#such a PROCESS I can’t believe it endured it for as long as I did

[goatskickin]

I WOULD retexture objects again, but I just really hate everything thing about the process of doing it

[arlana-likes-to-write]

I Do

Part 2 of Marry Me

Summary: It's your wedding day and as you are getting ready you can't help but remember how you got to this point. But sometimes even on the happiest days, anxiety can be the biggest enemy.

Note: italicized sections are flashbacks

Warning: Angst with Fluff, dirty talk, almost office sex but getting caught, mention of death, toxic past relationships, panic attacks, drinking

Word count: 8.8k

“I can’t believe you're getting married!” Tony exclaimed probably for the hundredth time during this whole process. “I’m more nervous than I was for Vision’s wedding,” you fought the urge to roll your eyes as you sat in front of the makeup artist. You felt bad for the poor woman who had to endure your family’s antics.

“Honey, have a drink,” Maria pushed a glass of whiskey into Tony’s hand. “You are going to stress out the bride.” You weren’t stressed. You were 100% content and ready to marry the woman of your dreams. All you had to do was get through a silly little ceremony and it would be official. You told Yelena that you would settle for getting married in a courtroom but she wanted a wedding. So you gave her a wedding.

“You look like the day you told me you had a crush on her,” Howard said, coming from the balcony with a cigar in his mouth. “All flustered and nervous. If I knew any better I’d say you were getting married.” You chuckled slightly at the light blush creeping up Tony’s face.

“Well then I learned that she was gay,” he pointed at you. “You were my first heartbreak.” You chuckled.

“I think you did well for yourself,” you smiled.

“Damn, right he did!” Pepper said and your bridal party cheered. This was the only thing you cared about, having your family together. Well, not everyone. Damn, you missed your parents.

*   

 God, you had to have a long talk with Natasha about your last drink. Your head was throbbing. At least the newlyweds had the forethought to book a place with continental breakfast so everyone could nurse their hangovers. “Someone got laid last night,” Tony said, slamming down a cup of coffee and sitting in the chair next to you. The sound echoed in your head. 

“Fuck Stark,” you groaned. “Why are you always so loud?” He chuckled at your expense. The man was never hungover, it was annoying. 

“So are you going to tell me who it was?” He took a piece of toast off your plate. “Because I’m all your boss so I will find out,” you kept your mouth shut, sipping on your coffee. “I bet it was with Carol. She eyefucks you at every gala,” you smirked. You knew the former Air Force pilot was with Val, maybe they were looking for a third. “Monica is attractive, was it her? Please don’t tell me you joined Romanoff and Barnes.” 

“Shut up,” you laughed. You sighed. “Fine I’ll tell you but you have to keep it quiet. Can you do that?” He nodded. You glared at him. 

“Scouts honor. Now come on tell me,” he whined. You smiled, biting your lip as you remembered lasted night. 

“It was Yelena,” Tony stared at you, mouth slightly open, and blinked a few times at you. 

“Romanoff is going to kill you,” he deadpanned. “At least leave me something nice in your will.” You rolled your eyes, smacking the man slightly on the chest. 

“She knows,” his face scrunched in disgust. “Oh my god, ew, not like that,” Laughing pulled your attention away from Tony and you watched as Yelena walked into the dining room with Kate and America. She was still wearing the long-sleeved shirt that you let her burrow. It made you smile. Tony hit your leg. “Sorry,” you snapped out of it. “Natasha gave her stamp of approval for me to pursue a relationship with her.”

“Why did you make it sound like a business proposition?” He asked. You huffed out a sigh, crossing your arms. “I’m kidding,” he laughed. “She’s the one that has put a smile back on your face,” you nodded. Yelena sat down at a table with her sister and her green eyes found yours, a playful smirk on her lips. You wanted to go over and kiss her again. “Well, I’m glad she’s making you happy.” 

“Yeah, she is.” 

*       

Maria and Howard asked you to join them when your hair and makeup were done. It was a light look as you didn’t wear makeup in your normal day-to-day life. So you stood with them on the balcony that overlooked the winery. “You are making me kind of nervous,” you chuckled. It reminded you of when you and Tony ‘burrowed’ Howard’s 1960 red Mustang. He wasn’t happy.

“There is nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” Maria said, sitting down at the small patio set. Her husband remained standing behind her. You sat down in front of her.

“We have a small gift for you,” you groaned. “Hey, lose the attitude squirt,” You fought the couple tooth and nail during this process. They wanted to help pay for the wedding or gift you something extravagant, but you declined both.

“It’s tradition for the bride to have something old, new, burrowed, and blue on their wedding day,” Maria explained. You and Yelena weren’t having a traditional American wedding with her being Russian and both members of the LGBTQ community but there were some things you were doing. You weren’t seeing each other until Yelena walked down the aisle, Yelena would be throwing her bouquet (you were hopping Natasha would catch it), and you had two flower girls (Lila and Morgan), and Nate and Cooper were your ring bearers.

“For your something burrowed,” Howard took off his cufflinks and handed them to you. “I expect those back in perfect condition.” he teased. You rolled your eyes but took them.

“For your something old,” Maria handed you a pin. “And it counts for your blue.” It was a blue jay pin that your mother gave her. She never took it off. You felt tears form in your eyes. “So they can be there with you while you walk down the aisle.”

“Your father gave me those,” Howard added. You choose Howard and Maria to walk you down the aisle in place of your parents. “They would be proud of you, kid,” you cleared your throat, trying to push down your emotions not wanting to ruin your makeup.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Both you. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“It has been a pleasure to watch you grow up,” Maria stood up and kissed the top of your head. “Here is something new,” she pulled out a small box and a letter. “From your soon-to-be wife. We’ll let you open it in private.” You thanked the couple and they returned to the suite as you opened the box. Inside was a new pair of earrings. They were simple golden studs with a small diamond. You smiled and put them in, now you understood why Pepper told you not to wear earrings. You opened the letter.

‘Darling, There are so many things I wish to write in this letter but I’ll keep it brief and save it for my vows. I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together. As for the earrings, Maria told me a story of a family vacation you took with the Starks around the time of your parent's passing to Cape Code. You wore a pair of earrings that your mother gave you into the ocean and unfortunately lost them. I know these won’t be able to replace the ones you lost. But I hope they provide you with a sense of comfort along with the mementos Maria and Howard gave you. I love you and see you soon.’ 

You reread the letter a few more times before folding it nicely. You fiddled with the earrings. You were a mess that trip even more so when you lost your earrings. You missed them so deeply and you wished they were here with you.

*   

“Are you sure they want me here?” Yelena asked, anxiously twisting the rings on her fingers. You were sitting in the driveway of the Stark Family Home. It was Maria’s birthday. Tonight was the small gathering for family and a few close friends and tomorrow was the bigger party. The Starks never needed a reason to party. You took her hand in yours, bringing it to your lips. 

“They asked for you specifically,” it was true. When you told Tony about your new relationship, he couldn’t wait to tell his parents. They’ve met the blonde but you knew it was at a work event when you were introducing the new group of entrepreneurs. It was different now. She was just another Stark employee now she was a Stark employee and your girlfriend. “If you don’t want to go we can turn around and we can hang out at my place.” Yelena shook her head. 

“Is Wanda going to be there?” You sighed. 

“Yes,” the blonde tensed up. “But I don’t care about her. I’m with you and she made her choice.” You haven’t run into your ex-girlfriend since her wedding and your new relationship with Yelena. But you knew she knew. Vision seemed quite interested in your relationship, especially with how it would affect the workplace. It wasn’t a coincidence that an email from HR was in your inbox regarding relationships with coworkers. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” you turned off the car and walked over to Yelena’s side to open the door for her. “My knight in shining armor,” she said, kissing your cheek. She had the small gift bag in her hand, that you knew Maria was going to be livid about. You held onto her hand as you led her up to the massive doorway. “I sometimes forget how much money the Starks have,” Yelena mumbled, looking at the house. “Tony is so..”

“Stupid, cocky, a pain in my ass,” the blonde laughed, pinching your sides. “Ouch, rude.” 

“Don’t talk about our boss like that,” she teased. You rolled your eyes, ringing the doorbell. 

“He was a brother to me long before he was chairman of Stark Industries.” It wasn’t long before the door swung open. 

“There she is!” Howard said, pulling you in a hug. Your hand was ripped out of Yelena’s hold. “I guess you only come around when you know we’ll have food.” He teased. 

“Let me go, old man,” you pushed him off of you as he messed with your hair. 

“You did not just call me old,” he gasped. You stepped into the house and Yelena closed the door behind you. “It ain’t my birthday, sweet cheeks.” 

“I’m telling your wife you said,” you smiled, fixing your hair and polo. “Howard, I would like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Yelena-”

“Yelena Belova,” the man cut you off, extending his hand for her to shake. “I know all about you. You are the reason Stark Industries is branching overseas to work with the Wakandans,” Yelena shook his hand. You saw the tension leave her body. “It has always been my dream for the company to expand so we can help more people. I’d love to hear all about it.”

“Darling,” you saw Maria walk over. “You promised there would be no talking about work.” She scolded her husband. “Hello, Yelena it’s wonderful to meet you.” The matriarch hugged your girlfriend. Over his wife’s shoulder, Howard mouthed, ‘We’ll talk later.’ 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Yelena smiled. “And Happy Birthday.” She handed Maria the gift bag. The woman glared at you but you held up your hands. 

“Wasn’t me,” you defended. “That was all her.” You were throwing your girlfriend to the wolves but when it came to Mama Stark it was for the best. Inside were two stained glass blue jays that she could hang in the window. 

“Oh, I love them. Thank you,” she hugged your girlfriend again. Your mouth hung open slightly. 

“How come when I get you a gift you threaten to kick me out of the will.” 

“Hush you,” Maria teased, lopping her arm with Yelena. “Come. Dinner is almost ready so we are having drinks in the sitting room.” Maria dragged Yelena in the direction of the room, leaving you alone with Howard. 

“Women,” he said, hitting you with his elbow. “Am I right?” You rolled your eyes. 

“You always are,” You grabbed him by the shoulder. “Come on let’s not keep everyone waiting.” When you joined the rest of the guests, Yelena was standing with Tony and Pepper. You excused yourself and joined the trio. 

“About time you showed up,” Tony teased, as he leaned closer to you. “Someone has been sending dirty looks to your girlfriend.” You saw Wanda standing with Vision and Bruce, another close friend of the Stark Family. You chuckled. 

“Maybe she’s upset I got lucky on her wedding night and she didn’t,” Tony gagged, punching you in the shoulder. 

“Children,” Maria warned and Tony mumbled a ‘sorry mom’ under his breath. “Dinner is ready.” The group filled into the dining room, and each person had a personalized name plate to designate where everyone was sitting. You pulled out Yelena’s chair for her. 

“Why don’t you do that for me anymore?” Pepper teased as she sat next to you. Tony huffed. 

“They are in the honeymoon phase,” he said. “They’ll grow out of it.” You smiled, placing your hand on Yelena’s thigh. 

“How are you doing?” You whispered. 

“Good,” she smiled. “Really good.”

*    

Once dinner was over, you joined Tony, Vision, and Howard for a glass of whiskey on the balcony. The Elder Stark would pass out cigars but you refused one. It was tradition. You remembered begging your father to join because you wanted to be with him and Tony instead of your mother. You haven’t been on this balcony since you broke up with Wanda. You missed it. Sitting back in your chair, you sipped on your drink and listened to the three Starks talk with one another. Your mind wandered to Yelena. You knew Wanda wouldn’t try to do anything to save face with Maria but you were worried nonetheless. “So,” Howard said, looking at you. Oh boy. “You’ve been oddly quiet. Most nights we can’t get you to shut up.”

“Cool thanks,” you smiled, wrapping your hands around the glass. “I liked listening to you guys talk,” you admitted. “It reminded me of when we were younger and my father was here to join us.” That shifted the conversation and you were grateful until Vision directed it back to you.

“How are you and Miss. Belova?” He asked. You almost choked on your drink.

“We are good,” you smiled. “Just taking it slow and learning more about each other.” You were not giving this man more information to feed to his wife.

“That girl is smart,” Howard praised. “She is going to go far in that company.” Oh, you knew that. She was helping you, Sharon, and Natasha create a branch in California. You were waiting on approval to go ahead with the project.

“Is your relationship affecting your workplace dynamic?” Vision questioned. “You are technically her superior.” Your jaw clenched. You heard Tony shift in his seat, ready to defend you but you held up your hand.

“It has not,” you answered. “If she has any issues, she reports it to Sharon, and then Sharon reports it to me so there is a non-biased party in the middle,” you sat up in your chair. “Now I have a question for you, Viz. Did you have these same levels of concern with Pepper and your brother’s relationship? Or do you just have a problem with it because it’s me?” You smiled. “Excuse me gentlemen but I need a refill.” You stood up and walked back into the house. Walking into the empty kitchen, you dumped your drink in the sink and washed the glass.

“I’m guessing my son said something to upset you.” You chuckled at Maria’s statement.

“He didn’t upset me,” you said. Besides you knew Tony was giving him an earful. “Are you getting a cup of tea? I can make you some.” She nodded and sat down. You began to prepare it. Your mother and Maria were the ones that taught you how to make it. Maria said you could win anyone over with the perfect cup of tea.

“I like her,” Maria broke the silence. You looked at the matriarch. “I like the smile you get when you look at her.” You nodded.

“Yeah, she’s great,” you leaned on the counter as you waited for the water to boil. “Do you think my parents would have liked her?” You asked Maria the same question about Wanda.

“Take my hand,” you did. “As long as you were happy they would have loved whoever you brought home,” the kettle began to whistle. It was the same answer she had given before. You turned around to pour the water into the mug. “But yes, they would have loved her.” That was new. You smiled, loving the warm feeling that covered you.

*      

“Let’s have a toast!” Sarah said, pushing an empty champagne glass in your hand. Laura came up behind her to fill it with a smile.

“She’s been waiting for this moment all day,” you chuckled and thanked the mother of 3. You became close to the Barton Family because of Yelena, you loved going to their house in Iowa. Once everyone had a drink and Lila and Morgan were given apple juice, Tony raised his glass.

“To a beautiful ceremony and a reception we’ll all forget.” You rolled your eyes. Sarah raised her glass next, and you gave her a pointed look to be nice.

“To picking someone that loves you as hard as you love them.” You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to your best friend.

“To looking hot and feeling hot.” Pepper cheered.

“To a long and happy life to the beautiful bride-to-be,” Laura added.

“Cheers!”

*     

It was the Gala of the year, the anniversary of the day Stark Industries was founded. Everyone would be dressed to the nines, the best catering company would be hired and paired with the right drinks. At the end of the night, awards would be given, and there would be dancing, laughing, and sharing stories. Most importantly the press would be there. So much press. Everything had a place and a reason behind it. The type of food, the partners and competitors that were invited, and the way people arrived. It was the biggest headache for those who planned the party but when you stepped out of the car with flashing lights it was worth it. You arrived third to last, in front of Tony and Pepper and Maria and Howard. You rested your hand on Yelena’s thigh. It was the first big event you two were attending as a couple. She was wearing a high slight, dark blue dress with spaghetti straps. You were dressed in a black suit with a dark blue pocket square. Before you left, you gifted your girlfriend a diamond necklace which she was wearing. “Are you excited, sweetheart?” You asked, glancing at her. 

“Fuck yeah. I’m ready to eat until I burst and drink alcohol I didn’t pay for,” you rolled your eyes, stopping the car and putting it in the park. A valet attendant would park it for you. You could hear the paparazzi and see the lights from their cameras. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Yelena smiled before capturing her lips with yours. It was a slow kiss and she pulled away before you could ruin her makeup. You could kiss her for hours if she let you. Every time you kissed her your stomach flipped. 

“About 100 times, darling,” she said. 

“Well I’ll tell you 100 more,” you kissed her again. “Let’s go woo the crowd, baby.” You got out first, waving to the crowd before running over to the passenger side. You opened the door and held out your hand. Yelena took it and you helped her out. The camera lights began to go crazy but your eyes were only on your girlfriend. You stared at each other for a moment before heading to the entrance. Then the questions started. ‘Y/n, how long have you been dating Yelena Belova?’ ‘Is this why you pushed so hard for the Wakanda Project?’ ‘Has this affected your working relationship?’ ‘Can you comment on Wanda and Vision’s relationship?’ But you paid no mind to them. 

Oh, you remembered the headlines from the first event after your break up with Wanda and she attended it with Vision. ‘Maximoff is after a REAL Stark.’ ‘Y/n loses to the Starks again.’ It was brutal. Maria, the company’s PR, had to put out a lot of fires. You made it your mission to make her job as easy as possible. So you ignored the questions and you had a statement ready to go live tomorrow. You and Yelena stopped for one more picture before entering the venue. You felt a weight lifted off your shoulders, feeling safe within the building. Only selective reporters were allowed during the actual event. “I hate the press,” you mumbled, holding onto Yelena’s hand. She chuckled as her sister and Bucky walked over. The redhead was wearing a floor-length black strapless dress and Bucky wore a suit with his tie red that matched Natasha’s lipstick. 

“I see you both made it through alive,” Natasha said. 

“Barely,” Yelena teased. 

“I don’t know how you deal with them all the time,” Bucky mumbled. 

“With a lot of alcohol,” you smiled. “Let’s go drink.”

* 

You were at the founder's table with the Starks plus Wanda, Pepper, Natasha, and Bucky. It was…special to say the least. You kept your hand on Yelena’s thigh while Wanda kept sending daggers your way. It was amazing to see how jealous she was as her new husband ignored her. You noticed Yelena’s drink was getting low as she was in a deep conversation with Pepper. You stood up and took her drink, whispering, ‘I’ll be right back,’ to your girlfriend. Before you could leave the table, Yelena turned to kiss you. You smiled and walked over to the bar. As you waited for the bartender, you heard a set of footsteps approaching you. You knew it was Wanda without having to turn around. You sighed. “What do you want Wanda?” You asked. “You’ve been starring daggers at me all night.” 

“I don’t think Yelena is good for you,” She said, standing next to you. You gave yourself whiplash on how fast you turned to look at her, not hiding the shock by her blunt comment. “You both are in different stages of life. You are well established in your career and she’s just getting her footing. It’s not fair to you that she’s using you to get ahead.” Your jaw clenched. Oh, you were so close to losing your cool. 

“It’s so nice that Vision looks like a loving and doting husband,” you deadpanned as the bartender put your drinks down. “Oh, I’m sorry I thought were saying things that aren’t true. Stay out of my relationship and I’ll stay out of yours.” As you grew into your career you learned to ignore what people said around you. It was damaging to your mental health to follow every rumor or lie spread about you. Even though your relationship wasn’t out to the public those you worked with knew. They were respectful at face value but you heard their whispers. They questioned the validity of your relationship with Yelena and you were only together to benefit the company or each other. It was ridiculous but your anxiety-induced brain made you question everything. Yelena was so far out of your league, that you wondered why she picked you. 

You sat back down with your and Yelena’s drink. “Thank you, dorogoy (sweetheart),” she smiled but frowned suddenly. “What’s wrong?” She asked. You forced a smile and shook your head. 

“Nothing,” you said, putting your arm behind her chair. “Don’t worry about it.” Yelena watched as Wanda returned to her seat, you could see the gears turning in her head. “Don’t,” you whispered in her ear and kissed her neck. “She’s not worth it.” She looked at you, her lips were inches from yours. 

“Come with me,” she said. You knew there was no room for argument. You both excused yourself from the table as Tony cat-called you both. You fought the urge to flip him off as Yelena dragged you to a hallway. “What did she do?” She asked once you were alone. 

“Nothing important,” you said, leaning against the wall. “Nothing that I know that isn’t true,” you looked away from the blonde. She sighed, closing the space, and used her finger to force you to look back at her. 

“It’s bothering you. So I want to know how to help,” she smirked. “Or I can go over there and force her to tell me, you know I’ve been looking for a reason to kick her ass,” you chuckled. That would be a sight to see. You hated the idea of keeping stuff from her but you didn’t want to upset her. You sighed. 

“She said you aren’t good for me,” you told her. “That you are just using me to advance your career.” Her green eyes went wide. 

“You know that isn’t true, right?” She whispered. “I-I would never do that.” Tears began to swell in her eyes. 

“Hey,” you brought her in for a hug. “I know you wouldn’t. No tears, okay? Don’t let that bitch ruin your makeup,” she laughed against your chest but you kept her in your arms when she didn’t pull away. “Sometimes,” you continued. “I can’t believe that I get to call you mine. You are so far out of my league that my mind likes to be my biggest enemy.” Yelena looked up at you. 

“Have you looked in a mirror, detka (babe)?” She questioned. “Or hear what some of the newer associates say about you or read what the press writes?” You remembered the article that Tony joked about. You were New York City’s most eligible bachelorette for a while. “You have the looks, power, and money, and I’m out of your league.” 

“Yes because you see as me and not as a Stark without the last name.”

“And I love you with or without the responsibility that comes with that name.” You stared at her. 

“I love you too,” you said without hesitation and captured her lips. Someone coughing broke you both apart. It was Maria. 

“As cute and disgusting as this is,” she smirked. “The award ceremony is about to start.” Ugh, that meant it was time for your speech. 

“Thank you, Maria,” Yelena smiled. “We’ll be right out,” the brunette left, playfully pointing to her watch. “Ready?” You weren’t. You were dreading to go back to that table. As your girlfriend turned to leave, you pulled her back towards you. “What-?” you kissed her. 

“Tell me again,” you whispered against her lips. She looked confused. “Please baby girl,” you pleaded. “Tell me again.” Her confusion disappeared and she smiled. 

“I love you,” the blonde said. “I am yours and you are mine.” Your heart fluttered. 

“I’m yours.” 

*       

“Are you excited?” Pepper asked, helping you put on Howard’s cufflinks. You waited for the click of the camera to go off before answering.

“I am,” you smiled. “I think I’m more excited for the reception than the ceremony.” Another photo. Pepper laughed.

“I was the same way,” she moved behind you to fix your collar and lay your bow tie flat. “I want you to know Yelena has helped you a lot but you’ve done amazing as well.” If Tony was the brother you never had, Pepper was the sister. You smiled. “It wasn’t easy but you opened up your heart again.”

“It was worth it,” you told her. “It was worth all the growing pains and hurdles we went through,” Pepper hummed. “And thank you for being there when I wasn’t. You have a lot on your plate and I’m sorry I added onto it.”

“Never apologize,” she placed your hands on your shoulders. “You are family,” you watched her smile through the mirror. “Now you are wedding ready.” You were wearing a cream three-piece suit. The blue jay pin was attached to your breast pocket and the color of your bow tie matched the sage green of the bridal party. You smiled back at her.

*  

 You loved your job. Loved it so much. But there were moments that you hated it. You figured that was common for any job. There was a pile of new hires, project requests, and yearly reviews that needed to be done. It seemed to be never-ending as the company continued to grow. You sighed, rolling your neck to release some of the tension, and got back to work. The hours seemed to keep passing but the piles of paper were never ending. A gentle knock on your office caused you to look up as Yelena walked in. “Hi,” you said. She looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” She countered. “We were supposed to meet at Kumos and you weren’t answering your phone. I was worried,” you glanced at the clock. 

“Shit,” you stood up suddenly, knocking against your desk. The lamp rattled from the impact. “I’m so sorry. I lost track of time.” You rushed out. Your hands shook as you began to organize the papers on your desk. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” But you shook your head. 

“I should have been paying attention to the time,” you said. You felt the panic build in your chest. “I got busy with all this,” you gestured to the mess on your desk. “I’m not creating excuses,” you added on. “I-”

“Dorogoy (sweetheart),” she cut you off, raising her hands to stop you. You flinched from the sudden action. Yelena frowned, the worry evident on her face. “Baby,” she said slowly. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. You needed to get out of here. Quickly, you ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. You locked it and slid down the wall until you hit the ground. It felt like there was a thousand pounds of pressure resting on your chest. Every breath you tried to take got caught in your lungs. Everything felt too small and too big at once like you were sinking and couldn’t get out. 

