wake up, your mind sparing you from reliving all of that trauma and, usually, you’d decide to work instead, but this time the circumstances were different.

‘Another nightmare?’

‘If nightmares are all I have then I’d rather not sleep at all.’

‘Tea, darling.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know, I just wish you were here, it’d be easier. Think you can walk me through that miracle recipe you usually make?’

‘Of course, why would I say no?’ Alex’s voice drained from your head and you made your way to the manor kitchen, ignoring the light in the library this time as you continued. ‘I’m sure you’ll have all the basics. Milk, honey, lemon, and whatever tea is available.’

You had always thought that the manor was too quiet at night like there were demons in the shadows and monsters in the closets. You remember that you used to wake up either Dick or Jason to come downstairs with you when you were younger. Dick, of course, always said yes no matter how tired he was, Jason would tease you about it and get upset but in the end, he’d follow, you always relied on them to scare the demons away, and, now that you thought of it, you weren’t sure what kind of demon would be afraid of a boy in bright spandex but that was beside the point.

Then you got older, you got older and suddenly you had your own younger siblings to watch over. You had to be the person to chase their demons away, but at that time, you had nothing aside from a flashlight. You remembered asking yourself if something were to happen, would you be defending your younger siblings or would they be defending you? You, a civilian, and them, the vigilantes. Hell, you were pretty sure your dad was friends with some demons. 

‘And now the demons hide from you.’

‘Very funny, Alex. Once we’re back together no more prying into my thoughts, alright?’

‘I wouldn’t pry if you were so loud.’

‘You’re insufferable.’

'I just want to brighten up your mood a little, darling. Unclench your jaw.’ You didn’t even realize that you were until he mentioned it. You scoured the fridge and pulled out the required ingredients. 

‘I’m not keeping you up, am I?’

‘Goodness, no, you could never. I’m just checking things on my end. We have what we need, when you’re ready, we can head home.’

‘I’m just worried that it was too easy. Nothing ever is with this family.’

‘Let’s just consider it a blessing, for now. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it otherwise.’

‘Right,’ you shook your head. ‘Have you located Cass yet?’

‘Cassandra is as elusive as ever. Carter and I have been keeping an eye out for her, though.’

‘Good, I think she’s the only one we really have to look out for,’ you looked over your shoulder. Your sister had a knack for stealth, one that you had been aware of since now. But, it wasn’t her famed stealth that concerned you, no, of everyone in this damned family, it will be her to find out that you’re lying. You were lucky enough to have landed here when she wasn’t at the house, otherwise, you’d be screwed.

‘We’re waiting outside for you. Whenever you’re ready.’

‘You’re outside? Be careful, I forgot to tell you both earlier about the traps.’

‘Oh, trust us, we know.’

~

Two Hours Earlier.

“Don’t move, don’t move,” Alex hisses to Carter, who was probably in the most uncomfortable position he’d ever been in.

“I’m not moving, dammit,” Carter takes slow breaths. “Thank god his highness made us play Twister with him so often.” He holds his position steady between the number of lasers that had suddenly sparked to life. “What’s our situation, Lex?”

“Best case scenario they’d slice one of our limbs off if we’re clumsy.”

“That’s the best case?”

“The worst case scenario is that they trip the alarm system and suddenly we’d have this Universe’s strongest family on our tails.

“Great,” Carter groans. “You know a lot about the Captain’s family don’t you?”

“I do,” Alex tries to turn slowly to a more favorable position. “You know, you could just call her (Y/N).”

“She outranks me though.”

“We worked together, she just happened to figure out the system faster than we did,” Alex sighs. “I also know you two have a certain... relation, if I may presume.” Carter nearly loses his balance, saving his position by grabbing onto a nearby flower pot.

“Fuck, wait, are you serious?!” Carter whips his head towards him with wide eyes. Alex only nods calmly, keeping his movements short as a red laser was right in front of his eyes. 

“I wasn’t 100% sure, but considering your reaction, I can say that I am more confident,” he says. “You make a sweet duo.”

“Ugh… we were so careful,” Carter sighs.

"Not careful enough, hard to hide things from someone who's known her since we were seven," Alex scoffs. “Anyway, I do like you, Carter, you're one of the few people in the Brigade I'd consider a friend, so, with your best interests in mind, be sure to be on the watch for his highness. He might order for your head if he finds out,” Alex says with a teasing tone to his voice.

“Alex, please tell me that you’re not planning on using this against me, are you?”

“That depends on your future actions,” Alex grins.

“I’m so fucked.”

~

‘Oh, and do be sure to shut down the lasers, please, I think Carter’s getting a muscle cramp.’ You could easily picture his smirk.

