#it was a weird emotion paired against the expectation to just silently endure the ways he actively decayed my quality of life

[oglegoggle]

My body aches so fucking bad, my dudes.

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Let the Stars Witness

Okay okay holy— omg I did it! My first request and from an admired writer of mine no less!

From @kim-monsterlings : Hi and welcome!! Really looking forward to seeing your work! ~ If you would, could I request some form of friends to lovers with an orc? (Prompts maybe like, "you deserve better.") Thank you! <3

Since it wasn't specified on what their genders are, I hope your okay with what I went with! And I kinda trailed off from the prompt (or rather it's different but similar)

Anyways you'll know when you read!

•

Pairing: Male Orc (Duruk) x Human Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: None.

•

"You know, I never thought I would be friends with anyone here, especially with someone other than my, well, species," you tell your companion, your eyes not leaving the cloudless night sky as you lied on your back on the roof of his house. The stars were out tonight.

If you told your younger self that you'd be having great escapades (if running away and getting into a series of trouble fall under that) with an orc, you would most definitely cry your eyes out because you thought were being teased, taking it as a hurtful comment. You were sensitive like that. Part of the reason why no one would even go near you, afraid they might hurt you with a pat on the shoulder or with one word alone. You became the prime target of bullies, finding twisted amusement at your pathetic reactions. A crybaby, they called you. But it wasn't your fault you didn't have much control over your emotions. You were weird, asocial, timid, maybe even depressed. Having a neglectful family didn't help either, it just worsened.

•

The morning you met Duruk was after the orientation. And it was not so good for a first impression.

Long story short, you cried.

But since you're perhaps curious as to what happened exactly, let's elaborate.

You had your headphones on, the melodic sound of gentle rain played in a 3-hour loop and blocked out other noises, your eyes glued to the path you were on. You took long and hurried steps, wishing you could teleport to your classroom and hide in the back, disappear or become invisible.

You were distracted, or should we say, focused on the ground and expecting everyone to step aside and let you through.

Well, except for the one who had his back on you.

You crashed—not an exaggeration— into something- someone massive. You stumbled back and landed on your bum, wincing from the impact. Luckily, your headphones were safe (ah yes, priorities), detaching from your ears and landing on your shoulders. When you looked up to see who it was, you thought your eyes were gonna fall off, grow little legs, and scamper away.

Before you stood an orc, halfway turned to glance at whoever it was that tried to push him, his sharp tusks jutting out from his maw. His brows were furrowed as he looked down on you. Sure, he wasn't as tall as the orcs you've seen around the city and campus but still was over 6 feet, with muscles thicker than your thighs, easily hulking you.

You tried to get out an apology and run as far as you could go, but you just sat there, frozen as you strained your neck to meet his gaze, you couldn't look away. Your heart was trying to claw its way out into the surface.

Then you felt the tears swell up.

They cascaded down your face before you even could stop them.

The orc's eyes widened at your reaction and crouched down to your level in an instant that he almost fell over. His hands hovered, not sure what to do.

"Hey, hey, please don't cry. Please don't—"

"I-I-I'm re..really s-sorry p-please don't hurt m-me..." You managed to choke out pathetically, hiccuping in every word.

"Shhh now hey, it's okay. It was an accident— what? No! Why would I do that?" he replied. The orc peeked over his shoulder and to the sides. "Let's get you to somewhere, uh, less crowded," he added. You turned your head and saw that you had an audience, whispers went around as they sent pitiful and disgusted glances in your direction, only making you cry even more.

He proceeded to unceremoniously lift you into his arms, bridal style, and dashed away. You gripped the front of his shirt and shut your eyes. You were trembling now, scared of what he might do to you. How could you even fight back with your small stature?

It wasn't long until you felt him slow down and placed you carefully on a bench. The orc knelt in front of you, brows scrunched up as he studied your face.

"You okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You didn't reply, only staring at him through your glassy eyes as you heaved.

You flinched when his hand started rubbing your back, his other hand placed on the side of the bench to balance himself.

He continued to caress your back and murmured soothing words in hopes of calming you down.

Your tears didn't stop falling until moments later when you came down from your initial fear, the warmth of his palm leaving your back once you did. All the while the orc remained where he was, at a loss of what to do next.

You rubbed your sticky face with the collar of your pale and blotchy crimson sweater, sniffing and taking slow, deep breaths before you spoke.

"I... I'm sorry for causing you trouble. E-Even going as far as to take me somewhere quiet. I...appreciate that." You thought you'd pass out with the way people gathered around you, it was suffocating. "Thank you..."

"I panicked," he started, "Sorry—I mean, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I get that a lot of people run away from the sight of me, but you didn't, and just froze there on the ground so..." he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

You shook your head. He was such an imposing figure to many, their first thought was most likely to get away or scream at him.

"You looked angry... When I bumped into you." You slammed into him actually, but he didn't budge an inch. Guess it was one-sided.

"Oh, that? Well, my brother scolds me a lot for having such a grumpy face, scaring humans away. Like he was the one to talk when he's taller and bigger than me! People would faint on the spot when they see him, I bet!"

The image your mind conjured up tore a laugh out of your body, two orcs arguing about how not to terrify people at sight was damn hilarious. When was the last time someone made you laugh like this?

The orc grinned, your reaction a contrast to that of earlier.

You opened your mouth to say something but the ringing of the great bell resounded, cutting you off. The two of you stood up as you realized you were late for your first class of the school year.

"So, uh, what now?" you asked.

"How about we go to our class, then maybe meet up later? Oh, fu— my mother will gut me— I haven't introduced myself!" He blurted out, his voice making you yelp with the sudden outburst.

Clearing his throat, he reached out, "I'm Duruk."

In turn, you gave him your name, taking his hand and smiled. "Hello, Duruk."

•

True to his word, you met again later when lunch came. The cafeteria was packed so you settled on getting the convenience food they offered and eat somewhere quiet.

Your conversation that day spiraled when you found out the two of you had a lot in common. From your favorite rock band to your favorite flavor of ice cream.

You both strongly agreed that vanilla ice cream was superior.

You agreed to meet up during breaks, always having something to chat about.

Eventually, you became inseparable.

He even changed and transferred to your class just so the two of you could be together at the start of the day rather than walk half of the campus to see each other every time.

You became best friends, sharing each moment in school, may it be helping the other stay awake in a boring class, or copying homework when one of you forgot to do it. Soon enough, Duruk started inviting you to his house to hang out. He did mention he had four other siblings, but he lived alone. You came by almost every night and on whole weekends to escape from home, only a few miles in between. No one would notice you gone anyways, but you returned around midnight, not wanting to impose on Duruk no matter what he says, so he walks you back instead.

You basked in each other's company. The odd and scrutinizing glares didn't go unnoticed when you two were together, but you shrugged them all off.

It didn't take long before you started having feelings for the orc, a little wishful thinking that you could be more than friends. You noted lately that his touches would linger seconds longer than usual, hugs and even a hand on your shoulder and back seem to be warmer and —you dare say— affectionate. It weighed heavily on your heart, your simple crush turned into something else, and it only grew with each passing day, and every laugh you shared.

But of course, you swatted those away, buried them deep inside every damn time they climb back up. Who could even love you? Yes, you have Duruk, he likes you, you think. But that's the end of it. Just close buddies. You can't take the risk of ruining your friendship with him and make things awkward with the only one you had! What if he stops talking to you, weirded out by your confession? You don't want to go back to being alone again, your heart can't take the rejection that came with it.

So you endured.

•

A little over five months ever since the embarrassing accident, here you are now, stargazing with your best friend.

"Well, good thing you didn't watch where you were going that time then," he says, chuckling beside you. His hands cushioned his head against the hard surface. "I wouldn't have..." he trails off.

"Hm, what?" you ask. Duruk went silent and didn't answer you for a time. You were about to let it slide but then he breathes in audibly.

"I wouldn't have met an angel if you did. Should've caught you in my arms, but sadly I didn't move fast enough." He replies, his voice deep and mellow.

You straighten up and turn to face him, your brows shot up, incredulous to what he just implied.

"W-Wait. What?" you squeak, your heart thumping hard in your chest, your skin warming up even in the chilled night air.

Is he—

"You're so cute, y'know that? Fuck it, it's all or nothing," he whispers under his breath as he sits up to face you. His expression was unreadable, but you see in his mahogany eyes a familiar glint of determination. "I'm not good with long-ass speeches so I'll make this short," he breathes in before he continues, "I feel something for you, for a while now, more than a best friend does, like...in a romantic sense. I want to cherish you and hold you in my arms every time I see you, I- ah fuck- damn it I just—" he growls, "I love you, so much and if you don't love me back then please re—"

You shut him off with your lips against his, Duruk's tusks pressing against your cheeks as you held his face in your hands. He was stunned for two solid seconds before returning the kiss, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you close and into his lap.

You feel something wet roll down your hand and you immediately jerked back to see his face. The orc was crying.

Did you do it wrong? Were you so terrible at it—

"I don't deserve you... A monster like me doesn't deserve an angel like you."

Where was this coming from??

"Say that again, I dare you."

"I don't de—"

This idiot!

You pecked his lips to cut him off.

"You big dummy," you begin, "I love you too, idiot. You may be a monster but not what everyone else defines you as. I love you as you are. You're my best friend, and dare I say my l-lover now. Is that right...?"

Duruk gives you a small, gentle smile, "If you'll have me, then yes, for as long as you want me to be." He says, sniffling a sob as a couple more tears tumbled down his rugged face.

You never thought you'd see him like this. He was the one who kept making you laugh with his stories and terrible jokes. Before you, in your hands was someone vulnerable, his eyes soft and fond as he gazed into yours.

It made your heart pound and it hurt.

You leaned in and he met you halfway, kissing once again, deeper and more intimate this time. Real. You brought your arms around his neck, your tears spilling out and he tightened his grip around you. It felt like a dream, too good to be true, but the way he hugged you like you were the only thing that anchored him in this world made you believe it wasn't. All of this was real and you couldn't be anymore happier.

From above, the glittering stars, the light gentle as they shone, bear witness to two freed hearts, bottled up feelings gushing out like a broken dam as you embraced one another and lost yourselves in the moment of bliss, cheeks stained and clothes lightly damp from the tiny rivulets of liquid that dropped down.

It's a lovely night, isn't it?

[firelonewolf]

Hopelessly Bound

Summary: gaining the key to intimacy with Homelander is still going on. But more problems arise while you try to achieve the final goal.

Pairing: Homelander x CIA!Supe!Reader

Sequel to: Barrier

A/N: @darkmalice00 is the one to thank for this second part! I tried my hardest to get it to match the first one. Hope you like it!

Pushing your back against a couch you smelt the sweet smell of black tea with lemon juice. You only added a little bit of sugar, but it mostly had citric acid in it. Candle scented vanilla cookies took the place it was soothing, reminded you of being at grandma's. Heavy footsteps came before Mallory took a seat across from you. Stiring up her tea before sitting back and taking a sip. "Mission report," she commands to you. Taking sip of the naturally sweetened black tea you sat it down.

