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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

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Welcome To The Darkside: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 1 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series

A/N: I just posted a story I know but I’m in love with this idea right now and this is my favourite fic right now. It’s going to be a three or four part fic I think and your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Here is a piece of my heart right here.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, sort of Blood Kink I think, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 1 : Welcome to The Darkside

The gunshots around you frightened you more than anything in your life ever had. The merry, joyful ambience of the carnival was ruined in an instant. Screams around you provoked your panic-stricken form to gather your wits and run or hide. It wasn’t just you caught up in this dreadful situation, there was also someone you’d protect at any cost.

Picking your daughter up and setting her on your hip, you looked around for the way out. Who would have thought that open grounds were hard to get out of? Another wave of terror ran through you when the gunshots audibly neared and the crowd ran in random directions.

You decided to go along the way you recognised the games and shops at. You ran as fast as you could, checking on Grace in between to find her looking curiously all around but still more intent on eating her cotton candy than inspecting. You couldn’t be more thankful for kids' oblivion than at that moment in time.

A bomb explosion up ahead in your path made you halt in your tracks because you knew some of the attackers were scouting there. Turning back wasn’t an option, neither was crying and you were sure you closer to the exit this way. Another blast behind you took away the option of you retracing your path. You weren’t considering it but it gave you little comfort to have your options open.

As the shrieks and screeches grew tenfold, your best bet was to hide, the assaulters had already surrounded the field, the chaos around you informed you. Jumping through innumerable dead bodies, of kids and adults that ached your heart, and dodging bullets while laying low, you went inside a photo booth to hide.

This will not be in vain; you’d protect Grace no matter what.

The curtain to the photo booth provided cover from predatory eyes while the rest of the metal booth was quite safe against bullets you concluded hopefully.

You were just looking for a weapon to prepare for any adversity that might come your way, when the sound of crunching of pebbles made their way to your ears.

Failing to find a weapon in few seconds you opted to attack the intruder yourself when a voice reached your ears, “Mama?”

You puzzled your eyebrows and lowered your defences by just a bit when a toddler stumbled inside the booth, blonde haired and blue eyed. You were definitely not this girl’s mama but you grabbed the kid’s forearm and pulled her inside, shushing her gently and seating her beside Grace on the sitting bench inside. You were thankful Grace entertained her by offering her the pink cloud of sweetness.

You peeked outside but failed to find anyone else in 20 metre radii of you, nobody resembling the wandering kid nor looking for one. You did not know what you would do with another kid in your hands in this dire situation nor was it a wise decision to bring her inside and take her under your wing but you did not have it in you to leave an unsuspecting child, a mere four or three-year-old at that, during a calamity so extreme.

Your maternal instincts governed your thought process, imagining Grace to be in her shoes, all alone and discarded while a possible terrorist attack was happening. The kids’ corpses lying outside gave you no doubt that these children’s fate would be the same if found by the attackers.

A small tug in your dress made you look back and you found the azure eyed kid at your feet, offering you the street food you bought earlier while hugging your leg and observing you. Grace munched in the back silently, still happily eating and unaware.

You kneeled and whispered, “What’s your name, honey?” Maybe the girl understood the urgency, maybe she was just mimicking you but even she murmured in a low voice, “Sarah.”

You nodded, “Sweetie, I need you to sit there quietly and make no sounds, okay? We are playing a staying quiet game.” That was a stupid thing to ask of a kid but you hoped, you really, really hoped she would comply.

Her eyes widened in recognition of something as she eagerly asked, still in a hushed mumble, “Like I does for Dada in meekings?”

“Yes, you smart kiddo. Exactly that.” You replied with what you hoped was a convincing smile and ruffled her hair while nudging her towards her former seat. With kids, you knew a little encouragement went a long way to get them to do things. She whispered an ‘okay Mama’ and went about and sat.

You didn’t get to enjoy her obedience as the thud of pebbles crunching met your ears again. Your breath hitched; your intuition told you that this was not another kid confusing you for its parent.

Your eyes found a discarded piece of metal rod from the booth’s wrecked framework. You grabbed and hoped for the best, to save both the kids at your ability’s mercy.

Steve only saw red. The moment the first shot sounded in the air, he knew whom the assailants were, whom they were coming for. Going out tonight was a bad idea, a really reckless one indeed but when his daughter started bawling seeing the carnival’s lights from the car and wanted to get up and close, he couldn’t say no. He really tried to though, he really did.

It hadn’t been even a year since his wife died, but the father-daughter duo was getting by. He knew his wife took his daughter to the carnival and bought her things, toys and teddies, on every birthday of her own. It was a ritual his wife started, spending her birthday with her little offspring during the daylight and going out for a romantic dinner at the end of the day with her dear spouse. If only things could still be that way, could still stay the same.

When his wife turned out to be an elaborate spy all along, he was baffled. His professional side was, dare he say, impressed by the commitment to character but his personal side was beyond disappointed, disheartened in the worst way because his daughter was his most precious asset in this cruel world and that gift was given by such a treacherous person.

She begged and pled for mercy, to let Sarah have her mother and swore on her life that she quit her espionage journey when she actually fell in love but Steve didn’t trust a single syllable out of her filthy, deceiving mouth, not anymore.

He didn’t kill her though, because Sarah was his first priority no matter what. Her assassination was the work of his rival mob, ‘The Vice Kings’ led by the bastard Rumlow. It was an open invitation for war in the city, for them money came first and useless people had to die. They killed two birds with a single stone, git rid of a useless former member and successfully made a statement.

Then began the still happening rivalry between those Vices and his mob, ‘The Avenging Cartel’. The wound from his wife’s assassination was still fresh, he didn’t miss her as much as he had taken the hit to his pride. There had been a peaceful agreement until the brutal maiming of his spouse and now he was working more than ever, barely able to make time for his princess and that was his only regret, missing her childhood.

And now he felt more futile, his palette of emotions ranging from hues of ire to shades of dread. He couldn’t believe his entourage of trained professionals failed to monitor a two-year-old. He had just stepped aside to take a call, leaving her with his latest driver and three bodyguards. How could he be that clueless to not realise the imposters infiltrating his ranks, standing right there and selling away his location?

As soon as the sound of the first firearm shooting reached his ears, he leapt towards his daughter only to find her missing. His little minx thankfully escaped for one of her little adventures and successfully evaded these cheats, whom he shot right in the middle of the eyes when he glanced at the grenades packing in the coats’ undersides.

His moment of gratitude evaporated in mere seconds as he realised that the Vices now surrounded the entire area, their mission being his daughter’s abduction. If they wanted to kill both of them, they would have already, considering Steve’s distraction gave them quite too many openings. They wanted him to surrender, because mobs worked that way; only when one leader signed off his territories did it become the other party’s possession. If they just cut one head, another would grow in its place, a new leader would succeed the predecessor.

He sent emergency signals to both Barnes and Wilson, the only ones he could trust right now, summoning them with back-ups. The screams of the crowd did not ease him at all, piling on his burden and stress as he prayed for the first time ever, that by some miracle he would reach his daughter first in this field and she would safely be in his arms by the end of the night, not become a victim to what his enemies were planning.

He did have a tracker in her pendant but this realisation hit him later than he’d like to admit, the frustration clawing away his wits. The ground was now quite empty, piles of bodies scattered across the field abruptly where people became victims to the grenades, any person who failed to protect themselves, died. As he was pulling his phone out again, his eyes caught sight a flower bead. The same bead he and his daughter used to make a bracelet a month ago. She wore that everywhere, to day-care, while bathing, to birthdays.

The bracelet was obviously broken now but it was almost like a trail that led to his treasure, like in the Hansel and Gretel’s fairy-tale that Sarah loved. He followed with quiet steps, the beads far apart and some resting under the debris but they sure did lead him somewhere, and when he found the even the pendant in his path, he knew he had only the few beads to rely on.

Some thumps and crashes made him alert, his pistol ready, and when he neared carefully to a distorted metal framework of sorts, his eyes widened.

A young woman had a body in front of her lying on the ground. In a pool of scarlet it rested, still and unmoving while her breathing quickened, her eyes shining with tears that she tried too damn hard to confine to her eyes. He knew how hard the first kill always was, but one grows numb with increase in body count.

Brave women were his type and he would have been turned on by her courage, her hands stained red with whatever weapon she attacked with. Her soft facial features and her curves in the dress she wore were a show stopper for sure, and he would’ve been flirting with her if it was not for the brutal severity of the situation, his daughter missing and in possible danger.

His vigilant senses, courtesy of the epinephrin, picked up two things; the butterfly bead that rested in the door of the booth the woman stood at and the creep shadowing her from behind, ready to attack with a baseball bat he might have found in one of the other game shops.

Steve used his position behind the neighbouring booth to make a bull’s eye shot, the bullet going just an inch above the female’s shoulder and going across the creep’s head. The logo on the corpse’s leather jacket showed Steve he picked the right side to defend.

The sheer suddenness of the move caught the woman off guard as she dropped her weapon and twisted back to find the soulless eyes of her possible attacker staring at her. She quickly armed herself with her attacking rod once again and tried to trace the bullet back from its shooter, her eyes wide and calculating.

Steve decided it was time to interrogate, to find Sarah.

The graze of the bullet above your shoulder alarmed you and you stood dumbfounded only for an instant though. You were sure the bullet was meant for you but the thud of a body behind you, seemingly preparing to attack you proved you wrong.

Calming yourself, you still stood on the ball, because someone killing your attacker didn’t necessarily mean you were safe. With just a pull of the trigger, your fate could very easily be the same. You had to play this smart.

“Lower your weapon. I won’t repeat myself.” A husky voice called out, laced with seriousness which left no room for argument.

You did as he said, knowing that shabby rod was no match against the gun. He stepped out from his hiding position and gave away his location, steps slightly treading towards you. Your hands trembled, heart thumping a bit too loud while blood and sweat coated your frame.

When moonlight lightened his face, you saw his blonde luscious locks, slightly overgrown, a neatly trimmed beard darker than his hair and the cerulean blue eyes that were clear as crystal but shadowed with proficiency.

“Good, now did you see a kid around here? Blonde and blue eyes?”

His question didn’t surprise you, the gun barrel trained on you did. The previous man you had killed, that laid dead ahead of you had asked the same question. You did not know why they were after the toddler nor did you have the time to dwell on it. Time was of the essence now and he was expecting an answer.

The fact that he saved an unsuspecting lady was a plus point, but you also had to consider that he was threatening you all the same. But if that was his kid, it was understood, the resemblance between them was uncanny but that wasn’t enough proof. However, as your flickered to the man you killed, you noticed the logo on his jacket was the same as the one on your possible murderer’s jacket. It still wasn’t enough evidence but you had no choice, the man had a gun and you had two kids relying on you. At least he wasn’t on the bombing side.

“Yes, what is she to you?” You tried to be brave but you were sure he saw right through you.

“You don’t ask the questions here but this one I’ll answer. She is my daughter. Now, where is she?”

“How do I know you’re not lying? I can’t just and her over to you!”

“Her name is Sarah; she is my carbon copy. She is wearing a pink dress with white flowers; pink crocs and her hair is in a ponytail with a white scrunchy. She had two white clips in her hair beside the ponytail. Enough proof?”

No, you could be a creepy paedophile for all I know.

You were still contemplating when he spoke again, “She’s my daughter and I know she’s in that booth beside you. I appreciate you trying to protect her I think but she’ll respond to me calling her. Sarah?”

The little toddler poked her head out, her eyes brightening in recognition and you heaved a sigh of relief involuntarily. Your maternal instinct made you anxious for kids you barely even knew. She ran towards her father shouting ‘Dada’ and jumped into his arms while he hid his gun. You almost snorted at that, tons of dead bodies surrounding you and he was worried about the gun?

He propped her up, hugging her tightly, and with what you knew now, he was scared to death and rightfully so.

Grace poked her head out and ran towards you now, hugging you from behind your legs and silently peeking at the mysterious human. You held Grace’s hand now, intertwining your fingers and felt relief after long. Even though there was no knowing that the man would help you two but you gave yourself comfort you weren’t alone here, not anymore.

Sarah turned and met your eyes again and whispered lowly, “Oops Mama, I think the games over! Sowwy!”

Steve’s eyes widened at that and you laughed at her innocence, feeling light. You played along with the kid, “It’s alright.” You didn’t want to play ‘Mommy’ anymore after that thinking it would offend her father but even, he chuckled, his laugh beautiful and boisterous.

Suddenly men dressed in black and armed with weapons ran about, skidding and crossing you to survey the area out. You shielded Grace once again but the father ahead of you didn’t even flinch. Noticing your unease, he came closer and put a hand on you arm, “I’m Steve and don’t worry, these are my men, the good guys.”

You nodded, not agreeing with his idea of good and bad but since you hoped he did acknowledge that he owed you one, you hoped none of these men would attack you. You introduced yourself and he nodded.

With Sarah on his hip, he started following one of his men and you followed along hoping to get to the exit. He even asked to drop you home but you refused, just wanting to get to the parking and put all these guns out of your kid’s sight. He tsked over his shoulder and you knew he would insist again later but for now he listened intently to the man he addressed as Buck.

This Buck eyed you several times, not so discreetly, while Steve renounced the whole incident of some spies and whatnot. You closed your eyes, not wanting to eavesdrop and just wanting to relax but you could do neither right now. They were after Sarah; you had presumed right.

Sarah made grabby hands from over Steve’s shoulder while Grace slept soundly in your arms, maybe jealous of her. She pouted and then slowly began her lower lip began to tremble. A whine escaped her mouth as she started bawling. Steve stopped to shush her but she continued screeching, “I miss Mama!” and tried to get away from Steve and jump into your arms. Buck looked surprised while Steve’s eyes pleaded yours and you nodded and gave Grace to her and took Sarah in your arms, gently shushing her and patting her back. She drooled in the crook of your neck but that was nothing new and quietened down. You didn’t want to give Grace away but you couldn’t see another child so miserable, not when you had one of your own.

Steve and ‘Buck’ observed you, not saying anything so you broke the silence. “I’m sorry she confuses me with her mother, I hope she doesn’t get offended by this.”

“She’s no more.” Steve looked down and you cursed yourself for breaking the silence, make the situation more awkward and unbearable.

“I’m sorry.” Well that was better than joking about how Grace didn’t have a father either.

“Don’t be, she deserved what she got.” Steve mumbled and continued walking with ‘Buck’, lightly patting Grace and kissing her forehead.

The peck should have bothered you but you were too engrossed by his words to eavesdrop further or check on Grace. What did he mean she deserved it? You didn’t even want to think of the probability of him killing her. With all the soldiers that surrounded you, you suddenly realised he was capable of more than you thought and you felt stupid for feeling safe with him when you did. He was a leader of sorts, a person with unimaginable power and you had dived headfirst in the kind of things you should avoid at all costs. Even though you hadn't crossed him or weren't on his bad side, getting involved was a mistake.

You learnt this lesson the hard way soon enough.

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clandonnachaidh · 3 years

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Light Across The Seas That Sever (Ch6)

AO3

“Mind ye’ve got that meeting this afternoon?” Ian reminded him for the thousandth time as they all sat at the breakfast table and Jamie fought the urge not to roll his eyes, already mildly annoyed at the fact that his bowl of porridge wasn’t quite right. He should’ve made it himself without backing down when Jenny had insisted on doing it for him, that way it would’ve been thick enough to plaster a wall with, just how he liked it. But his sister would never surrender the spurtle, working it through the oats and milk until they became creamy and setting a large bowl of sugar on the table, much to Jamie’s distaste. Thick enough to clart a wall and with enough salt to make your eyes water, that was exactly how he’d had it since he was a bairn, their mother taking hers in the same way. Only Jenny and their father had preferred that their breakfast be covered in sugar and the sweetness of the Scottish strawberries that grew wild on Lallybroch estate.

“Aye, I ken fine well enough,” Jamie grunted without turning his eyes towards Ian who was trying to encourage a spoonful into Wee Ian’s mouth. “Whit was the name of the estate again?”

“’Tis the only estate in Tomich but did I no’ tell ye? He’s changed the meeting to the golf club.”

It had been his idea to begin with but now Jamie was uncertain about how their drunken plan was taking shape. After one too many whiskies of a night, he and Ian had been sprawled in front of the fire as they chastised the blend that they were imbibing, arrogantly announcing that the two of them could do much better. Jamie hadn’t thought anything of it as he’d stumbled to his bed and let sleep take him but a few days later he found himself mending a fence post in the back field as Ian continued his musing about Broch Mordha putting its stamp on the world as a new destination for a premier whisky distillery and the two of them, its innovative creators.

Jamie grunted as he rose to his feet and deposited his bowl into the deep sink, letting the tap run to soak the dish and refusing to turn his body to take in the picture perfect family scene that was sat at the kitchen table.

“Mr Dunsany—“

“He’s a Lord, is he no’?”

“Is there a reason yer being a particularly crabbit arse this morning, brother?” Jenny’s voice was dripping with irritation, not wanting her nice family breakfast to be ruined by the interminable grey cloud that had been brewing over Jamie’s head for the past few weeks.

“Jen, leave him be.”

“I will not. He’s been a moanin’ greetin’ face since he came back from that bloody reunion and ’tis hell time he snapped out of it,” she said a little louder to ensure that Jamie heard the emphasis that she placed on the insult as it flew from her mouth.

This caused him to turn on his heel and level his sister with a careful eye.

“I’m sorry, Janet, but sometimes I think ye forget that there is a world outside of Lallybroch. Life can be a damn sight more complicated than poppin’ out weans and tending tae chickens, ye ken.”

If her temper didn’t hit the roof, her eyebrows certainly made a good go of it. Silently, her fingers curled tightly around the spoon, stilling herself against the pull of Wee Ian’s chubby little hand that was fisted in the material of her shirt, demanding attention.

“I ken that fine well, James. But ye canna jus’ come home every time ye see her and sulk like a wee bairn that doesna get what he wants. Grow up a wee bit, aye?”

At the end of her parting shot, Jamie felt the anger licking at the sides of his throat. The rage that he’d been directing towards himself was now begging to be let loose on someone else, someone that would bite back and Christ, Jenny would do just that. It had been this way since he’d come home, the frustration melting into a sullenness that had punctured the idyllic bubble that the family lived in at Lallybroch. In his worst thoughts, he resented both his sister and his best friend and the happiness that they shared. Jamie loved them to their bones, of course he did, but after leaving Oxford with yet another memory of how he’d let Claire slip through his fingers, the last thing he wanted to see was the very evident love between Jenny and Ian and their three children.

And so he found himself, in a suit that was a bit tight across his shoulders but he’d purchased anyway in a department store on the Inverness High Street, shaking hands with Lord William Dunsany in the bar of a golf club that he’d never seen fit to frequent himself. Jamie tried his hardest not to let the glances from the club members get to him as they walked around the lounge with an understated belonging the he’d never feel himself. He made sure that he gave a strong handshake, looking the shorter man straight in the eye and made the informed decision to swap from his usual Scots to his best Received Pronunciation, assuming that Lord Dunsany was one of those people who claimed to be a ’Scotchman’ but was as English as they come with the age old story of inheriting Scottish land as a birthright. Jamie had realised, however, that the man certainly knew his whisky and would make a not-half-bad business partner with himself and Ian if he managed to convince him to part with some cash.

Jamie was fuzzy on the details of how’d they’d come to the agreement but two hours and four whiskies later, he found himself once more shaking hands with Dunsany. The Lord would foot the seed money in exchange for a fairly sizeable but not unfair amount of the business and as a personal favour, Jamie would escort his eldest daughter around Edinburgh the following evening.

“She’s up here with me to get away from some nonsense that’s gone on at home but she’s been cooped up in her hotel for days while her mother tries to organise a townhouse for her. I just want her to get out and see the city. Who better to show her around than a native?”

Late next afternoon, his slight hangover thankfully having subsided after a coffee and a square sausage roll, Jamie stepped off of the train and onto the platform of Waverley Station in the heart of Edinburgh.

The tang of the breweries immediately filled his nostrils and he breathed deeply as the ever present sound of bagpipes floated down from the upper level of the street. While Lallybroch where was his heart lived, and he loved the humour and familiarity of Glasgow, Edinburgh held a special place in his heart. He never got tired of grabbing a coffee and walking the length of George Street in the sun, the castle bursting into view if he turned his eyes to the east.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made his way towards the hotel that Dunsany had insisted on to putting him up in, the same one as his daughter just to make things simple. Although Jamie had spent many a morning diving into the spectacular breakfasts put on at one of his favourite places in Edinburgh, The Huxley, he had never imagined staying at The Caledonian that loomed over the small establishment just metres from its door.

Jamie didn’t quite know what to do as the doorman who was wearing a bloody top hat opened the door to the hotel for him so he settled on giving the man a polite smile, resisting an absurd urge to give him some type of formal bow. He had been in nice hotels before but nothing like this with its polished marble floor and a huge vases of fresh cut flowers on most surfaces that he could see.

“Mr Fraser, we have you in the Robert Louis Stevenson Suite for two nights. Here is your room key and it also includes the number for the Concierge, should you have any need. We have a table booked in the Peacock Alley bar for you and Miss Dunsany at 6pm this evening and I would be happy to make any dinner reservations you would like to make, within or outwith the hotel. Michael can get the rest of your bags from the car,” a neat blonde woman smiled at him from the reception desk as she inclined her head to the bellboy hovering at a polite distance over Jamie’s right shoulder.

“It’s nae bother, lass, I’ve only got the one bag,” Jamie muttered with a hint of embarrassment as he pulled the bag from the floor and swiped the keycards from the desk, smiling back at her. “Thank ye.”

When he stepped through the door that bore the name of one of Scotland’s most beloved authors, his growing Imposter Syndrome ramped up a few notches. Crossing the floor towards the window, Jamie was greeted by a beautiful view of the castle as it loomed over the city. He didn’t quite know how to act, having never been in such a large and clearly expensive hotel room. In fact, it wasn’t even a room, the woman at the desk had called it a suite.

Flicking through the TV channels for a little while, settling on the new show about Billy Connolly’s upbringing in Scotland, his fingers lazily scratched at the bare patch of skin just above his belt buckle. Something about being in a different city and having some time to himself made him feel lighter than he had in weeks and he gave himself permission to laugh at a particularly lewd joke that spilled from The Big Yin’s mouth on the TV.

Jamie’s phone, lying face up on the mattress beside his left shoulder, startled him as it gave a firm buzz. Sitting up, he opened the latest message from Geneva, telling him that she wanted to go out for dinner somewhere nice tonight. He was under no illusion as to the fact that when someone like Geneva Dunsany used the words ‘somewhere nice’, she was actually saying ‘somewhere expensive’. But thankfully, Jamie knew just the place and sent her a reply saying that he had it in hand before phoning down to the reception and having the helpful woman book a table at a restaurant he knew would be impressive enough but not so posh that he would feel out of his depth by eating there.

Although they’d messaged back and forth that afternoon, he hadn’t bothered to enlarge the tiny picture next to her name at the top of the screen. Toying with his phone, Jamie resolved that he had to know what the lass looked like, not wanting to have to shuffle embarrassingly around the bar trying to figure out who he was there to meet.