 *     

 Yelena watched as you quickly ran into the small bathroom and slammed the door shut. The sound caused the blonde to snap out of her haze and rush to the door but she heard the door lock. “Fuck,” she mumbled. She knew banging on the door and pleading for you to come out would send you deeper into a panic attack. She’s had to calm her sister down from them. Fishing her phone out of her pocket she scrolled through her contacts. Tony was out of town. She wasn’t sure if she could get her sister involved and she sure wasn’t hell going to call Wanda. That left Pepper. The Russian has texted the CEO a handful of times, mostly regarding takeout when they were at the office late. She was running out of options and hit call. The CEO picked up on the second ring. 

“Yelena,” she said slowly. “What’s wrong?” The blonde sighed and began to pace in front of your bathroom. 

“I’m in Y/n’s office and she had a panic attack and locked herself in the bathroom. I didn’t know who to call or what to do,” Yelena rattled off. Pepper was silent on the other end. 

“I’ll be right down,” she sighed in relief. 

“Thank you. I owe you one,” Pepper chuckled. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the CEO said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

*       

You were still on the floor, back against the wall, and knees to your chest. Everything you tried to calm your breathing down didn’t work and you felt yourself panic all over again. “Hey, it’s me,” you heard Pepper say. “Can you open the door for me?” You couldn’t move. “Or do you want me to use Tony’s spare key?”

“Key,” you said. The door unlocked and Pepper slowly opened it. You watched with tears in your eyes as she closed it behind her and sat down next to you. 

“When was the last time you washed this floor?” She joked. You laughed as the dam finally broke. “Come here,” she pulled in a side hug as you cried against her. 

“Is-is she mad at me?” You asked. 

“No, she’s just worried but we aren’t going to talk about that right now. I just need you to breathe.” You’ve been plagued by panic attacks all of your life and you were prescribed medication at 10 years old. Sometimes the pill didn’t help and your anxiety got the better of you. But this helped, being fully hugged by another person grounded you. You focused on the way Pepper slowed down her breathing and the scent of her floral perfume. “Tell me,” she finally said, drawing circles on your back. “What’s going through your head?” You let out a shaky breath. 

“I got caught up in work,” you told her. “And I missed a date with Yelena. I panicked.” 

“Why did you panic? Yelena told me you flinched when she raised her hands.” You did?

“I thought she was going to be mad at me,” you said slowly. Pepper pulled away from you to sit in front of you. She pulled your legs down so you could get more air in your lungs.

“Can you be honest with me for one question?” You nodded. “Did Wanda hit you?” Your eyes widened at the accusation. 

“What? No, never,” Pepper didn’t look convinced. “I promise. Sometimes she would get upset if she thought I was prioritizing work over our relationship. It was my fault,” you defended. “I should have done better. I should have been better.” Pepper sighed. 

“Honey, you and Tony are so much alike I have to remind myself you aren’t a full-blood Stark,” you smiled, wiping away some of your tears. “Do you know how many times he has missed a date because he was too busy? I’ll answer, a lot,” you chuckled. Half the time you were in the lab when Pepper came looking. She never got angry with him, a simple roll of her eyes and she asked what he was working on. You would order pizza or Chinese and the three of you would sit and talk and laugh. It was some of your favorite memories. “I knew he didn’t love me any less. His brain is just a little scattered just like yours.” That was an underestimate, you had so many thoughts and ideas running through your head it was a little overwhelming. “My guess is when you missed a date with Wanda you made it up to her an extravagant way the next day.” You nodded. 

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I just didn’t want her to be upset with me. I-” You cleared your throat. “I sometimes flinch when someone raises their voice or moves their hands quickly. I love my parents but they argued a lot.” 

“Have you told Yelena this?” You shook your head, looking down at your hands. “Why?”

“Wanda didn’t seem interested in helping me through it,” you shrugged. “I learned to manage it by myself.” Wanda was your first real girlfriend. You didn’t count quick flings in high school and college or random hookups here and there. You were too busy with work or school or managing your public image. 

“Look at me,” you did. She was pissed. You’ve seen her with this dark look in her eyes when she was speaking to Stark’s competitors or dealing with the press. “I need you to listen to me, okay?” You nodded. “Yelena is not Wanda and I know it’s gonna take time for you to trust her with this part of you but doesn’t seem better to have some help with this,” you nodded. It was lonely, swimming in the dark cavern looking for a way out. Pepper smiled. “Do you want to speak with Yelena?”

“Yes, please,” you were surprised that she was still here. “Thank you, Pepper. I appreciate it.” The CEO stood up and walked over to the door. 

“We are family, always have been, and always will be, got it?” You nodded. “Now follow up question, do you want me to kill Wanda?” Your jaw dropped but soon your laugh echoed against the bathroom walls. “I’m serious. I don’t care if she’s my sister-in-law or whatever.” 

“No need,” you smiled. “Besides I think that list is pretty long.” 

“Ain't that the truth,” Pepper winked at you before exiting that bathroom. 

The door wasn’t closed for long as it reopened and Yelena walked in, taking the spot where Pepper sat. “Hi baby,” you whispered, holding out your hand. She took it. “First, I’m sorry I hid from you. I was just scared and stressed with work. Second, thank you for calling Pepper.” She nodded as she stared at your connected hands. 

“What can I do to help?” She questioned. You raised your eyebrows in question. “Your panic attacks. What do you need?” Oh. Wanda never asked. “For me, I don’t like to be touched and the 5 senses counting down works best for me,” you frowned. 

“I don’t know you got panic attacks.” Yelena chuckled. 

“I bounced around Russian and American foster homes of course I have panic attacks.”

“Why haven’t you told me about them?”

“Why haven’t you told me about yours?” She countered. You sighed, looking away from her. “Not sure when the best time to talk about my past.” She squeezed your hand. 

“Wanda didn’t bother to help me,” you admitted. “So I’ve learned to keep it to myself.”

“Hey,” she said softly. You looked at her. “I’m not Wanda. I’m here for the good and the bad, okay?” You nodded. 

“Okay,” you whispered. 

*  

You were sitting on the couch while you listened to Sarah and Tony bicker back and forth. According to Maria, you were ahead of schedule so you had a few moments of peace before it got crazy again. “Knock, knock,” the door to your suite opened. Natasha walked in wearing a sage green dress.

“Looking good, Romanoff,” Tony whistled. The redhead rolled her eyes.

“You clean up nice, Stark,” she looked at you. “Can we talk?” You hated the way your stomach dropped.

“Yeah, of course,” you stood up and walked over to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you gave her a pointed look. “Okay, Yelena had a small panic attack and locked herself in the bathroom. She’s refusing to come out.”

“Take me to her.” You said to her without hesitation.

“I can’t,” she sighed. “She doesn’t want you to see her.”

“I can speak to her through the door,” you reasoned with her. “Natasha, please.”

“Come on,” Natasha gave in. You left your suite without a word to your bridal party and followed her to her room where Yelena was getting ready. You were grateful for Natasha. If it wasn’t for her gentle push you knew you would have danced around your feelings for her sister, too scared to mess up your friendship with her.

  *       

 “Just send it over to me,” you said, pacing behind your desk. “No, I trust you completely but you have your hands full and I can help,” the door to your office quietly opened. You smiled at your girlfriend and put your finger up to tell her you would be done in a minute. “Hope, I promise it’s not that big of a deal.” Yelena pushed your chair out of the way and sat on top of your desk. You smiled. “I know the next time I’m in California we'll get drinks. Give my love to Scott and Cassie. Bye,” you hung up. Yelena spread her legs to make space for you. You through your phone onto the chair and placed your hands on her thighs. “What are you doing, baby?” You asked. She placed her arms around your neck. 

“I was missing you,” you smirked. 

“You saw me at the all-company meeting.” She huffed. 

“Not the same and you know it,” she pouted. You chuckled, kissing her shoulder and up to her neck. She pulled you closer. 

“You can’t stay long,” you mumbled inches away from her lips. “I have a meeting with your sister.” The blonde rolled her eyes, groaning slightly. 

“Please never mention my sister and kiss me.” You obeyed because you could never deny her. You kept the kiss slow, not trusting yourself to get carried away. Yelena was intoxicating, that was the best way to describe her. You could get lost in the way she kissed and touched you. 

“Yelena,” you warned when you felt her tug your hair slightly. “We can’t do this here.” You wanted to push all your work off your desk and take her right here but you couldn’t. The morning wasn’t enough for you. 

“Your meeting with your Chief of Staff isn’t for another 45 minutes,” Yelena mumbled. “You can make me cum before then.” You groaned, resting your head on her shoulder. 

“Baby girl,” you whispered, kissing her neck. “You can’t say stuff like that.” You heard her breathing hitch when your lips grazed a sensitive spot on her neck. 

“Clocks a ticking, moya lyubov’ (my love),” the last of your restrain flew out of the window and you crashed your lips against hers. She smiled, grabbing onto you tightly as your fingers fiddled with the belt of her pants and unzipped the zipper. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” You asked, hands skimming underneath her shirt and goosebumps erupted on her skin. “It’s so hard to keep my hands off of you.”

“Pozhaluysta (please), don’t tease me.” You chuckled, nipping at the skin underneath her ear. You were careful to not leave any visible marks. 

“I got you, sweetheart,” you promised. “I’ll always have you.” You trailed your hand down her chest and trailed your finger underneath her pants, the door of your office opened. Yelena jumped, zipping up her pants. 

“Ugh,” Natasha groaned. “Not you two too,” she walked over to your desk with the paperwork for your meeting. “I already have to worry about walking in on Carol and Val.” Yelena burrowed her face in the crook of your neck unable to look at her sister. You chuckled. 

“Please, I’ve walked in on you and Bucky so many times,” Natasha smirked. 

“A little tip, lock the door,” she hit Yelena on the shoulder. “Come on sestra you can get laid on company time after our meeting.” You felt the blonde let out a small huff and jump off your desk, kissing you softly. Your girlfriend flipped her sister off before leaving your office and closed the door behind her. 

“Shut up,” you said, sitting down in your chair. 

“I have to go bleach my eyes after this meeting,” you rolled your eyes as Natasha sat down. But that smirk was still on her face. “Or drink it so I can forget the image of you having your hand down my sister’s pants.”

“My hand was not down her pants,” you deadpanned. Natasha glared at you. “Whatever, let’s get this meeting going.” Natasha chuckled. 

“Of course, someone has a meeting to have an orgasm.” 

*     

Natasha opened the door to the suite and it was empty of Yelena’s bridal party. She opened the closed door. “Thank you.”

“I’ll give you space. Call me if you need anything,” you nodded and walked over to the bathroom door, gently knocking on the door.

“Go away,” her voice shook. You fought every nerve in your body to break down the door and wrap her in your arms.

“Sweetheart, it’s me.” She was silent on the other side.

“You're not supposed to see me.” You smiled.

“I’m behind the door, my love. I can’t see you, I promise. Can you tell me what’s going on?” You could hear her breathing begin to pick up. “Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Count for me, baby. 5 things you can see.” You wondered if she heard you as she was so quiet.

“Natasha’s makeup bag, a hair dryer, my towel, Melina’s robe,” she laughed. “And a bottle of vodka Alexei left.” You laughed along with her. You loved Melina and Alexei, the odd couple who always made you laugh.

“Good job sweetheart. 4 things you can touch.”

“Bathroom mat, the door, the tile floor, and the silk of my robe.” You praised her each time she counted something in the bathroom that went along with her senses until her breathing slowed down. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this,” you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. You sat down with your back against the door.

“Nonsense,” you said. “You will always be my number one priority. So why did you lock yourself in the bathroom?” You asked. You heard her sigh.

“People are going to be looking at me,” she finally said. You kept the snarky comment at bay; ‘Well it is your wedding.’ You knew there was more. “And I started to panic because what if I fall or mess up my vows or Alexei embarrasses me.” You smiled.

“Well, he’s already going to do that so that’s a given,” she chuckled. “Do you want to call off the wedding?” Yelena gasped.

“No, no. I think Natasha would kill me,” You knew she would never do that. “And I’m not doubting I want to marry you,” well that was a relief. “I just panicked.” You hummed. “You must think I’m stupid.”

“Never, baby, I understand anxiety better than most people. There are going to be a lot of eyes on both of us but do you know where my eyes will be?”

“Where?” Yelena questioned.

“On you. I don’t care about anybody else,” you truthfully said. “And you just have to keep your eyes on me. Nobody else matters,” she was quiet as you brought one leg up to your chest and chuckled. “Do you remember when I asked you to marry me?”

“Before or after I punched you,” she deadpanned. You laughed which caused Yelena to laugh along with you. You asked her to marry her on parent’s farm. She was in disbelief at the question her instinct was to punch you. It got a laugh out of everyone that was there to witness it but she said yes.

“Happiest day of my life,” you admitted. “Well, that is a lie, every day spent with is the happiest day of my life.”

“That was disgustingly cute,” you rolled your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smiled. “So are we going to get married today?” You heard rustling on the other side of the door, you figured she was standing up. You mirrored her actions. The clicking of the door unlocked and it opened slightly. She brought out her hand and you took it.

“See you are the alter,” you kissed her hand.

“See you there.”

*     

Oh, you were going to throw up. You wanted to take back everything you said. You were nervous as Maria kissed your cheek and Howard hugged you, and they left you at the altar. They took their seats next to the empty ones you left for your parents. Next was the wedding party and you felt Tony grab onto your shoulder. “You are going to cause an earthquake for how much you are shaking,” he mumbled. “Breathe.” You nodded as Cooper and Nate walked down the aisle followed by Lila and Morgan. The music changed, the crowd stood up, and there she was.

“Holy shit,” you said, smiling. You heard Tony and Pepper chuckle at your reaction. It was the first time you saw the dress. Yelena went dress shopping with Melina, Natasha, Laura, and Pepper when you were on a work trip. The dress had a lace top and the style hugged every curve. It had a beautiful train behind her. Every guest's eyes were on her, she was the star of the show but her green eyes were only on you. Alexei kissed Yelena on the top of her head when they stopped in front of you and he turned to face you.

“You hurt, my little girl, I will kill you,” he deadpanned but you saw the joke in his eyes. “I have the skills to do it.” You rolled your eyes at the man.

“Dad,” Yelena warned but Alexei ignored his daughter and hugged you tight.

“You are good for her,” he whispered. “You keep her heart good.” He let you go and joined Melina at his seat. You took her hands and smiled.

“Hi,” you said. “You didn’t fall.” Yelena chuckled softly.

“No,” she whispered. “My eyes were only on you.”

*     

With the ceremony over, changed into your reception suit, and a plate full of food, you made your way back to the sweetheart's table. You stopped as you saw Wanda walking with Carol. You knew she RSVP you still weren’t sure if she’d come. Placing your bowl of mac and cheese down and took a sip of your drink. Damn your wife for getting you addicted to the cheesy pasta. Wife. Yelena was your wife. You loved the sound of that. You walked over to your ex. To your surprise, she smiled when she saw you. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” You admitted.

“You are the one that invited me.”

“Well, you invited me to yours. I was just returning the favor,” You looked around the venue. “Where’s the hubby?” You questioned.

“Watching the twins,” you raised your eyebrow.

“He doesn’t like me very much does he?” You asked. She didn’t answer but her smile told you everything. There was a time you hated the man too but you learned to let that emotion go. It was better to move forward and not get stuck in the past.

“I wanted to apologize to you and at some point Yelena.” That was odd. “Natasha knocked some sense into me.” You chuckled. “So I’m sorry.” You crossed your arms.

“For what exactly?” There was a lot she needed to apologize and you wondered what she was going to pick. Wanda sighed.

“I have a lot to apologize for but I’m sorry for everything I said about you and Yelena. It was done in poor taste and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“I’m not giving it to you,” her face showed the shock she was in. “I don’t think you realize how damaging your actions and words hurt me and the person I love.”

“Why did you invite my family?” She asked.

“I could ask you the same question,” You moved to stand next to her to overlook the party. Yelena was doing a shot with Natasha, Bucky, and Alexei. She changed out of her wedding dress into a white jumpsuit. You loved the way she was smiling. “I don’t like how things ended between us,” you stated. “At one point you were my best friend but it got us to where we needed to be. You with Vision and me with Yelena. I guess it counts for something,” You looked at Wanda, who was frowning. “You aren’t happy with Vision, are you?” Wanda sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

“Not as happy as I thought I’d be.” You wondered what was going on behind closed doors. You hummed.

“Maybe that’s your problem, Wanda. The talent behind happiness is appreciating and liking what you have, instead of what you don’t have.” You walked over to Yelena, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Having fun?” You asked. She excitedly nodded her head.

“I beat Bucky at Pennies,” she said, smiling at you sheepishly. You squeezed her waist to get her to tell you what she was hiding. “You are going to need more mac and cheese, I ate yours.” You gasped.

“Baby!” You spun her around in your arms as she laughed. “We have an all-you-can-eat mac and cheese bar and you eat mine.” Her laughter continued as she rested her chin on your chest. “Why did you eat mine?”

“Because it was just sitting there and I like how you make yours and I couldn’t let it get cold so I ate it.” She giggled.

“God, I fucking love you,” you mumbled, kissing her.

“ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, moya zhena (I love you too, my wife)”

“Moya zhena (my wife),” you repeated and kissed her again.

_

Taglist: dogtamer415, justyourwritter69, marvelogic, upsidedowndanvers, theenglishswiftie, dark-hunter16, marvels--slut, janstevenswife, casquinhaa, marvelwomen-simp, dmenby3100, sleeperthelazy, rioheartz, mmmmokdok, wonrius, gemz5, ctrlamira, wandasmarley

[honey-words]

spider boy’s happy ending— spider-man!midoriya izuku x reader

synopsis: moments in your new routine with izuku. he’s stopped keeping secrets, and everything just feels easier now. [part 5/5 - series masterlist]

wc: 1.8k

author’s note: i can’t believe the series is done!!! tysm to everyone who stuck around, this ones for you <3

It’s hard to remember when Izuku wasn’t part of your life. He fits in so seamlessly in your routines it’s like he’s always been there, snuggled up on your couch after a long day, Moony happily napping on his lap. 

You’re both seniors now, and the past few months have been filled with new memories of the two of you becoming even closer. 

Izuku has started to share more about what he gets up to at night, and he’s also started to come back with fewer injuries. 

You asked him about it one night, a month into the new semester. You’re both still neighbors and ignoring graduation as it looms over you and threatens the little world you both live in now. 

“I think I’ve gotten better at this whole Spider-Man thing,” was his answer. He yawned, idly snacking on the bag of chips you’d offered him. You didn’t even like that particular flavor, but you kept them around your kitchen because you knew they were his favorite. 

“Plus, I don’t want you scolding me for dripping blood on your floor.” You snatch the chip bag away from him and he laughs. You can smile about it now, but it was one of the worst nights you both endured together. 

It was the first week of classes, and he had come back dripping blood through his suit. You had panicked, naturally. He had kept reassuring you it was fine and refusing to go to an actual hospital. 

“We got this,” he had breathed, head resting on your shoulder as you both sat down on your bathroom floor and you did your best to gently wipe away dried blood to see exactly where his injuries were. It would have been reassuring if he wasn’t literally bleeding all over your floor. 

You did your best to help him, and he insisted on doing his own stitches. You followed his instructions, blinking away tears at the thought of him learning to patch himself up like this all by himself. Carefully, and as gently and quietly as possible, you helped him over to his apartment. Helped him change out of his bloodied suit and into loose clothing and settle onto his bed. 

You woke up the next morning curled up on the floor next to his bed, holding his hand. 

It hadn’t gotten that bad since, and you hoped it never did. The next day you had enrolled in a first aid course offered through your university and had started reading as many first aid books as you could, but you haven’t needed to use any of the now extensive knowledge you have. 

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him now. “You better not be keeping your injuries from me just because I freaked out,” you tell him. “Which I think was perfectly normal given the situation.”

“I’m not! Promise,” he holds out his pinkie and you smile as you take it in your own. It’s easier to believe him now, and it doesn’t leave you with that heavy feeling in your chest anymore. He holds onto your pinkie longer than he needs to and pulls your hand closer, dropping a quick kiss on your knuckles. “Sorry for teasing.”

“S’okay,” you manage to choke out. Izuku smiles down at his phone, humming quietly in response. You turn away and face the television again, barely processing anything the reporter is saying. The audacity of him to do things like that and be able to function normally infuriates you. You still blush when he pulls you into a hug or smiles at you too brightly. 

You’d never complain, of course. It’s just another thing you’ve gotten used to, an endearingly affectionate habit of his you would never ask him to change. 

Like what he’s doing now, curled in on himself on the couch next to you, wearing his giant oversized hoodie even if it isn’t exactly the weather for it yet, scrolling on his phone while the news is on as background noise. It’s become a Friday night routine for the two of you—when you get tired, you move to your room and fall asleep after whispering to each other about your weekend plans, which more often than not involve each other. 

“Whatcha scrolling through?” you asked him, turning to sit and face him properly. He turns his phone briefly to show you, smiling at you when you laugh. 

“Your Spidey-News column,” he said, going back to his scrolling. “I like to read comments on them sometimes.”

You had become more involved in the newspaper that semester and started a new column on Spider-Man. You published weekly updates on his activities of the week or interviews of people he’d helped.

Izuku had started at the paper as well, as a cartoonist. Momo had taken one look at a doodle he did on one of your notebooks and had recruited him that same day. He was also training under Jiro as a photographer and submitted the odd photo or two of Spider-Man. You’d laughed hysterically the first time you saw it up on the site.

“Are you still freaking out about grad school?” you asked him. He set his phone down with a groan, running his hands through his curls and nodding. 

“I just think it’d be weird if Spider-Man had to move cities, you know?”

You both laugh. It’s something he’s been repeating a lot over the last few weeks. You know that’s not his only reasoning for it, but it definitely is part of it, which is a bit funny to you. 

“I think it would just confirm he’s a student,” you said nonchalantly, moving to surf channels on the TV. 

“Wait, people think that?” 

“Time for bed!” is your quick reply, struggling to hide your teasing smile. He scrambles to his feet, recognizing your movements for what they are. 

“I’ll shower first!” he yelled, already running down the hall to your room, where he stashes his spare clothes for when he sleeps over. You collapse back onto the couch with a laugh. 

A while later, after you’ve gone through your nightly routine, you find him already snuggled in under your covers, scrolling through his phone. You snuggle in right beside him, smiling when you realize he used your shampoo again. 

You run your hand along his hairline to his neck and he sighs, setting his phone down on your bedside table and moving closer to you until your foreheads are almost touching. His eyes flutter clothes as you run your fingers along his hairline again. 

“G’night,” he mumbled, a sleepy smile on his face. You fall asleep soon after him, his smile the last thing you see before sleep finds you. 

And it’s the first thing you see when you wake up again, waking up to the feeling of him gently poking your cheek. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face and you both laugh. 

Wordlessly, you go through your Saturday morning routine, which you’ve repeatedly done for the past few months. 

Izuku always rolls out of bed before you and starts his routine early, a habit you know is ingrained because of his patrols and one he’ll never quite be able to break. 

You start brushing your teeth just as he’s finishing, and he presses a kiss to your cheek as he moves past you to head into the kitchen. You freeze, turning to watch him walk out. 

No, not your cheek, you process. The corner of your mouth. 

Thankfully you hadn’t started brushing your teeth yet, because you’re pretty sure you would’ve choked on your toothpaste and Izuku would’ve had to rush back in here and save you from yourself. 

You begin to brush your teeth as fast as possible before going back and making sure your morning breath is gone, determination and adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ve let him get away with the other sickeningly cute affectionate displays, but this one? This one feels distinctly different. 

For one, you had literally just woken up after sleeping in the same bed. He had clothes in a drawer in your room. You both had a morning routine every Saturday. He was constantly latching onto you and you onto him, and you were the only one who knew about his spidey secret. 

Fear and doubt about his feelings has been holding you back, but now you feel more confident than ever. You feel ready to talk about it. 