Inhaling before handing your hand out to her. She takes it with her slightly warm hands touching your upper arm. You shut your eyes and began to show everything. Relationships developed, what you saw in Homelander's mind, what you've heard. Everything centered around Vought.

But the hard part of memory sharing was the showing your mind walk. Mind walking hurt but combining it with memory share hurt even more. Flashes of the entire thing was taking energy out of you. At the final scene of it of Homelander submitting you pulled away. Gripping your head at the use of two powers at once, and yelped feeling blood tickle down your nose again.

Grace touched her head feeling half drained from that. "My goodness, I don't know how you can do it" she comments to you. Before pushing yourself back and wiping your nose. "My head throbbing at that. Do you want some aspirin?" She inquires to you heading over to get some. You shook your head at that. "Sometimes I forget how powerful you are. I've never met anyone with your abilities." She comments taking out the pills and popping two in.

Than sighed enduring your throbbing head. Felt like someone was squeezing it from the inside to the outside. It sucks for how much it hurts. "I usually drink a bit before it. Most of time I have some tequila beforehand. Numbs the pain, but I thought I could handle it without it." You remark with a sigh bringing your feet on to the couch and gazing down than felt a yawn.

Mallory sits back down doing the same. Sort of weird seeing her not in suits. Ever since her retirement things she switched from her suits to more comfortable clothes. Especially since she's been bird watching. "Good job, (Y/N), you gained access to his trust. Can you estimate when you can have the mind link with him?" She inquires taking a sip of her tea.

"Perhaps in a few weeks," you remark back.

"Good, I'll notify Butcher of the progress." She replies back to you. Boy, was this entire situation messy and like walking on egg shells. Mallory notices you face before sitting more forward at you. "This we've been waiting for. The official mission, I need you to remember (Y/L/N) you can't let them defeat you. You have a big heart, a good one. But I need you to remember, Homelander is a murder. You're helping the world by helping us take down this monster. Okay?" She inquires to you. Silently you nod at this. You had to remember this, and live by each of these words.

___

Bonding with Homelander was hard. It start out as simple things. Small talk evolved to more things. Than it evolved to joking and endless smiles. Than it just turned into an actual friendship sort of bond. Things were transforming rapidly at it was easier to access things with him, but harder. A sense of guilt sometimes overtook you at this entire scheme.

Each time you had to yell at yourself, he is a monster. Lab experiment that escaped, it still doesn't justify what he's damaged. How could it? People have died from his selfishness. None of his issues can excuse what hes become. He had a choice, and made it.

But soon enough it became different at the same time. Lingering long glances than that one time you said goodbye, sure it was a static shock but you felt it physically when you both realized your hands were stuck. But you couldn't let these advances affect you. Denying them was refusing the forbidden fruit and you knew that. Your like a black widow, but less epic, and didn't kill your spouse.

Your CIA training was rough, especially from your test. Thay made sure to throw anything rough at you, they made sure to give you the hardheaded attitude to withstand everything. They expected more from you because of the abilities, even going as far as to making you learn how to escape from a lot of things. The CIA and Mallory considered you climbing the ranks as soon as you graduated the academies. Your abitlies aided and they actually considered you intelligent in your very own way. Your scores with CIA test amazed them each time, and especially the physical test. A test with your power they had you create a mental link. Like always, they were blown away when you managed to do it successfully. Than came your first mind walk experience with a classified psychopath.

It was recorded, but what ended up happening you panicked. From all the darkness and the entirety of the fact inside of their head was a cyclone. But what they wanted you was to calm the psycho down for another case. You managed, but not without screeching like a banshee your head off and making the psycho as well. You ended up somehow breaking all the glass in a proximity.

Not that you had a sonic scream, no one had an explanation of what happened. Neither did you, but it happened and that was it. Binding almost made you rise to that level multiple times. You've only had that happened once, and it almost tore your entire vocals, ruining them. That would've made you voiceless, Mallory said once they would've codenamed you as Hush or something that meant voiceless. But little did you know it came to today.

Like any day, the Seven were out on a mission. Leaving you to do your normal task which meant digging for information. Until you saw from a nearby window people scrambling out of the place. Immediately your heart almost dropped to a deadly point, a cold sweat overtook you. Sprinting to the camera room, you saw lying on one of the floors was a the dead security. "Shit!" You hissed to yourself. Tapping your fingers rapidly you began to search through the cameras. Your eyes landed on a shooter. Everyone was either escaping or hiding. Until you spotted three hostages, "double shit." You hissed and began to search for any weapon. Outside of the office your eyes landed on a fire axe. "Screw my life apparently," you growled before taking it out.

Sprinting down multiple flights of stairs didn't make you break a sweat. CIA almost make you run until you vomit and keep going. Stealthy you began to make your way where you last saw the hostages. The Seven weren't here, and not everyone had the guts to fight. But you could rescue these civilians from a sick person despite them work for them.

But this reminded of you of one mission on a plane. Three of your teams were hostages, and you and another had to save them. But that missioned ended with you falling in the ocean, you were saved though by someone. But when they found you were halfway dead.

Not this time though. You planned on making it out alive and not near death. But fate wasn't the kindest person out there, was it? Than came where the Seven were done with there job, but to there surprised by Ashley, Vought International was under attack. Some crazed shooter blaming Vought came. Than came the recent call of them alerting you were fighting the shooter.

Somehow a screech of the person was muffled in the background. The minute they all heard your name, they all felt the world stop for a moment. Compared to Homelander, he felt the universe freeze for a brief moment. You were a fighter. But apparently the most selfless person in that place. And you were close to death.

Entirety of the whole situation changed in that exact moment. But everything turned inaudible as she talked about how Stillwell fine and most employees are okay, but that didn't matter. You were endanger and yet still decided to face it to save others instead yourself. As he began to march away he ignored how everyone began to pasture questions at him.

He ignored all of them before blasting off in the air. When he got closet enough to hear a screech of pain to where he felt a force launch him back somewhat. Glass broke on three different floors broke into billions of pieces. Landing in the moment he saw a bullet blasted in your left ribcage.

Weakly with blood pouring on your shirt you stumbled in shock before collapsing. On your face was blood pouring out like a river. Sweat and bags forming on your eyes. With your ears ringing from the damage you've caused with the mind walk, you lied defeated. The shooter cried than spotted Homelander who was in pure furious. What was scarier was the point he was thinking of nothing.

As if he was replaying the whole thing is his mind silently or was acting on wrath. In a millisecond you saw him take the throat of the shooter in his hand, and than laser eyes out. You saw the red beams break through the back of the guy's skull.

For a monster, he was very emotional. Drowsy greeted you, you wanted to shut your eyes in the brief moment. Homelander rushed over in a blink of an eye. For a moment you felt a sharp heat above the wound, as you passed out.

___

Paralyzed for a moment you felt awake. Were you in your astral projection form? Than forced yourself to shit, you felt weight. Nope, you were in your body still. Opening your eyes you forced yourself up. Around you was a four walled hospital room. With a bathroom on the side of it with a counter. You thought you were alone, than saw Homelander. Passed out on a chair by it. What time was it?

Seeing your clothes on a chair next to you, you felt almost stiff while starting to wake up your entire body. Grabbing your phone you turned the screen on, than saw it was nearly 6:30 and its been a day and a half. Than placed it back down to glance back at Homelander. He stayed? On a separate table on the other side was flowers.

Than a shark plush, immediately you smirked to yourself, that was the Deep's gift. So distinct compare to everyone else. Well, except Noirs. He put a card and a green tea latte mix with a new mug. Than Starlight's popped out, it was a cute card with a cartoon! But your gaze went back to the unconcious Homelander.

He stayed? Why? Did he actually care? Was he on to you? Was saving you for his benefit to find out who you actually were? Would he kill you after saving you? Or did he figure it out and plan on punishing you by forcing something out of you?

Debating within yourself you had to wonder. Did he genuinely care for you at this point? Was he more human now? As much as you wondered, you came to a conclusion. Both of you were the same at the end of the day. Lost, and eternally dark inside and hiding in the shadows. Difference was that you weren't a sociopath, you were just afraid of yourself and tried to do right.

Were you mad? Insane for caring and sympathizing with a sociopath? Why did you have to feel this way? Part of you wanted to shout for help to save you from loving a monster, but the other half felt scared for him. Could you save him? Could you actually save him from himself before it kills him?

All these raced before you. Than snapped at the sudden voice you heard. Your hair swayed as your head turned to the right. Part of it in your face at the sudden awaked Homelander. "Your awake" he yawned sitting himself up and stretching. "Its been a day and half. They took the bullet out. You surgery didn't take long thankfully, I was worried."

The last part made your heart swell. Why? You wanted to claw yourself apart, why was this happening? You were sinking down to him. This a disaster, and you liked it. Felt like a rush of adrenaline and freeing. You couldn't have whatever this is with him. You've never wanted something so bad, and you hated it. "You stayed here for me?"

His blue eyes flickered to you, your heart felt slightly warmed. "Yeah, I did." He said lowly to you sort of inching closer. This felt like magic. Why did it have to?

"Why?" You inquired awaiting his answer. You didn't use telepathy to hear his thoughts. You listened to his voice instead of his head.

He paused for a moment peering down at his hand before his gaze switched to you. "Because I was terrified." He states, for a moment you searched for a lie. But you couldn't help but feel yourself leaning in. "I was... scared for you."

"I'm okay now, no need to worry anymore." Warm, you felt a warm compare to his cold touch of his lips. He was so cool, you couldn't help passionately kiss him. Felt like magnets, magnetism of a force pulling you together. You loved how it felt as if water and fire came together.

Different forces of nature that are oil and water. And you loved it, just like how you felt with him at the moment. Not that it wasn't meant to be, well it sort of was. But you were seeing a different side of him from the cameras and the Boys. This humanity was hidden in him, no matter how much he tried to kill it. Brief moments he embraced it, and it was a different energy that was intoxicating. It was poison.

His venom was like a drug. But you wanted to escape the high but wanted to enjoy it. You couldn't help it though, as your heart swelled of how he made you feel. How he genuinely cared for you like a normal person. Half of you hissed how he wasn't normal though.

At that realization you wanted to cry, but refused the emotion. Hearing him laugh made you laugh in the moment as well, before kissing him again. This emotion inside of you that yearned for him was so addicting. Taking his upper arm to pull him closer, than felt a tether almost force.

Tether that was so tough like fiber strength. In that moment you blinked to feel a cool breeze than blinked your eyes open. In the moment you felt Homelander arm still in your grip. Than noticed the attire changed for both of you. Both of you pulled apart to see your world before.