Her picture brought to its full size, he looked at her for the first time and tried was pleasantly surprised. She was clearly beautiful. Dark hair that flowed in loose waves over bare shoulders, her skin a beautiful olive brown from a summer tanning on a beach somewhere. She was looking at the camera dead on with a surety that came from a privileged upbringing, her face painted perfectly and a twist of the lips that couldn’t really be called a smile, as if she didn’t want to be seen to be having fun. She looked like every posh girl that Jamie had met in his life, every girl at university who would air kiss their friends on both cheeks while their manicured hands clutched at bags that cost more than his first car.

Suppressing a groan at the thought of spending a weekend with a person who no doubt came from an entirely separate world than the one he’d grown up in, Jamie divested himself of his socks as he plodded, bare feet on plush carpet, through to the bathroom to take a shower and clean himself up ahead of his evening.

Later, he sat at the bar, his fingers playing with the patterns on the cut crystal glass that housed his double whisky, he felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder.

“James Fraser?”

His stomach dropped into the floor.

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind at what hearing his name fall from the lips of an Englishwoman would do to him. He felt an absurd wave of revulsion swipe through him in an instant and he took a quick drink before turning on his stool to face her, swallowing the bile that had risen up in his throat.

“Och, lass, nobody really calls me James. Ye can call me Mac. ’Tis another one of my family names,” he tried to sound light and not as if the sounds of his name leaving her lips felt like the flesh on his back had been ripped open to the bone.

There was a reluctance in her eyes and he immediately knew that she was uncomfortable so he did his best to send her his most charming smile, gesturing for her to sit and then signalling to the bartender.

“What would ye like tae drink?”

“Martini, if you would, extra dry, extra dirty,” she ordered confidently as the bartender nodded and turned to begin preparing it for her.

With her chin in the air, she asked, “So, my father said you were a business associate?”

“Aye, I suppose I am now. My brother-in-law and myself wish to start our own whisky company. Your father has kindly offered to help.”

“My father isn’t generally in the habit of helping out of kindness.”

“Aye, well, hopefully he trusts that we ken what we’re doing. Or that we’ll figure it out at the very least,” Jamie tried to joke but she gave him nothing. There was something cold in her demeanour that he hoped he wouldn’t have to fight against for the whole evening.

After watching the martini disappear down Geneva’s throat in record time, he offered her an arm as they left the hotel and were hit by the cool air of Edinburgh in the evening. As soon as Jamie took the first step towards Princes Street, Geneva halted.

“We’re walking?”

“’Tis no’ far, only ten minutes or so. We have time before our reservation,” he replied, gently tugging on the arm that she’d looped through his so that she would begin to walk with him. Her feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete.

“These are £500 shoes, I’m not walking anywhere.”

“Lass, Edinburgh is a city tae get lost in. If we get a taxi we’ll just be looking at the sides of buses and traffic lights. Yer father asked me tae show ye the city,” letting her arm slip from his, Jamie took a step forward and gestured towards the castle, atmospherically lit from beneath now that the sun had gone down. He turned back to her with a kind smile and held out his hand. “Let me, aye?”

Reluctantly, she acquiesced and let him lead her away from the hotel. Jamie’s skin tingled at the contact and he realised that he hadn’t touched a woman apart from Jenny since the university reunion with Claire. He flexed his fingers experimentally and felt something swell in the pit of his stomach when Geneva tightened her grip in response.

The two of them made small talk as they walked through Princes Street gardens and up towards the restaurant, Geneva seeming happy enough with the venue that he’d chosen. He’d heard good things about The Witchery before and as they sat down at a table covered in a pristine white cloth, surrounded by painted dark wood on the walls and ceilings, he noticed how pretty Geneva looked in the candlelight. Only a fool would try to argue that she wasn’t beautiful. But there was a coldness to her that hadn’t warmed yet and so he kept on being as charming as he could, hoping that another glass of wine might bring down the steely demeanour that she seemed to hold on to for dear life.

Oxford had been full of girls like Geneva Dunsany. Wealthy, privileged and confident. After four years of university, Jamie had perfected the art of tuning out their inane conversation about which exotic place they’d spent their summer, who’s guestlist they’d been placed on for the weekend and what they were planning on wearing. So he knew how to respond to her constant stream of speech, nodding and agreeing in the right places and sending dazzling smiles across the table when he felt like rolling his eyes. Though somehow, he found that he didn’t actually dislike Geneva Dunsany. Something in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she chose her words, showed Jamie that the poor little rich girl personality was an act. Underneath the mask, she felt the same way that he did—unfathomably sad.

Something inside of him felt sorry for her, recognising the pain that he knew all too well in another. And while he didn’t particularly care for the woman, Jamie decided to be kind to her. He leaned closer across the table and started to respond to her stories with anecdotes of his own. With the help of another two martinis, she began to blossom in his company and the two shared a relatively pleasant evening together.

When they reached the hotel elevator, Jamie had nothing on his mind other than stripping off his constricting shirt and sleeping off the whisky cloud that was hanging somewhere around his temples.

“What’s on the agenda now, then?” Geneva asked as they stood side by side.

“Shower then bed, I think.”

“Sounds good to me,” she all but whispered, Jamie’s head twisting to see the dark look of seduction that was painted on her face. “Mind if I join you?”

He didn’t say no.

It was shocking how easily he slipped into the worst version of himself. There had been a few nights in the past where he’d spent too much time and money in the pub in Broch Mordha and woken up the morning with some woman curled around him at whatever bed and breakfast they’d invited him back to. He only ever slept with women who were in the area for the moment, never anyone who he’d run into again. It was always when he was half gone with drink, his body acting solely on blind need that he succumbed to his baser instincts.

The doors of the elevator opened and Geneva walked in purposefully, turning to look at him with an alluring smile. Jamie walked in beside her and pressed the number for her floor.

They found pleasure in each other’s bodies but it was skin deep at best. A simple matter of scratching an itch that they both clearly had and had resolved to using the other to sate that particular need. There were no delicate touches or gazes held for any real length of time. Jamie set himself to work, making sure that she got hers before followed suit. It was perfunctory. Pleasant. And when they both uttered their subdued sounds of fulfilment, Geneva immediately rolled away from him, shielding herself once more.

“Do ye want me to go?” Jamie’s voice broke through the dark silence of the room.

Her response was barely a whisper, “Please.”

He dressed quickly, roughly, and scrambled around in the dark for his phone that had fallen from his pocket. Geneva was lying as still as a statue but Jamie could hear the odd sniff from her and realised that she had begun to cry. After dithering between his options, his inherent gentlemanliness won out.

“Is there anything I can do?”

There was no response for a few seconds and he took that as his answer, beginning to move towards the door of the room when a single word stopped his hand from turning the doorknob.

“Stay.”

Keeping his eye on her as though she was a frightened animal that might bolt at any provocation, he slowly began to undress. When she moved over slightly to give him room to get under the covers, he did just that and felt a strange sense of kinship as she wrapped her body around his. Jamie held her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep in his arms. The sound of her gentle breathing was the only thing filling the room until his phone suddenly pinged with a notification.

Facebook Congratulate Claire Beauchamp on their engagement!

Before he could stop himself, he opened the app and looked at the posed photograph of the two of them, her left ring finger showing off an almost comically large diamond ring.

After telling our friends and family, we are so happy to announce that we are engaged! We thank everyone so far for their kind words and well wishes. From the future Mr and Mrs Frank Randall.

Every muscle on his body was thrumming with energy. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the energy was made from. Rage? Fear? Utter desolation? Whatever it was, it was coiling its way around his ribs, holding him in stasis and holding him hostage as he experienced it.

He wasn’t even considered a friend anymore, seeing as he hadn’t been given the privilege of a private message, having to find out through fucking Facebook. She had clearly changed in her time in Boston, the Claire he knew would never have given up her name and become Mrs Frank Randall. Randall-Beauchamp at the very least, for Christs sake.

Tasting the rare metallic nature of blood in his mouth, Jamie realised that he was biting the inside of his cheek. He felt the need to get up and do something, anything to expel the energy that was going to burst out of him if he didn’t channel it into something. But he was stilled by the feel of Geneva’s naked body against his and a rush of guilt tried to swallow him whole.

How dare he question Claire’s life, assume to know her situation all the while he was in bed with another woman. Reminding himself for the hundredth time that Claire had made her choice and it wasn’t him, he swallowed his pride and went to send her a message, even though he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

He shouldn’t have had that final whisky.

Jamie: Just seen the news. Congratulations to you and yours.

A blatant lie but what was he supposed to say?

To his surprise, her reply was almost immediate.

Claire: Thank you!

Short and to the point. Two words that would shut down any further conversation, a feigned attempt at excitement and gratitude that he prided himself on being able to see through.

He knew that he would have been one of many to send the same sentiment that day but he had kidded himself that his text would receive a more personalised response. Maybe all she thought of him was a copy and paste response as she planted her phone down screen first on the sofa before climbing into the arms of her future husband.

In an attempt to hold the tears at bay, Jamie curled an arm around Geneva’s prone body, bringing up his hands to his arm and pressing his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.

#light across the seas that severed #clan donnachaidh #ao3 #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #outlander #modern au

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

I thought this would be an interesting twist: After the failed ritual, what if Lucien's s/o ran into Molly? Thank you!

Okay so this one came out quicker than I expected 😅. Little 'twist' at the end because I could not help myself. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

You warned him. You warned him so many times but he wouldn’t bloody listen. Too caught up in his own game for power, never satisfied. But what were you supposed to do? Stop him? No, you’d never. You loved him more than that but you were not prepared to follow him to his own death. Lucien, you idiot how could you? You tried everything but he didn’t come back. The ritual failed. You didn’t want to uphold your part of the bargain. You knew this mage had ulterior motives and after being granted a peak of those pages she wouldn’t back down.

The woman wanted it all for herself and Lucien stood between her and that power the Eyes of Nine had to offer. Knowing the Tombtakers would follow Lucien to the extremes they would also accept the risks of this ritual and would be content but disappointed should it fail. With what you had seen you knew it shouldn’t fail. You had warned Lucien of your suspicions but his own arrogance made him blind to the consequences of this all. He wouldn’t listen and you were becoming an obstacle so when the ritual was to go down you weren’t there.

Lucien has slipped away from your warm embrace in the dead of night to perform the ritual and of course Vess messed with it, assuring he wouldn’t be able to return to his body therefor as per the agreement, she’d take the book as payment. It was too late when you found him, already dead. No amount of healing or revivification could bring him back to you. You had to accept that but you could enact revenge on the bitch that took him away from you. You’ll have her wishing she was the one in a shallow grave instead.

The Tombtakers diverged, finding their own paths. Cree tried to take you with her but you wouldn’t. You had your own task to complete. After that you could rest. Making the arrangements, finding allies where you could, earning and cashing in favours from anyone of power or resources you could left you with quite the arsenal at your disposal but you couldn’t just walk into the capital of the Dwendalian Empire and murder one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly. You had to be patient, lay low and let everyone think you moved on.

Still you visited the grave whenever you could. There was a comfort in the hope that maybe, wherever he was he could hear you. Lucien would probably scold you for going on a revenge path against one of the most powerful magic users on the continent all by your lonesome. He’s one to talk. Nevermind, you told him about your adventures, and hoping to acquire the resources to attempt to bring him back. You won’t give up hope.

Then you returned, returned to find the grave empty. You followed the tracks but they lead you nowhere. You had to find him. You had to find Lucien before anyone else did because what might they do? What state would he be in? Does this mean he’s already ascended? Would this mean he’d truly fully become the Nonagon for once and for all? But most of all, you just want him back in your arms knowing he’d be safe. You’d scour Exandria to find him.

There you are standing in a dark alleyway, hood blocking direct view of your face as you’re quite literally in the middle of a back alley deal. You’re no stranger to the shady business and shady people can most often be found in these places. You pay your contact in exchange for the information your requested, satisfied with the results. You hear commotion on the main street. Guards. Parting from your contact you wait for the guards to pass. That’s when you notice a lavender tiefling bolt past you. A very familiar lavender tiefling.

Confusion, relief, heartache, panic, happiness, disappointment, a wave of emotion hits you in a way you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to feel at this point. Many questions accompany those feelings. What are you supposed to do? Well, go after him of course! If Lucien’s back and he’s being chased by guards, that’s not a good thing for the current situation. Sticking to the shadows you trail along. Lucien may just have lost his touch but perhaps the city is an unfamiliar one to him and alone, he doesn’t know the way. The tattoos are new, so are the rather colourful clothes but you know he never does anything without reason.

You figure out where he’s going, the direction at least and from your own past encounters here you know the side alleys. You take a path that should have you end up ahead of him. You’ll have to take a few rooftops and private yards but it’s the quickest and you’ve done it plenty of times. Once you get in place you take off your cloak, get ready. You hear the guards shouting for reinforcements. The closer he gets from around the corner you can see the smug grin filled with mischief as he runs. You’ve missed that one.

The moment comes and you grab onto him as he passes pulling him into the alley with you, wrapping your cloak around him and pulling the hood up. Hands on both sides of his face you look at him closely. There’s confusion in his eyes as they focus on you. He’s already out of breath but you pull him into a deep kiss. Lucien hits the wall behind him and readjusts the hood of the cloak to keep his face covered. The response to the kiss only comes with the sound of the guards drawing near and is very confused. The guards pass by. They glance into the alley but awkwardly turn back to following the street upon seeing the two of you together.

As soon as they’re gone Mollymauk breaks away from you. He’s breathing heavily more from the run than the kiss you shared. He’s very confused. Indifferent to being kissed by a stranger, this… unexpected to say the least. He’s got no idea who you are but you saved his ass so you’re alright in his books at the moment. That doesn’t mean he’s not wary of you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you know him, or well whoever he used to be and with the conflicting emotions running through you he’ll have to think fast to spin his bullshit correctly.

“You have no idea how happy I am you’re alive. Does this mean it worked after all? Did you succeed?” You run your thumbs over Lucien’s cheekbones as he holds onto your wrists lightly. The pressure in your chest grows heavier as you await his answer.

“It did. I did. It didn’t go as planned but I’m here now.” Molly works his charm like his life depends on it because he entertains the thought it might. Your touch, there’s something eerily familiar about it, akin to being reminded of a distant long forgotten dream. Hazy but it feels real. He still has no idea who you are and there’s no bells ringing either. While he much rather run far away avoiding any and all connections to a past not his, he cannot help but commend whoever came before him. The one that got buried definitely had a good taste in lovers? Friends? Molly’s not going to assume even though you kissed him quite passionately.

Your chest clenches and it feels as if your breath won’t leave your body, your blood stopping in your veins, like you got hit by an extra dimensional force attempting to pull everything away from you. You listen to Lucien’s words. It looks like him but why do you feel like you hear someone else? It’s not an illusion or some trick you’re sure. If it were your enemies would have known to pick a better imposter and you’d have been dead already. Your own mind fights against this train of thought, justifying it. Lucien had been dead for weeks until you found the empty grave. Of course there were bound to be side effects or even consequences to the ritual. But then again, it had been two years since then. Two years to recover from whatever happened…

“You don’t know me, do you?” Speaking the words out loud breaks your heart. You don’t fight the pain they cause. There’s no tears. You’ve already grieved Lucien once. You’re not doing it again. This will be nothing more than a painful reminder, a cruel joke from the gods behind the divine gate. Why must the fates torture you so for nothing more than loving an ambitious man reaching for the stars and beyond?

“No. I’m sorry.” Molly can’t help but feel your pain. It’s clear you cared a great amount about his predecessor, the way you speak reveals intense heartbreak at the passing of that one. It also shows acceptance that whoever he used to be is gone and you’ve come to terms with that a while ago. That’s enough for him to recognise you won’t hurt him. Molly had never felt sorry for the death of who he used to be and he won’t start now but he does feel sorry for you. This whole situation is messed up.

You close your eyes and nod, dropping your hands and take a step back. No matter how much your heart may tell you to be close to this tiefling, your mind knows it’s not Lucien. You cannot in good conscious hang onto whatever remains. It’s not fair you him, to Lucien but most of all not fair to yourself. Do you wish it was Lucien standing here in front of you? Of course you do. You’d do anything to get him back but what would directing all your pain achieve directed at this new person in the same body? It would accomplish nothing but more pain. You can’t imagine this tiefling in front of you doesn’t have any friends, loved ones, people who care about him. You weren’t going to put you don’t know how many others through the same pain you’ve been put through.

“I am as much of a ghost of the past to you as you are to me.” You’ve come to the conclusion that based of his responses there may not be any recognition, there is an unknown familiarity to you on his end. Perhaps the final slivers of Lucien remaining but nothing more than a fleeting memory. A hand reaches out for yours. You allow him to take your hand and he rubs circles in the back of it with his thumb in an attempt to bring you some comfort. It’s a gesture out of kindness. Not out of selfish intent or with the expectancy to get something out of it, like Lucien would when faced with a stranger he clearly had the upper hand over.

“You seem to have cared for my predecessor, Lucien, quite a lot. I truly am sorry.” You offer him a saddened smile as a silent thank you. He knows Lucien’s name so he must have learned something of the past. You gather it hasn’t been much and most definitely is second hand knowledge by his lack of information on the ritual, who he used to be, everything really.

“You know his name?” The sentence is voiced somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“A blood cleric named Cree. She ran into us-me and mistook me for him. I played along but I don’t think she really bought it. She didn’t reveal much.” The name of the tabaxi alone is enough to make your blood boil. If Cree had known for however long, why hadn’t she gotten in contact with you? You know exactly why and are debating wether or not you could do with a new fur rug. You also acknowledge that Cree is a risk and this new-not Lucien will have to watch his back.

“Since you’re not Lucien nor do you seem to be using that name, what do I call you?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf or simply Molly to my friends.” The tiefling-Mollymauk smiles at you, a genuine smile. You have to appreciate the small gestures of comfort and kindness.

“I would give you my own name but for both of our sakes I won’t. You may refer to me as an old friend. I know I have no right to but may I ask you a favour?”

Mollymauk nods. As always he leaves a place better than he found it, tries to bring joy and happiness wherever he can even if that means making a fool of himself. Very few times has he been faced with someone who needs his help as much as you do. While there’s definitely limits to what he can provide, you deserve some compassion. Especially after the shitty cards life had dealt to you. He’ll try to ease that if he can.

“May I- May I ask you to tell me about your life, Mollymauk?” Not the request he expected. Then again, to be fair he didn’t really know what to expect. A kiss maybe? Stick along for a while? Perhaps even a final goodbye so you could close this chapter once and for all? But of all the things you asked about him. Not Lucien. Him.

“It’s a long story…” Molly drifts off reminiscing the wild ride of the past two years, especially the events of the last few months upon joining the Mighty Nein and the adventures they had already gone on; were currently on but if you really wanted to hear all about that, he’d tell you.

“I have plenty of time. How about we walk and talk? Get you back to your traveling companions? Your friends? And if there’s still plenty more to tell, if you want to you can tell me over a few drinks. My treat.” You feel within yourself you’d better be able to let go knowing this Mollymauk is happy and lives content. Lucien might be gone but Mollymauk deserves a good life free of Lucien’s burdens. You’ll do what you can to assure that.

“Never tell a story for free. That sounds like a good deal.” Molly offers you his arm and when you hesitate, expects you not to take it but to his surprise you do. There’s something strangely comforting about the whole ordeal. You’re both strangers to each other but it still feels like you have known each other for years.

On your way to where Mollymauk is staying he feels no need to hold back or deceive and instead tells you what happened to him; how he woke up, dug himself out of a grave and was found by a kind man, joined the circus, became a fortune teller, made friends along the way, found a family, many tales of the mischief he was up to, leaving every place better than he found it. You had some good laughs and were able to ask some questions throughout. All in all you came to the conclusion Mollymauk’s life hasn’t been an easy one but it was a good one and he was happy.

Then he found this group of strangers in a tavern somewhere in Trostenwald. His old family was torn away in the wreckage of a devil toad but he found a new one in these strangers. The Mighty Nein. Their time together has been but a few months but they already feel like family and he’d do anything for them. They might be assholes but they’re good people.

You got to meet them. Molly- as he keeps insisting because you are his friend now, introduced you to this Mighty Nein as he thought it best you heard some of these stories from their mouths too for the sake of perspective. He introduced you to them as such; an old friend from the past. The details were left blurry but Molly’s confidence was enough to leave them at the very least accepting and not mistrusting you. They shared their stories with you. They needed him. They may have come far from the assholes they were, but they still had a ways to go. You knew you could not tear that away from him nor did you feel right to join them, even if temporarily.

It’s time for you to say goodbye. You bid your farewell to the Mighty Nein and while they would ask you to stay just a little longer, you know you cannot. You will not insert yourself into their lives based on the merits of your own lies and life. They are free so let them be free. Molly walks you out so you may have one final conversation before you leave his world behind you.

“You don’t have to go yet. They enjoy your company and honestly, they could learn a thing or two from you.” Molly offers as you stand outside of the tavern, the sky since having grown dark and the stars out. The air is cool, winter is drawing near, before you know it the frost will stick to the ground and you’ll be back in Shadycreek plotting the demise of a certain Cerberus Assembly member. You’ll have to leave this all behind.

“You know I can’t. For all of our sakes.” You offer Molly a smile. You’re happy with what you got to see, the stories you were told but this is where it ends and that’s okay. Molly knows it too. Sometimes it’s better to let go than to hang on. You have your own life just as he has his.

“So I guess this is goodbye then.” Molly takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes lightly before he pulls you in for a hug. You return the embrace. Pulling apart enough to look him in the eyes you stroke his cheek, tracing the tattoos fanning up his neck and jaw.

“I am still but a ghost of the past. A ghost I will remain. I wish you a good life, Mollymauk Tealeaf. May we one day meet again.” You kiss his cheek and despite the appearance of Lucien, it doesn’t feel the same. Despite how it may sound, you’re happy it doesn’t. You step out of Molly’s arms.

“May we meet again.” The words Molly speaks are like a breath upon the wind as you walk backwards, one final look at the lavender tiefling as you blend into the darkness, fading like a ghost.

There may be many more things Molly would like to ask you. He’d like to get to know you and the thought that maybe one day he might, sounds like a good day in his mind. You have your own business to take care of first but maybe one day you will meet again. For now a ghost of the past he doesn’t recall you will remain…

——————

But a few months later you find your way back on the road to Shadycreek Run. There you found a grave marker along the Glory Run Road… The marker held a colourful ostentatious red coat embellished to the nines. It appears to have been left to the weather for some time but you recognise it. Hit with a sense of dread you approach the grave already knowing who it belongs to. The least you can do is pay your final respects to the friend you never got to know more.

You dismount your horse guiding it the reins closer to the marker. That’s definitely Molly’s coat. There’s no denying that now. You walk further up the hill offering a silent prayer to the Moonweaver who Molly admitted to being a follower of.