Alex’s side went silent and you reveled in the quiet. You never liked this telepathy thing, it was always so violating in your mind, and truthfully in his too. You both tried to avoid it until absolutely necessary, such as now. It was a by-product of your own curious case of two souls interlinked to allow for eternal life, or, at least, until Alex dies. You paused, half waiting for him to say something, mainly to correct you, but no such thing came.

Courtesy of the ruthless queen, she always held it above your head, how indebted you were to her. If there was truly one person you hated, it was her. Even your father’s stance, as absolute as it was before, paled in comparison to the queen and the leash she had around your neck. You were certain that she was somehow keeping tabs on you even here, after all, to move without knowledge of her majesty is akin to treason.

You really should be more careful. As they say, it comes in threes. You’ve died once here, you’ve died once in the other world, and the next one is bound to be your last chance. You shook your head.

“I hope Alfred didn’t move anything since I was last here,” you mumbled to yourself. It would do you well not to think about it right now, you should be more focused on the mission. Like you said earlier, it was too easy.

“He didn’t,” Tim confirms. You glanced over your shoulder and Tim smiles softly. “That used to scare the heck out of you.” Tim and Cass were, in some ways, too similar, as much as they’d argue against it. The only difference between them was that one didn’t hesitate. Ever.

“Not anymore, I guess,” you respond. You pull out a tea packet and fill the water heater to its maximum. 

“Hope you don’t mind if I join you.” He walks into the kitchen and pulls out a mug.

“Of course, I wouldn’t, let’s have a conversation, Timmy,” you nodded toward him, waiting for the water to heat. “Why are you still up?”

“Bruce asked me to go through some files, just some review stuff,” he answers. “Have you spoken to him?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m not sure if anyone told him.”

“I could tell,” you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. The water heater finished and you swiftly poured it into your and Tim’s mugs.

“Whatcha drinking?” He asks, nudging your shoulder. It was something he always used to do when you were younger. He was testing you. You nudged him back.

“Just something I saw on Pinterest.”

‘It’s like I don’t exist to you,’ Alex chides. You pay him no mind.

“Smells good,” he says. You both take a seat at the counter, silently blowing the steam away from the tops while seemingly trying to find out what to say to the other. Strange, you’d never thought that you’d feel awkward around Tim of all your siblings, yet here you were, with your words caught in your throat.

“How are you, Tim?” You finally ask. Tim taps his mug a couple of times, looking off into nothing while he thought of his response.

“I’ve been better, (Y/N), and you?” He tosses the question back.

“I’ve been better,” you repeated. “Crazy… everything that I found out today, and no doubt more, huh?” You ask. Tim could only nod.

“A lot has changed, (Y/N), I don’t even know where to start,” he shakes his head. “It’s okay though, right? We’ll have a lot of time to spend together,” Tim says with a small smile. Your chest clenched. Ah, Tim, what a horrible habit of his. You were worried that he already had you figured out. Had you slipped up somewhere? A mannerism you hadn’t done before?

‘Stop clutching your heart,’ Alex’s voice rang. Your hand dropped to your lap.

“I see there’s a new Robin,” you answered before Tim could get suspicious.

“Oh, no, Duke’s Robin trial’s over. He’s Signal now,” Tim explains.

“Another kid who fell victim to dad’s charms, huh?” You drank some of your tea, feeling your thoughts relax afterward.

“Something like that,” Tim mutters. “But, (Y/N)… there’s something different about you.” This conversation again. You had to stay on your guard, everything you say and everything you do can and will be used against you. Leave it to Timmy, always the skeptic.

“I mean… you know what happened,” you sighed. “Where’s Cassie?” You divert the conversation.

“Last I heard she’s helping out at Steel City,” Tim hums. “I should call her over,” he reaches for his phone, but you shake your head. Anyone but Cass.

“It’s fine, sounds like she’s busy, like you said, we have a lot of time to figure things out. I’m just proud,” you grinned. “I’m proud of all of you, looks like you’ve all been doing your best since I’ve been gone and… that makes me really glad,” you nudged his leg with your foot and he looks up from his coffee to you, a sudden grief in his eyes. You were telling the truth. You were worried about Tim more so than your other brothers actually, of them all, he was the most prone to overthinking. 

“What do you think?” Tim suddenly asks. You freeze.

‘He asked if you feel any different,’ Alex fills in for you.

“I’m not sure, Tim,” you sighed. “I feel like myself but, at the same time, not at all. I saw the news reports already, so… do you think…?” You looked down at your hands. Now, to be perfectly honest, you’ve thought about this before, plenty of times actually. This body you’re in, is it actually yours?

