#which stings quite some more when your reason to keep living is leaving your memory on other people

[scribz-ag24]

They both are mentally ill

[ladystoneboobs]

@sunflowersansa, #catelyn was raised to be hosters successor for almost a decade wasnt she?

the annoying thing is we don't have an approximate age for edmure, nor any age for cat when minisa died (in childbirth with a last, stillborn son, not edmure). i've seen fanart depicting him as anywhere from a toddler to a younger teen/tween when catelyn and lysa were teenagers. but i feel pretty confident in my estimation of ~7/8yrs age difference between eldest sister and baby brother, and not just bc of symmetry with the next generation. my reasoning is thus:

we all assume catelyn had some grooming as an heiress, rather than it just being a nominal status in early childhood. how much training can one really give a 3 or 4yo, y'know? we know rickon never had any manly lord lessons from ned since he was still so young when they parted. if she was closer to 7 or 8 when edmure came along, that leaves more realistic time for education, and a sizable number of years with only daughters for hoster to try to accustom himself to lack of a son and make do accordingly. even only 1 or 2 years of rulership lessons would still matter when minisa's death left hoster more dependent on her as not just hostess but later a trusted confidant of a sort until she got married.

ned thinks of edmure as "the boy" in his pov when hearing of the mountain's first attacks in the riverlands. we know ned's not great with keeping up with ageing from his earlier comments about tommen, and he surely hasn't seen edmure in many years, but this tells me that when they did meet at riverrun, edmure was not that close in age to himself, catelyn, and lysa. (i think it's less likely to see someone as frozen in childhood if they're anywhere near your age cohort.) ned could still be wrong about edmure's age thinking he couldn't possibly be at least 25 and any green knight younger than that was still a boy or youth, but that miscalculation makes more sense to me if he was around ~26 rather than a fellow thirtysomething or a guy pushing thirty.

we also know that edmure acted as brandon's squire in his duel with littlefinger, which i read as more someone playacting at some squirely practice when not yet consideed old enough to be anyone's assigned squire, with the informal nature of the duel which meant lightly-armored littlefinger having no squire of his own, and brandon having an actual squire who likely could have been present. so that lines up with a ~10yo edmure to 15yo littlefinger, 16yo lysa, 18yo catelyn, and 20yo brandon. (this is admittedly the most subjective point and i wouldn't consider it strong evidence if not consistent with the rest.)

catelyn doubted her memories of her mother, including her appearence, which in this world strangely devoid of portraits, still makes me think she was quite young when they lost her. so, yeah, not a large gap between edmure's birth and minisa's death in her next childbirth. if catelyn was 8/9 or even 10 when her mother died and she became de facto lady of riverrun, that could line up with the lannister twins losing their mother at 7 and not having strong memories of joanna.

idt catelyn really did think of riverrun as her birthright when her brief time as conscious heiress was a small fraction of her life, with at least 6yrs knowing she'd move away to be lady (consort) of winterfell instead and the rest of her life living out that responsibility as northern wife and mother. but it must still sting to be used to such a position of importance in her earlier time in riverrun and have no real authority when she returned to live there again as an adult, especially when edmure still seemed to act (to her) like the baby of the family not entirely matured into the authority he held all for himself. there's a part in her time in renly's camp when she thought robb was years younger but still knew what he was doing more than the southern king and his knights of summer playing at war. i'd imagine a simaliar feeling whenever edmure annoyed her. that's another difference between robb and edmure, that robb was a dutiful eldest sibling like his mother, formerly catelyn's baby but never anyone's baby brother. while edmure, even if he was (my by headcanon) a few years older than renly and unlike renly was meant to be a male heir from birth, was still a youngest child of 3 like renly.

[howdytherepardner]

unintended hieroglyphics

i've been thinking about scars recently.

a term which gets pulled to mean things beyond the literal, but in no doubt partially due to the nature of the physical entity. until a week or so before memorial day in second grade, my most notable one was on my left forehead, a small but notable gash i got after falling on a vacuum cleaner in the later toddlin' years. not much metaphor there other than "yeah that lil guy was clumsy," which i can remind myself of with the subtle cavern that resides on the forehead. but certainly, the pair of marks on the right arm that have stayed with me since the age of 8.

i love the full story to this one, which you'll have to pry out of me another day (or from one in the distant past? maybe), but in brief, my sister and i were playing at a family friend's neighbor's house a little more than a block away when their neighbors asked if we wanted to pet their dog. golden retriever named lucky. and we do, so we walk over, and my small little self must've spooked him or reached out too fast, because that guy then chomped directly into my arm. i recall pulling just a bit before he let go, though i don't remember the pain, but just blood immediately coating the arm. chaos ensues, i eventually get to the ER, get stitched up, and drink preventative [rabies-type] meds (just in case, the dog didn't show any real symptoms beyond human biting) for the next 30 days, which i now associate vaguely as tasting like Yakult.

the two main wounds were the ones that got stitched, and are the ones that have since lasted with marks. the big boy is halfway between the wrist and elbow, on the inside. not gonna send pictures for your sake, but kinda like if the crack in time and space from matt smith dr. who, but open a wider, boogie woogie type of smile. the second is just above the wrist below my thumb - it is a straight line, but for some reason, the entry points for the stitches have stayed as well, leaving me with just a casual : | : hanging out for the past 15 odd years.

there are other scars over the body, of course. next to 😐 there's a standard line that i got from the oven grate when pulling out food a couple years ago. i did/do that a lot, but that was the one time i wasn't fast enough to the sink because i was determined to get it out on time. it didn't hurt that much then either, and i'm sure my casual demeanor about it probably freaked a few folks out, but it did have a numb sting for a couple weeks after.

i wrote briefly about the idea of bookmarks last year, and i think in both the literal and literary use of scars in a similar vein. but their indelibility carries a distinct status; the reminder doesn't come whenever you happen upon it, the memory is ever present. a truth without room for denial. trauma, and all that it compounds

~

i really haven't landed on how i feel about Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Stone Ocean. indeed, i am gliding in space, orbiting, perhaps waiting for this moment to propel down. and i feel there are ways to talk about it without talking about it itself. i think the feeling is really quite epitomized there has been true of all the anime series that i've been keeping up with.

the sixth season of My Hero Academia has progressed so thoroughly into a foreshadowed dark era of its' super(natural)hero world. out of peace, something just barely scraped from a long troubled conflict, right back into that same conflict, inherited by young faces.

Chainsaw Man is biting, cynical. completely accounting for all that composes a modern society, its apathy, and throwing people in the face of unrelenting violence, and life is no more certain than death.

and the third season of Mob Psycho 100 has been strange to witness. i was so perfectly content with beautiful ending to the narrative branched by the first two season, and really wasn’t expecting the series to continue with where it was left. but, of course, seasons end, but the world keeps on spinning. and someone has to live with the consequences, even if they can’t.

maybe there’s room for a different, expanded discussion on each of those series’ merits (which they all have, to varying extents) and questionable choices (which they all have, to varying extents), and making a more thorough comparison.

but the obvious sentiment from what i chose to state there is “damn, this shit is dour.” i don’t quite know what the language is for it. certainly there are plenty of dark shows that i’d seen when i first started watching offerings of this macro-genre, and i think they’ve all carried a certain air of cynicism or “darkness” to them (Death Note, Bebop, Fist of the North Star; the list could go on too long and too short). but my brain has been suggesting that recent work carries a new kind of energy to it.

because it’s not that things now are all that much darker, in terms of content or story or scales or stakes or traumatic backstories. but i think in the quest for novelty, there feels almost a desire to seek new ways of making horror psychological. where implications often might have once been left to discussions by viewers in separate forums, they now seem more common in full display - the rules of the worlds that make them fantastical necessitate catastrophe, a suffering innate not just to fantastical realms, but implemented and expressed so heavily in the living that we humans have now. where escapism might have been more feasible in these realms, confrontation with reality is more present.

which is not to say that’s a bad thing, really, to try and impart life lessons on living through the horror of the everyday. but it just means the brain gets a little less reprieve, especially if it hasn’t really taken time off on its own.

but what did strike me about Stone Ocean, at its tippy tippy last, after enduring truly what felt the most comprehensible but unimaginable horror, hope in some form returns from it all. to weep and to cry at the same time, perhaps; to find that catharsis.

i think my feelings have yet to land, because i have yet to be sure whether such a thing is possible.

~

do you notice the covid stickers like i do?

those simple characters, “corporate design”s of people

masked and distant and compassionate.

in subways and Subways and windows and yard signs.

warnings for public health, figments of the real world.

set up in an era of naive hope, it seems.

and i think maybe a slightly different kind of hope than nostalgia for the earliest phases of the pandemic might suggest; not quite the regularly scheduled clapping for health care heroes, donations and ppe, hell even the excessive disinfecting that common belief.

but more like the initial opening “hope,” the world set up for us vessels of infection to return once more. it was a limited, flawed hope - one marred by immediate case spikes at each local attempt. a hope not even a year’s sure of what the virus could do to anyone, and what it meant to feel back together. where essential and slightly less than essential labor was constantly exposed, and many more regained their sense of freedom to do so willingly, even if secretly or with constant testimony of Masking and Distance.

it’s just funny to me i think. not as a joke, but more in how fluid opinion and mentality had to be then. why does it feel so hard to recognize what is so familiar?

why now are those simple characters, masked and distant.

they are covered in a million different treads such that

only the outline, the silhouette and memory of an era remain.

... but uh,

it remains dude!!! Everywhere you see signs from 2020 and 2021 with different and contradicting policy!! The store window says strip and kiss if you please but the floor says stay the fuck back you factories!! I don’t get it. I mean, yes, I do understand that with the passage of time recommendations from public and popular authorities has shifted, determined by priorities relegated in public health considerations and the existence of vaccines and private industries and whatever the fuck they use to justify anything these days. I hear the CDC is “strongly encouraging” masks again these days, whatever that means having lost any authority of grip by calling it over. I get all of that. What I don’t get is

why haven’t they just taken up the stickers?

they remain unpeeled; the tales within are still on the clock.

~

the less fun part of the story is that in a classic folly, i only realized much later that they probably didn’t actually bring the dog to a farm somewhere. [Despite knowing about that euphemism, mind you; an abundance of farms in the immediate area such that this was an idea without question to me]. and i still don’t know whether or not any actual legal recourse was taken, from the emotional conversation i walked into.

and the scar brings me back to all of that too, even as it’s shifted in the decade and a half from a bloody mess to the kind of purple that would pulse, and from that to a faded, patch of white within a darker tan that still stands out to me, but probably not many others in daily life. to the tearing of flesh, to the novelty of the ER, to playing with friends that day, to being amused by that face throughout my youth, to the needle pushing through skin, to getting choked up when the cop asked me what happened despite knowing clearly how to describe it, to the wet washcloth that i held against my arm to stop the blood and the passenger seat of the F-250 that took me the block home.

but i think the scar is mostly visible. i really had no problems with dogs or any sense of lingering trauma from the event. the invisible scars of the world as of late have left a lot more. the words to even describe where i’m at are elusive. a panacea to such a wounds and ills is slipperier still, but i suspect it’ll be just as intangible beyond my language now.

[legguk]

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

kisses 21 jm!

For the prompt “we’ll face this together” kiss. TY SAHAR!!! OKAY I accidentally had one (1) jonbinary idea and then it ended up being SO FUCKING LONG (like 2.5k long) so uh. yeah. Warnings for descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of kidnapping and self loathing, and Jon getting pretty close to a panic attack. Also disclaimer, although I am nonbinary, I’m not transfem, so if there’s any critiques surrounding that, don’t hesitate to let me know. Stay safe y’all!

Jon’s face itches as he faces the mirror like an old foe. It’s long held an image that hurts him to see; aged by unfathomable horrors and dotted with marks like a canvas before a child’s paint tipped fingers, and these days he can’t even be sure that his reflection looks away from him when he turns his head. But, the devil it holds at the moment is the simple reflection of his short beard, and his face itches at the reminder of it.

It isn’t a physical itch. It lurks under the skin, poking and prodding at his senses, rubbing him the wrong way as he lays his cheek on his pillow, leaving a distracting echo when his chin brushes against Martin’s during a kiss, scraping at the inside of his skin as he stares at himself and takes in the sight of it covering his chin.

He scrubs his fingers over his eyelids. He isn’t ignorant, he realizes the discomfort he feels is most likely somewhat gender-related, but it’s… his relationship with his gender is complicated. In a lot of ways, it’s been such a mundane concern recently that he’s somewhat lost track of where he stands with it, but he remembers how it felt to first wear a skirt into the archives, all those long years ago. How gentle Sasha had been with him back then, even if the memory pinches the back of his head and grins with too many teeth and a short haircut that he knows now was wrong. But the Stranger cannot take that act of kindness away from her, even if it took away the face he remembers sharing it with.

He had felt like he was becoming something new, then, staring at a new path, freshly paved in his life, open to the possibilities of self discovery and certainty. Then his life had been riddled with worms and his friends had been carved out, one by screaming one, and he was on the run and set alight and kidnapped and disabled and nearly killed and kidnapped again and nearly killed and—

Jon remembers, vaguely, a flash of what had happened in the month he was… gone. He doesn’t remember most of what happened in that place. Probably for the better, he tells himself, but he does recall one thing. One very simple thing, really; that he hadn’t been able to shave, and he remembers the itch being all he could focus on for days at a time.

One of the first things he had done after stumbling through Michael-now-Helen’s door-not-deathtrap was drag himself to a sink and shave his face raw, burned hand be damned. His skin had suffered afterwards, nicked and irritated beneath its smoothness, and he had taken some strange, morbid comfort in the blemish he was able to inflict, after so many days of hearing hollow voices sing of its beauty.

This is a dangerous line of thought, he realizes, hands pressed against the bathroom sink, his heartbeat starting to pound in his ears. He desperately does not want to think about that, not here, and preferably not ever again, if he can help it.

He tries to bring himself back to the here and now, grounding himself in the feeling of porcelain under his palms, but the victory over his mind is a hollow one, unfortunately, as it brings him right back to the itching under his skin.

He’s not sure if this itch is exasperated by his own self consciousness, or by the lingering sting of the Lonely that threatened to separate him from himself, but it builds until its all he can feel in his skin, on his face, and he finds himself lunging across the counter, knocking things over in an attempt to hunt down Martin’s razor.

Jon had lost his own somewhere in the chaos of living in the archives, but he’s sure he saw Martin trim his own short beard when they first arrived at the safehouse, so it must be here, he thinks, ripping open drawers, it must— aha!

His fist closes around the razor, hidden under the sink next to a small bottle of shaving cream and Martin’s testosterone shots, and he barely gives a thought to what he’s doing before raising it to his dry cheek, just needing this thing off, and—

“Jon? You know that’s not how to do that, right?”

Jon whips around like lightning, his back to the sink and the razor clenched in his fist against his chest like a talisman, breathing heavily.

Martin had been smiling slightly as he entered the bathroom, but the expression quickly falls from his face as he takes in the panicked look on Jon’s face, and the erratic motion of his free hand, clenched into a fist at his side and twitching in an attempt to calm himself. Martin steps forward quickly, outstretching a hand.

“Jon, love? Are you alright?”

Jon fixes his eyes on Martin; kind, beautiful Martin who still goes a bit grey at the fingertips and the eyes when anxiety seizes him, Martin who has always been there, always been there, ever since the beginning. Jon anchors himself as he looks at that familiar, beloved face, and tries to take a breath.

“I-I don’t know,” He manages, because this all feels very silly now. He’s a grown person standing in the center of a bathroom, clutching his boyfriend’s shaving razor like it’s a weapon, for God’s sake, all because of what? Some facial hair? Good Lord, he’s being ridiculous. “Probably, I just… um.” He trails off, gut sinking as emotions spiral through him, too fast to pin down and name.

“Okay,” Martin says gently, shuffling a step closer. “Why do you have that?” He gestures to the razor in Jon’s hand, and Jon twitches, holding it closer.

“I need to borrow it,” He explains, stumbling. “I can’t- I need-“ He makes a frustrated noise and tries to get his thoughts to align. He inhales deeply and tries again. “I need to …shave. This-“ he gestures jerkily towards his face. “This is too much.”

Martin nods carefully, eyes glued to Jon’s face. “Too much?” His question is as gentle as his eyes, and Jon has to glance away for a moment, overwhelmed by being seen.

“It’s… complicated,” He begins, the fist pressed to his chest beginning to lighten up. “It… it just itches, all the time. Like- like a thousand ants under my skin, w-which is ridiculous because it doesn’t actually hurt or itch or- or anything, it just…” he glances back to Martin’s eyes, furtive and desperate for him to understand. “I need it to stop.”

“Oh,” Martin softens even more before Jon’s eyes, his face melting with understanding and sadness. “Oh, Jon. I didn’t realize you were having dysphoria.”

At the word dysphoria Jon glances sharply up, uncertainty fraught on his face, and Martin backtracks quickly.

“Or- s-sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. Is it-”

“N-no, Martin, it-it’s fine.” Jon waves Martin’s nerves aside and finds that he finally has a decent enough hold on his own to lower the hand that had been pressed against his chest. He turns around in the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the bathtub, sighing heavily. “It might be dysphoria, I don’t…” He hesitates, chuckling slightly. “I’m not quite sure I know it well enough to place it. Gender hasn’t exactly been… a priority these days.”

Martin nods and follows him deeper into the bathroom, setting down the lid of the toilet so he can sit on it and listen to Jon blunder through his feelings.

“It might be? I mean… I know I’m not a man, per say, but it… I mean, it could also be so many other things at this point. It’s just- I know it’s stupid to overthink, but—“

“Hey, hey,” Martin cuts him off, extending a hand to brush against the side of his knee. “It isn’t stupid, Jon. You don’t have to have a label or a reason in order to be uncomfortable. It’s- you’re allowed to call it just that; uncomfortable.”

Jon nods, looking down at the hands clasped in his lap.

“I know. It just hit me so suddenly, I-” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead, careful to avoid brushing any of the hairs on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Martin murmurs, and his hand rests more solidly on Jon’s knee. “Is this alright?”

Jon nods mutely, and lets himself expel some more of the tension in his shoulders as he focuses on the motion of Martin’s thumb sweeping softly over his knee.

“It reminds me of the circus,” Jon breathes after a moment of silence, and Martin’s hand stills against him, attentive and horrified. “When- when they…” He inhales sharply, willing his voice not to break. “Well, I couldn’t very well shave it,” He clenches his hands into fists again, still holding the razor tightly in his right. “Got it off as quickly as possible once I could.”

Martin exhales. “I remember that. I thought you just… I dunno, just really nicked yourself. I didn’t think about… yeah.”

“Yes,” Jon agrees, keeping his gaze on the hand on his knee. “I-I mean, I definitely did, nick myself that is. I wasn’t really thinking about doing it properly, I suppose.”

“Like just now?” Martin asks, kindly, gently, not judging. Jon feels his chest pinch anyways.

“Yes.” He admits quietly. Martin leans down to press a careful kiss to Jon’s knee.

“Okay, well, this time we’ll do it properly,” Martin raises himself from the toilet seat, reaching down into the cupboards to pull forth the shaving cream and a towel, and holds them out towards Jon.

Jon blinks, looks at the objects and then up at Martin, unsure of what’s being offered. “Sorry?”

“You still want the beard off, right? Let’s just make sure you don’t upset your skin,” He cracks a humorous smile. “Then it’ll actually start itching.”

Jon takes the can from his hand, but still frowns. “Us?”

“I- yeah,” Martin shifts his weight, fidgeting with the towel. “I can help, if that’s alright with you. You don’t… always seem to handle mirrors the best? And I’ve helped shave another person before so… yeah. If you want.”

Jon’s world stutters to a blushing halt. Martin’s right, he doesn’t like to linger on his face in mirrors even on the best days (of which today is certainly not one) and as much as he’s accustomed to doing this himself, what Martin is promising is intimate; an extension of vulnerability and the promise of a care that he hardly takes with himself. The more he considers it, the more finds himself tentatively wanting it, and he nods carefully. He trusts Martin, he’s decided a thousand times by now.

“Alright,” He agrees, and smiles.

Martin smiles in response. “Alright. Do you want me to um-” He gestures with the towel in his hand, and Jon nods.

Martin makes quick work of running the towel under the tap until it’s warm, and then wringing it out so it’s ready to actually use. He takes his seat again and tips Jon’s head back with a hand to lay the towel gently overtop, letting the warmth seep into his skin. It’s more effort than Jon usually puts in, or used to, when he did this more regularly, but he finds it’s a nice feeling, and he almost misses it when Martin takes the towel away again.

“Right,” Martin continues, looks pointedly to the can of shaving cream in Jon’s hand and Jon hesitates.

“Ah. Maybe not that part? Th-the actual shaving is fine, but-”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Martin nods, not questioning, and reaches forward instead to gently take the razor itself from Jon’s fist so he can use both hands to get the shaving cream on his face. Jon surrenders the razor, forcing himself to trust it in Martin’s hands, to trust that Martin won’t just leave him hanging.

He tries not to think too hard about the feeling of the cream on his skin. It’s a far cry from lotion, so it doesn’t bring up any sense memories, thankfully, but it’s still an uncomfortable texture, and he focuses on the sound of Martin’s breathing to keep himself from slipping.

Fortunately it doesn’t take long; soon enough Jon’s finished, wiping his hands on his trousers, and then Martin’s shifting closer, taking Jon’s face in his hands like it’s something precious, something to be loved and cared for. He is very close, his dark brown eyes nearly black with focus as he gently reaffirms that Jon’s sure about this, and then the cool razor swipes across Jon’s cheek.

Jon’s heart lurches in his chest, a messy combination of nerves and gratefulness, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all, and just watches Martin focus with gentle certaintly as the blade passes over his cheeks again and again in careful, confident strokes. His fingers whisper at Jon’s chin when he tilts up his head and swipes the blade carefully up the top of his throat, brow furrowed and tongue poking out of his lips in concentration.

Jon holds his breath, wills his heart to still, but it’s alright, with Martin it’s always alright. His hands are warm as they cup his cheeks, tilt him this way and that, thorough in their task, and his fingertips are gentle as they lift his chin and brush away foam and ghost over his throat. He never even comes close to nicking him, and Jon feels a great warmth unspooling in his chest, stinging his eyes.

“All done,” Martin finishes triumphantly, his face breaking into a grin as he hands Jon the towel again, lets him wipe off his own face.

There’s no coarse texture as the fabric touches his face, no itching or discomfort as it drags over his chin, and the steady drumbeat of wrongness that had pervaded him for weeks finally, finally dissipates, unblocking his lungs and releasing the tightness from his shoulders. He runs a hand over his chin, and finds a shy smile quickly taking over his face, affection and relief filling him up from the inside out and spilling onto his features.

“Thank you,” He breathes, and Martin matches his smile with one of his own, and nods, nothing but respect and affection in his eyes.

“Any time,” Martin says seriously, before reaching out to take Jon’s hand and slowly bringing it to his lips, giving Jon ample time to pull away. “You don’t have to struggle with this stuff alone,” He murmurs against Jon’s knuckles. “It’s easier together.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jon’s response is quiet, and Martin kisses his hand then; gentle, and full of reverence. Jon finds that he could melt right into the floor and be happy for the rest of his life.

He reaches up to pull Martin down into a kiss, gentle and insistent and grateful, lacing his hands in his hair and sighing against his lips at the sensation, noting how nice it feels to kiss his boyfriend without his itching skin pressing at his thoughts.

The kiss stays chaste, and eventually Jon pulls back just enough to press their foreheads together, keeping his eyes closed, reveling in it. “Together, then.” He affirms, and Martin smiles.

“One way or another.”

[astaroth1357]

The Demon Brothers (Minus Asmo) at Their Worst  Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

To the anons who gave me this idea, here it is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m all that happy to bring it to you, cause yikes this hurt to write. I’m grateful, however, because I believe I’m better for it. You shouldn’t always stay in your comfort zone. I left out Asmodeus for personal reasons. Regardless of my ability, given the nature of this challenge, I don’t feel comfortable with writing nor posting graphic content of sexual violence and chose to refrain from doing so. Please do not ask for this to be written at a later date, I will politely refuse then as I am now.

Check out the Masterlist for more.

Warnings: THEIR SINS HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO AN EXTREME (AND ALL THAT IMPLIES), Abusive/Controlling Relationships, Violence, Threat of Human Trafficking, Drowning, Angst, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Intro: Maybe the MC should have known better. It should have sunk in a long time ago that they were in incredibly risky territory... They should have remembered that these men, though they call them friends, family, and perhaps even lovers, are still demons at their heart and core. Each of them are the embodiment of some of the worst behaviors man has to offer... MC, there are some people you just shouldn’t date, even if they love you, and now you suffer the consequences...

Lucifer

It’s not difficult to see how Pride can go awry. Self-confidence and dignity are wonderful things, but let them build up unchecked and all manner of petty, vindictive behavior can surface from within a person... 

Lucifer is far from immune to these flare ups. In fact, he falls victim to them so often that they may as well be ingrained in his personality. If you do anything that mocks or belittles him, even if it’s small, you’ll get a reaction. One that’s usually more severe than offense calls for...

The MC knew this going into a relationship with him. Supposedly, they knew all the no-go zones, too. Don’t make fun of him or Diavolo, don’t mention the Fall or his back, don’t call him a nag... That sort of thing.

What they hadn’t expected was the full brunt of the expectations suddenly leveled on them.

To say Lucifer was demanding would be an understatement. Everything about him had to be poised, powerful, collected, and perfect. Whether he realized it or not, these expectations bled into their relationship as well.

It started with him nitpicking little details... The way they stood, how they styled their hair, maybe a comment or two on what they ate. But it progressively got worse...

Suddenly he found problems with the way they dressed, what they listened to, what shows they watched, even how they greeted him in the mornings!

Before too long, nothing was right to him… Nothing was good enough. They were his other half, his biggest vulnerability, and in order for him to feel secure about that they had to be perfect… However Lucifer defined it.

They listened to him at first. Though his comments stung, he could be so loving too… He truly made them feel special. Like he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it were anyone but them...

But pretty words and kind actions could only go so far. They couldn’t completely erase the vitriol being tossed at them day after day… 

Slowly, with every little change, they could feel themselves start to dwindle… The choices they made felt foreign, the lifestyle they held became draining, and then one day they realized they didn’t even look right anymore… They were no longer the person they wanted to be. 

Lucifer was doing what he set out to do: train them, break them, then mold them into something new... So they could be perfect...

Just like him.

One day, however, they just couldn’t take being the person he wanted anymore...