You sidle up to him at the kitchen counter, knocking hips with him like you always do to make him laugh. He’s decided on pancakes this morning, and you start buttering a pan without him having to ask. 

“So, you kissed me just now,” you said, working hard to keep your tone as nonchalant as possible. You move the melting butter around the pan to avoid looking at him, a bit of doubt entering you again despite your previous wave of confidence. You quickly dump some of the mixed batter onto the pan with a spoon to give your hands something to do, too. 

“Oh,” he replied, as though just realizing it. You can see him blushing out of the corner of your eye. “Oops?”

“No oops!” you exclaimed, turning toward him. Belatedly you realize you’re still holding the spoon of pancake batter, and it splatters over Izuku and the countertop with your movements. 

He blinks in surprise and you laugh, stepping closer to cup his face in your hands. There’s batter along his cheeks and you wipe it off carefully with a napkin. 

“No oops?” he repeated. You realize how close to his face you are and you freeze once more. But there’s a little batter at the corner of his mouth that you missed, and without breaking eye contact and before you can lose your nerve again, you wipe it away slowly with your thumb, barely grazing his lips as you do. 

“Can I do it again?” he asked, breathlessly. “Properly this time?”

You nod and close your eyes as he leans closer until his lips graze yours, a feather-light touch before you feel his warmth start to pull away. 

You tug him closer, still holding his face in your hands and tilt your head to deepen the kiss. He makes a small noise of surprise but is quick to adapt, hands sliding around your wais to pull you impossibly closer, mouth moving against yours in a way that makes you feel dizzy. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip and then you pull away, panting slightly.

Forehead resting on yours, his eyes flutter open. He looks so pretty like this, cheeks dusted pink and lips red from kissing you. You can’t help but lean in and peck him again, and he smiles, eyes crinkling in the same adorable way they did when he first met you. 

“Again?” he asked, and you laugh before leaning in once more, sure there will be many more instances of him asking and of you giving in.

taglist: taglist: @yoonights @justxiao @nonhon @koreluvsspring @orangetappe @shokomilks @froggybich @dekuloveshotcheetos @luvrluvrr

masterlist

[libertybri]

Fo4 companions + Maxson react to accidentally falling into worm hole and getting sent to the past for a week and end up meeting their younger self. (Danse meeting himself as M7-97)

So this was one super interesting, lol! I had to get a bit creative for some because I didn’t want to leave anyone out + I added Strong and Dogmeat!!

Cait

The moment her former self was in currently, was what Cait then believed was the peak of her life. She felt the strongest she ever was due to her own raw strength and the unmentionable addictions keeping her going at a hundred-percent all of the time. Being loved was a foreign concept and there were no thoughts of ever inheriting a real friend or someone who cared enough to save her. Even if she were to speak to that version of herself, Cait knew she wouldn’t be able to get through to her then. There was really no point of exercising the thought to her that there was good in the world willing to take her in. That was left up to Sole, for she believed only they could ever be the one to get through to her no matter her state.

Synth!Codsworth

“Oh dear, was I always floating about this rusty in the beginning?” The new synthetic-bodied Codsworth stands ashamed of his former self. The robot floated before him with his rusty exterior and only motive to try and rid the world of its new radiated filth.

“Um, did you say I? I do believe you are confused, sir. Perhaps all of this radiation is altering your thought process. My Sir and Mum should be back any minute now and they would love to help you!” The robot version of himself gleamed at the opportunity to help someone in need, not realizing the person before him was actually himself in another time and body. He was also mistaken about the timing of which only part of his family would return to him. The synth decided it wasn’t in his best interest to tell the robot all of this information, as he always remained hopeful.

Curie

The synth looked upon her former robotic self with two strong feelings; one of relief and one of sorrow. She was of course relived to be able to roam free among the world and view it as a human, for which she loved humans very much. However, part of her was longing for the former connections she had while in this state. The scientists she was built up with and the experiments she held while as the robot were dear parts of her past that she held closely to her synthetic-heart. Though with all of the reminiscing, she is able to remind herself of why the change happened and how she can move forward with her new connections and experiments that she also appreciates.

Danse

Danse doesn’t quite understand why he sees the synth with a blank personality, meant to take his own. He doesn’t remember his life before it was stolen, but meeting him, who took his own life. The version of himself now was standing before that same version. “You know you aren’t me.” He is still astonished with the entire thing, hoping this thing doesn’t yet have his personality.

“I am supposed to be Paladin—“

“M7-97.” Danse cuts him off sternly. “That’s who we are… We become Danse with time.” Though still struggling to understand himself after learning of his true identity, he doesn’t allow this to be a setback and instead finds satisfaction in seeing himself as a synth in an earlier stage of creation. It gives him peace knowing that he has the freedom to write his own story now.

Deacon

Deacon absolutely loathed seeing his past self. The younger leaving destruction in his path. He had no desire to speak to him or allow him to know of his future’s presence. Instead he only watched from the shadows intently, forcing himself to endure what he thought he deserved. Watching himself completing ravaging tasks was torture to his new role. He swallowed back all of the hate and anguish for that version of himself until this wormhole was done tormenting him with it.

Dogmeat

Dogmeat is overjoyed seeing himself as a puppy and immediately wants to play! He can’t even remember what it was like being that small, but that doesn’t matter now. He is content with just playing chase with his younger self until they’re both too tired to run any longer.

Gage

Seeing himself before the corruption of being a raider was like a punch to the gut for Gage. He saw optimism and light in his younger eyes, bliss from what he believed was protection then. What was soon to come for him was an awful awakening and the Gage now knew that, so he felt more sad than anything. He assumed anger would have been his first emotion, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry with the past any longer.

“Things turn out alright for us… eventually, at least. You’ll meet so many shitty people ‘long the way, but one’s gonna come around and change all that.” Gage makes sure to tell his former self about his admiration for the Overboss, no matter their current relationship. He owed his newfound happiness to them.

“Thing’s get serious with this ‘one’?” His former preteen self giggled at the ‘old-man’, teasing at any hints of a relationship of some kind.

Gage chuckles and shakes his head, “They’re alright by us an’ that’s all that matters.”

Hancock

“Yeah, I figured the day’d come.” The smooth-skin John chuckled a his later state. His eyes scanned over the ghoulified version of himself dressed in historical attire, but wearing it with definite swagger. “Say, that brother of ours ever come around? This fight worth it?”

“McDonough’s a lost cause, but the fight’s always worth it. Lot’s a people come around for you because you never lose sight of what’s right.” Hancock smiles as he reminisces on the upbringing of his people. A lot was sacrificed along the way; his skin being part of that recklessness within the upbringing. In his mind everything happened in its place for a reason. He had to be the mortar for his people and for that, he absolutely held no regrets.

MacCready

There’s so many things MacCready thinks to tell his former self, but when it actually comes down to meeting him, he can’t bring himself to relieve the munchkin of knowing the future. Those unchangeable experiences couldn’t be passed through stories, so instead he interacted in the only way his 12-year old self knew.

“Hey butt-muncher, you got cave fungus all over your upper lip.” He chuckles, getting on his own nerves very easily.

“Can it, mungo! This is a mustache!” MacCready can’t help but to laugh at himself. Though he made plenty of bad decisions in his childhood, growing that ‘mustache’ was quite possibly his worst small mistake he ever made.

Maxson

Squire Maxson was quite the sight to the older; having only aged 8 years since then, however appearing to have fought many battles that physically aged him tremendously. The young boy was still in training by his predecessor Sarah, yet untouched by the cruel world. Two years to come for this boy before his entire world changed and he would become the war-machine that he now knows so comfortably. Elder Maxson was struggling to find the words to convey to him former self, knowing nothing would change. He cannot label feelings neither, for that was a difficult task. The younger fears the man before him but not because of appearance but instead his demeanor. There was a darkness that loomed over him and despite only being 12 years old, the younger knew things were not well for himself later in life. “I become Elder…” His voice trembles slightly only then realizing what that means for Sarah. “Oh.”

“I do what’s best for the Brotherhood. I know what’s best.” Maxson says to himself, though it comes out more as if he has to convince himself of that. There were a lot of battles in his life but none bigger than the self-battle he is always going through. He wish things could be different for the young boy, but with the greatest responsibility among his shoulders, nothing could ever change for him.

Nick

Nick’s former self is a prototype synth, factory fresh and one of the first of his kind. As a prototype, his personality still wasn’t fully there as the Institute were attempting to develop prewar people into their synths. Nick realizes he never knew himself as a separate personality then, he has no memories before Nick Valentine. The image before him didn’t feel like him, so he merely watched as the Institute performed more experiments on him. Experiencing this wormhole creates more doubt in his mind as he tries to understand himself as his own Nick of his time.

Piper

The urge to approach her younger self and warn her of upcoming events was very hard to fight for Piper. She knew no matter what there was no changing the past but part of her hoped if she could just spiel enough knowledge to her younger self in this worm-hole, she would be able to break through the wall and change the order of events. Solemnly, she decides to instead nurture the young Piper as she needs.

“How different are things in the future? Is the grass greener? Do we find love? What is Nat like?” Her younger self, full of ambition and curiosity bombards her with several questions.

Piper cringes at the truth and does her best to mask the truth; “Uh, well, things are actually a lot different, but it turns out alright. There’s people there for us and we take care of them too… We’ll be okay.”

Content with this answer, the younger Piper goes back to drawing a portrait of her little family with the newest addition of baby Nat. Piper was only happy the innocence still had a few years before it would be lost.

Preston

In a nightmare-like tone, Preston was sent to himself at his lowest point. Though it wasn’t too far into the past for himself to see noticeable changes in his appearance, he was able to instantly notice the change in demeanor. His past self held no hope for the future or himself, he was lost in all ways and ready to give up. “The good fight is worth all of this sacrifice.” He tells himself. Seeing the future and what it holds definitely brings a twinkle of light to his former self, however he was still at a loss in his current state. “Good people give their all so the Commonwealth can stand for the future generations. You give your all.”

“What other choice do I have? These people are counting are counting on me.” The past Preston chokes back on his words. They come out a lot more confident than he felt in himself at that moment. He knew in his heart it was the right answer, as his fight will always be for the good of the people. Finding the courage was becoming onerous, but he was finally willing to accept the help of those around him to guide him.

Strong

“So this is what I become…” Strong’s former self wasn’t as shocked at the sight of his future as he was now knowing what would eventually happen to the world. “They actually did it, damned us all.”

Strong studies this human timidly, still not fully convinced at one point this was him. He decided to instead lecture himself for being sad about his current state, “HUMAN SHOULD BE HAPPY. HUMAN STRONG AFTER BOMB.”

Human Strong crosses his arms, “Human was strong before. I, er, you worked out a lot before… this. At least you still take pride in your athleticism.” Though the human version of himself was glad that teeny bit of self-sense was still there, he was still deeply distraught at his outcome with life.

X6-88

Depending on the path Sole takes, X6 meeting himself in his early stages of creation could be broken down in two ways;

A) Sole “rescues” X6 from the confinement of the Institute and he lives at a settlement after the Institute is blown up.

—X6 is faced with a version of himself that is no courser to the institute, but merely just a test subject of a synth. This version has plenty of training to endure before he could ever be a courser. While X6 thought he would be disgusted, or even envy the given fresh start, he felt nothing but pity for his former self. “One day you will be freed of the Institute’s reign. Your savior is powerful and compassionate enough to forgive a synth like you for all of the trouble you have caused them.” He tells his younger self, stating fact of what he knows now. However, this version would hear none of it and he knew that.

B) Sole becomes director of the Institute.

—X6 feels nothing when meeting himself in the early stages of creation. He knows from that point to where he is now, things would never change for him. This was his destiny after all; A machine made to serve and kill.

[wistfulcynic]

matelotage me

for @gbweddingweek a short fic i originally wrote for a zine that never got off the ground. It was written before S2 and actually i think holds up pretty well to what happened in that season.

vaguely, it responds to the prompt "proposals"

a brisk 1.5k rated G | AO3

Stede and the crew in the dinghy rowing away from where they were marooned, towards the Republic of Pirates. Stede muses on how badly he's hurt Ed, Black Pete offers an idea.

-

At first, there was only silence. 

The silence of the sea, that is, not truly silence at all. Waves lapped against the side of the dinghy; oars splashed as they hit the water then sliced through it with a gentle swishing sound. The wind whistled, seagulls cawed, Stede grunted as he rowed, but within the dinghy the noiselessness was oppressive. It sat heavily on the sunburnt shoulders of Black Pete, Wee John, Oluwande, Roach, Buttons, and the Swede, as well as Stede’s own aching ones. 

None of them could say what might be the outcome of this plan of theirs, to head for the Republic of Pirates instead of back to the Revenge after Ed had—and Stede still couldn’t fully process the implications of this—left them marooned them on that spit of sand, presumably to die. None of them wanted to talk about it either, except, predictably, Pete, who broke the silence about an hour into their journey.

“I still think we should just go back to the ship, rescue our guys, and get the fuck out,” he declared, then raised his hands defensively in response to the chorus of groans. “What? We can’t trust Blackbeard anymore, he left us out there—” 

“We talked about this, Pete,” said Oluwande wearily. “This dinghy barely holds us, it’s not gonna manage with Jim and Frenchie and Lucius too.” 

“Well then maybe we steal another dinghy.” 

“That’s too complicated.”

“But Blackbeard—” 

“He must really be hurting.” 

Stede’s quiet statement ended the argument. As one, the crew turned to where he sat at the centre of their huddle, rowing steadily and with surprising endurance. Stede hadn’t said much since he’d found them, just listened to their tale with an open mind but an increasingly heavy heart. 

“He’s pushing away people who care about him,” Stede continued. “Isolating himself. He must be in a really bad way or he wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”

Wouldn’t what? Betray Stede? As he, Ed, must have felt betrayed? Couldn’t abandon the crew as he must believe Stede had abandoned him? 

“He just wouldn’t,” Stede finished, lamely. “Not without a reason.” 

“Except… he totally did,” said Pete, oblivious to or choosing to ignore Olu’s attempts to shush him. “Out of nowhere, too, like one day he’s fine and the next—we’re marooned. What ‘reason’ could he have had for that?”

Oluwande glanced at Stede, just briefly but it was enough. Olu knew. Stede sighed. “It was because of me,” he said. “I hurt him.” His face crumpled as he remembered Ed’s joy at their planned escape to China. How must he have felt that night when Stede didn’t show up? How long had he waited? “I broke a promise to him. I didn’t think he would—at the time I thought he couldn’t actually want to… not with me… after the way I ruined things. I thought his life would be better if I weren’t in it. I thought he wouldn’t miss me.”  

“He did though,” said Olu quietly. “He missed you a lot.” 

“I broke his heart,” Stede whispered, “didn’t I?” 

“Yeah.” Olu’s voice held a wealth of sympathy. “I think you did.” 

“Broke his heart?” Pete’s expression progressed from confusion to disbelief to dawning comprehension, all within the space of an uncomfortable twenty seconds. “Wait… you mean… you and Blackbeard?” 

“Come on, man,” said Olu as the rest of the crew groaned. 

“Where’ve you been?” demanded Wee John. 

“It wasn’t exactly subtle,” Roach observed. 

“Well maybe I just had other things to think about,” grumbled Pete. “Some of us have personal lives, you know.” 

“All of us have personal lives, Pete!” snapped Oluwande. “We can still pay attention to what’s going on around us!” 

“All right, okay! Fine!” Pete held up his hands again. “Let’s just drop the entire subject.” He turned to Stede. “Listen, Captain, if it really is like that with you and Blackbeard then you shouldn’t have any trouble getting him to give us our guys back. You just have to, you know. Woo him a bit.” 

“Woo him,” repeated Stede. 

“Yeah,” said Pete. “Woo. Bring him a present or something. Tell him his hair looks nice.”

“Tell him ye appreciate his beard,” piped up Buttons. “Advise him tae grow it back.” 

“Compliment him on his fashion sense,” said the Swede. 

“Or his sword skills!” chimed in Roach. 

“All excellent suggestions, but if I’ve hurt Ed as badly as I think I have I doubt they’ll be enough,” said Stede. “I need some way to show him that I’m serious about wanting to mend things between us. That I’m not afraid of the future he wanted for us and that I want it too.” He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I need to show him that I love him as Ed, with or without the beard or the leather or any of the rest of it. Just as Ed.” 

“Well, if you feel that way about him, why don’t you offer him matelotage?” inquired Pete, in a tone that suggested this was the most obvious solution in the world. 

“Ooh, there’s a thought,” said Olu. 

“Matelotage means business,” Wee John agreed. 

“Matelotage?” Stede frowned. It seemed to him he’d heard that word before or possibly read it, but he couldn’t recall what it meant. “What’s that?” 

“Well,” said Pete, puffed up and very pleased to be the one to deliver this explanation. “Matelotage is when two pirates decide that they want to pledge their lives to each other. They have a ceremony, usually performed by the captain but I guess Buttons could do it for you—” 

“Aye, so I could and it’d be my pleasure, Cap’n!” 

“—where they promise to share their incomes and property, protect each other in battle, and be each other’s companion and support for the rest of their lives.”

Stede stopped rowing and laid down the oars. “So… it’s like marriage,” he ventured.  

“Er—yeah.” Pete nodded. “I never really thought about it that way but I guess it is.” 

“Ed and I could get married.” Stede turned this idea over in his mind and found that it enthralled him. If he and Ed were married then they could kiss each other again. They could kiss any time they wished! And more than just kissing! They could live together, adventure together, share everything with each other. They could share a bed. A bed where they could—well. They could do all the things that Stede’s eager imagination had been tormenting him with in fantasies both waking and asleep, from the moment he realised that what he felt for Ed was love. Stede felt his cheeks flush and immediately turned his thoughts elsewhere. A small dinghy in the middle of the ocean and surrounded by his crew was certainly neither the time nor the place. 

He and Ed could wake up together every morning, yes, that was the thing to think about. Thoughts of a bare-chested Ed with soft and sleepy eyes, morning sunlight in his hair, were quite stimulating enough actually, given the circumstances. 

Sleep together, wake together, live together. It sounded like heaven. Everything that had ever troubled him in his marriage to Mary—all that made him so uncomfortable in a married state—when he thought about those same things with Ed, they took on an entirely new and monumentally more appealing aspect. 

“We could get married,” he said again. 

He pictured Ed in a veil like the one Mary had worn, and—was that a thing in matelotage? It might not be a thing. Stede really had no context or sense of etiquette for any of this. But the idea of Ed in flowing lace sparked a coiling sensation in his lower belly, made his insides go all tight and twisty and his skin feel hot. 

That was probably just too much time in the sun. 

He could see it though, so clearly in his mind’s eye. Ed with his hair up as it had been on the night of their excursion to the French ship, all woven through with jewels and flowers, framed by a spill of white lace… faint strains of music in the air as Ed crossed the deck of the Revenge to where Stede stood waiting for him, framed by a glorious sunset… an elegant floral arrangement in Ed’s hands… eager warmth in his eyes… the two of them, hands entwined, pledging their eternal troth together… the vows… the kiss… and then—

The rest of his life to spend with the man he loved. 

Stede’s throat drew tight as tears gathered in his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered, roughly, softly, but in the oddly liminal space of the dinghy they all could hear. “Yes. I’ll ask him to matelotage me.” 

“I don’t think that’s how you say it—” 

“Shhh!” Olu dug his elbow into Pete’s side. “Would you shut up for once and just let him have this.” 

Stede took up the oars again and resumed rowing with renewed vigour, now with a dazed and blissful smile on his face and his eyes bright with dreams. Oluwande watched him for a moment with a troubled frown, then repeated, “Let him have this. Let him do it his way. I have a feeling that if we want to survive this and get our friends back we’re going to need for him to be exactly himself.” 

“Aye,” agreed the crew, even Pete, then silence fell again. 

[mirrorsblogs]

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐌𝐞 (𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝), 𝐋. 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙖 𝙘𝙝. 𝟭𝟯𝟬+

 It was cold, like most nights on the coast, with rarely any reprieve but Levi never complained. His very nature of endurance prevented him from ever complaining so he opted to sit up in bed and embrace it. Goosebumps littered his skin as he stared out the bedroom window towards the rolling sea.

I dreamed of the stars, now look at me.

Levi Ackerman should be happy. He retired from the military, the war was long over, and he never had to return to that wretched place that forced him away from the treasures of the world. He should be happy.

“Levi, what’re you doing awake?” Your voice from beside Levi startled him slightly. His eyes darted over to you, tensing unconsciously. You opened your eyes fully at his lack of response and saw his expression; ready for combat.

From beneath the bedsheets, you reached your hand to grasp his clenched fist, then, and only then did he release slightly. He looked around once again but was met with the familiar sight of the bedroom.

“You’re safe, there is no war,” you whispered, the same tone you had said every time prior.

“I’m not stupid I know,” Levi mumbled. The vulnerability of admitting the trauma his life had given him was something Levi was not prepared for so he chose the next option; avoidance.

“I never said you were but you looked tense,” you said, getting up to match his eye level while remaining on the bed. “I just wanted to be there for you.”

Levi paused for a moment, he lashed out at you again. Though you had explained to him previously that you understood his defensiveness it still made him feel awful whenever he lashed out. That horrible feeling led him into believing he could never escape the horrors he had been subjected to.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry.” He rubbed his hands together awkwardly.

“I know.” You smiled, Levi thought he did not deserve that grace. “But you’re getting better at recognizing it? Can’t you see?”

No, Levi could not. The progress you saw was entirely invisible to him so he simply sighed.

“Would you want to have some tea?”

“I’m up for it,” you said gleefully. 

Levi got up using his walking cane, refusing assistance from you, and headed towards the shared kitchen. You remained silent as you sat down on a nearby table and opened a book knowing full well the tea-making process helped him to relax. It was clear cut for Levi, the steps were ingrained into his mind, even after all these years.

Hange taught me this trick.

Levi paused in his straining.

Hange.

The ‘four-eyed freak’ popped into his mind. For once in his life, he missed their charisma, their ability to lighten any mood, and most importantly their quirks. Levi looked around the kitchen but was met with empty space, Hange would always annoy him when he was brewing tea. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted you sitting idly at the table reading. Levi shook his head as he realized his own foolishness, he was not alone in this struggle.

“Can you stand by me?” The words came out stuttered and forced but for Levi to admit help this was the only way. You smiled at propped yourself on a nearby counter, watching him silently. “How was your day?”

“Good. Gabi dropped by and gave me some fruit she bought at the market, they’re supposed to be exotic.”

This was nice, this was normal.

“Keep talking,” he commanded.

You droned on and on about your day, recapping drama, reminiscing, sharing opinions, and so on. He never interrupted you but looked even more focused on his tea-making process. 

“Done.” You stopped talking instantly and helped to put the tea and saucers onto the table. As you both sat there was a sad tinge in his eyes that you quickly picked up on.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Levi paused in contemplation, did he want to talk about it?

“Do you remember that time Hange thought it would be funny to lock us in Erwin’s office?” Levi looked down at his tea with a broken smile, his index finger rubbing the ceramic thoughtfully.

“You tried kicking the door down if I recall correctly.” You chuckled.

“You slept on one of the desk chairs until I woke you up.” Levi lifted his eyes to yours which were already staring at him. “Do you miss them?”

There was a lull. Did you miss your fallen comrades?

“Every day,” you whispered.

“How do you live?” Levi had stopped avoiding, he was tired of running.

“I have to focus on the present because if I stop to look back I’ll-” You stopped yourself as you lifted a hand to quiet your sobs. “I’ll remember how they all died, right in front of me.”

Levi regretted asking you these questions, it did more harm than good. It was better to just move on but that was easier said than done. He decided, looking at you, that he would try to live the life all his comrades dreamed of, he would try to live in peace.

“Do you want more tea?” He was mournful.

“No, I’m fine,” you hurriedly muttered, wiping the snot leaking from your nose. 

“I’m gonna go back to bed,” Levi whispered, already grabbing his cane.

“I’ll go with.” The dishes were left on the table, that was tomorrow’s problem.