On a cliff of bright green grass with mountain flowers everywhere. Sunshine that radiated warm all around. It was comforting but abive you was a lilac trees bloomed purple flowers. Pedals hitting you on your head. Near it down the cliff was a heliotropes. Both of you glanced around the place realizing where you were. "What the?" You hear Homelander say. "Where are we? Can you teleport?"

You shook your head at pure shellshock of what was happening. "I can mind walk.." you say lowly. "Mind walk, I think both of our minds clashed together. This has never happened..." you state. As he pulled from you than you saw.

He wore a black version of his suit with only white on it somewhat. Than you had a white sundress with red floral prints on it. "Its beautiful here..." he responds turning to you. Warmly you smiled surprised of how he was taking it. "Your mind alerting," he comments. Electricity was in his eyes perhaps from the intensity of both of your emotions? "Your incredible" he says pulling you back into one. Before feeling heart in a sharp pain the moment. For something that feels so right, it so painful, why? "I think I love you." John says in that moment pressing his temple against yours. Light tears came down your face that he didn't notice.

Sucking in a breath to gain to courage. Despite feeling all the butterflies in your stomach. "I think I love you too." You remark in a whisper.

___

Marching to Mallory's place after you were discharged from the hospital was so emotional for you. Crying you explained to her the entire situation. You showed her through your memory of everything. How he saved you, how he stayed by you. How he submitted to you. She congratulated on the mission complete on mind linking, now you have a official bond with Homelander. But to her shock, it deeper now that your both in love. You wasted no time quitting, and packing everything in your apartment. Luckily there wasn't much.

Your new mission was here. Stay with Billy Butcher and help them take the supes down. Much to how your heart ached at how you had to disappear from the face of the Earth. Despite only have Starlight left of the Seven no matter how much you'll miss the rest. They were broken people, in a broken place. Mainly Homelander.

Mallory cooked up a excuse to leave, one without you having to die. As you unpacked a couple of your things in a pair of a red wine colored tank top with a pair of black cargo pants. Billy sat on his couch contemplating why Mallory commanded him to let you stay with him. He pastured you with questions before the entire thing.

Yet you and Mallory agreed not to tell him why the mission was complete and what happened in between. Butcher would kill you, you had to keep it a secret. His thoughts were so loud compare to him vocally. Submitting and telling him the truth was hard, but you have to hide it from him.

Much to his dismay of knowing there was more to it than just a simple mission complete. But as you unpacked you couldn't help but have your heartache at thought of John. How he kissed you, how you felt. Like fine wine, it felt great but you knew you shouldn't. Scrubbing off your mind from him won't happen. Running away won't fully work without you yearning for him still.

Out running him wasn't possible either. His face was everywhere. Time to stop thinking about going backwards. You pulled out a silver necklace that was small. Middle of the small knot with a "J" in the center of it. No matter how much you were in love with him it was doomed. Doomed love that was hopelessly bound to happen. Allowing this disaster to happen was stupid, but too late to fix. No matter how much you felt in love with him. Like Butcher would say, if he did know, don't be a lovesick cunt.

"Do you want to get a drink later at the pub later? Watch one of the games?" He inquires to you as you hide the necklace again. Than hold a book in your hand.

"Yeah, that'll be nice after dealing with those supes" you remark with a light laugh. He returned to back to you. Ignore the forbidden fruit, now matter how you like the feeling of being in love. No choice but to move forward until all of this is finally done.

[brokenjardaantech]

eternity

summary: six times allen celebrates connor's birthday (and one time he doesn't)

happy birthday, connor.

also on ao3

2038:

The first birthday Allen spends with Connor isn’t as much of a celebration.

An android killed its former owner and kidnapped a girl, said girl’s life is on the line because the android is standing at the edge of the roof ready to jump at the smallest hint that it’s going to be hurt, and now he’s supposed to wait for a prototype android which he didn’t even know about until a few minutes ago to take over the situation as a test? This is directly against Allen’s ethics, but seeing that command has declined his request to reclaim control over the situation multiple times, nothing short of the new android malfunctioning on spot would change their mind. Helplessness is an emotion he’s familiar with, but it doesn’t mean that he’s used to it. He also doesn’t mean to yell at the new android - Connor, model RK800 - but he does anyway before taking cover behind a toppled table where he can see every single one of his still standing teammates in the penthouse, with every single second Connor wastes wandering around the apartment bringing up his anxiety up a notch. He uses the time to get the paramedics, threaten the press to get the fuck out of there so that they don’t agitate the android outside even further with the transmissions and chopper noises. It is only when he’s done with all of the above that Connor goes outside, and within the penthouse, he orders the entire team to change formation, ready to strike when the situation calls for it.

He certainly doesn’t expect Connor to defy the PL600’s wishes and save the cop lying on the side. He also doesn’t expect it to dismiss the chopper, but then again, he also saw the android take the gun under the table even though its programming should prevent it from doing so, so for it to be able to do the impossible… maybe there is a chance for tonight to end on a relatively positive note.

Until Connor decides that the best course of action is pulling the girl towards itself so that it can use the momentum to push the PL600 off the edge, sealing its fate as the domestic android unloads an entire clip of bullets into its body.

Half the squad rushes forward to access the damage as soon as the magazine is spent, and as Allen kneels down on Emma’s side to shield her from the sight of thirium gushing out from the bullet wounds on Connor’s body, he can’t help but notice the LED on its temple spinning red a few times before going dark.

So much for a successful test.

---

2039:

Considering the circumstances, Allen isn’t sure if it’s appropriate to celebrate Connor’s first birthday, but it also feels wrong not to when Connor is now a permanent fixture in his team and it’s Allen’s job to keep track of the wellbeing of his teammates, so after thinking the idea through for a few days, he decides to get the android something small and functional.

What propels him to include a fidget ring in the package, he has no idea. Probably because his brain only focused on the ‘small, subtle and functional’ part of the fidget instead of the ‘ring’ part of the equation when he ordered the thing, but it’s too late now, he’s already walking towards Connor’s desk and Connor has noticed him, and turning back will be weird at the least and rude at the worst; the android has enough problems finding his place in the team enough it is. He places the paper bag containing the assortment of fidgets on the edge, observing the way Connor’s gaze travels along with it before looking up and meeting Allen’s gaze.

‘What is this?’ Connor asks.

‘I don’t know if you celebrate it but…’ sometimes Allen does wonder how much of his social skills stem from what he calls his SWAT Captain override, ‘I got you something for your birthday.’

‘Androids don’t have birthdays, Captain.’

‘Your activation day, then. It’s fine if you don’t want to accept it; I don’t even know if you do the birthday thing and -’

Allen somehow becomes too focused on rambling that he doesn’t notice Connor pulling the bag towards himself and examining its content. A small tub of slime, two fidget cubes of different dimensions, a small bubble fidget, and finally, the ring. The room is silent save for the hum of electronics and the sound of fingers hitting the projected keyboard on their desks, and no one bats an eye or turns around to see what’s going on as Connor tries every single one of the fidgets on spot and then setting them aside; when it comes to the ring, Connor first takes it between his fingers and gives it a few spins, then rolls it on his fingertips in a way slightly different from that he used to play with his coin, and then slides it onto his left pinky. He smiles at Allen. ‘Thank you. They’re all wonderful.’

Something shifts within Allen but he can’t pinpoint what exactly it is. Seeing that his task is done, he says, ‘I’m glad that you like them,’ and returns to his office for more paperwork.

---

2041:

Allen intended to make getting drinks a yearly thing for Connor’s birthday, but his plans get scrambled as soon as he realises that he can’t contact the android in any way. He’s neither reading his messages nor accepting any calls, which isn’t Connor’s usual habit, and as the day approaches its end and midnight tickles by, he starts to worry. They promised to celebrate together this year, so where has Connor gone now?

He dares not sleep even after getting home, his cats splayed in various positions around him while he anxiously switches from show to show available on the subscription service on the TV, and he forces himself to drink a small can of coke so that the caffeine will keep him awake for a few more hours as he shoots message after message to both Connor’s phone number and internal contact. Not panicking is an easy thing, him having mastered the art of forcing himself to calm down even in the direst situations since he was young - at least, that’s what he tells himself.

The trembling in his hands tells a different story, but it can simply be the caffeine.

His doorbell rings at 3 am, and when he opens the door, Connor is standing outside like a lost puppy. He smells weird, his posture slack in a way Allen has never seen before, but Allen admits him anyway, standing to one side to let the android go through the door and take off his shoes, his thoughts flying back to the present he prepared for Connor that now sits in a package on his coffee table. ‘Where have you been?’ he can’t help but ask. I was worried, he wants to add, but no use doing that now; Connor is safe in his house, and it’s all that matters.

Connor suddenly swivels around and stares at the human intensely. It is a look Allen sees often when he goes to bars and decides to mingle with the crowd, but never one that he reciprocates because he just isn’t interested or attracted to random strangers; with Connor, however, things are slightly different, and he finds himself frozen in an unfamiliar emotion as the android scans him from head to toe. Anticipation.

‘Looking for you,’ Connor replies in the end, and the next moment Allen finds himself being pushed up against the wall and the taste of warm water and plastic on his lips, on his tongue, in his mouth as something hard pokes at his hip.

An inhuman hiss from somewhere close to the ground reminds him that he’s still in the living room and it’s hardly a good place to do… whatever Connor is planning to do, even though he has a slight idea on where the night will go, and he pushes the android off himself as soon as he feels his lungs burn. ‘Bedroom,’ he orders breathlessly, and he doesn’t wait for Connor’s response before scooping him up by his thighs and carrying him upstairs. He doesn’t keep anything related to sex in his house - masturbating does fuck all for him and his previous relationships were never long enough to make him attracted to his partner - but as soon as he gets Connor’s trousers off and discovers that the android is, in fact, self-lubricating, he sweeps his worries to one side and focuses on giving Connor what he seems to want right now. He isn’t ashamed to admit that they fucked like bunnies. Connor moans so deliciously while he bounces on Allen’s dick, and when his movements get too arrhythmic to be pleasurable for either of them, Allen simply flips them over so that Connor is underneath him and ploughs into him like there is no tomorrow. He’s surprised when the skin on his cybernetic leg deactivates to reveal plastic not unlike Connor’s chassis; he’s surprised to find that Connor orgasms easily, the android shuddering apart multiple times before the thought of approaching his own orgasm even crosses Allen’s mind; he’s even more surprised at himself that he has the endurance despite having gone without sex for years.

In any case, he ends up coming in Connor’s arse and collapsing on top of the android with a groan that is quickly swallowed by Connor pressing his lips against his like they’re his lifeline. Then he gets up, tells Connor to get up to take a shower as well so that he can quickly strip the bed and change into new sheets, puts the dirty sheets into the washer-dryer, and then takes a shower himself after the android is done. He forgoes most of his usual sleeping attire and settles for a pair of boxers instead, but nothing prepares him for Connor putting on his old clothes as if he’s prepared to leave. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Back,’ is Connor’s too-fast reply as he struggles with the buttons of his shirt. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t wish to impose.’