Approaching the grave you see it dug up. You expect grave robbers, thieves of some kind as you brush your fingers over the fabric of the coat. You get a glance of the grave and see it empty instead. Not robbed; empty. No body, nothing but the marker and the coat. Down the other side of the hill you see a figure, a lavender tiefling, tapestry draped around him watching the skies. The back is turned to you so the tiefling doesn’t see you. A wave of both relieve and dread washes over you as you are met with your own ghost of the past.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #mollymauk x reader #lucien x reader

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otterskin · 3 years

Text

Dumb Details From the Loki Trailer I noticed but then got too serious about

First - apparently it’s not a trailer, so I guess we’ll get ‘Trailer 1′ later? ‘Exclusive Clip’ hardly seems accurate, but hey, I’m not Disney’s marketing division. I wouldn’t live in a shoebox if I was.

Dumb detail no. 1:

Owen Wilson’s jacket is...weird. Look closely.

And another shot:

Yeah...his jacket has a ‘reversed collar’. It’s a cut-out rather than cloth folding on top. Huh. What a strange design choice. What could it mean?

I’ve no idea, but that I watched the trailer enough times to notice this should concern you.

Detail No. 2

In this scene, we see what we can presume to be President Loki’s ‘Throne’. Notice the candy-canes. This is a Santa Claus throne, presumably from some mall Santa. This whole place might be in a mall, judging by the stuff in it.

But the Loki in this shot is not President Loki. Notice that he’s wearing brown pants, a thin brown tie, and the beige shirt he’s seen wearing in other parts of the trailer after he's apparently joined the TVA. President Loki wears black pants, a green vest and a wide green tie with a golden clip that resembles Loki’s little chevron he always has (more on that later).

So it would seem that Loki might meet President Loki here. President Loki might even be addressing him at the end of the trailer. It’s possible that his minions turn on him because there’s two Lokis and they don’t know which is the ‘imposter’.

Speaking of, there’s a minion with bicycle handlebars grafted to a football helmet here, likely meant to resemble Loki. I dig it. There’s also cans of food scattered among the rubbish here. Makes sense that food production is non-existent since everyone has resorted to wearing license plates and spoons. Love how tattered the whole aesthetic is.

This reminds me of the opening Michael Waldron’s script ‘Worst Guy of All Time’, which featured a similar post-apocalyptic setting after the ‘worst guy’ ruins everything and makes himself king of the ashes. That’s likely what’s happened here, but I hope that Loki isn’t anything like Logan Paul, who was the inspiration for that title character.

Ah, the mysterious female character watching a meteor shower WAY TOO CLOSE UP. But my eyes are drawn to one thing...

What is that oblong object with a shiny handle? Could it be...

A sword? I do love swords. Did you know there’s a bunch of pictures of me in the stock photos for ‘Fencing?’ That’s my cred for loving swords.

I suspect that this female character will be an amalgamation of Amora (shudder) and Sylvie and an alternate Loki of some kind. This sword is currently in her possession, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it or another timeline version of it becomes the Loki Show’s Loki′s weapon.

Loki has lacked a ‘weapon of his own’ in the MCU for quite some time. I mean, yes, he has his little knives, but they are many and disposable and something he chose for himself, rather than the two legendary weapons wielded by Odin and Thor, Gungnir and Mjolnir. In fact, throughout his appearances, Loki has seemed to want such a thing of his own - he briefly had Gungnir, and then the Gungnir-like scepter, and even tried to lift Mjolnir.

One might ask why Odin would’ve overlooked such an obvious show of favouritism. Why give Thor a storied weapon and leave Loki empty-handed? Heck, even Hela had the Necroblade.

In Thor 1, we might’ve assumed that the Casket of Ancient Winters was perhaps intended one day to be given to Loki, as it is shown with Mjolnir in the Vault and thus connected to it and the children who would inherit it. But in the comics, Odin did have another weapon of storied history put away for his second son: Gram the Sword.

It was locked for eons by Odin in a special vault which required five keys to be opened, and it was meant to be for Loki if he be worthy.[2] The five keys were infused by Odin with the powers of "journeys", "endurance", "secrets", "new beginnings", and "brotherhood", respectively.[3]

The sword, like everything else in comics, has a complicated history full of take-backs and twists, but let’s just leave it at ‘it’s a representation of Loki’s worthiness and belonging in the trifecta with Odin and Thor as a King of Asgard’. It gives him ‘equality’.

In the original mythology, it’s wielded by Sigurd to kill the dragon Fafnir, and the only relation it has to Loki is that Loki is partially responsible for Fafnir existing in the first place (my username is nod to this myth by the by. Sorry Ottär.) But hey, maybe that means we’re getting a dragon? The Fafnir would be very cool.

Or it could just be a bit of rebar in this mining quarry.

Then again...it appears somewhere else...

It’s easier to see in motion, but that’s a sword swinging on this person’s back.

So the hooded figure is this lady...shall we call her Amylkie? Does that mean she’s the antagonist of this show? Well...maybe, but I suspect the true antagonist is foreshadowed here -

So, what’s going on here? A young girl (Young Amylkie? Some other TVA prisoner that the guard is watching over? An oracle, A Norn, or a kid who wandered off from the tour group in a basilica somewhere?) She’s giving Mobius M. Mobius a...piece of chocolate. Maybe he saw a Dementor, I dunno. I suspect it’ll be a MacGuffin of some kind later. He looks pretty concerned here, which contrasts with his ‘another day at the office’ blaséness when dealing with Loki. But of course this is the eye-catcher:

So, Norse Mythology. It’s been Christiannized. You can thank Snorri Sturluson for that, but you can google all about him later. Let’s just say that he made many Norse figures into equivalents for Christian ones. Baldur is Jesus, pure and a sacrificial lamb who dies for a greater good. And the devil is...Loki. Something the Marvel comics and the MCU have continued.

Here we have a devil, dressed in green and with a distinct shape on his chest:

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

Ah. I’d say that cinches it. This is meant to be Loki. If you look at the devil’s hair, it also resembles Loki’s, being shoulder-length and black.

So, what’s devil-Loki doing? Laying an egg? Trying out a foot massager? For a second I thought it was a moon, but we see the moon over his left shoulder, amongst the stars. Which means this is - probably the Earth.

...Dammit; I live there.

So Earth is barren and being devoured by flames, likely caused by this Loki sitting atop of it (in a throne, no less). Aw gee, things look pretty bad, don’t they?

But wait - what’s that? Under the Earth (and, possibly, under the earth)?

It’s a plant. A shoot, to be exact.

Back to Ragnarok for a second. Ragnarok isn’t the apocalypse (something we see a lot of in this trailer - all of it seems to be exploring the end of days). Ragnarok is the fire meant to wipe out the old and fertilize the ground for the new. And after the gods have died, what happens? Well, Baldur emerges from Hel, one of the only surviving gods (hmm, seems him dying worked out, didn’t it?). He’s joined by Líf and Lífþrasir, who are the new first man and woman, who’s names mean ‘Life’ and who are pictured, usually, with plants and new life. It is they who are tasked who growing a new Yggdrasil after the destruction of the old. The previous first man and woman are Ask and Embla, meaning Ash Tree and Vine/Elm tree, so there’s a theme there.

So a new sprout, possibly a tree, growing out of the destruction of the old.

This fits with Loki’s role as understood in mythology. He checks the arrogance of the gods, including when they tried to achieve immortality (sorry, Baldur, nothing personal), and that keeps the gods at their best. After Loki is imprisoned, the gods become weak, unhelpful and foolish, and Yggdrasil starts to rot. Eventually Loki escapes and returns along with Surtur (who also resembles this figure) to burn it all to the ground. This is also referenced in Thor:Ragnarok, with Loki releasing Surtur in the Vault, a place of thematic importance to Loki and one that represents the hidden secrets and sins of Asgard). You could say Ragnarok continued into Infinity War, where Loki played an important part in aiding Thanos’ destruction, giving up the stone to protect his brother and essentially dooming the rest of the universe - but also ultimately leading to its salvation, even if, like Myth Loki, he wasn’t around to see it.

So, we see Amylkie literally start a fire in the trailer -

- in fact, this whole trailer is awash in flame -

It’s fire, fire everywhere and she’s setting them!

It’s possible Amylkie’s our big bad, but I think there’s a chance she’s either a red herring, or, much like how Loki ‘worked’ with Thanos in The Avengers, she is the pawn of a greater foe -

- a Loki bent on destruction, for some reason or other. The TVA is obviously aware that this is the case, and it seems like they might be trying to ‘fight fire with fire’ by enlisting one Loki to combat another. The villain could be President Loki, since there's evidence of 2 Lokis in that scene - or maybe that's one of many Lokis, and the Big Bad Loki is being played by Hugh Grant as Old Loki. In any case, it would appear that Loki will be coming face-to-face with the worst versions of himself, and many of them. And, if I’m right about this scene:

...Loki will likely eventually discover that even his ‘good’ timeline ended in the destruction of his people and home, plus his own gruesome and torturous death. Although I think the TVA will keep that from him, and just show him the happy parts in an effort to inspire ‘good behaviour’. Until Loki inevitably discovers the rest of how that timeline played out and realize he’s been lied to. I don’t imagine he’ll take that very well...

Damn, even our ‘hero’ Loki is burning stuff down! Does this mean that Loki is doomed, always meant to be an avatar of death and toasty destruction?

Well...let’s go back to that stained glass.

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

And there’s something else...the bottom of the Earth is being lit up, and not by fire. Light appears to be coming off this little plant.

What colour is this plant again? That’s right, green. Green is the colour of new life and growth and change and...hang on, I’ve heard that before, too...

Hang on hang on HANG ON... let me have a look at the shape again.

That’s...a letter. An L? For Loki? Like in the title sequence?

Wait...no, a different letter. An older letter. After all, Loki is old Norse. How do you spell his name in that again?

ᛚᛟᚲ ᛁ -

And ENHANCE on that third letter!

This, my friends, is a Kenaz/Kaunaz, or what would become 'K' in our alphabet. It is also known as the 'Loki Rune' (and the Ulcer Rune, for some reason. I suspect Odin understands why). It’s used to spell his name, but is also used on his own to represent him. Heck, it's even his Superman 'S' in the comics:

Runes are more than letters - they are symbols for concepts. So what else does it mean?

Primarly, it means ‘torch’.

And also ‘knowledge’ (ken). As well as ‘growth, change, the search for truth, decay, arrogance, elitism, feminine, kinship and creativity.’

...Okay, that’s a lot, but you have to admit it fits.

More specifically, it means ‘Mastery of the Fire’. As in, someone who has learned to tame fire so that it is helpful, not harmful. To bring light and, symbolically, knowledge.

There’s another way Loki’s been associated with fire - in the Wagner Ring Cycle, Das Rheingold, the opera that inspired much the Thor films’ aesthetic and certainly their helmets, Loki is called ‘Loge’, which means ‘Fire’. He’s usually dressed to match, too -

Many trickster figures are associated with fire. They are usually called ‘Fire-bringers’ - See: Raven, Lucifer, Prometheus, etc. They are often complex figures with a foot in different worlds, but who nonetheless help mankind with the gift of ‘fire’ - although they usually pay for it, and tend to be self-destructive.

(Side note. Lucifer means light-bringer, which is what luciferase is named after. Because it glows. Which is helpful in labs. In case someone needed to know that.)

Moving from a destructive fire-starter to a fire-bringer seems like a great character arc for Loki to take, especially given his rehabilitation in pop culture, the comics, and even wider culture. Loki has gone from being seen as an evil, deviant, destructive character to one who’s seen as a patron of the arts and creativity, of stories rather than lies. Heck, some scholars of Norse Mythology even posit that he’s the closet thing to a protagonist Norse Mythology has, so I guess that backfired, Snorri!). Being dressed in green and with the sprout clearly also being stylized after his Kaunaz, there’s foreshadowing that he’ll be capable of growing good things even out of ashes.

So, to sum up: Being ‘Satan’ sounds pretty bad, but with a little letter re-arranging like we see in the title sequence, you can be...

...practically a saint. Maybe even a saviour.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

#loki #trailer #details #meta #theories #theory #explanation #thor #tva #santa #devil #snorri sturluson whinging #christmas #fire #kaunaz #loki trailer

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gunterfan1992 · 3 years

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Interview with Half Shy (the songwriter of “Monster”)

For the last few months, I’ve been collecting information for a second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo that will also cover the production of Distant Lands. This means that I’ve started to look into the new songs that we have been graced with this year, and this of course includes “Monster,” the beautiful track from the masterpiece that is “Obsidian”. And so I reached out to the song’s writer, Half Shy, who was kind enough to chat with me via email about the songwriting process!

(Photo courtesy of Half Shy)

In many ways, Half Shy is living the creative Adventure Time fan’s dream: She got asked by Adam Muto himself to write a song for “Obsidian” after he heard her music through Bandcamp! (I’ve dabbled in fan music before, and the fact that someone from the show might listen to it just blows my mind.) What an opportunity; I am so excited for her!

Since a second edition of my book won’t be coming out until after all the Distant Lands episodes air, I thought it would be best to share my Half Shy interview now. Read on for the fascinating behind the scenes story of how Half Shy and “Monster” came to be..

GunterFan: What is your origin story? How did you get involved in music, and how did the Half Shy project come to be?

Half Shy: I’ve been making music pretty quietly since I was in high school with a keyboard and guitar. I played one or two shows a year after college when I could find a friend or my brother to get up on stage with me, but I don’t really have that performer gene in me naturally. I get too much in my head and forget what the lyrics are to the song I wrote, or what the next chord is. Total brain freeze. So that whole experience is a bit of a mental drain. It’s something I think I’d like to dig into and figure out, but right now I’m really enjoying the time writing.

Even playing a song for my friends I still get pretty nervous. That’s where the name Half Shy comes from. I’ve always been interested in making things that by their nature draw a bit of a spotlight, but at the same time, I am just really quite nervous about the attention.

I recorded my first songs under my old name Hey V Kay in my bedroom and started putting them up online one at a time. When I got enough I thought about packaging it up into an album, but then got really distracted by learning how to fix up motorcycles and going to automotive tech school. When I eventually got back around to it I named the album Gut Wrenching.

After a few years I realized that I didn’t want the day-in-day-out life of a mechanic, I just wanted to know how to fix cars for myself and to have that knowledge in my back pocket. I got back into making music but grew frustrated at the process of writing and recording songs. I felt like I wasn’t able to capture the ideas I had in my head. Like trying to draw on your computer with a mouse. Doable, but it’s not going to come out like you’d hoped.

So these last couple of years I’ve focused more on learning the technical aspect of it, from the initial ideas and lyrics, to the recording and mixing. During that process I put out Bedroom Visionaries, and while writing I happened upon the name Half Shy in an old Thesaurus which felt instantly right. Learning all of that has been fun, I even went as far as to create my own book to solidify a daily writing routine (lyricworkbook.com). All that has been a bit of a tangent from actually making much music though. I should be getting my books in December from the press so I’m really looking forward to getting back into making more music instead of dealing with printing presses, setting up websites, and sourcing ribbon suppliers.

GF: What is the story behind "Monster"? How did the show get in contact with you?

HS: I keep a log of “Song Starters” with neat things I’ve heard in the world, and I would look through it every now and then and notice just how many came from Adventure Time. Eventually I thought well, I have to make a song about this show that just keeps breaking my heart. It was around the time I was nearly done with the first [Adventure Time-inspired] song “In My Element” that I got an email from Bandcamp saying “someone bought your album (Bedroom Visionaries).”

I get maybe one or two of these a month at most so I love to go in and say hi to the person and say thanks, be curious about who they are, [and] what they’re all about. Turns out it was Adam Muto, the executive producer of the show. (I asked and he has no idea how he happened upon my stuff. He guessed that I must have tagged something #adventuretime and he just happened to see it.) So I sent him an email saying, “Hey wow thanks for checking out my tunes. Also... holy crap you’ve made the best show I have ever seen in my life.” [I] played it real cool like. After finishing up writing my second [Adventure Time-inspired] song “Betty” I couldn’t help but fangirl real hard [and I sent him another message saying], “I’m sorry this is probably awkward, but I really love your show and I wrote these songs about it.” He was incredibly kind and shared them with his Twitter Universe, and a while after that I got a random email from him saying basically, “Hey, I’m working on this thing I can’t talk about, would you be interested?” I was like… well you know I’m pretty busy working at a sign shop so I’m gonna have to pass on this once in a lifetime opportunity (J/K. Obviously I fan-girl squealed and said yes immediately).

We chatted a bit about what the project was going to be and the direction. He mentioned there [would be] two Marceline songs in the special, [and he asked if I] would I be interested in giving the love song a try? Trying real hard to suppress my instant imposter syndrome I was like, “Yea, totally I’d be into giving that a shot!” So I read through the story and loved the idea of the dragon mirrored in Marceline, thinking through how they’ve both built up a protective shell, how she grew tough for a reason, but now she can open up and be vulnerable with PB.

From there I wrote the initial demo with the first two verses mostly intact and we went back and forth a few times editing it down into the final version. I recorded the final parts for the show in my little home studio in Seattle.

GS: When you were writing the song, what emotions, thoughts, or ideas were you channeling? Was there any sort of memory of event that you were trying to artistically "catch" or "recreate" with the lyrics or music?

HS: As far as channeling an emotion, generally I’d say just the experience of existing as a human. It can be so hard to open up and be vulnerable. I can remember that feeling even as a young kid—getting really excited about something and having someone completely trash it or look at you like, “Why are you so interested in that? It’s dumb.” [It causes us to grow] a little more weary to share ourselves because we know that hurt and embarrassment. The pain of being misunderstood is something I think a lot of us can relate to. Then having to decide whether to keep sharing those vulnerable parts of yourself or think, “They’re just not going to get it, I’m going to get hurt, so why bother?” and then stop putting yourself out there. You lose a lot with that thick armor though. You might feel protected, but you’re not feeling a whole lot of anything else other than the weight and chafing of it (I had a whole lot of armor-related metaphors that I didn't end up using.).

I struggle with this in songwriting too. I’m not the bolt-of-lightning type. There are pages and pages of cliches, total garbage, bad jokes, and cheesy lines that I have to get through in order to get to something that I am excited to put out there into the world: “Here I did this thing, I know it’s a little (this or that), but I made it... What do you think?” It’s hard to open yourself up to hearing the other end of that question.

I filled about 5 little pocket notebooks just thinking through the story, ideas, and trying to get this song right. I wanted it to feel familiar and honor the past songs of the show ([e.g.,] using the ukulele and referencing a few of the familiar chords from “I’m Just Your Problem”) but also be pretty open and vulnerable and different for [Marceline]. [I wanted to] show that she’s going through some tough emotions but also figuring herself out and growing.

GF: I feel like “Monster” is, at its core, an ode to the “Bubbline” ship. How do you feel about your song being intimately connected to one of the most famous LGBTQ+ relationships in animation? Do you have any general thoughts on Marcy and PB, Bubbline, etc.?

HS: Oh, I’m a total fan girl of Bubbline. The whole story of how Rebecca Sugar and Muto slowly morphed it into this deeper relationship is just great. As a part of the LGBTQ community myself it really means so much to see the representation of characters like yourself portrayed in an intelligent way. Growing up I was too young to fully understand what was going on but I saw Ellen getting cancelled, and [I] heard people around me saying they’d never watch her show again after she came out. That stuff sinks in as a kid and so to have these characters who are not only intelligent, but funny, complex, and unapologetically strong who also happen to be queer is really great. I love that the story here isn’t about their orientation, but that they’re people struggling with how to be open and vulnerable in a relationship.

It feels like something sci-fi and animated shows do so well—to show that ridiculousness of limiting who a person should and shouldn’t love. Marceline is a 1000+ year old half-demon/vampire and PB was born from the Mothergum of an apocalyptic radioactive world, but you’re going to get hung up on them loving each other? It sort of brings it into perspective in a really interesting way.

GF: Do you have any other thoughts about the experience that you'd like to share?

HS: Just how lucky, thankful, and honored I feel to be a part of my favorite show, writing a song for one of my favorite characters. It’s also incredibly cool how the people on the show are so willing to connect and collaborate with their fandom. Everyone [on the production crew] was very open and a real joy to work with.

I’d like to give a huge “Thank you!” to Half Shy for agreeing to participate in this interview; she really was quite amiable! If you’d like to hear more of her music, check out her website and her Bandcamp. You can also follow her on Instragram here and on Twitter here. And of course, here is Half Shy’s awesome video of “Monster”.

#adventure time #atimers #adventure time distant lands #atdl #half shy #monster #bubbline #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #pb #adam muto #interview

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princessofprocrastination · 3 years

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Incapable Of Love (Corpse Husband)

MASTERLIST

summary : corpse hasn’t been in a relationship for a while. he thought he was ready when he met you, but now he’s not so sure anymore. (a dash of sykkuno)(angst)

a/n : dude i spent three whole days writing this and maybe i went too far, it’s so long. anyways, enjoy. this might not be the only part, please tell me if you want a continuation and tell me who you want yourself to end up with.

warning : a very long story, and a whole lot of heartbreak.

you were semi wild in highschool. no, you weren’t a party goer, you didn’t even start drinking till you reached twenty-one, but you didn’t have a hard time finding a boyfriend. although you never ha a hard time moving on, you are still a virgin, and you are proud to say that.

your mother always told you to have fun while you were young, and never to feel deprived of the little things like going to clubs, this way, you would settle down and never feel the need to go back to the party phase ever again when you’re married and have kids.

truth be told, you never thought about wanting kids. while every one of your friends spoke about their dream lives with kids, you never saw yourself with a child.

you never took dating in highschool seriously. no one does. you did it to have fun. this was because you were in a very abusive relationship early on your teenage days.

you were too young and naive to say anything when your then boyfriend would hit you, since he was much older than you, which was completely legal as you two weren’t doing anything sexual.

it started small, just loud screaming or he would get in front of your face. then, he would scream at you while holding your face in one of his hands tightly, which would leave red finger marks all over your cheeks. it didn’t take long till he fully hit you, grabbing your hair and banging it on the wood table.

it took you almost risking your life for your friends to find out what was happening and reporting him to the police.

the amount of head injury you took caused a lot of trauma, but you still pushed through and didn’t let it get to you. your friends often called you a ray of sunshine although you dress the opposite.

you would call yourself lucky. lucky that you found happiness in your job, that you weren’t stuck on a boring desk job. you were lucky to have started youtube.

your friends would tell you that you deserved the success and fame that youtube had brought you, to keep going and not to let your actual supporters down whenever the hate would come up.

then, quarantine started. which somehow made your channel grow even bigger. also, this meant that you had time to just do better in creating content.

one of your subscribers had commented about someone by the name of “corpse husband”.

you had never heard of this name before, which made you more curious, but you never looked into it.

corinna kopf, had brought you into the idea of streaming in your free time. and since you grew up playing minecraft, you started streaming your minecraft gameplays.

soon enough, you made new friends and was invited to play among us, a really popular game during quarantine.

there is where you found out who corpse husband actually is.

streaming, you joined the discord call. your facecam directly showing your face and your background being your newly cleaned bedroom.