The room was as cold as before but Levi shirked away from it now. He glanced dismally at his bed and quickly climbed under the covers, pulling you closer than before. The newfound contact surprised you for a moment but you leaned into him.

“Don’t leave me too,” he whispered, voice gravelly, breath hot on your neck. 

“I’m right here,” you whispered. Your hand grabbed his and you leaned your back further into his front. “Can’t you feel me?”

“You’re warm.” You were puzzled for a moment, Levi hated being warm or even humid. “This feels nice.”

And at least for this sole moment, he meant every word.

[haruhar-u]

Hard Armour Does Not Make A Good Pillow

-2779 words

“Feng Xin’s brain told him he should panic, flail and kick his legs and start yelling at Mu Qing to put him the fuck down. Unfortunately for him, his heart had other plans”

beta read by @good-vs-evo

For @fengqingaction donations are open until July 5th please consider donating :)

prompted by Ladysara_writer on ao3

—Basically Feng Xin has a migraine and Mu Qing takes care of him—

“Currently mount Tonglu is stable,” some random middle court civil god from the palace of Ling Wen, that’s Feng Xin’s guess as their blue robes matches Ling Wen as if she was their fucking idol or something,  practically droned on; they leaned over a piece of paper as they wrote on it at the head of the table. The other officials were all pretty much craning their necks to get a look at the paper. Feng Xin, on the other hand,  desperately tried to block out the constant droning of their voice. It was akin to a mosquito flying near your face and especially buzzing around your ears yet you can’t swat them away no matter how hard you try. 

“…the mortals are doing well as of now…Lord Windmaster is on his way to ascending again...now onto finances,” they continued as Feng Xin stifled a groan. The light streaming through the wide windows felt like it was going to practically burn out his eyes. Actually, Feng Xin wouldn’t be surprised if it was slowly burning his brain through his eyes. That’d make a lot of sense considering how he felt right now. 

The civil god started stating random amounts of merits in numbers so large Feng Xin didn’t want to process even thinking about them right now. He buried his face into his hands which were resting on the table in front of him, allowing the soothing darkness to engulf him…Well it wasn’t as dark as Feng Xin would like but it was slightly better than before. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world and hard armour is not a good pillow. He felt like he was heaven’s biggest idiot for thinking he’d be able to endure what started out as a dull ache for the entire hour the meeting would run for. And, dull ache? Nah, that became an intense throbbing pain clawing at his head and Feng Xin swore he felt bile come up.

Feng Xin tightly shut his eyes; if he has to stay here for another 45 minutes, might as well wallow in misery while he’s at it! The droning of the civil god got worse and their voice went from a buzz in Feng Xin’s ear to what sounded like the long nails of a ghost empress scratching at metal right next to his ears. Why couldn’t his state of misery have waited until after the meeting? Actually, why couldn’t it have stopped right this second? That’d be pretty ideal, if Feng Xin wasn’t to lie. He’ll just ask another heavenly official, probably Xie Lian, –he wouldn't mind for sure–what happened at the meeting. If he were to ask Mu Qing, he can see the eyeroll coming from where he is now.

He felt a light tap on one of his shoulders. Reluctantly he turned his head to the side and opened a single eye, slightly wincing at the light. 

          “You look worse than usual.” It was Mu Qing who tapped him. Was that a hint of concern in his hushed tone and facial expression? No, why would Mu Qing be concerned about him? 

      “Fuck off.” That just kinda came out weakly without Feng Xin even thinking about it. Force of habit, he supposed. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mu Qing roll his eyes at him. Typical. “Obviously you’re well enough to curse me out.”

“..’m fine” Feng Xin mumbled, turning his head back to how it was before Mu Qing came and decided he must disturb the peace by bothering him.

“No, you’re not.” 

“I am”

            “I don’t believe you.”

“I said I’m fucking fine.” “Sure.” Mu Qing retorts. “I’ll believe you when you sit up and pay attention.” 

Why did Mu Qing have to be so fucking fustrating? Feng Xin didn’t understand it! Why couldn’t Mu Qing just leave Feng Xin to suffer alone and in peace exactly how he wanted to in the first place. 

Feng Xin let out a sigh and forced himself to sit up straight. The bright lights from Mount Taicang poured burned into his head from the windows when he opened his eyes causing his head to feel like it was about to split open leaving only one martial god of the south. He couldn’t close his eyes. There was no way in the ghost realm he’d even think about looking weak in front of his greeted rival!

“You look…like you’re about to throw up all over the table,” Mu Qing comments in a whisper just loud enough for Feng Xin to just barely hear him. 

“I’m fine.” Was that really all Feng Xin could say? He was seriously starting to think that was all he knew how to say at this point! At this point if this headache kills him, ‘I’m fine -tremendous masculinity’ is going to be the thing engraved onto his grave! That fucker Mu Qing would make sure of it. 

Mu Qing rolled his eyes again. Then he did what Feng Xin would never imagine in a million years. He wrapped one of his arms under Feng Xin’s knees and the other under his armpits then lifted him up. Which unfortunately caused the judgemental gazes of all the heavenly officials in the room to land on the two of them.

Feng Xin’s brain told him he should panic, flail and kick his legs and start yelling at Mu Qing to put him the fuck down. Unfortunately for him, his heart had other plans as it started to beat uncontrollably fast. The heart wants what it wants and the heart wants him to lean against Mu Qing’s chest. He didn’t have the strength to fight it and then he buried his face against the silk of Mu Qing’s outer robe and closed his eyes once more. 

“General Xuan Zhen, General Nan Yang, just where do you think you’re going? And Xuan Zhen, why are you carrying Nan Yang??” the middle court official asked. Either Feng Xin didn’t catch what was said after or Mu Qing just straight up ignored them.

He felt the air get colder as Mu Qing stepped out into fresh air. There was a slight breeze that hit Feng Xin’s face. The breeze felt surprisingly soothing, like a mother’s touch, but cold. The air was definitely way less stuffy than in the temple, so that’s definitely a plus.

Mu Qing didn’t say anything as he walked, which Feng Xin deeply appreciated. He definitely thought the bastard would immediately start scolding him or use this as a chance to prove he’s better somehow. Feng Xin isn’t really sure how. But Mu Qing’s silence was a welcome change compared to the constantly grating voice of the junior official from Ling Wen palace. Feng Xin wishes banishment upon them for ...He'll get back to you on that. 

They must’ve gotten back to the palace because although Feng Xin’s face was still buried into Mu Qing’s chest the air surrounding them got slightly warmer and the breeze completely went away. Wait…Feng Xin’s face was still against Mu Qing’s chest? Well, a world of teasing is in for him once he gets better. He should probably think of bracing for the impact of Mu Qing’s words and start thinking of comebacks, you know? 

At this point, Feng Xin didn’t know where Mu Qing was taking him; in fact, he didn’t even know which palace he was even in! Did Mu Qing take him to his own palace or did he go to Feng Xin’s palace? Then a door slowly creaked open as Mu Qing supported Feng Xin’s body weight with one arm as the other was opening the door. Feng Xin was laid upon the bed. The bed felt soft and the blankets on top were completely messy and unmade and he could feel pillows thrown about all around him. This bed felt familiar. It felt like home. Oh wait, maybe that’s because it was home. Yeah that’d be a good guess. 

Mu Qing clicked his tongue. “You can’t even make your own bed in the morning? Seriously?” Feng Xin desperately hopes that’s a rhetorical question as he didn’t feel like answering that. Mu Qing then lets out a sigh, but it’s not one of those annoyed kind of sighs but it’s one of those exasperated-affectionate kind of sighs. “Do you have any rags anywhere?”

“In the bathhouse,” Feng Xin answered. Honestly, he wasn’t 100% sure if there even were any in the bathhouse. That was just the place where there would most likely be a random cloth laying about. Knowing Feng Xin’s organization skills, it’s definitely on the floor. He just has to trust that Mu Qing will be able to find it. He probably will. If Mu Qing wasn’t a martial god, he’d definitely be a civil god of organizing or some shit like that. 

Mu Qing then closes the door to leave Feng Xin with only the sounds of his own thoughts and breathing. Even that was a bit too loud at the moment. At least it wasn’t as bad as the heavenly official meeting. That literally felt like that time Hua Cheng and Xie Lian invited everyone to the ghost realm for dinner…it definitely wasn’t pretty and Feng Xin wondered if what was being served was actually edible. The ghosts were also incredibly noisy. Like a whole bunch of little tiny children in a martial school learning how to learn a sword for the first time or some shit. Like congratulations kids  now please shut up. Or in Feng Xin’s case, congratulations we are in a shit load of debt from rebuilding everything now shut up!

Mu Qing came back quite quickly. A lot quicker than Feng Xin thought he would, considering the state of his bathhouse. Feng Xin blinked open his eyes to see Mu Qing folding a cloth. His dark hair, which was held back in a half ponytail, was slightly messy with the occasional fly-away strands poking out. His robes were also a bit out of place, the outer portion was pulled slightly down, Feng Xin could only assume it was him who caused it, revealing a bit of his beige inner robes. It was...in the dimly lit room…No. There’s no fucking way Feng Xin is finding a man with messy hair and messed up clothes attractive. Especially if said man is Mu Qing. 

Mu Qing finished refolding the cloth in a rectangle shape and lay it gently onto Feng Xin’s forehead. The cool feeling of the damp cloth felt nice on his skin, it didn’t immediately soothe his headache but it felt good nonetheless. Then Mu Qing softly helped Feng Xin undo his top knot, letting his hair flow down to just under his shoulder blades. Having his hair down felt way nicer than laying on a permanent bump on his head due to the way his hair was styled. 

“I brought a bucket and water  from the bathhouse, just in case,”  Mu Qing states, putting the bucket and water down by Feng Xin’s bedside. Nope, there’s no way in the ghost realm he’d need to use the bucket in front of Mu Qing. There was definitely no way he’d give his biggest rival blackmail! Mu Qing seeing Feng Xin in pain like this was already enough, if he were to throw up in front of him it’d be ten times worse.

But if Mu Qing really was his biggest rival ever, then why does the mere thought of him taking care of him ever so gently and attentively cause his heart to feel like it was about to beat out of his chest? Or why does it cause his cheeks to go slightly pink. This is all too weird for Feng Xin! He hates Mu Qing right? Right??? And Mu Qing hates him back! But if he truly hated him back, why is he taking care of him like this! Why does he care?

Mu Qing leaves the room again, slowly closing the door behind him. Feng Xin doesn’t know why he didn’t want him to leave. He desired Mu Qing to stay and sit in serene silence with him the way he once did Jian Lan back in the day… What the fuck???

Mu Qing came back to check on him randomly throughout the day. He was a natural caretaker. It was odd. Whenever Feng Xin needed anything, it would be around the time Mu Qing came in to check on him. Mu Qing didn’t say anything when Feng Xin had no choice but to use the bucket he brought. Mu Qing only rolled his eyes, picked up the bucket and took it somewhere else. He probably cleaned it out and put the same bucket back. That or Mu Qing has found an endless supply of the same buckets somewhere. 

Still, this feeling Feng Xin had towards him. It was just (regrettably) gratitude for having at least someone to take care of him this time, right? There’s no way this is love! Feng Xin shudders at the thought of him and Mu Qing being anywhere near as sappy as Hua Cheng and Xie Lian. Gross. 

Mu Qing came in to check in on him one more time before Feng Xin fell asleep that night. He offered to run Feng Xin a bath or help him out of his armour. This was really wracking Feng Xin’s brain in more than one way. Does Mu Qing think he’s back in Xianle and that Feng Xin is still Xie Lian because the way he’s taking care of him is so…so soft, gentle and caring. Like a loving person. Ha! Someone loving Feng Xin, to him that’s funny. Who would even love someone like him? And to Feng Xin, Mu Qing wasn’t a loving person. At all. 

But Mu Qing was so tender when he was around Feng Xin. He was so caring when he added sugar to the bitter tasting pain killing herbs to make it taste better. He was even more tender when he brushed Feng Xin’s hair for me. And he was so soft when made sure that the cold cloth —which alternated locations between his neck and forehead— was replaced whenever it heated up. Feng Xin definitely didn’t expect this.

At the crack of dawn, Feng Xin felt way better than he did yesterday. Of course, it didn’t completely disappear, but what was once a throbbing pain was now a dull ache that he could definitely manage on his own. His eyes didn’t practically start screaming at him the moment light was let in too, which was definitely a plus. He stretched his arms, which felt like he was ascending once more or something, because he was basically stiffer than that giant statue Xie Lian had that one time. At least that thing could actually move! Mu Qing helped him into the bath and that was about it. 

There was something weird about the palace though…It was a lot neater than Feng Xin left it. And did Mu Qing fucking tuck him in?! Everything that used to be scattered all over the floor was now neatly put away in places where logically you’d think you’d be able to find them. Everything down to his bathhouse was neatly organized. Now this was weird. Mu Qing helping him yesterday and willingly spending the day with him was already odd. Not even with him actually considering he spent the whole day playing doctor. He even went the extra mile to grab him some painkillers which did wonders and now his palace is neatly organized??? What the actual fuck. 

Placed on a table in the corner of the bathhouse was a note on a crumpled piece of paper. Feng Xin reluctantly picked up the piece of paper and did his best to straighten it by rubbing it against the table way more times than he actually needed to and almost ripped it. It read:

Feng Xin, your house was a literal nightmare to get around. Everything was everywhere and I literally couldn’t find anything. I have taken the honour of being the one to organize your welcome. I just wanted to add that taking care of you and rescuing you from that meeting made me realize I l-

-Mu Qing

After the “I l-“ the rest of the letter was scribbled and crossed out repeatedly like Mu Qing desperately didn’t want Feng Xin to read what he wrote. This left Feng Xin to only question what it was Mu Qing could possibly  have written. …I l- huh? I loathe you. Absolute loathing was all they felt for each other and that’s that! 

reblogs appreciated! Also cross posted on Ao3

[oksana-moods]

Queen of Promise - Part 10

Summary: The hell you were put through seems endless. 

A/N: To those who are still around: you are lovely. Please, make yourselves known, it’ll give some confidence and will certainly help with this detachment I’ve been feeling with writing. 

You’ll gona ask, what about part 11. I know. Well, I don’t know when we’ll see it, I’ll try to work on something the next few days, but as I said to that anon, I’m going through some work stuff and it’s draining a lot. Let’s hope for the best. 

Warning: Angst, blood, gore, torture?, mentions of death.

Previous Parts here

"Hopeless and taken"

There was something funny about the dark. How your eyes adjust to the environment to the point that first, you are able to discern things, later you can properly see things in the dark. And then, then you start to imagine it. 

But maybe the imagination part is not related to the darkness that enveloped you in that cold stoned dungeon at all. Maybe your hallucination was due something else entirely. 

Perhaps, how you could barely feel your toes because the weather started to show or how you hadn’t properly eaten ever since they left you in this hellhole had something to do with these things you supposed you’re imagining.

Or that rat really ate something that lingered around a piece of bone long forgotten in the corner and you swore there were no other leftovers except your own flesh, it probably would be the next thing that animal was going to eat. See, it was hard to tell one thing from another in the dark. 

Also, in the dark, it was really easy to lose track of time. There were no windows, and usually dungeons are held underground, there wouldn’t be any windows, that’s why you didn’t know whether it was day or night. 

Furthermore, it’s pretty hard to grasp how much time has passed while you’re out of consciousness. You don’t say you sleep, because this way, you’d be outstretching this word and its meaning. No. It was understandable even, you know you pass out after your body gives up due to exhaustion, hunger or because you’re beaten until you can’t stand anymore.

There was a lot to say about the dark, and you didn’t like it at all, but the dark is doable. The silence though, was something else. 

It was deafening. It was maddening. 

The silence remained imperturbable. 

Except for the occasional sound of rats and mice fighting for some dirt somewhere your eyes often couldn’t reach, the sound of your chains clicking when you moved or the eventual whimper you failed to conceal in the depths of your despair. 

There was no other sound.

After a while, your heart began to process the situation you were in. Alone, thrown into a cell, all the respect due to someone like you had been neglected. Not that you expected to be treated like a princess of your status should, but at least, you supposed you should be treated fairly, at least. 

However, reality was far worse than the things you believed were fair. 

You had experienced war, fights, battles, treason attempting, riot and several other crises throughout your short life as a ruler aspirer, by the gods, you even endured to be held as prisoner before. 

Yet, nothing compared to the taste Wanda’s betrayal left in your mouth.

Maybe you were being silly, sulking into your misery instead of putting up a fight or trying to find a way out of this nightmare. Perhaps you should be doing these things, trying to turn the tide of events to your favor, however, there isn't a single bone capable of keeping going. You were paralyzed. 

Frozen in time and place, your head still insisted on wrapping itself around the last events, filled with thousands of questions that you knew you probably wouldn’t get any answer to. Have you been naive for falling in love, or have you been just reckless? 

When did Wanda decide that you were the weakest point in this whole story? Was this play obvious to everybody that you would fall for a lie incarnated in a perfect body with a beautiful face? 

Maria did warn you, though. Maybe it was obvious to everybody else except to you. 

Certainly, if you had your head in the right place, you would find this embarrassing. However, right then and there, you realized it was just sad, because to you Wanda was everything, and all she’s done was use you for her personal purposes. You were just a prey that failed running off the huntress.

Time seemed to drag itself at a snail's pace, but then again, you didn’t even know how much time had passed. For all you knew, it could be a month already. Even if you were able to count a hundred of days, you supposed your mind wouldn’t stop its assault with the thoughts of Wanda. 

It was all too impressive the way your heart still yearned for the woman, even though your feelings were shattered on the floor, broken beyond repair. Too bad something so good took this unexpected turn and the bitter taste was just another reminder of how unbelievable this was. 

How unfortunate your heart happened to be in the middle of everything.

All those beautiful moments you had shared were nothing but a ploy, a set up built on lies. And you wondered how long it would take for you to swallow down your throat the shards of your ego that threatened to choke you or to pick up the shreds of your heart poured in the wind.

The salty, ironed copper taste was the first thing your mind was aware of as it drifted back into consciousness. Usually the cold, hard ground felt like a twisted, sick embrace to your beaten body, except, you awoke on your feet, body hanging from the ceiling by the chains. 

The dim light reaching your eyes creeped from the creak between door and floor betrayed the torches burning in the corridors. It could only mean one thing. It was late and someone would be walking through these halls. Other than this, the heavy door made with iron never allowed you a simple glance of anything else. 

Besides, maybe, by the small opening in the middle that was usually closed except when the guards opened it to come and check up on you. It always made you feel like an animal in a zoo, and you supposed you were the main attraction in this godforsaken place. It was almost disrespectful the number of times they came to see if you were in the same place. 

As if you could go anywhere else.

The chains hanging from the ceiling were their first guarantee that you couldn’t move more than a foot unless they loosened it enough for you to lay down on the floor. This mercy was granted only for a few hours. 

They made sure you wouldn’t mistake your staying as an unwanted vacation in the Northern Castle. And this was definitely not your winter cabin to enjoy the glamor of the current season. You were a prisoner after all, not a guest.

And then, perhaps worse than everything else, there was the smell.

The room ricked to death, rot, and body fluids. The smell was awful. Sick. It made your stomach churn, and your vomit was a new addition to the horrid smell impregnating the walls, your clothes, skin and nose. Hell, even your brain was probably infected with this stank.

It hadn’t been long, you mused, but your clothes were wasted already, torn to shreds. Your hair clang to your head and face due sweat and blood, and you knew dirt was just another layer of your skin by now.

However, no matter how fucking dreadful your situation was, no matter how fucking awful you were feeling. Nothing would ever compare to the feeling of Wanda’s betrayal.

Right on your first day, Vision had come to your cell to gloat and brag about your stupidity and naivety of falling on their plan like a deer hunted by a huntress. Every word stung deep and deeper on your entire being, but you wouldn’t let it show.

That’s why you decided to headbutt him, which earned you the pleasant view of his face contorted in pain and embarrassment. But as the blood slid from his nose, blood slid from you too.

With an incredible amount of stamina, strength and hatred Lord James Barnes, pleasantly, whipped your back until your legs gave in and you couldn’t keep up by yourself anymore. Blood splattered on the floor, over the walls and even his face.

The wicked smirk present on Vision’s face turned into a satisfied grin once your low grunts of pain became higher, though never really screaming, he contented himself with your humiliation after you couldn’t stand on your own anymore.

Obviously, you were ashamed of showing any sort of weakness before your enemy, this was one of the first lessons you were taught when younger. The shame burned just as the wounds on your back burned with an angry fire as if your skin was boiling from inside out.

Still, it didn’t burn or hurt as much as the thought of Wanda.

The memories of your moments with Wanda Maximoff assaulted your brain mercilessly, without invitation, without stop. Nothing could erase the feel of her touch or her lips. No matter how hard you tried, though brief, your time with the Princess of Sokovia was beyond intense.

You’d experienced love for the first time. It was fast and strong like wildfire; it was only obvious that the devastation in its wake would be just the same.

You didn’t even need to be dropped in a cell to rot into oblivion to be punished because your broken heart was punishment enough. No matter how many physical assaults the Sokovians could think of it would still be nothing after what Wanda did.

Your internal whimper came to a halt when you heard the dungeons floor clicking with the sound of shoes. You weren’t aware if you were the only one in these chambers, but you knew better. This would be Vision, coming for another nice chatter.

He must be bored.

“Lioness, good to see you awake.” The man hissed as he entered the cell you were in. One would expect to be treated like someone of your status would, but this was a piece of Hell on earth. Sokovia didn’t regard the nobles as the other realms did.

Therefore, you didn’t reply. You stood there eying him with disdain, gritting your jaw and silently pleading to the gods to give you strength to not break his nose again. You could endure the pain, but you weren’t mad. Yet.

“Hm, not feeling so talkative today, are you?” Sir Rumlow snarled a few feet from you and in a span of milliseconds, your body moved so fast that one would think that you acted on instinct.

In a blink of an eye, your hands gripped the chains holding your wrists and with an unexpected force, you lifted your body and dropped your legs around Rumlow’s neck. You pressed your thighs hard against his head and the feeble lights coming from the torches allowed you to see his face turning purple due lack of air.

Lord Barnes stopped you from killing the man after he punched your ribs with the hilt of his sword. The searing pain ripped the air out of your lunges and your legs automatically left the knight’s neck and sought to support your body.

You were granted, though, with his embarrassed eyes, coughing lightly due the pressure your legs had put on his throat. You smiled lightly, taking this as little victory to your personal score of vengeance.

The good feeling was short lived, for Vision took one step closer to you, though a little more preoccupied about your fighting skills even chained to the ceiling like you were, and his smirk was on. 

You’re yet to see this man without that smirk and you knew, somehow, that he posed like that because he thinks he’s won the war.

Maybe he did.

“I wouldn’t be so smug If I were you.” His eyes darted around the place as if to indicate that there was nothing to be amused about. “You’re still in this hellhole and I can see your face stained with tears.”

His expression morphed into a mockery of a dramatical sad face, lips now facing downwards and only then you were aware that you had cried. And you hated to show another sign of weakness to the man that was exceedingly fast becoming your archenemy.

Yet, you knew so little about him.

“Why are you so sad?” He asked rhetorically and pretended to search his head for possible reasons why you weren’t feeling so super lately. The nerve of this man. 

“Is it because mommy isn’t here to clean her baby?” He mocked, then continued. “Is it because you weren’t as smart as you thought you were? Or…” His eyes went wide as if realization clicked in his head right then and there.

“Awn you truly thought she loved you, Lioness?” He laughed. He had the gall to laugh off your feelings, but you let him. “Know that in a couple of moons, I’ll have Wanda’s hand and you’ll be nothing in my memory or hers. Barely a nuisance long forgotten.” He made a movement of dismissing with his hands, but your tongue was sharper than his words.

Shrugging your shoulders, the best you could chained to the ceiling, you replied. “If you don’t mind where her hand was.” You were hurting but you would not give this man the satisfaction of seeing you broken. He’d see strength, nothing else.