He found them in their bedroom just before a party that Diavolo had been planning for weeks. Their hair wasn’t fixed and their clothes were a mess. His frustration nearly skyrocketed until he saw their face, vacant and broken, staring blankly straight ahead…

He couldn’t rouse them. They wouldn’t move no matter how much he shouted, threatened, or swore...

….they didn’t even budge when he begged…

His brothers eventually noticed something amiss and took them away. Their disgust with him was fairly evident… They probably would have tried something had he not been the strongest.

He had taken something wonderful and squashed it... Hurt someone he truly loved and ruined what they could have had to protect his damn ego…

Lilith, his brothers, and Satan especially… was everyone he tried to care for just bound to end up broken too…?

The MC’s recovery was slow. They had a lot of damage to repair and a whole new identity to build. He stayed out of it as much as he could, burying himself in work and seeing his brothers less and less...

He’d done enough damage to them anyway...

Mammon

The Greedy, Scummy Second-Born… Words to etch on his tombstone. Mammon had heard it all before from all angles: the demons above him, below him, hell even a passersby on the street would know his face and his laundry list of a rap sheet...

The one person who seemed to look past all that was MC.

He truly didn’t know what sort of karma he’d gained or luck he scored to have them in his life. They didn’t just see him at his best side, they made him want to fix his worst...

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

The sad truth is Mammon is a gambler at heart. Oh he loves the money, the riches, fine things, and the bling but what else does he enjoy? The rush.

There’s nothing like that feeling of triumphant when the dice falls your way or the pure exhilaration of a close bet. When all cards are on the table and everything’s stacked against you, eking out that win can cause a head-rush better than any orgasm he’s ever had... The higher the stakes? The better the high.

But maybe he went a little too far…

It’s one thing to bet Grimm, he can make more of that in a night. It’s another to bet items, harder to replace but not impossible. People…? Well. If you want high stakes…

MC was actually with him that night when he made the “great” decision to bet his most valuable treasure on poker match. He was running out of Grimm and thought that the added risk would make him play better…

He thought wrong.

MC hadn’t been at the table at the time he made the deal, but they had come back just in time to see him get his ass handed to him. He lost. Spectacularly.

When the other demons there came over to encircle MC, it already felt like his world was crumbling down around him... The look of confusion, then hurt and betrayal in their eyes forever seared themselves into his memory.

“You bet me in a poker game?!”

It sounds almost comical, but he knew what the demons were planning to do to them wasn't. And just seeing the way his human’s wrist snapped when one of the men wrenched their arm from them confirmed it.

He wouldn’t let them get away with that. When the threats escalated to violence, he took his share of punches but in the end he was left standing.

The MC was furious. He had just whittled their entire existence down to a bargaining chip and one that he tossed away carelessly…

Yeah, he’s truly a scumbag, isn’t he?

They didn’t talk to him for quite a while, despite him begging for forgiveness. There was always a part of him that wondered why he even bothered… He had done it before, and in another gambling-induced high he would probably do it again…

They’d honestly be better off without him...

Leviathan

It’s, frankly, quite difficult to be the Avatar of Envy. Every day Levi feels uncomfortable in his own skin… Like he doesn’t measure up to this or that or like he’s not worthy of being in the meager position afforded to him. He preferred to hide himself away and try not to dwell on it… but then MC came along…

For once, he felt like he had something. Something truly special. Something one of a kind and like no other… He couldn’t point to any of his brothers and say that they had something better, hell, he couldn’t even point to Diavolo and say that he had a finer version.

No. He had them. The one, the only, MC. Better than all the rest. His only great accomplishment in his miserable, pathetic life...

… so why did they keep leaving him…?

It didn’t hurt that badly at first when they’d tell him they couldn’t go watch some new anime with him because they had other plans. Sometimes they’d go off shopping with Mammon or have lunch with Beel… That was fine. Understandable.

At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

After a while though, he started to feel lonely… rejected… Was he not good enough for them? Surely that had to be it, right?? A miserable shut-in otaku with someone like them? What a joke!

Any time he’d voice his insecurities, they’d always say the same things: “No, don’t be silly!” “I really do want to be with you.” “I love you, Levi. Don’t you believe me?”

No. He didn’t. With each passing hour spent away from him, time where he would get shafted for one of his brothers instead, he believed them less and less…

Soon all he heard was lies…

Something possessed him that day. MC had just missed their third live stream in a row in order to be with his brothers instead. Which one was it? It didn’t really matter. He felt the stinging pain of isolation all the same…

When the MC walked into his room they had no way of knowing that the festering hatred and inadequacy that had been stewing in him for months was about to spill over. His anger was so quick to spark and their human body too weak to resist...

It was only once he realized how long he had their head forced under the water of his aquarium that he finally let them up for air.

He was stepping over himself to apologize, stammering incoherently through his tears how he just lost control and didn’t know what came over him!

His brothers weren’t forgiving. Not in the slightest. Each of them seemed to want to beat him within an inch of his life and he didn’t blame them… If he could get away with it, he’d march himself into the sea and let it serve as his rightful prison…

His punishments were severe, but not unending, and soon he was back in his room again. Now he never leaves it and the MC is never allowed back in, even if they want to be.

He now, truly, doesn’t deserve them at all...

Link to Part Two: Satan, Beel, Belphie

[hopingforromanoff]

Russian Roulette Chapter One {N. Romanoff}

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warnings:I don’t really think there is any. 

Requests are open, so feel free to send in requests and I will do my best to get them posted ASAP. I’m gonna keep them open for now but please be patient with the length of time it takes to finish them.

Y/n: Guys! I’m so excited to finally be posting Russian Roulette, I really enjoyed writing it!

I hope you enjoy!

~Lucy

My Masterlist

Russian Roulette Masterlist 

_______________

On days where she wasn’t away on missions or doing other duties required of her, Natasha Romanoff was a creature of habit. She awoke between the hours of 8 and 8:30. She walked the block from her Upper East Side apartment to the local coffee shop and ordered a large black coffee. And she sat and watched the hustle and bustle of New York City streets pass by her, no one quite knew what or who she was waiting for. 

At around 10, she returned to her apartment and a short while later, a car came to take her to the new Avengers facility, Natasha chose not to live there with the others. She preferred solitude. At the compound, she trained and caught up with the happenings of the world, and what might potentially concern the team.  

Natasha ate dinner with Steve, Tony and all the other permanent residences of the facility. And at around 7:30, Natasha returned to her apartment, where she watched true crime documentaries or read cheesy romance novels until she retired to her bed around 10:30. 

See the thing with creatures of habit is they’re easy to track. Natasha knew better. 

However, today felt different to Natasha. She woke almost an hour earlier than usual, for no apparent reason. She took the long way home from the coffee shop in order to shake the invisible eyes she felt following her on her way to the cafe. She walked a little faster to her waiting car. She kept her hand firmly on her gun when she returned home that night. Natasha just couldn’t shake this uneasy feeling that followed her. 

And at exactly 2:34am the next morning, Natasha awoke to a text from a blocked number. 

9:15. Your usual place. Come alone. 

And so, despite her better judgement and training, ,  Natasha sat, steaming hot coffee in hand, watching and waiting the following morning. 

And there you were, just as she remembered. 

Natasha felt as if time slowed and stopped around her, and the last 20 years seemed to fade into nothing as if they never happened. Emotions she no longer knew she could feel, emotions she hadn’t felt in over two decades flooded her. They ran through her veins with such force that when they hit her chest, Natasha thought her heart would explode. It was beating so fast. 

                             ~23 years earlier. May 24th 1998.~ 

         ~Red Room Academy, Eastern Russia, Exact Location Unknown~

You felt the springs creek and bend through the paper thin mattress as Natasha’s weight dipped the bed. 

“Shouldn’t you be training?” You mumbled, you couldn’t look at Natasha, not after what you had done. Your hand found the rough surface of the frayed rope used to tie you the rusted metal frame of the bed each night. To prevent escaping you were told, though you doubted anyone would be brave enough to try, everyone here was too terrified, or if they weren’t anymore then they were too brainwashed to even think of leaving. 

“They just have us running drills, Madame B and the others are too preoccupied with all the Graduation Ceremony preparations to notice I’m missing anyway, and besides, I thought you might need me” Natasha picked up your red, swollen hand from your lap and placed it in hers. Natasha wiped a drop of fresh blood from your skin, and you winced and tried to pull away as her smooth fingertips ran over the numerous cuts and bruises that were rapidly appearing on your skin. 

“You’re gonna be dead if they find you here” Natasha’s movements came to a stop when your eyes met her emerald green ones. 

“They’re not gonna find me, and even if they did, I wouldn't care, I want to spend as much time as I can with you before you graduate in a few days and I barely get to see you” Natasha broke the eye contact to survey just how injured you really were, and reached into the cabinet next to your bed and pulled out some gauze that had been haphazardly spun into a ball and some disinfectant wipes that she knew you had stolen from the infirmary on one of your many trips. 

“If I graduate” Your voice stayed strong despite the sting of the disinfectant on the large cut on your palm. 

“Oh shut up, you know you’re gonna pass all their tests, you’re the best Widow here” Natasha secured the gauze tightly around your hand. 

“I’ve been here longer, and you’re already almost better than me, imagine how good you’ll be in a few years when you get to your graduation ceremony” your voice trailed off. It wasn’t something you let yourself think about often, on the off chance that you both survived, would you ever be able to have anything more fleeting touches or hushed I love yous? A normal life together? And if you were ever caught? The both of you would be killed, relationships gave you a weak spot, and any sign weakness wasn’t tolerated. You would never truly be free. 

Silence fell over the two of you, it wasn’t a comfortable silence, but one that let you think just a little too much. 

“I can’t believe you can even look at me after what I’ve done” your voice faulted from a moment as hot tears filled your eyes and threatened to fall. You turned your back to her and tried to focus on the soft, dirty pink of your ballet shoes against the grey concrete of the walls around you. 

“Whatever you did, you did because you didn’t have a choice” It didn’t matter to Natasha what you had done because she knew you, she had almost her whole life, and she knew you would never do anything malicious, not if they hadn’t made you. She shifted on the bed behind you, and you jumped a little as her hands fell to either side of your hips. A shiver ran through you as her cold fingers found your warm skin under your uniform.  

“I did have a choice, I could have chosen to die, it would have been better” you snapped in frustration, not at her, but at yourself and the Red Room for making you even have to make a decision like that. You pushed her hands off of you and scooted to the end of the bed. 

“Please don’t talk like that” You didn’t fight her this time, as her hands found your hips and pulled you back to her. You fit perfectly between her legs, like you were meant to be together. 

“ I looked her right in the eyes and I snapped her neck, I felt her take her last breath, and watched the life leave her eyes, she was my friend, I’d rather be dead than live with that”  You felt more and more tears well up in your eyes, you closed them, too tired to fight anymore, and the drops began to fall. 

The sound of a door slamming and heavy boots reverberated down the empty hallway. Loud voices followed, your name mixed in with them. You wiped the flowing tears with your sleeve, leaving your eyes red and puffy, you would be punished for this, for showing emotion. 

“I love you y/n, and I always will, no matter what happens” Your watery eyes met her tears brimmed ones, and you tried to remember every detail of her face, as you never knew which moment would be your last with her. 

“I love you too, Tasha” you kissed her, enjoying the peace it brought for the last few seconds you had before everything would change. In her kiss, you were home, she would always be your home. 

Natasha gave your hand one more tight squeeze, and she managed to jump away from you just in time for the heavy, metal door to explode open with a bang. 

Natasha watched as the older, graduated Widow pulled you from the bed by your wrist. It burned, and you fought the urge to cry out as she applied heavy pressure to your open wounds. You could see the fire in Natasha's eyes, you pleaded with her with your eyes to not act on what she was thinking, if she fought back it would be a certain death sentence for her. 

 The slam of the door shook the walls as you left and the sounds of footsteps echoed through the halls. Those sounds would echo through Natasha’s mind for two decades as the last memory she had of you. 

Taglist:   @too-gay-for-marvel  @athenapotter​

Russian Roulette Taglist: @slytherinchevy​

[gureishi]

10 and Saeyoung if that's okay, thank you! 💕

Thank you for this request, darling anon! And I am so so sorry, but I have written a reset theory fic. I never do this! Really! But this prompt was screaming at me, and I just had to. If you don’t mind a bit of pain, I hope you enjoy this. It’s the good kind of pain, I promise. ♡

i can feel you even now

Saeyoung X Reader, T (cw: reset theory, angst), words: 2223

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

There is an indent in the pillow where you used to sleep, and he isn’t smoothing it out.

It has been eleven hours, forty-two minutes, and seventeen seconds since you were here—which means, Saeyoung thinks (drumming his fingers impatiently on his desk, averting his eyes from his work phone, which is buzzing insistently), that he may get to talk to you again very soon.

He doesn’t know for sure that you’ll be back tonight. But lately, you haven’t been waiting long.

He spins around aimlessly in his chair. Checks the clock. Eleven hours, forty-two minutes, and fifty seconds.

The first time you left him, you were gone for weeks, and he nearly gave up altogether. He ignored his agency; he spurned his friends. He stopped checked the messenger; he didn’t pick up his work phone. It was a miracle that he survived those few weeks—a miracle he opened the messenger when he did (feeling a tingling in his fingers that told him, inexplicably, that you had returned).

And when you didn’t remember him, he felt sick to his stomach. His head pounded; his vision went fuzzy, like he, too, was fading out of existence. But he held on, somehow, for you: went through the motions the way he always had, because he didn’t know what else to do. Because you’d want him to. Because he knew, somehow, that you would find your way back to him.

And you did. And it was different—and it was the same. You loved him every bit as fiercely as before, though the way you told him was different, and though your eyes were softer. Almost as if you knew that you had been here before.

And the more he looked at you, the hazier his memories became—till he wasn’t even sure what was past or present; till he could no longer remember how you had been before you had left him for the first time.

It all come rushing back when you disappeared again. You left—you returned. You left again. You came back.

He never got used to it. But he knows, now, what to expect.

He knows what time of day you usually slip back into his world—unnoticed, unseen, a tiny blip in the fabric that holds the universes together. He knows how you will behave when you want him—knows what you will say when you don’t. You don’t always choose him—and when you don’t, his heart arches like it has been submerged in a noxious liquid: burning, melting.

But most of the time, you choose him.

Most of the time, you make your wandering way back to him—different and the same, nostalgic and new—and his photographic memory can’t manage it, somehow, and all the moments of your past and present and tenuous future blur together into a mess of touches and delight, terror and devotion.

He tucks his legs up into his chair: a physical manifestation of the anxiety knotting in his chest. He looks at his phone.

Eleven hours, forty-six minutes, and twelve seconds.

You were with him longer, this time, than ever before.

He doesn’t check if the pictures of you are still saved on his phone. He knows they are gone—they always are.

But he doesn’t need them: your face is fixed in his mind like it has been carved by a hot knife into smoldering metal. He closes his eyes, his head pounding, and can see the shadows your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. He can see your jaw when it is lit by sparkling sun, as you sit in the passenger seat of his car; he can see the way your shoulders shake when he makes you laugh. He almost believes that if he stretches out his weary hand, he will touch your arm: find it soft and warm; feel your hands curling around his, the way they always do. He can hear the way you breathe when you’re sleeping; he can hear you calling his name.

Who is he, he thinks, without you?

With you, he is Saeyoung, and Saeyoung is someone who is soft and scarred and shifting. And loved; Saeyoung is loved. But without you, he is only Seven, and Seven is no one at all.

Ah: he feels sick again.

His work phone buzzes itself off the desk, and he doesn’t bother to pick it up. He digs his palms into his closed eyes and sees shades of purple and red; his office is dark, because it’s late and he hasn’t turned on any lights. 

When you are here, the house is always full of light. He laughed—just yesterday (a lifetime ago), telling you that you were going to run up his electricity bill. You had lights on in the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom, the bathroom—as though determined to flood his sad, underground home with brightness. You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose.

“You can afford it,” you told him.

You padded around his home barefoot. You left your socks everywhere—and you were so clean otherwise, but in this one way, you were messy (just like him).

“I like that it looks like I live here,” you told him once—not recently, but two returns ago. “It makes me happy to know I belong.”

His other phone lights up: the messenger. But it is not midnight yet, so he turns the phone over. It can’t be you. If you are coming at all, you won’t be here yet.

The gaps have gotten shorter lately. Sometimes you are gone for only a day or two; last time, it was just twelve hours. 

But he doesn’t tell you.

He wants to—oh, how he wants to whisper yes, I know when you tell him you love him for what you think is the first time. But he can’t, because when you look at him like that he is incapacitated; but he can’t, because he fears that if you know the truth, you won’t ever come back.

Saeyoung doesn’t know if time itself is repeating, or if he alone is stuck—fated to loop forever and ever around the moment in his life that means the most. He doesn’t know where you go when you leave his side—doesn’t know if there is another life you’re returning to.

Take me with you, he thinks. I’ll live there too.

He flips his phone back over again to check the time.

Eleven hours, fifty-two minutes, and thirty-three seconds.

You left at exactly noon. He knew it was coming—had feared, for days, that it would happen at any moment. The world was letting him have this for too long, he thought—so many nights in a row with you in his arms.

He often wonders if the circling of time is divine punishment for the person he used to be. But with you, he is becoming someone else—a person you can be proud of.

But he understands that he doesn’t get forever with you.

He knew, earlier today, that the time was drawing near, and so he tried not to leave your side. He has never seen the way you leave: never understood if you walk out a door and faded away, or simply disappear right where you are standing. No matter how hard he looks, how closely he watches—it always happens when his back is turned.

This time, you left him for a moment only. You slept in that day; it was late morning, and he was in the kitchen watching you make coffee. He was smiling at the way your hair kept falling into your eyes. 

“Be right back,” you said cheerily. You went to the pantry for the jar of unground coffee.

“I’ll come with you,” he started to say—but the words died on his lips as you turned the corner.

Oh, he thought. This is it.

You didn’t come back.

He waited—perched on the counter, frozen in place—until his legs cramped up and his head started to ache. At last, he checked the coffee maker: empty, though you’d filled the canister with water just before you left. He didn’t retrace your steps—didn’t go to the pantry to see the spot where you’d vanished.

He’d tried that before. It had been excruciating.

He gets up from his desk, now—walks aimlessly down the hall, returns to the bedroom. He turns on the light—winces as it burns his eyes.

And there is the indent in the pillow: just the shape of your head. The objects you leave behind disappear, but the marks you leave linger. And he made the bed that morning, before you left—but he didn’t smooth out your pillow. He never does.

Just in case.

He sits carefully on the edge of the bed—feeling, for some reason, that he shouldn’t wrinkle the sheets (though he doesn’t know quite why he bothers). Even if you return tonight—even if you return at all—it will be weeks before you are back in this house.

He tries to swallow, and finds it difficult.

He’s not sure he’ll be able to sleep in this bed while you’re gone.

Often, after you’ve left, he sleeps at his desk—as he sometimes used to before you appeared in his life. Sometimes he sleeps in the living room, with all the lights on so he doesn’t have to see how dark it is in here, without the glowing stars he has on the ceiling of his bedroom. And sometimes he does come back to his bed: is thankful, at least, that no one can see him as he presses his face into the pillow that used to be yours and fights with his stinging eyes.

He paces the room. He feels something—not the emptiness he is used to, but something new. Like fire.

Ah—he knows this feeling. He is angry.

He hates the universe, he thinks, for cursing him the way it has—hates the other place you go, for taking you away from him. Hates you, for appearing in his life against all odds and putting the pieces of him together, then leaving him half-complete and longing to hold you.

No.

No—he doesn’t hate you. He hates the way his chest feels, like it’s caving in; hates the fear that claws at his stomach as he waits for you. But there is not one single thing about you that he doesn’t love.

You are good—too good, to care for someone like him. You are kind; you are forgiving. You are resilient.

You keep coming back.

Saeyoung flips the lights off, not allowing himself a last glance at the pillow. He makes his way back down the hall.

He steps on something.

And before he has stooped to pick it up, he knows—knows, in the part of his heart that always waits for your return; knows, in the tips of his fingers that remember how it feels to touch your cheek. His heart is in his throat.

He bends down. It is a sock.

Oh, and it’s a small sock, smaller than his—and it is short and brightly colored, and it has been left here all on its own, its partner discarded carelessly in another room. 

Breathlessly, he says your name. The air seems to shimmer in the wake of his voice.

Because always, when you leave, the signs of you go too: the coffee maker is empty, the shoes are gone from the entryway, your clothes are no longer in his closet. The socks disappear from the halls.

Saeyoung is used to the way things are. But this—this is something new.

He stumbles mindlessly back to his office, the sock in his shaky hand. Breaking, he thinks wildly—shifting. Whatever strange twist of fate is taking you from him again and again is falling apart—or the walls between his world and yours are crumbling—or he misses you enough that you just can’t quite leave him behind.

It’s changing, he thinks—with a certainty he didn’t know he had.

He sinks into his chair. Eleven hours, fifty-nine minutes, and seven seconds. His head is spinning. Something has shifted in the very fabric of the universe. Something is falling apart. Something is being born anew.

For the first time in eleven hours, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-five seconds, he feels a tiny flickering in his chest: a little fluttery thing. Less familiar.

It’s hope.

He opens the messenger. There are five people logged in. He closes his eyes. He tries to breathe.

Three, two, one…

He opens his eyes.

Six: there are six people now.

His fingers shake as he pulls up the users on his computer: and there you are. Not here, beside him, but in this world—one step closer to falling right back into his arms.

His dark office feels brighter, all of a sudden. He whispers your name again: intones it, like a prayer, into the still air.

This time will be different, he thinks—not with his mind, but with his whole aching, beating, longing heart.

This time, I’m not letting you go.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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[loki-hargreeves]

You Flower, You Feast - Loki x Reader [PART 2]

[PART 1]

Warnings: pregnancy, relationship issues, morning sickness, angst, fighting, flinching, falling ill, magical medical procedures, mentions of death (possibility of dying, but no one dies), mentions of torture, hurt/comfort, bittersweet fluff and implied smut (love making) at the end

Word Count: 8,1K

Summary: Part 2 of ‘you flower, you feast’. You’re pregnant, but you’re hiding the fact from Loki. After his return, he has been different and you haven’t been able to confide in him like you did before. The truth is revealed after you end up in the infirmary after getting sick. The fear of almost losing you makes Loki realize that things need to change, and he finally tells you what happened to him after he fell from the bridge. It seems like he’s finally back again. 

Author’s Note: You don’t really have to read the first part in order to read this, but it would help paint a fuller picture. The first part has smut, but the plot is quite long as well. I hope you’ll enjoy this! Requested by @sunshineyrosie​

   THIRD POV

The sickness took over Y/N by surprise. She had just woken up and she immediately knew that something was wrong. Without wasting any time, she got up from the safety of the warm bed, running toward the bathroom that was in her and Loki’s shared quarters. By the time she reached the toilet, everything she had eaten the previous day came up, making her eyes and nose sting. It made her stomach sick when she coughed up everything which left a foul taste in her mouth. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she had woken up so abruptly. When she was finished, she cleaned up after herself and had to rinse her mouth thoroughly. 

A thought crossed her mind as she wondered why she was so nauseous. Could it be? Could she be pregnant? 

It had been a few weeks since she and Loki had decided to try for a baby. For countless nights, they had been tangled in a rough dance and her body had every mark to prove that. Not that it didn’t feel great, because the rough sex with Loki was mind-blowing, but that was all it was; rough. Loki was still not letting her in. He was hiding behind his tall and strong walls and she was afraid he’d never break them down. It felt like he used the sex as a distraction. 

Y/N put a hand on her stomach and realized that if she was carrying a child - their child - it would change their lives. Would Loki change? What if he stayed the same, distant and rough man. Could that be good for a child? 

“Are you in there?” Loki’s voice startled her. He hadn’t been in bed when she had woken up, but now he was right behind the bathroom door. 

Although she was still in shock, she tried to push her thoughts away. Her hand dropped to her side and she cleared her throat, “Yeah,” letting him know she was awake and well. 

“Is everything alright?” Loki wondered. It was sweet of him to care. Perhaps he was hoping to hear some positive news, but she wasn’t going to tell him. Not yet. 

Y/N took one last glance in the mirror, noticing just how tired she looked. Perhaps a bath would make her feel better and more at ease? She decided to get the water running.

“I’m fine, Loki. I’m going to take a bath,” She let him know, leaving an open invitation for him to join her. 

The door opened and Loki walked in. He had magicked his clothes on because once they were in private, they came off by vanishing into thin air. “Mind if I join you?” 

The water began to flow silently into the big bathtub. Surely, the hot water would make her feel better. Perhaps Loki would benefit from the relaxation it offered too. 

“Sounds great,” She smiled, but she didn’t sound too convincing. Her morning sickness was fresh on her mind and all she could think about was the possibility of being pregnant. For some reason, it absolutely terrified her. If only Loki was alright, so she could confide in him. How would he react to the news? Would he be mad if she hid it from him? 

As the two of them sunk into the water that smelled of lavender and other expensive herbs and oils, Y/N leaned against Loki’s body. She was still exhausted and she wished that even for a moment, they could just be like this. It reminded her of the good old days when they were so happy. Everything had changed. Being like that, so close was lovely. 

Loki’s skilled fingers traced patterns over her exposed skin. He was careful not to apply too much pressure to the fresh love-bites and bruises among the old ones. If anyone saw her like that, it would be obvious that she was his, and vice versa. Loki’s back was certainly covered in scratches.

Y/N wondered if Loki could feel the way her heart was pounding in her chest. She wondered if he could tell she was troubled by her own thoughts. Did he still care? 

“What’s on your mind, dear?” He noticed that something was different. For weeks, everything had been out of the ordinary. Was he simply imagining it or was she distracted by something? 

She blinked a few times, hoping to get rid of the sleepiness that still had a hold on her. Then she faced Loki, searching for something familiar in his eyes. She knew that he was still in there, and sometimes it showed, like in moments like these. 

What is on my mind? She thought. She wanted to know what happened to Loki on the bridge because Thor and Odin refused to tell her the details. What happened to him after that? Where had he been and who had he been with? Why did Loki show up on Midgard with the goal of taking over the realm? Why had he visited Earth out of all places before coming to her? Had he missed her? Because she had missed him more than words could’ve ever expressed. The nights she spent in the palace where she couldn’t escape his memory, thinking he was dead, had been absolutely dreadful. She had thought of him every single day. 

“Nothing, I’m just tired,” Y/N sighed and decided to keep things to herself, for now. It was better that way. Perhaps Loki saw that she was lying, but he decided not to poke holes in her story. Deep down, he feared he might’ve already known the answer. Guilt was tormenting him already but he had no clue how to deal with it. Where would he even begin? It was easier to shut her out. 