“this is y/n, she makes one hell of an imposter,” corinna says to the rest of the people in the discord call.

you blushed, not expecting the attention when you just joined in.

felix, who goes by the name pewdipie introduces the rest of them to you.

“and corpse is here too, his name had been popping a lot up in your comment section.” felix said to you.

“actually, i was about to ask about that.” you replied. confused on why the rest of them were teasing you too.

“let’s just say, a certain deep voice man had been simping for you recently.” valkyrae told you.

“awh, that’s sweet, i’ve never had anyone simped for me before.” i said, smiling t myself.

it took approximately three seconds for your stream comments to be filled with “i simped for you way before he did.” or “i simped since you started your channel”

you laughed, you were expecting this.

“okay, i’m guilty of that.” the man itself said.

that was how your friendship started, which soon continued into a relationship.

you weren’t even sure how you were capable of finding such a man. he takes good care of you, making sure you ate your medicine at the right time. to which you would remind him to take his, too.

he’s a respectful man, always making sure he didn’t accidentally go above your boundaries.

before the both of you were official, you made sure he knew about your past trauma, that’s you were sensitive to a lot of noises. screaming, glasses breaking, even the sound of people clapping.

months go by and you both are going strong. you are usually at his house more than you are at your own. today was no exception.

you came back to corpse’ place after filming a video with another fellow youtuber. you didn’t have the best of days. the person you were collaborating with turned out to be a pretty creepy person.

he kept on asking you about personal thing like your sex life, although you’ve told him many times that you weren’t comfortable with talking about that.

behind the scenes too, he would try to come up to you and grab your waist. you left his house in anger and rush.

you left corpse’ apartment before sunrise and came back early enough for dinner.

you knew that he would be streaming today, and since he usually streams late, you weren’t rushing to make dinner.

you always had an issue with getting him to eat, but since you both are still in the “honeymoon period” of your relationship, it had still been tolerable.

you put your bags down on the couch as you start to make dinner, not going to shower in case corpse hasn’t ate anything today. you felt bad for leaving him alone for a long period of time.

you finished cooking and quickly cleaned up, making sure all the dishes are clean before you call on corpse to eat.

you stood in front of his steaming room, bracing yourself before asking him to eat. although he is a puppy inside and was only intimidating because of his voice, you couldn’t help but feel scared at times. it was your habit.

you knocked on the door softly twice, making sure you weren’t interrupting anything.

you didn’t hear anything from inside the room. you knocked a little louder since you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you.

you heard some clicking of keyboard keys. you assumed that he couldn’t hear you so you slowly opened the room door, making sure his stream couldn’t hear you just in case he was unmuted.

although you two have been together for almost a year, he had told you that he wasn’t ready for the public to know, not even your mutual friends. that did make you a little hurt but you brushed it off since you knew it was going to be worth it.

anything with him was worth it.

“hey.” you started, making sure not to startle him.

he put his hand up for you to see. you stopped in the middle of the room, scared that you messed something up.

corpse clicks one of his keyboards. he turns to you slightly, but not looking into your eyes. you found this a little weird but you pushed the thought at the back of your head.

“bub i made dinner, let’s eat.” you said to him.

“not hungry.” he replies.

you sighed. you knew this was going to happen.

“you always say this, but you need to eat.” you almost whined at him, practically begging him to eat.

“‘said i’m not hungry.” he replied to you again.

“even just a little, please eat.” you tried again.

“JUST STOP, I’VE HAD IT WITH YOU. I TOLD YOU I’M NOT HUNGRY.” corpse screams, while his left hand banged on his gaming table loudly.

you flinched, and slightly moved back. this brought you flashbacks to your highschool relationship.

“i’m sorry.” you said, voice soft that you weren’t even sure he could hear.

you left the room in a rush but still tried to get out quietly.

you could hear corpse continuing his steam. tears were now going down your cheeks as you walked in your shared bedroom.

you sat on the bed, with your legs folded to your chest as you have a mild panic attack.

soon, after almost an hour or two of just crying, you knew your anxiety wouldn’t calm unless you slept, not knowing what to do without someone else helping you calm down.

you laid in bed, tucking your legs into the duvet, almost cuddling into yourself. you felt extra drained with all the things that happened earlier. you soon fell asleep, crying.

you don’t often struggle with sleep, but when you do, it’s usually hard to take care of. these were one of those days.

you woke up only a couple of hours later, not even making it into the AM.

you sat on the bed, rethinking about what happened. although you were very tired and in need of sleep, your brain worked perfectly fine after that screaming fest.

you got up and stood in front of corpse’ streaming room, trying to listen in whatever is happening inside.

“i just need a little break for her, that’s all, i didn’t mean to lash out.” you heard him say.

he’s probably on the phone with someone.

“i don’t even think i want this relationship anymore. it’s just so hard, she has her problems too, i can’t handle mine and hers.” he continues.

you ceased all your movements. you were thinking of talking it out but now you weren’t so sure he even wanted that.

it took you approximately three seconds to think through what you should do.

you weren’t one to make rash decisions but you knew for sure that you just had to leave. for good.

you walked back into your shared bedroom and carefully and quietly packed all your things, making sure to not leave anything behind. lucky for you, you both hadn’t moved in together, you just spent your time here, more than your own apartment.

you quietly walked to the front door of his apartment, grabbing your car keys. you stood in front of the door, sighing.

this was it.

finally, you left his apartment.

CORPSE’S POV

“- handle mine and hers.” i said.

“you can’t say that, you know you appreciate her, she’s been there for you through all the major things, don’t be stupid over a small comment someone made about you guys.” sean, who i was on the phone with, told me.

i sighed.

“i know, but it just really messed my head up, you know.” i said to him.

“i get it, but don’t put the blame on her. it’s already bad that you lashed out on her after she made food for you.” sean said.

food. i’m kinda hungry now.

the conversation lasted for a couple more minutes before i told him i was hungry and needed to eat.

i walked out the streaming room, out to a weirdly cold living room. i brushed it off since it happens sometimes. maybe the heater broke.

it was oddly quiet in the apartment, so i assumed she fell asleep.

i walked into the kitchen to see two plates of food still sitting there, definitely untouched.

i glance at the place she usually hangs her keys.

it was gone. her shoes, gone.

i walk in the bedroom and open all the cabinets where her clothes are usually in. they’re gone.

shit.

YOUR POV

although it’s been a couple months since the whole “argument”, it never got better.

but you’ve always been a tough cookie, not showing other people your feelings. you had always been good at that.

valkyrae, one of your bestfriends, had made sure you were okay, knowing what went down.

she visited you often, making sure you were okay.

remember the same day the argument happened, you met up with a creepy youtuber for a collab? yeah, well, he went on social media to call you some derogatory words.

he even made a video saying you promised him sexual things after filming, which you couldn’t even believe came out of his mouth.

lucky for you, your supporters never ceased to amaze you. they knew you were not that type of person, and even made sure his platform was taken away from him.

that whole scandal wasn’t taking up your brain but corpse did. it seemed like he didn’t care at all. as if he was just waiting for the day you left his place for your own.

that took a while to get over, and you were sure that you aren’t 100% over it, hence why rae has been helping you all along.

only a couple weeks since the argument, you felt like you couldn’t stay in your apartment any longer. there was just too many memories of him in there.

again, you knew you were lucky in the sense that you had the financials to move.

this time, you moved to a house, since you needed a bigger space and you felt bad that every time your friends came over, they had to bunk in a small space you called your apartment.

rae and yourself got somehow super close with a lot of the offlinetv members. sykkuno, being one of them somehow clicked with you instantly after meeting.

he and rae helped you move your things from your apartment to your house.

it felt good saying that. house. not an apartment. not a place you pay rent anymore.

you tried to get over the corpse thing, but deep down you knew your love for him would never disappear. he was one of a kind. and although he says he has many problems, you found that special about him.

but what do you know. you can’t say much when feelings aren’t reciprocated. you understood that you were a handful but why did it have to hurt this bad.

“hey, stop thinking about him.” sykkuno says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“who?” you asked, acting dumb.

“you know who, it doesn’t take a genius to know.” he answers you.

dang it, he caught it.

you looked at sykkuno. you couldn’t help but think about it at times. although you’ve settled in your new place for a while now, no more memories of him, you just couldn’t help it.

“come here.” sykkuno says, opening his arms out, reaching out to me.

you went to his side on the couch, engulfed in his arms. he understood you. that’s what you loved about your friends. they all understood you.

too busy cuddling up to sykkuno, you hadn’t heard a shutter of a camera from behind you.

valkyrae giggled silently, glad she got a photo of you two.

she posted it on her story, captioning it, “so proud of this girl right here for being so strong. also, aren’t these two so cute.”

you didn’t see the photo until after dinner, once all of you are on the couch, watching the voice.

“rae, what did you do?” you asked her when you saw your twitter blow up.

“i have no clue what you’re talking about.” she tells me, acting innocent.

i clicked on one of the photos on twitter that had been circulating. the moment i clicked on it, i saw a very familiar pair. sykkuno and i.

“very funny, rae.” i laughed along with her, showing sykkuno what i just saw.

you didn’t think much of it since you two are just friends but since you saw the amount of ‘ships’, you decided to post something on your instagram

“guys, come here, let’s take a photo.” you told them two.

you quickly snapped a photo. you made sure none of you look too crazy in the photo.

you posted the photo on your instagram and wrote “three friends, hanging out. they might kiss. they might :)”

you showed rae and sykkuno before you posted it.

sykkuno laughed before opening twitter and tweeting “they might kiss, they might.”

you saw his tweet from over his shoulder. you high-fived him for going with the joke.

obviously you two aren’t dating. if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t completely over corpse. you have admitted it to your two friends once in a confession night during a sleepover.

but you couldn’t lie that you had a very very small crush on sykkuno once. like come on, he’s just so wholesome and sweet, you couldn’t help yourself.

you were proud to say it too, he was your crush and he knew that. he is very proud to say that too.

since the breakup, you’ve had a pretty good life.

yes, you moved in a house that you had already fully paid for but other than that, you proud to say you got a new car, amazing house renovations, made a lot more new friends who support you endlessly and you even got a cat as a companion to fill the void you have for staying at such a big house.

CORPSE’S POV

i’ve been miserable ever since. i see her everywhere on the internet.

i know she has been better off without me. only an idiot couldn’t tell that. she made a lot of new friends, got a house, got a new car.

i’ve seen them all. vogue interviewed her. and apparently she can sing too and she’s been singing in a lot of shows.

it’s getting harder and harder to get her out of my head.

why was i that stupid. stupid enough to think i was better off without her.

now when i look at myself in the mirror i feel pathetic. dishes were left piling up in the kitchen, the beds are always unmade.

i took her for granted.

FLASHBACK

shit.

did she leave?

a part of me says that this was the easy way to let her go. letting her go without actually letting go.

i had been dreading to talk to her. but another part of me thinks i should go to her apartment and find her. discuss it with her.

without realizing, tears rush down my cheeks.

i wipe it quickly, not understanding my own feelings. why was i crying when i was the one who had wanted this in the first place?

NOW

i regret the time i didn’t rush to find her. i didn’t know what i was thinking. why would i make such a rash decision like then when i knew damn well how well she treated me.

why did i have to be such an ass?

i called sean that day. he scolded me for being so stupid. i agreed, but i still didn’t make an effort to find her.

now that she lives somewhere else, i’m regretting it. i can’t ask rae or sykkuno, knowing that i’d just get scolded yet again. they are her bestfriends afterall.

even since rae posted the pic of you and sykkuno in your living room, i felt jealous. but i had no right, not anymore.

then i saw your instagram story, then sykkuno’s tweet. have you moved on already?

was i too late?

you are happy now that i’m not. you are happy doing your own things, thriving and here i was, sitting on my bed, crying.

i remember not even a day after she left, there was a huge scandal which included her in it. i was heartbroken and stupid, not knowing what to do with the fact that she left that i believed that stupid youtuber.

sean called me an idiot, stupid enough to believe that she would do that to me when i damn well knew that she wasn’t that type of person.

i felt stupid now that i took her for granted, that i lost the chance to get her back into my arms.

but she’s happy now. and that’s all that matters. even if it’s in another guys’ arms.

PART 2

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corspe husband imagines #corspe husband imagine #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband fanfic

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sconnie-doesnt-know · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1

Characters - Ransom, assorted OCs, Reader

Word Count - 3100

Warnings - Drinking, language

A/n - Welcome to my Ransom series! I am so excited to play with this character. Long term, there will be angst, and fluff, and smut, which you won’t need to wait long for, I promise. Here’s the intro. I hope you like it. There’s mostly set-up this chapter and of course, an unforgettable introduction to our sweater-loving heartbreaker.

I appreciate feedback. If there are errors, please let me know. Line dividers used were made by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Job hopping isn’t at the top of your to-do list, but if life had shown you anything lately, it is that you need some changes.

Whitney leans hard into the bar in front of her, elbows resting just right to push her tits together as she tries for the bartender’s attention. She doesn’t look at you as she talks, but so far she seems to still be paying attention, “So how late were you to the interview?”

The lump in your stomach had still not settled after the disaster from the afternoon.

“I was almost an hour late. I got off on the wrong exit and still have no clue how to circle back through the construction the way you do.”

“Yikes,” she says as she waves and gets a nod from the bartender in return.

At last there’s hope and liquor finally on the horizon.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have even bothered. I think he still gave me the interview as a joke.”

“Well. Fuck it.” She shrugs and handles the drinks.

She pays the bartender, throwing in a wink for good measure, then hands you your glass. She does a slow spin as she takes in the scene, nodding to herself.

“You know what? I like this place!” Whitney shouts into your ear, hopping from foot to foot in a drunken attempt to dance to the pop ballad blasting through the speakers.

You look around the unfamiliar bar, not really focusing on anything, but trying to find some point of interest. The evening so far has been a dull combination of mixed drinks and bar hopping as you and your friend look for a place with a “good vibe” as Whitney described it. She zeroed in on this place that looks like a misplaced supper club and dragged you in.

“Yeah!” you agree, honestly not caring enough to have much of an opinion.

“Stop it,” Whit hisses.

“Stop what?”

“You’re pouting. We’re supposed to be having fun and you’re pouting!” Whitney whines before jabbing herself with the straw in her glass.

You’re supposed to be her fun, party friend and you’re doing a terrible job of filling the role as of late.

“I know. I just hate that on top of everything, I have to avoid our bar because of The Ex.” You didn’t dare speak his name.

“You wanna go back? Fight for it? We can go there, I don’t care,” Whitney looks at you with barely concealed excitement, always anxious to stir up shit.

“Nope.” You stare into your drink, watching the level go down until you start to slurp on nothing but air. “More drinks.”

“More drinks!” Whit shouts, arms flailing and barely missing a passing cocktail waitress. “Whoa! Sorry!”

The blonde turns around, her face quickly changing from annoyance to surprise, “Whitney?!”

“Michelle!” your friend squeals before pulling her into a clumsy hug. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

You block them out as they catch up, not having any idea what they are going on about. It’s weird to be somewhere different, a new crowd, different atmosphere, brighter lights and lighter drinks. Just like starting over, like moving. Again.

At least you hadn’t lost Whit in the break-up. Shit, it wasn’t even really a break-up. It was you finding out how things were and being unwilling to put yourself in the middle of that shitshow. It wouldn’t lead to anything but emotional eating and long fights.

So, as Whit suggested, on to new hunting grounds.

“Yeah! We’ll be there,” you hear her say as you tune back in to their conversation.

The waitress, Michelle, looks you over, “Oh? Yeah, you come too.”

You give her a quick smile back then look to your friend to find out what she just agreed to after she walks back to the bar.

“Alright, so I knew her in school. We’re gonna go with her to another friend’s place. She’s texting me the address now.”

“Okay,” you answer, though she misses your lack of enthusiasm as she checks her phone for the info. You make your way to the bar for a refill and start to hope the rest of the night goes quickly.

It’s a small party in a spacious condo, more of a gathering really because that’s what adults do, you remind yourself. Michelle arrived at the same time as you and Whitney so she guided you inside.

Entering into the bright kitchen, a small group surrounds a kitchen island holding drinks and bottles. A few of them turn as the three of you enter, surprise showing on their faces and assorted exclamations of “No shit” and “Where the hell you been?” being shouted to Whitney and Michelle. You stand back to let them share hugs and flick your hand in an awkward wave as you get introduced to the group, names being called out without any real way for you to identify who’s who.

“Drinks?” someone asks.

“Yes,” you hiss. “Please,” you tack on at the end to hide the desperation for something to help get you through the night.

The guy looks taken aback, but nods and goes to the fridge to grab a bottle for each of you, popping off the tops before passing them out.

“Anyway…” their conversation picks back up. Whitney and Michelle jump in easily from time to time and the group forms a loose circle along the counters and the island. You lean back, not quite completing the circle, but not outside of it either. Your eyes move from person to person as they talk and add to the stories. It sounds like they are reminiscing about what they got up to while attending the university, but no one bothers to explain and you don’t ask.

Every now and again you find yourself nodding or tossing out a response, but otherwise not adding much to the conversation and realizing how long it’s been since you reached out to your old friends. Trying and failing to remember your last contact. Keeping in touch was never one of your strong suits.

Listening as they talk, their lives sound so far beyond where yours has stalled out, adventures past what you could imagine. That helpful inner voice reminds you that you don’t belong here. It’s more than just being a tag-along friend. There’s a twisting in your gut urging you to leave, suddenly feeling as though they are watching you, judging you, picking you apart and hating the imposter among them.

Looking over at Whitney, she’s clearly having a great time and won’t be ready to go any time soon. It makes you worry how long she’ll want to stick around or if you can talk her into getting another ride home so you can cut out of there before you can get embarrassed.

You take a step back, leaning against the counter, zoning out of the conversation and figuring out your exit, and regretting the drinks that are now delaying said exit strategy.

One of the guys from the group breaks away and makes his way toward you, making you press yourself further into the cabinets behind you to allow him to squeeze past, but instead he stops next to you, head tilted toward you and letting his brown hair fall over his forehead.

“Why are you so quiet?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you look at him, then quickly look away because jesus christ he’s handsome - like, model handsome, but it’s even more embarrassing to get flustered right to his face. In the extra seconds you take to answer he huffs out a laugh and settles in next to you.

“I, uh, I don’t know anyone,” you finally eek out.

“Well, talking to people usually helps.”

You hum an agreement, eyes flickering over to the group just a few feet away and catching a few people giving the two of you side-eyed glances, but not much else. “I don’t want to interrupt and I don’t really mind just observing.”

“So what? You just like watching other people talk?” he gestures with his glass to the group. You look up in time to catch two of them making lewd gestures at each other and laugh awkwardly.

“Sometimes? I just don’t feel the need to say anything if I don’t have something to actually contribute to the conversation.”

“Huh,” he responds, then takes a sip of his drink.

You brave a better look at him, admiring his profile and talking yourself down from cartoon heart-eyes. Begging yourself to not linger too long on his shoulders, the way you can just scent his cologne and it’s delightfully masculine, his model-perfect face...and absolutely failing. No doubt if someone was looking at you they could see the awe and lust on your face from being in such close proximity to someone this good looking. Then - then he smirks. It’s a tiny lift of the corner of his mouth and it makes your breath hitch. His eyes are gleaming with excitement, then he opens his mouth, his tone and volume demanding immediate attention.

“Hey, remember when Eric fucked Whit last fall? When was that, Thanksgiving weekend?”

You whip your head over to see Whitney’s jaw drop. The guy you assume is Eric freezes with his arm around another girl’s shoulders while her face steadily grows beet red and eyes go wet with tears. Everyone else stares between you and the man next to you, looking at you as though you conspired and causing you to shrink in on yourself.

“What?” the girl under Eric’s arm whimpers. Looking between the two of them while everyone else remains frozen. “Eric, I thought you went to your family cabin?”

“Oh yeah,” the guy next to you answers, “I forgot she didn’t know.”

His tone implies he’s anything but sorry and within seconds there is more shouting and Eric charges over to shout in his face.

You slide over, attempting to avoid the fray and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Your heart pounds and heat still burns at the tips of your ears and across your chest.

After a few moments the high-pitch screaming of the girl fades as she makes her way to the door, Eric shouting after her and following, the others shouting each other down as they try to de-escalate and yet the instigator just stands there with a smile on his face. After the front door slams he turns to look at you, catching you staring at him and he winks.

“How’s that for something to contribute?” he mutters, obviously only meant for you.

“That was a dick move, Hugh,” Whitney spits at him.

He squints with obvious annoyance. “Feeling guilty for fucking your friend’s boyfriend?” he challenges.

She stares him down, but doesn’t last long, turning back to her drink and the rest of the group, “She’s not really my friend, anyway.”

A few others agree with her, the others shrug, and you’re left gaping at the whole scene, unable to understand what just happened. The guy next to you, Hugh, moves so suddenly that you flinch, making him chuckle.

“Lighten up, sweetheart. Life’s more fun when you let loose.” He tips his head back to finish his drink and walks back to the group, leaning over the countertop and continuing like nothing odd had happened.

Whitney goes and makes herself comfortable in a recently vacated spot. Looking on for a while, you try to sort out the dynamics of everyone there, but it’s not easy to determine who’s who in the group just yet.

Their half-shouted stories start to wear on you, so you find yourself zoning out and deciding to take the opportunity to give yourself a little tour.

“So. Still not talking?”

“Jesus!” you hiss when the sudden intrusion makes you jump. The guy from earlier, Hugh, had snuck up next to you, a mischievous grin on his face and pink flush on his cheeks.

“Working up to it, I guess,” you breathe out, willing your racing heart to calm down. You look around, trying to find something else to look at so that you don’t have to look him in the eyes and bee-line for the bookshelf to look over the titles. They’re disappointing.

“So whose place is this? Whitney never bothered to introduce me.” You point back through the doorway, gesturing to the group at the table.

“She’s like that,” he notes.

“Yeah, she is,” you agree and step into his space, suddenly feeling too loose-limbed and loose-lipped from the earlier drinks. But he doesn’t seem bothered.

“Does it matter?” You feel his eyes scan you as he asks.

“Well, it’s not your place, is it?” you check. After he shakes his head no, you pull out a book and make a face, one hundred percent openly judging the owner on their taste. “He’s probably a pretentious snob, so I guess not.”

His eyes scrunch up and crinkle while he throws his head back in a laugh.

“How’d you figure that?” he asks, tilting his head and watching you over the rim of his glass as he takes a drink.

“Look around. Plus, you’ve met Whitney, right?” you tease.

As though she hears you talking about her, Whitney turns around and looks at the two of you. She calls your name, demanding that you join her. Then her eyes land on the man next to you, “Ransom, you too!”

“I thought your name was Hugh,” you sigh.

“Only the help calls me that,” he says with an eye roll, “And people who wanna piss me off.”

Internally you gawk, but try to keep a calm exterior as you panic to figure out how to backtrack on your ‘pretentious snob’ comment, no doubt offending someone who says ‘the help’ in such a tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry...you know I probably shouldn’t have said-” is all you’re able to get out, though. He places a hand at the small of your back, shushing you with a finger raised to his own lips.