However, you couldn’t deny that his words had an effect on you, you couldn’t deny that you were hurting and the idea of Wanda marrying this idiot hurt beyond explanation. Somehow, your stupid heart still hoped that this was a trick, or anything else but truth.

Jealousy simmered through your veins and stomach. Jealousy, confusion and betrayal. Was this her plan all along or did you do something that changed her heart?   

The days you shared that house with the Princess of Sokovia were magical, past perfection. There was no word to describe the woman who owned your heart nor the moments of complicity, love and tender you had experienced. Too bad it was just a lie.

It was all but a lie.

And Vision made his job to remind you of that. She had lied to you, deceived you into a ruse just so they could lock you up and request a ransom deal. It was slimier than thousands of snakes. And you fell for that.

The wedding, though, was only a confirmation that you were stupid and fell for a woman that played you around like a ragdoll and didn’t even have the guts to come down to this piece of hell and look you in the face.

What for, though? To mock you? To laugh at your poor state? Maybe it was a mercy not having her present to rub it on your face.

But what you could and wanted to do was to bring the man standing tall in front of you down, lower than where you were now. And the good thing about rock bottom was just this, there was nothing holding you back. 

“Tell me, Vision, do you taste me whenever she kisses you?” Your grin was clearly smug, you bare your teeth more like fangs ready to pierce a piece of flesh of those who dared to think that only because you were locked imagined you were tamed. Far from it.

He punches you, hard, but the anger boiling in his eyes was your prize. “Could you be more vulgar? You speak like a whore.”

Suddenly, you realized that physical pain was a solace from your internal misery. Maybe if you pushed his buttons hard enough, he’d kill you then you wouldn’t have to live with all this pain you were forced to deal with inside your heart.

A renewed salty, ironed copper taste danced on your mouth and his only answer was a blooded grin to his rhetorical question. You spat the blood on his shoes and asked another question. “Does she call my name whenever you fuck? Or does she call you babe afraid of making a mistake?”

Another set of punches and screams of anger and you could only laugh. Oh poor man, maybe Wanda didn’t love him either and she could very well be a woman playing with both hearts. If yes, he deserved it. Maybe a twisted god would say that you deserved it too.

“Stop.” A new voice was heard above the noise of fist hitting flesh and irritated mutters from Vision.

You had heard a lot about him. Official stories, reports, songs sung by bards, memories from Wanda and a lot else, but this was the first time you properly saw him.

Pietro Maximoff was a handsome man, and the stories did him justice when it comes to regal stance and beauty. He walked as if he had everything figured out just like a King should.

The knights Barnes and Rumlow bowed instantly, dropping to their knees but Vision limited himself to turn and look at the man as if he were annoyed by the interruption. He probably was annoyed. He probably wanted to kill you.

“Lord Vision, I believe I already informed you about my concerns involving our hostage.” The exacerbated formal tone caught your attention. Pietro was a king, yes. But this was a prison, he didn’t have to act all regal in a place that stank more than any sewer.

“You have, my king, I was only having a conversation with her.” He side-eyed you as if to engrave your distasteful state into his brain for later, as if this meant he had won. 

“I see.” Pietro looks at you and you expect mockery, some snarky comment but nothing comes. “Leave, please.” He demands. “All of you.” The men were ready to protest but his somber expression left no room for any argument.

He didn’t know whether you were dangerous or not. Just as you had only heard about him, he had only heard about you and to step inside your cell without an escort or visible blade told you he was brave. Or he was a reckless fool. 

“The tales credited you a few inches higher, I’m afraid.” Pietro finally says something directed at you after a while sizing you up and down.

You spat another amount of blood, that hit the floor, for his shoes were keeping a wise distance from you. “Maybe you’re confused with my sword’s size, Your Highness.”

He looks at you for a moment, then chuckles. “Ahh ever the brave cub that keeps roaring even on a leash.” Despite the grin on his face, his words dripped with sarcasm.

“Did you come here to kill me already or will you keep mocking me until I die of boredom?” Your impatience was visible. It’s been too long and no one told you what was going to happen. Except for Vision telling you he’d marry the princess.

Certainly, you wouldn’t be held in this place forever. You were too much of a precious prize for that.

Again, Pietro chuckled and clicked his tongue as if disagreeing with your idea. “You know how these things work; I can’t kill you. You’re too valuable.” He patronized and you wished he was closer so you could headbutt him as well. You didn’t mind if your temper could get you killed, you were past the point of caring for what’s stored for your future.

Then, your head stopped thinking about your broken heart for a second and understood what they planned. A ransom deal that would grant them everything that they wanted. They’d redraw borders and Taharr would lose a lot.

In a futile attempt to discourage him, you lied. “She’ll never negotiate with you because of me.” It was plain and obvious to every person that ever heard about Queen Calanthe that she’d trade her soul to protect her children.

Again, Pietro tsks because he knew his enemy’s greatest weakness. “You know that’s not true. And if something were to happen to you, I’m sure Queen Calanthe would gather every capable person to fight, every sword, march north and stop for nothing until she has my head in a spike after breaking brick by brick down.” He explained, rather amused at the idea he painted with his mind eye. Though you knew she’d do exactly what he had said and more.

“I bet she’s already restless knowing you’re my hostage.” He crossed his arms and looked at you again. “But I gave her my word that you’ll be back alive, unscathed, the moment we draw new borders.”

Unscathed.

Sokovians probably needed an update of the meaning of this word. Despite calling you hostage, you were a prisoner, and it was only obvious you were paying for your crimes and sins. One of them, the worst of them, was your little romance with Wanda.

You closed your eyes at his words. Your fears proved to be true, you’d be the demise of entire families, not to mention how much your kingdom would lose because of you, because you couldn’t keep your pants on. People would suffer and that would be your fault, so much so for trying to stop the war.

“What did you ask?” You questioned through gritted teeth. “The highlands above Ororo’s Fortress?” In your head, it was only reasonable, because that would represent a great deal of farms and the heart of the golden mines.

Your train of thought was interrupted by his voice, though. “Everything above Red Widow Valley.” He smirked triumphantly as your eyes widened.

“That’s outrageous! She’ll never agree with that.” They were asking for more than a half of Taharr’s territory. The farms, the people, everyone who depended and relied on Taharr to not starve would suffer. Guilt weighted on your shoulders like heavy iron.

“She already has.” He stated simply, with a smug grin hanging in his mouth.

“You’re probably thinking so high of yourself, aren’t you?” You looked at him with eyes cold as ice and continued. “You play war as if your people were nothing, you play with a mother’s love…” A scornful look morphed your semblance. “But it’s pitiful that you had to use your own sister to get you what you failed to.”

At the mention of Wanda, his chill demeanor turned into a flame of anger. “You do not get to talk about my sister.” He yelled and you spat the blood on your mouth on the floor once again, this time, you realized he was much closer than before. “You played enough with her and had fun. Now go back to the whores waiting for you in Taharr.”

He dared to speak with you as if you were the one playing her heart when, in fact, she was taking piece by piece of you these past months.

All the hate in you flared. 

You wanted to hurt Pietro the same way you were hurting. All you wanted to do was to enumerate the despicable things you did in that bedroom with her. How you fucked her, how you had your way with her, and she still begged for you to fuck her harder.

You wanted to bring Wanda’s name lower than a whore’s, for, at least, with a whore you only get what you’re paying for. There was an urge in your heart compelling you to disclose your intimacy until his cheeks burned the same way your heart did from all the stabbing Wanda gave you.

But, in the end, you didn’t even have in you the strength to fight anymore let alone to pose as someone else other than a broken woman with a broken heart.

For once, there wasn’t in you that fire that was always present, that fire that compelled you to fight and stop only if Death claimed your body as hers. For once, the wild lioness couldn’t roar anymore.

“I loved your sister, Pietro.” Devoid of any humor or sarcasm, you spoke the truth of your heart. Why? There was nothing else left. “Even though she lured me to fuck with me and get your goddamn deal. We both know she was the one using me, instead of the other way around.”

Something shone behind Pietro’s eyes, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They were so alike and at the same time they were so different that your brain short-circuited. When he spoke, there wasn’t mockery or sarcasm either. Which surprised you.

“Did you really fall in love, Young Lioness?”

He was close and you could finally headbutt him, but you were so devoid of fight or self-respect that you relented. Every single one of your mother’s rules went out of the window. That tale of not showing your enemy what’s in your heart? Or not showing your weakness? There was no point in hiding anymore.

You were defeated.

“How could I have not?”

—

The travel to the south was murderously slow.

As your retinue passed the villages that still belonged to Taharr but in a few weeks would belong to Sokovia, your heart broke over and over. You could swear that people looked at you with disapproving eyes at your actions even though they couldn’t really see you inside the wagon. Or know what you have done. Yet.

You hated wagons and asked to ride a horse, but they considered that you could run and disappear somewhere once in Taharr’s lands. They were probably right.

You hadn’t thought about escaping, but that idea would, most certainly, occur any time after you were surrounded by your kingdom’s vegetation, forests or villages. You knew basically everything about your territory, and this would obviously be an advantage.

Hence the wagon. And your boredom.

If the constant visits of Vision were a pain in the ass, not having visits at all were far worse if that makes any sense. You hated the man for gloating or mocking you but at least you could hate him and not suffer alone as you did when you were all by yourself.

Your wounds were treated before you could march south and the food was no longer distasteful, it was only bad. Which was a huge improvement, considering you still stayed in your cell with that smell, no longer chained to the ceiling. 

Your routine of self-loathing was only disturbed by the guards serving you food, for not even King Pietro or one of the knights came to your cell again. Natasha Romanoff never showed up at your cell, doesn’t even need to mention that you never caught sight of Wanda, not even a glimpse of that auburn hair.

When you finally reached Triskelion, it felt like every single person was on the streets to see the Sokovian legion arriving at the Castle, something unheard of since the early days of the Golden Accords.

Only the noble dignitaries and their protection unit were allowed inside the castle walls, as for the rest of the Sokovians prepared their camp somewhere on the left side of the main wall, outside the Keeper itself, where your people would keep an eye on their movements day and night.

You expected loath and hatred in your mother’s eyes, but you were surprised when you saw relief. You had been reckless like never before and you were sure you’d be punished for it, yet it never came. Somehow, it made you feel worse. You didn’t deserve compassion.

“Oh darling, I’m so glad you’re back home.” Her kind words warmed your heart, that so desperately needed some love and rest.

Loki’s face was pale, and you knew he hadn’t been sleeping or eating properly. Just like when you were taken by the Kree and Witch Harkness, Loki probably thought you’d die, and he’d lose his sister. It pained you that you caused him more distress.

Maria and Carol greeted you with the same intensity as they chastised you and that brought a sense of normalcy that put your heart at ease.

The following days you were treated by the castle doctors, and you took your time to heal and rest. Your bed never felt so welcoming, but you couldn’t take from your head the memory of Wanda’s. How soft and how warm her duvets were whenever she laid by your side.

It was obvious that your feelings for her would take a long, long time to fade off. If ever.

As the negotiations advanced, you could sense the restlessness building up on the room full of nobles. Taharrians and Sokovians.

While the latter wanted to move on fast and redraw the borders, Taharrians insisted that they needed to wait for King Tony’s approval of the new border and, especially, King T’Challa’s arrival, for he had requested to be present for the negotiations.

It was only reasonable. Taharr had a peaceful agreement with both Kingdom’s about borders but when it comes to the Embaku’s Forest on the east between Wakanda and Taharr, things were even more complicated than that.

Wakandans believed this forest was sacred and their spirits wandered about the trees to connect again so they could guide their people into prosperity. Your mother and your past relatives always respected their beliefs and never invaded or hunted anywhere near the forest.

King T’Challa, however, wanted to make sure the Sokovians would understand and respect this as well. But if you had learnt anything at all, it is that Sokovians loved a good scheme, were power-hungry and untrustworthy.

Especially untrustworthy.

Your back ached and your bones screamed with every turn and strike you managed with your sword, just as it did with every blow parried by your shield. You looked around bewildered; only moments ago there was a group of nobles discussing new terms and agreements which, somehow, erupted into a fight.

And, with the increasing numbers of Sokovians flooding the halls and chambers of Triskelion, you knew this was an invasion. Someone opened the gates and now a crimson and silver legion inundated your home.

Anger filled you whole and your chest wanted to burst. How many times would you be betrayed by a Sokovian?

You saw Maria running like a wild mare trying to get the Taharrian troops into the castle, for there were only a few units serving as patrol and escort. With Lord Barton lost, deceased or prisoner, information yet unknown, his legion was still adjusting to the new commander so they would take time to arrive.

Lord Wilson fought by your side, and this was probably an order from your mother. You wouldn’t complain this time though, your body was still trying to recover from dehydration, starvation, and from the physical and emotional slaughter.

You tried and failed to get a glimpse of your mother’s whereabouts, because the sea of red was overwhelming. The castle was cramped, so much so that it felt like the air filling your lunges wasn’t enough.

A sword came dangerously close to your head, but you blocked it in the nick of the time. This wouldn’t be a great time to get headless, you mused. With extreme difficulty, and great effort, you pushed back the Sokovians out of the Castle.

They were strong, organized and knew exactly what to do. This was odd. There was a traitor among Taharrians, and you couldn’t, for the life in you, think who would be capable of such absurdity.

From the castle walls it was possible to see Sokovians outside the Main Wall reinforced with two units that belonged to Hydrarr trying to organize a siege, it was definitely odd. If Hydrarr was responsible for stealing and burning Sokovian’s farms, how were they friends now?

Something didn’t add up.

The attempt of railing and controlling the castle backfired and with the arrival of Wakanda’s retinue, Sokovians and Hydrarrians got caught between your troops and the Wakandans. The whole fight lasted almost a day, but you finally stopped the enemies and forced their retreat to the north.

It was certainly a coup.

There were far too many soldiers on your escort in the first place and, even if they were afraid of insurgents as they had said, there were far too many units for a simple border draw. The group of nobles representing Sokovia was made of low-ranking nobles, no one really important to lose in a fight and, except for Sir Rumlow, you didn’t know who they really were.

Sokovians and Hydrarrians tried to overthrow your mother in the most violent and less honorable way possible. The gods should be thanked that the Wakandans arrived in time.

You searched the castle after your mother, but she was nowhere to be seen and even people who saw her fighting said they lost track of her. There was this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that something was wrong, very much so.

There were people, friend or foe, being carried to the medical bays to be attended to. As were the bodies. After you left the great hall and reached the main corridor, your heart sank when you saw Lady Carol kneeled beside the lifeless body of Knight Belova.

Knight Yelena Belova was one of the fiercest warriors in the whole continent. First, she served as spy, then requested to serve as knight and soon was graced with the honor of being one the Queen’s protector. The most noble and valuable warrior. And now she was laying on the ground in a poodle of blood surrounded by enemies’ bodies.

She fell fighting like a giant, you thought. However, you hated yourself for not paying the proper respect to her service and sacrifice because all you could think of was your mother.

A trail of blood not far from Belova guided you to another room, a few steps away from where you were now. As soon as your eyes landed on the figure in red and white clothes laying on the floor, you felt as though your heart’s going to explode right then and there.

You ran towards your mother, but it felt like your feet were moving through the water.

The second you reached her, you sank to your knees and only then you saw Loki sobbing by her side. He had her head over his lap and held her hand tight. You grabbed the other and it was cold, sickening cold.

“Mother.” You cried but there was no answer. You hoped she’d crack a smile or maybe simply look at you, but she didn’t move, she didn’t open her eyes. “Mother!” You called, urgently, this time. As if some energy could wake her up.

“Sister.” Loki called. His tone was already mourning, grieving, as if to tell you the truth. A truth that you couldn’t take or accept.  

“No.” You replied, shaking your head as if throwing a tantrum right then would make any difference, as if it could change fate. As if it could change the fact that your mother was gone and you weren’t there for her, even if to hold her and see the light fading from her eyes.

Your body shook terribly as though your soul was about to slip through your pores. She died a hero’s death, fighting. As she always said she wanted, but you couldn’t believe it, and in a selfish thought, you realized she was gone without teaching you everything you needed.

She was gone when you needed her the most. After all, you would always need her. She was your hero, your beacon. 

“Sister,” He tried again. “She’s gone.” His voice had an edge of something, as if he was trying to convince himself. You took him in and saw his robes stained with blood but no visible weapon, though it didn’t look like he was hurt.

“What happened?” You averted your gaze from your mother and met his. There was so much going on behind his eyes that kept your attention until they finally focused. He was lost and so were you.

It was all your fault. If you hadn’t decided to sneak into Wolfgang City, you wouldn’t have gotten caught and this absurd ploy orchestrated by the Sokovians or Hydrarrians wouldn’t have existed. If this deal had never happened, your mother would still be alive.

Hot tears slipped down your face freely, you were responsible for her death in the same way whoever wielded the sword that took her life was. Grief already soaked your bones as all you could think was everything you did wrong.

“I- I- tried, but-.” Loki tried to speak, but his voice trembled just like his body. He was in shock.

“You saw who did this?” Your voice brought his eyes back to you, he was confused and hurting, yet there was something about his expression that brought that uneasiness back to your stomach.

“Ru- Rumlow. I- I- think.” He stuttered more so sobbed the answer as he used his sleeve to clean the blood, sweat and tears staining his face. Then, you took him in and his clothes properly.

“Loki…” Your brother wasn’t a warrior per se, but with an invasion like the one they had just witnessed it was only reasonable that he’d be sporting a chest blade or shield at least. But there was nothing visible around him. Not even a blade or his famous scepter. “Where's your armor?”

Your tone startled him. His eyes darted around like a cornered animal. “Where were you this whole time?” You asked because you couldn’t remember his whereabouts ever since the breakfast that he, uncharacteristically, skipped.

“I- hm. I was-.” Stutter is not a trait that you’d ever associate with him. His demeanor shifted from shocked to someone realizing they’re on thin ice.

Your patience waned off instantly.

“Spill it out.” You hissed and it was absurd that you were about to argue with your brother over your mother’s dead body, but his behavior was too strange for you to ignore. Or you were just too paranoid by this point.

“I- Please, sister, you have to believe me. None of this was meant to happen.” His voice waved, he was about to cry again and the lump forming on your throat made it impossible for you to breathe properly. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You blinked. His words resonated in your ear as your brain tried to process every single word and what they really meant. You started to shake your head as they sank in, already dismissing the possibility of what was being presented before you. “Are you telling me you’re involved in this?”

“No.” He bellowed, as if your accusation was outrageous. “Oh gods, this is so messed up.” His eyes shot to the ceiling for a second then, they focused on yours again. “I was supposed to facilitate their entry, but they weren’t supposed to touch you. Or mother.” Loki’s eyes were hollow, haunted by his own actions.

You knew that. You could see it. His guilt was consuming him already, but you too were being consumed.

“You betrayed us, Loki! Your mother! Your sister! Your kingdom! And for what?” You grabbed him by the front of his robes and shook him violently, as if the action could knock some sense into his head.

“All I wanted was what is mine by right! I am a King with no kingdom.” He yelled, slapping your hands away from him. “They betrayed me.”

His slap hurt just as the weight of his words did. Though deeply hurting, anger was the only feeling accessible in that moment. “King of what, Loki?” Anger was the only feeling that you could rely on to not fall apart entirely, so you held onto it and let it course through you like the blood you had in your veins.

“In Jotunheim I’d be a King!” He puffed his chest as if it was plain obvious and anger boiled in him due your lack of understanding. And how could you? Loki thought. You were born and raised to be a queen, his unfaithful fate was barely a nuisance to you.

“In Jotunheim you’d be dead!” It was your turn to shout and bring him out of his head, bring him back to reality.

“Can’t you see that this is my birthright?” He asked, almost in a plea and you shook your head vehemently, as if he was being a stupid child.

“And you thought that overthrowing your mother, the woman that raised you as her own child, was the right way of achieving it?” Your head tilted to the side with your sarcastic question, and he opened his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done yet.

“As far as I know, Jotunheim is deep in a civil war again after the eighth in line killed the sixth. The third is crippled in a bed waiting for death’s mercy and all the others died, except for you, the seventh in line. And that’s because of her.”

Every word leaving your mouth felt like a double edge knife. Cutting him just as deep as it was cutting you. Tears streamed down his face as the bigger picture downed in his brain.

“I- I- sister, I beg you. You have to understand, I never wanted this to happen.” He was torn, his decisions would be the grave his grief would bury him in. “Please, forgive me.” He pleaded, suffering in advance.

Now his fate lies in your hands.

“No Loki.” You opened your mouth to continue, but you were devastated and devoid of words or strength to keep talking.

His eyes shot up and searched yours for something, anything. But there was just emptiness.

“No. There must be a way! You are my sister…” His eyes darted around, then focused on yours as he tried again. “Please, tell me what I should do. Anything and I’ll fix it-.”

You stared back at him as he searched his intelligent brain for a way to be forgiven. May your mother forgive you someday, but you couldn’t deal with it anymore.

“Run, Loki.” Your voice broke the silence, and he frowned at your answer or their meaning. “Run and don’t you dare to ever come back.” Your voice did not waver once, unlike how you really felt inside your heart.

“But I- you don’t-.” He stuttered once more, pale with the horrors he had just seen and with the horrors he would face as soon as he left the castle. Loki knows he’d be wanted and hunted down like a mad dog if he decided to stay in Taharr and knew that he’d be dead the second he stepped in Jotunheim territory.

Hells, without the queen’s protection, wherever he decided to go would be too dangerous for him. He was doomed.

Your disgust was evident when you interrupted him. “You don’t understand what your greed did to me. I lost my mother and my brother at the same time.” Sadness emerged in your eyes for the briefest of moments before you finished your sentence. “Leave immediately, you don’t belong to this kingdom anymore.”

Turning your back on him, you laid on the floor right by your mother's side and stood there. The cold of the marble floor impregnating your skin as her blood soaked your clothes, your soul and heart.

Despite the words spoken towards Loki, you knew you were just as guilty as he or Sir Rumlow was. Your greed brought your mother’s demise just as your brother’s did.

Your greed of thinking that you could end the war. The greed of thinking, wishing even, that you were allowed to love. Greed of believing that Wanda fell for you the way you did for her, when, in turn, you should’ve known better.

As you wept and mourned your dear mother, you remembered the last conversation you had had with her. If you only knew it’d be your last.

The what ifs would drive you mad before the sun rose in the horizon, for sure.

“I’m sorry mother. I failed.” Your voice was low, a far cry from your usually confident self.

“You did.” She stated as she offered you the cup of tea. “That makes you human.”

You smiled at her. Maybe she got too scared of losing her daughter, for she was being too subtle and forgiving in a way that was mostly out of character for her.

“You see, love, life is not an easy game to play.” She patted you on your face lightly, as she always did when she needed you to look intently at her and show you tenderness at the same time. “As a ruler, as a future queen, the path is even more tortuous.”

“Do you mean tortuous as complex or devious?” You took a sip from the liquid as lavender invaded your nostrils. Chamomile and lavender, she knew you hadn’t been sleeping. Of course she did.

“Both.” She smiled softly.

“Are you going to punish me?” You blatantly asked, almost ignoring what she had said. But you absorbed her words and their meaning. Life would be – was – difficult and deceitful at the same time.

You watched as Calanthe had the gall to laugh at your question, but then she shook her head lightly. “I believe you’re already doing it for yourself, love.” She patted your knee as she took a seat by your side.

The trees on the fields ahead were long naked, devoid of their leaves or fruits due winter, yet they were still beautiful, somehow.

“I was a fool and now our people will pay the price.” Your words were harsh, but not directed at her. It was all directed at you.

“They probably will, but you must not forget about the others under your command. If you keep looking at what you lost, you may lose even more by neglecting what you still have.” Her wisdom reached your ears and heart, but you retorted.

“How can we rebuild from this low?” Your voice resembled a child facing a puzzle or a challenge they cannot solve on their own and she smiled kindly at you, she probably saw it the same way.