                                                           A few weeks passed, and she held tight onto her secret. By now it was clear as daylight that she was expecting a child, their child. It should’ve been easy to tell Loki, but so far she kept it to herself. Sometimes it felt like Y/N was trying to fool her own mind and lie to herself. Despite it all, she knew that it was wrong. At some point, he would find out whether she liked it or not and she knew it would be best if Loki heard it from her. Yes, he wanted a child. But how would he react? Was he ready? Was he having these fantasies merely so they would stay together? What if he didn’t actually want a baby and he’d be mad? 

Y/N hated the thoughts she had. She absolutely despised the fact she feared him for no good reason. Loki had never hurt her and he had never implied that he would, yet her mind twisted things. He had changed, and she still didn’t know why. Would she ever see the old him again? 

It was midday and the sun was bright enough that even inside in the great library in the palace, she could read with ease without additional lights. With a cup of tea by her side and a book in her hand, she focused on the fictional world she was reading about, completely blocking out her real life for just a moment. In stories that had never happened, nothing mattered. She could look into a character’s life and worry about their problems instead of her own. Besides, for a few days now she had felt sick to her stomach and a headache had been prominent for days on end now. Not even her own magic had pushed it away which was unusual, but she assumed it was because of the pregnancy. Therefore she didn’t think to mention her odd symptoms to anyone. Not that anyone would’ve cared much of a headache anyway. 

When she put the book down, it was much darker. Through the sheer curtains, she could see the sun was setting, which painted all of Asgard golden and pink. When had she finished her tea?

“Y/N?” Loki’s familiar voice caught her attention. Time had passed quicker than she could’ve expected, and she realized that she had forgotten to meet him. They had planned on eating dinner together that day. 

Quickly, she put the book down and she got up, noticing how stiff she felt after having been frozen on one spot for several hours probably. For a moment, she felt dizzy which she blamed on for standing up so fast.

“I’m here!” She let him know about her whereabouts as slowly the occurrences of the protagonist faded away from her mind. 

As Loki walked up to her, he seemed relieved - but only for a short while. 

“I was worried when you didn’t show up,” He said honestly. It was possibly the most caring thing he had said since his return, yet he was probably disappointed. Y/N quickly wiped away her bitter thoughts and focused on the brighter side. Despite how guilty she felt about missing their dinner date, she thought it was a great opportunity to try to dig deeper into what happened to him. Perhaps he’d open up?

“I’m so sorry, Loki, I am,” Y/N apologized sincerely, closing the gap between them. She felt hopeful when Loki let her take his hands in hers. His were always so soft, even when his touch was rougher than before between the sheets these days. His hands never changed. “I wasn’t feeling well and when I opened the book, I didn’t even notice how much time had passed until now.”

Loki overlooked what she said about feeling unwell. Perhaps it was wrong but he assumed she was avoiding him. Truthfully, he knew he had been a lot to handle recently. Hell, if he had been in her shoes, he would’ve probably avoided himself too. Loki couldn’t be too mad at her, because he did blame himself a lot. If only he knew how to change. His mind would surely be the end of him. 

“Hey,” Y/N noticed how lost he seemed in his own head, “Are you alright?”

A smile spread on his face, completely disregarding the sad trace that glimmered in his eyes a moment ago. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

So defensive, she thought. “If there’s anything you want to talk about, I hope you know I’m here for you.”

Loki recognized that look on her face. It was pity, and he hated it. Loki didn’t want her pity, he didn’t feel deserving of it. 

He pulled his hands out of her gentle grasp, “Do you think I can’t take care of myself?” 

The way he assumed things that she would never think was infuriating. Perhaps he was taking a toll on Y/N’s nerves because her headache was getting worse and she felt her blood boiling beneath her skin. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold up with his, and pretend as nothing had ever happened, or how long she could keep it a secret that she was carrying their child and she was unsure whether or not it was a good idea to have this baby. The guilt and pain were tormenting her. 

“That’s not what I said, Loki-”

“You were thinking it, were you not?” Loki didn’t know why he said that, but now it was too late. He didn’t wish to fight with her, but it seemed like his own thoughts and feelings were about to pour over the brim. 

A sigh escaped her lips and she felt like sitting down. The world around her was spinning and she wasn’t sure if it was just her nerves burning up that was causing it. It grew worse at an alarming rate and she felt cold sweat on her skin. 

“Don’t twist my words, Loki,” She groaned, more annoyed at the sick feeling that was overwhelming her rather than his attitude. 

Those words she said were a sharp reminder of the moment Loki shared with Odin. When he lifted the ice casket, when he confronted his so-called father and found out that he had been taken from Jotunheim as an infant. 

Loki’s heart was breaking in his chest piece by piece. The lie he had grown up in was now shattering and he saw through the cracks. Everything was beginning to make more sense. The pain and pure agony he felt was barely contained. He kept his teary-eyed glued onto his father, Odin, who wasn’t that much of his father after all. 

“The casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

Odin looked shocked, but he didn’t look sad. It was like he cared more about being caught in a lie rather than being caught as a liar and a terrible father. Odin never cared about Loki, did he? Loki began to believe that he had never even been loved by him. Why did Odin know about Loki’s blue skin? Why did he know that it wasn’t a curse? It should’ve been a major shock to anyone, but Odin knew...

“No,” Odin eventually answered him.

Loki stopped walking once they were close enough for his liking. He wanted Odin to see his wrath and fury, and he wanted to see the shame on Odin’s face. 

“In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple and I found a baby - small for a giant’s offspring,” Odin recalled the day he found Loki. Of course, he didn’t tell Loki the exact story of the events that occurred. Odin wanted it to seem more glorious and heroic than it actually was. Loki would never know. “Abandoned, suffering....left to die.”

“Laufey’s son,” Odin confirmed.

“Laufey’s son,” Loki had to repeat that in order to process what he just heard. They were only two words, but he felt tears gathering in his eyes and he was choking up which he tried to ease by swallowing thickly, nervously. 

“Yes,” Odin nodded. He was oddly calm.

Loki stood there in shock, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. As if it wasn’t worse enough that his family had lied to him his entire life, now he was hearing that his actual family hadn’t wanted him either. Could it be true? That he was a prince that no one wanted to see become a king? Had he ever been worthy of love? What would Y/N think of him once she’d find out about his true origin? Would she stop loving him? 

“Why?” Loki struggled as he searched for the words he wanted to use. His thoughts were racing in his head and he felt like he would go mad if he tried to think too much right now. “You were knee-deep in Jotun blood, why would you take me?” 

“You were an innocent child-”

Loki could smell Odin’s lie from a mile away and it fueled his rage, “No. You took me for a purpose, what was it?” Loki had to know, even if he feared it would torment him for the rest of his life. There had to be a reason, Odin didn’t care for abandoned babies - otherwise, the palace would be full of children.

Odin was shocked that Loki had interrupted him, let alone refused to listen to his sorrow story. How would he react if he told him the real truth? Odin wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

The silence in the vault was uncomfortable, and it was burning on their skin. For Loki, the silence was dreadful and he couldn’t take it, 

“TELL ME!” He demanded loudly, his painful cry echoing throughout the entire room and surely beyond the golden walls. 

Odin couldn’t look Loki in the eye, “I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace through you.”

Tears rolled down Loki’s face now, which he couldn’t control anymore. What Odin said was almost worse than not knowing at all. Odin had only seen an opportunity in Loki as an object, as a piece in negotiation. 

“Why?” 

“But those plans no longer matter,” Odin was quick to reassure him, but Loki doubted that. How could he ever trust another word that came out of his mouth ever again? That man had lied about Loki’s entire existence, made him believe that his own race was the pure evil enemy of the nine realms. Loki had heard Odin bash about how he had defeated the Jotuns in battle, and killed unimaginable amounts of Jotun soldiers. He had said those things as he kept the secret of Loki’s true nature. It was gross, it made Loki taste muck in his mouth.

“So I’m no more than another stolen relic,” Loki looked at the other stolen things in the vault that he was surrounded by, which was incredibly ironic, “locked up, here, until you might have use of me?” 

Odin didn’t enjoy being talked back to. He couldn’t foresee this ever happening and he couldn’t imagine what Loki was going through. The old king could only think about himself, about how he had faced this before with Hela. Why were his children not good enough? 

“Why do you twist my words?” 

Odin’s question echoed in Loki’s head and for a moment, he forgot the conversation that he had with his wife, one that was quickly escalating into a fight. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened sooner.

“Loki,” Y/N noticed that somehow, her words had affected him terribly. She wanted to know why. One side of her mind told her to give it up, to keep pretending like everything was fine because clearly Loki was still hurt. Another part of her wanted to encourage him to open up, to trust her again. She wanted to help him. The rough sex and silence afterwards would only get toxic and it wasn’t good for any of them long term. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” Loki made up his mind. 

Being pushed away constantly was not only frustrating but painful. When they got married, they had become a team. They had to be there for each other through the good and the bad. She had promised to be his rock, to be the one he could confide in no matter what. Suddenly, guilt overwhelmed her. He had promised that to her as well, and yet she hadn’t told Loki about the baby. 

“How can you say that if you don’t even try to make me understand?” She wondered, almost demanding him to say something, anything at all other than dismissive sentences and strange gazes.

Where would he even begin? It had been so long, and Loki had seen so much. Would he tell her about what happened on Asgard? Or should he begin with the titan that still haunted him like a shadow. 

“Loki, what happened to you on that bridge?” Y/N dared to ask him about something that surely was a sore spot. No one had told her, although she had asked many times. Thor had tried to come up with a heroic explanation for it all, but Y/N knew it to be all lies. Something darker had happened and she wanted to know so that she could help Loki. 

Had they really not told her? Loki was surprised at how little she truly knew. A broken smile spread on his face. Odin and Thor hadn’t had the guts to tell her the truth. They were so cowardly, it was almost comedic in a way. 

“What did they tell you happened?” 

“They told me lie after lie. I don’t care about their version of the story. Loki, the only story I care about is yours,” She let out a shaky breath. The spinning was getting worse by the second. Had she consumed something bad?

Loki wanted to tell her, but he knew the truth would put her through a lot of sorrow. Would she still care for him if she knew everything?

He held onto his words for a while longer. Every cell in his body was burning with longing, wanting to tell her everything, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Besides, he kept thinking about Odin which agitated him. Why did he have to make it into every aspect of his life? 

Loki fell silent and watched her walk away. Instead of trying to reach for him, she walked to the nearest bookcase and leaned against the fine wood. 

“What’s going on?” Loki realized how oddly she was behaving. Perhaps she was genuinely feeling under the weather? His anger began to fade as it was replaced by worry. 

“Nothing!” She hissed, lying, but only because she didn’t want to focus on her. 

Loki couldn’t bear hearing her lies, as ironic as it was. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N, I can tell that something is off!”

As he spoke with a loud voice and walked towards her, Y/N flinched. She didn’t mean to, but the loud noise and his abrupt movement had startled her. Her hand quickly covered her stomach, which was completely unintentional and her eyes widened in shock. Why did she react like that?

Loki stilled completely, unable to believe what happened. Did she think he would harm her? Was she afraid of him? 

“Did you think I was going to hurt you?” He muttered in disbelief. Seeing the look on her face made Loki feel disgusted with himself. He felt like a monster. 

Y/N let her hand fall to her side. 

“No, I just...I don’t know, Loki,” She felt awful for even thinking about it. That was Loki! Her husband. The man she was in love with. If it wasn’t for the torturous headache and nausea she was suffering from, she would’ve hugged him and reassured Loki that she wasn’t afraid of him, but right now all she could do was  lean against the steady bookcase. Y/N was convinced that her balance would betray her if she tried to stand all on her own. 

It was definitely not something she could’ve ignored furthermore. In a desperate attempt to make things right, she tried to walk to Loki. Although she was lightheaded and everything around her began to turn into a blurry mess, she knew one thing; she needed Loki. She couldn’t let him think he was a monstrous creature. She hadn’t meant to flinch like that - it just happened. 

Whenever times were troubling or she was afraid, she always wanted to be with him.

Loki noticed how quickly her demeanor was changing. It almost looked like she was intoxicated. The way she massaged her temples and how she leaned into her own touch, looking dizzy even though she was standing, was strange. As he looked closer, he noticed that her body was trembling ever so slightly. The sight of her like that calmed his anger since it got replaced by worry. 

“Y/N?” He wanted to see her face. Was she crying?

She took a step toward him and almost tripped over her own feet. Loki caught her in his arms just in time. 

“That’s it, I’m taking you to the infirmary,” Loki made up his mind, past conversation now long forgotten. The only thing that mattered was her well-being. Frankly, seeing her like that terrified Loki. During all the years they had spent together, he had never seen her like this and it was more than alarming. 

The walk from the palace library to the infirmary wasn’t that long, but it felt like it took them hours. With every step they took, she seemed to get weaker. By the time they were walking down the hallway to the infirmary, Loki had to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her on her feet - otherwise she would’ve fallen on the cold, hard floor. 

The healers had seen them coming. Without a shared word being said, they took Y/N from him and placed her on the bright inspection bed nearby where they could figure out what was wrong with her. Loki wanted to stay, but everything escalated incredibly fast, leaving him in the side. There was no way he would’ve pushed himself between the people who were trying to help her.

The words everyone said merged together, and it seemed like he could only hear his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. He just stood there and watched as the love of his life was surrounded by the best healers in the nine realms and even they seemed panicked. Something was terribly wrong. 

The gold magic surrounded her and Loki caught a glimpse of the soul forge that the healers were examining. Even if he had wanted to focus on it, he wasn’t sure if he could’ve. Loki looked at Y/N again whose eyes were closed by now and she looked to be asleep, only he knew that she wasn’t resting. 

He didn’t really phantom how much time had passed until a healer walked up to him, gesturing Loki to walk further away.

“We need to use drastic magic in order to heal her,” She explained carefully, not wanting to upset the prince.

“What’s wrong with her?” Loki had to know, worry clear in his voice. 

The healer looked lost, almost nervous. “There is a blockage in her head. The magic it requires to heal her is strong and we do not know if the baby will survive it.”

The baby?

Loki’s mouth fell open but he didn’t find any words. He was already in shock when she fell ill so fast, but to hear about a baby was like a bucket of ice cold water was doused over him. She was pregnant?

The lady knew that there was no time they could waste, so she was forced to move on, “Since you are the father, we need your opinion on the procedure. Are you willing to risk losing the baby-”

“Yes!” Loki couldn’t believe they were asking him that. “Yes, please, I just need her to survive.” He didn’t want to lose the child that he just learned existed, but most importantly he couldn’t imagine losing her. Nothing else mattered than his wife’s well-being. If he lost Y/N, he would lose himself. As tragic as the idea was of possibly losing their unborn child, it would be even worse to lose her. After all, there was only one of Y/N. They could always try to start a family of their own again if they wanted to.

They took her away and Loki was forced to wait outside the infirmary. He had no clue what they were doing to her, and he couldn’t just stand in the hallway and wait. Loki was going to retreat to the privacy of their shared quarters, but it felt like his legs had turned to pillars of ice. As he stood there, taken back by shock and tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, he heard footsteps coming his way. As Loki glanced in the direction, he saw Lady Sif walking there along with Frigga. Right now, the last thing he desired was to talk to anyone. 

“What happened?” Frigga seemed concerned, looking into the infirmary and then at her son who had tears in his green eyes. It hurt her to see him like that. 

“I don’t know,” Loki realized he hadn’t spoken in  a while. He wasn’t sure how long he had stood there, but by now it was dark outside. His heart was still racing and it felt like the world was caving in on him. “She fell ill so suddenly, they said it’s serious,” Loki pushed the words out of his mouth. Saying it out loud just made it real, and now he felt like crying the pain away. 

Lady Sif didn’t say anything, but Loki felt a pair of judging eyes on his skin. She probably thought it was Loki’s fault somehow,

Was it?

He couldn’t help but wonder if he had noticed these signs sooner, would she be alright?

Frigga pulled Loki into a hug and he didn’t resist it. In fact, it felt comforting to be held. Had it been any other day recently, he would’ve pushed her away but not now. Loki hugged her back and wished that Sif would turn around. As he leaned against his mother’s touch, he felt his own tears rolling down his face silently. 

Y/N was pregnant, but he wouldn’t tell them. Not now. 

“She’ll be alright,” Frigga attempted to comfort him. There was a certainty in her voice that Loki wanted to find solace in. He knew there was no way she could tell whether or not Y/N would be alright, but in that moment it was nice to believe that. 

               The headache had turned into a dull pain, which felt so good compared to what it had been before. It was warm in the air around Y/N and she felt oddly comfortable. She was waking up from sleep, but she couldn’t remember falling asleep. Why was it so dark? 

As she opened her eyes, she quickly learned where she was. The palace infirmary. The healer’s weren’t anywhere to be seen, but someone was holding her hand. 

It was Loki.

He was awake and he looked at her with glistening eyes. She noticed just how exhausted he looked and it made her heart sting. 

The baby!

Y/N had to know the baby was safe. In a moment of worry and confusion, she put her hand on her belly and opened her mouth, “is it safe?” 

Then she realized she had never told him. For so many mornings now she had been woken up because of the feisty little thing, that she had grown accustomed to it. If Loki hadn’t known, now he certainly did.

“The baby is safe, Y/N,” Loki finally spoke. He didn’t sound resentful at all. Instead, there was a calm in his voice, because of how relieved he was. Not only did the baby make it, but so did she. The healers had worked their magic just in time and therefore both of them had been saved. For a moment, Loki had been afraid that he had lost them. 

Guilt began to crawl beneath her skin. Although she rested comfortably on the soft bed, she didn’t feel good. Nothing had gone to plan. Loki had deserved to find out about the pregnancy differently. 

“I was afraid I’d lose you,” Loki admitted, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly. It felt so good to hold her, to know she was alive and well. 

Slowly, she tilted her head so she could face him. Had Loki been crying? The sight of him like that, with slumped shoulders, messy hair and sad eyes was heartbreaking. As if he hadn’t gone through enough already. 

“Thank you,” She barely got the words out of her mouth. Loki had been the one who took her there in time. Surely, if he hadn’t come to the library, she would’ve been sprawled on the couch, book in hand and with a terrible headache  - or worse. She didn’t want to think about it. 

“They said you had something in your head. It could’ve...it could’ve taken your life,” Loki recalled what the healers had explained to him as he had listened half-heartedly. His mind had been tampered with worried thoughts and guilt-riddled ideas. All that mattered was that they were both safe and sound. 

Whatever it was, Y/N was just glad they were alright. All she could think about was the baby. She felt bad for ignoring her symptoms for so long. Had she endangered the fetus? What had caused it? Would she ever know?

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” By now she had teared up. The words struggled to pour from her quivering lips. 

Loki brushed his fingers on her face, attempting to comfort her the best way he could. His touch was so gentle, so affectionate. It sent shivers down her spine. The gentle touch reminded her of how things used to be. 

“How long have you known?” Loki was almost afraid to ask. 

“A few weeks. I wasn’t sure until recently.”

“Right…” He couldn’t blame her for hiding the fact. During the several hours he had spent sitting by her bedside, he had thought over the time they had spent together in the past few weeks since his return. The fact that she could feel guilty about it was mind boggling to him. Loki was angry at himself for just how much he had pushed her away. It was no wonder she didn’t fully trust him. Each time she had tried to connect with him, he had turned a blind eye or he had distracted both of them with sex. As he thought of it, it made his stomach twist in knots. 

Y/N could tell that Loki was deep in thought. She squeezed his hand lightly, “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know how.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Loki was quick to reassure her. Once again, he felt tears in his eyes, blurring his vision. He hated crying, but sometimes he couldn’t make it stop. It was time for them to fix things.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N blinked and felt tears sliding down across her face and her neck. Despite his comforting words, she felt guilty. The pain she had carried in her heart for weeks now was seeing daylight and it felt fresh. It was all so overwhelming. 

Loki leaned closer to her and pressed a kiss on her forehead. She could feel how his lips were trembling ever so slightly.

“It’s going to be alright,” Loki whispered after a while. “I promise. I’ve shut you out for far too long.”

Was he going to open up to her? 

Loki recognized the hopeful gleam in her teary eyes. He knew how important it was for both of them to discuss what had happened. They couldn’t move on if they pretended that he had never been gone in the first place. But he wasn’t going to speak of it now when she was recovering. 

“I love you, Loki,” She murmured softly and managed to crack a smile. 

His heart swelled with affection. God, he loved her more than she could ever know. Loki couldn’t understand how he had treated her, it made him angry. 

“I love you too,” He returned the words to her. Loki might’ve been a master at lying, but when he professed his love to her, no one could deny the sincerity in his words. 

Carefully, he moved his hand and placed it over her stomach, where he figured the baby was. He felt goosebumps all over his skin as he laid his palm flat over her. Knowing that their child was growing there was astonishing. Loki felt so lucky that he was going to start a family with her. 

No more words were needed. Y/N could tell what he was thinking. He loved both of them so much.

                                A few days later, she was feeling much better. The healers had told her to take it easy for a while, especially now as she was pregnant. Returning to her and Loki’s quarters was exciting. Finally, some proper privacy. 

Ever since the incident, something changed in Loki. Perhaps it was the startling revelation that he almost lost her that changed him. Time was precious, even for them. He had been away from her long enough and he wanted to make up for the wasted time. 

Although they had been quite happy for the past few days, he knew it would all come to an end, at least for a while as he’d open up about what he had gone through since he last was on Asgard. 

Candles had lit the room, making it comfortable and warm. There were a few candles on their nightstands, others on the shelves nearby and some were levitating midair with the little help of magic. 

Loki had certainly made her feel welcome in their private space again, after she had stayed away for only a few days. As she saw the tea on a tray by the bed, her heart swelled in her chest. It was so sweet of him. 

“You didn’t have to,” She turned to Loki who was right by her side. The joy on her face was irreplaceable to him. 

“But I wanted to,” Loki reassured her.

It had been yet another long day and they couldn’t wait to get wrapped in the blankets and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Despite how scared they both had been when she ended up in the infirmary, the time afterwards had been wonderful. Loki had finally softened up again, at least to her. 

The two of them sat down on the bed with warm teacups in their hands. For a while, they embraced the silence that settled around them. It was nice. 

“You know,” Y/N was the first one to speak, “I’m having a great time, but I was wondering if you’d like that. It’s okay if you don’t.”

“I suppose now is a good time,” Loki’s reply surprised her.

She put her nearly empty cup away as Loki magicked his on the nightstand. The mood shifted slightly, but it was less dramatic than anything that they had went though in the past few weeks. They sat on the bed in a way they could face each other and they were still cosy. 

“Where do I even begin?” Loki laughed, but he didn’t sound full of joy. He was genuinely nervous. No one had ever heard this story. No one knew. 

Y/N put her hand on his shoulder, attempting to make him relax as much as he possibly could. She sensed that whatever it was that he was going to say, it would be extremely difficult for him. “Were you alone?” She asked him, initiating the conversation. By now, even her heart was racing in her chest. The thought of him being all alone for so long made her sad. She hoped he had good company at least.

Although he sat safely on his bed, Loki could feel the vastness of space around him. He could see the darkness and the stars that were so incredibly far away. There was nothing but stone beneath his feet and he was cold, inside out. 

“I was found by a titan, who calls himself Thanos,” Saying his name felt wrong. It was like fire burning on his tongue. “For a while, I was trapped with him. Wherever he went, I did too. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. He couldn’t look her in the eye. It almost seemed like he was mentally in an entirely different place. Seeing him like that was so unusual for her, and it made her feel terrible. 

She put her hand on his arm, running her fingers up and down his skin every so softly, to remind him that she was right by his side.

“When he found me, I was weak. I tried to put up a fight, and he saw what I was capable of. When his puppets showed up, I was outnumbered,” Loki felt ashamed that he hadn’t been able to fight them off. They were more powerful than he liked to admit. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” She reassured him as she recognized the hint of guilt and shame on his face. Loki had been weak when he fell. Most would’ve died after being sucked up by the portal and being thrown out into the emptiness of outer space. The energy was so strong it could end someone’s life in seconds. It was a miracle he survived that alone.

“Thanos wanted me to work for him, to do his dirty work. I refused,” He smiled but it was an empty smile, “which resulted in months of torture.” His smile vanished completely, leaving behind only a shadow of misery. 

Although she had expected something awful, she hadn’t thought she’d hear that. Suddenly, it made sense why he had been like that when he returned. Why it looked like he hadn’t slept in months, why he was afraid to put pressure on his other leg almost like he was in pain. Why he had shut everyone out completely and distanced himself physically and emotionally. 

Y/N wanted to say something, but it felt like she had eaten flour. Her mouth was dry and she was speechless. Instead, she pulled him closer ever so slightly, hoping to comfort him with her actions. 

Loki let himself be embraced by her. In fact, when she wrapped her arms around his body and his face nuzzled the crook of her neck, which made it so easy to inhale her sweet scent, he realized how much he needed it. Loki thought he would have spoken more without getting so emotional, but to even think about the pain he had endured was hard. It made him cold to his core and he felt nauseous all over again. When he hugged her back and let himself get lost in her arms, he could begin to heal. 

“I don’t think...I would’ve survived if I hadn’t thought of you,” He said so softly he wasn’t sure if she heard him.

She did.

Picturing Loki being tortured by a titan made Y/N so angry. She hated the fact that someone had made him feel so terrible, forcing him to feel so much pain after everything that he had gone through. Hearing that he thought of her when he was going through it all broke her heart. If only she had been there, right by his side. 

“You didn’t deserve that, Loki,” She was surprised she was able to speak. Her lips were quivering as she tried to stay strong for his sake. 

Her words were warm. They pushed the cold he was surrounded by away. Perhaps she was right?

Loki pulled back ever so slightly, because he wanted to face her. When he did, he was surprised to see that she was holding back tears. He already had silent tears on his skin that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. What had he done to deserve her?

“I agreed to work for him,” He revealed, skipping ahead of time because there was no way he could’ve gone into details about the nightmare Thanos put him through. Most of the memories were dark, just barely there. It was like his mind didn’t want to remember the tiny details. 

“I saw places I didn’t know existed - far beyond the nine realms. I became friends with Nebula. She was Thanos’ daughter,” Loki wasn’t sure if they were quite friends, but she seemed to understand him despite her harsh words and mean attitude. Out of all the children, only Nebula had been someone Loki could tolerate. “We were supposed to find something. I suppose they were called the infinity stones.”

Y/N could’ve sworn she had heard someone mentioning them before, but it didn’t ring any bells now. It did make her curious. Why wouldn’t Thanos go seek them himself? “Did you find them?”