“I mean… if I may,” Tim moves his chair so he can be a little closer to you and reaches for your hand. Instinctively, you pull away and Tim’s breath hitches.

“Sorry… muscle memory maybe,” you tried to cover for your actions, placing your hand on his instead. Tim holds it gently, observing your wrist in particular, but ghosting his hands around yours entirely. You gave him your non-dominant hand for a reason. You couldn’t come up with an excuse to explain the calluses on your sword hand. “You have scar marks all around your wrist here,” he says, tracing the faint outline of the jagged cut made into it. As he did so, it was like you could feel the sharp pain from before. “Your hand was the first one they found, you know,” he suddenly says, a sharp tone switch. Again, you pulled your hand away, rubbing your wrist softly now.

“So I’ve heard,” you muttered.

“They never found your torso.”

“And yet, here it is,” you said next. He’s testing your answers now. It’s too late to act afraid. “That’s why, I had a nightmare last night, a body without a torso was running towards me,” you lied. Tim frowned, taking a sip of his drink before continuing.

“I wonder… is your situation similar to Jason’s? Or is it completely different?” He says aloud.

“Well… I don’t think I turned into an asshole, so I’m pretty sure I’m different,” you laughed. Tim broke a small chuckle.

“That’s true, that’s true,” he nods. “How do you feel about this, (Y/N)? About coming back to life and all?” Tim seems to have relaxed.

“I mean… it’s strange. You know my thoughts on death,” you mumbled. “I’m a bit glad, though. Maybe this was a gift, you know? I still have to pick up my degree from the university, I wonder if they kept it,” you rest your head against your palm now.

“Your degree?” Tim asks.

“Yeah? You know I went to college, right?” You looked at him with disbelief.

“Well, yeah, of course, I know that!” Tim defends tiredly. “It’s just… did you not see it earlier? Bruce hung it over the mantle,” Tim points to the general area of the living room and your eyes widened slightly. You didn’t even notice that.

“Oh… I guess it slipped my mind, I was too busy looking at your Boy Wonder pictures,” you chided.

“Whatever, I keep telling Alfred to move those, it’s so embarrassing,” Tim grows slightly red before his smile falls again as if remembering something else. What was he thinking right now? What was going on inside that head of his?

“Tim, are you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” he nods his head unsurely. He looks back down at his coffee. “No… No, I’m not,” he corrects himself. You hesitated before putting your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, do you want to talk about it? Is it my fault?” You asked. Maybe your sudden reappearance shocked him, or maybe you were wrong, maybe he hadn’t been holding up well.

“I just… (Y/N), I want to trust you, really I do,” he says, meeting your eyes once again. “But there’s something different about you, something I can’t really point out,” he shakes his head. He looks away again for a brief moment, as if in thought, then he looks at you, his eyes filled with the determination to solve the case that was you. “Who are you?”

“Timmy,” whatever warning tone was in your voice wasn’t intentional. Your hand moved up to his face, holding it as gently as possible. “I knew you’d be the first to find out.” You whispered. “And I’m so sorry, I love you, you’re my little brother but… I have to do this, please understand. It’s nothing personal…” In an instant, you slammed his head against the table, leaving him knocked out.

‘Well, that can only work once,’ Alex chides.

“I know,” you chugged down the rest of your drink. “Let’s get out of here.” You rushed out to the gardens. Dammit, you knew it, why did you entertain him? Five minutes, no, less. You had to get out of here as soon as possible. You spot your two teammates, both in compromising positions that they should care less about right now. “Don’t even worry about the security system! Let’s just go!” You shout, already configuring the device around your wrist. You heard doors slamming behind you, shouts or rushed speech, you didn’t have time to differentiate. The alarm system blared, no doubt a wake-up call, and the sudden lights that shot into the night sky, without a doubt, was to call the patrolling vigilantes back home.

“Ready when you are, captain!” Alex shouts. You couldn’t ignore the stares you felt. Which sibling was it?

“Count of three!” You shout. It can’t be Dick or Jason, they would’ve said something by now.

“Three!” Alex shouts. Tim was still knocked out, knowing him, he’d be hanging behind on the cams but a quick glance earlier showed that the garden cameras were fried beyond repair.

“Two!” Carter was next. Damian? No, can’t be, he would’ve reacted similarly to your older brothers, surely.

“One!” The three of you slammed your hands on the devices, a vortex quickly pulling you into your home universe.

The three of you tumbled onto the concrete floors of the Keep, your back slamming harshly against the table that, of course, Nixon finally bolted to the ground. Carter hit the wall, sending displayed weapons crashing down. And, as expected, Alex landed as gracefully as ever, standing up nearly immediately to brush the dirt off his uniform.