‘You aren’t,’ Allen lies down on his usual side of the bed and pats the empty space next to his body. ‘You can stay if you want to.’

Connor freezes. He looks… lost. ‘You don’t mind?’

Allen tries to soften his expression. ‘Why would I?’

That seems to do the trick, and Connor strips until he’s also only in his underwear and settles down next to the human without touching him. Allen tucks them in, reaching around to make sure that the blanket is wrapped snugly around both of them, and he lets himself drift despite the questions he has in his mind: where did Connor go? Why did Connor choose him? Why did he not answer his calls and messages? Why did he seem to forget that today - or yesterday now, technically - is his birthday?

His train of thought is interrupted by Connor scooting closer almost hesitantly, and he places a careful arm around the android’s waist to show that he doesn’t mind it at all even though his still-bare cybernetic leg tickles slightly from getting into direct contact with someone else’s skin. Connor seems to take it as permission to plaster himself against him and even tucks his face into Allen’s neck. He hears a wet sniff, and instead of mentioning it and pushing the subject, he runs his hand through Connor’s hair and pats his back with another to offer him comfort, the repetitive movements lulling him into sleep quicker than he expects. Faintly he hears Connor breathing a small ‘thank you’ before pulling away and turning to hug the human’s arm.

The last thing Allen remembers before darkness claims him is kissing Connor’s forehead sleepily.

---

2042:

It took Allen a few months and a few more heart-to-hearts in their privacy of his home to get the whole story out of Connor, and by the time Connor’s fourth birthday rolls by, he realises that they’ve been dating for a bit more than a year. His sister once told him that he’s the type of boyfriend who will go all-out for his partner if he ever dates, and standing in front of the mirror trying to fix his tie, he finally realises how right she is.

He is distracted quickly, however, when he tries to fix his hair and finally notices that he still isn’t greying at all.

Shaking his head to clear his head - his boyfriend’s birthday is hardly a suitable time to have an existential crisis - he focuses on making himself immaculate for the date he arranged for Connor a month prior. The android let slip that he wanted a more traditional date, so even though Allen knows that Connor can’t eat human food, he picks a restaurant where thirium is also served so that they can both consume something before going back to Allen’s and actually celebrate with the sweetest words and the wildest sex. He just hopes that Connor likes his gift for this year which, when compared to the previous ones Allen has given him, seems insignificant and bland on the surface.

The logical part of his mind tells him that Connor isn’t a shallow person, but it doesn’t mean that the part that always feels disappointed in himself no matter what doesn’t have a say in the situation.

Their date is a quiet affair, Allen too jittery to have much of an appetite and Connor too occupied by people watching to talk to his boyfriend, and the frizziness of the glass of sparkling water he ordered for himself doesn’t help calm his nerves. He doesn’t know if Connor keeps track of his vitals or if the android cares, but by the time he’s done with his salad, he feels like he’s about to melt on spot from sheer pressure.

Calm the fuck down, Captain, he tells himself as he holds the glass and tries not to tap his nail against it. Just pretend that this is a new proposal. Proposal. Ha. Maybe not that quickly, you old man.

‘Having fun?’ he finally gathers enough courage to ask. This is their first line of dialogue in more than twenty minutes. ‘I hope you like this.’

Connor slowly takes a sip of his thirium. Then he reaches out, takes Allen’s hand in his own, rubs the human’s scarred knuckles. ‘I do. Exactly what I need, as always.’

Allen blushes. ‘It’s your birthday,’ he answers, and it falls lame even to his own ears. He clears his throat. ‘Speaking of,’ he reaches into his pocket with his free hand, takes out the key, and places it next to Connor’s hand, ‘happy birthday, Connor.’

The android doesn’t let go of his hand as he pulls the key closer towards himself. In Allen’s lowly opinion, the assortment of keychains - a tiny St Bernard sculpt, a heart-shaped charm made out of silver wires with a blue crystal suspended in the middle Allen might have spent hours perfecting, a hollow circle of iridescent metal - is more important visually than the key itself, but all he can think of right now is whether Connor understands the implication behind the gesture or not, and if he will accept Allen’s offer.

Connor gently rights the St Bernard keychain and pats its head with his finger. ‘Is this what I’m thinking of?’

Captain override, captain override. ‘A year ago, you came to me in the middle of the night for comfort. Since then, we’ve become more than colleagues, more than friends,’ he doesn’t realise how hard he is squeezing the android’s hand until he pauses. ‘You’ve moved most of your stuff to mine anyway so… I think we can make it official. Living together, I mean.’ When Connor doesn’t reply at all, he scrambles, ‘You told me that you never liked living in those Jericho-managed flats and it didn’t feel right to live at Anderson’s either after -’ he watches Connor’s expression closely - ‘after Sumo died so… yeah. I know it isn’t much of a present to invite you to live with me because you’re already doing it most of the time, but I think it’ll -’

‘Come here, silly human.’

Reaching across the table, the android cups the human’s cheeks and pulls him in for a quick kiss before releasing him and settling down in his seat. ‘Of course I will,’ he says, beaming. ‘We deserve it.’

‘“It?”’

‘Being together.’

Allen can’t help but giggle. Maybe he isn’t the only sappy one among them, after all. ‘That we are,’ he clangs his glass against Connor’s in a small toast. ‘That we are.’

---

2045:

Allen doesn’t even remember it’s going to be Connor’s birthday soon until it’s too late. Too busy recovering from a traumatic mission which resulted in the deaths of most of his team and his two right limbs, his life in the past few months consists of trying not to die by trying to stay awake, more physical therapy than a normal human should have but since he’s got top-of-the-line cybernetics in his body - whatever that means, he doesn’t feel any different apart from the fact that his new prosthetics don’t like obeying his head - it’s supposed to accelerate instead of hinder his recovery, and debating whether he should retire at the age of 50 and become a househusband worrying about his android husband’s safety every day he goes to work. On a good day he still looks 40, so he really isn’t sure if he really can’t return to his former duties after his right arm and leg finally listen to him. Maybe physically. Mentally, he’s just all over the place.

The ring hanging from a chain he wears around his neck is sometimes the only thing keeping him going.

He can’t help but groan as he hears someone barge into his room in what seems like early morning but is probably sometime closer to noon. He is still tired from the eight-hour physical therapy session yesterday, and his muscles are aching all over even after a bath and a full night’s sleep. The world can wait. ‘I assume you aren’t Connor,’ he lays his arm on his eyes and squeezes his right fist. Constant exercise. ‘I’ve got no therapy today, so please let me rest.’

‘Today is also the fifteenth of August, Allen,’ it is Nines’ voice who answers him. ‘Do you remember what date it is, or has your recovery forced you to devote most of your brainpower to keeping yourself afloat?’

It does feel like that sometimes, Allen wants to say, but for the sake of his future brother-in-law(ish), he wrecks his brain trying to remember what’s special about today. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Fucking mother of -

‘Shit!’

He scrambles to sit up just to forget that his right arm still isn’t quite in sync with the rest of his body and promptly bangs his forehead against the bars on the sides of the hospital bed, and though he’s grateful that Nines is immediately at his side helping him sit up properly, staying in bed is the last thing he wants to do; it’s Connor’s birthday, for fuck’s sake, and he’s going to get him something even if it means delaying his release from the hospital.

‘Hey, slow down,’ Nines pushes him onto the bed. ‘We have seven hours to get everything done.’

‘It took me a week to plan everything last year,’ Allen complains. Seven hours is not enough. ‘And why seven?’

‘The time now is ten in the morning and Connor will get off work at five. Including travel time, you’ll have roughly seven hours to think of something for his birthday - if you’re up to it. Your temporary discharge papers are ready; I have Connor’s permission to kidnap you out of the hospital.’

‘Hell yeah,’ Allen tries to cheer himself up. ‘Lead the way.’

Hours go by, and his enthusiasm is beaten down bit by bit as the sun changes angles and he realises that no matter what he does, nothing seems good enough. He thinks of getting a thirium cake, and he remembers that he already got one for Connor the year before and Connor didn’t even like it after the novelty wore out; he thinks of making something for his fiancé, and he remembers that his fingers aren’t the most coordinated things in the world right now; he thinks of taking Connor to dinner, and he remembers that all he can offer is crappy hospital food and thirium that the android probably doesn’t even need. He wants to cry but he’s too tired from being baked under the sun to do so, therefore all he can do as he waits for the traffic light to turn green is sit in his wheelchair and feel his eyes water.

‘You know Connor will be happy with whatever you can give, right?’ he knows Nines is trying to comfort him, but it’s never about Connor’s expectations, no; it’s always been about himself, his desire to give and show that he loves Connor, and now he can’t even do something special on a special day. ‘He’s looking forward to spending his time with you.’

‘In the fucking hospital? Save it,’ he doesn’t mean to snap at the android and instantly feels guilty about it. ‘I’m sorry. I just -’

I just want to do something special for him.

Nines is either ignoring him or has already forgiven him. Allen doesn’t know which one is worse. ‘I have a suggestion, if you may.’

He sighs. ‘Shoot.’

Instead of telling him directly, Nines brings him to the craft store and purchases a balloon in the shape of a thirium pouch. The shop helps them inflate it, and Nines ties it to one of the armrests so that it won’t float away while they go back to the hospital. ‘That’s it?’ Allen’s curiosity finally bubbles through when he’s greeted with the familiar scent of his hospital room. ‘A blood bag balloon?’

‘I can write a message on it if you want.’

Allen muses over the idea. He doesn’t think he has a lot to say, but it’s a birthday after all, and there are certain scripts that he can stick to when composing a message to Connor. ‘I’ll write it myself,’ he decides in the end. ‘Give me a marker, can you?’

‘Can you?’

‘Can I what?’

‘Write.’

‘It’s good practice.’

It is hard to hold a pen when your nerves aren’t listening to your brain. It’s hard to write. It’s even harder to write on a curved slippery surface. By the time Allen is done with ‘HAPPY,’ his prosthetic hand is smudged in ink and his right shoulder already needs a break, but he feels accomplished. It feels… doable.

‘Now do “birthday,”’ Nines orders.

Allen compares his current handwriting size to the space available to him. He shortens the word to ‘BDAY’ instead and adds his signature underneath afterwards, and he holds it in front of him so that he can examine his handiwork. Not as good as he expected, but that will have to make do given the time and resources. He just hopes that Connor likes it.

‘I’m sure my brother will like it,’ Nines reassures as if reading the human’s thoughts. ‘He loves you, after all. Now take a nap; you’ll want to be at full strength when he arrives.’

Allen falls asleep to the balloon drifting somewhere above his head. When he wakes up, Connor is there with him, playing with the edge of the balloon while staring at the human’s handwriting as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. He’s still tired physically, but his heart soars with the knowledge that his gift is well-received.