“Well, soft of, yes. Thanos sent me to Midgard to fetch the tesseract. In exchange I was going to be freed,” He explained why he had gone to New York. It had been quite recent, but it felt like so long ago. Loki had been so scared but incredibly determined to get the job done too. He thought it was the only way he’d ever get to see her again, and live a day without excruciating suffering. 

Y/N suddenly understood more than before. He hadn’t wanted to go to Earth out of his own will. He was on a mission to win his freedom. She wondered what had happened. Thanos didn’t have the tesseract, but Loki was right there by her side. Did it mean he was safe and free?

“I’m happy you’re here,” She let him know. Having Loki back was the greatest gift she could’ve ever asked for. Although the things that had happened on Midgard weren’t good, she wasn’t mad. She was more furious over the fact that Thor, and others who had done much worse things, pretended that Loki was some kind of villain and they were the heroes.

“I was so scared that Thanos would come here,” and I still am, he thought but left it out. “I failed to deliver the tesseract,Y/N. They…”Loki couldn’t say it. He blinked, and remembered the Other who had threatened him repeatedly. 

...If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can not find you. He will make you long for something sweet as pain… 

“You don’t have to say it,” Y/N noticed that he got lost in his memories again. She understood if some of them were too hard to speak of now. He had said so much already. It couldn’t have been easy for him. “You’re safe, you’re here with us again. We have all the time in the world to speak of this, one step at the time.”

Gosh, her words were keeping him sane. Loki was able to take a deep breath as he heard that, keeping himself grounded there. He wasn’t with Thanos, and he certainly wasn’t being harmed. He was in the arms of his wife and they were in the palace of Asgard with numerous guards and warriors outside their door. It was quite the resistance if Thanos or his children would show up.

“I think I’ll have to continue tomorrow, dear.”

“That’s okay, Loki. I understand,” She was so understanding.

As Loki looked at her, the daggers in his heart twisted. Thanos knew that she existed. Thanos also knew how to torture others, and the worst torture Loki could’ve possibly imagined was that Thanos would find her. There was no way he could ever let that happen. Loki knew he had to do something to get Thanos off his tracks. Could he make the titan believe he had died? It was something he had to think of sooner than later.

“I love you,” Loki had to voice his feelings. He caught her by surprise when he leaned in for a kiss, but she didn’t seem to mind it. Instead, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. This time it was sweet and tender. His hands cupped her face and the back of her head and it was sincere. The kiss was bittersweet. It tasted salty like their tears, but it was so passionate. They truly loved one another. 

When their lips parted, they stayed close. Their foreheads touched gently and they both closed their eyes, enjoying each other’s presences for a moment. They let reality sink in.

For the first time in months, Loki felt more like himself again. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was beginning to deal with his issues. There was hope for the future. 

“I love you too,” Y/N exclaimed after a while. She placed a sweet kiss on Loki’s neck, then another. There were so many kisses they had to catch up with. She wanted to touch him with love and kindness where others had hurt him, until there wasn’t a trace left of the others. 

And Loki wanted to be pampered by her, to get lost in her and forget about all the rest. 

His hands travelled down her side, slowly but surely making their way to her hips. Loki wanted her closer, but for the first time in so long, he didn’t know how to ask her. Usually, it was so easy to pull her in and take her, but not now. Everything felt so much more intimate and he felt slightly lost. It had been so long since the last time they had made love. 

She felt the way he touched her, so needy, silently asking her to get closer, so she did. Carefully, she straddled his lap which made it so much easier for her to hold him, to touch him and to kiss him. Loki’s hands never left her body as she sat on his lap. There was no rush whatsoever. They wanted to enjoy every little moment they could share. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Y/N wondered. After all, he had talked about quite heavy things. Was he in the right mindset? 

Loki almost yelled out how much he desired her, but managed to contain himself. “I need you, Y/N.” He needed to feel her, he needed to make her feel his love. He needed to be one with her. 

“Okay,” She quickly replied with a small smile. Once again, their lips met in a loving kiss. It felt wonderful. Between the kisses, she made sure to tell him sweet little nothings, “I’m here,” “I got you,” “Everything’s going to be okay.”

A/N: I hope you liked it! I originally planned on having fluffy smut in this, but it would’ve been so long. I’ll have to write sweet Loki smut separately in the future. Please leave your feedback. It always makes me so happy and it means a lot to me. Thank you!

Forever Taglist:  @iraniq  @embrycallsgirl  @blackroseyaz @badass-psycho  @r-alexandra01 @p3aches13  @your-pixels-are-showing @disasterren @iamsuperjenna  @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @optimisticpeacecollector5 @thehumanistsdiary @your-pixels-are-showing

Loki taglist: @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @castiels-majestic-wings @lucywrites02​

[yandere-sins]

Glad to see you back! Could I ask for 41 from the prompt list with Kitsune Dabi. It just reminds me of that ninetales myth from pokemon mystery dungeon about their tails bringing calamity if someone touches them.

Oooh, yes, I remember that! Ah, how nostalgic, Ninetales is also my favorite Pokémon lol! Thank you for requesting it, hope you enjoy! :D

“Yes, you can touch them.”

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««   

Curiosity might have killed the cat, but you were so sure that you weren’t the cat in this scenario. Neither was he, you had to admit, his traits way more fox than cat. The softness of his tails shone in the sweet grace of the moonlight, the black and red fur so prominent and visually appealing, it was like an invite to come and take a nap. Safe and comfortable in the tender feeling of those enormous tails.

Damn, you were so exhausted.

As long as you had been running, you hadn’t noticed it, but now that you came to a standstill, it was almost like your body demanded compensation for its work in the form of sleep, food, and water. Anything really, to keep you on your two legs, which were shivering enough to break down beneath you any second now.

“Tired?” he - the creature, the presence, the whatever he was - asked, grinning knowingly. “I’m not surprised; you ran quite a few circles through the forest before coming here.”

“Is... Is this...” you looked around you, the clearing so peaceful and serene, it was hard to imagine that just a bit of time ago, you had been amidst screams and terror as your village burned to the ground in the middle of the night. “Am I dead?”

“Dead?” he scoffed, laughing lightly. “Why? You feel like you are?”

Looking down at yourself, you inspected your hands, black from the ash. There were little cuts on your palms, up to your arms from where you got stuck to burning buildings and falling debris. “N-No, but everyone else... they... I... There was nothing I could...”

The blame was enough for tears to form in your eyes, heavy and hot, and you knew he was right, you weren’t dead at all. “I couldn’t help them at all,” you sobbed, ignoring the smearing feeling of your hands on your face, as you covered your eyes in shame. Slowly sinking into you, you sat down on the grass ground, wrapping your arms around your legs to give you some kind of comfort as you cried into what was left of the ruined clothes you were wearing. They had been so beautiful, so delicate, made just for you and your wedding that should have taken place instead of that awful disaster back home.

Perhaps you should have been more worried about who you were talking too, but you couldn’t bear to care at that moment. In a matter of hours, you had lost everything, even though it should have been the happiest day in your life. Sure, you didn’t know the groom you were supposed to be married too, but for your family and your village, you had been glad to overcome your initial fear, especially knowing he had picked you out of all the other marriage candidates that lived in the nearest villages and cities, and even from your own town.

It was only when you felt a soft touch, incredible to the feel, against your cheek, that you looked up on your own, seeing the tail dance just next to you, at least, one of them. You were so tempted to reach out, rub your face on it more, the softness and warmth bringing comfort that you sought out so desperately. But still, you hesitated, lowering the hands you wanted to reach out to it and digging them into your shins again.

The irritated click of a tongue did finally reach your ear, and you looked up in front of you again, helplessly brushing away the tears to see less in a less blurry vision. When he moved, he did so graciously, just like you expected from a fox spirit. The tails separated, giving him the freedom to move without them in the way, revealing his oddly colored and seemingly imperfect skin. But who were you to judge? You probably didn’t look much better.

“Crying? Really? On our wedding day?”

It didn’t take him many steps to approach, long fingers with sharp nails brushing under your chin, threatening, yet not painful. He lifted your chin, far more than you could in your current position, urging you to stand up on your knees as he wouldn’t stop the pressure under your jaw. “And here I thought I chose a ‘bride’ a bit more resolute than the others.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you had to admit, having to grab his wrist by now as his fingers laid around your jaw, pulling you up into a stand by the underside of your mouth alone. “There isn’t much to understand about, little Human.”

The tails behind him moved as if they had free reign to do what they wanted. One wrapped around your left shin, its tip tickling the sensitive skin of your feet. Another two laid themselves around your hips, giving you some cover and also warmth, while another slung itself around your right wrist multiple times, giving you the feeling of being held and restrained by it. “Do you like them?” he asked, the gleam in his eyes almost akin to fondness.

“Everyone loves them. You can touch them if you want.”

Another tip appeared right before your eyes, wiggling temptingly. You couldn’t deny the mighty need to touch it, cuddle it to yourself in an attempt to get more comfort. But at the same time, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were forgetting something. “N-No, I shouldn’t...” you eventually muttered, trying to find some eye contact with him, but you found yourself stared down by the cold, icy circles in his eyes, making it incredibly hard to look directly into them.

“Yes. Yes, you can touch them. I’m being nice, don’t leave me hanging.”

“No, I don’t want to...”

“Do it.”

Silence, neither of you moved.

“Just fucking do it!”

Baring his teeth, you couldn’t help but jump from the sight of the sharp canine ones he showed. It made sense to you that they were there, but the sight, almost as shiny as they tails, made you realize how real they were. Real and sharp.

He reached for your free hand himself, wrapping his fingers around the wrist as he pulled it forward to his tail. Though you reacted quickly, balling your hand into a fist, causing the tails wrapped around you to stir in anger, tightening ever so slightly. “Why are you being so damn difficult?!” he barked, pulling at your arm roughly again and again.

“They promised you to me! They sold you out, you know that?! Couldn’t fulfill their debts to my clan for months now, so they promised me one of their own!”

“Wh-What?! No! I was promised to some man from another village! I was chosen from many!” you screamed at him, in pain, but your adrenaline skyrocketed.

“It’s not my fault when they told you that,” he growled back. “But it’s time to keep your end of the bargain! Your parents thought they were very clever, sending us a decoy and trying to get you away before we would find out, but I’m not that stupid.”

“You mean...” Your resistance weakened as your memories flooded back. You could clearly remember sending off your sibling, who was smiling and crying tears of joy. It was true that they always had been a sickly child, so hearing someone wanted to marry them was a surprise, yet the greatest joy you could have experienced in a long time. And on the same day as you even! You two would have become the happiest people on earth at the same time.

The tears flooded back, as you couldn’t help but think of what might have happened to them. The pain that you felt was instant, like a cold dagger in your chest, yet stinging in your whole body. “Are they...? Too...?”

The smile curling on his lips was a one-of-a-kind one, mischievous, yet, a poker face like you had never seen one. “Maybe,” he hummed, shrugging lightly. “Maybe not,” he added, grinning only wider with the spark of hope in your eyes. “They could be very much alive, and I could lead you to them. But you need to accept what you are first.”

Pulling on your arm again, you flinched over the strength he used to wrap around your wrist. You knew what he wanted. Knew what he was trying to make you do. Whatever plans he had with you, he needed you to touch his tails out of your own free will. Agree to the marriage put upon you two. Become his.

There were a million reasons not to, alone because you couldn’t know if your sibling even was still alive. But if they were, they were all that’s left from your family, all you had left on earth even. “The longer you wait, the more likely it will be that they are roasting over a campfire, you know.”

It was a taunt, a challenge even. But the way he was, you could only imagine how the other creatures in his clan behaved. Slowly, almost painfully, you opened your hand, revealing your palm. Noticing your cooperation, he finally let go of you, blood pumping through your wrist noticeably from being cut off by his strength before.

Carefully, you settled down into the fur, the tail bumping back into you, letting itself be gripped and held like an affectionate animal. It felt exactly like you imagined it, just as comforting as you hoped it would from all the other touches you had experienced. “Good,” he hummed, and you felt the tails around your body tug you forwards, closer to him until he could put his arms around you in an almost loving embrace.

“You decided right. I promise that our marriage will never be boring as long as you live. Otherwise, I’ll just burn down another village for you. Wouldn’t that be fun, Darling.”

Curiosity might not have killed the cat, but you knew it was on you to keep this maniac of a husband from killing more humans. And all you could think of as he gave you a kiss so bitter, tasting like smoke itself before he left the nibbling sensation of teeth on your lower lip, was that you hoped your sacrifice would be enough to keep your sibling alive at least.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 11 - What If This Is All The Love You’ll Ever Get?

Masterlist; Chapter 10

Summary: The brief peace you experience does not last long. And this time the consquences cannot be ignored.

Warnings: Swearing; it gets quite angsty with some mentions of loss, excessive drinking and such... (I’m sorry)

Author’s Notes: Right so... this is post-Kiev, before Mumbai film-wise. It gets intense for which I’m sorry (trust me this wasn’t fun to write). I hope you enjoy nonetheless and please let me know what you think! Feedback makes my days so much better <3

It turned out that if you and Neil were forced to cooperate (long-distantly yet still), it could work out pretty well. Kiev was a success, to put it simply. Yes, the opera house got partially blown up, and TP’s initial operation became a ‘massive fuck-up’ (as Neil put it), but the boss himself made it. You have been assured about that by some remote Tenet connections you did not even know they had. Now it was their time to step into the game. So you waited patiently for Neil’s return while keeping yourself occupied with other random small tasks for the organization. You went back to texting him rather frequently as well, having decided that friends are allowed to have little chats like that. Also, because you could not deny yourself that guilty pleasure…

He came back just as it was planned, four days after your awkward goodbye (which still haunted you at night). It was late in the evening, and you were finishing a report needed for the morning when you heard a knock on the door.

“Hey you” Neil smiled when you opened the door.

You eyed him quickly, noticing the wrinkles on his clothes, ruffled hair, and tired eyes. It became pretty obvious he came to see you straight after coming back. And that idea made you feel… strange.

“Hey” you smiled back and left the ajar for him “When did you come back?” you watched him sit down on the bed and stretch his arms elegantly.

You could not hide the small smile that showed on your face at the sight. He met your gaze with a little grin of his own before answering:

“Just arrived back from the airport. Left stuff in my room, and here I am” he opened his arms to emphasise the point, and you laughed.

“I can see that. Aren’t you tired though?” once again, you warily searched his face.

But apart from being shocked at how beautiful he was, you got nothing concrete.

“I’d rather talk to you than sleep” he shrugged as though it was obvious. You blushed and looked down at your lap before closing the documents. The report would have to wait.

“How was the mission?” you turned back to him and watched, mesmerised, as he rolled up the sleeves and leaned back on his forearms.

Having Neil chill on your bed was certainly not an image you expected to see this evening.

“Well, you were there in spirit, so you probably know” he grinned “But if you want details…” he trailed off to gather his thoughts, “It was surprisingly easy to enter despite the ongoing siege with two different groups fighting inside. Then all I had to do was wait and try not to draw attention to myself”

“Where did you wait in the end?”

You have discussed the different options he had a day before the attack.

“A lovely storage room backstage” his eyes sparked “Would’ve been more fun if you were there with me” he smirked.

So nothing’s changed then.

“Did you find TP with no problems?” your swift change of topic did not go unnoticed.

But this time, he obeyed.

“Once shit started going off, I went back into the concert hall, and there he was. Trying to save all those civilians from being blown to pieces” Neil looked pensive for a moment “But then just as I thought that I would not be needed there, I saw movement near him. Someone has shot an inverted round there” he met your gaze “So I collected the bullet, making sure it went through whoever that was threatening TP and left just as quickly” he took off the shoes and went back to relaxing on your bed.

“He noticed you?”

“Probably yeah. But to him, I was just a handy help in a rather messy situation” he smiled “Enough about that. How have you been?” this time it was his turn to search your face.

You wondered what he found there.

“Alright, I guess” you smile lightly “When I wasn’t busy helping you, I was mostly working on some boring reports”

“Sounds fascinating” he grinned “Anything fun happened while I was away?” now he was lying on his side with head propped on the elbow.

For a second, you thought about the fact that your pillow might smell like him over night.

“Apart from Anna nearly slamming the door in my face yesterday… not really” you frowned at the memory.

“What?!” Neil’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yeah, well… think she just didn’t see me following her through the door, but I almost ended up with a concussion”

“That doesn’t sound like her but, then…” it was Neil’s turn to frown.

“After everything, I wouldn’t be surprised” you murmured and met his gaze with a weary smile.

You probably had to get used to the rush of butterflies you felt every time your eyes met. He stared at you with an inquisitive look. You were acutely aware that you were both probably recollecting the events from a few days ago. To stop the flood of images from making you do something stupid, you got up:

“Do you want a tea?” you busily stared at the kettle.

“Yeah sure” you could hear the self-satisfaction in his voice.

While you got busy with preparing two cups of tea, you could feel his eyes on you. Then a text alert broke the silence that fell. You turned to see him type an answer. For an absolutely unknown reason, you wanted to know who was messaging him. And why. But instead, you had to try not to pour boiling water all over your hand. At which you failed.

“Fuck” you hissed on reflex and hoped he has not noticed.

But nothing seemed to go past those deep blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” he sat up and watched you from across the room.

“Yeah, just clumsy as fuck” once the tea was brewing, you could assess the damage.

Apart from a little sore skin, you should live. When you turned to give Neil his mug, you were faced with a very smug grin.

“Don’t tell me you got jealous over a text from TP” he pushed his phone into your hands.

You stared blankly at the recent texts. The last one was his response to The Protagonist. One before that was to you. And nothing more remarkable after that. You felt very stupid. But thankfully, Neil was done with taunting. At least for the moment.

“It’s okay” he took his phone back and then gently cradled your hurt hand “Swear I won’t mention this again”

“If you will, I’ll shoot you” you glared at him, trying to ignore the waves of shame threatening to spill from your system.

“Now that’s quite dramatic, don’t you think?” he looked up at you and grinned.

Then he kissed your knuckles and released his hold on your hand. You were finally free, and you were not going to waste that.

“I’ll… I’ve got to go the bathroom for a sec… sorry” you bolted to the door with newly found energy.

Just before you locked the door, you heard him say:

“I’ve missed you”

Fuck. You pressed your back against the closed door and took a deep breath. The sting of the burn was nearly gone, but the shame burned just as strongly through your body. Now you understood why Jasper called you pathetic. That was probably the best adjective to describe your behaviour. Slowly, you calmed down the racing heart and opted to take off make-up as a relaxing task. It worked, and soon you also decided to change into some nightclothes. It was late, and it was safe to assume that Neil would leave for the night in the not too far future. Finally, you took long fifteen minutes to coach yourself to go back out into the room. It was a rather difficult task as you had enough humiliation for the day. But at the same time, you wanted to spend as much time as you could with him. 

Was addiction to Neil a thing? Because you might have just diagnosed yourself with it, you mused while exiting the bathroom. Outside, you were faced with a surprising yet adorable sight of the man himself curled up on your bed and snoring. His face was relaxed with no frown lines visible, and the abandoned mug of tea steamed on the bedside table. You noticed that he took your blanket and covered himself with it. You could not stop the smile that showed on your face when you took in the image. However, that also left you with a rather difficult decision… He certainly left enough space for you on the bedside facing the wall. But also, that was a bit risky… was it not? You contemplated taking a spare pillow and nodding off on the floor. But as soon as that thought entered your mind, the pathetic side decided to object. Friends are allowed to share a bed right? You sighed, switched off the lights, and carefully stepped over Neil’s form to lie down. You made sure to leave all the space you could before you turned to the wall and let the tiredness take you. As a parting thought, you realised that his presence next to you felt right somehow.

*** Waking up to the sound of your alarm was a harsh experience. Unconsciously, you reached out to turn off the brutal device and sighed with happiness when you succeeded. Only then, your brain began to catch up with reality. And especially with the fact that there was an arm draped over your stomach, with fingers touching the bare skin where your top rode up. The alarm has woken him too as you felt him hug you closer to his chest. You felt a warm breath on the back of your neck.

“I could get used to waking up like this” you shivered at the way his voice reverberated through your chest.

Before you could react, he pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck and followed it with a trail of pecks down your spine, as far as your shirt allowed. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to level breathing. His fingers softly caressing the strip of skin just above the hemline of your trousers made your brain short-circuit. It was all too much. You had to move, or else you could not be responsible for anything that would happen.

Quickly you turned in the embrace to face him. The closeness made your breath hitch. Neil stared at you with a small smile on his lips. You knew that the innocence was nothing but a façade. You had to distract yourself and him, so you scrambled for anything to say. Glancing down at his shirt collar, you found the words:

“Maybe you should stop falling asleep in suits” you aimed for a neutral tone, but the moment his eyes lit up, you knew it was pointless.

“If you wanted me to undress, all you had to do was ask” he smirked when seeing your mild panic.

Bloody fantastic.

He was still too close. And the way he glanced down at your lips for a split second did not help the situation either.

“Right… I’ve had that alarm set for a reason” you rushed to get up and climb over him.

But naturally, Neil had other ideas. When you leaned over him to push yourself up, he took your hands in his, forcing you to lie partially on top of him. You stared in shock, suddenly overwhelmed by the situation. His blue eyes stared back at you with that unreadable expression you have seen before. You took the time to look at him, his wild bed hair and two-day stubble on the chin.

If you were allowed, you could get used to this…

“Is this one of those moments when I should be the voice of reason?” when you found your voice again, it was weirdly hoarse.

“Maybe…” he grinned and squeezed your hands “How’s your burn?”

Only now you actually remembered about your embarrassing moment from the previous night. At the reminder, you felt your face grow warm. The moment was gone.

“It’s fine” you muttered and moved to get up.

This time he let you go, but you were sure you saw a brief look of disappointment on his face.

“What is your plan for today?” he asked while reaching for yesterday’s tea.

You frowned at that.

“Sure you don’t want a new one?” you gestured towards the mug.

“Nah, don’t want your martyrdom to go wasted” he winked and finished the cold drink.

“You really want to get shot, my dear” you mused while eyeing him sharply.

“My dear?” he sat up and looked at you with one eyebrow arched curiously.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. It was so much easier to talk with him like that when you had a little bit of space preserved.

“You don’t have a monopoly on nicknames”

“Of course not” Neil got up and folded the blanket he used “But it’s nice to hear that you consider me ‘yours’ in any way, my dear” he winked and crossed the room “I’ll see you around later” he kissed you on the cheek and was gone before you could process anything.

In the end, you never got to tell him what your plan for the day was.

*** The next three days went in relative peace. You started to build a pleasant routine in the organization, and ever since he was back, you could incorporate time spent with Neil into it. Every morning you would attend a sparring session (with Ives or whoever was handy), then a shooting training to keep yourself in shape. After that, meetings and missions briefings where you would help with the logistical side of the operations. In the evening, you ate dinner with Neil in the dining hall. Undoubtedly that was a highlight of the day for you when you could use the hour and a half window to get to know him better. Apart from that first blunder in your attempts at friendship-like behaviour, it all went rather smoothly. Neil did his best to cooperate. The only times when he was proving to be difficult were the goodbyes during which he made it his goal to make you flustered. The kisses on the cheek became a routine thing. And so did his tendency to gaze into your eyes for extended periods of time. You did not mind either of those things.

The lack of concrete news about the unfolding plan sometimes made you almost forget about it. But you did not dare relax, remembering TPs words about the upcoming events. And so, you waited patiently, preparing in any way you could think of.

The fragile peace got disrupted during one of your evening meals. You were mid-conversation concerning Neil’s past experiences in the Navy when Ives approached your table:

“Evening lovebirds” you grudgingly accepted the nickname he chose for you both.

“What is it?” Neil instantly sensed trouble, judging by the frown that showed on his face.

“TP is calling us to the US. Urgently” Ives looked at you apologetically “Just me and Neil, sorry love”

“That’s okay” you met Neil’s gaze over the table “You two are more crucial to the whole organization than I am” you shrugged.

Neil looked as though he wanted to argue but chose not to. Luckily.

“When do we have to leave?” he asked Ives.

“Ideally in an hour”

“Shit” he took a moment to gather his thoughts “Okay, I’ll meet you in the reception in 45mins”

Ives only nodded and left without a further word. You stared at Neil, who eyed his half-full plate mournfully.

“At least you’ll get some nice food on the plane” you offered upon seeing his internal debate.

“But the company won’t be as good” he looked up and smiled sadly.

“That’s quite harsh on Ives” you joked, trying to ignore the inexplicable sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Neil laughed, but you could tell that he was worried too. Using the only way you knew to assure him, you reached out across the table and squeezed his hand.

“You should pack” you brushed your thumb over his knuckles “I’ll see you when you’re back”.

He entwined his fingers with yours and met your gaze for a moment. You could see that he was hesitant, as though he wanted to say something you would not like. Then he made up his mind because he released his hold over your hand and got up to stand next to you.

“I’ll miss you” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Before you could answer, he left the hall. You took a deep breath, aware of the strange feeling creeping into your brain. Hopefully, it is nothing but anxiety, you sighed and went back to eating, acutely aware of the loneliness.

*** The peace you got when Neil and Ives left lasted for about twelve hours. A good night text from Neil calmed your nerves slightly as it meant he made it safely to the HQs. You tried to get an early night, but it did not happen. Instead, you spent three hours staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying to convince your stubborn brain that it worried for nothing. After all, urgent missions happened all the time, right? Well, your logic was desperately trying not to fail while faced with an irrational voice that never seemed to shut up. In the end, you resorted to taking a sleeping pill and hoping to catch at least 5 hours long nap.

That plan was cut short by a sharp ringing at 7 am coming from your phone resting on the bedside table. You looked at the display to see Ives as the caller ID. This could not be good. A sudden shock made you sit up and pick up the phone despite being barely able to open your eyes.

“Yes?” you cleared your throat when you heard your raspy voice.

“Y/N…” you have never heard Ives’ use your first name.

Fuck… The world went black for a millisecond. You felt lightheaded. Something was terribly wrong.

“What’s going on?” panic was creeping into your voice.

“Neil… he found TP in his room…” his voice was breaking “He’s gone” you heard him take in a shaky breath “TP is gone”

Your heart skipped a beat. Your vision blurred as you reached out to touch the wall to feel something steady beneath your fingertips. For a short second, you forgot how to breathe. Then as you started to struggle for the oxygen, you took greedy breaths, hoping to calm down. It was not working.

“Are you there?” Ives’ panicked voice broke through the paralysis.

“How did it happen?” you choked out the question, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“He…” Ives stifled a sob “He took a cyanide pill”

You could not stop the sobs that came then. Only after you could take in a full breath, you spoke again.