“C’mon,” he says as he guides you back to the group. His hand stays fixed on your lower back for the rest of the night. His warm palm pressing against your skin and fingertips flexing and gripping almost possessively. It leaves you on edge as you try to focus on anything else, basically begging your brain to focus on anything at all and completely failing.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning everyone starts to disperse, Whitney hangs off of you as you make your way back to the car. Ransom makes his way to his vehicle. You put your hand up in an awkward wave, he nods and winks in response then closes his door after climbing inside, bringing an end to the evening.

Whitney manages to drag you out for a much less memorable night the next evening. When Monday arrives, you swear to yourself to not waste a weekend on a hangover like that again. You squint as you try to face away from the bright sun, fingers playing with a dead leaf beside you on the bench.

The weekdays are usually reserved for being dull. For going to work, listening to your co-worker, Carrie, talk about bathroom remodeling and in-law drama. For doing adult things like sleeping normal hours, laundry, getting tires replaced on the car. Some free time is spent searching for jobs, but so far that’s still been fruitless. Anyone who didn’t know you better would assume you pass for an acceptable adult your age, not someone just barely hanging on.

“You gotten laid lately?” Carrie, asks before sipping on her coffee. You snort at the abrupt question. There aren’t many secrets between you.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because! I have to live through you since I am an old, married broad. I don’t go out and have fun and fuck bartenders anymore.”

“Anymore? You never did,” you snort. She married her high school sweetheart, the only man she ever kissed, touched, and fucked. What a concept.

“Exactly!” she practically yells. “Sooo?”

It had been a while, well, aside from that one night you went home late with a bartender named Jeff, but he got hit with whiskey dick as soon as you hit the sheets and the night was a bust. She had laughed her ass off when you told her about that disaster.

“No. Nothing lately. Trying to be careful. You know that.” You respond less kindly than you usually would, hoping that she will drop the subject. Gratefully, she’s smarter than some and does just that, but you don’t miss the look. “I mean, I did meet a guy, but it wasn’t really anything. Didn’t even exchange numbers.”

“Good. I just worry about you, you know?” She meant well as she had listened to all your stories, from the one-nighters to the heartbreak. She’d warned you to be cautious with The Ex, but you didn’t really listen.

“Yeah. Thanks. I just...Well, nevermind. I’m not going there because it’s nothing I haven’t said before. I’m not getting into all of it right now.” You take a deep breath before you start to really ramble. You have no idea how much time has passed, but decide it’s enough, “Break time’s up. Gotta get back.”

She nods and walks with you back inside, feeling a tinge of guilt for not telling her about your next job interview later in the week, hoping you can still hang onto her friendship when she’s not your co-worker.

The remainder of the week passes uneventfully. Only Friday afternoon is broken up by a text from Whitney reminding you about going out that night. As though you’ve done anything different for the last few months. You scroll through your contacts, ignoring the nagging reminders to call your family, and that you need to send your regrets for yet another baby shower. Seeing The Ex still in the contact list stops you, a little warning voice reminding you that you are supposed to delete his number. You hover over it for a moment, debating making that leap, but decide last minute to keep it...just in case.

Whitney tells you that you’re going to the same bar as last Friday. For a second, you wonder if the evening will end the same way, and kind of hope a little bit that it does. Your imagination ran wild over the last week thinking of the small conversations and contact you had with Ransom the weekend before, analyzing details and tones and thinking about biting onto that lip and...

A new notification pulls you from your little daydream and you add another item to your mental to-do list: delete The Ex’s number and ask Whitney about Ransom.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale reader insert #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale series #c'mon let's pretend series #chapter one quite a feeling #chris evans characters #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey

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bnhayyy · 3 years

Text

The Call (2)

Chapter Title: Teamwork

Wordcount: 4.7k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Notes: See end of fic.

Chapter Summary: Mikasa has a conversation with Annie, and Annie has a conversation of her own.

"The slayer," Mikasa repeated, disbelief flat on her tongue. She let go of the woman’s - Annie’s - hand and took a step back. "I'm the slayer."

"I thought you might be," the woman - Annie - said. "That's why I came here. I thought-"

"No," Mikasa cut her off, already shaking her head. "There's only one slayer at a time. You're..."

A lie. An imposter. Impossible. Mikasa took another step back, forcing her feet into a more solid stance despite the fresh wave of protest from her injured ankle.

"I'm telling the truth," Annie insisted. She drummed her fingers against her stake as she spoke, as if its mere presence somehow landed her words credence. "A new slayer is called when the old one dies. Normally that would mean that there's only one at a time, but..." Her lips pressed together. Now it was her turn to look suspicious. "I suppose I'm the one who should be asking questions," she finished.

"She's right," a voice said from behind her, soft, contemplative, maybe even a touch mournful.

She didn't need him to remind her of that. The thought was already dancing around within her, forming a lump in her throat and clawing at the backs of her eyes. Nonetheless, Eren whispered, "you died, Mikasa. Remember?"

Of course she did. The memory had been lapping at her heels for the past several days, relentlessly haunting her in those few moments that she laid down to sleep. It had been easy to brush it off as a combination of guilt and exhaustion. Now, however... Erwin had told her that slayer's dreams tended to be more meaningful than most. She had assumed that it didn't apply to memories, but as she stared Annie down, she wondered if she might have been drowning in her dreams for a reason.

Assuming that Annie was telling the truth.

"Who's your watcher?" Mikasa asked, not daring to drop from her stance or come any closer.

Annie blinked. "Watcher?"

"From the watcher's council," Mikasa pressed.

"Oh." Annie frowned. "I didn't... know that was a thing."

Mikasa pursed her lips. In theory, that probably shouldn't have boded well, but... Erwin had found her less than three months ago, even though she had been called years before that. Everything she knew about being the slayer prior to his arrival had been cobbled together from encounters with various demons after she was called. That much, there had been no denying.

The council was supposed to guide the slayer and help combat against the forces of darkness, but they had already failed once. What were the odds that the council would have found a second slayer when they had no idea that they were even looking for one?

Had the council really been so incompetent that they left her to go through the same thing as her?

Mikasa's expression remained guarded and unreadable as she continued. Meanwhile, Annie was visibly trying to do the same, but she couldn't quite hide the whisper of anxiety making its way against her expression. Eventually, she broke and asked, "will your watcher help treat your injuries?"

He would if she went to him.

She didn't want to. That wasn't Annie's business though.

"Does it matter?" Mikasa asked. As she spoke, she went to shift her stance a little, her muscles growing stiff from being trapped in the same position for so long. That was a mistake. She was hit by a fresh wave of dizziness from her head and discomfort from her ankle, causing her to stumble a few centimeters. It was a very slight misstep, but Annie caught it, her lips dropping into a slight frown.

"You're dead meat out here in this state," Annie said. "If they won't, then let me help you."

Mikasa stiffened. She turned her head, almost imperceptibly - just enough to catch a glimpse of Eren lurking a few paces behind her. He hadn't been there to watch the vampire go for her, but he was here now. Did that mean that some part of her sensed that she was out of danger? Or had he showed up because the real threat had only just arrived? Even if she was a slayer, it didn't mean that she was to be trusted. It didn't mean-

"I don't know what you should do," Eren confessed, stepping forward and looking Mikasa in the eyes. The eye-contact was brief and promptly broken off by Mikasa. As she shifted her gaze back to Annie, she thought her peripheral vision caught the whisper of some expression flickering across his face. He continued on in spite of it. "But if she planned on hurting you, I think-"

He went silent as Annie spoke, seemingly finishing his line for him. "If I was going to hurt you, I would have done it already." She paused, gaze intensifying as she looked Mikasa up and down. "I wouldn't have had to do anything. You've already taken care of that by going out in your state."

Mikasa bristled. She knew that Annie was right, painful to accept though it may be. That wasn't the thing that pushed against her nerves. It was that this woman - her apparent savior - felt the need to go ahead and point that out.

"So why did you?" Mikasa asked, voice short and clipped. "Why are you here?"

Annie answered immediately, her voice earnest despite the hint of discomfort. "Because we're both slayers," she said. "The only ones in the world, presumably." She gave a bitter smile and held her hands up placatingly, one thumb pressed down to keep her stake held in place. "I'm not saying we need to be friends, but our lives will probably be a whole lot easier if we help each other out."

It made sense. If there truly were two slayers, then in theory, they could bear to lighten their loads by half. Or do a whole lot more. But that would require both of those slayers staying alive. It made sense, and yet, Mikasa hesitated.

To her credit, Annie caught on quickly. She lowered her hands with a heavy sigh. "I'll answer any questions you have at my place," she said. "But not here, with you half dead."

Mikasa gritted her jaw.

At the edge of the vision, she saw Eren step up to stand beside her. "Mikasa, I know you're strong, but you're not invincible," he said. "You need help."

I know, she didn't say, even though she knew that she did, at least for tonight.

Instead, she unclenched her jaw, took a deep breath, and said, "fine."

***

The journey to Annie's house was silent. She didn't offer to help Mikasa walk, for which she was glad. It was already bad enough that she had noticeably slowed her pace to accommodate her limping.

"We're here," Annie murmured, coming to a halt in front of an unobtrusive little house placed on a street corner. A street corner that was only two blocks away from the cemetery. Mikasa frowned, unable to decide if the location was smart for its convenience or foolish for its risk. The frown deepened when, after a short walk up to the patio, Annie opened the door quickly and easily.

"You don't lock your door?" Mikasa questioned.

Annie shrugged. "No need."

Mikasa pursed her lips. Potential reasons for Annie's viewpoint flew through her head; she'd certainly considered them herself a few times. A slayer should be able to deal with any intruder. The odds of a home invasion were unlikely. If some thing truly wanted to get in, a mere lock wouldn't be enough to stop it. She had considered them many a time, wondered if she was just being paranoid.

Those considerations never changed her actions. She still kept her door locked, regardless of whether she was home or not. Even if it didn't stop whatever was trying to get in, it could slow them down. That was important. It was important to remember that every moment counted. It was important to remember that slayers were strong, but they weren't infallible, and with that strength came a target painted on their back.

It wasn't even just slayers. Normal people could stand to be a little safer too. Home invasions were rare in Paradis, but they did happen.

Not that Annie seemed to care.

She strode through the entryway, either unaware of Mikasa's displeasure or simply failing to care. As Mikasa bristled, the phantom that had followed them all of the way there stepped in ahead of her. "Give her a chance," Eren urged. "You haven't really met her yet."

What I've seen so far doesn't seem worth knowing, Mikasa thought. Nonetheless, she moved to follow Annie into the house, hesitating for a moment at the doorway, then walking right through Eren when he didn't get out of the way quickly enough.

It would probably be easier if she just let it slide. And yet...

"You should sti-" Mikasa's words evaporated as she followed Annie into the kitchen. There was a person in there. A tall man about their age, sitting slumped over at the island, reading a book. He looked comfortable. Not an intruder, no, he looked like-

The stranger looked up. "Annie," he called, eyes glittering with excitement that turned into concern as he noticed Mikasa. They met eyes, and Mikasa's confusion deepened. She'd seen this guy around before. Only a few times, and only at night. Quite frankly, she'd entertained the thought that he was a vampire last time she saw him. His general nervous and soft-spoken demeanor was what had made her second-guess her assessment. A good thing, she supposed, because that was looking very much impossible now. Assuming that she was right, assuming he actually-

The stranger turned his gaze back to Annie. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Bertolt, get the first aid kit," she said, a hint of a sigh in her voice.

The man - Bertolt - stood up with a nod and scurried out of the kitchen. Annie walked over to the island and set down her stake. Eren wandered over to lean against the stove, idly taking in his surroundings. Meanwhile, Mikasa just stood there and stared. This woman claimed to be a slayer, and yet...

"You live with someone?" Mikasa demanded, her voice suddenly returning to her.

"Of course," Annie said. "I couldn't afford to pay the rent myself."

"And does he-"

"-Know?" Annie interrupted. "Of course." She leaned against the island and crossed her arms, preemptively daring Mikasa to challenge her. "Bertolt and Reiner have been with me since I first got my powers."

Mikasa gaped. Meanwhile, Annie stared, not quite judgemental, but certainly assessing.

"Is your watcher the only one that knows about you?" Annie asked.

"No," Mikasa admitted. "But there were mitigating circumstances."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that there weren't with me?"

Mikasa pursed her lips. "That's not the point," she said. The point was that she avoided living with anyone, even though it meant that she couldn't afford more than a tiny apartment. The point was that she took measures to make sure that no one was truly dragged into her world. The point was that she didn't dare let Armin close enough to truly consider him her friend - or for the rest of the world to notice. "What you're doing is dangerous."

"And striking off on your own isn't?" Annie countered. As she spoke, Bertolt returned, carefully placing the first aid kit on the island and nervously glancing between them. Annie didn't so much as pause. "There are benefits to having a team."

"Do they help you?" Mikasa asked. The idea was preposterous. Annie might have been a slayer, but her roommates certainly weren't. The very demons that she could go toe-to-toe with would turn them into mincemeat. "You're putting their lives at risk."

"Maybe sometimes," Bertolt piped up. He had migrated over to a corner and was leaning against a wall of cupboards, fidgeting awkwardly. "But she's also saved our lives plenty of times too. Maybe we can only help her a little, but that's still something. And, well, I'd rather know the truth and be able to do something about it." He paused, and something in his gaze seemed to harden. "Especially since if anything happens to her, it means that everyone will be a lot less safe."

"They have a point," Eren mused.

They might have. Mikasa's head was reeling too much to really think about it right now. She thought it was because of what they were saying, but judging from the myriad of concerned and alarmed looks she received in that instant, she supposed it may have been the head wound.

"Come here," Annie said, reaching for the first aid kit.

With a small sigh, Mikasa obliged.

Once she was within reach, Annie took Mikasa and guided her onto one of the stools surrounding the island. Her touch was gentle yet firm.

Mikasa watched out of the corner of her eye as Annie opened the first aid kit and opened a packet of antiseptic wipes. She was prepared for it, yet couldn't quite refrain from wincing when Annie took one of the wipes and carefully dabbed at her head wound. The blonde didn't apologize, but she did pause for a second before slowing down in her ministrations. Before long, the first wipe was bogged down with blood and she had to reach for another.

They sat in silence this way for several minutes, Annie tending to Mikasa's wound while Bertolt and Eren stood by, human and illusion both equally unobtrusive. It was shattered by Annie saying, "the person that knows about you. It's Armin, right?"

Mikasa went stiff as a board, the distrust and alarm bells that had begun to fade from her mind making a striking return. Annie noticed and took a cautious step back, which Mikasa took as an opportunity to give her a long look, searching for any sign of deceit. She hadn't mentioned Armin to Annie. She had been very careful not to mention Armin to her, not to anyone. How could she-

"Armin mentioned her earlier," Eren remarked.

At the same time, Annie said, "Armin and I study together. He's mentioned you a few times, and you don't seem like the type to have many friends. That's all."

"Oh." Slowly, the alarms in Mikasa's head began to fade. The surprise meant that they lingered to some degree, but now that she'd been reminded, she recalled that Armin had mentioned an Annie. It added up in that sense. Annie's own conclusion, while a little insulting, was also accurate. Mostly. "He's not a friend," Mikasa murmured, allowing her gaze to drift down toward the floor.

"Right," Annie said, the corner of her lips twitching upward. "Too dangerous."

Mikasa sighed. "Are we done here, or..."

That got Annie and Bertolt to pipe up at the same time. The latter started to say, "you're still really-" only to cut himself off when he realized that Annie was also speaking.

For her part, Annie sighed and allowed her gaze to drift upwards for a moment. It wasn't quite an eye roll, but Mikasa got the distinct sense that she was tempted. "No," she said. "Not yet."

With that, they lapsed into the same silence as before; at least for a little while. As Annie was setting aside the final wipe and reaching for a tube of antiseptic ointment, the room was shaken by the distinct sound of a door opening. Mikasa's attention snapped to the entryway, and within a way moments, a large blond man walked by

"Reiner," Eren murmured in the same instant that the newcomer paused and peered into the kitchen. His eyes met Mikasa's, and for the third time that night, she found herself surprised by a familiar face. He was the guy from her trigonometry class, the one who sat next to Annie and liked to pester her.

She supposed it made sense. Annie didn't seem like someone with a bunch of friends either.

The newcomer - Reiner, if Eren was to be trusted - took a step further into the entryway. Eyes still trained on Mikasa, he said, "you're-"

"Yes," Annie interrupted. Now that Reiner had shown himself, she seemed content to return her attention to what she was doing. She didn't even bother looking up from the bottle of ointment she was opening as she spoke.

Reiner nodded slowly. "Right. And she's-"

"Yes." Annie squeezed some of the antiseptic onto her fingertips and carefully dabbed it onto Mikasa's wound.

This new distraction made it easier for Mikasa to avoid wincing this time. "They know about me as well?" she demanded.

"Of course," Annie said, voice flat. "We help each other."

Mikasa frowned, but didn't press the subject. If Annie was completely sold on involving her cohorts, fine. There was a more important question at hand, a question that she'd let wait for too long. "How did you find out about me?"

"Demons talk," Annie said. "I got a lot of comments about how I'm impossible and the slayer is supposed to be in Paradis." She closed the tube of antiseptic, set it back in the first aid kit, and began rummaging for the bandages.

"This is impossible," Reiner said. He walked over to lean against the counter beside the oven - inadvertently taking a place beside Eren, who was eyeing him contemplatively. "Everything we found about slayers said there's only supposed to be one at once." He frowned and crossed his arms. "Granted, it wasn't much," he conceded, "but it all said that a new slayer is only called when the old one dies."

"I died," Mikasa said, voice empty, refusing to let herself feel what she was saying. There was no avoiding this. At least she could get it over with sooner rather than later. "The EMTs revived me. But for a few minutes, I was dead."

Reiner's frown deepened. He looked for all the world like he wanted to say something else, but Annie shot him a look, and the expression fell away. He sighed, and a sympathetic one took its place. "I'm sorry you went through that," he said.

"Thanks," Mikasa murmured.

"Well," Bertolt interjected, the anxiety clear in his voice, "it's good that you know about each other now, at least. Maybe you can work together?"

He was right. Mikasa knew he was right. Two slayers had to be better than one, and the logical thing would be for them to help each other. However, the thought of committing to working with this woman she'd just met still made her pause.

Thankfully, Annie spoke up before she had to. "Don't make any assumptions," she warned Bertolt. Even so, as she turned back around to face Mikasa, bandage in hand, she gave her a brief, hopeful look; a reminder of her earlier offer.

Mikasa sighed. "I'll think about it," she said.

"That's all we can ask," Bertolt said.

Annie didn't comment. She opened up the package of the large bandage she was holding and brushed Mikasa's hair out of the way before gingerly pressing its edges down around the cut on her temple. This, she noticed, was less uncomfortable than cleaning her wound or applying the ointment. It was almost soothing.

With her head wound taken care of, Annie returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a roll of beige adhesive gauze wrap. Mikasa took the cue to extend her injured leg. Annie crouched down before her and deftly removed her shoe. Mikasa frowned, but didn't comment, a little embarrassed that she hadn't thought to do it herself.

Compared to the near-hesitancy with which she'd dressed the wound on her head, Annie was surprisingly quick and effective at wrapping her ankle. "You're good at this," Mikasa remarked.

Reiner laughed. "She should be! Annie hurt herself all the time as a kid."

"Reiner," Annie warned, standing up and shooting him with a flat look.

This time, her attempt at intimidation didn't have much effect. "It's true."

Annie frowned, Reiner's grin widened, and Mikasa couldn't help but stare. It was odd seeing a slayer interact with someone like this. Someone she had a personal history with, someone she was friends with. It was dangerously tantalizing for all that it was foreign.

Mikasa pulled her gaze away. "I should get going," she said.

"Are you sure?" Bertolt asked, shooting a glance at her ankle. "Annie or I could drive you."

"I only live a few blocks away," Mikasa said. She was aware that it wasn't entirely true, that the distance was probably closer to a mile and a half from this distance, but she wasn't about to say that. "It's been long enough that I should be able to walk that far." This much was true. The walk would agitate her ankle a bit, sure, but the wrap would minimize additional damage, and what she incurred would likely heal while she slept.

Annie looked hesitant, but eventually nodded.

Taking that as her cue to go ahead and leave, Mikasa stood up and took a few steps, then paused just as she was about to leave the kitchen. It took a few seconds to get the words out, but she eventually managed, "thank you. I'll see you later."

She left before any of them could respond.

***

The household was quiet for several minutes after Mikasa's departure. They all lingered in the kitchen, staring at the doorway, as if the slayer might pop back up at any second.

Finally, Reiner tilted his head back and sighed. "She's gone." He shifted to peer at Bertolt, then Annie, the unspoken 'we can speak' in his gaze.

Annie frowned. "Are you so confident that your hearing is better than a slayer's stealth?" she asked.

"I'm confident that she doesn't seem like the type to stick around and eavesdrop," he said.

"She seemed... sincere," Bertolt said. Annie almost wanted to snort upon hearing it. The impulse faded completely with his next words. "It kinda sucks that we have to..."

"Kill her?" Reiner interjected.

Unlike Bertolt, Annie managed to refrain from frowning. Even so, Reiner gave both of them a long look before pointing out, "that's the job." His voice was light and cheerful, carrying all of the ease that she and Bertolt lacked, like he was talking about getting groceries rather than killing a slayer. It crawled under her skin and made her want to try and claw it out.

That wouldn't do anything. Instead, she went for the itch that she actually had reason to scratch.

"A job that you're making harder," Annie snapped. She stood up a little straighter and walked over to stand in front of Reiner. "You didn't need to kill Mina."

"I was hungry. I weighed down her body and dropped it in the rider, so it's not like we'll get any trouble from it," Reiner defended. "Besides..." He paused, his eyes meeting Annie's. The casual air he had been maintaining dropped into something far more grave and serious. "You seemed like you were getting attached."

Annie bristled. In that second, she was tempted to call Reiner out for hypocrisy. He was ten times more social than she was; if anyone might endanger the mission through attachments, it was probably him. The trouble was that it wouldn't work, because it wasn't true. Reiner was a soulless bastard who could probably turn on his so-called friends at the drop of a penny without any trouble at all.

Then again, maybe it was unfair of her to blame his behavior on his lack of a soul. Bertolt didn't have a soul either; no vampire did. Bertolt didn't put on the same friendly act as Reiner, but he still managed to be less impulsive and cruel at the end of the day.

Maybe Reiner was just an overconfident, hypocritical jackass by nature.

There was no point in calling out Reiner's hypocrisy, so Annie settled for glaring at him and saying, "I've told you plenty of times that I don't care about anyone here that much."

"I'm just being careful."

"No, you're making excuses to be greedy."

Bertolt stepped out of his corner, a flicker of worry on his face. "Guys, do we have to fight about this?" he asked.

Annie gave him a long, tired look, which quickly turned into one of agitation when Reiner held his hands up and said, "hey, I'm not the one who's fighting."