The fact that the balloon later has a place on the wall of their house after it’s deflated makes him happy.

---

2055:

For Connor’s seventeenth birthday, he books himself a full-body biocomponent replacement appointment. ‘You told me to treat myself,’ he said to Allen when the human asked him why he picked that day to do so. ‘So I’m treating myself.’

‘By replacing your organs?’

Connor propped himself in Allen’s lap and kissed him. Hard. ‘So that we can have an eternity together, dumb human.’

Allen didn’t bother correcting him that he’s more bot than human now, his cybernetics having taken over much of his biological functions to make him essentially immortal, but it was nice to pretend once in a while, and now that he is witnessing Connor being prepped for an android equivalent of full-body organ replacement surgery. If everything goes well, they’ll have the entire evening to themselves to get used to and explore Connor’s new biocomponents, but if it doesn’t…

Guess they’ll have to delay the celebrations to the day after. That’s all.

‘Anything you want to say to each other before we put him under?’ the tech asks.

Allen moves closer to Connor’s bed so that he can hold his hand. ‘I’ll be waiting outside,’ he tells Connor. ‘Just shoot me a message if you’ve got something to say.’

Sure thing, Connor replies directly through an interface, and it’s something Allen is still getting used to. Or I can just do this.

‘Whatever suits you.’

They dare not waste what precious time they have, so Allen leaves after kissing Connor one last time before the start of the procedure. Spending half a day watching his husband’s biocomponents being ripped out carefully and replaced with new ones and his thirium being completely replaced with fresh ones isn’t exactly what he has in mind, but nonetheless he’s glad that he is here today.