And, just like that, all your exhaustion caught up to you. The constant acting, the running around Gotham, running around the manor, and even the stress of your family. All in the span of two days, you deserved a vacation after even just looking at your father, that man just knew how to drain the life out of you. If you could, you’d rather sleep right where you were. Your lumbar vertebra only slightly fractured from the sheer force of hitting the table, but, give it a couple of minutes and it’ll be fine again.

As much as you hated to admit it, it made you feel better now that you were in a more familiar place. One that you felt comfortable in, at the very least. Sure, you spent the majority of your waking hours working in this place, but it was better than the stares you got over the two days you were at the manor. For once, these ugly concrete floors felt welcoming.

“Well, that went swimmingly, didn’t it?” Alex grins. You and Carter could only groan in response. You held up the flash drive regardless and Alex takes it from your hand. Then, as soon as the tingling feeling in your legs subsided, you took deep breaths.

“It almost went too well,” you shook your head against the cold floors. You pushed yourself up using the edge of the table. “Ugh… I’m beat, I’m going home,” you waved your hand absently.

“Oh, don’t forget to take lover boy with you,” Alex points to Carter.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, Carter, I’ll give you a ride,” you beckoned him with your hand.

“Oh, nah, it’s fine,” Carter shakes his hand.

“Okay, better for me, just walk,” you grabbed your keys from the counter, taking a glance at the clock next to you. “Oh shit,” you grabbed the digital device.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asks.

“It’s been two weeks here!” You shout. “Fuck! There’s going to be so much paperwork!” You ruffled your hair harshly.

“Ah, and so the captain faces her hardest battle yet,” Alex laughs, grabbing the door for you, “deadlines.”

“I can and will kill you, Alex.”

~

Cassandra stood at the top of Wayne Manor. Her knuckles had turned white from how hard she was gripping the chimney top. Maybe she shouldn’t have been lurking, but when Jason suddenly texted the group chat she knew she had to come immediately. But, when she saw you sitting in the living room, just waiting for your brothers to return, all the warning signals flew up in her mind.

Threat, thief, murderer, soldier, suspicious, trained, dangerous, and god knows how more. Cassandra couldn’t believe it, no, she didn’t want to believe it. You were just sitting there, how could you set off all those alarms in her head? Wait, how could you do that? You weren’t supposed to show those to her. You were supposed to be happy, relaxed, calm, excited, or maybe even worried or concerned. But, there was one signal that kept popping up over and over again in Cass’ head.

Liar.

You acted just like (Y/N), you looked just like her, you sounded just like her, but every subliminal thing about you was not (Y/N) Wayne. But, underlying all of those, was fear. Were you maybe keeping things to yourself? Was it to protect the family? Why? 

Why did you steal those files from the bat computer? Cassandra saw all of it, staying hidden in the shadows just as she was taught, she watched you upload details on who knows how many heroes into a simple flash drive, and how that was possible, Cass didn’t know. The security system should’ve fried that drive and alerted Tim or Barbara as soon as you pushed it into its port but it didn’t.

Yet, you knew the password. She saw you. You typed in the correct password, but you hesitated. Why did you hesitate? Why would you? It’s not like Bruce had ever changed it from your birthday. For a computer harboring so many secrets, the password to access it was just so simple. Your initials, underscore, then your birthday. Two capitals and no spaces. Not just anyone knew that password, Cass had only found out off-hand when, surprise, she watched Bruce put it in. Perhaps it was what she read off of you when you typed in your password. Anxious, and maybe even melancholic. Why would an imposter feel sad about a password? There would be no reason.

It was that reasoning that convinced Cass that you were, truly, you. Just with different life experiences, maybe. More experiences than death certainly. She only overheard it, your story about the lab. But when you said that, all your body language indicated were lies. How different could it have been, though? What happened to suddenly change your mannerisms fundamentally?

Did it, maybe, have something to do with your heart? Why did you continue to clutch it so throughout the short time you were in the manor?

Cass had too many questions, all of which she’d know would go unanswered. Now, just as she watched you disappear with two unknown figures, she could only feel her knees buckle while she sat against the roof tiles.

She didn’t even get to say ‘hello.’

[paarthursass]

well i GOTTA ask ""you haven't changed." "...do you mean that in a good way or bad way?""

exes to lovers dialogue

"You haven't changed."

Aurel did not meet Wyll's gaze. They sat within a breadth of each other; Wyll's hands were warm as he bandaged the burns on Aurel’s chest. 

He had borne burn scars on his back, once.  It seemed only fitting that now he would bear the reverse; a symbolic branding of the change he had undergone.

'I could only obtain one Scroll of True Polymorph. Karlach required it more urgently than I.'

"That's not what I meant," Wyll hissed.