“Why?”

“No one knows. He saw Neil and me when we arrived. Then I went to sleep, and Neil woke me up” you could hear the strain in his voice.

“How’s he?” you feared the answer to the question.

Somehow you knew there was a reason why it was not him calling you. But the explanation for that was too terrifying to be admitted aloud.

“Bad” the grave tone made you panic again.

“Fuck” you inhaled sharply.

“You should come via the next plane. He has to be in Mumbai by the twentieth, and I don’t think we can sort him out without you”

You winced at the serious tone.

“Okay, I’ll try to get there as soon as I can” you bolted up from the bed “Please try to look after him” you hated the pleading tone.

“I’ll try though it’s hard to do when he’s locked himself in his room and isn’t letting anyone in”

Shit. The dizziness returned, and you leaned on the wall for support. To say that you were worried would be an understatement. Everyone knew how much Neil cared about TP. The helplessness was frustrating. You wanted to scream and let it out.

“Just do what you can” you sighed “Stay strong, Ives”

“Don’t hang up yet”

“Why, what’s wrong?” his sudden change of tone made you even more concerned.

“Nothing, it’s just that I think you should know about something… about Neil”

“Yes?”

“He should be the one telling you but fuck that” he sounded hesitant.

“Ives” the agitation won over any other emotion “Please”

“Neil lost someone very important to him nearly two years ago during a mission. It was an accident, but Neil blames himself for what happened as he was leading the attack”

“Okay…” you needed a moment to process the information.

“I just wanted you to know in case it mattered”

“Thank you… What was their name?” that was the only question you could think of.

“Alex. He was an agent and joined Tenet at the same time Neil did. They were together”

The only immediate thought was that you wished you knew before. Maybe then you could have been a better friend. However, Ives’ took your silence as something else.

“Is that okay?” he sounded genuinely worried.

“Of course, I don’t care who he was with. Only that he’s hurting right now” you glanced at the watch “I should start packing. I’ll see you soon, I hope” you hung up.

You tried your hardest not to breakdown while throwing random clothing articles into the bag. You tried calling Neil, but he has not picked up. You just sent him a message:

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to get there soon”.

There was not much else you could do. Apart from trying to preserve sanity.

*** The plane journey to Boston was a blurry memory. You spent the 8 hours trying not to cry publicly and ignoring the temptation to get drunk to numb the pain and worry. Once you landed, the anxiety got worse. With shaking hands, you went through the customs and into the arrivals hall. All the while, you tried not to think too much about the last time you visited the airport and about Neil’s steady hand guiding you. He still has not responded to your text, and that made you think about the worst. You calmed down your anxious stomach just enough to get into the car sent by the HQ and relaxed into the leather seat. Just twenty minutes now.

But before you could reach any mental clarity, your phone buzzed. You took it out of the pocket and nearly dropped it onto the car floor upon seeing the text. It was from TP. You gasped and unlocked the device to read it.

“When this reaches you, you most likely know what happened. I’m sorry, but there was no other way. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t know that you, Neil, and the rest are ready. I trust you, Y/N, and that’s why I have decided to make you responsible for the logistical side of the plan. Once you’re ready, materials are waiting for you in the inbox. Please take care. I know I don’t have to ask you to help Neil but make sure he doesn’t blame himself”

It was clear that he scheduled the messaged to come through after he was gone. And you had a feeling it was only the first one of many. You only had time to wipe the tears from your eyes before the car parked in front of the Tenet building, and you were forced to get out. Once you got through the security booth, you spotted Ives waiting in the reception hall. He had his head bowed, staring at the floor. None of his usual confidence was there. Once you approached, he sensed company and looked up. You were struck by the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Hey” suddenly you did not know what to say.

“Thank god you’re here” Ives shook off the hesitation and hugged you tightly.

You returned the embrace, feeling tears well up again. You stepped back and sniffed, accepting the offered tissues. Only now you noticed how quiet and empty it was in the building despite the hour.

“How is the situation?” you did not even know how to ask any specific questions.

“Very bad” Ives frowned, and you felt like he was holding back.

“Take me to him, please” you shivered involuntarily.

He did not need more convincing and started leading you through the corridors.

“He hasn’t left the room since midnight when I last saw him” Ives started speaking, “I’m pretty sure he’s drinking” he stopped in front of a regular door in yet another corridor.

“Right… Has he let anyone in?” you strained to hear any potential sounds from within, but there was nothing.

“No” Ives shook his head.

You could tell that he was incredibly tired and worried. You had to be the strong one this time.

“Why do you think I’ll be different?”

You placed one shaky hand on the surface of the door.

“Because it’s you” you could tell he was barely restraining the urge to roll his eyes “You’re probably the only person he cares about”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you felt your face grow warm. You took a deep breath to calm down and raised a fist to rap on the door. At first, there was nothing. The panic kept rising.

“Neil, it’s me” you leaned your head against the door “I’m sorry…” with tears streaming down your cheeks, you tried to find the right words “Please let me in. I just want to see you…” you glanced at Ives who looked almost uncomfortable.

Suddenly you heard faint sounds coming from the room. Rustling, the unmistakable clang of an empty glass bottle hitting the floor and the footsteps stopping just by the door.

“Please go” you mouthed at Ives, who only nodded and rushed down the corridor.

You took a step back and waited, with the heart in your throat. After agonising few seconds, the lock clicked, and the door opened. Nothing prepared you for the sight you saw.

Neil’s hair was sticking out in every direction. His eyes were red-rimmed and paired with dark shadows underneath. He still wore the clothes you saw him in the day before. But probably the worst was how obviously drunk he was, barely able to stay upright by the door. When his unfocused eyes landed on you, he attempted a smile. It ended up looking like a tragic scowl. He opened the door wider for you and went back inside. You took a second to gather your thoughts and followed him, shutting the door behind you.

Once inside, you took the time to scan the room and analyse the situation. Neil sat down on the edge of the bed, which was entirely unmade. The floor was covered in random bits of paper he must have tossed from the table. You counted at least two empty bottles of alcohol lying amidst the mess as well. Taking a deep breath, you faced Neil. He was looking at you, but his eyes lacked their usual spark.

“I’m sorry” he breathed out, and your eyes widened.

“What for?” you were not expecting that.

“They sent you to get me sorted” you did not like the dark look in his eyes “That can’t be an ideal job. Even for you”

“Neil” the stern tone made him focus on your words “I’m not here because they asked me to come. I’m here for you” you took a step closer and knelt to be levelled with him “I was worried” you admitted finally.

“Fuck… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” his slightly slurred rambling made you even more acutely aware of his state.

“No, don’t apologise” you interrupted him; TP’s text message fresh on your mind “None of this is your fault. And my job here is to make sure you understand that” gently, you reached out to brush the hair away from his eyes.

You did not know whether it was what you said or what you did, but at that moment, he seemed to break. Before you could react, he slid down onto the floor and started crying with heart-wrenching sobs. It took you a second to change position and put your arms around him. He leaned into the embrace.

“He’s gone” he choked out after a few seconds of silence.

“I know” you run a hand along his back in a soothing motion “But you don’t have to tell me more. It’s alright, I’m here” you whispered, feeling him shake.

At that, he just started sobbing more violently. You could only sit there, holding him and letting your own tears fall silently. You will be okay someday. You hoped.

[andolinii]

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

❛   The mind of the subject will desperately struggle to create memories where none exist   ❜ ❛   One goes into an experiment knowing one could fail. But one does not undertake an experiment knowing one has failed.   ❜ ❛   At least that's something we can agree on.   ❜ ❛   It does seem like a dreadful place to be stranded.   ❜ ❛   Heaven, friend. Or as close as we'll see till Judgment Day.   ❜ ❛   I’m afraid of you.   ❜ ❛   We had a deal! Open this door, right now!   ❜ ❛   So you expect me to shoulder the burden?   ❜ ❛   Just 'cause the city flies don't mean it ain't got its share of fools.   ❜ ❛   Heads? Or tails?   ❜ ❛   I told you...I'm not gonna do it! Now go away.   ❜ ❛   I never find that as satisfying as I'd imagined.   ❜ ❛   I guess you're expecting me... Is anyone here? Hello?   ❜ ❛   Why are you following me?   ❜ ❛   Violence is not the answer! Blood must not be shed.   ❜ ❛   Violence is not a foregone conclusion.   ❜ ❛   I see every sin that blackens your soul.   ❜ ❛   Not all debts can be repaid.   ❜ ❛   Chin up. There's always next time.   ❜ ❛   Prophecy is my business, as blood as yours   ❜ ❛   thy crook is bent and thy path is twisted.   ❜ ❛   It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. Just sit down, and everything will be fine.   ❜ ❛   Is this some kind of sales pitch? Because I am not interested.   ❜ ❛   I'm a friend. I've come to get you out of here.   ❜ ❛   I don't dance. C'mon, let's go.   ❜ ❛   This will end in blood. But then again, it always does with you, doesn't it? It always ends in blood.   ❜ ❛   Oh, can you smell that? I've never smelled anything like that before, have you?   ❜ ❛   Give a man a little power, he falls in all kinds of love with himself.   ❜ ❛   Coming here was your idea.   ❜ ❛   that fall into the water did you no favors. I'll keep an eye out for something that might ease your pain.   ❜ ❛   Knock it off! Will you stop it? Will you stop it! I'm not here to hurt you.   ❜ ❛   If you're going to be a sore loser, then I shan't do this again.   ❜ ❛   You're a roguish type, what does it look like?   ❜ ❛   Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt.   ❜ ❛   Where did you learn to pick locks?   ❜ ❛   Whatever that was, it's got nothing to do with the job at hand. This job's getting worse all the time.   ❜ ❛   What interest does a prophet have in a bunch of carnies and carousels?   ❜ ❛   I never even heard of this place before I got here.   ❜ ❛   They frown on gardens in my part of town.   ❜ ❛   I don't really understand what I just saw back there, but it sure as hell looks like a shortcut to getting us killed.   ❜ ❛   You've always been different, haven't you? You crave no glory.   ❜ ❛   You see? You're a killer, like it or not.   ❜ ❛   Now that you're out of yours, you might realize cages have their advantages.   ❜ ❛   I can handle whatever comes along. Trust me.   ❜ ❛   A choice is better than none. No matter what the outcome.   ❜ ❛   What happened back there, that...that's not the last of it, is it?   ❜ ❛   Maybe you're the man I remember, maybe not.   ❜ ❛   There's survival...and then there's finding pleasure in the act.   ❜ ❛   Look, you seem like a decent enough sort. That said, the less you know about me, the better.   ❜ ❛   I'm leaving and there's naught you can do to stop me.   ❜ ❛   Me busting you out, what do you think that was? Charity?   ❜ ❛   I got no quarrel with you.   ❜ ❛   Are you afraid of God?   ❜ ❛   I never claimed to be no hero.   ❜ ❛   There's already a fight. Only question is, which side are you on?❜ ❛   Just hold up for a minute! I'm not angry with you.   ❜ ❛   You killed those people. I can't believe you did that...they're all dead... You killed those people.   ❜ ❛   I have no need for one such as you.   ❜ ❛   Don't get too comfortable with my company. You are a means to an end, no more.   ❜ ❛   You’re either a great hero or the worst of scoundrels, depending on who's doing the telling.   ❜ ❛   I am a believer, but I am not a fool.   ❜ ❛   What is the most admirable creature on God's green earth?   ❜ ❛   Does this strike you as good news? It doesn't strike me as good news.   ❜ ❛   I don't much care for you… but I must admit, you know your way around a brawl.   ❜ ❛   Now, now, All I ask is that you finish what you started.   ❜ ❛   Son, I do say I like the cut of your chin.   ❜ ❛   You know, when your name was first passed to me, I wasn't quite sure you were the man for the job.   ❜ ❛   What could people have done to deserve to be locked up in a place like this?   ❜ ❛   You're a lion. But you can't blame me for looking after my own interests, can you?   ❜ ❛   Lions walk with lions, not hyenas.   ❜ ❛   I killed them. They were dead.   ❜ ❛   You must think me some sort of...freak. I must seem ridiculous. ❜ ❛   Like all bastards, we serve it best by smothering it in its crib.   ❜ ❛   Let me tell you about sin.   ❜ ❛   Are you going to just sit there?   ❜ ❛   the biggest sin of all, the mother of all sins, is that we sit back and take it.   ❜ ❛   In this world, you were a martyr.   ❜ ❛   These folk need a better class of hero.   ❜ ❛   This isn't our responsibility - none of it.   ❜ ❛   Why, that sort of ambition will serve you well.   ❜ ❛   I had a role in this catastrophe, if you want to pretend we're innocents in this, then that's your prerogative.   ❜ ❛   I saw you die. Saw it with my own eyes.   ❜ ❛   I know how this feels. Listen, I think you should talk to me.   ❜ ❛   How do you wash away the things that you've done?   ❜ ❛   Once people get their blood up, it ain't easy to settle it down again.   ❜ ❛   This prophecy business... You don't think anyone can really see the future, do you?   ❜ ❛   These are dire times and I could ever so use your aid.   ❜ ❛   That is an oath you cannot keep.   ❜ ❛   If you were to take me back...that's death. Or something so like it, I cannot tell the difference. ❜ ❛   A mother who abandons their child doesn't draw a lot of sympathy in my book.   ❜ ❛   You just got dealt a bad hand. ❜ ❛   The only difference between past and present is semantics.   ❜ ❛   If we could perceive time as it truly was… what reason would grammar professors have to get out of bed?   ❜ ❛   You couldn't have known this would happen.   ❜ ❛   One doesn't expect a picture of one's corpse to come across so lifelessly.   ❜ ❛   Listen to me. what you've been through… ain't nobody in the world deserves that.   ❜ ❛   We are gettin' outta here, you got it? And you're never gonna have to look back.   ❜ ❛   Child! Child! You are the lie that spewed from my womb. You are the lie, the lie, the lie.   ❜ ❛   Some men dream of money, some men dream of love. My father dreamt of a flood of fire.   ❜ ❛   I can see all that would be, might be and must not be.   ❜ ❛   Child, would you like to pray with me?   ❜ ❛   All I ever wanted is to see you live up to your potential.   ❜ ❛   Humanity wrote a bad check, and the flood was the only way to settle the accounts.   ❜ ❛   You'll need to eat sooner or later. If you hold out, you'll just starve to death.   ❜ ❛   God put his faith in men once, too. It seems that we have something in common: disappointment.   ❜ ❛   Why do you ask ‘what’ when the delicious question is ‘when?’   ❜ ❛   All I can do is watch as what I set in motion slides into its terminal stage.   ❜ ❛   Time rots everything, even hope.   ❜ ❛   We're going to cure you.   ❜ ❛   When the body cries out, the spirit listens.   ❜ ❛   Do you hear that screaming? That is the sound of your interference.   ❜ ❛   Is this where you start moralizing? You forget, I know you.   ❜ ❛   What are you going to do to stop me?❜ ❛   You struggle against prophecy, like a stone loosed from a sling.   ❜ ❛   I don't understand. I heard you screaming, I was… I was coming to get you.   ❜ ❛   Do you think...it's possible to redeem the kind of things that we've done?   ❜ ❛   We're doing this together, or I'm doing it alone. Either way, I need to know the thing's been done.   ❜ ❛   Rejoice! Rejoice! Death has no sting.   ❜ ❛   I may be the one who strikes you down, but you've always had a knack for self-destruction. Who's to say you won't beat me to the punch?   ❜ ❛   Some sins can't be forgiven.❜ ❛   I'm not going to let you kill him.   ❜ ❛   I won't abandon you.   ❜ ❛   You come to wipe your slate clean, but time will walk backwards before you find redemption.  ❜ ❛   Everything I've done...I've done to keep you safe.   ❜ ❛   You killed him. What did he mean? Huh? You tell me, what did he mean?   ❜ ❛   Just drop me off if you want to. This isn't your problem.   ❜ ❛   I'm a fool. I've sent mighty armies to stop you; I've rained fire on you from above.   ❜ ❛   Will you do this for me, just...just this one last thing? Please…   ❜ ❛   You thought the streets were paved with gold, but they were paved with blood, sweat and tears.   ❜ ❛   Look at that. Thousands of doors...opening all at once. My god, they're beautiful.   ❜ ❛   Baptism is the rebirth of the spirit...but sometimes the mind gets in the way.   ❜ ❛   There are a million million worlds. All different and all similar. Constants and variables.   ❜ ❛   We swim in different oceans but land on the same shore.   ❜ ❛   Are you ready to have your past erased? Are you ready to have your sins cleansed? Are you ready to be born again?   ❜ ❛   I can see all the doors, and what's behind all the doors.   ❜ ❛   Hey, the deal is off, you hear me? The deal is off!   ❜ ❛   You think a dunk in the river's gonna change the things that I've done?   ❜ ❛   If I don't get caught, it's going to be a very long time before we see each other.   ❜ ❛   Do you hate your wickedness?   ❜ ❛   Are we worth saving if we will not save ourselves?   ❜

[kojinnie]

Maybe, One Day, We Will | Jean, Sasha & Connie

Summary: Before the defining Raid of Liberio mission, the Survey Corps was instructed to write their wills, and Connie reminisced the night he talked about life after the war with Jean and Sasha when they were younger.

Tags: Canon universe, coming-of-age, light angst, bittersweet.

Set: The night before Battle of Shiganshina District, parallel to Eren-Mikasa-Armin’s talk on the steps.

WC: 3.1K

A/N:  My tribute to the trio that holds a special place in my heart. Consider this my ode to all of us whose heart has been broken by Chapter 138. A slight nod to conversation in Chapter 137 (No spoiler, don’t worry!)

I suppose memory wore off eventually, and if I’d be lucky enough to survive this contemptible war, my only hope is one thing: to never lose the gift of memory over moments I hold dear in my heart. Especially the memory of that one night. The night before Shiganshina.

Connie Springer put down his quill as he marked the end of a sentence. He was quite surprised with how far bolder was this paragraph compared to its precedents, he smiled and remembered one of the things his mum said when he was younger, something about how one’s action is nothing but a mere reflection of one’s feeling, and perhaps Connie took the importance of that paragraph over the others and that’s why he put so much pressure on his quill upon writing that down.

He looked over his shoulder to catch Jean pondering over his paper across the room, looking visibly puzzled on what to write, “Oi Jean, you finished?”

He shook his head, grunting, “This feels so absurd.” The tall man leaned to his desk and dragged his gaze upwards, “To be so young and writing your own will.”

Connie hummed from his desk, affirming Jean’s dismay. The whole predicament the two men find themselves in were indeed absurd, albeit predictable. They both knew that to be immersed in the eyes of war mean bruising with deaths countless times, but with the war advancing at unprecedented rate, the notion of mortality grew even more palpable before the soldiers’ eyes. It was no surprise that at one night after a debriefing with the high-ranking officials, Hange finally caught up with the prospect of dying. The first time they had ever been so sure of death, regardless whether it would be immediate or later in this godforsaken war. The thought led Hange to saying before the rest of the Survey Corps, “Maybe we all should write our wills. To leave something behind, you know? Just in case.” Everyone remembered how the Commander threw a reassuring smile amidst such vivid qualm among them, “What could be more fulfilling than to have our stories and legacy passed down?”

And so there they were that night, all of the Survey Corps, taking their night off to write their will before the D-Day tomorrow: The Ambush of Liberio.

“Jean,” Connie called again. There was only the two of them in the common room, the rest were scattered all over Mitras. Taking their own space to write their own piece of mind before the mission, “do you remember the night before Shiganshina?”

The sounds of scribbling ceased immediately from Jean’s end, as he sighed, almost painfully, “Yeah, of course.” Jean found it eerie that there was a misplaced lightness in Connie’s voice, when his own was drowned in unspoken distress, “What about it?”

“I’m writing about it on my…” there was a hesitation in Connie’s words as his mind finally caught up with how unbecoming his reality was, “…will.”

The man of Ragako continued, “I hope after we’re gone, whoever reads this would know that we were once kids,” Connie’s voice dropped into a heavy murmur, “that had something to live for, yeah?”

Jean nodded his head as he forced a smile, although Connie wouldn’t be able to see as they were sitting opposite each other, “Sounds great. Something to prove that I’m not a suicidal maniac. Do you think Sasha is now writing about it too?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then I’ll write about it too.”

             The noise from the dining hall finally subsided after the soldiers headed back to their quarter. Despite having tonight’s tasty feast and the raucous fun that most of these soldiers were not as privileged to have often, the lingering dread remained visible among them for what awaited them tomorrow. These men and women were to head for battle against creatures they barely understood, and to reclaimed the district that most thought to be unsalvageable with the horde of titans roaming freely within.

There were also murmurs about a menacingly gigantic beast titan, one that had took the handful lives of their comrades. One that had mystical power to summon and control titans all it pleased. One that was so frightening that the brass in the likes of Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman were not at ease to disclose to the rest of the soldiers, leaving them in the dark of what may happen. The murmurs about the beast titan were persistent and these soldiers, no matter how hardened had they grown by deaths and battles all their lives, were all equally afraid.

Among them were three teenagers, barely made it out alive after their last encounter with the seemingly mythical creature. Now bound for yet another mission, they scrambled out of the dining hall. The tallest among them was slightly limping, leaning for support from the two others.

“Guys—” Jean grunted, followed by a disgraceful whimper as another step sent a sharp sting to his stomach, “—thanks for the help but would appreciate if it came sooner.”

They stopped and finally sat around when they found a comfortable spot underneath a building’s canopy, looking over to the city steps that glimmered underneath the full moon’s lights. From afar, they could see Eren, Mikasa and Armin sitting together down the steps, although the Shiganshina trio weren’t aware of their presence.

Jean finally let out an audible groan as he sat on a deserted wooden crate, the two others found comfort on the cold cobblestone.

“As you know, I was in no position to do so.” Sasha shot a jeer at Connie, to which he replied with a remorseful grin, “Sorry Sash, you were acting crazy—”

“—BUT IT’S MEAT! How could you take away my happiness like that, Connie!” the shriek was lunatic indeed and the bald boy just cackled, mouthing yet another apology for tying her up to the pole earlier tonight. Sasha was not amused, obviously, but she eventually caved in as she let out a long, deep sigh, retreating her head to Connie’s shoulder, “Could’ve been my last meat, you know?”

“Nonsense,” Jean snorted, still inspecting his stomach that was bludgeoned by Eren’s fist earlier. He would only finally surrender to the pain where no one would see other than two of his most trusted comrades.

“Yeah, Sasha. Nonsense.” Connie repeated, turning his head to Jean as he sought for reassurance, “We’re gonna survive this one. Right?”

There was a brief silence between them. It was clear that despite their best hope, they were thinking the possibilities of meeting their lethal ends with this mission. The idea of being young had never crossed their minds before – how they should not be thinking of their own death, how they should cast hope for the future – these were some distant ideas that they never got acquainted with. For these young soldiers, there were moments when they passingly imagined of being in their adulthood and what would they do by that time; but to their surprise, along with it often arrived the feeling of remorse, as if their wish to live on were nothing but wishful thinking. They had been conversant with death too early in their lives, and it had become a recurring visitor that they had to greet reluctantly.

“I really hope so…” she mumbled, her eyes gazed afar at the trio down the steps, “Must be hard for them, isn’t it?”

“Them?”

“Yeah,” Sasha raised his head from Connie’s shoulder and scooted over so she could look at both Connie and Jean, “I can’t imagine having to put up with such burden, returning to their decimated district.”

“Poor Armin and… Mikasa. And then there’s that maniac,” Jean scoffed, “he better does his job right. Tch. Such great power on meekly little hands—”

“—Jean,” the interruption was unprecedented as it was stern, Sasha was looking directly to him, “Cut it off, alright? It’s no use.”

There was a brief look of surprise from Jean that he immediately masked with a low chuckle, joined by Connie who was quick to disperse the tension.

Connie and Sasha knew how Jean felt about himself, and how hard he fought his own inner battle. His nightly mumbles of the regret and grief about the passing of Marco, and how he wished he had been better and stronger for tens of his fallen comrades. In those treacherous hours, often slipped through his lips ‘If only I had the power of the titans, I could have made a difference.’ or the seemingly vengeful, ‘If only we didn’t have to save Eren so many times.’ They both knew how calculating, cautious and capable Jean was, and how much he felt overshadowed by unfortunate circumstances, or how he’d always felt like he could have done more if only he had been given the chance to. Each time he succumbed into the dark clouds of his mind, Jean and Sasha was the voice of reason that brought him back from his own demon, ‘For greater good,’ was the convincing phrase that the two of them uttered to Jean, and for greater good did Jean thrived to drown his individual desire and pursuit.

“Let’s just focus on each other, okay?” Connie spoke reassuringly, trying to maintain the lightness in his voice no matter how somber had his heart grown to be, “The three of us. Let’s keep each other safe, okay?

There was a quick yet solemn unison between Jean and Sasha, “Okay.” they said, before a deep silence ensued. From afar, they could hear the sound of Armin from down the step, he was standing and babbling enthusiastically to Eren and Mikasa about the vast prairies of boundless salty water – where merchant could spend their whole life collecting its salt yet it would never deplete. The three of them let silence hung among them as they listened to Armin, and each tried to picture how marvelous the discovery would be. How beautiful, how magnificence would that feeling be. The greater good beyond the wall.

Intuitively they turned to look at each other and the smiles were poignant on their faces, each engulfed in their own thoughts. For a moment the idea of a vast world out there brought a keen warmth inside Connie’s chest, before it was abruptly ceased by the recognition that he no longer had anyone to return home to and tell the story about his journey. Sasha could read the pain that was growing to be visible on Connie’s face, she reached for his arms and squeezed it playfully, “Connie, don’t you think Armin’s crazy?”

“Eh?”

“Eh?” the two exchanged confusion, the similarity their minds shared was uncanny, “Don’t you think so? What kind of weird place would that be? Boundless prairie with water that never runs out of salt to mine… He’s crazy. Maybe knocked himself on the head too hard on the last mission.”

And then the three of them burst out laughing in the kind of humor only they would understand. Jean slid down from his seat and embraced his two friends closely, muttering under his breath, he spoke deeply, “I care so much about the two of you guys…”

There was no audible ‘We do too’ or the likes of it in their friendship for they already knew how they felt about each other. Sasha knew that the forest had long gone for her, and she knew that her home had now resided in the shared battles and journeys with her two best friends. She had accepted the fact that her days would never return to normalcy in the forest like what she had hoped in her early cadet days, but the thought that she would share these days as a soldier with Jean and Connie –no matter how awful or hard would those days be— never failed to bring her at ease. The thought of it made her smile again as she said, wondering, “What do you guys want to do once the war ends?”