It means they’ll have an eternity together.

~~~

21??:

Not today, dumb human.

Allen lowers his hand back to his side and focuses inward so that he can talk to Connor better. Since Connor’s consciousness was uploaded to his brain as a last-ditch effort to save his soul, they’ve shared the same body ever since, and while they can retreat to their shared headspace to do whatever they want, Allen still has a physical body to maintain, there is so much to explore now that humanity is no longer bound to a floating rock called earth, and the two of them frequently goes out with either one of them handling the body and the other riding along and see the world through the same pair of eyes. Right now Allen is in control of the body, and it only takes a glance at the calendar to remember that today is Connor’s birthday.

Or at least, it used to be.

We picked a new birthday, remember? The day we merged? We don’t even use the same calendar anymore.

Allen has to pause and think. Right. He shrugs, goes to the other section of the store to pick out something for Connor anyway because he’s set on spoiling his soulmate anyway, birthday or no. It's also a good day to remember where they came from.

Who knows this will be our destiny? Connor chuckles, and Allen finds the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as well. Separate but also as one. When we met in that penthouse.

Allen pays for the things and exits the store. The world ahead curves upwards, the sky a flat but realistic projection of what a morning sky should be on earth. An artificial breeze brushes his face, and it smells like flowers, like the purified rain that will no doubt sweep across where they are standing soon.

It’s unexpected, he admits, but I’m glad that it went down this way.

Me too, Allen.

Connor wraps his consciousness around Allen’s like the perfect blanket, weighing just enough to give him a sense of safety and keeping him warm but not suffocating. The fifteenth of August may not be Connor’s birthday anymore, but it’s a day Allen will remember for a lifetime, an eternity. A habit that he will never break even though the original date is already lost in the river of history. It makes them happy.

And it’s all that matters.

[thewhiterabbit42]

What Lies Beneath

Pairing: Gabriel x reader, some Sam x reader and Dean x reader, some Debriel if you squint

Summary: The reader tries to move on after Gabriel’s death.  Is she losing her mind, or is there more going on than there seems?

Written for: @gone-to-fight-the-fairies​

Drunk drabble request:  Gabriel, yellow, succulent plant

Word Count: 3409

Warnings/Tags: canon divergent, swearing, some sexual situations but no smut

A/N:  Admittedly, this started as a drunk drabble, and after I hit about 1k the idea just stuck with me and I finished it sober.  I really love what was started and hope I get to play around more with this in the future.

You don’t know why they remind you of him.  If there’s any plant Gabriel’s been tied to, it’s lilies, but that’s not what caught your eye when you went looking for something in honor of the archangel.  

“Yellow succulents?”  Sam’s the only one to say a word as you add them to the arrangement in the middle of the underground garden devoted mostly to spell ingredients.  He makes a face as if impressed.  “Fitting.”  

They are.  They’re hardy little suckers that can endure conditions in which most living things would shrivel up and die.  Perhaps its that resilience that made you go with them.  Perhaps it’s the fact the warm color reminds you of how he was before Asmodeus got his hands on him.  The same you saw start to bloom again in the last few days leading up to his sacrifice.  

Now, he’s just another spot in an ever growing memorial as you try to keep his, and so many others’, memories alive.  

A little morbid, don’t you think?  The thought slides across your consciousness, unbidden.  

You mentally bat at it, sending it back from where it came as you reassure yourself that there’s nothing wrong with a tribute for someone who saved the lives of everyone living under this roof.  

***

It irritates you, the way no one remembers.  You remind yourself they didn’t know him, not really, but it eats away at you the more times they pass your display without so much as a glance.  You’re not certain anyone’s even noticed there is a memorial, let alone a central spot for him in it.  

Ingrates.

The word echoes beneath your breath, drawing Dean’s attention from where he’s clipping a few sprigs of lavender.  

“Did you say something?”  The dent between his brows suggests he’s heard what you said, and you don’t blame him for the odd look he shoots your way.  Who under the age of sixty even uses that word?

“Nobody cares,” you tell him, carefully adjusting some of the stones surrounding the plants.  “It’s like none of them remember what it cost to get them here.”

Dean pauses what he’s doing, staring down at the soft purple in his hand.  He takes a moment to consider his words.  You’re not sure if it’s a call for appreciation or concern, because he’s usually not this thoughtful when it comes to your conversations.  

You can practically hear Gabriel’s voice in your ear.  Don’t look the gift of an active-brain-cell-using Winchester in the mouth.

You almost smile, until Dean speaks, and an inexplicable absence wells up within you.  

“They remember,” your friend assures.  “Maybe not every minute of every day, but they know it wasn’t just Sam and I who got them here.”  

It helps in that it softens the brunt of your anger, but you're not certain you prefer the sadness that pools in its wake.

***

You miss him.  His presence.  The way it could fill the room with life in a way that your mind still can’t grasp.  It was something you could only understand through your senses, and without him, they lay dull and dormant, as if he was the reason they were ever alive in the first place.  

You try to keep a box around it, try to bury it so deep even you don’t know it exists.  Except there’s only so much you can pack away before the container swells too much and bursts.  

It floods you with an ache that resonates keenly with your loneliness.  The sentiment itself isn’t new, but the amount of it is, and you’re beginning to realize the death of your friend is simply the frosting to a cake that has been crumbling for years.  

There’s a heady layer of surprise that winds through it, one that makes you wish you had taken Rowena up on her offer to temporarily hollow you out so that you’d feel nothing, at the risk of feeling everything once the spell had worn off.  

You let out a small growl, drawing both Sam and Dean’s gazes from across the table.  

“Don’t,” you warn, eyes riveted to the book in your hand.   “Not a damn word.  Got it?”  

Dean exchanges a look with his brother and it takes them a moment of silent debate to figure out which one of them, if either, you’re even talking to.  

“Uh, sure thing, kid,” Dean finally says, but you don't notice, too busy desperately trying to cram your emotions so far beneath the surface you won’t be able to find them for at least another century.    

***

Sam Winchester is many things.  A good friend, usually being at the top of that list, which is why you mistake his offer for a movie night alone as nothing more than a helpful distraction.  The arm around your shoulder?  Simply comfort.  He knows how much touch grounds you, how just feeling someone’s body next to yours can drag you back out of the rabbit holes you tumble down.  

Except this isn’t one you can just be plucked out of, and the tongue in your ear does not belong to someone who’s just concerned.  

At first you melt against him.  It’s the first non-friendly contact you’ve had in ages, and a whole new perspective emerges as those large hands of his start taking possession over you.    

Something else quickly stirs beneath your body’s natural and wholly starved reaction, causing you to jolt straight up on the couch.  

“Oh god,” your eyes are wide, panic blossoming through your system.   “Gabriel!”

“Gabriel?”  Sam echoes, his eyes narrowing intently on you.

Shit.  Definitely not the time to be shouting other people’s names, let alone his.  

Sam stares at you, and it’s clear by the silence that follows he’s trying to choose his words carefully.  “Y/n, Gabriel’s dead.”

You scrub a hand over your face.  Just say something that will make him drop it.

“I loved him,” you blurt out completely to your horror.

Your mouth drops open, and there's a tense moment neither of you know what to say.

Awk-ward.

Your cheeks hit nuclear fusion, embarrassment quickly merging with your anger and spiking to unprecedented levels.

“God damnit, f--” you suck in a breath, cutting yourself off.  “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s ok,” Sam assures, his hand rubbing soothingly along your spine.  “I know he meant a lot to you.  I just - I guess I didn’t know how much.”

You drop your face into your hands, lips paling in a tight seal against your teeth as you use every ounce of self-restraint not to scream.

“No wonder you’ve been…”  He trails off, and you’re too busy fighting against the riptide of fury coursing through you to read between the lines.  “If you need time, I can wait.”

“How chivalrous.”  It’s a knee-jerk reaction, and you almost don’t recognize the voice that comes out of your mouth, though it’s undeniably yours.  

“Excuse me?”  From his tone, it might have been kinder -- and less confusing -- if you had simply slapped him or run off.  

The night’s still young an oh-so-helpful voice in the back of your head tells you.  

“I’m sorry.”  You bolt off the couch before you can say or do anything else that will make a complete idiot of yourself.  

Back in the solitude of your room, you spend the rest of the night hoping some freak wormhole will open up and swallow you into another dimension.

It doesn’t.

***

It’s been a good hunt.  Casualties are at a minimum, and the case itself is challenging enough to leave a thrill in your veins, but not so much that you’re wrecked and ready to sleep for a week.  

You hit up the closest place that serves alcohol, which happens to be a dive bar in the center of town. It’s just you and Dean, for once.  You’re not certain if Sam’s backed off after your strange encounter, or if Dean’s sensed the tension and tried to intervene by giving you both some space.  

The concept is clearly reserved for his brother, however.  

He's practically been on top of you this entire time, which is irritating on several levels these days.  You wish he'd just grow a pair and tell you what's on his mind.  Instead, he insists on hovering, and the longer you’re around him, the more you feel like crawling out of your skin.  

You hit your tipping point once you’re someplace past tipsy when you’re attempt to get some air results in him practically escorting you to through the back exit like you were some prisoner.  He’s got his hand on your back the entire time, and for some inexplicable reason, you’re suddenly wading through every memory you can, trying to sort out if he’s ever been this handsy with you before.

The answer is not usually, but then again, it’s rarely ever just you and him.  

You know what they say.  When the cat's away...

You know exactly where that train of thought is headed, and it’s nowhere good.  

“Come off it,” you mutter, trying to manually shift the gears of your brain in a different direction.  

You feel Dean’s hand stiffen through your jacket.  “What?”  

Nice one.

You bite back your internal irritation, channeling it toward Dean who’s giving you a nice, long side-eye.  

“Whatever’s on your mind, just spit it out.”  

You expect him to brush it off, to play the tough guy, maybe scoff before finally admitting he’s worried about you.  The reaction itself doesn’t matter, because by the end of it, he’ll have forgotten you said anything strange and you’ll both be back on normal ground.  

Except he doesn’t do any of that.  The moment you call him out he freezes, reminding you of a cornered animal with the way his entire body goes rigid, as if he's unsure what this situation calls for.

It does not bode well for your theory that sometimes, a Winchester gets emotional on you and things just get weird for a night or two.

You don’t hear what Dean says beyond your name. You don’t need to.  It’s all there in the sudden heated, green glow that has your mouth going dry.  There’s nothing but the feel of brick at your back, and a silent chorus of not again that’s almost as frantic as your rapidly rising pulse.  

By the time his lips even make it near yours, you’re on the verge of having an anxiety attack.  

He tastes like whiskey and warmth, a note of loneliness running beneath it all.  You can’t get past the contrast of soft and hard within his kiss, the way his hands fist at the sides your shirt, waiting for your permission to proceed any further, and there’s a heady moment where the world begins to ink around the edges in a way that should make you question it.

The moment it returns in a dizzying rush, everything’s changed.  Your hands are in his hair, your tongue exploring his with as much ardor as his mouth remains locked with yours.  

You pull back so fast you nearly knock yourself out against the wall.  “Did you just kiss him back?!”

Dean blinks, stare hazy and so very, very confused.  “What?”

Don’t ruin this.  

“Oh my god, you did,” you gasp.  

Dean’s eyes become startlingly clear as he gives you a long, measured look.  “I thought you said that witch didn’t catch you with any hexes?”

“I - she didn’t, but…”

He sighs, hand running across his mouth as if trying to wipe the crazy off before he catches it.  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

He steps away, scratching at the back of his head.  “Maybe we should just call it a night.”  

“Yeah, that,” you eagerly agree, shoving off the wall and practically running back to the Impala.  

This is why we can’t have nice things.  The snark floats across your mind in wholly unhelpful ways.

“Don't.  Even," you hiss without regard to whether or not you’ve actually made it out of earshot.  

Dean thankfully takes his time catching up and doesn’t say a word when he climbs into the car beside you.  You don’t question the direction he’s driving, just grateful to be moving.  You’re too caught up in your inner dialogue, and it isn’t until you’re at the city limits that you realize you’ve been headed in the opposite direction of the motel this entire time.  

“Where are we going?”

You glance over, noting the way he refuses to take his eyes off the road.

“Sam's right.  Something's wrong with you.”

The indignance that winds through your surprise grabs hold of your mouth before you can stop it.

“So what?  Your plan was to try and bone my brains out in hope they went back in the right way?”  

You're not like this.  Your anger doesn't normally drip with sarcasm and bitterness that sours your tongue.  But it is you saying these things, increasingly so over the last several weeks, and it’s a wonder your friends haven’t called you on it before now.    

Dean licks his lips, the way he does when he’s not certain about the fight he’s about to pick.  

You have a feeling you know what’s coming, and you brace yourself for the inevitable.

“I know about your feelings for him.”

Oh for shit’s sake.  

You inhale.  Deeply.  Because out of all the conclusions he or Sam could come to, it really is this one.

It’s a wonder they haven’t ended the world well before now.

“Gabriel,” he continues, as if there’s any other divine asshole you could have randomly professed your love for.  

Noted.

You pinch the bridge of your nose.  Hard.  

You remind yourself Dean means well.  You can see the worry seeping through the hard lines in his features.  He only wants to help.  

Apparently by sticking his tongue in your mouth.

You turn away from him, fingers pressing into the side of your temple.  

Pretty sure that one’s actually on you.  

“It’s ok if you did,” he tells you.  “I’m not trying to rush you.    

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean.”  You manage to soften your tone, keeping it neutral.  You’re not actually pissed at him.

Dr. Dean’s miracle cure…

You push even harder into the side of your head, willing the comments to stop.

“Maybe not,” Dean concedes.  “But I know you, and something definitely isn’t right.”  

… think it can only be taken orally?