Aurel almost missed the intimacy of when they had both carried tadpoles in their minds; the effortless psychic link that had cropped up between them, even back when Aurel was so desperately trying to hide himself from Wyll.  He could have re-established the connection now; his own psychic powers were strong enough, and he did so dearly wish he could just know what Wyll was thinking instead of trying to interpret the cadence of his voice and the way he breathed. 

But it would be an invasion of privacy, and it would mean facing the full force of Wyll's grief. 

Aurel grieved himself enough.

'Then say what you mean.'

"You broke into Mephistopheles' library, Aurel!"

'Yes,' Aurel replied plainly, still not facing Wyll. 'We have spent months chasing inconclusive leads among Zariel's forces. Conversely, we knew with certainty that Mephistopheles' realm held tomes and scrolls of every arcane spell in existence.  And with Hope’s House holding a portal to Cania, it was more efficient to steal a scroll from him than to chase flimsy rumors to every end of Avernus.'

"Don't do that," the small part of Aurel's heart that was still a man twinged at how Wyll’s voice broke. "Don't try and speak to me like you're just a mind flayer."

'I am just a mind flayer.'

Aurel felt bile rise in his throat.  He snapped his head to the side to turn his cold, violet gaze onto Wyll.  HIs old lover paused in his work, his dark devil-eye staring back unflinchingly.

There was a time he could have read Wyll’s face with ease.  He would have known what the clench of his jaw meant, or if the way his fingers trembled were from anger or grief.

Or perhaps he had been fooling himself, lost in the throws of new love, and he didn’t know Wyll at all.

'You and Karlach have been putting on a pantomime. Whether for my sake or to ease your own grief, I do not know, but what I do know is that Mizora was right; Aurel died that day in the Astral Prism. His soul has left for the Fugue Plane, and I am only an echo of his memories. I am an abomination to illithid-kind, and a cruel reminder to you.'

Wyll’s jaw flexed, his lips pursed into a thin trembling line — grief then.  Of course.  The man he loved was dead. 

Once, Aurel would have pulled him close to chase those tears away. He would have cupped his face in his hands, kissed his cheeks, held him as he wept...

His mouth was no longer made for tenderness, but for cracking through skulls and gorging on the grey matter within. His hands were warped into cold, slimy claws that inspired more disgust than warmth. His closeness would only bring Wyll more discomfort.

That seemed to be all he brought Wyll nowadays.

'Well, you need no longer continue this farce,' Aurel went on. 'With the Scroll of True Polymorph, Karlach can inhabit a new body free of the Infernal Engine. The two of you may return to the Material Plane.'

"You're not coming with us?" Wyll's voice broke, his remaining eye large and wet and grief-stricken.

'I will not force you to endure my presence any longer,' Aurel turned away. And he cursed his ceremorphosis — not for transforming him into a monster, but for making him this incomplete thing that still wavered when faced with Wyll’s forlorn gaze.

'There is ample food for me here, and I will take pleasure in knowing I am thinning Zariel's forces as I feed.'

"Alone?"

He hated how quiet Wyll's voice was. Why didn't he hate him? Why were they both clinging to a ship they both knew was sinking?

'I cannot be what you want,' Aurel said stiffly. 'I have told you; I am an echo of who Aurel was. I am a living reminder of your dead love. You need not suffer me any longer.'

"I don't suffer you."

'I see how you look at me, Wyll!' Aurel snapped his head around to look at Wyll once more, tentacles flaring. 'You do not see me; you see a dead man you once loved. You saw how Mayrina dragged along the rotting corpse of her husband; I will not be your Connor!'

Wyll flinched, as did Aurel — surprised by the force of his own psychic lashing. Every time he spoke he tried to keep a tether on his telepathy, tried to keep himself from probing too far and sharing too much but in that moment...

"That's really what you think you are," Wyll breathed, his eyes wide. "A shambling zombie trailing after me?"

Aurel's tentacles twitched, and he turned so he could no longer look at Wyll's large, sad eyes.

'Mizora was right,' he said again. He could almost hear her shrill laughter, echoing on the winds of Avernus. 'I am a worm wriggling around in a dead man's brain. I recall his life, his feelings, as if they were my own...and when left to my own devices, I still trick myself into thinking I am him.'

Aurel was quiet for a moment. The balcony doors were open, the rust-red sky of Avernus plain to see. The faint smell of sulfur wafted in, but in Raphael's old boudoir the smell of incense still overpowered Avernus's acrid stench.

They had killed Haarlep here. The incubus had leered at him, tongue tracing their fangs as they looked to make Aurel their next meal, and Wyll had held on to his hand so tightly, as if he was afraid one lecherous look from the incubus would pull him away from his side.