"I'm not fighting," Annie ground out, slowly turning her gaze back to Reiner. "I'm saying that you're being stupid. You want to hunt on campus? Fine. But if you keep killing people we interact with, people will get suspicious no matter how much time you spend in the sunlight."

"She's right," Bertolt tentatively interjected. Reiner shot him a frown, and he quickly amended, "I'm not saying that you're stupid. But we can't afford to take too many risks." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm already worried about how we're going to hide my nature from the slayer. Maybe we should have come up with some sort of story."

"Like what?" Annie asked.

"Maybe we could say that I was cursed with a soul or something?" Bertolt mused.

Reiner laughed. "A vampire with a soul? How lame is that."

"It's happened before," Bertolt protested. "Although, I'm not sure if I'd be able to pull it off. It's supposed to be pretty emotionally devastating..."

"It's still ridiculous." Reiner shook his head, then waved his hand - and the ring that adorned it. "If it comes down to it, I'll just let you borrow the gem. Make sure that she sees you in the sunlight a few times and you're set."

"You're lucky to have that thing," Annie grumbled.

"I am," Reiner acknowledged. He stood up a little straighter and gave her and Bertolt a serious look, clearly trying to play the role of inspiring leader. Fun. "But we're going to need more than luck to pull this off. We need the slayer to trust us, and I doubt she's going to make that easy."

"I think we're off to a good start," Bertolt said. "She seems pretty isolated, but Annie did a good job trying to convince her she'd be better off with a team."

Annie frowned, but didn't bother pointing out that Bertolt had done most of the work. Meanwhile, Reiner blinked in surprise.

"Annie? Talking up teamwork?" He let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. "I'd pay to see that."

"Then pay," Annie said. "What I want to know is why we didn't just take her by surprise. I could have taken her out tonight if we did that."

Oh, Annie knew fully well what Reiner's convoluted logic was. They had been over this several times before. That didn't mean she didn't see the benefit in making him run through it again, just on the off chance that he might change his mind about this whole charade. She couldn't say that she felt very bad about inconveniencing him with it either.

Alas, Reiner didn't seem particularly perturbed to repeat himself for what had to be the seventh time. If anything, he looked a little smug to hear his plan out loud once more.

"Slayers know to expect attacks from strangers," Reiner said. "Unless we're able to kill her immediately, the element of surprise wears off after the first attack. But if she trusts us first? Even if she survives the initial assault, that will slow her down for a while.

"Bertolt, you're right in that you'll need to be cautious. You can help when you get the opportunity, but until it's time to act, Annie and I will need to do most the of work. As long as she doesn't find out about the Gem of Amara, I can keep her from finding out that I'm a vampire; she'll have no reason not to trust me. And Annie. Even with the state she was in, she might have escaped if you tried to take her out tonight. But if you're able to get close to her first?" Something akin to appreciation flickered in Reiner's eyes as he paused, mingling with the excitement that was oozing off of him. She ignored how it made her stomach twinge. "You're a slayer. She won't stand a chance."

Annie allowed herself to think of the strong, cold, sad woman she met today. Of how she had seemed so convinced that she had to be alone, of the flicker of hope that had shown through the distrust.

"You're right," Annie admitted. "She won't."

*****

End Notes: Alright, so. Pre-emptively, I know that Reiner is pretty OOC in this chapter. He's my favorite character in the series, so believe me, I am Aware. They are in-story reasons for this, some of which are tied to Buffyverse vampire lore and some of which will be unveiled as the story progresses. Hopefully, the payoff will be worth it in the end, but for now, all I can do is ask you to trust me when I say that I have plans.

For now though, hold on tight. Erwin gets properly introduced to the story next chapter, as well as a few other characters.

#mikannie #mikasa ackerman #annie leonhardt #annie leonhart #eren jaeger #bertolt hoover #reiner braun #snk #attack on titan #snk fic #my fic #my writing #the call #btvs au

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geirskogull · 3 years

Text

Moments of Calm - Part 1

+ Notes: 5.5 Spoilers Present in This Fic, Warrior of Light Danica Voss takes a moment to herself to perfect that strong silent type look by letting her brain get the better of her.

Archive Link

Warnings: This Chapter isn’t particularly Spicey, but overall this is NSFW

Word Count: 3k

“Finally a moment to yourself then Warrior of Light?” Estiniens voice was a cool whisper through the warm Mor Dhona night air. Unceremoniously warm, if you were to ask her, but it's tepid purple glow was relaxing to her anxious mind even if the slowly forming sweat upon skin was not. It was sticky and gross but at least it reminded her she was material. That she was present and here and no longer upon any bloody field of battle where good men go to die. Where heros place their very lives on the line for a cause they may not fully understand the weight against.

Estinien grimaced when his voice didn’t draw her eye. It normally did. Instead her lovely mismatched visage, gold and green like the sunlight through a forest canopy, gazed over towards the wreckage that was the Keeper of the Lake. Midgardsormr’s rest was temporary, as she had told him once when appraising him of what happened with Omega after Ala Mhigo’s liberation, but he couldn’t help but wonder if in moments like now when she sat silent and contemplative if she wished the Founder of the First Brood could be roused awake with a simple please and thank you.

“Practicing the Strong Silent type act you have then I take it?” He chuckled, though it felt hollow in his chest. He hoped it brought her some sort of ease. Danica Voss, Ala Mhigan Native Scion, seemed to always relax when she heard him laugh, or in general display some sort of ease from a smile to a gentle nod to just having less bags under his eyes more days than normal. He prayed it worked even when the act was false.

“Oh?” Her head snapped up finally, looking from the corpse of the primogenitor to the former Azure Dragoon. What greeted him did nothing to put ease in his heart, well... nothing had recently if he was being honest with himself. And as he liked to view himself a realist, he liked to believe he was honest with himself. Her eyes were red and the bags under them outpaced his own. Exhaustion sat in those once brilliant blinding eyes. And that smile that saw such good in him, even as he existed as nothing short of a monstrous creature of vengeance, was nothing but a faint dim twitch at the edge of her lips.

“Sorry, lost in thought.” She chuckled and he knew it was as false as his own. The smile that grew on her face didn’t reach her eyes and only the rhythmic kicking of her feet against the edge of the cold stone roof paced with her true anxiety. Fast and surprised. He’d caught her off guard, and that was never a good thing.

“Lost in thought and yes, a moment to myself. And before you ask, no you're not interrupting.” In fact he was a welcome interruption. Her mind had grown to lingering on her fears. On this new threat, Fandaniel and his odd Lunar primals. Once more the ever present threat of universal extinction was on the horizon and she’d only just returned.

“I need to steal my rest where I can no? Otherwise there's no rest for the wicked.” And by the gods, she needed to rest. Every movement now was like a forced march, and her heart could only take so much. Her eyes dipped away from his own greys as a familiar escapist thought crossed her mind. Fray had offered her Freedom from this once.

“Or Righteous, as it seems more often the case for you these days Lady Voss.” He chimed, turning his back to her to place his spear near the door. Close enough that even on this roof he need just think and grab it without having to run, but far enough away that it was in no way capable of interrupting any gentle thoughts either might have. Her eyes widened a spell at his words, and he heard an honest snort of a giggle echo through the empty night air. The melody brought a true smile to his face in turn. She was still there, but tired.

“Oh please, don’t call me that. I’m not some noble lady of Ishgard.” The faint flush on her cheeks in the moonlight was enough to tell him she didn’t really mind, but was just caught off guard.She turned away and motioned away with her hand, and he found his smile grew with his pride.

“True, but you are my lady after all. Does it offend that much?” He asked, gently tilting his head as he strode closer. Gloved hand reaching out for her extended one, grasping it firmly, only to quickly intertwine his digits with her own. He let out a low, almost content hum as he approached, gently tugging at their connection to turn her form round.

“Not if you sit next to me.” She answered, pulling upon his own hand, dragging him towards the edge. How long had it been since they last saw each other? Traveled by one anothers side? Her endless optimism and hope tempered by his realism. Azure Dragoons together.

Too long, he decided, flipping her hand over and bringing the back of her hand to his lips. A simple yet dated action, unlike him in any other circumstance but uniquely correct here. Alone. At the top of the Rising Stones. Not a soul to see the way his eyes warmed with a deep fondness when they returned to her own. Nor the growing toothy smile on her face, and the light slowly entering her eyes as she felt at Home.

“I suppose I can do that.” He chuckled, letting go of her hand only momentarily to take his assigned seat next to her. Legs hanging over the edge of the roof, eyes lingering over the horizon. No wonder she got so lost in thought up here, he was almost swept away in the current himself. It had to be something about the air. Intoxicating. Or perhaps it’d just been an unending series of long drawn out days.

Words were not what saved him from the tide however. But the gentle press of her head upon his shoulder, and the wrap of her arm through his. Absently, he rested his hand atop hers on his bicep and looked down at her comfortable but still troubled eyes. Before he had a chance to speak however, she did.

“You’re home.” Her voice was but a distant whisper, almost lost on the night breeze. He blinked, taken aback, and was awaiting the inevitable ‘Where have you been?’ but -

“I missed you.” It never came.

And he found himself for a moment, unable to respond. A warmth blossoming in his chest that should have been familiar by now but always took him off guard. Of course she didn’t ask. She knew if it was important, he’d tell her. She... trusted so readily it scared him sometimes. Someone was bound to come around and see her endless optimism and dreams and kindness and open hands and hurt her for it. Wield the knife that would steal her from the world forever. Away from him.

The thought of that turned his stomach into painful knots. It had almost already happened once. Upon the Dark, with that imposter in Zenos body and that wavering sickness over her. That broke her concentration, almost killed her. He prayed like then, he’d be lucky enough to stop any blade aiming for her back but -

These were not words voiced to air. They were visible only in the churning grey storm clouds of his eyes and hers were closed to them for now. So his answer was in action and the gentle touch of his hand upon the back of her head. Cradling her form against him.

“I missed you too.”

His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, the words somehow not enough to convey exactly what he felt. His... lack of practice at this whole being a person not obsessed with vengeance thing was really starting to bite him in the ass and he hated it!

But it was enough and his worry was for naught. Her anxious kicking legs against the stone stilled, and though he could hear it, he imagined her heart did as well. She kept eyes closed and just wrapped her arms around his torso, in a firm side hug that was a welcome gift.

“Are you alright?” A question voiced later, as the moon grew higher in the night sky and the warmth turned to a faint chill. The silence hadn’t be bad. Neither of them particularly disliked silence. But it had felt empty which was odd for them. This wasn't the silence of being alone together.

“No.” She answered so instantly that it almost startled him. The matter of fact tone, the way her eyes opened only a crack to make sure none else were around to hear her answer. It was concerning. Estinien had half the mind to just pick her up and wander inside to whatever room she called her own in the Stones and wrap her in enough blankets that she’d be warm and well... That wouldn’t have done anything if she was upset beyond probably give her another reason to be upset.

“What’s wrong then?” He asked instead, taking the novel approach he’d been trying of late of using his damn words rather than sitting in a corner and hoping someone explained things to him eventually.

“Where should I begin?” There was a bitterness to her tone that he’d seen only once before. After the events in Ul’dah. After the apparent assassination of the Sultana, blame placed on the Warrior of Light and the scions, and the death of many of her friends. He furrowed his brow, trying to think of how to answer.

“The Start, I know you know I’m not the best with words so help me understand so maybe I can be better with them.” He exhaled the waterfall of words like a Coerthan avalanche and hoped she was fast enough to dodge the snowfall. Else he might have started her and he’d kick himself in the legs later.

“Well then, let me say I’ve never been alright, Estinien. I’m just very good at faking bravery until it works. I’m terrified. I’ve always been terrified that one misstep on any of our parts now can just... break the world!” She unwound her arms from him and looked despondent at her palms,hidden by the omnipresent fingerless black gloves worn with time and constant usage till the fabric upon the upright hands were paper thin. She balled them into fists, sharp nails piercing the fabric in already known locations. She’d done this sort of angry motion time and again.

“You won’t though.” He tried to console, his words not false but too easy. Not conveying the fullness of what he thought. Something he knew the moment she pulled away. Eyes open with a scared rage that he’d seen once before as well. But he tried not to think how dangerously close he came to killing her that day on the Steps of Faith.

“You don’t know that!” She exclaimed, slamming those balled fists onto her own lap in exasperation. Looking up at him with those wide terrified eyes he hated seeing. “No one does!” Perhaps it was in a way hopeful, this uncertainty in the future but it didn’t feel that way to her at this moment.

“I know I don’t, and I know normally it would be you chastising me for jumping to the worst conclusion. But...” She exhaled and he found his words lacking. Stalling and falling off, like they were broken keys on a piano that ruined whatever song he was attempting. Her eyes fell from the terror and what replaced them was a sad, accepting smile. One he’d never seen before, and hoped he never would again.

“You don’t have to say anything you know. It’s probably just good I got that off my chest.” She laughed, shaking her head at herself. It was good to air that but it didn’t deal with the problem she was well aware of. It just took the top level off the simmering pot and prevented it from overflowing once more.

“I want to, though. I want you to know that your fear is...” He pleaded, taking her hands in his one at a time, gently running a finger across her knuckles in some vain attempt to soothe her nerves that actually did a bit more than he thought it would. Her shoulders dropped and she looked away, down at the now empty streets of the adventuring town.

“It’s good. It means you’re aware of what’s on the line. It’s terrible and eating at your heart obviously, but it means you’re not blind to what's at risk for your dreams of a better future." He leaned forward, lowering his voice not out of fear that someone might dare hear the former Azure Dragoon be soft - that sort of fear died the moment he made that recent mistake in Ishgard - but out of the intimacy it provided with his head now gently resting against her own. He could see the faint tears she blinked away time and again, see the exhaustion bleeding from her brows and hear the whisper she tried to hide.

“Sometimes I wish I was...” One of those damn tears she had been trying so hard to restrain fell down her cheek in a silent sod. Leaving a clear pathway in the days dirt she had yet been unable to clear. Hells, she probably hadn't had a chance to clean herself up since the fights in Thanalan.

“If you were, you'd be no better than Ilberd." He whispered in turn, allowing an edge into his hidden gentleness at that traitor's name. The pain he had caused Voss was inexorably present, still in her heart. The trust she had for him, the one who so willingly put up with her endless questions about home without growing bored with the Half Elezen, the one who slew their people for brilliant dreams of freedom stained red with innocent blood. He shook his head, bad words really on his part given a second tear joined the first.

"I know but-" She shivered like the cold wind in the night was frigid icy blades digging into her skin, her soul even. She choked back a sob that she refused to let air. Proud. She was always proud. That much was true. “It... hurts.” She grasped at her chest balling up the ripped fabric of her shirt. She’d need to mend that later.

"Your heart is a wonderfully heavy burden to bear" He whispered, holding her in his arms firm, while one of his scarred hands gently wiped at the growing sorrow staining her tired face. It wounded him to see her so, and at this point he wasn’t sure if it was his own softness upon her or the connection they held as dragoons. “It’s so wonderful, and open. You see the good in everyone, and even when you can’t you manage to fish out the good they can’t see. It’s just so filled with love and hope for the world. So heavy with the weight of your dreams.” He continued an avalanche of words he hoped were correct. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her own.

"But, perhaps consider not bearing it alone." He released his hold on her the moment she burrowed her face into his chest. Her shaking less now, her breathing more steady but the tears falling much more readily. That worked. Thank Halone that worked. A fragile smile twitched at the edge of his lips as he brushed hair from her face. Her long tangled black waves not unlike a veil of mourning around her face. Of all those in the world, she deserved most to mourn.

Did this silence count as mourning? He wondered as he traced soothing circles upon her back as intermediary sobs escaped her, muffled by his wrinkled coat. He hoped it did. He very much hoped it did.

When she next spoke the moon was beginning it’s descent into day. How long had they sat there in silence? An eternity? Not long enough? He didn’t know. But when her hoarse voice did manage to reach his ears as she slowly looked up at him he listened.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now.” She chuckled faintly at her own words. What was she some young child demanding more time up only to realize the weight of sleep upon their backs? No. She was just tired. So tired and this had been such a long day.

“Let me walk you back then.” It wasn’t a request or a question. It was really a demand and he hoped it didn’t sound like one. Unwinding his arms from around her swung his legs back towards the safety of the hard ground of the roof before reaching out with his spear and returning it to its place on his back.

“It’s just my room Estinien, I’m not going to get lost.” She chuckled once more, joining him by standing and showing she didn’t actually mind the idea of once more threading her fingers with his and giving a tired squeeze.

“Just, please. I’ve missed you after all.” He reached for her other hand to do the same, stopping it from reaching the door that would lead into the top floor of the Rising Stones, and only a really short walk to her room. Top floor. So she could do just this. Hide and brood up high like all dragoons should.

She huffed loudly, attempting to cross her arms across her chest but they were captive and she didn’t dare free them. “Fine. Fine. I guess that’s alright, given I’ve missed you too.” She shook her head, the smiling growing by the second. Ah, little victories. Freeing but one of his hands he pushed open the wooden door and bowed. Waiting for her to walk through and drag him with her.

#ffxiv #ff14 #estinien x wol #estinien wyrmblood #danica voss

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museflight · 3 years

Text

The Call (2)

Chapter Title: Teamwork

Wordcount: 4.7k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Notes: See end of fic.

Chapter Summary: Mikasa has a conversation with Annie, and Annie has a conversation of her own.

"The slayer," Mikasa repeated, disbelief flat on her tongue. She let go of the woman’s - Annie’s - hand and took a step back. "I'm the slayer."

"I thought you might be," the woman - Annie - said. "That's why I came here. I thought-"

"No," Mikasa cut her off, already shaking her head. "There's only one slayer at a time. You're..."

A lie. An imposter. Impossible. Mikasa took another step back, forcing her feet into a more solid stance despite the fresh wave of protest from her injured ankle.

"She's right," a voice said from behind her, soft, contemplative, maybe even a touch mournful.

Assuming that Annie was telling the truth.

"Who's your watcher?" Mikasa asked, not daring to drop from her stance or come any closer.

Annie blinked. "Watcher?"

"From the watcher's council," Mikasa pressed.

"Oh." Annie frowned. "I didn't... know that was a thing."

Had the council really been so incompetent that they left her to go through the same thing as her?

He would if she went to him.

She didn't want to. That wasn't Annie's business though.

"You're dead meat out here in this state," Annie said. "If they won't, then let me help you."

"So why did you?" Mikasa asked, voice short and clipped. "Why are you here?"

To her credit, Annie caught on quickly. She lowered her hands with a heavy sigh. "I'll answer any questions you have at my place," she said. "But not here, with you half dead."

Mikasa gritted her jaw.

At the edge of the vision, she saw Eren step up to stand beside her. "Mikasa, I know you're strong, but you're not invincible," he said. "You need help."

I know, she didn't say, even though she knew that she did, at least for tonight.

Instead, she unclenched her jaw, took a deep breath, and said, "fine."

***

The journey to Annie's house was silent. She didn't offer to help Mikasa walk, for which she was glad. It was already bad enough that she had noticeably slowed her pace to accommodate her limping.

"You don't lock your door?" Mikasa questioned.

Annie shrugged. "No need."

It wasn't even just slayers. Normal people could stand to be a little safer too. Home invasions were rare in Paradis, but they did happen.

Not that Annie seemed to care.

It would probably be easier if she just let it slide. And yet...

The stranger turned his gaze back to Annie. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Bertolt, get the first aid kit," she said, a hint of a sigh in her voice.

"You live with someone?" Mikasa demanded, her voice suddenly returning to her.

"Of course," Annie said. "I couldn't afford to pay the rent myself."

"And does he-"

Mikasa gaped. Meanwhile, Annie stared, not quite judgemental, but certainly assessing.

"Is your watcher the only one that knows about you?" Annie asked.

"No," Mikasa admitted. "But there were mitigating circumstances."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that there weren't with me?"

"They have a point," Eren mused.

"Come here," Annie said, reaching for the first aid kit.

With a small sigh, Mikasa obliged.

Once she was within reach, Annie took Mikasa and guided her onto one of the stools surrounding the island. Her touch was gentle yet firm.

"Armin mentioned her earlier," Eren remarked.

At the same time, Annie said, "Armin and I study together. He's mentioned you a few times, and you don't seem like the type to have many friends. That's all."

"Right," Annie said, the corner of her lips twitching upward. "Too dangerous."

Mikasa sighed. "Are we done here, or..."

That got Annie and Bertolt to pipe up at the same time. The latter started to say, "you're still really-" only to cut himself off when he realized that Annie was also speaking.

For her part, Annie sighed and allowed her gaze to drift upwards for a moment. It wasn't quite an eye roll, but Mikasa got the distinct sense that she was tempted. "No," she said. "Not yet."

She supposed it made sense. Annie didn't seem like someone with a bunch of friends either.

The newcomer - Reiner, if Eren was to be trusted - took a step further into the entryway. Eyes still trained on Mikasa, he said, "you're-"

Reiner nodded slowly. "Right. And she's-"

"Yes." Annie squeezed some of the antiseptic onto her fingertips and carefully dabbed it onto Mikasa's wound.

This new distraction made it easier for Mikasa to avoid wincing this time. "They know about me as well?" she demanded.

"Of course," Annie said, voice flat. "We help each other."

"Thanks," Mikasa murmured.

"Well," Bertolt interjected, the anxiety clear in his voice, "it's good that you know about each other now, at least. Maybe you can work together?"

Mikasa sighed. "I'll think about it," she said.

"That's all we can ask," Bertolt said.

Compared to the near-hesitancy with which she'd dressed the wound on her head, Annie was surprisingly quick and effective at wrapping her ankle. "You're good at this," Mikasa remarked.

Reiner laughed. "She should be! Annie hurt herself all the time as a kid."

"Reiner," Annie warned, standing up and shooting him with a flat look.

This time, her attempt at intimidation didn't have much effect. "It's true."

Mikasa pulled her gaze away. "I should get going," she said.

"Are you sure?" Bertolt asked, shooting a glance at her ankle. "Annie or I could drive you."

Annie looked hesitant, but eventually nodded.

She left before any of them could respond.

***

The household was quiet for several minutes after Mikasa's departure. They all lingered in the kitchen, staring at the doorway, as if the slayer might pop back up at any second.

Finally, Reiner tilted his head back and sighed. "She's gone." He shifted to peer at Bertolt, then Annie, the unspoken 'we can speak' in his gaze.

Annie frowned. "Are you so confident that your hearing is better than a slayer's stealth?" she asked.

"I'm confident that she doesn't seem like the type to stick around and eavesdrop," he said.

"She seemed... sincere," Bertolt said. Annie almost wanted to snort upon hearing it. The impulse faded completely with his next words. "It kinda sucks that we have to..."

"Kill her?" Reiner interjected.

That wouldn't do anything. Instead, she went for the itch that she actually had reason to scratch.

"A job that you're making harder," Annie snapped. She stood up a little straighter and walked over to stand in front of Reiner. "You didn't need to kill Mina."

Maybe Reiner was just an overconfident, hypocritical jackass by nature.

There was no point in calling out Reiner's hypocrisy, so Annie settled for glaring at him and saying, "I've told you plenty of times that I don't care about anyone here that much."