You want to laugh, cry, and shriek all at the same time, and you clench your jaw down painfully tight.  Maybe, just maybe, if you’re lucky you’ll find a way to break it and remove the possibility of saying anything ever again.  

There’s a very large part of you that isn’t impressed with that course of action.  

The ride back to Kansas is long, with nothing but the occasional roar of the engine to fill the the car.

You wish it could be as silent inside your head.

***

You can’t keep doing this.  

Sam and Dean are worried.  Really worried.  They’ve taken you off active hunting, relegating you to the bunker.  You’re not allowed to wield anything other than a lore book and a spatula, and it’s driving you as insane as they think you are.  

You need to tell them, before they resort to locking you in your room, or worse, trying to exorcise you in the dungeon.  

That’s a little dramatic, even for them the part of you that’s currently more rational chimes in.  

So is putting you on lockdown for talking to yourself.  

To be fair, you do sound a feather short of a wand.  

You groan, all but ready to commit yourself.  You knew that Harry Potter marathon had been a terrible idea, and for the last three days it’s been nonstop puns and references.  

Then again, it’s certainly better than that entire month of dad jokes.

“It’s not just being stuck here,” you insist to your empty room, and it’s more than having your closest friends question your mental state.  There are things you miss just as much as the actual reason you seem like you’re unravelling, so much so you might really be losing touch with reality.

Quit being a drama queen.  That’s my job.

For once, you can’t argue.

You roll off your mattress, moving toward the large bureau across the room.  It’s early, at least it is for you, but without much else to do, bed might not be such a bad thing.  You open your drawers, searching for one of Sam or Dean’s old T-shirts you’d commandeered, when you feel a prickle of hesitation run down your spine.  

Is it really so terrible having me in here?  

Your eyes glance up to the mirror in front of you, a little taken aback.  

You thought Gabriel would know the answer by now.  

Some days the answer is a hell freaking yes, but others, like now, when the alternative makes your chest tighten and your lungs turn to stone, you can see past your need for space and privacy.

“Nah,” you tell him, smiling briefly at your reflection before returning to your task.  “You’re not so bad.  I just, y’know, miss having time to myself.”

Soon, sweetheart, that familiar timbre rumbles soothingly through the back of your mind. As soon as Ro figures out how to rebuild my vessel, I’ll be out of your hair.  Or out from beneath it, as the case may be.

The thought lessens the tangled snarl of frustration stuck somewhere between your chest and stomach, and there’s a mutual sense of relief as your shared tension begins to unwind.  

You know, it’s no picnic on my end, either.  

“Yeah.  Must be a real travesty being alive with someone who doesn’t mind sharing,” you drawl.  

Apparently, possession didn’t have to be an all or nothing relationship, but angels and demons often went that route because it was the easiest.  

Given how crazy you seem and feel, you can see why

I’m beginning to think the whole look but don’t touch mode isn’t much better he laments.

Is he for real?

Six months.  Six angel damned months of nothing, save those two wrecks of a night with Sam and Dean.  You had no idea how dependent you’d become on using physical pleasure to let off steam until your extra passenger hopped on board.  

Dear God did you just need to put something between your legs.  A hand.  Fingers.  Something battery operated.  Sam.  Dean.  Any one of those. All of the above.  

Easy there, ya little hot tamale.  Just because I don’t have eyes, doesn’t mean I can’t make imagery out of all the brain cells firing in this noodle of yours.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, doing your best to clear your mind before you both end up in any more situations that break the awkward scale.  

You finally find something to sleep in, and muscle memory has you undoing the front of your pants without even thinking.  Before they’ve hit the floor, Gabriel’s faded into the background, giving you privacy to change.  

By the time he reemerges, you’ve already buried yourself beneath the sheets, well on your way to falling asleep.  

You know, there’s just one thing I’m looking forward to more than being back in my own vessel.

“I’ll bite,” you murmur, sensing there’s a punchline coming.  “What’s that?”

Getting to see the look on Thing One and Two’s faces when they find out I got inside you before either of them.

You’re not sure if it’s really that amusing, or if some of Gabriel’s sentiments are trickling into yours, but your laugh is one of the few genuine sounds of mirth to make an appearance since you’ve been placed under house arrest.

“You and me both, feathers,” you snicker, settling further into your pillow.  

I also can’t wait to see the look on their faces when I thank you properly.  

The thought skitters across your awareness, but you’re no longer awake enough to receive it.  You just know that something’s there.  

“Hmmm?”  

Nothing, sweetheart.  Gabriel’s presence fills you completely, wrapping you snugly from head to toe better than any blanket ever could.  Get some rest.  

It’s hard not to with him there.  You’ve never felt so safe and warm, and as you drift away, you almost don’t want to think about what it will be like when it comes time for him to leave.  

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[mariemarvelbear]

Who’s there

Avengers x Reader

Warning: Angst.So much Angst.Slow burn angst.Abuse.Mention of rape.Brainwashed.ANGST.Blood.Torture.Swearing.Kidnapping.

Part 26

The gates creaked open and the team marched into the fort. Fear and dread coursed through every knight’s veins, swarming like ants, dressed in blood-red scarlet. The team caught everyone off guard, the cavaliers not even prepared to offer a good fight against Earth’s mightiest heroes. No one was even sweating as they kill anyone trying to block their path towards the very end of the tower.  Steve groaned, throwing his shield as it knocked off a handful of armies, Natasha somersaulting a knight that attacked her-Wanda and Pietro killing silently as the witch used her magic, her twin catching anyone off guard.  Everyone was doing their tasks effortlessly; chuckling- Thor gazed at the captain and Tony at his far left “This is odd. They’re all…weak.” The mighty God mumbled, easily swinging Mjolnir; rolling his eyes as he saw a bunch of guards on their way to attack him- half of them dead as Bucky and Sam tackled them. Thor quickly regretted his statement, From the shadows of the mere guards a while ago, comes a creature along with a noise enough to make all of them look up. They lifted their heads in confusion, needing to ascertain what the hell was making that noise. They saw the thing-the guards becoming kronans-they heard its snapping and its new whining. Peter saw it rearing up, spinning in circles, pounding the dirt and the already previously trampled rapeseed with its foremost legs. Making a shoddy looking crop circle, with various elongated edges.Their  legs snapped outwards no more than an inch, running towards them as all of them jump into a fighting stance. Wanda chuckled, Pietro looking at his sister weirdly- they’re in a fight and- the witch was smiling. But for Wanda, the guards transforming to kronans was a confirmation-that she was right. You’re here, and they’ll finally bring you home.Steve and the others finally catching up with her, and now-they would never give up now that they knew that you were alive and somewhere out there. So, It was right out of the same old playbook - dehumanize, destabilize, antagonize-anyone who’d come to their way.To get you home.

 The scream that rent the air was as good as a siren. Nobody screams like that unless it is terror beyond endurance. It was unmistakably a child and a young one. Every head turned and several sets of legs sprinted in the direction of the cry, until a pair stopped the others. Wanda looked at Tony and Bucky who was on their way towards the direction she’s about to take “What was that?” Bucky muttered, confusion evident on their faces as they chase their breaths away. Fighting kronans wasn’t as easy as they all thought it to be, and as the numbers of the mentioned creatures multiply-Wanda knew the others would be needing these two towards the wing where they think you are detained. “ I don’t know.” Wanda lied, her heart sinking more as her powers worked perfectly-instantly knowing what that scream was-or who was it. “ I’ll check on it.Go, Help the others.”  She sprinted away from the team, not giving the pair any more looks as Tony looked at her weird. Pietro quickly followed her, it was a millisecond just before he was already in front of her “You feel something?” He knew her too well, and he knew that the way she was sprinting and panting-it had to be urgent, enough to pull her out of her trance on getting towards you. The real mission. Wanda gulped, looked away at her brother as they both fought the guards that was stopping them. Oh, how badly she wanted to be wrong. “What is it?Wanda?You’ve got to answer me sis.”

 Wanda was about to answer Pietro was gone, he was behind her holding a pillar that was about to fall off just right to her head. “How can you not feel that?!” He yelled, angry as to why she didn’t even feel the force nor the sound it made. “What’s going on Wanda?”

 “They need you there ‘silver.” Their heads turn, seeing the other red-head; her eyes direct to Wanda’s ones. “We’ve got this.” Pietro was about to oppose when Wanda told him to go, Pietro didn’t understand. But he knows his girls knows what their doing. Quickly, the three went on their ways. As the two woman sprint towards the end of the hall, the primal yelps of need getting louder.

 “Mama!I want to see my Mama!”

 “Is it-“ Natasha gasped, her eyes wide as both of them opened the doors- “Eviana?”

“It’s not.” Wanda mumbled, her eyes filled with tears as she dare star at the blue doe one’s looking at her- “It’s her child.”

 The acrid smell of stale gunpowder envelops in Steve’s nasal cavities. The war has grudged on for five years now. And their sanity was on the verge of extinction. Looking around, all they can see are stray limbs and dead creatures - once fine young men, women and kronans, who now are no longer recognizable as human. Then the gunfire starts, yet again. The fight continues, as all of them were on their own assigned wing. Him, Tony, Thor, Clint and Bruce took the North, As the others took the South, East and West wing.

Tony panted, he may have looked calm on the exterior, but he was locked in his own mind, his own anxiety and worries were paralyzing him.  The visions of losing you the first time kept playing like a recording stuck on replay; he could hear the screams as if he were in that moment again right now. How could he possibly survive that loss again? Losing you once, one of the people he loved the most in the world was traumatic enough- but if he ever knows that this day would end and they wouldn’t be on the winning end -yet again, he knows it would destroy him.

 “Isn’t this a delight?” A loud eerie voice stunned the men, fighting their way towards the end of the hall. No one ever expected to hear him ever talk again, that this was the end of their mission; of finding you, as Korvac stood tall in front all of them-behind his team of growling creatures. “I can’t help but feel disappointed Captain,” He smirked, irking everyone as Steve took a stance in the middle-ready to battle, more than ever. “It took you and your team five years to find her. Made yourselves fool for one of my tricks!Ha!” He laughed, Tony growling at the sound of his chuckles lingering with pride and mischievousness, remembering Mystique and how they were all fools to fall to his trap,letting you down even more.

“You son of a bitch.” Clint was the first one to answer, anger boiling up in him just like the rest of his teammates.

“Oh,I thought your captain didn’t like that kind of talk?” Korvac jested, his eyes all knowing as if to say that he indeed was watching them for a long time before taking you in captivity.  

“It’s you.” Tony threatened, “We can say whatever the fuck we do.” Korvac loved what he was seeing. The men in front of him was evidently heartbroken, shattered really, robbed of anything that is necessary to put their souls back together.And it was because of him, He won and the Avengers lost.

“Finish them.” Korvac exclaimed, his eyes wide as his minions of kronans growled their way towards the already in-fight Avengers men. “Make sure no one enters the Queen’s quarters.”

The sounds of gunfire and explosions filled the hall along with their comms, As Tony tried and summon any of the team, “Hello?Anyone?!We found Korvac!”   Steve grabbed Tony’s arm as a group of kronans was about to ambush them from behind, the billionaire looked at the Captain with wide eyes-panting as both of them started fighting again,killing the creatures with no remorse.

Steve and Tony ran towards the end of the hall as fast as their legs would allow. Their eyes locking to Korvac’s golden ones, instantly-Korvac was floating as Tony tried to charge towards him with his repulsor beam. “You’re a coward!” Tony grunted.

“You call me a coward?!I did everything I wanted. I planned it perfectly, and I got what I want- and all of you fell into my trap. You were all suffering and devastated enough to not know that the girl in front of you wasn’t the girl your looking for!You’re all idiots, fools!” Korvac spat, proud of his actions as he charge his power towards the two, completely missing them but enough to separate and distance them from him. “And Eviana,”

“She was perfect.So perfect.” He mumbled, his eyes going back to it’s human colors as he daydreamed about you. “ So innocent of everything. And no one of you dare to teach her how to be a proper woman!She was a masterpiece waiting to be noticed-And then I saw her, in the news back at Midgard.She was a goddess, But then- years later, I saw her with the god of thunder and his brother-walking in the garden back at Asgard,and the stories pale in comparison to her beauty when looked upon with my own eyes.”

Every word stung, only fueling the fire that burned inside of Steve and Tony as they listen to what Korvac did to her, on what he meant on “teaching her to be a proper woman.”.  You can see it first in Tony’s eyes, then a tension of his muscles, an inability to think clearly soon followed. His rationality was long gone and offline and the primitive Tony who reverted to his old habits was in the room-and suddenly his liberal opinions were gone, his ability for nuance and emotional generosity were gone too-just like with Steve, as.every phrase violated him and was like gasoline to the anger boiling in his heart, his fists began to clench as his jaw rooted. “What did you do to her!” Steve couldn’t take it anymore, He felt the tears brimming his eyes as he forcefully threw his shield towards the deity’s head-knocking him out. There was stillness on both sides. If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet. Then suddenly movement, so much force in every blow. Tony and Steve rained blows onto Korvac’s as if they meant to smash him into the very earth and Korvac did the same.Thor swung Mjolnir perfectly toward’s Korvac’s head.Tony was quick to follow as he let his repulsor beamed with its highest force of power directly hitting Korvac, as Thor followed their lead as he let his surge of power combine with Tony’s. Bruce’s eyes widen as he witnessed a different set of beam merge and blend with Tony’s and Thor’s-Vision’s. Each didn't just want the other dead, they wanted him smashed, obliterated, nothing left to bury.

Clint,Bruce and Pietro backed down as the felt the heat of the trio’s power, all of them knew that it would be impossible for him to bear that and still be alive-or even be conscious.

Pietro was quick enough to notice that no one was guarding the room at the end of the hall, it’s golden gate made his and Clint’s heart beat faster. It was the only door different to all of the other’s rooms, and it only had to mean one thing. “It’s the King and Queen’s quarters.” Bruce mumbled, his throat dry as all of them hear shuffling and sniffing at the other side of the door.

 “Who’s there?”

[writingreactsandwords]