“Well, love, I’ve learnt a long, long time ago to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring.” She spoke, not looking at you this time, but to the trees ahead on the fields.

“What?” You requested clarification and she gave it to you.

“You see how the trees always lose their leaves and get pruned over the winter? This is natural and the trim is a must so their branches can grow stronger. When spring arrives, the beauty returns to the trees, and they’ll grow whole again, with leaves, flowers, fruits…” The queen explained, all the while with a tender smile on her face, as though she’s explaining the meaning of life to an infant.

And, in fact, she was.

“You’re facing your winter, love, you’re getting pruned, and I know it hurts. But you’ll come back whole, you just must be patient and wait for the spring.” Her hand rested on yours and gave it a light squeeze. “Your kingdom will spring too, you just need to work through its winter.”

As her words sank in, your spirit felt renewed with a sense of duty and obligation to your people. You’d fight for their safety, and you’d work on deals to grant the families the decision to choose which realm they’d live in.   

Nodding slightly, you replied. “I will.”

“I expect nothing different.” The warmth provided by her hand and words were so welcomed that had you closing your eyes. You missed home, especially, you missed your mother. “And to answer your question, I could never punish you for following your heart.”

You opened your eyes to see her dark orbs boring into yours with the same tenderness that she used to look at you after falling from your horse when you were still learning how to ride. They were intense, they were protective, they were everything you could focus on.

Out of everything you could or should say, your chest spoke first. “Will it hurt like this forever, mother?” Right then and there, you were only a child scared of their first time hurt and she softened her features even more.

“Oh love,” She hugged you and you reveled on the warmth provided by her embrace and love. “I’m afraid I don’t have the answer for this, as my short experience with your father, I still miss him.” You took a deep breath. Your father isn’t often mentioned, it was like an open wound how he died so soon after your birth.

“I feel so stupid for being lured into that trap.” Your voice was muffled by her chest as she caressed your head, fingertips playing with the baby hairs growing on your hairline.

“You shouldn’t feel stupid for having feelings.” She kissed your forehead lightly, then resumed her ministrations. It was soothing, healing. “If anything it shows me you have a heart.”

“I hate her for what she did to me, and I hate that I can’t hate her.” You felt her chest moving, she chuckled at your words and their ambiguity. You drew back to look at her in the eyes and spoke again. “I mean it, I- I hate her and love her at the same damn time.”

You sighed and relented, for you had finally come out with your true feelings. You didn’t count that desperate and pitiful confession to Pietro. “Because only love can hurt like this, right?” You asked and again, you looked like a youngling about to enter a maze. Insecure and scared.

She nodded, trying to bite back the emotion striking her chest, as a mother she hated everything you had been through. As a mother, she hated the marks – visible or not – the Sokovian princess had caused you. As a mother, your suffering was physically painful for her to testify.

As a queen, though, she knew this was a lesson you had to learn. As a queen, she knew this would only make you tougher, no matter how daunting everything looked now. As a queen, she knew this was a path for you to understand – fully – how one single action has its burdens.

“You should make Loki next in line, for I’m not fit to be a queen.” Your blunt words brought her out of her head, and she blinked several moments before speaking.

“Where’s this coming from?” Her head turned fast to look at you, to look you in the eye and maybe pierce the answer herself.

Completely uncomfortable, you shrugged your shoulders avoiding eye contact at any cost. However, you gave her the answer she had requested. “Look at the mess I’ve made, look at the mess I am.”

With the corner of your eye, you saw her frown for a moment, then spoke. “I see a strong woman and nothing less. As for the mess, Pietro can have the gold, love, but he’ll eventually learn that he can’t eat metal in winter.”

Her hand softly touched yours, the comfort of the gesture couldn’t be measured in words, in fact, you thought your chest could burst with unshed tears, as if you were just a child weeping after their hurt knee. Though you couldn’t. You weren’t just a child anymore.

“As for the mess, you made a mistake. Do you think I’m perfect?” She completed after your silence, staring at your intertwined hands. You didn’t have to look up to see a small smile creeping to her lips.

“I do.” You replied sincerely and finally looked at her.

Almost out of character, the queen laughed. A wholehearted laugh erupted from her chest. “Thank you, but no, I did a lot and still do nowadays. When we make a choice, it can be good or bad. You just must live long enough to see which one is and have courage enough to fight to make it right, to make another choice hoping it’s for the best.”

Her index finger touched your nose softly, just like she used to when you were younger when she wanted to make a point. To point at you. “And you, love, you’re the bravest person I have ever met.”

“My courage just gets me in trouble, mother.” It was your turn to frown and look at her as if to double check if she weren’t mocking you. You had a lot of courage, indeed. You never backed down from a fight, never settled for the easy thing to do but the right one. Yeah, and there was always a huge problem hunting after your tail.

“You were brave enough to love your enemy, this tells me much.” Her words caught you out of guard, but a fond smile told she wasn’t mocking, or mad, it was as if she appreciated your stupid decisions. “That’s no easy feature and that’s why I know you’ll protect and be kind to our people. Your kingdom.”

“It’s your kingdom, my queen.” Your brows were furrowed again, not quite liking her tone or the direction this conversation was taking.  

“One day it will be yours, love.” A satisfied smirk punctuating her sentence.

A hand violently shaking your shoulder brought your head back to present and the pain coursing through your chest was now back on full force. Your eyes snapped open and found the source of the hand being Lady Maria Rambeau.

“Oh by the gods you’re alive.” The woman spoke at your movement, fussing all over to find a wound. “You’re so pale and there’s so much blood…” Her voice trailed off at the end, cementing your heart with the painful truth.

“Maria, she- she’s gone.” You sobbed and her eyes softened tons at your broken voice and expression.

“I know.” She spoke gently while trying to make you get up from where you were laying. “And now I need you to rise from the ground, my Queen.”

The weight of her words hit you like a spear piercing your heart. The weight of your destiny fell on your shoulders like a blanket made of ice-cold metal.

“How?” You asked dumbly. You were not sure whether she meant the literal ground, the cold stone ground your body was half laying, half seating on or the pit of madness and chaos you and your whole kingdom got into.

You were not sure of how you could do either.

You were lost.

Suddenly, you were transported to a memory of when you were just a kid chasing after a foal that got lost into the woods near the royal stables. Like a brave little silly, you entered the tree line, but it didn’t take long for you to get lost. Every tree looked exactly like the other and soon you didn’t know what was left and right.

Much like then, you felt that lost. There was no right or left nor up and down. Just a rock bottom of misery staring back at you.

The person who had found you cornered into the trunk of a tree crying like a silly lost girl back then, wasn’t here anymore to guide you. Your mother was gone, and this was a reality you couldn’t escape.

“Why do we fall?” Maria’s voice brought your attention back to her. A kind smile matching her kind eyes towards you, her protégé.

“What?” You asked, again, dumbly. Not really understanding what she wanted from you or for an answer.

“Why do we fall?” She asked again as if it would make any sense. After realizing you were too shocked to properly answer, she clarified. “So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

Her voice resonated throughout the room, but in your ears you could all but hear your mother’s voice and wisdom. This was the exact same sentence she had spoken so many years ago, after tenderly picking you from the ground.

Your mind was a whirlwind; This time it was your time to pick yourself up, you’d have to climb this hole by yourself.

Your brother betrayed you, your mother was dead and now you were the supreme ruler of Taharr. The people – your people – would look after you for guidance, for protection, to be their light in the darkest times, such as the ones you are facing now.

Getting up from the literal ground, you were back on your feet and though your knees were a little bit wobble, you kept your stance. Only now seeing Lady Carol and Lord Samuel also arrived in the room, eyes down with respect towards the body of your mother.

“Sam, help me take her to her room. Carol, gather the morticians to prepare her.” Your voice shook a little with grief and pain. Maybe being strong and trying to be a queen wouldn’t be an easy feat. Not that you thought it would.

After another intake of air, you turned to Maria and this time your voice was firmer. “Maria, you and I are climbing the north tower so I can light up the Goblet of Fire.” Some sort of reassurance took over your body as you decided to proceed with the costumes and traditions of when a king or queen dies in Taharr.

The next in line would be the one to light the fire that could be seen miles and miles away from Triskelion. The next in line would be the one to deliver the somber news to their people.

“We have an announcement to make.” You finished grimily.

taglist:@californianwhiterabbit @cowxpoke

Final

[timeladix]

when i tell you that gos2 ending straight up made me write poetry to be able to process it... shit.... ok here it is...

(the povs alternate, you’ll understand in a minute which is whose)

-aftermath

how much does eternity last?

I asked

so as to know how much of this

dread and emptiness

I’ll have to endure

 how much time can I give

this hopeless state of being is eating me whole

my soul was not built this strong

I want to hold on

I’ll just warn you

I won’t last long

 ……………………………………………..

 terror

I’m in pain

trembling I did not ask for this

horrified that I won’t resist

 I can’t even form proper words

I’m spiling out anguish and salty tears

emotions

the container is broken

chocking on the aftermath

only loneliness lies in my chosen path

 and I want to believe

it’s a visceral need

but faith is just a naïve child’s game

I know I’m too far gone to be redeemed

 lost in my own self-destructive mind

when did anybody but you show me any kindness

when did I ever believe I could fix all this

my only hope is that when I’ll fall

nobody else will have to burn

 ……………………………………………..

 the world

the entire world was waiting

for us

but I can’t follow you on your chosen path

the stars my children

bear witness to my implosion

 ……………………………………………..

 I can do it on my own

when have I ever had a home

I’m a nomad amongst my own kind

living in disillusion

how easy it is to deny

 ……………………………………………..

 I feel nothing

I’m a ghost

devoid of sense and meaning

cold mechanic behavior

I’m building up my walls

 ……………………………………………..

 white pristine

once again I am divine

thriving in my palace of self-loathing

my raw throat screaming

polished walls as in mockery are gleaming

 ……………………………………………..

 and there again

the sun hikes high in the sky

false promises

all pretense

of warmth

and life.

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 12

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

The airship landed with a gentle thud upon a field of grassland and trees. Not long after, did Ardyn and Y/N venture out of the shuttle once the area was assessed to be safe. The afternoon sun was intense, causing Y/N to shield their eyes initially when they stepped out into the world.

Ardyn raised a brow while he made his observations. He didn’t say a word and gestured for Y/N to follow him close. It had been a few days since he made his dark pact with Y/N, and the last thing he wanted was to lose them on the eve of finding out where the Medzin base was located. From a recent kingsguard Ardyn had interrogated, he knew they were getting close. It was not a matter of if but when they would find Outpost 98.

Stepping over debris, Ardyn made note of how quiet Y/N had been as of late. The process of scourge bonding wasn’t a common occurrence among daemonic entities, but that didn’t fully account for the near lifelessness they seemed to invoke. He cleared his throat, garnering Y/N's attention.

“Did you see something?” Y/N asked.

“No,” Ardyn shook his head. “I can’t help but notice you seem…off.”

“Off?”

He nodded. “Most people in your position would be sticking their nose in where they don’t belong. I haven’t so much as heard a peep out of you since the day we met.”

“I'm sorry then?” Y/N shrugged, feeling dumbfounded. “I’m in the mentality of I’m going to die at the end of this, so what’s the point in speaking?”

Ardyn chuckled. “You’re a diamond in the rough.”

He didn’t catch onto the faint smile that graced Y/N’s mouth, nor the little blush that crept across their cheeks.

“Ardyn,”

“Hm?”

“If you want to talk about something, all you have to do is say so.” Y/N remarked.

His head tilted to the side as he gave them a scrutinizing stare. “What makes you assume I want to confide in you?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it seemed like you were trying to give me an in.”

“An in?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, a way into a conversation. Like you want to talk about something, but don’t know how to broach it.”

Ardyn mused on the thought for a time before responding. “Perhaps you may be right. Well, I have these faint memories of yours lurking about my head, and you can say that I’ve been rather curious about them.”

“My memories?”

“Correct,” Sensing their apprehension, Ardyn gestured between himself and Y/N for emphasis. “It’s a residual effect from scourge bonding I’m afraid. I take it your occupation was a rather dangerous one?”

The startled look on their face had Ardyn stifle, wanting to laugh at their expense.

“I'm a Scavenger, er, was,” Y/N began. “We’re like Hunters, except we seek out rare treasures for folks who don't have the strength nor can take the risk. It didn't pay all the bills, but it was fun.”

“Ah, a thrill seeker!" Ardyn mused. “I didn’t believe you were the type.”

“I like having freedom, and not having a boss telling me what to do.” Y/N corrected.

“I’d argue that’s not the case,” Ardyn laughed.

“Why’s that?”

“If you didn’t like having a boss, you most certainly wouldn’t have agreed to this little union of ours.” He smirked at Y/N when their eyes met his. The glare they shot toward him was endearing much like a dog performing a trick. “And there it is.”

“Where what is?”

“That tiny gleam of fire I saw in you when we first became acquainted. I was beginning to fear it was lost. It’s needed for the tribulations we are about to endure.”

“Speaking of enduring,” Y/N’s voice trailed off while they gathered their thoughts. Y/N had been keeping many questions bottled up for the sake of coping with their end fate. However, there was something that dug at the back of their head. They let out a gentle breath, bracing themself for anything that was to come from this.

“You said you are Adagium,”

“That I did.” Ardyn muttered bitterly. “What do you know of it?”

“I heard tall tales throughout my life. How at the base of Angelgard, there lurked a monster that had been locked away by the founder king of Lucis. If the monster was disturbed on a night of a storm under a full moon, Eos would drown in a void. I thought it was superstitious prattle. Stuff to scare the the crap out of kids to get them to sleep.”

Ardyn chortled darkly. “Unfortunately, not so much.”

“So that’s your end game?”

“More or less. I’m destined to battle the king of light, as the gods ordained. Such a showdown is to have a reckoning. In the end, both shall perish.” Ardyn felt a pull in his stomach, and was unsure about entertaining Y/N any further. “Luckily for you, after Outpost 98 is taken care of and you’ve said goodbye to your loved ones, you won’t have to bear witness to calamity.”

“So the gods do exist…” Y/N’s voice trailed off.

“Sadly, I can confirm. They are dreadful creatures, not worth bending a knee to their ilk.” Ardyn huffed. "Consider yourself blessed you don't fall within their eyes.”

“Aren’t they keeping tabs on you though?”

The fear in Y/N’s voice amused Ardyn to no end. He could tell they believed the gods would strike them down at any moment. With a smile, he put a hand on Y/N's shoulder, giving a soft squeeze before letting them go.

“There’s no need to fret,” Ardyn began. “The only one that so much as cares about prophecy is the so-called Dragon King, Bahamut. Even then, we are ants to the likes of such entities. So long as the end game comes, they don’t care how one arrives to the destination.”

“Are you scared at all?”

The question took Ardyn by surprise. “Why would I have reason to be scared?”

“Well,” Y/N paused. “You said in the end, both you and the king of light will perish. I assume you’ll die. Does that not frighten you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ardyn smiled knowingly. He raised a brow and decided to change the subject. “How old are you, anyhow?”

Y/N snorted. “How is this relevant?”

“Call it curiosity.” Ardyn chuckled. “And you’re going to die soon, might as well share some secrets before making yourself acquainted with the dirt.”

As morbid as the joke was, Ardyn’s nonchalance and sarcasm made Y/N quietly laugh.

“I’m Y/A,” Y/N replied. They gazed over Ardyn’s features. “You look like you’re in your forties, but I’m assuming you gotta be a couple thousand years old given the tales.”

“Forties?!” Ardyn exclaimed. He bellowed so hard with laughter that he could feel the muscles of his abdomen pulse painfully. So caught up in his own antics, Ardyn didn’t notice how red Y/N’s face was, nor the nervous look they wore until after he settled down.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N swallowed.

“Ah,” Ardyn sighed in relief. “I didn’t realize I haven’t aged gracefully until now. I happen to be thirty three, well 2,033 for the sake of accuracy. Even then, I'm probably off by a decade or more.”

“I didn’t mean to offend--”

“No, no, no,” Ardyn interrupted. “I dare not take offense! It’s refreshing to hear I look older. Aging is not an experience I will have.”

“So…you’re immortal?”

“Hmm hmm.” Ardyn nodded. “Until the king of light makes his debut of course.”

Y/N shook their head in disbelief. “How did you even wind up like this?”

“My kindness cost me everything,” Ardyn admitted with a low murmur. He himself was surprised at how honest his answer was.

“Did the woman that I saw have anything to do with it?”

Ardyn stopped walking and froze. He watched Y/N take a few steps ahead of him, before they too halted. Y/N turned around, and their eyes met his.

There was a tense energy surrounding them both that Ardyn could feel, and the scourge inside of his body pulsed with an uneasy tempo. Sadness and rage coincided against his eyes while he attempted to remain neutral. He could tell it was a meaningless effort on his part, for Y/N’s rigid body language told him that through the scourge, they had felt his misgivings--or at the very least--had an inkling something was off.

“I overstepped,” Y/N stated, swallowing nervously as they broke their silence. “I’m sorry.”

“I think it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” Ardyn flatly said, and proceeded. He brushed past Y/N, not giving them a second thought. His whole demeanor shifted, and he was angry at himself. Angry that he had allowed sentiment to interfere with his pursuits.

There was no rhyme or reason for it at all, the conversation Ardyn had with Y/N. It was empty small talk, but…he did enjoy it. That further aggravated Ardyn as he shot a glare toward the ground, inhaling deeply. He didn’t dare have second thoughts now about what he intended to do with Y/N at the MedZin lab, but like an intrusive parasite, the idea of sparing them came to mind. He was dead set on Y/N taking the fall for everything, and vowed he wouldn’t show weakness.

“Ardyn,”

“What?” He nearly yelled, turning his head as Y/N came into his vision. He saw them flinch before they asked a peculiar question.

“Is there another reason, for why you imprinted your scourge on me?”

His gaze was stoic while he looked upon Y/N. He coldly uttered a single word.

“No.”

Ardyn pulled himself out from the past. He tore his eyes off some forms and his gaze landed on Y/N. He observed them putting books back on the shelf from afar before taking out another to ponder at. The conversation he had with Y/N leading up to the infiltration of MedZin repeated through his mind. No doubt due to whatever guilt he had been harboring since the night in Verstael’s lab. Not wanting to linger any further, he reminded himself of what had been accomplished since then.

A faint smile fell across his lips while Ardyn reminisced the weeks that had gone by in a blink, and how Y/N quickly picked up on most subjects he had assigned to them. Catching up on Niflheim’s history was easy, same with landmarks and points of interest. Only a fool would be able to tell Y/N apart from a Lucian in that regard. The only things Ardyn found Y/N lacking was cultural knowledge and of course, formal etiquette.

While Y/N attempted to nail down the mannerisms expected of higher end imperials, Ardyn had come to realize this area wasn’t going to be their strong suit. If there was anything he worried about on their behalf, it was this piece. What eased his doubts was coming to find that Y/N had ambition and a curious mind like himself, when allowed to thrive. The more he focused on that tenderness, a flutter would rise in his chest. It was enough to appall him, and Ardyn ripped his eyes off of Y/N and went back to focusing on the mundane tasks he was assigned.

“Y/N,”

“Yeah?” They hollered back.

“Would you mind grabbing some of those files for me?” Ardyn gestured with his left hand while his right held firmly to the sheet of notes he was attempting to read. He pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked a few times. It was in a vain attempt to get his vision to focus, but the blur still faded in and out of his eyesight. Ardyn didn't realize that Y/N had been watching the little scene unfold. Much less did he notice the look of concern that crossed over their face while their eyes drifted over him.

This was the twelfth time or so that Y/N had noticed Ardyn struggle reading during the month. Their curiosity surrounding the issue had grown, but they didn't have the courage to say anything. It felt too intimate of a task.

“Sure thing,” Y/N replied softly. They traveled over to a smaller desk within the library, and picked up the files Ardyn wanted.

Y/N could never have foreseen themself being this civil with Ardyn, but much had changed since they first set foot in Niflheim. After Ardyn had made his announcement of them to the imperial council, Y/N had been thrust into learning about the ins and outs of the empire. There was no time for either party to feed off mutual resentments, not when it dawned on Y/N that they needed to learn a lot within a short window. For several hours each day, Y/N had been assigned books to read and videos to watch. In the afternoons, when Ardyn was free of his responsibilities, did he spend time teaching Y/N one on one lessons. Each lesson consisted of formalities, the art of conversation, and mimicking cultural habits most imperials demonstrated like it was second nature.

Y/N recalled initially dreading the meet ups with Ardyn. The first week was the worst, for his mood was foul after attempting to catch up on all the things he missed while in Lucis. Y/N admitted they didn’t necessarily help with his disposition either. Between feeling angered at Ardyn for delaying his promise, and frustrated at themself for not picking up imperial etiquette, Y/N knew they had given Ardyn a run for his gil. So much that there had been many shouting matches. The only consolation to their arguing was that it scared off the Imperial Help that had overstayed welcome.

Y/N clutched onto the files while their mind traveled to the day their dynamic with Ardyn began to shift.

It started with Y/N noticing themself having mood swings, but nothing within the realm of normal. These emotions crept upon them like a snake emerging from it’s hide, only to slither back into the darkness. It reminded Y/N of when the miasma from the Goblin latched onto their body, except this didn’t feel ominous but familiar. Soon after, Ardyn began to behave irregularly. Each time Y/N endured a scourge flare, he looked uncomfortable no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Ardyn then came home one night after meeting with Verstael, and Y/N remembered the enraged look he wore when he announced that he wouldn't be feeding off of them; unless it was an emergency. He slammed the doors to his chambers in Y/N's face, and didn't utter a single word for days.

The confusion of it all swam through Y/N’s mind while the scourge kept them trapped in bed days later. They were unable to muster the strength to move even with the medicine Verstael had prescribed. It felt as if their bones had been caught in a vice, tightened to the point of fracture while a burn throbbed through delicate tissue. It was a jarring series of sensations, considering the outer part of Y/N’s body felt cold and stiff. Y/N had a morbid thought that this was what it was like to experience rigor mortis, although being very much alive during the process.

Y/N gazed around their room, trying to fixate on an object or something to distract their thoughts. They found themself frustrated at their lack of resilience. It was humiliating, to feel so weak all the time, especially when they had led an active life prior to infection. Sleep problems and memory issues were other constants. Y/N was surprised at Ardyn's patience with them due to mishaps regarding recollection. They wondered when the compassion would run dry. It was one thing to have tolerance for someone with a broken leg, but another ordeal entirely when it came to long-term chronic pain.

Y/N’s body flinched upon hearing the door open. They remained still, not wanting to amplify the current flare and it’s hold. They picked up on Ardyn’s heavy steps making their way over. It was a surprise to see him, considering he made it clear he wouldn’t return to his residence until nightfall.

“You’re back early,” Y/N remarked.

“So I am,” Ardyn sighed. He calmly approached the bed, sitting beside Y/N’s body, minding to not bump into them. In his left hand, he had a small bowl which he placed near Y/N’s feet.

“I’m amazed the emperor let you off the hook so soon.” Y/N teased, trying to play off their current misery and his as well.

“Only because of my good behavior,” Ardyn frowned while carefully brushing away a few strands of hair out of Y/N’s face, catching onto the scourge veins that climbed up their neck and collarbone. “You feel cold. Do you need assistance covering up?”

“No,” Y/N quietly murmured. They shuddered at the thought of anything touching them right now. “I don’t think the weight will help me. If you need to feed, it’ll have to be another time. I can’t do this right now.”

“That wasn’t my intention to begin with,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. He gently touched Y/N’s skin where a large scourge vein was popping up and retreated his hand. “I can elaborate later. Right now, it’s not good for either of us to continue with feeds.”

Y/N was surprised at Ardyn’s response, finally getting somewhat of an answer for the change in their arrangement.

“So, if that’s not the case, then why are you here right now?” Y/N asked.

“You’re being quite interrogative I must say.” Ardyn smirked. “Can’t I enjoy being back within the confines of my own dwelling, after dealing with less-than-stellar men?”

“I know you. There’s always a catch. Even to your kindness.” Y/N stated bluntly.