"I'm just being careful."

"No, you're making excuses to be greedy."

Bertolt stepped out of his corner, a flicker of worry on his face. "Guys, do we have to fight about this?" he asked.

Annie gave him a long, tired look, which quickly turned into one of agitation when Reiner held his hands up and said, "hey, I'm not the one who's fighting."

"Like what?" Annie asked.

"Maybe we could say that I was cursed with a soul or something?" Bertolt mused.

Reiner laughed. "A vampire with a soul? How lame is that."

"It's happened before," Bertolt protested. "Although, I'm not sure if I'd be able to pull it off. It's supposed to be pretty emotionally devastating..."

"You're lucky to have that thing," Annie grumbled.

"I think we're off to a good start," Bertolt said. "She seems pretty isolated, but Annie did a good job trying to convince her she'd be better off with a team."

Annie frowned, but didn't bother pointing out that Bertolt had done most of the work. Meanwhile, Reiner blinked in surprise.

"Annie? Talking up teamwork?" He let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. "I'd pay to see that."

"Then pay," Annie said. "What I want to know is why we didn't just take her by surprise. I could have taken her out tonight if we did that."

Alas, Reiner didn't seem particularly perturbed to repeat himself for what had to be the seventh time. If anything, he looked a little smug to hear his plan out loud once more.

Annie allowed herself to think of the strong, cold, sad woman she met today. Of how she had seemed so convinced that she had to be alone, of the flicker of hope that had shown through the distrust.

"You're right," Annie admitted. "She won't."

*****

For now though, hold on tight. Erwin gets properly introduced to the story next chapter, as well as a few other characters.

#mikannie #mikasa ackerman #annie leonhart #reiner braun #eren jaeger #bertolt hoover #the call #snk #attack on titan

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zhuilingyizhen · 4 years

Note

Have you ever considered a time travel au? Like sizhui (+ the other juniors?) going back to when wangxian's generation was their age,, or wwx and lwj ending up in their younger bodies or smth

Ooh!!!

I have one idea, but it’s.... kinda dark? Jin Ling gets erased out of existence?

Hmmm I said no sad, but it’s like crack-sad so I think it’s okay.

So, this whole idea started when I thought “what if jingyi & zizhen, the ultimate matchmaking team, went back in time and unknowingly got yzy and madame jin together?”

Then I realized, “what if that made a big oopsie?”

Anyways, this is the “oh shit, i screwed up” kinda time travel AU. Be warned.

Jingyi and Zizhen are in the Cloud Recesses library, reading through some random books, when they stumble upon one that looks older than Lan Qiren. One of them is a journal, documenting a time traveler.

They read it, and it’s super cool! Fun! Woah!

Jingyi, thinking it probably won’t work anyway but hey, why not try? tries the tailsman with Zizhen.

Suddenly, they’re back in time.

But they don’t know that & thought they failed.

Just then, an uNknOwN Lan disciple walks in and demands to know wtf they’re doing there at this time of night!!

Jingyi is confused, bc who is this strangely familiar disciple? A new transfer?

He voices his ?? and is met with “I am Lan Qiren. Why are you imposters in here? Where did you get that ribbon?”

He’s droning on in true Lan Qiren fashion, and Jingyi and Zizhen kinda look at each other because hOLY SHIT THAT ACTUALLY WORKED!!!

They immediately get tf outta there (guess it’s their turn with the brain cell) and start checking out all the differences. Zizhen deduces that they should be forty or fifty or so years in the past, since LQR be old.

They’re wandering around for a couple days (future tailsman in Zizhen’s pocket) and have fun exploring all the different stuff.

And then, Jingyi realizes that the Wens are kinda alive. And he has a moment, where he realizes they could bring Sizhui back here!! Surely Sizhui would want to learn about his past, right?? This would be the perfect opportunity!

He may or may not have bought a Wen(tm) jewelry for his very platonic best friend, but we don’t talk about that.

And then, they meet a rando young woman practicing her sword fighting. Zizhen thinks that she feels familiar, but has no idea why.

The juniors approach her, and ask what’s up, because she be really murdering those dummies.

She introduces herself hesitantly (she’s a little sus of them), as Yu Ziyuan.

Zizhen & Jingyi definitely failed their history tests, because they don’t know who she is, only that she’s very gay for her friend.

And Jingyi and Zizhen hatch a plan to help this rando stranger who certainly isn’t important to the plot or anything get with the girl!

And bOI DO THEY TRY

They help Ziyuan out by suggesting flowers, sweets, even give her a template for an undying love confession!

She’s kinda cold towards them at first, but Ljy and oyzz shan’t be hindered! They persist, and she eventually asks her friend to elope with her and escape their arranged marriages.

Jingyi gives Zizhen a side eye like “whoops” but also cheer as they ride off into the sunset!! Woohoo!

Then they go back in time, and... oh boy. Shit happened. Time rippled. The universe was changed.

Because Jingyi & Zizhen may or may not have erased Jin Ling from existence by getting his grandmothers together.

Because then those two ditch and jc & jyl are kinda not alive, though wwx still gets taken in (and maybe they pretend he’s jfm’s child so jfm can make him sect heir??)

And ljy & oyzz are shook.

And then they freak out and go to the only sane, responsible person they know: Lan Sizhui

bEcaUse sUreLy hE wOulDn’T bE diFferEnt

Actually, they search the whole Cloud Recesses, but he’s not. there. And Jingyi asks the now-old Lan Qiren, who has no clue who Sizhui is.

Then Zizhen has a brain cell moment and remembers, oh wait, wasn’t Sizhui a Wen??

They look at each other and bolt towards the Nightless City, which is not dead bc plot convience and. Maybe yzy and madame jin started their own sect and they saw through the Wen’s bs? They’re still alive tho

And Sizhui is an innocent bb farm boi in the middle of nowhere 🥺

COUNTRY BOII I LOVE YOUUUUUU

Jingyi literally tackles him into a hug and Sizhui freezes bc who da FUCC is this

But even in this timeline, he is :)) so he just kinda asks, v. politely, “who are you”

But then he sees Zizhen and lights up

“A zhen! What are you doing here?”

tHEN

Sizhui smiles shyly and kisses Zizhen on the cheek and ljy & oyzz both have whiplash

bc this is time for my zhuizhen agenda and they be dating

they have to somehow convince Sizhui that they’re from a completely different timeline

And it’s really confusing until Jingyi just starts listing off everything he knows about Sizhui, bc he is not giving up his status as Sizhui’s best friend just bc they’re in different timelines.

& the stuff Jingyi know is... a lot.

“Your favorite color is white, you hate herbal tea, you think that putting your hair down is a hassle, and when you were twelve you thought you were cursed bc two of your rabbits died in a week and placed stone tablets near every door in the dorms—”

Sizhui is kinda shook so he goes with them, though he doesn’t believe them at first. And he ain’t letting his bf (oyzz) leave immediately :/

Sizhui helps them with the ritual, and lets them leave. Then, he goes home to his peaceful farmer boi life, confused.

They have better luck next time they go back and don’t help anyone. They don’t do anything extreme, and they don’t do anything! Right?

Yeah no, cause zizhen sees this little, dirty child out in the streets and goes uwu and gives the child some money (and maybe a motivational speech?? life changing??).

That child grows up to be Jiggy, bc ofc ofc, and he and his mom manage to use to money to leave (I mean, sect heir oyzz has to have a decent sum, and it was worth more back then). Jgy becomes a respected vendor, hating his dad like every other child of jgs but still living da peaceful life.

So he never helps them with the Wens. And the Wens may or may not win. (honestly I don't remember the plot of mdzs, so this is probably inaccurate. I gotta reread it; my memory’s trash lol)

A lot of people get dead. Zizhen is horrified.

This time though, WQ and WN stole baby WY and left. The Wens,, didn’t really care (maybe they noticed wq left, but they have other, not as competent, healers).

They seek refuge, but the Cloud Recesses is kinda burnt and the Jiangs ain’t looking so hot either (plus that ain’t a good idea, jc is probably not ok with that)

They don’t bother to check up on anyone this time.

Zizhen and Jingyi go back to the past, stare at each other in true mamma mia, here we go again fashion.

But this time, they dig a hole in the ground and hide there for a couple minutes, before finally, finally, finally going back to the future

And it’s fine, except they screwed up and ended up a little too far into the future.

Like, as in they accidentally time travel to Jin Ling and Sizhui’s marriage fast-forward.

Revelations are made, and this has somehow worn even Jingyi to the point of exhaustion (also, is there any world where he gets to be with a Yuan??)

So they go back several years, energy depleted, and end up right where they started.

Zizhen and Jingyi look at each other, and have a mini-celebration because they did it! They got back and everything seems normal so they’re gonna assume it’s their timeline.

On their way to burn the magical time travel book, they bump into Wei Wuxian.

Zizhen asks how his husband is doing, and they find out that WangXian hasn’t gotten together in this timeline yet.

Jingyi screams, and Zizhen goes to cry in a hole. They’ll be okay. Eventually.

Wow, this ended up really Zizhen/Jingyi-centric...

#lan jingyi #ouyang zizhen #lan sizhui #jin ling #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #yu ziyuan #mdzs juniors #mdzs #mdzs hcs #cql #gaystarjay #ask #addy answers asks #madame jin #mamma mia #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian

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fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

Text

the way it was - chapter 37

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1915

i can only tell you how it, how it looks from here

i think you've made up your mind

Everything about this room set Riza’s nerves on edge. The glaring white walls were bright enough to give her a headache. The decaying body across from them, surrounded by pieces of smashed armour, was creating a stench strong enough to make her gag. Riza pressed a hand against her mouth and nose, stifling it as best she could. It didn’t help much. The smell still made her stomach lurch.

Aside from the foreboding atmosphere of the room, the smirking homunculus at the other end was making her skittish. That was the same one who’d tried to kidnap her earlier, probably to use her against Roy. When they’d first set eyes on Riza, Envy flashed her a smile with teeth fully on show. It was unsettling.

“Nice to see you again, Riza,” they’d sneered at her.

In response Riza lifted her gun higher, aiming down sights to settle it upon their face.

It had been a while since she’d fired a gun. Riza wasn’t sure if she had it in her to shoot to kill someone, but she would do her utmost to protect those she loved. The wounds didn’t need to kill, just hinder, and slow them down. The thought settled uncomfortably in her gut but Riza was not naïve. The homunculi wouldn’t go easy on her just because she was a civilian. When it came down to it, she had her children and her husband to fight for. She’d fight to survive for them. Growing up she’d learned how to survive from a young age and had been forced into doing what needed to be done far too soon. Now would be no different. If they threatened to kill her, kill her family, then she’d fight back. There was no question about it. The weight and consequences of any actions would be dealt with later.

After Envy’s welcome party Roy stepped up close behind her. He placed his hand gently upon her hip to garner her attention.

“Stay close,” he murmured in her ear, before moving around her, placing himself between her and Envy.

He didn’t know just how much comfort that action provided.

Even half shielded from view, Riza never relaxed. Her gun lowered so it wouldn’t be pointed at the back of Roy’s head, but her muscles were still coiled tightly and ready to react at a moment's notice. She didn’t let her guard down.

“Got your back,” Riza replied quietly.

Still facing away, Roy’s head bobbed once. Taking that as a sign he acknowledged her, Riza turned her gaze to the rest of the room. Her eyes skipped between everyone in front of her, making sure Edward was all right.

The strap of the rifle Breda had presented to her threatened to slip off her shoulder, so Riza shrugged it back into a comfortable place. She didn’t see the need for her to have two weapons however she had to admit, she did feel more comfortable with the rifle. That was what she’d grown up with and it was a comfort to know her preferred weapon wasn’t far away. Not that she wanted a weapon at all, but Riza knew these people could very easily kill her. She didn’t want to be left defenceless. Not when she had two children waiting for her to come home.

Finally, returning to the conversation, Riza turned her attention to Envy. They smirked maddeningly and Riza’s stomach twisted.

“Congratulations, Colonel Mustang. You’ve finally hunted down your culprit.”

Her stomach dropped.

Envy’s body glowed bright red, changing and morphing into -

Gracia.

They’d… They’d killed Maes… Using Gracia’s face...

The gun in Riza’s hands dipped to point at the floor with her shock. Riza didn’t even realise. She was too stuck on the revelation that this was the person who’d killed one of her dearest friends. They’d taken a loving father away from a child, left a woman widowed… Made him think his own wife had killed him -

“That’s enough.”

Bile crawled its way up Riza’s throat, but it stalled when she saw Roy move. Her head snapped to face him, seeing his whole body shaking with…

Rage.

Gloves were tightened over his hands and all Riza wanted to do was reach out, place a hand on his shoulder, and jerk him back, out of reach of Envy. Anything to break his concentration. Envy was taunting Roy, playing with him, and it caused Riza’s fear to skyrocket. Roy had already been volatile enough about this topic of conversation at home. He didn’t need to be teased further about Maes’ murderer. But Riza was frozen in place. Her brain was still trying to process that this was who’d murdered Maes Hughes.

Roy walked toward Envy so Riza lifted her gun, training it on Envy’s form now that Roy had stepped out of her line of fire. She swallowed thickly, past the lump in her throat.

“This one is mine, and mine alone.”

Her breath caught, eyes nervously shifting over to look at Roy again.

Please… Please don’t do anything reckless, she pleaded inside her head.

“Mrs. Mustang, do you really think the two of you -?”

“Edward, go.” She shifted her grip on the gun. The day was not won, and they still had a job to do. Edward still had his own goals to achieve. “You’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Are you sure?”

“She said go, Elric,” Roy snapped.

Riza frowned at the back of his head, affronted by his tone. Still, she wanted Edward out of here. Riza felt the same way about the young girl standing by Scar too. She was sure they were more than capable, but her maternal instinct was clawing its way to the surface. She could handle Roy, and they had somewhere better to be.

They walked by without incident. Envy glared as they passed but made no move to stop the group. Their tongue was still smoking after Roy had snapped earlier, burning it to stop them from talking.

“You go too -”

“She’s not getting to leave,” Envy sneered. “No,” they smirked, “I think she can stay here with you and watch how you work, Colonel.” Envy snickered to themselves and Riza’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Before Roy could open his mouth to reply there was a deafening crack of energy.

The pistol fell limp by her side. Riza’s mouth parted in complete shock, brain struggling to comprehend what was in front of her.

Envy had changed shape completely. The massive form of a green… She didn’t even know what to class it as. It was no beast she knew of, more a culmination of numerous beings all mashed together into one. The human bodies and faces that pressed out from the green skin almost made her vomit. It would be naïve to think they weren’t real people stuck inside there but… Riza couldn’t help but hope beyond hope. A foolish hope, but enough to keep her sane for the moment. It was enough to keep her breakfast in her stomach and stop the horror from keeping her completely frozen in place.

Her fear about running from the imposter at her front door was validated in that moment. Initially she’d been compliant so she could avoid any kind of conflict as the homunculus’ powers were unknown. Seeing this new form in front of her Riza was really damn glad she hadn’t fought it. Those massive paws could end her life in one playful swipe.

“I’ll give you the fight you’re looking for Colonel, seeing as you’ve been so relentless in your search for Hughes’ killer. However, I can’t exactly tread lightly in this body so you better -”

Envy’s eyes erupted into flames. Riza balked at the show, their howl of agony slicing through her entire body and making her shudder.

“What’s it like having the fluid inside of your eyes boil? I’d imagine it might sting a little,” Roy stated coldly.

Riza turned to look at her husband. Dread prickled over her skin, lifting the hairs on her arms, and turning her blood to ice. Horror roiled inside her chest, squeezing her heart painfully and making her break out in a cold sweat.

Enraged, Roy didn’t relent on his assault and Riza could only watch on, terrified.

This was the power she’d unleashed upon the world. These flames had ravished the desert, razing it, and destroying everything in its path. Riza was well aware of this, had discussed it with Roy years ago, but had never seen it at work.

“I think she can stay here with you and watch how you work, Colonel.”

Envy had already known of Roy’s destructive power.

Shortly after they were married, he’d playfully lit the fireplace with it, used it to light the gas on the cooker – sometimes with almost disastrous results – but after Ishval the gloves were neatly tucked away inside a drawer and were never brought out except for when he went to work. He never wore them again inside their home, taking his time to coax a fire from the coals on their hearth, or almost burn his fingers with a match.

This was the power that had torn him apart once before, it was threatening to do it again.

Riza couldn’t let that happen.

Envy’s massive form shifted, their tail swinging to hit the wall beside them. The force of it blasted rock towards Roy and Riza’s heart lifted into her throat.

“Roy!”

His hands lifted to in front of his face to try and shield it, but she lost sight of him as more stone flew by and dust filled the room. Riza crouched low, feeling grains of stone scrape gently across her hands as she covered her head. Luckily, she was out of range of Envy’s attack.

“You coward!” Roy barked.

She heard footsteps against the stone floor, running. As the dust cleared she saw her husband running towards the door Edward had walked through, and Envy was nowhere to be seen.

“Roy, wait!”

She was desperate. Riza took a step towards him. She’d heard the fury in his voice, saw the inferno of hate inside his eyes before he’d attacked Envy. In her mind she was silently begging Roy not to run headfirst into something he’d regret. But she never got a chance to voice it aloud.

“You stay here where it’s safe,” he called over his shoulder, running towards the door. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m going to take care of Envy myself,” he spat.

She hated hearing the fury in his voice. That wasn’t the Roy she knew. This wasn’t the doting father who laughed and cherished his children. Riza knew his time in the military hadn’t been sunshine and roses. It had been difficult and cruel, but this was something else entirely. He was changing, teetering on the edge of morphing into… into a monster. If pushed enough he just might. The realisation of it cut deep into her chest, making it ache as she exhaled.

Her shoulders slumped as she stared after his retreating form. She felt momentarily helpless –

Riza frowned. As if she would stay and let him run off to fight Envy alone. The irritation and anger she’d felt festering during their last argument about him seeking revenge and justice came hurtling back. He was losing it, but he’d already said he didn’t want to become a monster again. Riza wouldn’t let him.

The pistol was gripped tightly in her palm. Riza started moving and picked up her pace to a run. Her gun was cocked and ready.

As she walked through the tunnels she’d heard the explosions, heard Envy’s distant screams. Riza was on high alert. The blasts and the screaming eventually stopped but she wouldn’t let her guard down until she knew for certain Envy had been defeated. The sudden lack of them made her wonder if Roy had already defeated and delivered his justice to Envy, but she held onto the slim hope that maybe they’d just escaped. She clung to it desperately.

Footsteps were approaching her current position. They were in the hallway ahead, heavy but steady as they walked. Ducking, she hurried as quietly as she could to the opening where the tunnel she was in opened up into another. Gun poised and ready, she waited for whoever was approaching to come into view.

At the last second, Riza spun out and swung her gun, lifting it so it came face to face with -

Roy.

She blinked at him, surprised to have seen him so soon. Her shoulders fell with relief and realisation but paused when she saw the dark look in his eyes. His stare was hard as he looked down on her.

A seed of doubt planted itself into her mind when he remained, poised to snap at her, for a moment longer. He should have recognised her right away...

Was this…

Unless he thought she was Envy.

“I told you to stay behind, Riza.” Roy straightened his posture and lowered his hand to his side. His hand relaxed and went limp.

“I wasn’t going to let you face this alone. I already told you that.”

Riza thought he might argue with her, stating it wasn’t safe down here, but he just scoffed quietly and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Where’s Envy?” She rose to her feet and lowered her pistol but didn't loosen her grip.

“They outran me.” He turned away from her, speaking into the empty tunnel. “This place is like a labyrinth. You might as well help me kill them now that you’re here. Stay right by my side, Riza,” he ordered over his shoulder. “Don’t leave it.”

Without another word, Roy walked off, leaving her to stare after him.

That seed of doubt was putting down roots and sprouting slowly within her mind.

Riza started to walk behind him. He didn’t even acknowledge her.

“You might as well help me kill them”. That didn’t sit well with Riza at all.

I don’t want to get you involved. He’d told her that, adamant about that fact, when she’d offered to help Winry after she’d had a run in with Scar. He’d begged her to stop pushing for her own safety, as well as their unborn child’s.

I didn’t intend for this to happen. He’d been miserable as he reassured her of that on their couch after his meeting with Bradley. And it was me that put you in harm’s way.

This isn’t over, he’d vowed after seeing that Pride had hurt her. I swear my life on it.

Roy had never wanted her to get her involved in anything relating to his work. He’d even fought to share his plans for the day with her, stating the less she knew the better. However, she’d managed to wear him down and it had helped him to talk it through with someone, rather than shoulder it all by himself.

Before running off after Envy he’d even told her to stay where it was safe. That he didn’t want her to get hurt. Why would he invite her to help him kill Envy, when he knew that was the opposite of what Riza wanted him to do?

This was not her husband.

Riza lifted her pistol towards Roy’s head. She let out a quiet breath, ignoring the horrible imagery of pointing a gun at her husband, poised to kill.

He stopped, turning to half face her. His fringe was almost hiding his eyes, but his expression never changed. It was the same steely one he’d worn earlier when he didn’t lower his hand, despite realising it was her around the corner.

It was possible he was just being cautious but his command to help him kill Envy was what settled it for Riza.

Slowly, Roy turned back around and lifted his hands in surrender. “Do you know who your gun is pointed at?”

Riza scoffed. “Who? Don’t make me laugh. When we’re alone, my husband calls me by my maiden name. A throwback, to old times.”

She heard Roy gasp, then jump away in a flash. As he did so, red sparks erupted from his body as it morphed into Envy. “Maiden name?” Envy scoffed. “What kind of weird marriage do you two have -?”

“I lied.”

Riza fired, hitting Envy in the face with her bullet. They cried out in pain, hurtling backwards to crash into the ground. Her stomach lurched with the impact of that first shot, very aware that she’d fired at another ‘human being’. She knew they couldn’t be killed so easily but… It was still jarring.

Just like it had been after her first successful hunt as a child.

Fight to survive, Riza.

Red sparks erupted around Envy’s face, healing the wound she’d just made, repairing skin and muscle insanely fast. It angered Riza that they could heal and repair themself so easily while a friend couldn’t and had been left for dead in a phone booth in the middle of Central.

“It was nice of you to fall for it though, Envy. And now you can do us all the favour of dying.”

Riza fired again and again, almost emptying a clip into the homunculus.

“Ow! That hurts!” Envy yelled at her.

Something very green and sharp shot towards Riza, cutting into the skin of her shoulder faster than she could react. The arm that held her gun jerked out as she ground her teeth together against the pain. The way her body spun from the impact made the rifle strapped to her back lose its grip on her clothing and it slipped down her other arm. Riza caught it quickly, so fast that even she couldn’t believe it, but she was being fuelled by indignation and this being’s carelessness for human life, as well as adrenaline. With that combination, the rifle was caught easily.

Riza’s knees buckled with surprise and the sudden pain in her shoulder. One hit the ground painfully as she steadied herself, getting ready to fire. Despite the rough treatment and the recovery from Envy’s strike, she still managed to hit her target.