I hope you're in the mood for Angst! How would the DA:O crew (romanced and non romanced versions) react to a mage warden made tranquil against their will?

Sorry this is very late! And sorry it’s vague about when/where/why this is happening, and generally just… Isn’t what I planned? I don’t know! Sorry! Hope you enjoy! I left out the other guys because I was just going to write way too much.

Alistair:

When he looks at them, he’s reminded of Ostagar. When he first met them, just a new recruit that seemed… Different. Duncan knew it too, he thinks. When they stood, strong and resolute among the corpses of Daveth and Jory.

When they fought, so determined.

And then Alistair himself, watching them emerge from Flemeth’s hut, injured but still stood tall. Ready to take Alistair’s grief and burden him with none of their own. They lead them all. They were the Warden.

But now they… Stand there. Impassive. Serene. That weak, unfeeling smile laying on their face. Their defences stolen.

They’re nothing, now, he knows. There’s nothing there at all.

His voice cracks, shakes when they speak to them. Afraid of their replies; afraid of the lack of them. Afraid of them, in a way. Afraid of what it means, that he’s to take their mantle, that he can’t fill the shoes they left.

He’s holding himself together frantically, but pieces still fall out.

Alistair (romanced):

He was going to be in love with her forever, he knew. Even now, he still is. He had some weird idea in his head before she- before. That love disappears when the other one is dead, since… What’s the point of love, if you’re not sharing it?

Or maybe that if she died, he would die right there with her.

But she’s as good as gone- he knows that’s what everyone thinks. He can see it in their eyes. See the pity. You should let her go, Alistair. She’s… Not there anymore. It would be a mercy.

Maybe he’s a fool because he can’t. Because he still adores her, still believes she’s there- somewhere. Somewhere. He has to.

He looks at her, sat eating the charred rabbit he cooked without complaint. Even that breaks his heart a little more, the frail thing more cracks than anything now. She’d be laughing with him, teasing him for his horrendous cooking skills.

She’d kiss him and it’d taste like the rabbit and they’d make faces at each other.

She’d love him.

She’d make the air in the room disappear every time she laughed, she’d hold him and touch him and she’d do it because she wanted to, not because- not because he asked, on one of those nights when he was weak and he doesn’t know what to do and he’d either spend another night breaking under it all or spend it holding her.

She’s gone.

It feels like one of those nights.

Zevran (romanced):

The Warden had changed Zevran’s entire life.

A hand to pull him out of the festering pit that was the Crows. A pair of gloves, a set of boots, childhood fantasies long since discarded brought back. A friend. A family, in its way.

Love. So much love.

He should have expected it would end.

He was not a man who got good things, he knew. He did not deserve the Warden. Still, this seems especially cruel, he pondered. To punish them. To make him see it. To make him end it. To give him their shell. To give him no hope.

They were the most alive person he had ever met. Constantly feeling, practically burning with it, a bonfire in a world of embers. Took him gladly when he was a moment from fading away. He looks at the ashes left of them.

He used to love when they slept, how serene, how calm they looked. Now, he would gladly slit his own throat to see anything else. To see them laugh, smile. To see them cry, scream.

His fingers brush hesitantly over their cheek. His hands were not… Good, by most people’s standards. They had held too many knives, covered in too much blood, crushed too many lives. The Warden had loved them, though, and he had learned to too.

He could learn to pride himself on anything that brought the Warden happiness, pleasure, held them at night and brushed away tears. It is fitting, then, that they do this last thing for my love.

He holds them to his chest when he buries the knife into the back of their neck. He has broken into halves, and one of them is with his amor.

Zevran:

He’s silent when he finds out.

He is silent for a long time after. 

Zevran admired the Warden, before. Their goodness, their understanding, their ability to keep going when most would have fallen. All of it is gone. He appreciated their skill in battle, their ability to wield magic and staff like an extension of themselves. That is gone too.

His friend is gone.

He had thought once about how cold he had been when he was a Crow. How he made himself be cold, smothered any embers of warmth, lived in a grey world. How had I… lived, like that? He had wondered, watching the Warden and the others through the fire.

Why had I lived like that?

He remembered, now, looking into those dead glassy eyes that still moved, still saw, but never felt. Because it kept him safe. Because he couldn’t be hurt. Because it made love, death, life, everything seem like a joke from behind a barrier.

Now it hurts. It is like some cruel pain, tearing him apart but not letting him die or heal. Filling him with rage but giving him nothing to release it upon. They’re all dead already, of course- the ones who broke the Warden. He could not… Stand to be around them, and revenge was a pleasant occupier of his time.

He did not go back. He will not go back. 

He will rebuild his walls and he will never hurt like that again.

Morrigan:

She feels, absently, like her lungs and heart have been filled with the cold sludge of the Korcari swamps. It works its way around her body, beats through her veins. Even those tears that came unbidden and unwanted were stained muddy from the pigment around her eyes.

My friend.

How many times she had used those words, looked into their living eyes and said it after a friendly moment, a small joke, or simply to say it? She had marvelled at it- the concept of friendship, the concept of one belonging to her. Yet now, it felt to her she had not said it enough.

Those thoughts always broke the cold; they brought anger instead.

The rage at that Chantry mark, red and raised on their forehead. Branded like cattle. Rage that it settled down, flat and white. Rage that their magic, their basic inherent right from birth was stolen by a group of sanctimonious monsters doing the work of a god as abhorrent as them.

One day, she promises herself, she will gut the bastards that touched her friend.

One day, she does.

Morrigan (romanced):

“Are you distressed?”

Am I distressed?

She almost laughs at it. She almost cries. She almost screams.

She has done a lot of all three lately, it seems. He has always brought out the strangest of her, the parts she doesn’t understand. The ones she didn’t know were there before he touched them and brought them to life. Brought life to everything.

And now he is… a living death.

Morrigan turns back to her books, her papers. A cure for tranquillity. A cure when you don’t know the root- it’s… Difficult. Impossible, perhaps. She will not hide in pretty lies. She looks at him and-

“Does my presence upset you?”

Her hands slam down on the table. She is so angry, all the time now. Angry at injustice. Angry at him. Angry that she lets his hair grow out over the brand. Angry she asks him to hold her at night. Angry that nothing she tries is right. Angry that he’s not right. Angry, angry, angry.

Angry she hides in pretty lies.

I should kill him. It would be a mercy.

Her golden, burning eyes glance down to where her ink has spilt like some creature’s black blood around her hands.

“Do you wish me to leave?”

“No,” she whispers.

Leliana:

“Do you… remember before?” Leliana asks. The wound isn’t there, but she is still bleeding. Her heart has been torn from her chest and crushed and then placed back in, expected in its sickly broken form to keep beating.

She feels as though her body has given up. Her veins carry something cold.

She is cuts their hair because someone has to do it. The Warden can’t reach to the back, and she takes comfort in the pattern of the work.

“Before the rite? Yes, I recall most things, although many are confusing to me. I had an… Attachment to you,” they say, their voice analytical.”We were friends.”

She shuts her eyes, releases a shaking breath. She wants to bury her head into their shoulder, hug them tight and pretend, drag them back to their body. This isn’t you, come back. Come back. Please. I can’t, my friend, please- please.

“Does this upset you?”

Leliana opens her eyes, ignores them, combs through another strand, snips it and lets the dead clump fall to the ground. She did so love their hair. If, sometimes, she does press her nose into it and breathe and pretend, no one mentions it.

Leliana (romance):

She was supposed to wake up to them every morning. Sleep beside them. Hold them, be held, to share love and comfort and stories. To feel.

One day, she had planned to die with them at her side.

Death beyond death, she thinks, and it aches in her mind. Everything aches.

“Why…” She looks at them, clears her throat, ignores the hot tears spilling down her cheeks like a waterfall. Perhaps if enough came, she would be able to cross to them, bring them back. Like Alindra… Yet no longer does Alindra and her Soldier feel romantic. How could she have possibly thought… Enduring love? A bitter part of her mocks the naivete.

Enduring agony, perhaps.

“I should have been with you,” she says, feeling as though she is confessing some great sin. Their face is smooth, blank, serene.

“That was an impossibility,” the Warden says. Their voice is dead. Their emotions are dead. It would be kinder if they were. “You should not concern yourself. I am content.”

It would be kinder if she was dead herself, she thinks and feels a part of her stain and break.

[rollercoasterwrite]

Happy Birthday

Drabble written for Jjong’s Month 

In this dizzying world the reason I breathe it’s you~

Pairing : Jongyu

Genre : Angst; fluff

Word count : A little over 1k

'' Happy birthday... '' Jonghyun reads out loud with a sigh. He throws the nicely decorated card on the floor and picks up another one.  '' Happy birthday... I wish you all the- '' The rest of the message is ignored with another flick of the wrist.  Jonghyun picks up another card and another and another until the pile they had formed on the table was now a mess on the floor. He sighs to himself, again, depressed and unimpressed by all those 'nice' gestures.  His hand reaches for the espresso he had taken the time to make himself right before settling in front of the wooden table. His fingers tap against the porcelain as if it was a keyboard, following the quiet and comforting rhythm of the rain tapping against his window.  '' Happy birthday '' Jonghyun tells himself, the words breaking once again the silence in the room. The corner of his mouth raises into a crooked smile, a broken smile. He knows he should be happy; everyone is happy on their birthday. But he is not everyone. He's the odd one. The one who cries too much, who has weird conceptions of this world and who prefers to be alone most of the time. He is the one no one would suspect has so much pain trapped into the body he has always found too petite, too delicate. He doesn't hate himself, he just doesn't feel like he belongs to this world. A world so dizzying it makes his mind spin at night and his heart feel heavy during the day. Day and night, he feels weird, awkward and his birthday is just the landmark reminding him he has to endure these feelings for yet another year. The only silver lining he sees in the dark skies shading his soul is that is he has made it so far.  '’ I'm still here ‘' he congratulates himself silently, the smile he still has going on feeling a little more genuine. He enjoys his silence and his espresso letting everything fall to the sidewalks of his mind. He only leaves one thing walk down the route of his consciousness. The thought has him dealing with this always weird cocktail of warmth and dread.  Jonghyun feels himself get tense and nervous but most of all excited. He doesn't want to call what he is feeling happiness to prevent himself from ruining it. Instead, he just keeps acknowledging that he is lucky enough to have been granted this endless blessing, to have been given another soul with whom to share his life with. He looks at the clock on the wall facing him. '’Soon'’, he realizes. This only has his previous sorrow dilute into a surging pool of anticipation. He taps on his now empty cup, his sharp teeth diligently working his bottom lip. He gets more and more nervous with each passing second, with each passing minute. He knows his feelings haven't changed, but part of him is scared the other's have. Their last encounter had been marred with a bittersweet feeling. A feeling that came from the knowledge that they weren't going to see each other for weeks. Jonghyun had cried and had been held and comforted, but the feeling of loss he had felt after the other's departure hadn't been any less painful. Thus, in this moment, Jonghyun can't help but wonder if their reunion is going to live up to his expectations. He is left to wonder if he has dreamed all of it... His heart jumps in his throat as the doorbell rings. He gets up, not minding the mess he has left on the floor. He is almost skipping to the front door, the sudden spark of joy inside him trumping any doubt he has had. He opens the door and squints. He has been bathing so long in the dark that the sudden brightness that exudes from the other is almost too much. Before he can even utter a word, he is embraced by the warmth of the sun; by his sun. A happy sigh leaves his lips as strong arms wrap themselves tightly around his tiny waist. He hugs back, arms settling higher, comfortably around his lover's neck. '' Happy birthday '' Jinki says softly against his ear. A shiver runs down Jonghyun's spine as he is reminded of the hot buttery voice of his boyfriend. Of all the presents he has received, his voice is the only thing he needs. He is the first to pull back from the embrace, wanting to lay eyes on the beautiful light that is Jinki. He only gets a clear view for a second before he is left blind with tears. One of his hands grasps desperately at the front of Jinki's jacket as painful sobs leave him. '' What's wrong, baby? '' Jinki asks, panicked. His arms have already found their way back around Jonghyun's small frame, unconsciously rocking them back and forth in a soothing manner. '' Nothing... '' Jonghyun croaks out between sobs. '' It's just... '' He takes in a sharp breath. '' Thank you. '' The words hit Jinki's ears but he is not sure he understands.  '' What? Why? '' Jonghyun manages to even out his breathing with a few deep breaths. He is still holding on to Jinki as he puts his thoughts into words. '' It's just... you. You make me so happy. I'm so happy you're here, '' he explains against the taller one's chest. '' Jjongie...'' Jinki holds him even tighter, if that's even possible. '' I should be the one thanking you for being born on this day. For coming into my life. '' The words are soft and sincere, a balm to Jonghyun's doubts and fears. Jonghyun looks up, eyes still watery. '' I love you. '' Jinki smiles his widest smile. '' I love you too, Jjong. ''  Jonghyun pulls him in for a kiss, sighing as Jinki instantly claims his mouth hungrily.  '' Bed... '' Jonghyun mumbles before Jinki kisses him again. Jinki nods into the kiss, taking his time to enjoy the sweetness of Jonghyun's mouth, before he pulls back slightly. Their eyes lock and Jonghyun feels like his heart is about to explode. He feels so happy, no not happy, blessed, lucky. He takes Jinki's hand in his and drags him towards his room. On their way, Jinki notices the pile of cards on the floor, but doesn't say a word. He knows how Jonghyun feels about this particular day so if anything that kind of behaviour is to be expected. He is glad Jonghyun isn't looking at him right now or he would see the sadness in his eyes. He just wants Jonghyun to be happy. '' I will make it better, baby, '' he silently promises himself as he is pushed down onto his mattress. He flashes his brightest smile again, erasing any other emotion from his face. '' Happy birthday, baby. '' His words come with a soft caress on the other's cheek, leaving Jonghyun a little flushed when he brings his hand down.  Jonghyun feels so loved, so safe, he can't help but smile. '' Thank you. ''