The two boys looked at each other, puzzlement was quick to show. When would the war end? They all thought, as each of them had different imagery of what post-war life would look like. For Jean, it would simply look like his childhood: the return to that warm omelet lunch cooked by his mum, laid out on the dining table of his home that he hadn’t been for years, and the faint sound of his mum caressing his hair, ‘Eat well, Jean-boy!’; For Sasha it would simply mean a stroll down the market, buying all the juiciest meat she could buy, and then cook it for the town’s orphans. She thought of chopping down the oak tree behind her old home in the forest, and turned it into the largest dining table she had ever seen, so it would house enough seat for each orphan in the district; As for Connie, after the malady of Ragako, he thought hard what kind of life would he lead after the war ends. For a while, he had thought how meaningless would that be to stay alive after Ragako had been done for. ‘But maybe,’ he thought to himself one day, when he saw Jean and Sasha argued intensely about the best type of dish that eggs could be made into, ‘Maybe I could stay alive just to hear these two idiots argue every day. Maybe I could keep on fighting for everyday’s little, precious moment like this.’ Connie finally knew what kind of post-war life would he like to have: A future where he would no longer have to fight and kill. To have nights when his slumber would be soundly and peaceful, without the voices of death and miseries ringing inside his head no more. He hoped that one day he could tell the tales of his youth to all his grandkids, and how he defeated all the monsters with his two best friends.

“I think this might sound lame but,” Jean broke the silence, “I think I wanna buy my mum a house in the capital. She might like the fancy dwelling, you know.”

Jean and Connie nodded, acknowledging how close was Jean to her mum, and how there was no day passing without Jean regretting his bad behavior towards her during his insecure cadet days. Sasha giggled a little, to the confusion of the two boys, “For me… Maybe I wanna get married.”

The boys suddenly erupted into a fit of laughter, as Connie shrieked, “You—Sasha Braus? Married—to what?”

Sasha kicked the boy’s shin, making Connie whimpered in overdramatic tone, “Of course to a living, breathing man, you idiot.”

“Come, come Sasha, tell us what he’d look like,” amidst his laughter, Jean tried to hype her up, “so we would know what to look for.”

The girl looked up to the starless night and mumbled to herself, “Hmm… maybe… a cute… blond man…” her wondering was quick to be cut-off by the boys’ yet another voluptuous laughter.

“Whoa Sasha, that makes neither of us then! Are you sure?”

“So, like—Armin?”

“…or Commander Erwin?”

Sasha blew a raspberry in disapproval, but carried on with her imagery of whom to marry, “…who likes to cook and also good at it…”

The two boys were still immersed in their own laughter while patting Sasha’s shoulders teasingly, “Let’s stay alive together so we can meet your blond cook one day, okay?”

Sasha giggled to herself, drawing her knees to her chest and hid her face in a childish embarrassment. Jean turned to Connie and nudged him on the waist, making him flinched, tickled, “Oi Connie, your turn.”

He fell to a deep, prolonged hum, before shrugging his shoulder, “I don’t know, maybe something simple.”

“Like what?” Sasha asked, raising her face from her knees.

“Maybe I want to write a book,” Connie said, her mind wandered, “and maybe live close to you guys. Maybe I can try your mum’s legendary omelet, yeah, Jean?”

Jean chuckled in approval, letting Connie to continue, “I’ll have the neighborhood kids –or my own grandkids— come over to my house and listen to our deadly attack on titans. I’ll have Armin come over too since he’s a great story-teller.”

The three teenagers fell deeply into their imagination of how pretty that picture would be. Jean sighed, letting the two others know that there was still a sour fruit hanging in his mind, “Do you think one day someone would write a story about all these?”

“Possibly.”

“Do you think they’ll mention our names too? Jean Kirstein, Sasha Braus and Connie Springer…”

“Probably.”

“Do you think anyone would root for us?” Jean asked again, “Obviously we don’t have the power of the titans, nor are we humanity’s strongest soldiers…”

The three of them drowned into yet another deep silence. Their eyes stared afar at Eren, Mikasa and Armin who were getting ready to leave, secretly mirroring their own to them.

“Hmm,” Connie hummed, ever characteristically so, he maintained the keenness in his voice, “maybe someone would root for us because we remind them of themselves. Just ordinary people who thrive…”

Jean raised his brows as he looked at his best friend, “Even when we’re greeted with struggles beyond compare?”

“Exactly.”

Sasha chimed in, “Even when sometimes it feels like it’s beyond our ability…”

“We keep on fighting. Right, guys?” Connie threw his smile to the two fellow soldiers whom he had grown to love and care for, more than he had to himself, “Because that’s what matters, right? As long as we put the effort, we give our own meaning to this futile fate of being alive.”

“That’s right.” – “Yes, Connie.”

Connie sighed, this time it was the sound of relief, “I’m grateful.”

“For what?”

“For the two of you. You both are the only family I have left.” There was still a stinging pain in Connie’s words, but he was finally at terms with it. He had made peace with his grief, and it was visible to both Jean and Sasha as they hug the shorter boy closer to even a warmer embrace, and finally, they laughed again.

“Or maybe we can rebuild Ragako after this?” Jean sparked the idea, sending a glimmer of hope into Connie’s eyes, “Find the cure for your mum, and let’s live closely together there. We can be neighbors. You said there’s plenty of boar for Sasha to hunt, right, Connie?”

Sasha squealed in excitement to which Jean responded by a loving pat to his brunette hair, as he spoke again, “And maybe we can go to Sasha’s house for dinner every night since his husband’s a good cook.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“Let’s stay alive, guys.”

“The three of us.”

“Yeah.”

“Together?” – “As long as we can.”

And so that night, they laughed and laughed. For once, under the starless skies they became what they had not been able to become: children with child-like wonders. Casting hope for tomorrow, they were there to laugh at the odds and to live their lives so well that Death would tremble to take them.

A/N: Hi guys, I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think! Comments or reblogs are highly appreciated, like so so much.

Out of all angst fics I ever read, my heart hurt the most writing this down. Truly, what an ending for them by Yams.

Credit: The last line was derived from Charles Bukowski’s publication.

[canonconspiracy]

The Millennium Rose (Teaser)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters

Fanfiction By: @rmorningstar21​

Pairing: Yami Yugi/Atem x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minor violence, loneliness (?), nothing gets more violent than the series itself - Rated T.

Posted on AO3 (rmorningstar21) as The Millenium Rose; Posted on Wattpad (rmorningstar21) as The Cursed Millennium Rose, and The Struggling Millennium Rose - Third book for Wattpad coming soon as “The Rejuvenated Millennium Rose”. 

AN: Okay, so I will be the first to admit that my The Millennium Rose series is an older series of mine - one of the first chapter stories I truly got invested in.  It’s been on hiatus for quite some time, but that hiatus will be coming to an end soon. For those of you who haven’t stumbled upon this on either platform, I wanted to share a little teaser (first chapter) of my series.  This follows from Season 1 onwards..  Reader and Atem are married before Pharaoh Atem is sealed in the Millennium Puzzle. I was going to end this one after the Battle City Finals, but due to popular request, posting will begin after my current commission chapter story is up.  I typically age up, but was started prior to doing so.  Due to the rating, I haven’t changed that.  Wanted to keep it accessible for all readers.

A chill crawled up your spine, stinging with each centimeter it moved, grasping your hands tightly to your arms to attempt to shield yourself.  Though you were not sure exactly what you were shielding yourself from, albeit the pain or the darkness that was engulfing your body. As you felt the darkness falling hard upon you, like a weighted blanket that you could not hold, a faint light laid on the floor, illuminating each twisting maze as you stepped.  Each time you walked further through the maze, you could feel the pain increasing, beginning to make your steps more and more tedious. You attempted to call out, to call for his name in the dark, with no avail. Your mouth opened, but as the air escaped your lungs, your voice did not ring. It was almost like choking - the pain that strode into your lungs from your throat - but you could not utter a single word.

Hours passed as you circled the maze, walking in each and every stone cold direction, the pain of the chills slowly seething your skin.  Your surroundings were blackness, and yet you seemed to walk in a labyrinth, swearing that you had turned this way prior, been in each and every spot before, again and again.  Inaudible cries of pain burned in your throat as you continued to walk on, your legs growing tired, lungs constricting. Hopelessness swelled in your chest as you continued on and on, silent tears beginning to fall from your tired eyes.  

Your tired, crying eyes met a figure, merely ten feet away from where you were walking in what seemed like a room.   For a moment you froze, studying the figure, but as you were met with lilac orbs, you took your exhausted legs and ran towards the figure.  The small glimmer of hope taunted you, showing you the man that kept your legs going on your weighted journey, lonesome darkness entangling down to your very soul.  Hope swelled in your chest as you ran, but as you did the room began to get further away, his lilac orbs seeming to grow smaller and smaller away from your vision. Still your feet patted forward until there was no ground beneath you.

As the ground had disappeared, you had begun your journey downward.  Hastily the gravity took your body, plummeting into a deep abyss. Tears once again rained from your eyes.  Your heart dropped as you did, and you tried so hard to scream, feeling it scratching at your throat, constricting it.

He was gone, and you had failed to reach him.

***

You awoke with soaked cheeks and labored breaths, before glancing around and realizing that you were not in that labyrinth any longer.  Another nightmare, you thought to yourself, though every day you lived the nightmares that you slept with.  I miss him.   Ironically, your nightmares had held your memory intact over time, reminding you of the reason you kept on fighting day in and day out in this monotonous world.  Though you would never be able to forget his handsome face, his lilac orbs burned into your skull. As your y/e/c eyes scanned the room, it was simply a relatively plain room surrounding you, little trinkets upon your dresser in the form of plush monsters, and your deck sitting comfortably next to a kuriboh plush that you had grown to adore.  Attempting to steady your breath, you wiped your face free of the salty sadness and glanced at the time flashing upon your alarm clock, your eyes still holding a light redness from when you had been crying in your sleep. Springing to your feet, you nearly fell over, steadying yourself on the side of your bed before further action. Your head was woozy with the newfound movement, the room slowly coming back to you as your dizzy spell passed you.

Making your way to your small, gray walled bathroom, you threw your prior clothes aside and hopped into a quick shower.  Hastily you scrubbed yourself with your f/s body gel, not getting enough time to even enjoy the kisses of the warm water that drenched over your frigid body.  In less than five minutes time, you were already dressed, hair dried, and grabbing at your black messenger bag that laid next to the door. You tucked your deck safely into your bag before gentle fingers reached to touch lightly upon your golden wristband.  For a moment, you allow your eyes to close, thinking of your wristband. It held the symbol to keep your life intact as well as cursed, leaving you to deal with the merits and disappointments of this life. Then as your eyes were still closed, those lilac eyes showed in your mind, reminding you of the reason you keep on with this silly charade, hoping that one day everything will change.

Practically jogging out the door, you made your way to your new life once again.  Domino High School, as you read upon the sign, looked bustling and boring from the eyes of a woman who had attended countless high school’s over time.  The crowds had shown that it was definitely a more lively school than the last you had attended, though not as lively as the one you had attended prior.  Maybe if you did not forever look 16, you would not have to attend so many boring lectures in your life, but you had attended plenty in your time, across the globe.  Each curriculum merely had minor changes to it, if any, and you had to purposely get things wrong from time to time to not seem out of the ordinary. The world changed and grew around you, while you stayed the same, the same h/c h/l, and young y/e/c orbs.  The only thing that had changed over time was your skin, which had lightened from your Egyptian tan to a pale ivory, just as everyone else looked around you. It was just another boring day in monotony for you, but there was a presence around that had kept you on your toes as you entered your newfound high school.  You could feel something was different in the world now, which had rose excitement and fear in your young body.

***

You were coming out of your geometry class, holding your books tightly to your chest and walking quickly to your locker before lunch, your eyes at your feet as you walked.  As you did so, you were lost in thought, and before you knew it, you whacked directly into something solitary, causing you to stumble backwards, staring up in a moment of terror.  What you had found was that you ended up slamming directly into another student, and blush began rising in your cheeks from the embarrassment. It was needless to say that the boy looked unpleasant with his round face that seemed to hold a permanent scowl.  The boy looked as if he were maybe 17, largely boned, while you had a very tiny frame, yet he glared angrily at you as if you had pushed him off of a cliff. On the other hand, you were the one with the books scattered all over the ground, and the impact had caused your tailbone to whack the floor, causing a sharp, yet temporary pain.

“I’m so sorry!” you said frantically, grabbing your books quickly and pulling yourself to your feet.  You bowed slightly in respect and began to rush off before you felt a pull at the back of your uniform.  Seconds later, you were pinned against the wall, staring up at the unpleasant boy you had angered, his face looking even more unpleasant than previously.  It was as if the anger building in him was surfacing due to what you would assume was a slight inconvenience.

“Don’t think just because you’re new you can get away with that,” he growled, pressing harder against your shoulder.  

Just my luck that I run into the school bully on my first day here, you thought to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.  This was not particularly an uncommon occurrence for you, seeing as you had attended plenty of high schools over the last couple thousand years, but nevertheless, you were still a relatively scrawny girl with a 16 year old body.  Old souls still did not have super strength, after all. Though you could likely send him to the shadow realm, doing something so rash on your first day would have been a mistake that you would have to live with for the rest of the time you could attend school there, and you shied away from that idea.  “I didn’t mean to harm you,” you said cowering back, pain beginning to build in the shoulder he was pressing on. “I-I it’ll never happen again.” You attempted your best fake smile, and yet it dropped almost immediately as the rage fueled his face, watching it scrunch even more.

The boy drew his free hand back, and was about to send it directly into your face.  You could see the build up, and your eyes squeezed shut tightly. After a few moments without impact, you opened your eyes back up to see the boy being held back by another student.  “You shouldn’t hit a lady,” the slender boy said with the relatively pointed hair, all coming up at the top. As you finally were fully registering what was going on, you saw that the boy was holding the bully’s fist, twisting it slightly.  “And if you don’t let go of her, we are going to have problems, buddy.”  

The school bully that was about to attack you cowardly ran away, letting go of your shoulder, and letting your body slump to the floor.  You could hear a few people talking to the boy that had just saved you, but you were too busy trying to control your breathing, and attempting to ignore the pain that seared through your shoulder.  After a few moments, you noticed a hand outstretched to you, paired with a gentle smile on the boy’s face whom had just saved you. With your good arm you had taken it, letting him bring you to your feet.  

“Uh, thank you, so very much,” you said bowing slightly, a formal gesture that you had not broken over so many years.  You smiled softly at the boy, holding your books tightly to you, despite the pain that you felt still radiating through your shoulder.  There was no doubt that the bully had at least left a bruise upon your shoulder from the pressure he was using, and though he was a coward to the boy that had saved you, he likely would have slammed a fist directly into your face.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” the boy said with a genuine smile.  

You had nodded at his words, meekly saying, “I just moved here.”  In actuality, of course you had just moved there, but you knew that every school was basically the same.  Each school that you had run into, you had your share of those issues. Sometimes there were kind strangers willing to help, occasionally you had friends that had your back, and then sometimes you would have to deal with a swift fist hitting you somewhere.  Bullies were a common occurrence for high schools, and that was one of the few things that made you regret not aging.

“I’m Tristan, and these are my friends.”  He gestured back to the group you assumed you were hearing while you were still on the floor.  

“I’m Tea,” a girl with short brunette hair said with a kind smile.

A boy with a Brooklyn accent and blonde hair said next, “I’m Joey.”

And the last boy could have given you a heart attack standing right there.  He said, “I’m Yugi,” but as you noticed the spiked multi color hair on his head, the first thing you thought of was him.  Your heart skipped a beat, though the boy was definitely smaller than the one that you longed so desperately for. The differences were subtle, and yet you could see each one.  His stature, for one, and for two, the shaping of his eyes was much more child-like than him, though they held the same lilac color. Yugi had a shy, yet kind smile upon his face, and continued with, “Would you like to come with us to lunch?”

For a moment, you bit your lip, unsure of what to say.  As you weighed your options, you studied the group, though your eyes were mainly set upon the boy who called himself Yugi.  He was so much like him, and yet not. If he was a reincarnation of him, would that be even possible? As your y/e/c orbs raked over the peculiar group, you noticed something odd hanging from the short boy’s neck.  Just as your item held your wrist was Egyptian, you could clearly see that what he had was an artifact, a very familiar one for that matter. Thinking, you glanced to your wrist, and back to it, and it dawned upon you, making you nod quickly.  “I-I would love to, thank you,” you said rushed, realizing that you had been standing there in awe and silence. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

As you walked with the group, you couldn’t help but keep looking over at the Millennium Puzzle adorning the young boy’s neck.  Maybe, you wondered to yourself, but attempted to shake the thought of as you stood in line with the group and got lunch with them all.  Even if it was, would he remember me?  

When the group had gotten their lunches, you sat beside Tea and Yugi while Tristan and Joey sat across from you three.  Through your peripheral vision, you would occasionally catch small glances of Yugi, particularly of the millennium item adorning his neck.  Excitement was rising in your chest, even paired with a small bit of hope that you could be right. If the prophecy was truly real, then you would be right.  What ifs ran through your mind as you thought more and more about it, though you attempted to keep regular conversation going on with the group when necessary.  They seemed like kind people, and even if somehow you were wrong, you picked the right group to hang out with for this attended school.

[wreckofawriter]

Magnolia

Royal Au

Pairing: prince!Sirius Black x reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: you sneak over a wall and meet a young prince and you keep sneaking over

Song to Set the Vibe: White Ferrari ~ Frank Ocean

A/n me: I hate cliches also me: write 6k word fic cliche. Anyway this was really fun to write, and it took me forever. (Please excuse any mistakes. I edited at 3am)

    It started with pink petals, the delicate things falling over the old mossy wall reminding you of a scene from a novel your mother had read to you. You used to stare at the branches which peeked over the wall like the sun over the horizon in the early morning. You fell in love with the scent of the flowers, it was soft and sweet. It wasn’t until you were eight years old when you finally saw the tree in its entirety. 

    By then you were reading the books which your mother had recited to you. One always tucked into your small bag among a small notebook, quill, and ink which you always feared would overturn. You had a lot of free time at that age, your parents didn’t trust you in the bakery yet and you were old enough to wander on your own. 

One day you found yourself staring up at the mossy wall which seemed miles high from where you stood. Your interest in the large tree was peaked, your thirst to perch on its sturdy branches was slowly killing you. You eyed the wall as you did an arithmetic problem, brow furrowed, mind reeling. You let out a small sigh, the wind mimicking you as a small gust blew your untamed hair across your face. You placed your hand onto a small stone jutting out from the barrier; it gave you a good hold. You had to balance on your toes to reach it, your other hand digging into the moss as you hoisted yourself upwards, feet scrambling for a second before your left found a jut. You smiled gazing thousands of feet upwards where you would see the branches glancing down at you.

You continued the pattern; one hand, a hold, one foot a hold. You slipped twice, once letting out a small yelp as your hands dug into the stone holding you in place, feet searching desperately for a hold. They found one and you took a breath, calming your racing heart as the adrenaline which surged through your body retreated. 

After what felt like hours your fingers found the smooth top of the wall, you hooked your arm across it pulling yourself over with a groan. You swung your right leg over, your knee banging on the small lip of the top as you did. You winced but the pain was forgotten as you peered out into the vast garden which lay beneath you. You felt your lips part, short breaths getting caught in your throat. 

It was magnificent. There must have been thousands of flowers; tulips, roses, daffodils, bluebells, lilies and so much more. Assortments of ferns and rounded bushes dotted the area. You could make out a large castle in the distance, for a second you thought you had imagined it.  The grass was so green you thought it to be enchanted. 

Your mind wandered back to the magnolia tree. It must have been ancient. Its trunk as wide as a large barrel, its branches reaching for the sky, its flowers spread wide, their intoxicating scent making a smile break onto your lips. You thought of Alice and wondered if this is how she felt when she fell into Wonderland. 

You picked out the sturdiest branch which crossed the wall before darting along it and collapsing into a larger and safer one. Your smile widened. You sat yourself at the junction of two thick branches humming quietly as you took out a book and began to read, your leg swinging lazily as petals drifted to the ground around you. 

For the next week, you struggled up the wall scraping your knees and bruising your fingertips to climb into the tree. You would stay there for hours. Playing among its branches or scribbling sketches in your journal, you had switched out your quill for a pencil so you didn’t have to worry about the ink anymore. 

By your tenth day, the flowers had begun to wilt, late May was turning to June and the soft pink was to be replaced by leafy green. You were disappointed that they would be leaving you, they were so incredibly beautiful. As you scampered across your branch into your seat a shimmer of black caught your eye. You craned your neck to see a boy tucked at the bottom of the tree, his knees were drawn to his chest, his head buried within them. His body shook with sobs, hair spilling around him. 

You tilted your head to the side in confusion before quietly descending the tree. You had never touched your feet onto the grass of the lawn, you didn’t dare, too afraid it's magic might pierce you. You swallowed your fear and dropped beside the boy, shaking the branches as petals rained around you. 

The boy looked up, started by your sudden appearance. You flashed him a grin, three teeth missing from its uniform.

“Hi!” You spoke, your voice cutting through the quiet of the garden.

He stared up at you, deep grey eyes widened, his cheeks blotchy and eyes rimmed in red, “Hello.” he whispered, rubbing his eyes with his fists and wincing. 

“I’m y/n. What’s your name?” you asked falling to your knees in front of him, your skirt pooling around you. 

“Sirius.” He responded quietly, “Sirius Black.” 

The name felt familiar like you had heard it a thousand times before, you brushed away the feeling, “That’s an odd name.” 

He shrugged weakly, “Everyone in my family had an odd name.” 

“Well, I quite like yours.” You paused frowning, “Why are you crying?” 

He bit his lip, eyes darting away from you, he drew back into himself and you felt your disappointment deepen. 

“I won’t tell anyone you know.” You huffed sliding off your knees and crossing your legs, “I don’t really have anyone to tell anyway. All the girls I used to play with say I’m strange now.” your bruised fingers danced over a fallen petal, picking in up and spinning it between them.

He glanced back up at you, “You swear you won’t tell?” 

You nodded enthusiastically. 

He sighed, gaze falling onto the pink and white dusted ground. He held out his hands to you. You peered at them, eyes widening for a moment. Thin scars ran across them, some white with old age, some a soft pink. It was the deep red that caught your attention. They were angry, the skin around them puffy as small rivers of blood dripped down to his wrist. 

You took his hands delicately into your own, Sirius looked back up at you tears making his eyes glassy.

“I broke a vase.” He explained tearfully, “My mom hurts us when we break things.” A sob ripped from his throat and you felt your chest contract in sudden pain. 

“Now I’m gonna have big ugly scars on my hand.” He wailed more tears spilling off his chin. 

“It’s okay.” You beamed at him and he stopped, hiccuping as you drew his attention to the white marks which riddled your own hands. “I burn myself all the time, I have scars all over my knees and legs too.” 

Sirius’s eyes danced across your own marks, most were small and wide, a few longer and thin like his own. 

“Once they heal you can say you got them fighting a dragon like I do. We can say we slayed it together, then maybe some of those girls would actually believe me.” You felt your heart grow lighter at the idea. “Plus I know how to make them stop hurting.” 

“You do?” He gasped.

You nodded, “My momma does it all the time.” With that, you brought his hands up to your lips placing light kisses on each one.

Sirius felt his cheeks heat for unknown reasons, the stinging of the slashes seeming to fade as your lips grazed them.

As you pulled giggled and raspberry pastries from your bag Sirius decided you were an angel that God had dropped from the magnolia tree. 

It only took you one night to put two and two together. You asked him if he had ever been turned into a frog the next day and when he looked at you like you were crazy you explained that princes did that sometimes. 

Sirius’s eyes widened, “You know I’m a prince?” his voice was shaky like it was about to break. 

You nodded, “Why else would you live in a castle, plus I remembered your name, my momma talks about you and your brother sometimes.” 

There was a pause, you expected Sirius to say something but when he didn’t you moved on talking about a fish you saw in the stream behind your house.

As you packed up to leave for the day Sirius grabbed your hand stopping you in your tracks. His eyes were wide, his lips drawn into a small pout, “You don’t care that I’m a prince?”

You scrunch your nose, “Why would I care?” 

Sirius broke into a smile and shrugged, you liked it better when he smiled. 

You tucked your book into your bag and jumped from the lowest hanging branch pulling yourself onto it, a flurry of pink and white fell onto the boy below you, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” You called as you scaled the tree, disappearing behind the wall a few moments later. 

Sirius started at where you had been just before you hid from sight, his grin was glowing, “Tomorrow.” He mumbled softly to himself. You were coming back to him. 

You were ten now. You could climb the garden walls with your eyes closed, on muscle memory alone. You and Sirius had spent your time under the leaves of the magnolia reading and playing together.

Today marked the two-year anniversary of your friendship not that either of you knew or cared. You crept quietly down the branches until you sat just above the boy. His head was buried in a book, his eyebrows knitted from frustration. You hooked your legs around the branch and swung downwards catching him by surprise.

“Whatcha reading?” You asked the small skirt you were wearing dropping to your chin, your tights on display, something your mother said was quite rude. 

Sirius frowned and you brought your hands to the branch swinging your legs out from around it and plopping onto the grass next to him. 

“It’s a book on ancient history. My mother wants me to read it.” He mumbled.

You glanced at the first few words on the page and scrunched your nose, “Sounds boring.” 

“It is.” He agreed, looking to face you only to find you had turned away, peering into your small satchel. You spun back around with a small torn paperback in hand.

“Read this.” you stated pushing it into his grip, “It’s about a boy who travels the world looking for his little sister. It’s much more fun.” 

Sirius gazed at the rumpled cover, the pages were dog-eared, a terrible habit you had gained from your lack of bookmarks. 

“There is a witch and a princess and even a dragon!” You gushed, glancing up at him with wide eyes, “You swear you’ll read it?” 

Sirius nodded, “Of course.” 

You squealed in excitement, “When you finish you have to tell me all about your favorite character. Mine’s Rocky she’s the best and she- nevermind.” You cut yourself off, “I don’t want to spoil it.”

Sirius grinned back at you, his heartbeat speeding as you gleamed in the mid-afternoon light, the shadows of petals falling around you reminding him you were real, not just some daydream he had created in his mind. 

Two more years had passed. Not long after giving your book to Sirius, your mother decided you were old enough to work at the family’s bakery. You never liked baking much, it was a bit of a hassle and far too technical, but your parents didn’t seem to care. 