“How observant of you.”

For a moment, Y/N thought he sounded hurt by the comment. It was enough to get them to feel a twinge of guilt.

“Really, why did you bail on your meeting?”

Y/N turned their head a little to look at Ardyn more carefully. There was contention in his eyes while he averted his gaze from them. He looked as if he was trying to solve a debate. Something was at odds himself.

“Unfortunately,” Ardyn let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, still looking elsewhere. “Your personal agonies have had quite an effect on me today. I could sense your pain all throughout the summons. It was an irritable distraction. So much so that I took care of the necessaries, and excused myself.”

“So that’s why you’ve been so tense and grouchy.” Y/N whispered. Ardyn’s silence after the fact confirmed the answer. If Y/N had the strength to laugh, they would’ve. However, they merely smiled for a brief moment, laying their head back on its side while their right arm dangled towards the edge of the bed. “And here I thought you were concerned about my well-being.”

“On the contrary, I was worried about you.” Ardyn admitted.

“You’re not just pulling my leg?”

“Truly,” Ardyn gave a nod. “I’ve lived with the scourge for over two thousand years. I’ve had time to acclimate to its misery and strength. Our peculiar circumstance trudged up sensations I thought I was long incapable of. I forgot what it was like to feel such pain at a constant.”

“You’re welcome for the gentle reminder,” Y/N said sarcastically, smirking some. They were surprised to see Ardyn grin. He seemed genuinely amused by the comment.

“Your irritable charming sense of humor remains intact as ever.” Ardyn’s smile dwindled after witnessing scourge veins move further up Y/N’s face, covering their flesh in an intricate pattern that looked like a lightning strike. That’s when he caught the dam breaking in Y/N, seeing their eyes well up with tears.

“How long did it take before the scourge broke you in?" Y/N sobbed.

Ardyn was contemplative for a few seconds. His features became stoic, not wanting to sugarcoat the bitter truth despite a part of himself wanting to deliver the blow gently.

“Do you want my truth?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded against the pillow. “I do.”

“Very well,” Ardyn resigned himself to Y/N’s answer and began reminiscing about his containment at Angelgard. For a moment, he felt angered but it quickly subsided.

“I told you on the airship before we arrived in Niflheim, that it took eight hundred years. By then, my bodily sensations began to fade. When the first millennium had arrived, the pain of the scourge wasn’t necessarily gone, but compartmentalized. You see, being locked away in darkness alone for so long, trivial matters like physical awareness begin to not hold so strongly in the mind. Pain and physical needs became an afterthought, until I was reawakened at least. Even so, I feel numb most days.”

“I’ll never be rid of it, the pain, will I?” Y/N softly replied, feeling the weight of Ardyn’s words sink.

“No, no you won’t,” Ardyn murmured. “At best you’ll live alongside it, until your soul gives in.”

Y/N let out a deep breath they had been holding back. It wasn’t the answer they were hoping for, but they were appreciative Ardyn was upfront. There would be no mercy in their short lifetime. The scourge would forever play out its tortuous hold until death would come either through Ardyn’s hand, their own, or something else.

Ardyn gently cupped their cheek. Y/N's throat bobbed, feeling him stroke away at some of the damp spots on their face.

“How do you live with this?” Y/N asked.

The sincerity of the question had Ardyn freeze. He had never been asked something so personal before. Not even Verstael or the researchers who had poked and prodded him all those years ago brushed against such a topic. Like earlier, there was no easy way to answer Y/N. Not unless they were immortal themself and had been through his trials and strife.

“Little things, simple pleasures,” Ardyn said softly. His thumb continued to wipe away at their cheek, minding not to put too much pressure on their skin. “I keep telling myself there will be peace when I finish what I've set out to do.”

Ardyn could see through Y/N’s sadness that a light of curiosity was beginning to dwell in their tired eyes. Before giving them a chance to ask further questions, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to the bowl he had brought in. Carefully Ardyn picked it up and showed the contents to Y/N.

“What is this stuff?” Y/N made a face and sniffled. There were pieces of gauze in a milky green paste. The texture was grainy and it smelled pungently bitter.

“An ancient medicine from my time. It’s made from the stems of a flower called Renaya,” Ardyn mused. “It helps with scourge inflammation.”

“I’m not eating that,” Y/N said bluntly. “Or putting it anywhere near my mouth.”

Ardyn snorted. “I assure you, I wouldn’t be so cruel. It’s a salve. You apply it to the skin and let it dry.”

Y/N smiled faintly then braced themself. They knew they would have to move around for Ardyn, and the thought was just as painful as the sinking feeling their entire body felt.

“Where does it hurt the most?” Ardyn asked.

“My sides and my back,” Y/N admitted. “I don’t know if I can budge. Not without breaking down like an idiot.”

“You’re only an idiot for saying such things. Even then at best, I’d call you a moron.” Ardyn teased. He smiled hearing Y/N chortle from his comment. His expression faltered after Y/N winced. He gestured with his free hand in a 'come here' motion to encourage them.

“I don’t think I can--”

“You will,” Ardyn assured. “Lean up for me, I’ll meet you in the middle.”

There was no point in arguing with him. Not when Ardyn sounded determined as he was. Y/N let out a sigh in defeat, giving a nod and slowly started to rise. The tingling in their hands and feet increased as did the muscle spasms. Y/N gasped aloud with heavy breath. There were no words that could be formed, only agonized moans.

Ardyn placed the bowl back down on the bed and quickly brought his arms around Y/N’s body. He pulled them close to his chest in a light embrace.

“Do I have permission to pull up your shirt--?” Ardyn was cut off by the rapid succession of nods Y/N gave. He wasted no time or effort in lifting Y/N’s arms up after carefully pushing them back. Ardyn tugged their shirt off, casting the article of clothing to the side. He averted his eyes to the left so as to respect Y/N’s modesty, and then turned their body around so that they faced away from him. His arms carefully guided Y/N back against the mattress.

“You’re doing well,” Ardyn commented, making sure Y/N was lying on their stomach before proceeding to grab the bowl. He glanced over Y/N’s bare skin. There was an endless highway of scourge marks that reminded him very much of his own; a lurid network of black lines that looked like spilled ink.

“Ardyn, it hurts--”

“I know,” Ardyn himself tensed as he suddenly felt a pinching sensation in his lower back. The feeling mimicked the movement of Y/N’s scourge veins that were contracting. Ardyn likened it to an itch that couldn’t be scratched on his end, but he knew very well, no, could feel how it tormented Y/N. He leaned forward, brushing back some of Y/N's hair so he could see their face.

“After I’m finished, I can see about getting it to settle down. Would you be opposed to that?”

“N-no. I wouldn't be.”

Ardyn hummed in response. He dipped his right hand into the salve and coated a generous amount of the mix onto his fingers. Carefully he selected a few test spots on Y/N’s back to see if they would have an allergic reaction. The care and thought behind his actions reminded Ardyn very much of his healer days. How this protocol remained second nature despite his rage tampering out most reason was beyond his understanding.

Y/N shuddered and let out a hiss from how freezing the salve felt. If they could compare it to anything, the feeling reminded Y/N of fresh mint being chopped. How the proteins in the plant released a cold sensation in one’s mouth upon eating it raw. They closed their eyes, sniffling while a soothing wave began to take root at where Ardyn had placed the solution. It wasn’t enough to make the scourge disappear, but the medicine numbed the nerves.

“You may feel some pressure from my fingers. I promise I don’t intend on harming you.” Ardyn spoke softly. After making note that he didn’t see any red bumps or other cause for concern, he started applying more. His hand carefully pressed into Y/N’s back with the gauze pieces and he rubbed circles into Y/N’s flesh, ensuring the oils from the salve would soak into their pores. The scourge jittered from the contact but stayed put while he carried out his ministrations.

“Have you…ever done this before?”

Y/N’s weak words caught Ardyn off guard as he momentarily paused then proceeded to pick up another gauze piece from the bowl.

“Many times,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. “I was, shall we say, a medical professional in the past. A healer. I learned all that I could about medicine when I was a boy.”

Y/N blinked while glancing toward a shelf of books. Much of Ardyn’s life had been a mystery to Y/N minus knowing he was the legendary Adagium. It was strange to hear him sound nostalgic.

“I can’t imagine how difficult learning was 2,000 years ago. Especially with the lack of technology. You must’ve struggled, trying to gain all you could.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Ardyn shrugged while his thumb carded over some of Y/N’s scourge veins along their upper back. “Being of noble blood, I had access to all the knowledge available at the time. Scrolls and books were a commodity I could easily trade for. If I had been born in a lower caste, it would’ve been another story. I admit I had privilege where others lacked.”

“You were a noble?” Y/N furrowed their brows.

“A future king, to be precise.” Ardyn smiled sadly. He made a face, wondering if he should proceed further and then decided to test the waters. “My brother and I were both destined to rule. You may know of him as Somnus, the founder king of Lucis. Today I’m known as Izunia, but long ago, I was known as Ardyn Lucis Caelum. Your king and his forebearers are my descendants.”

Y/N’s eyes widened from the revelation. “So that’s what you meant, when you said you were once a citizen of Lucis.”

Ardyn didn’t say another word, letting his divulgement sink into the depths of Y/N’s psyche.

Suddenly, the tidbits that Ardyn had sprinkled throughout various conversations began to merge, creating a larger puzzle that Y/N didn’t believe to be possible. Never did they thought Ardyn would be so forthcoming about a burden such as this. While Y/N didn’t have the whole story, they knew something terrible must’ve happened between Ardyn and Somnus. Their brain was rampaging with theories, contrasting with how miserable their body felt. To say Y/N was overwhelmed was an understatement.

“That’s incredible,” Y/N tiredly remarked. They sensed that this was a sore spot for Ardyn after he didn't reply, and decided to change the topic. They could always ask questions later. “A lot of men in Eos don’t have a passion for healing. Someone must’ve inspired you.”

“My mother actually,” Ardyn admitted. He decided to follow Y/N's direction, thankful he wouldn't be pulled into an elaborate discussion he wasn't in the mood for. His throat bobbed at the memory of his parent. He couldn't recall the last time he had spoke of her, and was astonished at how much he still remembered. "She came from a long line of healers. Some dated back to the first humans of Eos. Traditionally, medicine secrets were passed from mother to daughter. Since my brother and I were sons, the teachings should've died with her."

“How come?”

“Her side of the family had a superstition that such knowledge didn’t belong in the hands of men. Somnus didn’t find the subject interesting, but I did. My mother broke protocol to teach me. It infuriated many of her relatives and was quite the scandal. They went so far as to proclaim she had cursed all of Eos by handing down the secrets to my hands."

“Was there any truth to that?” Y/N mused, but shortly had an epiphany the jest was in poor taste.

“They were right I suppose. I ended up becoming the accursed Adagium. Perhaps my fate had been sealed even that far back.” Ardyn sighed.

“I’m sorry, that was a shitty thing for me to say.”

“I’m not offended,” Ardyn calmly stated then smirked. “I find it rather comedic in a morbid sort of way.”

Y/N smiled weakly. “What became of your mom?”

“She died young,” There was a bitterness in Ardyn’s tone as he proceeded. “A third child was to be had, but the infant perished within her and she alongside it. My father shortly passed from grief. That is what Somnus and I were told, anyhow. I believe he was assassinated. Tensions were high between my father and other noblemen at the time. I wouldn't call it a mere coincidence, but I played along for the sake of keeping the peace."

Y/N felt a heaviness in their heart. There was a weight to Ardyn's words that conveyed he had lost more than just his loved ones. He had lost his innocence.

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen,” Ardyn replied. “Somnus was thirteen. My father’s shield Gilgamesh helped in raising us. Being the eldest, I took care of my brother as if he had been of my own making.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility to put on a kid,” Y/N said while letting out a sigh of relief, feeling the medicinal effects of the salve rooting into them. “Is that why you’re Niflheim’s Chancellor, because you’re used to that kind of hardship?”

“Raising Somnus and learning to rule a country wasn't a burden. I was quite honored at the time.” Ardyn said genuinely. He frowned, yet again debating with himself if he should share more with Y/N regarding how he arrived to this position of power. Whether it was due to the scourge bond he shared with Y/N, or his own pitiful loneliness that he denied, Ardyn couldn’t stop his mouth from moving while he applied another strip of gauze to Y/N’s back.

“This current role--being Chancellor--was forced upon me,” Ardyn paused while his shoulders tensed. “I wanted for nothing.”

“Then what did you want?” Y/N asked.

“Pardon?”

“I mean…why did you comply with being Chancellor if it's not what you wanted? I may not know everything about you, but I know you're powerful. More than you let on. You could do anything you want and no one would stop you."

“Let’s just say the ends justify the means,” Ardyn admitted. That much he would allow himself to reveal for now. “I desire rest. An old thing like me doesn’t belong in your time.”

Y/N's heart began to sink on his behalf. The sorrow in his voice was genuine, and triggered a deeper reaction. Tongues of daemonic entities cried through Y/N's ears in hushed whispers. Y/N's hands gripped the mattress to stabilize themself. They feared if they closed their eyes, they'd disappear into the thick of it. The scourge was agonizing, but this unresolved desolation that combed through their blood took it to another level. It was as if they could sense how Ardyn felt just now; that he truly didn't feel that he belonged in this world or any hereafter.

Y/N's eyes welled up with another round of tears. Perhaps they had been wrong about him in many ways. He understood exactly where Y/N was coming from, wanting to fade away. This scared them a great deal.

“For what it’s worth,” Y/N forced themself to say through the experience. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Ardyn had stopped rubbing the salve into Y/N’s back. He had half a mind to accuse Y/N of being dishonest. Even the entities that dwelled within Ardyn’s psyche tried to encourage him to feed off Y/N for making him have a moment of weakness. The voices grew louder until he had to get up from the bed and set the bowl somewhere else.

Y/N couldn’t see where Ardyn had ventured off to in the room, but the steps of his boots gave them a rough idea. Y/N sensed his presence on the other side of the bed, then felt a weight shift on the mattress. The sound of his shoes being discarded along with his vest shuffled in Y/N’s ears. The mattress dipped again and Y/N felt Ardyn scoot close to them as if to cuddle. His chin dug into the top of their head while he lay on his side. The touch of his calloused fingertips caressed against Y/N's back, and they let out an involuntary groan while sensing Ardyn's scourge call out to theirs. Y/N could feel him draining the darkness out from every nook and cranny their body felt to the point of contact. They felt him shudder, and heard him muffle a discomforting grunt.

"You okay?"

“You’re quite the naïve fool,” He responded indignantly, ignoring Y/N’s question. His features softened and he sighed in defeat. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Does it matter?” Ardyn asked, genuinely curious.

“I guess not. Not all things need to have an answer.”

Y/N could feel the heat of Ardyn's mellow breath hit their scalp. Goosebumps raised along their flesh.

“I called you a burden before, a dead weight.” Ardyn whispered. “You have my apology.”

Y/N smiled a little, furrowing their brows while recalling their past fight. As the flare began to tamper down from a forest fire to little embers, Y/N felt their eyes succumbing to rest. Their breathing stabilized and it wasn’t long until they began to drift away, surrendering to sleep.

“I forgive you.”

“Y/N,”

“Hm?”

“The files, dear. I need them.”

Ardyn’s somewhat irate tone in the present caught Y/N off guard. They suddenly realized they had been staring off into space for a while. Letting out a huff, Y/N ventured over to the couch where he was sitting, and handed the files off to him.

“Your majesty,” Y/N quipped, giving a performative half bow.

“Imbecile,” Ardyn rolled his eyes. He countered with a playful scoff. “By the way, if you curtsey like that in front of the imperial councilmen, I’ll have you hanged.”

“Please, don’t threaten me with a good time.” Y/N laughed, watching Ardyn return to his task.

There’s no way in six hells we would’ve been doing this a month ago… Y/N said to themself. There was still much about Ardyn that Y/N didn’t know and vice versa, but it seemed he was becoming more or less comfortable around them.

Before Y/N forgot, they took out the bottle of suppressants from the pocket of their pants, and downed two pills; thankful they made enough saliva that didn’t warrant them needing a drink. While the scourge hurt, it wasn’t unbearable at this time.

Y/N studied Ardyn afterward, observing him once more squint while reading. Y/N had come to find that when Ardyn was passionate about an assignment, he was quite the chatterbox. It was strange seeing him so quiet and focused. The way Ardyn had spoken of his job in passing, Y/N assumed he wasn’t one to take it seriously. That despite essentially being the second in command to the emperor, he could care less. What he was demonstrating now would suggest otherwise.

“Would it be dangerous to ask what you’re reading?”

“In most circumstances, yes. Especially with you being a Lucian.” Ardyn sighed and put the papers down, deciding to give himself a break. “I suppose I could enlighten you. What exactly do you wish to know?”

Y/N hadn’t thought that far ahead and stumbled mentally. It didn’t help that Ardyn didn’t look amused as time went on.

“If its a matter of national security, you don’t have to speak up. You seemed tense and I wanted to know why. I was just--”

“Bored of the homework I have given you?”

“No,” Y/N was quick to interject. “Why would you assume that?”

“Because I'm feeling rather bored and miserable myself. “ Ardyn chuckled while he slouched more into his seat, relaxing his spine. He contemplated while staring at Y/N. “You see, I’m trying to decide where to allocate resources regarding Niflheim’s war with Lucis. I unfortunately took this upon myself the night I announced you to the council. This task has been quite a messy affair. I need to figure out who gets a hefty sum from the treasury by the end of the week. Unlike other matters I can put off, this one needs tending to.”

“That sounds like hell,” Y/N said bluntly, furrowing their brows while imagining themself in Ardyn’s shoes. “You don’t have anyone else helping you with this stuff?”

“Nope,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. “That's the business of being Chancellor, everyone looks to you for guidance and not the other way around. Comes with the territory I’m afraid.”

“Do you want a second opinion?”

Ardyn allowed himself a moment to process what was said and eyed Y/N with curiosity and amusement.

“Why would you help me with something so trivial? And last I heard, I believe what you’re offering would be considered high treason in Lucis. Conspiring with the enemy? That very well could get you killed!” Ardyn quipped, letting out a dark laugh.

Y/N made a face, knowing he was being sarcastic yet the mischievousness of his tone rubbed them the wrong way.

“We both know I’m not going home because I’ll be dead by your hand,” Y/N countered. “And maybe I’m tired of seeing you look miserable for hours on end while you hallucinate worst-case scenarios.”

They got me there…Ardyn thought to himself and leaned up from the couch. “I suppose I can’t argue with you there. Why don’t you read the top page, and tell me who should get first priority.”

Y/N watched Ardyn scoot the documents across the small table in front of the couch to them. They let out a breath, and carefully picked up the stack.

Y/N could feel Ardyn’s eyes on them the entire time they read through the document. There was something nerving about it, but Y/N didn’t comment on the matter, too focused on what they needed to read. There were paragraphs of text pertaining to soldiers, weaponry, and food storage. The way things were worded made Y/N realize how much different Niflheim was compared to Lucis in terms of grammar and format. Some parts might as well have been in a different language.

After giving the page a thorough look, Y/N peered up and met Ardyn’s eyes. He gestured with his right hand for them to speak up.

“Do you want my honesty?” Y/N asked.

“But of course!” Ardyn gave a small bow with his head and smiled.

“I’d give most of the funding to ground troops. The rest I’d split between the Research Department, and the local economy.”

Ardyn hummed and leaned forward to reach for the paper that Y/N had read. Once they handed it to him, he glanced through the text. "What's your reasoning?"

“Well,” Y/N bit the inside of their mouth before looking at a piece of paper in the stack that had more of Niflheim’s financial information and began pointing out some of the expenditures.

“From what this says, the commanders of the units don’t anticipate a shortage of magitek soldiers for another year. There’s no point in overfunding that. If I were a political figure, I wouldn’t want to piss off the everyman on the battlefield. It says the losses are beginning to stack up. The people should be given a boost in aid while they fight, otherwise, what’s to stop them from switching sides especially if they see Lucian soldiers being well taken care of? Technology is important, but if you're not taking care of the people behind it, good luck swaying anyone else to give a darn. The Research Department has enough funding as is, and Niflheim’s economy is strong, but there’s so much going to the war effort that citizens aren’t enjoying themselves. If the people at home aren’t happy, it’s not going to bode well trying to convince other countries that Niflheim is in the right.”

Ardyn quietly contemplated. He looked up from the paper after running through all the scenarios he could think of then smiled, almost as if he had been put in check during a game of chess.

“I’ll need to have the accountants work out the math, but I’ll consider this affair case closed.”

“So,” Y/N was dumbfounded. “You’re going through with my opinions?”

“Well, why not?” Ardyn shrugged. There was genuine sincerity in his eyes as he looked at Y/N fondly. “I was initially opposed, however, you brought up a valid point with public morale. I’ve received a handful of complaints from Commodore Araena regarding civilian unrest, and our Deputy Commander has made numerous disputes about his men not receiving enough aid. They both can't be making these situations up especially when a third party--you--have more or less arrived at the same conclusion."

“Wow,” Y/N murmured in surprise.

“You’re astonished?”

“I just can’t believe I helped with something huge like that. I’ve always been neutral with politics cause I want to avoid conflict, and I don’t want to sound like an idiot in front of others.”

“I assure you, you’re not an idiot. A bit naïve, but none too foolish,” Ardyn’s lips quirked into a half smile. “Your insight into one’s psyche has been most useful. It may sound monstrous, but I tend to not think of the basics that men need to survive and thrive. You gave me a gentle reminder .”

Gentle reminder…Y/N repeated the words back to themself. He said it with the same playful tone as Y/N did when Ardyn applied the medicine to their back that day. If they didn’t know better, he did it on purpose much like how he was staring at them right now with contentment. Y/N felt their pulse skip a beat as Ardyn rose from the couch, and took a step toward them.

“Chancellor Izunia! Chancellor Izunia!”

Tuti’s loud pitched squeak of a holler had Ardyn stop in his tracks and he grimaced. He sighed and rubbed his face, focusing his attention onto the bubbly Imperial Helper as she came barreling into the library. Words couldn’t express how much he wanted to assign the woman elsewhere, but he knew Y/N would be none too happy with that arrangement. He had the urge to shove the woman into a dumpster and be rid of her childlike antics.

“Yes, Tuti?” Ardyn asked point blank, pulling himself away from temptation.

“A pardon to you both!” Tuti glanced between Y/N and Ardyn before giving two bows. “The Deputy Commander, Chief Besithia, and an envoy from Accordo wish to have an audience with you before the gala tonight.”

“Seriously, on the eve of the empire’s founding day?” Ardyn irately raised a brow in suspicion. “Did they specify what for?”

“N-no sir,” Tuti shook her head. “Um, they weren’t specific b-but they said it was matters concerning security for tonight.”

Ardyn sighed. “Very well. A favor then while I’m gone?”

“A-absolutely!” Tuti exclaimed.

Ardyn looked at Y/N. He smiled at them as if he knew something they didn’t and savored watching the awe of suspicion fall across their face before addressing Tuti.

“Take Y/N to the Freyr district. There’s a shop called the Vanir. I want you to help them pick out an attire for the night on my gil. I’m sure your insight will be most useful.”

Y/N began to protest. “What if I pick something that’ll make me stand out too much, or what if I end up looking like a clown?”

“Then you’ll make a decent clown, now won’t you?” Ardyn laughed at their expense.

“What if I get sick in the middle of shopping, or I lose my way?”

“Hence, why Tuti is accommodating you.” Ardyn answered with a chuckle. “This is not an affair I wish to be a part of anyhow. I don’t particularly enjoy dictating what people choose for dress.”

“Ardyn, I don’t think I can--” Y/N gasped when Ardyn stepped forth and gently grabbed both of their hands into his, clasping them tightly. Y/N stared at where their palms met before meeting his amber eyes.

“You will.” Ardyn reassured. He leaned forward just a tad, and squeezed their fingers before he whispered. “You’re ready.”

Y/N swallowed back whatever words wanted to spill from their tongue.