Envy’s body jerked with the hit, pushing them back a step with every single one until they dropped to their knees.

“You’re really annoying with that thing!”

Furious, another bolt of green disrupted the stones beneath her feet before shooting up and racing towards Riza. She stood sharply but it was too fast to dodge. It wrapped around her entire body, sealing her arms against her body tightly. It squeezed impossibly tight, restricting her ability to breathe. Gasping for a breath, Riza’s eyes bugged open wide as she was lifted off the ground. Knowing what was coming before it happened should have helped her prepare, but she was too caught off guard. She was still recovering from the sudden lack of oxygen and the pain lancing through her shoulder. She was slammed down into the concrete, the back of her head bouncing sickeningly off the stone. There was a crack as her hair clip broke and let her hair loose. The blonde strands tumbled down her back and over her shoulder, springing free from their restraint.

“I’ll dump you at his feet like a rag!” Envy cackled.

Gasping, Riza lay there as she tried to blink away the spots from her vision. They danced in front of her, but one thing did make its way into her pain addled mind, there was a quiet snap in the distance. It sounded so out of place that it caught her attention. Riza knew what that snap meant.

Envy screamed as Riza felt a sudden heat. Looking down her body Riza saw flames lick at the green appendage holding her still. They stopped far enough down that they wouldn’t harm her, but the sudden rush of flames made the skin of her face heat up.

“Roy,” she cried out, partly with relief and partly to get him to stop.

There was another snap and Envy was consumed by fire. Their screams drowned out Roy’s approach so Riza had no idea where he was.

“What in the hell are you doing to my wife?”

Riza’s head snapped up, blood running cold at the fury she heard in his voice. His face was like thunder as Roy stared Envy down. Glancing over at their enemy, Riza finally saw fear in Envy’s face. They were petrified. They’d made a mistake going after her and now there would be hell to pay.

“Don’t interfere, Riza.” His tone was softer as he spoke to her but that look in his eyes… His rage knew no bounds. “I told you I would deal with this, and I don’t want you to get involved.”

Before she had a chance to reply hell rained down on Envy, like fire and brimstone. Roy snapped and grunting, letting out all of his fury as he sent attack after attack at the homunculus to drain their power. It blew her hair away from her face and the intensity of the heat almost made her turn away.

All Riza could do was stare. She felt numb.

He’s going to kill them. He’s giving into that hatred.

She had to do something. She had to move.

Struggling to her feet was a great effort. Riza felt herself stagger. She was almost knocked backwards by the force of Roy’s alchemy and her head was still spinning from the hit she’d sustained after being slammed into the ground.

After one last ferocious blast Envy’s body started to disintegrate. It crumbled into a charred mess, leaving a tiny green creature in its place. Their voice turned almost child-like as they cursed Roy, crawling away from their own remains with tears in their eyes.

Roy approached and lowered his foot harshly atop Envy’s body. They were squashed underneath his boot, almost crushed completely. Any slight increase in pressure and they’d be dead.

Like hell Riza would let Roy do that to them.

“So this is your true form then?” The growl in his voice almost made Riza sick.

Stop… This isn’t you, Roy… Stop it, please.

“You’re ugly.”

Envy whined, begging for Roy not to do it, just like Riza was in her mind.

“I don’t want to die!” Envy cried desperately, tiny limbs flailing frantically.

It was too much for her to take anymore. Catching herself on the wall, Riza shoved herself so she was standing.

“I’m not giving you a choice. Now burn in hell!”

His fingers snapped together. Riza lifted her weapon, cocking and pointing it at Roy’s head, as her heart broke clean in two.

“Roy!”

Her yell echoed around the tunnel, bouncing off the walls with such clarity even she didn’t expect it. In the lull of the explosions the world sounded eerily quiet. Roy’s quiet gasp filled it once he realised what she was doing. His body stilled, his foot easing slightly on Envy’s body underneath his boot.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone was harsh but genuine surprise had seeped into it as well.

“Stop this,” Riza commanded, putting as much authority into her voice as she possibly could. Her gun shook in her hand, the grip slacking. No. She couldn’t let herself slip now. Not after all they’d already been through with this discussion. She wouldn’t let him talk to her like that either. The grip on the gun tightened. “I’ll deal with Envy from here on out.”

“Riza. Lower your weapon,” he ordered with the same authority she’d heard him use with his team at work.

Riza was no soldier and had to follow no such order. She was his wife, she loved him, and she’d made a promise that she’d watch his back and watch out for him always. He’d asked her to do that and she wasn’t about to let him down.

If I lost myself to all of this… That’s not the husband or father I want to be. I don’t want to be a monster again.

I choose you. I choose all three of you. There’s no contest and never has been.

He’d picked his side, that night in the darkened bedroom, and she wasn’t going to let him back out now.

“No. Put your hand down, Roy.”

He scoffed. “I won’t ask you again!” He shouted, almost startling her. He’d never used that tone with her before, never been so angry towards her like this. It didn’t even sound like her husband. The barrel of the gun quivered.

There was the sound of a transmutation and the ground beneath his foot was alchemised, disrupting their conversation. It rose up sharply to throw Roy off balance and send Envy sailing through the air. They were both startled out of their argument by the sudden appearance of Edward Elric and Scar.

Edward plucked Envy out of the air effortlessly, gripping onto them tightly with a scowl on his face.

“Fullmetal.”

Riza’s head turned sharply back to face Roy, noting how much calmer he sounded. But it was all a ruse. He hadn’t changed one bit. The fists at Roy’s side began to shake with his fury. One of his arms extended outwards towards Edward.

“I’ll be taking that.”

Edward was surprised by the request, seemingly unsure for a second. He glanced over at Riza and she shook her head the tiniest fraction.

“That is an order. Give them to me, right now!”

“No, I won’t,” Edward refused and Riza felt herself relax the tiniest amount.

With a controlled movement, Roy’s arm lowered. Alchemic energy still sparked around his gloves, a sign that he hadn’t given up the transmutation yet. He still needed to decide where to direct it.

Not at Edward and Envy, Riza pleaded. She couldn’t take it if he did.

“Elric,” Roy growled. “That thing belongs to me.”

“No they don’t!”

“Give them to me! Or I’ll burn up your hand along with it!” Roy’s hand twisted, pointed towards Edward.

“Roy!” she scolded, outraged that he’d threaten such a thing, and to Edward of all people too.

He’s almost gone, Riza. Do something!

Edward wasn’t one to give in so easily either, though. He interrupted before Riza could recover from her burst of anger. “Try it then!” he goaded, daring him.

Roy fell silent as he and Edward glared at one another in a standoff.

“Think of our children, Roy,” she commanded, trying another way to get through to him. It had worked before so she hoped it would again. Although Riza tried to keep her voice strong, one mention of them almost broke her. Her voice cracked and she was almost pleading with him as she spoke his name. “Remember what you said to me when we discussed this before. Don’t give into this,” she begged. “Remember that you’re letting go for them, as well as yourself.”

“What would Mia ask you to do?” Edward’s voice rang out in the tunnel, adding onto her point.

Roy’s shoulders stiffened and she heard him inhale sharply. “Stay out of this, Fullmetal,” he warned harshly.

“What would Maes ask, huh?” Edward continued on as if he hadn’t heard Roy speak. “What would those kids say to finding out their father gave into anger and hate and killed this homunculus!” Edward was spitting angry, furious that Roy was even considering such an act, but was desperate to get through to him as well. Riza could see it in his eyes. There was fear in them too. “If it were me I certainly wouldn’t want to look at you again!” Edward yelled. “You look like a monster!”

“I know I have no right to tell you what to do, Mustang, but they are correct.” Scar’s deep and calm timbre rolled through the air, settling over Riza, and making her loose another breath from her lungs. Hope swelled within her that maybe the three of them would be able to get through to him together. “You’re a father and you need to set an example. Do not cause any more death than you already have. End this cycle of hatred,” Scar snarled, “do it now. Break the chain. Otherwise you’re no better than a beast and those that have come before you. And I shudder to think what kind of world you will create after you become its ruler with all of that hatred burning inside of you. I dread to think what kind of father you will be.”

Roy’s body stiffened.

“Roy.” She brought his attention back to her. “This is not who you are.” Her voice was controlled as she steadied her weapon. She knew the Roy she loved was still within him but was buried underneath the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within. He had to be. Riza wouldn’t accept anything otherwise.

His shoulders tensed. “Riza… I did it,” he growled. “I finally ran them down and they’re right there. They attacked you –”

“I understand that,” she barked harshly. “I know you did, and I know what happened, but you’re about to do something you’ll regret here and I won’t let you. You’re better than this. I know you’re better. I know the man I love, and he’s not here right now.”

His shoulders jerked up towards his ears.

“This course of action benefits no one. All it will do is hurt the ones you love.” Riza took a deep breath. “This is pure hatred. And I will not let it take you. I already told you that. I already promised I wouldn’t let you do it!” Her cry rang out in the silent hallway.

He was struggling, teetering on the edge, but he was listening to her.

“Would you really shoot me with that gun, Riza?”

Her breath caught tightly in her throat, choking her. What… What was he asking her?

His tone changed completely, along with his body language. His shoulders relaxed and he let out a long breath. He sounded calmer, that edge to his voice gone. He almost sounded defeated.

He still didn't let go of the transmutation though.

“If you’re going to shoot me, shoot me.”

It was just a threat, really. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to kill her husband if he actually went through with this. She was no soldier, had taken no human life, and Riza wasn’t sure if she was emotionally stable enough to hit her target regardless of that.

But would she be able to live on with him, knowing that he’d become the monster he didn’t want to be, but had sought out that path anyway?

“Maybe not,” she admitted quietly.

She’d only been able to target Envy because she knew they wouldn’t die. That first pull of the trigger though… It was jarring, horrifying. When she’d fired a gun before it had been for food, for survival. This fight was a way to try and keep her alive, but she gained nothing from each hit. Just the sickening realisation that she was harming another living thing and gaining nothing from it.

“Maybe I can’t pull that trigger on you.” Despite the turmoil rattling her bones her voice held steady. Sorrow bled into her tone, shoulders dipping as her resolve to point the weapon at him wavered. “I couldn’t do that to you. Couldn’t do that to our children either,” she added, bile rising at the thought of taking their father away from them, regardless of their current conversation.

Memories flashed inside her mind. Roy lifted Mia high in the air, spinning her round as she giggled with glee. Maes’ happy squeals filled the room as Roy blew raspberries on their little boy’s arms, tickling him. Hayate barked happily in their garden as she, Roy, and Mia chased each other in a game of tag on the grass. Little Maes clapped his hands happily as he watched, sitting on Chris’ lap.

Riza clenched her jaw to stave off the sudden tears and keep a hold on her emotions. She wanted that Roy back. She just wanted her husband back.

“But I’m doing what you asked me to do,” Riza replied with more confidence this time. “I’m watching your back. You told me you didn’t want to be a monster again. Don’t give into it. Mia wouldn’t want you too.” Her voice wavered. She cleared her throat to try and shift the lump in it, but it was futile. “Little Maes wouldn’t want you to either. Neither would Big Maes.”

Roy’s head jerked suddenly, no doubt remembering their conversation in the dark in their bed. He’d held her close that night. She remembered pressing a kiss against his throat, feeling his pulse thrum beneath her lips.

“I…” The words stuck in her throat, halting her. They needed to be said because they were true, no matter how much it hurt to think about. She needed to get through to him and the hope that she could was dwindling second by second. “I don’t think I will be able to live on with you if you do go down this path.”

Roy flinched violently.

“I can’t follow you down it. Our family can’t. And I refuse to leave our children behind.”

He let out a choked breath. Suddenly, Roy’s hand jerked out and with a yell, the fire torpedoed down an empty hallway, filling it with heat and his anguish.

He didn’t do it.

Riza had never felt such strong relief in her life. A choked breath left her lungs, stuttering as it passed by her lips. Her knees shook and her pistol trembled in her hand. She almost lost her grip on it.

“I… I can’t afford to lose you. Or them. This madness… Scolded by a child and a man who was once my enemy.”

Roy turned to face her and Riza felt hope blossom tentatively at the look in his eyes. All his hatred was gone. A deep exhaustion had settled over his bones and it showed clearly in his expression. The features of his face drooped, eyes filled with so much regret and agony that Riza almost lost her breath. He was broken, defeated by himself, but he was Roy.

“And you.”

Tears flooded his eyes. Roy’s touch was gentle when it rested upon her gun. His hands were bare, gloves gone. Riza was unsure when that had happened, but it didn’t matter. The fact remained that he’d unequipped his weapon and taken that step away from where he was threatening to fall over the edge.

Riza watched completely mute as they both lowered the gun to her side slowly.

“It almost cost me you. I forced you to go through all of this. I pushed you away. My love,” he breathed, so quietly only she would hear. “My children. I would have lost it all.” Roy cleared his throat, dropping his gaze in shame. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered. “I did it again. I’m such a fool,” he cursed in disgust, dropping his gaze. He turned to the side as his knees shook. He fell to the ground, finally spent, with his face hidden by his hands.

Relief made her body shudder and tremble. The pistol grew slack in Riza’s hand and dropped to the floor without her realising it. She joined him, kneeling by his side. Pain shot into her kneecaps after she fell, hitting the ground hard enough to make her wince. Her old injury with her fight with Envy flared up but Riza paid it no mind. All of her attention was focussed on the side of her husband’s head. She stared, knowing she wouldn’t be able to discern anything from it, but still looked upon those dark strands as if they would give her all the answers she sought.

Tentatively, Riza reached out. Her hand hovered before the space in between his shoulder blades. It was an action she’d done numerous times when helping him through his low points. She wasn’t sure what his mental state was. She had no way of knowing until she took the first step and made contact. Her fingertips pressed down first, lightly, before the heel of her hand kissed against his back. She watched, saddened, as his shoulders bunched up further at his ears, head dipping down. He was hiding from her.

“Roy?” Her call was apprehensive. She just wanted him to turn and look at her, give her something to go on. But he didn’t.

Shifting on her knees, Riza angled herself around him so she was kneeling by his side. Her hand naturally moved to come to rest on his shoulder. She gave it a squeeze of comfort and encouragement.

“Roy, look at me,” she prompted gently.

Unable to bring himself to, his gaze remained on his feet which were crumpled underneath his body at odd angles.

“Roy.”

It was just enough coaxing. The hand that covered his eyes moved a fraction. His eyes were desolate once they made contact and barely visible as he peeked up at her through a gap, filled with shame and sorrow.

“You didn’t do it,” she reminded him.

“I was close.” His voice was a whisper, only loud enough to reach her ears. “I - I saw you being hurt… And thought about what had happened to Hughes and –” His sigh made his whole body shudder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

Riza gathered him close, placing her cheek against the top of his head. Her arms wrapped around his shaking frame, bringing his face against her chest to hide him from the rest of them. Just for a moment, she wanted it to be just them, to have a tiny moment to themselves so she could get him back on his feet.

“You’re all right for now. You came back to me,” she whispered into his hair, focussing on that fact at the moment. The day was not over so everything else could be left until later when they were alone.

Slowly, hands lifted to her hips and held on. His fingers dug into her sides almost painfully. Then, the arms wrapped around, squeezing her against him. Her fingers ran through his hair as relief made them shake, thankful that for now, the worst of the confrontation was over.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes #tentatively posts #i used up all my brain cells editing this to the point where idek if its good or makes sense anymore lmaoooo #i will never be able to compete w the mastery of arakawa but i think this is a relatively decent attempt #apologies in advance my dudes

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sketchyracoon · 4 years

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I may have lost any semblance of control on my life i had before. Among Us AU details under the cut.

Many of them have accents. I had the idea that they were from a big like multi-country space project and fell in love with the idea of the American(s) on the ship just startling the others because of things like the lack of bidets in the US.

Red (Elliot) is 38, is a Texan and you can tell he says Ya'll as a descriptor and many of the others are slightly fearful of the way he mashes words together. his whole personality can be summed up with "I'm a cowboy baby" and the fact that he's angy.

If I'm honest he is the only American on board that really startles the other crewmates even the other Americans are like "hey dude chill".

Orange (Herbert) is 27 probably from France (haven't really decided yet) and he was more confident before shock horror bad things happened to the whole crew. (More on that at five). Herbert is also very easily overwhelmed, he tries to pay attention but is often confused. I’ve also decided to change the egg on his head to be a hat in the future but I decided that after I drew the egg.

Pink (Eun-Jung) is 29, South Korean but he got some schooling in Britain and has probably traveled a lot. He looks soft but he can and will throw a mean punch. He and Herbert have crushes on each other but they kinda put it to the side when shit went down. There have been many times however when Eun-Jung has sat down with Herbert and calmed him down and dried his tears.

Green (Philip) is one of the younger crewmates being 22, he's a very studious lad he loves adventure novels and always wanted to go to space.

Especially after watching shows and reading books about space. He keeps trying to get together group DND nights but it's very hard for him to cater to everyone's interests cause he's the kind of DM that wants everyone to have fun but he also has a lot planned for a session but nothing ever happens because everyone is always goofing off. He still has fun tho and so does everyone else.

White is Angie, If I'm honest I named her that because of the halo she's wearing, and I thought it'd be funny. She is a not so single once single mother who lost her husband when her kid was born. She used to live in England but moved to Ireland for new scenery and for the space project.

She and black (Jolene) met in school and quickly fell in love. They Are Married! And the whole crew hates (loves) how sappy they are. Angie is stubborn and strong but also very kind and level-headed, she's not easily overwhelmed like Herbert is but when she does get overwhelmed, she doesn't crumble like he does. Doesn't mean her wife doesn't comfort her tho.

They both are in their late forties (Angie is 48 and Jolene is 49) and I named Jolene, Jolene because of the song. Jolene is Irish btw idk if I made that clear. And she is the definition of a chaotic lesbian, Angie tries very hard to keep her air of being a distinguished bi but she's also very chaotic at heart. They both are greying hair-wise but Jolene keeps covering it up with dye. Jolene thinks her wife looks very elegant with the white in her curls. Jolene can be summed up with that one Tumblr post story about a girl who told a girl she liked that "her air must be mad crisp" because of her plants.

Cyan (Tea) is Scandinavian and listen this like Eun-Jung's name is where is gets shaky google wise, and if this name isn't really a Scandinavian than I guess it's just an eccentric nickname. (I’m assuming it’s pronounced like the drink but if I’m wrong sorry) She is NERDY AND PROUD, but like not movie nerdy girl I mean genuinely weird nerdy. I guess technically everyone is a little nerdy in this crew but she's a feral kind of scientist. She is technically the captain of the ship because of her science background and her previous work with the Scandinavian branch of the space mission. Her goggles are prescription. She is 36 and has a little crush on the resident father of two purple (Perry).

Perry is a loving dad and all-around kind dude, he fathers the group sometimes intentionally. Often taking control of making food, and sometimes the group meetings, even tho technically he's not in charge. He's an open ear to the entire crew and he loves his two kids so much. He doesn't talk much about how he and his Ex split up but it's clear that he and his kids are happier without her. He Kinda likes Tea back a little but he's so busy being a good dad that he doesn't know that. He's often found baking for everyone and is in fact the culprit behind the extra five pounds everyone gained when joining the ship. Perry is 32. His family is from India and he visited his extended family there a lot but he was born and raised in the UK.

Blue (Liz which is short for Elizabeth) is not the greatest with people, she tries her best but she often comes off weird she's 51, one of her hobbies is learning and practicing different rules to fighting styles. She’s trying to teach herself taekwondo but the lack of instructor and need to use downloaded videos is holding her back. She's got some skill in boxing and ran a self-defense course back on earth. Her entire class was sad to see her go but the respected her decision and on the off days that the ship gets reception to radio back earth or other ships she makes sure to message them back with well wishes.

Yellow (Zack) is a little shit lord, he is the youngest on crew at age 19. He got in through a series of events up to and including the fact that his parents were exasperated by him and that his Aunt Liz (who he calls Aunt Lizzy) telling them that they were short a crewmate. the previous yellow left and they were having trouble getting a fit for the crew's specific needs, everyone else was on different crews and couldn't leave to fill in their gap. They were planning to leave with nine people when Zack reluctantly signed up. He was 18 at the time he first signed up and after a year of training, he was greenlit just in time for the mission.

He doesn't really get along well with anyone but he slowly opens up to the crew overtime. He got labeled as a problem child because of undiagnosed ADHD and focus problems and by the time he was diagnosed it was too late and all of his teachers had basically given up on him.

The entire crew tho is cool with it because many of them are neurodivergent. Liz and Zack are the other Americans of the crew. But Elliot is the only one who is not bi/multilingual. Unless you count Texas accent as a language which a many of the crew jokingly do. In which case he is fluent.

But then disaster struck, after a few months of bonding and growing close as a found family people started to die. After some trial and error, they found out that Herbert and Zack were behind it. Liz and Eun-Jung being two of the few remaining both reacted differently Eun-Jung was controlled anger barely keeping it together and Liz was deeply disappointed, she wanted better from her nephew.

What was weird tho was after ejecting the pair their display panels confirmed that they were "imposters" and now that they thought about it it was weird that they were all locked to this one specific floor of this ship. but no matter that was a thought for another day. now able to go to the lower floors the remaining crew mates all went to bed.

The next morning however everyone was back and alive not even a scar remaining, even the imposters. returned. After a lot of shouting (mainly from Elliot who was pissed about being stabbed) the crew started to reluctantly trust what Hubert and Zack were saying that they didn't want to hurt or kill any of them but something made them and it was like they were in a haze.

It was only directly after a kill that they could snap out of it and control themselves briefly (kill cooldown) before they lost control again. Since then they've been stuck in this sick loop where they all keep taking turns being stuck as imposter killing each other. At first when it happened again, they thought it was Herbert and Zack again but once it didn't stop anything and the ship told them that they weren’t imposters.

They realized that it was randomized. Overtime they learned the rules. Only Imposters can access vents, the kill count, that they can then follow around and do things as ghosts after thy get murdered, etcetera. But one thing they didn't realize was the punishments.

Overtime as they each tried to break the rules by, revealing themselves as imposter, trying desperately hard to go pacifist, or any number of other things like trying to remove their helmets, or talk on comms before emergencies on meetings they were punished.

Philip is now growing plants off of himself. Eun-Jung has a similar punishment but it's solely cherry blossoms. Herbert is stuck killing everyone by eating them with a giant mouth from his stomach. I don't know Elliot’s punishment yet but the thought to make him Texan squared did cross my mind.

Angie is turning into one of those rad many-eyed angels from Dante's inferno. Jolene is now growing goat horns and her eyes are now goat-like. And Idk what other punishments to give Tea, Perry, Liz, and Zack, I want them to be related to the hats and stuff you can wear in game like some of the others but how to you punish some one using a banana? Or two kids? Or googles? I’ll probably come up with something later especially since they are all mostly hidden by the suits, that means that conceivably their punishments are hidden by the suits.

#among us #among us ocs #my art #i've lost it. bye ya'll I'm lost in the sauce #i'#I spent so much time while i drew them thinking of their dynamics and stuff and how the universe would work for optimal angst

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