You spent most days inside the stuffy back kitchen making batter and doing dishes. You still weren’t allowed to do anything fun like frost cakes or cut cookies. Your life became long and boring, your free time disappeared as the expectations for you rose. 

Weekends became a safe haven. Each Saturday you would scale the wall and hurry down a tree to meet Sirius. You didn’t play as many games as you used to. You no longer believed in dragons and mermaids or princes turning into frogs. Instead, you spent your time talking and reading, Sirius had grown taller than you now, his chin almost able to reach the top of your head as you stood side by side. The baby fat from his face had also begun to disappear and you heard girls around town whisper about how handsome the eldest prince had become. 

You never really noticed though, he was still your best friend and you didn’t think him growing a few inches would change that. 

It was Saturday, your favorite day of the week. You slipped silently down the tree, its flowers still closed, ready to bloom in a few days time. To your surprise, Sirius wasn't seated below the reaching branches but instead in the lawn, his bag and book disregarded in the light shade. 

You slipped off your shoes, dropping to the ground and beginning towards the boy. The grass tickled your feet and a small gust of wind blew your smooth hair in front of you. As you tucked it out of the way you noticed the weapon held in your friend’s hand. 

You called out to him and he turned giving you a full display of the sword his small hands grasped. 

Your eyes widened as you investigated the metal, sunlight made it shimmer, small engravings in a language you didn’t understand became visible down its center. Its handle was made of a deep red leather which matched its sheath. 

“It’s so cool right!” Sirius beamed down at you.

You nodded but the fresh bandages on his hands kept you from smiling. He caught you staring, his eyes falling as he turned away from you.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled, you could hear the hurt in his voice realizing quickly you had killed his happiness. 

You panicked for a brief moment before plastering on a smile, “Can you do any moves with it yet?” you asked, placing a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. 

His enthusiasm jumped back, “Yeah! I got taught this one where you slice it across and then swing it over your head like this.” he mimicked his explained actions and you giggled as he clumsily slowed it down. It was clear it was too heavy for him. 

A bit of red dusted his cheeks, “My mother says I’ll grow into it.” 

“You will.” You agreed, “I brought some peanut butter cookies if you want.”

He grinned and the two of you began back towards your tree. You sat down with a small huff taking out the wrapped goods and passing them to him. 

“I have to start working full time at the bakery soon.” You sighed removing an apple from your satchel

Sirius felt his heart crumble. He wouldn’t be able to see you? What would he do with all his free time? He already only saw you two days a week, three if he was lucky. How was he supposed to deal with never seeing you? It seemed like an impossible task. 

“I was thinking we could meet in the evening instead,” you suggested snapping Sirius from his downwards spiral, “My mom usually lets me go around six or seven so do you wanna meet here at seven-thirty? I know it’s kinda late and if you don’t want to then that’s fi-” 

“I don’t mind.” Sirius rushed, “Not at all, you can come more days then right?” 

You nodded smiling up at him, “Yeah.” 

“Good.”

Your shoulders brushed, the wind picking up and causing the budding flowers to ruffle. Sirius leaned closer to you and caught your scent; cinnamon and caramel. Warm and sweet. His heartbeat sped and he felt his ears grow red. 

“Y/n.” He spoke suddenly and you turned to face him, the sunlight catching your eyes and making them gleam, “Will you marry me?” 

You furrowed your brows.

“I-I mean when we are older obviously,” He explained hurriedly, his face heating up. “I mean you’re my best friend and everything and I just thought it would be nice.”

You giggled a bewitching sound, “You don’t want to marry me Sirius.” you laughed shaking your head. 

You were wrong.

The evening sun glinted in your eyes as you sat atop the wall, you could see Sirius in the lawn, his sword swinging around him in a glint of silver. He had gotten quite good with it in the past two years. You watched for a few moments mesmerized by his smooth movements. You shook your head, your neat ponytail swinging behind you. 

When your feet touched the ground you hummed dropping your bag and walking towards the boy. You were quiet, making sure to step slowly and carefully You neared him stifling a giggle and suddenly he swung towards you. You ducked, yelping in surprise. 

Sirius gasped, “Y/n! Are you okay?” he bent towards you and saw your body shake. For a horrifying moment, he thought he had hurt you. 

You stood up laughing, “Sorry” you giggled, “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you while you were doing you swingy things.” 

He rolled his eyes relief breaking over him, “They’re called positions not ‘swingy things’” 

“Yeah, whatever your highness.” You mocked taking the sword from his hand before he could protest. You were surprised at its weight, finding it hard to imagine that he could swing such a thing at age twelve, “Jesus this thing is heavy.” You mumbled using two hands to bring it over your head in a satisfying swoosh. 

“You’re holding it wrong,” Sirius smirked.

You stuck your tongue out at him, scrunching your nose.

    He tsked his tongue grinning, “So childish.”

    “Yeah because you’re the king of maturity.” you scoffed, “Now are you gonna show me how to hold this thing or just laugh at me?” 

    “It’s pretty funny to watch.” He admitted shrugging and you pouted, Sirius found himself thinking it was incredibly adorable. “Fine.”

    He stepped behind you, his arms circling around your waist and gripping over your own. 

    “You want your thumb folded over like this,” He mumbled in your ear as he moved your hands accordingly. You fought a blush as his breath fanned over your cheek.

    “You have to make sure that you have a strong grip, so don’t overlap your hands.” He instructed. Sirius felt like he was about to combust, his heart was speeding in his chest at an inhuman rate, his cheeks were blazing red as your body pressed into his own. Your sugary scent had taken him over. The urge to spin you around and kiss you had gotten so strong he realized he couldn’t go another second holding onto you. 

    Sirius stepped away and you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

 “And now you can swing.” He spoke breathlessly and you did, slicing the air in two. 

“That was fun.” You giggled but Sirius barely heard you. 

You were entirely unaware of the effect you had on him. You had no clue that he would spend the next week imagining how you felt in his arms. You were forever innocent of the fact that you would plague his dreams. 

You groaned, your feet ached and your hands were sore. You had been up since four, your mother insistent on you prepping pastries and then forced you to spend the day frosting cupcakes with tedious designs. You hated that you were so good at it, you had an amazing gift for frosting art which meant many involuntary hours spent with piping bags in hand. 

The wall was easy to climb but your aching feet complained and you considered turning around, you could have used the extra hours of sleep. Sirius flashed through your mind and you began up the wall. When you reached the top you sat there for a moment, the tree looked awfully difficult to climb in your fatigue. 

“Sirius.” You called and you watched him spin towards your voice, the full moon reflecting off of his deep black hair.

He walked over and stood below you with his arms crossed, “You’re late.” 

You groaned, “I know, I’m sorry, my mom wanted me to finish this ridiculous cake.” 

He smiled, “I thought you weren’t coming for a bit.”

“So did I.” You mumbled. “Look I don’t want to climb the tree right now.” You explained, “So I’m gonna jump, catch me okay?” 

Sirius’s eyes widened, “What?!”

“Catch me!” you repeated sliding to the edge of the wall, hands pressed into it, ready to push you off.

“Are you crazy?” He shouted and you ignored his words, taking in a breath. 

“On three!” 

Sirius began to panic, “Y/n I don’t know if I can-”

“One.” You moved to the very edge, your heart thumping.

“This is a stupid idea!” 

“Two.” You spoked hands pressed and ready.

    “I can’t believe you are doing this,” Sirius mumbled 

    “Three!” You took in a deep breath and pushed off the wall.

    Sirius held out his arms not even sure how to brace himself. You collided with his chest taking you both to the ground with an unsettling thump. Sirius groaned, his back pressed into the damp grass, his hair fanning over his face. He could feel a dull ache in his right elbow and left ankle. Your giggle drew him from his slight pain, he opened his eyes watching as you brushed his hair from his face. 

    “Thank you, your majesty.” You whispered, smirking down at him from where you were seated on his chest. 

    “You know I hate it when you call me that.” He murmured and your smile only widened. 

    “It’s only proper that I pay my respects.” Your voice was mocking yet deathly sweet.

    He scoffed, “You just jumped from ten feet because you didn’t feel like climbing. What about you is proper?” 

    You laughed again rolling off of his chest and onto the grass beside him. You started up at the stars for a moment your heart still beating too quickly as adrenalin left you. You traced the constellations, the comforting sounds of crickets and Sirius’s breaths making your eyelids grow heavy. 

“I started reading philosophy recently.” You spoke softly, a warm gust of wind rushed through the late summer air “I hate it.” 

Sirius snorted beside you, “I figured you would.”

“I just don’t understand why they make everything so fucking complicated. I mean why does there have to be an answer to everything?” You mumbled you felt Sirius’s hand brush your own for a moment, “I started to wonder why they had all these questions in the first place. Why does there need to be a reason for living? Can’t we just...live?”

His knuckles brushed yours again.

“I started coming up with my own answers. Each time they asked a question I would just say the first thing that came to my mind and stick with it.” 

His fingers entangled with yours, his hand fitting snug within your own. 

“Some greek asked, ‘Why are we living?’ and all I could think to answer was because we haven’t died yet. It was suddenly all so simple and meaningless.” You turned your head toward Sirius. “I liked it better that way.” 

Silence fell, the stars blinked back at you and for the first time in a long time you imagined you were flying among them. Sirius’s hand was warm in your own. The wind had stilled and you drifted to sleep beside the magnolia tree.  

You felt angry tears rush down your face as your feet hit uneven cobblestone. It was seven-thirty on the night before your sixteenth birthday. You scampered up the wall, your toes slipping from their holds twice as sobs ripped from your throat. Your knees hit the lip on the wall’s top, something you hadn’t done since eight years before. Tears made your vision fuzzy and your head throb as you clumsily stumbled down the tree, slipping on the last branch and falling into a heap at its trunk.

Sirius rushed towards you, “Y/n, are you okay?” you felt his hands on your hips as he drew you into his hold. You fisted his shirt burying your face into his chest as you continued to sob. The boy who held you was stunned, unsure. He felt his chest seize in sudden pain at the sound of your suffering. 

Your cries quieted and were suddenly replaced with a shriek of anger. “That fucker!” you shouted pushing away from the embrace and Sirius knew immediately who had upset you. 

It was no secret to him that your father wasn’t the nicest person around. He never hit you or your mother but his anger was out of control. 

“I spent hours on it.” you sobbed, “Hours! My fingers were cramped from holding that stupid fucking pipping bag and it looked so good. So perfect, best cake I have frosted yet. And then he gets mad because he forgot to set a timer which is not my problem in the first place and he just destroys it.” your voice was laced in venom, your teeth gritted as rage-filled tears dripped off your chin.

“They are supposed to pick it up two days from now. Which means I’m gonna have to spend my entire day tomorrow making and frosting a new one.” Your voice broke in two and you felt like collapsing again. 

You felt Sirius’s hands cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away angry tears. You looked at him through a glassy haze, your eyes felt hot and sticky, eyelashes thick with saltwater. He wore a soft frown, his eyebrows furrowed a slight pout on his lips.

You stared at him for a moment, sniffling softly as your hands loosened around his shirt. His eyes shimmered in the late sunlight, hair framing his pale face, cheeks blossoming with deep red roses. He was beautiful. 

You leaned forward suddenly, your lips colliding with his own. 

Sirius’s narrowed eyes grew wide before sinking shut as your hands fisted his shirt again, drawing him closer to you. His own found your hips, tightening as your tongue grazed his bottom lip. He opened his mouth allowing you to deepen the kiss as your hands wandered up around his neck, lightly tugging on his hair. You tasted of bitter tears and the sweetness of sugar. You pulled away slowly, your breath fanning across Sirius’s stunned face. 

“Do that again.” He mumbled.

“What?”

“Kiss me.” 

You did, your lips meeting slower this time, your felt Sirius sink into you, his lips dancing with your own, the kiss was slower than your first, neater. His lips trailed to the corner of your mouth, laying butterfly kisses on your cheeks before wandering down your jaw to your neck where he nipped lightly at your skin. After a few minutes, he trailed back up to your lips placing a light kiss on them before pulling away. 

Your breathing was short, heart hammering heavily in your chest. 

“I got you something,” Sirius mumbled a large smile plastering across his lips. 

You grinned lazily, “You didn’t have to.” 

He shrugged, “Well I did.” With that, he reached into his pocket and removed a small thin box wrapped in soft pink tissue.

You took it carefully into your hands, tearing the paper to reveal a small back box, you glanced up at him and he nodded, eager for you to continue. When you lifted the lid your eyes widened, “Holy shit Sirius.” 

On a soft bed of white lay a necklace. The gleam of the heavy diamond was blinding. You lifted it from the case as delicately as you could turning to meet Sirius who was beaming.

“Do you like it?” He asked in anticipation.

“Sirius, this is insane.” You gasped, “This had to have cost a fortune.” 

He shrugged, “It wasn’t that much.”

You looked back at the gem mouth dropping, “I, I don’t think I can accept this, I mean.” You released a breath, “This probably costs more than my house.”

“Please take it.” Sirius begged, “I have no use for it if you don’t and you would look so beautiful in it.” 

“Sirius this is literally insane.” You mumbled but he ignored you, taking the jewelry from your grip.

“Turn around.” He mumbled and you complied, feeling him drape the cold stone around your neck and clasping it. His lips danced across the back of your neck before he grabbed your shoulders turning you back to face him. 

His eyes roamed over your form as you peered up at him through your eyelashes, “God you are so fucking gorgeous.” He murmured and you felt your cheeks go red. 

“Shut up,” you muttered, bringing your hands to your face. 

“How can I shut up when you are so stunning?” He grinned.

“Really it’s not funny, Sirius.” You glared at him with no real malice behind your eyes. 

He hummed bringing your lips to his own once again. 

Dating Sirius was amazing. For a while anyway. It was always amazing when you were alone. Just you and him seated under your tree, the sweet smell of flowers and endless baked goods as you talked about philosophy or the stars. It was everyone else who made it so difficult, so complicated. 

When you had brought him to your house your mother had fainted as you explained that you had known the future king for almost a decade. And then she fainted again when you revealed you were dating. 

Sirius’s family was an entirely different story. When he announced he was dating a girl who was anything but nobility his mother had slashed open his hands again and demanded your name so she could have you put to death for witchcraft. Sirius warned her that if any harm came to you he would kill her and then leave. His threats were not empty. 

Sirius brought you to the castle many times over the two years you had been dating, but you were never faced with his mother and you were grateful for that. You met Regulus who was stiff and proper, but nice enough despite the occasional insults he threw at your class. Sirius’s father was wooden and almost seemed numb, you figured he had to be, married to the women that he was. Sirius had burst into laughter when you told him that. 

You preferred the gardens to the castle, although you didn’t have to sneak into them anymore. Instead, you walked through the gates where you were always met by Sirius.

People stared at you and whispered behind their hands in town. You hated the sudden attention you got, it was suffocating. Everything felt suffocating. The sudden coldness from your family, the hatred from Sirius’s, the stares and the expectations, and the attention. It all felt like it was squeezing the life out of you and you found yourself missing days under the magnolia tree when it was just you and Sirius, not everyone else in the world. 

You walked through the gates, your bag slung lazily around your shoulder. You were surprised to find SIirus absent from the entrance, you were turning to leave when a guard stopped you.

“Prince Sirius has requested your presence in the gardens, my lady.” He spoke and you cringed unsure if it was because of Sirius being addressed as ‘Prince’ or yourself as ‘my lady’. Both made your stomach churn. 

You nodded numbly making your way towards the old magnolia, its sweet scent had returned, early spring making everything seem fresh. You descended the hill, noticing small lights tucked into the tree you loved so dearly. 

As you neared you realized they were candles and you felt your heart stopped. Sirius stepped out from behind the tree in a suit, his hair was brushed back from his face and you almost didn’t recognize him. As he smiled at you you felt tears pool in your eyes. They were bitterly cold. He took your hand in his own. 

“I love you y/n,” he whispered and you couldn’t respond, your heart throbbed, “I think I’ve been in love with you since I was eight years old.” you felt your throat go dry. “I want you to be with me for the rest of my life.” He sank to a knee, opening a velvet box with a ring far too big inside, “Y/n y/l/n, will you marry me?”

You felt numb, sobs shaking your body, “No.”  

Sirius’s eyes widened, smile dropping, “What?” 

You took in a shaky breath trying to control the whimpers that wanted to escape, “No.” you repeated, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Sirius stood, the little velvet box being tucked away, “Y/n, what are you talking about?”

You felt more tears build in your eyes, “I can’t anymore Siri.” you sobbed, “I’m so sorry, I tried I really tried, but I can’t.”

“Wait, y/n,” he tried to reach out and hold you but you pushed him away drawing into yourself.  “It’s fine if you want to wait a little longer I don’t mind, you don’t have to get so upset.”

“You aren’t listening to me Sirius.” You cried, “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do us anymore. It’s just all too much.”

The heartbreak in his eyes made it a thousand times worse, “Us?” his voice was small.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, “I just can’t take the stares and the whispers and the hate. I can’t be called my lady and dress up in diamonds.” You sobbed, “I can’t be a queen.” 

Sirius’s eyes had grown glossy, “Y/n/n if this is about my family, you don’t have to worry.”

“It’s not just your family, it’s, it’s everyone.” You explained, “My own parents treat me like an outsider and I don’t even know why. People stare at me in the streets and whisper behind my back. I can’t deal with it all Sirius, it’s killing me.” you let out a breath, shaking, “It’s killing me Siri.” 

Sirius stood stunned in front of you, tears trailed down his face, he looked hurt, betrayed.

“I love you.” You mumbled moving onto your toes to place a final kiss on his lips, he responded slowly and you slipped away a moment later, “But I can’t be a queen.” 

You turned around quickly about to break into a run when you felt a hand grip your wrist.

You swung back around to face him and you felt your heart shatter, his eyes were full of heartbreak, desperation evident on his features, “I’ll leave all this.” He whispered, “I’ll leave it all, it can be just you and me and we can go somewhere far from here where no one will know my name. Please y/n.” He begged, “Please don’t leave me.”

You swallowed a sob, “You and I both know I’m not letting you throw away your life for me.” You reached your hand up to your necklace, unclasping it and letting it slide into your palm. You pressed the gem into Sirius’s hand, “You deserve better.” you whispered before you turned on your heel and began to run. 

He truly did deserve better. 

Part 2 ~♡~ Part 3

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

@sleepingalaska

@chloe-geoghegan1

@songforhema

@wangmangagavroche

@evyiione

Masterlist

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Breathe ~ the Doctor (part 5)

A/n: I should be doing requests... I’m sorry... I just really love Doctor Who and my only other option is to watch the show where I’m at in my rewatch rather than where I’m at in this fan fiction, and I just got to the episode where Ten becomes Eleven and I’m... not ready man. Dang it.

Word Count:11,000+

MASTERLIST

When the Doctor and Rose cornered Y/n with Mickey completely out of sight, Y/n knew this was another intervention. The last time they'd done this was when they'd asked him to stop killing himself to save others. A bit hypocritical coming from the Doctor, but understandable as well. Watching one of the people you love die is bad enough once, but multiple times? Yeah no.

This time, they all knew it was different without having to say anything.

Y/n had gotten rather good at steering the TARDIS. Recently the Doctor had been letting him do it on his own to give him the experience, which had given The Doctor more time to spend with Rose. Mickey had been glued to Y/n's side because of this, trying to avoid watching his ex be with someone else. His ex, who he still loved. It was getting awkward if they were all being honest. The Doctor and Rose had stepped away from each other a lot, and it was obvious it was rather unpleasant for both of them. Instead of sitting back and teasing Y/n or recounting adventures or dreaming up possible news ones, inches apart with the Doctor's arm around Rose's shoulders, now they just talked about things from a bit of distance, with much less enthusiasm and flirting. Y/n avoided the awkwardness by distracting Mickey and driving the TARDIS. In fact, he'd learned to ignore a lot of things he didn't want to acknowledge by driving the TARDIS.

Like now. Rose and the Doctor looked at him, arms folded and faces serious, as Y/n overly focused on driving the TARDIS. Finally Rose sighed, stepping closer. "Where do you guys want to go now? I think I have the hang of this for real this time! No accidents." He waited for them to take the ease poke fun, but when they didn't he pushed on hurriedly. "I love the ocean don't get me wrong, but an ocean on another planet? Not great to open the doors on, but fun to explore. We were just lucky there was that ship there." He chuckled, but it fell short again when the other two didn't laugh. He sighed, stopping. "What is it?" He amusement had fallen, his anxiety rising.

"A while ago when we were at that school with the-"

"Weird bat people who wanted to be gods so they could fix the universe?" Y/n offered.

"Yeah," Rose agreed. A smile slipped through for a second until she swallowed it. "Brother whatever his name was - Mr. Finch. He said... he said you had memories that weren't yours."

Y/n forced a chuckle. "That was a while ago, Rosey, why are we talking about it now?"

Rose shot the Doctor a look. "Someone wanted to ignore it as much as you do. But I think we need to talk about this, because secrets are making things difficult and talking about things going on is important. Especially if it includes other people."

Y/n sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know what you could mean."

The Doctor piped up then. "Gallifrey." Y/n jerked, his knuckles going white as he gripped the control panel. "Did I ever tell you about what it was like there?" Y/n didn't respond, so the Doctor continued. "It was different than your Earth, obviously. But not just different like we've seen in places like Earth - it was really different. It was breathtaking. There were two suns there, and silver leaves that glowed when the light touched them." His voice was almost reverent, and Y/n felt his chest hurt as the image came to his mind so clearly. "The sky was the same though. A beautiful blue-"

"Blue?" Y/n looked up at him with confusion, and immediately realized his mistake. When the two men locked eyes, there was pain mirrored in both.

"What color was it really?" Rose asked softly. She knew. Y/n knew she knew. He realized only too quickly how this had been planned out, so clear and easy, to drag the truth out of Y/n in a way that he could never deny.

Giving in, Y/n looked up at the TARDIS, as if seeing the sky in person. "Orange. This glorious burnt orange. Made the leaves on the trees... glow." His voice caught and he shot up a hand to his face to wipe away a tear. "The day it was actually on fire..." He closed his eyes. "It's so clear in my mind, that day. I wasn't even there." His hands shot to cover his face, his fingers threading through his hair and pulling lightly on the roots. "God I can hear it. I can hear the music and the wind and the laughter and voices. I can feel the sunshine on my skin, Doctor." His hands dropped, head falling forward. "It's so heavy."

The Doctor moved closer, hands resting on either side of Y/n's face. "I can take it away if you want."

"No." Y/n ripped away, leaning back. "I was given this for a reason. I see so much now. I understand so much more. It hurts, but why would you ever let that pain go? It makes you stronger. It teaches you things that make you understand more. I can see things when I look at people who are nothing like me. I can understand a pain I would never have been able to experience on my own, and through that pain I have learned mercy that I should be incapable of. That I would have always been incapable of." He had been looking at the Doctor while he spoke, but now he looked away again, bashful. "There's something special about having the memories of lives you never lived, as a human. You've always said we're special, Doctor. Us humans. I think it's nice, to have the mind closest to a god one can get, while still having the heart of a human."

It was quiet for a long time until Rose moved closer to Y/n, raising her hand to wrap around the back of his neck. She kissed his forehead. "What a trio we are, eh? The human, the alien, and the one who's a little combination of both." She nudged Y/n and they both chuckled.

Y/n looked at the Doctor. "I'm sorry. I know... it's something I wished you had given to me, if I had to be given it at all. I don't know why I got them at all, but I feel like its a super invasion of privacy and-"

"You remember everything?" Was all he asked.

Y/n swallowed. "Every single detail of your life until the whole Bad Wolf thing."

The Doctor moved rather suddenly, forcing Rose to move backward as he grabbed Y/n's face and kissed him. Suddenly Y/n's mind exploded with memories, both his own and the Doctor's. He saw himself tripping over himself as he ran through an empty street, too young to be on his own but in that situation anyway. Not sure where to go or what to do, but knowing that he couldn't stop running. A little older and running again, but this time in different clothes, a small dog at his side. Laughter rang through the dark street that was teasing a sun rise. Suddenly he was much younger and making his parents breakfast because they'd had a rough night and were both super hung over; the left side of his face still hurt, and his body was tired from the rough sleep he'd barely gotten. Older again, leaning against a wall, near a fire contained in a trashcan, as a pretty blonde girl approached him with wide eyes full of worry. A few months later, as they sat at the edge of a pond, talking and laughing. She had brought him food and was complaining about how lame school was, until he told her how behind school he was. The months that came after with her teaming up with tutors to teach him all the important things he'd missed, giving him a place to stay and a job where she worked by vouching for him. Celebrating his eighteenth birthday with her by his side, and realizing that night that he was in love with her because seeing her at the side of someone else made his blood boil. More recent things, right before the Doctor had met them, where Y/n rolled his eyes and had sass offs with Mickey, who could never quite keep up with him. Things that happened so incredibly long ago, from the days that were fuzzy but distantly warm, before his parents took the road that lead them to destruction. Days that were freezing cold as he clung to the clothes he had in some attempt to keep warm. Running for his life when he got caught stealing. Learning how to do it better over time. Dodging police and orphanages for years. The few times he'd been caught, and had a small reprieve of shelter and promised food and clothes before he had to leave the orphanage, or his short stay in juvey ended.

When the two men leaned away from each other, Y/n was crying. The Doctor rested his forehead on Y/n's, pulling him close. They didn't say anything for a long time. Rose reached out and placed her hand on Y/n's shoulder, and he pulled her in to make it a hug with her sandwiched between them. The two men squeezed until Rose was half giggling and half screaming at them and only then did they let her go.

"So," Y/n sighed, shifting gears. "Where do you guys wanna go next?"

This is where the Doctor took charge. "I have an idea. Here, help me - pull that thing over there."

Y/n and the Doctor zipped around. It was so much easier with help - Y/n didn't know how the Timelord had done it all these years. Even now it was chaotic... they landed fine enough though, and soon Mickey was joining them in the control room and Y/n felt guilty for having forgotten to go and get him when the conversation had shifted. He needed to be better to the man - being around your ex and her new boyfriends was bad enough, but the others were accidentally sending signals that Mickey wasn't wanted and it was an extra sting the boy didn't need.

Making a promise silently to himself, Y/n moved to Mickey's side when the TARDIS landed. "First time out and about with the Doctor is always a little bit of a shock. You won't have it so bad since you've gotten a taste of it before, but still. Having aliens come to you is a lot different than you coming to them, so brace yourself."

Mickey puffed up his chest and Y/n swallowed the urge to roll his eyes. "I'll be fine, but thanks for the concern, Captain." They all went outside, and Y/n kept an eye on Mickey as the man took in his first non-Earth alien experience. "It's a spaceship," Mickey squeaked, and Y/n tried to make his grin less teasing and more excited. He was after all rather enthusiastic to go wandering in unknown territory. "Brilliant! I got a spaceship on my first go."