Haarlep hadn't taken him, but only a few days later...the Netherbrain, the Emperor, Orpheus...

'I thought about it.'

Aurel glanced back at Wyll, cheeks wet from silent tears but eyes soft with confusion. "Thought about what?"

'When Orpheus said what needed to be done,' Aurel turned to look back at Avernus. He couldn't look at Wyll, not when admitting this. 'I thought of asking him to do it instead.'

Wyll went quiet. Aurel did not know whether it was grief, or disappointment, or shame that caused his silence, but he persisted all the same.

'The rightful Prince of the Githyanki; their best hope of liberation and ending Vlaakith's tyranny. I thought of asking him to become illithid instead. Worse, I thought it would have been better to let the Emperor feed on him, to let them kill him and take his power, because that would have meant it wouldn't have to be me.'

The carefully maintained dam of his telepathy cracked again. Just a little as his grief, as his anger bubbled over. But it seemed to be enough; Wyll's lips parted, his eyes widened as the torrent of Aurel's emotions seeped through.

'I thought to damn the Githyanki people — Lae'zel's people. I was weak, and I was terrified, and all I could think about was how I wanted to go to that dinner with Karlach and Fytz. I wanted to see Gale’s tower in Waterdeep.  Hells, I even wanted to help Astarion find a new home for him and the other spawn.'

Aurel's entire body had gone rigid. He shook, his claws digging into the sheets of the bed while his tentacles trembled as he stared intently at the wall.

'I wanted my father to recognize me when I went home,' he could not sob, not anymore, but the flood of thoughts and feelings felt nearer to hysteria than he'd been in a long, long time. 'I wanted us to have more than just that one night under the Wilden Oak. I wanted to go to sleep at night by your side and then kiss you awake each morning. And I wondered to myself, 'Could I?' Could I sacrifice the freedom of an entire people just so I could wake up each morning with you in my arms?'

His whole body trembled as those emotions ceremorphosis should have snuffed out spilled over into the air. A small, broken gasp escaped Wyll as he felt it, as all the rage and grief and shame that Aurel had been so desperately trying to hide all these months spilled over into the light.

'I was almost so weak. Weak and stupid and selfish. And I have spent these past months trying to convince myself that it was worth it. That becoming this was worth sacrificing our future.'

He didn't think he was capable of this anymore. This rage, this overwhelming grief, this pain. 

The baubles on the nightstand were rattling, even the bed seemed to be shaking as his telekinesis bubbled within him. 

He hadn't felt this raw and uncontrolled since he was an adolescent.

He forced himself out of the bed and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blot out the everything as if that would stop this.  Stop him.  

He couldn’t. 

It wasn’t just him shaking now; he could hear the bed rattling against the wall, the water in the bath splashing.  Something fell onto the floor and shattered.  He couldn’t stop.  He couldn’t.

And then there was a clawed hand on his arm.  Tentative; just a brush against his cold skin, but enough to share its warmth.

Aurel shuddered, and with that his telekinesis calmed.  The rattling stopped, the House of Hope stood still once more, and Aurel stood there with Wyll hovering inches away.

Aurel stepped away from him.  Out, further, onto the balcony.  He turned to stare blankly out at the barren landscape of Avernus, at the red mountains on the horizon and the smoke rising in the distance.

I will never see the mountains of my home again.

I will never see my father again.

'It is bad enough that I must spend the rest of my days feeling sorry for myself, but I cannot, will not bring you down with me, Wyll. I will not have you standing by my side out of duty and staring at me while you mourn the man you love. That is no life, not for either of us. So leave; go with Karlach back to Baldur's Gate, grieve me, move on, and let me die here knowing I took as many of Zariel's soldiers with me as I could.'

A shuddering exhale escaped Wyll. He was right there, right behind Aurel. He could feel his breath on his neck, could feel the prickling of his warmth on his back.

"Is that what you want?" Wyll asked, his voice ragged and raw.

Aurel closed his eyes.

'What I want does not matter.'

"It does."

'I cannot have it,' Aurel snapped. 'Don't you see, Wyll? I want you to look at me without shame. I want to be able to walk with you in the sunlight. I want to see my father again, with you by my side. I want...I want to be me again.'

A shaky, rattling exhale escaped through Aurel's teeth as he looked up.

'But I am not. Even polymorphing back into my original body could not change that. I am...I am not him. But I don't know who I am when I'm not him. And I do not think I can ever know.'

This was why mind flayers forgot who they were. This was why partialism was such a taboo to them. No mind flayer would be able to survive this agony.

Aurel almost felt sorry for the Emperor. Deluding himself into believing he was still Balduran, that he was better as a mind flayer, had to be the only way he could survive such a thing.