“I’ll see you tonight.” The determination in Ardyn’s features along with the sly smile curbed the anxiety Y/N felt in the pit of their stomach, yet the bubbling in their chest didn’t cease. It didn’t stop not even when Ardyn withdrew his hold, and gave his final pleasantries before leaving.

Y/N stared at the entrance to the hallway, watching until Ardyn’s form had fully disappeared from view. Their pulse rose, and the scourge slithered against their veins in a hum that dare say felt pleasant.

“S-so,” Tuti’s giggled stutter pulled Y/N out of the odd sensation. “If I didn’t know better, those were heart eyes!”

“Oh shut up!” Y/N begrudgingly exclaimed. Tuti flinched, and covered her mouth to stifle the rest of her laugh.

“I only speak in jest!” Tuti said in her defense. “But, really, I think Chancellor Izunia has quite the confidence in you! It’s amazing. You’re going to be meeting so many important people within the empire!”

Y/N furrowed their brows, hearing the morose sigh that left Tuti after her proclamation. “Are you not attending?”

“Heavens to Betsy, no!” Tuti shook her head. Her peppy persona took a step down as she glanced about the library. Y/N had come to find this was a nervous tic of Tuti’s when she felt uncomfortable with a topic. The same could be said for her little jest.

“I’m an Imperial Help and my duties are to keep the palace orderly. So while I will be “around”, I won’t be seen on the main floor with the guests. D-do you think you could do me a favor?”

“Sure,” Y/N nodded. They were beside themself, not knowing how to comfort her.

“Please tell me everything you can about the gala when it’s all said and done!” Tuti smiled warmly. “I always love events like this, but, y’know, lower caste and all…if this isn’t too much trouble?”

“It wouldn’t be a problem at all,” Y/N smiled, not before furrowing their brows when they had an epiphany. “Honestly, having a task like that in the back of my head might save me from making a fool out of myself.”

“Oh you poor dear,” Tuti frowned, and offered a half smile as she gave Y/N’s right shoulder a gentle pat. “Are you feeling nervous?”

“Terrified,” Y/N scoffed and chuckled nervously. “I’m scared of fumbling, and if someone finds out I have--”

“The scourge…”

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed. “I don’t know how to save myself from that outcome.”

Tuti nodded. Her eyes once more scattered around the library, making mental notes of spots she needed to clean at a later time. She then warmly smiled at Y/N.

“After everything I’ve heard you been through, why with running away from Lucis after what those soldiers had done, braving a storm to find sanctuary while sick with the starscourge--and through that suffering--find the strength to be a bridge between Lucis and Niflheim, I think the higher imperials would be idiots to treat you less than. N-not that I want everybody to find out you’re sick--I hope my words aren’t coming across as such.”

Y/N felt a wave of guilt in their body at how sincere Tuti was on their behalf. A part of them wanted to tell Tuti the full truth, that their story was a huge lie that Ardyn concocted to hide both their sins. Y/N had recounted the tall tale so many times to the Imperial Help that came in and out of the residency, that they were beginning to believe it themself. They had to for the sake of this elaborate act.

That’s all it is… Y/N said to themself. It’s just a big play. Perform your role, and then the curtains will come down…it’ll be over soon.

“Y/N,”

“Hm?”

“A pardon for interrupting your thoughts,” Tuti laughed. “But I think we should get going! I’m dying to show you some of the other shops in the area! You’ve got to see the Infernium Theater too! C’mon!”

And with that, Tuti was on the run to get ready. She nearly left Y/N behind in the dust while the latter stood in the now empty library. Y/N glanced at the couch where Ardyn had been seated. The faint hum returned within the scourge, like the tingling sensation one would get if their foot fell asleep. It reminded Y/N of how their body reacted when Ardyn grabbed their hands, and they couldn’t help but wonder if he felt strange too.

[fatherramiro]

19, 21, 29? please and thank you!

thank you!!!

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

ooooh going to shake things up a bit and go from the next chapter of come home with me

Another tense silence descended over the room. Daniel sank down onto the bed in the room, exhaustion hanging heavy on his shoulders. Ángel wondered how many loops he’d endured, and if he knew that he’d die in the process of saving his wife and everyone else trapped. He knew very little about the man, even less than he knew about Dr. Franklin. But he was his only hope now. Daniel looked at Ángel. “Did she warn you about getting lost?” Ángel nodded. “I told her not to wake me up if it came down to it.” Understanding and sympathy flickered in Daniel’s eyes, along with a renewed determination. “We’ll wake him up. You have my word.”

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?

Yes in a way - I definitely have scrapped fic concepts/saved them for later or a different fic after spending hours on it. Mostly because I just know that it isn't something I can truly do justice to in that moment and I want to make sure that if its a concept I like that I can find a place for it that serves it better!

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

This is a scene from a now deleted draft of chapter four of though my soul may set; I've been working on finding a better way to continue the plot than this particular opening. Under a cut for length!

“You have to believe me.”

Daniel had long since grown tired of saying those words. He’d grown even more tired of no one listening.

At least with Eyk Larsen on his side, things had become marginally easier. It hadn’t been easy, at first, to convince the man of what was happening. Daniel still wasn’t happy that he’d had to use Maura as a way to convince him. Observing them through the loops as they grew closer and closer hurt, but at this point, there were few options. Once Ciaran realized Maura was awake — and certainly he had by now — he would do as much as he could do damage both the Prometheus and those still trapped in the simulation.

The only passengers who were left were the sleepers themselves. Daniel surveyed their faces in the wake of the others leaping from the ship to their deaths. All of them looked terrified and exhausted, and Daniel’s heart ached for them all. No matter how many times he endured the loops, his empathy never wavered.

Elliot stood at his side, and Daniel longed to comfort him. His son had returned to him the day before, re-appearing in the dining room and startling the passengers. Elliot had said nothing, just run into his father’s arms and held him tightly. He wouldn’t speak about what he’d seen, except to flinch away in fear from Sebastian. The other man had stared at him with unmasked hatred, and Daniel knew that any attempt at pretending they were on the same side was over. Sebastian had vanished in the wake of the passengers and crew jumping overboard, but Daniel knew he was most likely lying in wait to try and stop him once more.

The survivors were gathered on the ship’s bridge, and the absence of those they cared for had never been more pronounced. Krester, or rather Christopher, hovered with the family the simulation had assigned to him, and pointedly did not look at Ángel. Lucien was hunched in a corner, hands tucked into his pockets as if he could hide the tremors. Olek stood close to Yuk Je, as if they could speak the same language and knew who they were missing. All of them were watching Daniel with varying degrees of confusion and distrust.

It was Ángel who spoke up, as he had before. Without Ramiro here to balance him out, he was more prone to outbursts. “Believe what? That our world isn’t… isn’t real? You can’t honestly expect us to believe…”

“Then explain everything that’s been happening,” Eyk responded, voice harsh. 

Ángel scoffed, but said nothing in response. Daniel noticed how his face was pale and drawn despite his bluster. 

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Kanato Dark [03]

ー The scene starts in the kitchen

*Pssh*

Yui: ...Haah. This is taking forever. 

( I know that I need to quickly clean up after dinner and go back to my room. )

( I even promised that I’d be right there...I’m sure Kanato-kun is upset... )

???: ーー You are late.

Yui: Eh...?

ー She turns around to face Kanato

Yui: K-Kanato-kun...

Kanato: Why is it taking you so long? 

I told you to return to your room at once, did I not?

I cannot forgive you...for breaking our promise. 

Yui: You see...I was going to do that.

But in the process, the others asked me to do their dishes as well so...

Kanato: ...You could have simply said ‘no’, could you not?

Yui: I know, but...

Selection

→ Still... (S)

Yui: Still...I can’t turn down someone’s request...

Kanato: Haah...Why do you have to be too good for this world? 

I’m the only person you need to listen to.

You can simply ignore the other guys.

Yui: Right...I’m sorry...

→ I’m sorry (M)

Yui: ...I’m sorry. 

I know that you should always be the number one priority on my list.

Yet I agreed to the other guys’ request...

Kanato: ...Hmph. As long as you realize your mistake. 

Yui: ( ...Thank god. Seems like that calmed him down a bit... )

Kanato: ...Still, even if you have apologized, I cannot let this happening slide. 

That lying tongue of yours shall get what it deserves. 

ー He moves closer

*Thud* 

Yui: ...!

*Shatter*

Kanato: Nn...

...Nn...Nnh...

Yui: ( ...I can’t breathe...! )

Kanato: ...Nn.

Yui: Ah...!

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( Did he try to bite my tongue just now...!? )

Kanato: Please don’t run away. This is your punishment after all. 

Yui: B-But...!

( If I had endured it, he would have bitten my tongue, wouldn’t he...? )

Kanato: I don’t see the issue?

If you can no longer speak, you will no longer be able to upset me by telling lies either...

I believe that will help get rid of some of my anxieties as well. 

Yui: That’s...You’re being unreasonable. 

*Rustle* 

Kanato: Come on, Yui-san. Please don’t move?

Yui: ...No...!

Kanato: ...Why?

You are the one who apologized. In which case, you have no right to complain no matter what I do, correct?

Or are you trying to say that you choose those other guys over me? 

Yui: T-That wasn’t my intention...!

Kanato: Then you don’t mind, do you? If I’m your number one, you will obviously accept whatever I do.

...Well then, stick out your tongue please. You can do that, right? 

Yui: ...

Kanato: ...Come on, hurry. 

Yui: ...O-Okay...

*Rustle rustle* 

Kanato: Fufu, I do not like the way...you always end up giving in in the end. 

...Nn...

Yui: ...

( Eh...? He kissed me... )

Kanato: ...It tastes like blood, even though I’ve simply kissed you. 

Seems like I accidentally cut your lip earlier. It’s delicious...

I suppose I’ll have a little snack before I punish you. 

Nn...Nnh...Haah...

Yui: ( Kanato-kun...There really is something off about him... )

( I wonder where the kind Kanato-kun from before went...? )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー 

[dotthings]

3.11 “Reciprocity” — with some thoughts about Walter and Peter’s past sins haunting them, parents and chidren, Peter/Olivia, Astrid being amazing, Broyles being a great boss, and how the alt world doubles work emotionally.

Peter making Walter a pb&j sandwich and telling him “you can’t protect me from everything” is a really poignant moment about parents and adult children. The child will always be the parent’s child, but as children grow and parents grow older, the dynamics shift.

After all the experiments Walter did using people, his anger and indignation about Massive Dynamic wanting to run tests on Peter has some layers. It’s not just hypocrisy arising from his love of his son. He regrets the past. We’ve seen his regrets about his past practices. The prospect of Peter being the “lab rat” at Massive Dynamic is one more way Walter’s past sins as a scientist are coming to haunt him.

If you need an encryption expert to go through 300 pages of encrypted data, in a personally sensitive and discreet way—you go to Astrid Farnsworth. Broyles has immense respect for the agents he’s responsible for and their unique strengths. He knows what they’re best at, and their weaknesses, and how to deploy the team to the best advantage.

Except Walter. With Walter, Broyles endures with immense long-suffering stoicism and patience, he’s the wild card they have to use. Broyles respects Walter’s intellect, but he relies on Olivia and Astrid, and I suspect Broyles believes Peter would be a great asset if he decided to become more than a consultant—that Peter has a lot of potential as an agent, but the way Peter’s brain works anyway, he’s able to be great at any number of jobs he has no actual qualifications for yet carries it off competently.

Peter’s past sins are coming for him too. After being a con artist, and thinking his marks were stupid or gullible—he gets conned by Fauxlivia and he’s convinced Fauxlivia’s diaries will see him the way Peter saw his former marks, and he’s ashamed, of himself and his past, and of being seen that way himself. He tells Olivia “I don’t want you to see me that way.”

Olivia, who needed time for her own pain and hurt, realizing that Fauxlivia didn’t just rip out her heart, steal everything that’s hers, she preyed on Peter too. Tricked him, used him, played on his love for Olivia.

But when Olivia reads the journals, she finds out that’s not how Fauxlivia saw Peter. That Fauxlivia saw his goodness, that she kept forgetting why she was there, getting swept up in Peter. We saw Fauxlivia struggling. Newton called her out on her hesitancy about doing what has to be done. She didn’t see Peter as the gullible mark. She was genuinely falling for him.

That must hurt Olivia on a different level than Peter not realizing it wasn’t really her. Olivia however is also discovering how much like her Fauxlivia is. Maybe that’s helping it to click for her how much Fauxlivia was using Peter’s love for her, that it was what Astrid said, it was actually about Peter wanting to be with her. And so he welcomed the small changes and he thought it was finally him and Olivia being able to get closer. If he had been less in love with Olivia, Fauxlivia might not have been able to pull it off.

There’s been parallels. A shapeshifter replacing a husband and the wife, after decades of marriage, where they have grandkids, doesn’t catch on, because the shapeshifter so thoroughly imitated that person and mimicked their feelings and had feelings. Fauxlivia became Olivia, willfully, to such a degree it fooled Peter, while Olivia trapped on the other side, got brainwashed into believing she was Fauxlivia against her will.

They share DNA. They are identical physically. They aren’t the same in personality all the way through but Olivia says they process things in similar ways, use similar phrases. Olivia says that of course Fauxlivia fell for Peter, because she would have seen Peter the way she sees Peter, noticed what she notices. The alt world doubles are the same person, in some ways, placed into difference circumstances. Not twins. The same person, on different worlds.

It’s how Walter and Walternate are too. There are differences. But before Belly removed part of Walter’s brain, he was more like Walternate. And they have their shared love of Peter. Their selfishness mixed with altruism. Their intellect. And a bunch of other things in common. Walter is Walternate, Walternate is Walter, in different circumstances.

[pearblossommina]

ToG Read-A-Long, Kingdom of Ash, day 6

(One day late- yeah) (I’ll catch up, though)

Ch 43

Ok things are starting to go places with Dorian and Manon. Dorian, improving his shapeshifting skills

Manon, working towards meeting that peaceful fate she’s supposed to live up to.

You guys got this, I believe in you!

Don’t let those keys out of your sight, and Dorian, don’t let yourself get killed, cause it would break my damn heart.

Ch 44

Oof Aelin. Bad dreams. I’m not all right. You’re not all right. Fenrys isn’t all right. And yet the war still rages on, and people still die. My heart goes out to her for trying to keep moving. It’s a lot, and it’s probably going to be a while before she processes it.

I really, really hate this. I just gotta keep reading.

Ch 45

Oof Chaol and Yrene. You guys really want that baby… well… I guess that’s the best way to feel about an accidental pregnancy.

It makes me anxious as hell - but I’m sure nothing bad will happen, and this will be the first baby after the final wyrdkey is destroyed and the valg are banished to whatever realm they came from.

Ch 46

Aedion and Lysandra are not good, war is not good, things are bad for this whole legion

Ugh

I hate this. I liked it better when we were winning the war.

Ch 47

I took an entire day off reading this chapter; and I blame it for putting me behind the pace.

Something about Lysandra fighting as Aelin even though she could take a more efficient form, seeing her want to bear the likeness that will inspire the fighters the most, I was like: I think I need a break

So

Yeah!

Because this shit is hard to read! I’m too soft, I admit it. I don’t like all this war and anguish. It really weighs on you after a while. Even if it’s fictional, even if I have full faith that there’s gonna be a happy end.

Ch 48

FINALLY. The characters are FINALLY converging - about damn time you guys - we need to go kick some ass!

It’s cute how Aelin and Yrene are introducing each other to their husbands. Very wholesome. Girl, let’s have a belated bachelorette party. Uhhhhh - after the baby I guess since Yrene can’t exactly drink for the next 9 months -

Ch 49

Another cute wholesome we’re-all-together-now chapter!

Dorian killing that spider cured Falkan of his old age - I didn’t even think of that, but it’s kind of fascinating. When they were killing spiders I wonder how many people just got their lives and dreams back?

Ch 50

"Did you buy the swagger, the arrogance?" she demanded, voice breaking. "Did the others? Because I’ve been trying to. I've been trying like hell to convince myself that it's real, reminding myself I only need to pretend to be how I was just long enough."

Oh Aelin, Aelin, Aelin, don’t, don’t do this to yourself!

(I bought it)

(I bought every part of it)

(The reunion with Rowan, and the others)

(The way she seemed to come back to life when she was with him)

(The way she told him she was ready to be kissed)

(The way they made love, and mate-bonded anew)

(The way she offered a blood oath to Lorcan and acted all knowing about his relationship or lack-there-of with Elide)

(The way she’s been these last two chapters- )

(With tears in her eyes when she saw Chaol standing)

(And a glimmer of her old personality when she met with the khaganate, with Borte, with Falkan)

(I feel. REALLY SAD. Hearing her say all of it was a show, and that she’s been pretending, because she just wants to die - to forge the lock)

(I know it’s what Elena wants)

(But girl - you can’t!)

(Please keep trying Aelin)

(I know it’s hard)

(But life gets better!)

Honestly this book is mega depressing. I desperately want to feel something other than sadness, and sorrow, and pain. We’re out of Maeve’s clutches, and no longer being tortured, but the psychic damage is real, and it endures.

I kind of don’t even know if I’m going to feel better when Maeve gets destroyed. I know we gotta do it, and I’ll be glad when we do, but for the most part, I don’t feel good about it - I just feel desperate.

It’s kind of the difference when reading a fantasy novel vs a dystopian novel. Saving the world and being a hero. Vs disrupting the unjust system, fighting to bring the villain’s fall. This book is feeling more dystopian than ever. I’m having a hard time rooting for the hero’s because…. Everything sucks right now. And it’s hard to “root” for the downfall of a villain.

I am ready for the actual war to just be over and the characters to have a good day. A day where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. I feel like it’s well earned.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Trigger warning - self hate

Looking for - anything you want to say

When I’m eating food, I feel bad like I don’t deserve to eat the food. I feel guilty every time I get a snack for myself or a blanket to cover me to be comfy.

I think about myself in that moment and can’t help but think I’m worthless.

I never ask for anything, I’ve always been the quiet one who doesn’t ask for anything or to join the car ride somewhere unless I’m told to.

When I take up space anywhere I go I feel like I’m stealing from others who deserve it more than me.

I expect people to get mad, hate on me, treat me like shit, although most people I meet are super kind to me I just can’t handle their kindness it makes me cry.

I don’t feel like I “own” my own space or things, I feel like everything I own or space I take up is automatically someone’s else’s who is worth more than me.

I am defective.

I can’t stop feeling guilty over everything I do even when I’m not really doing much of anything.

Everyone around me growing up at school and at home the adults and the kids all told me I was worthless. It must be true. I hate being kind to myself when I’m told I should be. I don’t feel like I’m telling myself the truth when I’m doing that, I feel like I’m lying to myself.

I was born defective. I remember always being this way from a young age. I feel guilty no matter what I do throughout my days. Like I don’t deserve anything. Not even food and water.

I understand I was abused. I understand the role I played for my abusers growing up. But I still can’t help but believe I deserved to be abused bc they said I hurt them all first… I offended them all the time, I upset them everyday, everything I did upset them. I was difficult and took space others needed and deserved and not me. I always felt so bad for them I always always upset them all at home and at school. I was and still am someone who has something intrinsically wrong with them.

Doing nice things for myself feels wrong…

I am defective. I am worthless. My abusers were right, they were right, my abusers are the only ones who never lied to me.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through and the impact it's had on your self-perception and self-worth. It sounds like your experiences enduring abuse has deeply affected you to the point that you've been made to believe that you were "defective" from birth.

You deserve to have basic necessities like food and water. You deserve to take up space. You deserve to feel comfortable, loved, and supported, as much as your abusers have tried to convince you otherwise. Being made to believe that you don't deserve to be treated with respect is something abusers intentionally instill because that kind of mindset can be easier to take advantage of (like feeling like you deserve the abuse and feel less motivated to escape, something an abuser wants for you). Abusers want you to believe you don't deserve anything better so that they can abuse you for as long as possible. That's why they're so repelled by people with self-compassion and confidence.

There is only much that I can say and do to help here. If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could help you process your experiences and how they have shaped the way you treat yourself. While it can be incredibly difficult to make that first step in seeking help when you simultaneously believe you don't deserve it, you've already begun by reaching out to us, and the transformative capabilities of therapy could be life-changing for you.

If anyone would like to make any comments or suggestions, please feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help and please know that we're here if you need anything.

-Bun

[finch1pinch]

gotta say I really do enjoy the beginning of Across the Spider-Verse and Gwen’s monologue while she’s pounding on the drums (beware spoilers ahead obviously!)

on the first viewing(yes I saw it in theaters twice) its mostly just a recap of the first movie to get everyone who hasnt watched it over 15 times and knows the plot and a lot of the lines by heart. But as I enjoyed it for the second time in theaters and now when im listening to the soundtrack, Gwen’s monologue is her coping with the aftermath of ITSV. She’s gone through a lot of shit, her mother died, she accidentally caused her best and only friend’s death, shes having tension with her dad due to her double life, and she finally got the courage to make her first friend in a long while, and now she can’t interact with that friend at all. She just got a taste of being able to depend on other people to have her back and BOOM! now shes back to total isolation. and she doesn’t know how to cope. No spider-person ever really does. all of them are bouncing from one responsibility to another than none of them ever have any time to truly process the shit they go through on a daily basis.

That is why Gwen keeps repeating that “He’s[Miles] not the only one.” as she bashes her drums. She’s using him as a vessel to process her feelings. She knows she isn’t the only one, but its a little hard to believe when there is not physical proof of it. So Gwen monologues about how Miles and her are similar.

And while she is dealing with her sudden isolation, she joins a band.

“I didn’t join a band so I could talk about my feelings, I joined so I could hit my feelings with sticks.” (apologies if I misquoted)

She wanted to have friends again. But she can’t connect with any of her peers because they don’t get it. None of them can hope to understand her position as a spider-person who has people around her dropping dead left and right.

And Gwen also doesn’t really give them a chance to be her friend.

because she wasn’t really searching for new friends, its presumably been a month or two since she went through the collider, she’s desperate for connection with her peers. The problem is that none of the kids her age are her peers. Miles is her peer. Hobie and Pavitr end up being her peers and her friends. the bajillion Peters her age are her peers.

Her joining the spider society is both bad and good for her because of this. She’s finally got peers that she can connect with, despite the lack of Miles’ presence, but she also has really shitty role models now. said shitty role models are doing exactly the opposite thing that you’re meant to do with parenting teenagers. They are clipping her wings rather than Miles and his dad “You gotta let him spread his wings man.” Jess and Miguel (and sorta Peter?) won’t let her visit Miles based on rules that are theoretical AT BEST, and she’s effectively trapped in the spider society due to her dependence on the watch so that she can avoid her dad. (side note: WHY DID NOBODY HELP HER PROCESS AND FIX HER DAD SITUATION???) does anybody else think this is a classic setup for an abusive situation? Though she does have Hobie and Pavitr, she is still being isolated from Miles because he’s a “bad influence.”(read: anomaly) I will ask you all again, does anybody else think this is a classic setup for an abusive/culty situation??

I’m sorry but the idea of canon events feel like grade-A bullshit meant to corral the spider people into a single template. They are straight up scaremongering that forces the spider people to endure trauma that they wouldn’t have to go through if they all just flipped Miguel off and helped each other! (can you tell I despise Miguel, i’m aroace i’m immune to the hotness) Miguel 👏 is 👏 making 👏 a 👏 fucking 👏 cult! 👏

All in all, the isolation that Gwen faces after ITSV made her very susceptible to the kinda culty thing that the spider society led by Miguel has got going on rn. All spider people deal with heavy isolation and loneliness, so the thought that maybe all that sacrifice and isolation did actually need to or was meant to happen, is comforting to them. they went through all that pain because they had to, rather than all the deaths could’ve been avoided. The other spider people have never been in Miles’ shoes, in terms of having the ability to actually change so-called fate. So they don’t get it. But now, with Gwen’s father quitting the police force, Gwen is once again Miles’ peer. They both know that they can avoid their dad’s deaths. And you bet they’re going to try.