Ansur really would have done him a mercy if he'd killed him.

A pair of warm arms wrapped around Aurel's middle. He tensed, his breath hitched as Wyll rested his forehead against Aurel's back and squeezed with his arms.

"Why did you go to Mephistopheles' library alone," Wyll murmured.

Aurel trembled.

'Because it was dangerous,' he said. 'Because if I failed, then you and Karlach would still be safe.'

Wyll's breath hitched as he squeezed Aurel.

"That's what I meant," he sighed. "Oh Aurel, I’m not leaving you here.”

‘You must.’

“No.”

Aurel tried to pull away, but Wyll only loosened his grip enough to spin Aurel around - to force them eye to eye while Wyll grabbed his shoulders.  His claws dug into Aurel’s skin, and his eye blazed.

“You haven’t changed,” he insisted. “You’re still the same as you were before.  I should have known from the moment you agreed to jump with Karlach into Avernus without a thought; you’re still the same man who bargained with Mizora for my soul, who risked a sinking prison for my father…who became a mind flayer to save the world.”

Wyll was crying again.  The tears were running freely down his cheeks, spilling onto his tunic.  Aurel stared at the dark spots dumbly as his head spun.

“And then you went and stole from Mephistopheles, and you could have just helped yourself but you didn’t.  You thought…you thought I didn’t love you as you were and you still thought to save Karlach first.”

Wyll’s claws dug in further as he stared up at Aurel, and he gave his shoulders a firm shake.

“I’m not leaving you to sacrifice yourself to Zariel’s forces,” he said. “You’re the same.  You’re the same.”

Aurel wished again to reach out his telepathy, to feel the edges of Wyll’s mind so he might know.

But instead he just nodded his head, and he relished the relieved sob that escaped Wyll.

He wanted to believe this. 

Even if it was a lie.

[2a8n]

Shirogane's dream - Monologues

As I promised, we will be covering monologues in the Shirogane's dream and some of his changes in the Ice Scream Remake in a separate post. Here will be purely my reflections, as always. However, I would also like to see your thoughts on this theme. And now let's get started!

Wowww, you're so weak. "Wow, you are so disgusting." Well, did he start behaving less disgustingly from this? ( - _ - ) Crying from a mere orca punch? Gross. Has our hot-tempered penguin ever found Shirogane crying? And what's more, did Shiro tell him why he was crying? Could this be the reason why our depressed wolf is now hiding from everyone to cry, and can not really tell anyone about his experiences? Just be quiet. Hmm… Shirogane said something to our polar bear, but in response she just shut him up? It's curious. Usually Rocma starts a dialogue with Shiro, who in turn either remains silent or answers her with monosyllabic sentences like "I'm sorry", "I'm sorry… (next comes the answer to the question she asked)", etc. I can remember a moment from manga, when our wolf was indignant at what she said instead of "Thank you", but she only ignored him and continued to talk about her own. Hey, Shirogane! You're looking stupid as always! Shirogane seems to have an over-hyper fixation on his appearance, since Suno-san refers to it more than once when verbally insulting a wolf. It is likely that this is due to the scars that were once inflicted on Shiro's body and on his face. These scars apparently bother him so much that he doesn't want anyone to see and/or mention them at all (he even hid the scar on his face from Yukisada, his friend, at one of DSP's official works).

….. ….. It reminded me of the moment in Ice Scream Round 3 where Yukisada had to remain silent for most of Rocma's scolding with roughly the same facial expression. ♪ Looks like someone was in a good mood. Too bad Shirogane can't boast the same… =( Hi, doggy! ♪ I'll give you a nice punch in the face. Even railroads could envy his directness. Really nothing to add. You really are pathetic, huh… Peraco seemed to hope that he wasn't pathetic (by the standards of the inhabitants of Iceberg Isle, I guess), but Shiro couldn't live up to her expectations. You're lower than a seal, you moron. If "seal" means Mafuyu, it's rather strange that you don't call her by her name, Rock.

H-Hey, don't say such mean things, everybody! Yukisada is the only one who tries to stand up for Shirogane. Our kindhearted owl is even ready to go against the majority opinion for him. I respect. I'll give you something to cry about. If you finally get off this isle, then believe me, everyone will cry. From happiness. =) I'm just speechless. When someone is speechless, they usually don't say anything, so don't lie to us, Rocma. ? We are often shown Mafuyu from a fragments of Shirogane's memories. I don't understand, why he pays quite a lot of attention to her, despite the fact that the seal girl herself, based on what is shown, doesn't do a lot of things. You're like a water flea about to die! Have you… seen a dying water flea somewhere? In the North? Or is it usually on TV at the Peraco's house?

Weakling! Worm! Wood louse! And now I'm even more inclined to think that they learned about the water flea, the worm, the wood louse, the caterpillar and the bees from the TV in the Peraco's house… Hey! Shirogane's crying! Stop it! Shiro upset that Yukisada has to stand up for him? Does he feel guilty that his friend has to do this, or is Shirogane ashamed that he can't take care of himself? Ahahahaha! You big baby! Look at the big baby! Here, Suno-san is trying to play on the shame of our pessimistic wolf. But, judging by the words of the snowman, there must be someone else (maybe Yukisada?) in order for the effect to be more tangible from what he said to him. You're dead, kiddo. Heh, it's funny that Rock in Ice Scream Original addressed our wolf not as "Shi*ogane", but as "kiddo". It's kind of a sad that DSP decided to remove it. ….. ….. Now I believe that you have speechless, Rocma. True. ( 0 v 0 )

The part of the post dedicated to my reflections on the monologues from Shirogane's dream is over. Next will be my thoughts about the remade version of the same monologues from the Ice Scream Remake. I will not draw any definite conclusions, since this is purely reasoning on what has been said, some of which doesn't carry a large semantic load in the context of the Ice Scream itself as a whole. And now - to the finish line!

Silence yourself. | Just be quiet. The sentence has been changed, but the meaning is the same. Here, rather, the difference will be in which of the options we have for what Rocma said, rudeness and harshness towards Shirogane will be more noticeable. ♪ | ♪ You won't see anything new here. You can safely skip. Crying just because a big bad orca hit you? Gross. | Crying from a mere orca punch? Gross. "Big bad orca" -> "Big bad wolf"; that's funny. I think in the "big bad orca" version, Rock's derogatory attitude towards the Shirogane's situation is much seen stronger than in the other case. You are seriously pathetic. | You really are pathetic, huh… Here, Peraco's disappointment towards Shiro is no longer noticeable due to the unfulfillment of her hopes in his person. Now she just thinks he's pathetic. Heya, Shirogane! Your face is looking as stupid as ever! | Hey, Shirogane! You're looking stupid as always! Now Suno-san puts more emphasis in insults not so much towards the whole appearance of our pessimistic wolf, but towards his face. Hmm… Woaaah, eww. You're really weak. | Wowww, you're so weak. In the Original Idate showed feigned surprise at the wolf's weakness. In the Remake, he pretends that Shirogane's weakness is comparable to stepping on a poop, I guess.

Hey, everyone, don't say such mean things to him! | H-Hey, don't say such mean things, everybody! Yukisada is still the voice of adequacy in this madhouse, but, for some reason, the moment with his silence was cut in the Remake (I marked in purple what wasn't in the Remake). You're even worse than a seal, you absolute fool. | You're lower than a seal, you moron. Rock began to place more emphasis on insults towards Shiro. Considering that it is written in his bio that he takes out his disappointment on the poor guy, it becomes clear what DSP is trying to focus on. You wussy! Worm! Weevil! | Weakling! Worm! Wood louse! Nothing new has appeared. It's just that now we know that you can also see weevils on TV in the Peraco's house. You're like a water flea 3 second from its death. | You're like a water flea about to die! Given that both the in-game bio and his chart explicitly state that he has depression, I don't even know if Suno-san is trying to emphasize that Shiro is more dead than alive, or he looks like he's about to die… ( 0 _ 0 ) C'mhere, you worthles mutt. Let me give you a good punch. | Hi, doggy! ♪ I'll give you a nice punch in the face. Wolf, loser dog, pathetic puppy, doggy, worthles mutt… What's next? Mongrel? Squeak toy…?

Hey! Don't you feel bad for Shirogane? Stop it! | Hey! Shirogane's crying! Stop it! Yukisada, in my opinion, the normal attitude of others towards your friend should come not from their desire to feel sorry for him, but from their desire not to do bad things towards him… Ahahahaha! Crybaby! You snot-nosed wimp! | Ahahahaha! You big baby! Look at the big baby! In both cases, as for me, the phrases sound provocative. It's hard to explain without the context of what Suno-san has basically been saying all this time in the game. ? | ? You won't see anything new here. You can safely skip. How about I make you cry again? | I'll give you something to cry about. You won't see anything new here. You can also safely skip. I am so done with you. I have nothing left to say. | I'm just speechless. Now her phrase in the Remake sounds more like "preachy", and makes sense: in Watch 1, we were even shown how Rocma tried to Shirogane verbally "guide on the right path" while he was bleeding.

I'll kill you. | You're dead, kiddo. Bye-bye, kiddo… ( v _ v )