Rose was less excited. "Looks kind of abandoned. Anyone on board?" Y/n realized that she was concerned for the people who should be here, and Y/n found his heart swelling. What a good woman.

"Nah. nothing here," the Doctor answered. He made a weird face then corrected, "Well, nothing dangerous." Y/n rose an eyebrow. "Well, not that dangerous." Y/n scoffed in amusement, shaking his head. This man... "You know what, I'll just have a quick scan. In case there's anything dangerous."

That reminded Y/n of Jack Harkness, back in the days before the man who the Doctor was now. When they'd first met the infamous Captain Jack, and Rose had teased about how official he was with his scanning for alien tech. That made him sad to think about though. Jack had died the day Y/n had. He wondered what things would be like if Jack had been brought back with him. Someone to lift this burden off of his shoulders. The fear of forever, where nothing ever lasts long enough. In the span of eternity, it would be nice to have a friend who could be by your side through it all.

The others talked as the lights came on but Y/n began to walk away from them, taking in all the new things and searching the Doctor's memory to see if he knew what this was. To his surprise, he didn't. Y/n turned back, moving to the others once again. "This feels wrong," he said.

The Doctor nodded. "Honestly, had some cowboys in here. Been a ton of repair work going on." He dropped a piece of equipment, using his now free hand to point at a screen. "Now if you really want to talk about odd, look at that. All the warp engines are going." His eyebrows came together. "Full capacity." He planted a hand on the desk, leaning on it, his other hand going to his waist. "That's enough power running through the ship to punch a hole in the universe..." He looked up.

"But we're not moving," Y/n pointed out. Suddenly there was something in the back of his mind, poking at him. It was a small bother, as if someone tiny was trying to get his attention at the corner of his vision. He couldn't quite put a finger on it though.

Nodding, the Doctor looked at Y/n. Finally they saw each other for what they both were. No secrets. What sat in Y/n's eyes still scared the Timelord, but it was a relief too. Maybe Y/n would understand him, as much as a human could understand. "The question is then, where's all that power going?"

"Where'd all the crew go?" Rose piped up, reminding the others in the room once again that there was no one on board a ship. One that they all now knew was at full thrusters and should be shooting through reality itself, but was standing still anyway.

"Good question," the Doctor complimented. "No life readings on board." He began to mess with the controls.

Rose sighed. "Well we're in deep space. They didn't just nip out for a quick smoke."

"Nope," the Doctor agreed. "I've checked all the smoking pods."

Y/n reached over, placing his hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "Doctor..." It had just clicked what had been bothering him. "That smell?"

Everyone took a good whiff. "Smells like someone's cooking." Rose placed her hands on her hips, looking like she was about to tell someone off for having fire indoors.

"Sunday roast, definitely," Mickey agreed.

Hitting a button in his fiddling, the Doctor hit a switch that opened a panel behind them. They turned and began walking into a new room. One that had... a fireplace. Odd. "Well." The Doctor slipped his hands in his pockets. "That's not something you see on your average spaceship." Y/n got excited, finally able to learn and explore, and took off to get a closer look. It seemed he had done so at the exact same second the Doctor had so they were side by side as the Doctor continued, "18th century French. Nice mantle." He took out his sonic screwdriver as Y/n ran his hands along the wood, feeling the detail and leaning close to get a good look.

"It's beautiful workmanship," Y/n whispered, in awe.

"Not a hologram either," the Doctor tagged on, after checking the thing with his screwdriver then slipping the tool back into his coat.

Something dawned on Y/n and his eyes widened. "And this isn't a replica, is it?" He looked at the Doctor, eyebrows raised.

"No," the Doctor agreed. "This is actually an 18th-century French fireplace."

Y/n narrowed his eyes. "Well how is that possible? In so much time passed, the only way this thing is in such good condition is if it was fairly new, or untouched. It would have gotten scuffed or broken, needed replacements in all that time." He jerked. "Could they be time travelers?"

"You know as much as I do," the Doctor answered. And it was true. Time travel wasn't a common thing. It wasn't technology the Timelords had shared with anyone else. It was highly unlikely at best, and even if that was the case, why would someone take a mantle out of time and use it to decorate a ship? There were better and far more easily accessed things. There was a second of silence as the two men searched for clues until the Doctor drew in a sharp breath. "It's double-sided. There's another room through there."

"It can't be," Rose contradicted as the Doctor kneeled down. Y/n followed him and the two leaned against each other to make room for both of them. "That's the outer hull of the ship," Rose continued. She was looking out a window. "Look." At her command, Mickey moved closer to her to inspect.

Suddenly, there was a child on the other side of the fireplace. The Doctor smiled. "Hello."

"Hello?" the small girl replied, obviously unsure. Y/n waved politely. She nodded in return.

"What's your name?" the Doctor asked.

"Reinette," the girl responded. Y/n was surprised by the child's willingness to share infomration. It was rather helpful, but still dangerous since she didn't know them.

"Reinette," the Doctor smiled. "That's a lovely name. Can you tell me where you are at the moment, Reinette?" Mickey and Rose crouched between Y/n and the Doctor, trying to see what was going on. Rose gasped quietly.

That seemed to confuse the girl. "In my bedroom?" she offered slowly.

"And where's your bedroom?" the Doctor clarified. "Where do you live, Reinette?"

"Paris of course," Reinette responded, shaking her head slightly. Y/n wanted to say somethingm but the Doctor had it handled and the child was probably a little overwhelmed with a bunch of strange people looking at her. Having more than one of them talk to her at a time might be overwhelming and could scare her off.

"Paris, right." The Doctor grinned, shaking his head, playing off that he was just silly or confused and not the truth, which was much harder to explain.

The girl seemed to have questions of her own. "Monsieur, what are you doing in my fireplace?"

"Oh it's just a routine... fire check," the Doctor lied on the fly. Y/n shook his head, trying to hide his smile. "Can you tell me what year it is?" the Doctor asked quickly, trying to cover up the obvious lie. "Can you tell me what year it is?"

"Of course I can," Reinette answered. She smiled, amused by the funny man in her fireplace. "1727."

Well that explained the fireplace. At least, where they got it. "Right, lovely, one of my favorites."

"You say that for every time," Y/n finally spoke up. "They're all your favorite."

"Well, yeah," the Doctor relented. "I will say, August of this year though is a bit rubbish, though. Stay indoors." He perked up. "Okay. That's all for now. Thanks for your help. Hope you enjoy the rest of the fire. Night night."

"Goodnight, Monsieur," was all Reinette said in reply. They all stood, facing each other away from the fireplace.

"You said this was the 51st-century," Micky reminded rather bitterly.

"I also said the ship was generating enough energy to punch a hole in the universe," the Doctor shot back immediately. "I think we just found the hole." They all looked back at the fireplace. "Must be a spatio-temporal hyperlink," he continued to himself.

"What's that?" Mickey asked.

"He made it up," Y/n scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"I didn't want to say magic door," the Doctor complained in response.

Rose tried a go at this whole thing. "And on the other side of the "magic door" it's France in 1727?"

"Well." the Doctor tilted his head. "She was speaking French. Right period French, too."

"No, she was speaking English. I heard her." Mickey's eyebrows were so pushed together his confusion seemed to turn to anger.

"No the TARDIS translates languages so wherever we go, we understand what everyone is saying," Rose explained eagerly, always happy to have her turn knowing what's going on. Her excitement was cute. They were a clever bunch, them. Well not Mickey, but the rest of them.

That was a rude thought. Perhaps the Doctor was rubbing off on Y/n a little more than he'd thought.

"Even French?" Mickey asked.

Y/n replied, "Obviously," at the same time that Rose gave a much kinder, more patient response of, "Yep." She nudged him and he smiled, playing innocent. They began migrating back toward the mantle, and Y/n crouched down, looking through the fire. Rose and Mickey were stepped back as Mickey tried to process the TARDIS when suddenly the floor began to move.

The Doctor had found a lever, and with victory, he pulled it. "Gotchya!" That's what made the floor move, as like a false bookcase in a murder mystery story, the whole thing spun so they were on the other side of the mantle, in the room where Reinette had been. Except... they didn't mean Mickey and Rose, because they'd been too far. Only by coincidence had Y/n managed to be close enough that when the thing turned, he had gone with the Doctor.

Y/n stood, eyes wide as he looked around the room with awe. He went to say something, but then his eyes landed on Reinette, who was asleep in bed. She looked sound asleep too, despite being wide awake and moving around and talking just seconds ago. Y/n and the Doctor exchanged wide looks. They both slowly moved further into the room, the Doctor going to the window to look outside and Y/n moving around to inspect the make of the room and attempt to take a peak outside the door into the hallway.

Attempt was the word, because before he could actually do it, Reinette awoke with a gasp, sitting up in bed with wide eyes. The Doctor rushed to calm her. "It's okay! Don't scream. It's me. It's fireplace man." Y/n shot him a look, but it seemed to work. Did this child have no survival instincts at all? Two grown, strange men creeping around her bedroom at night while she slept and she's calm the second she sees the Doctor?

Well, actually, that made sense. There was a sense that one could always trust the Doctor. The same went for Y/n, but for different reasons. The Doctor was the kind of person you hid behind and trusted to run out into battle and protect you. Even if he wasn't by your side, you knew you were safe. Y/n was the kind of person who never left your side. He held your hand and comforted you and gave the sense that he would take a bullet for you while holding you in his arms, his back to the danger and you completely safe from it. Together they were quite calming. The Doctor knew what he was doing, and nothing could stop him from figuring it out and destroying it. Y/n knew less, but was far more ready to put himself in harm's way, and nothing would ever get to you as long as he was there to stand in danger's way.

The Doctor moved to the candle on Reinette's dresser, using his sonic screwdriver to light the candle and cast light in the room so the girl in bed could see him. Her eyes moved from him quickly though to Y/n. "And his friend," she told herself. It didn't seem to e something she meant to say aloud.

"Yes." the Doctor began to change, becoming softer and warmer. It was something he did only for children. It showed that huge, soft heart of his he tried to protect - even from Rose who couldn't always see through his guise because she didn't know what Y/n did. Children had always made him like this. More human. Less logical and curious and detached and more emotional. Closer. Y/n tried not to think about the time that had been most true, with his own children. How that had become so painful for him after they were gone, but how it had never gone away because he just couldn't help himself. The Doctor spoke again, knocking Y/n out of his thoughts. "We were talking, the three of us, just a moment ago. We were in your fireplace."

The girl shook her head. "Monsieur, that was weeks ago. That was months."

The Doctor looked at Y/n, who was just as surprised. Hadn't it been just seconds ago for them? "Really?" the brunette asked as he turned back to the child. He rose a hand to tug on his ear - a tell that he was caught off guard and uncomfortable. He really was a terrible liar. He turned away from her, going back to the mantle. He kneeled down, knocking on it. "Must be a loose connection. We need to get someone in here."

"Wait Doctor-" Y/n moved closer as well, a startling thought hitting him. "If time passes like that over here, do you think it's just that time is different on either side? I mean, its been seconds since we left Rose and Mickey for us but..."

Before they could brain map that out, or go back, Reinette spoke again. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The Doctor didn't answer though. He froze a second, and then his eyes slowly drifted back toward the mantle, away from the little girl, landing on the clock. Y/n wasn't sure what he was seeing, but he looked anyway, hoping it would click immediately. "Okay, that's scary," the Doctor muttered.

"You're scared of a broken clock?" Reinette asked with slight sass. Y/n was starting to like this kid.

Amusement didn't seem to be in the cards for the Doctor right now though. With all seriousness he responded, "Just a bit scared, yeah. Just a little tiny bit. Cause you see, if this clock's broken, and it's the only clock in the room..." He looked around to affirm and Y/n followed his gaze.

And that was when he heard it. He looked back at the clock on the mantle to be sure, and saw the hands were still, frozen in place. But if that was the case... "What's making that ticking noise?" It was half a question, and half a resolution as he realized what path the Doctor had gone down.

"Definitely not a clock," the Doctor provided like an answer, even though it was phrased as if continuing a sentence that Y/n had just supplied a part of. "You can tell by the resonance. Too big." He began walking away from the mantle and Y/n stayed close. Not to hide behind the Doctor as most people were happy to do, but because he was making sure the Doctor was okay - just as he always stayed close to keep people safe. "Six feet I'd say," the Doctor continued. "The size of a man."

"What is it?" Reinette asked, beginning to grow panicked.

The Doctor began to move to one side of the bed, nodding Y/n to go the other way. Only then did the men part. "Now let's think." the Doctor was all business now, taking control of a situation and figuring out the threat. It calmed Reinette as it did earlier, to see the two men to actually be who they seemed to be. Without the Doctor to watch, Y/n moved closer to Reinette, looking around the room, his body coiled to fight if necessary. "If you were a thing that ticked and you were hiding in someone's bedroom, first thing you do: break the clock. No one notices the sound of one clock ticking, but two?" He hesitated a while and Y/n felt a chill in his spine. "You might start to wonder if you were really alone. He began to kneel, looking under the bed, and Y/n moved to block the other side. The thing still might escape at the end, but the less places it had to go, the better. Y/n stayed on his feet, still ready to run or tackle something if he had to. "Stay in the middle of the bed," the Doctor instructed Reinette. "Hands and feet close by."

The Doctor looked under the bed. There was the soft whirring of the sonic screwdriver, and long silence that held far too much tension.

Suddenly, a hand shot out and the trio jumped, eyes going wide. Y/n watched the Doctor to make sure he was okay, still planted in place if the thing tried to run.

Unfortunately, the thing did run, but it moved incredibly fast. It was out from under the bed and standing next to Y/n within seconds, and all Y/n could do was stand there as the thing wrapped a hand around his throat. He went stiff, eyes wide. The Doctor moved slowly from being on the ground to raising from the floor at a snail's pace, eyes trained on the thing that was currently holding Y/n in a very compromising position.

"Reinette," the Doctor whispered softly, looking at the small girl who was facing him instead of the thing that had Y/n. "Don't look round." As she had been all night, the girl was obedient. "You." The Doctor's voice had changed as he directed the thing holding Y/n. "Stay exactly where you are. Unless of course you could be so kind as to let my partner there go." His words were polite, but his tone was dark. He was not asking. If anything, his words were a threat. The thing didn't move, either to let Y/n go or to hurt him, so the Doctor hesitated, looking at Reinette again. His face changed and he kneeled down again, but this time to grab Reinette's face with both of his hands. Y/n knew what he was doing, and he relaxed. As much as Reinette was fine with sitting there and listening to every word the Doctor told her, Y/n was the same. Both of them trusted the Doctor completely, and if he didn't think Y/n was in any real danger enough to address it, he wasn't.

"What is it?" Y/n asked softly, taking in the expression of the man now looking at Reinette like she had an arm attached to the side of her head.

"You've been scanning her brain." It was an answer, but mostly an accusation, and it was targeted at the clockwork man holding Y/n. "You've crossed two galaxies and thousands of years just to scan a child's brain? What could there be in a little girl's mind worth blowing a hole in the universe?" He let Reinette go, standing tall again.

"You've done it now," Y/n mumbled, finding himself grinning.

"I don't understand." Reinette hadn't spoken in a while, but in all that time she hadn't lost much worry, even if her fear was satiated. She was safe while the Doctor was here, but why did she need his protection at all? She turned now, looking at the clockwork thing. "You want me?"

The clockwork man looked at her - the first time it had shown any sign of thought since moving out from under the bed. In a robotic drawl, it answered. "Not yet. You are incomplete." Its hands tightened around Y/n's throat and his eyes fluttered closed as he took in his a labored breath to feed his brain air as much he could.

"Let him go!" Reinette screamed. Unlike when the Doctor had threatened the automaton immediately let go of Y/n, who dropped to his knees, gasping.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" the Doctor asked.

"I'm fine," Y/n rasped, not moving from his spot on the floor. "Keep that brain of yours working, that's what we need right now."

The Doctor hesitated, but obliged. His eyes moved to the automaton. "You said she was incomplete. What does that mean?" The thing didn't respond, and the Doctor got irritated. "You can answer her, you can answer me," he demanded. "What do you mean, incomplete?" He brought up his screwdriver and the thing responded, but not how it had been asked to. Instead, it moved around Y/n on the floor and to the other side of the bed, raising its own arm and extending a blade to press against the Doctor's throat just as threateningly.

"Monsieur be careful!" Reinette begged, worry in her eyes.

"It's just a nightmare, Reinette," the Doctor assured. "Don't worry about it."

Y/n forced himself to his feet. "Doctor," he croaked, afraid to move and startle the thing, but feeling his stress rise at seeing the Doctor in danger. Why couldn't the thing just stay focused on him? Y/n couldn't die. "What you said before, about how it can answer you if it answers her. I mean... she's supposed to be here, we aren't. What if it's not supposed to answer anyone but her?"

The Doctor's eyes widened. That could have been from the way the mechanic thing swung at him though. Y/n surged forward as the Doctor skidded back, the mechanic man following his path. The Doctor kept addressing Reinette, eyes flickering to her as if Y/n hadn't spoken. Y/n realized why when he looked back and noticed her at the edge of her bed, looking ready to cry. "Everyone has nightmares," he told her soothingly. "Even monsters from under the bed have nightmares." he leaned against the mantle, a smirk rising to his face. "Don't you, Monster?" He ducked as the metal weapon swung down at him, missing him and planting firmly in the wood of the mantle instead, sticking and leaving the clockwork machine helpless and unmoving. Y/n met the Doctor, immediately going to check that he was okay.

Reinette interrupted the scene. "What do monsters have nightmares about?" She asked. There was another question in her eyes as she looked between the Doctor and Y/n, but not one she could find words for, so she left it there instead.

The Doctor grinned at that question though, fueled by being able to answer. "Me," he told her as he leaned against the lever that turned the wall again and took the clockwork man, the Doctor, and Y/n all back back over to the ship side of this situation, leaving Reinette in her room alone.

To Y/n's relief, it seemed that neither Rose nor Mickey had moved since they'd been here last. "Doctor!" Rose exclaimed, going to run forward and greet him, but then stopping short when she saw the man clock. The Doctor raced to the side of the room, grabbing one of the guns. Y/n was far out of the way by the time the Timelord turned around, hosing the machine man down with some sort of mist. Y/n realized what had happened when the mist cleared and the clockwork man was silent and still, as if frozen.

"Excellent, ice gun." Mickey looked at the gun with intrigue.

Y/n smirked. "Fire extinguisher actually," he corrected. The Doctor winked, proud of Y/n. He then tossed the gun he was holding to Rose, who caught it and pulled it to her face to take a closer look.

"Where did that thing come from?" Rose asked as she looked at the gun.

"Here." The Doctor slipped his hands into his pockets, his brain racing as usual.

"Why is it dressed like that then?" Mickey seemed to disbelieve as usual.

"Well you can't go around somewhere you don't want to be noticed if you don't blend in," was what Y/n offered.

"Fieldtrip to France," the Doctor followed up. "Some kind of camouflage protocol." He began to walk toward the thing. "Nice needle work. Shame about the face." He pushed the mask off, knocking it to the floor to reveal the actual head of the thing underneath. What was there was a head-shaped clear, plastic shield that rested overtop clockwork, all made of gold. The Doctor's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, and Y/n gasped, moving closer rather quickly. "Oh, you are beautiful!" He took out his glasses to get a better look. "No really, you are. Look at that!" he looked at Y/n, his eyes full of admiration. Y/n's eyes were trained on the clockwork, but he felt the Doctor's gaze and nodded in silent awe. "Space age clockwork. I love it. I've got chills! Listen, seriously, I mean this from the heart - and by the way, count those - it would be a crime, it would be an act of vandalism, to disassemble you..."

Y/n snorted. "Since when has that ever stopped you?"

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. "Not even once," he admitted. "And it won't stop me now." There was a split second, as if the thing was realizing how dangerous the Doctor was, and then it split into lots of pieces and was sucked up and away. "Short range teleport, can't have gone far. Could still be on board," the Doctor explained as he turned away, back to the mantle. "

"What is it?" Rose demanded.

"Don't go looking for it!" was all the Doctor offered in response. Y/n knew it was because the Timelord had no idea, and he hated to admit that most of the time.

"Well where are you going?" Rose shot back.

"Can I come with you?" Y/n asked, realizing the Doctor was headed back to Reinette's room.

The Doctor shook his head. "I need you to keep an eye on these two. We both know how far what I tell them to do goes." Then he hit the lever and the wall turned and he was gone.

There was only a second before Rose was ready to go off and do exactly what she'd been told not to, just as the Doctor predicted. "He said not to go look for it," Mickey reminded.

Y/n turned around, his face stern, to see Rose grinning smugly. "Yeah, he did." She looked at Y/n, daring him to stop her.

He always did as the Doctor asked, as he did now, and she knew it. "Come on Rose, it's dangerous and we have no idea what we're up a-" He had been walking toward her to stop her, but when he got close enough she grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down into a rather heated kiss. She leaned away too soon for Y/n to be satisfied, leaving him reeling instead.

"You were saying?" As she winked at Y/n, Mickey grabbed another one of the guns off of where the Doctor grabbed the first one, and returned to Rose. "Now you've got it," she complimented. Then she turned around and began trekking down the hall and Y/n was completely helpless to stop her.

"Wait!" He squeaked, trying to orient himself. But it was too late, and he groaned before jogging after them. Why was it always up to him to keep them in check? They never listened anyway!

Mickey went the fast way, zooming past all the important stuff as he tried to look cool with his rolls and tiptoeing. Rose followed after him, looking around corners at least and walking normally, keeping an eye out for danger. Y/n dragged at last, paying attention to everything he could without being slow enough for Rose to get out of his sight. At one point Mickey made some sound of alarm and the other two moved to him. "Look at this," he told them. "That's an eye in there. That's a real eye."

And, unfortunately, he was right. In some sort of camera, where the lense would be was what looked to be just a human eye. Something or the sort at least - it seemed to be close to human in structure. Y/n moved closer and the thing zipped away.

"That's not good," Y/n said softly. "Ships don't have eyes attached to things that should be mechanic - living parts and machinery don't mix."

Rose caught his attention again by opening a hatch lower down the wall and leaning down. Mickey leaned down with her, peering into the hole behind the hatch. "What is that? There in the middle, it looks like it's wired in." Y/n couldn't see cause there was no room to get a vantage point, so he stayed back.

Rose answered for him. "It's a heart, Mickey. It's a human heart." They leaned away, and Rose looked at Y/n. "You've never seen anything like this before? Or the Doctor?"

Y/n's expression was grim as he looked around the ship, feeling his stomach turn as he began to put something together he didn't like. "No. Like I said, organic matter and machinery have never combined well. The metal bits would get too hot eventually and..." he swallowed, turning away. "Never mind. If you two are set on wandering around, we shall continue with that." And without another word he surged forward, hands in pockets and refusing to answer.

Rose tried to pressure him but after a while of not a single word for him, the trip grew silent. Until Mickey spoke up again. "Maybe it wasn't a real heart." Safely out of sight, Y/n allowed himself to roll his eyes.

"Of course it was a real heart." That cake from Rose, and she sounded as irritated as Y/n felt.

Mickey didn't seem to like that. Neither did Y/n, but one didn't deal with things they liked by ignoring them or trying to push them away or deny their existence. You had to accept the bad things as reality in order to conquer them. "Is this normal for you guys? Is this an average day?"

"Not this specifically," Y/n answered softly.

"There aren't really average days for anything though," Rose added. "Not with the Doctor. You don't ever really adjust to this stuff."

Y/n reached what seemed to be a window into a room that looked like it came from Reinette's time. He leaned closer, trying to look in. Rose and Mickey caught up with him. "It's France again. We can see France." Y/n glared And tried not to aim it at Mickey. If the man made one more obvious statement Y/n might implode.

"I think we're looking in a mirror." Rose seemed to be handling this better than Y/n, though not by much.

Some people walked in and Y/n watched, trying to read their lips. That wasn't one of the things he knew though, even with the odd things he'd accidentally picked up from the Doctor - like sticking his hands in his pockets when he didn't know what to do with them. "Who's this guy?" Mickey scoffed as they watched.

"The king of France." Y/n was surprised to hear the Doctor's voice, but relieved too.

"Oh," Rose drawled teasingly. "Here's trouble. What have you been up to?"

"This and that," was all they got. "Became the imaginary friend of a future French aristocrat. Got in a fight with a clockwork man - Reinette asked where you were by the way, Y/n."

"Take me next time then," Y/n shot jokingly.

"Might as well, you obviously can't keep these two where they're supposed to be like I asked," the Doctor shot back.

"Since when has anything been able to stop Rose Tyler?" Y/n defended himself.

That made the Doctor smile. "Fair point." there was suddenly a neigh from a horse as the white animal turned the corner. "Did I mention I made friends with a horse?"

Once again Mickey came in with the worst question. "What's a horse doing on a spaceship?"

The Doctor came back with irritation that made Y/n feel pleased. "Mickey, what's pre-revolutionary France doing on a spaceship? Get a little perspective." Y/n snorted. "See these?" He pointed to the mirror, turning attention to that instead so Mickey has to room to reply back. "They're all over the spaceship, on every deck. Gateways to history." A woman walked in the room, and Y/n tilted his head. She seemed familiar somehow. "But not just any old history," the Doctor continued. "Hers."

That's when it clicked. "That's Reinette?" Y/n asked in surprise. The Doctor nodded. He had a soft look in his eyes that made Y/n raise his eyebrows. The brunette felt the other's man gaze and turned to look, only to look away again very quickly when Y/n smirked. He was about to tease when the Doctor continued, a little more awkward this time.

"A time window. Deliberately arranged along the life of one particular woman. A spaceship from the 51st century stalking a woman from the 18th." He shook his head. "Why?"

"Who is she?" Rose inquired.

"Jean-Antionette Poisson," the Doctor replied. Y/n rose his eyebrows. French Mamés were so fancy. "Known to her friends as Reinette. One of the most accomplished women who ever lived." So that's why he was so into her.

"So she's got plans to be the Queen then?" Rose asked next, watching the way Reinette smiled at the King.

"No he's already got a Queen," the Doctor told her. "She's got plans of being his mistress."

Y/n's eyes went wide. "I'm worry, are we talking about- oh my stupid human brain, we're talking about THE Madame de Pompadour?" Y/n hissed, his eyebrows coming together in surprise.

The Doctor grinned. "Only and only!"

Y/n snorted. "You're just a man after all," he teased. Rose and Mickey both realized the Doctor's infatuation then too, Rose scowling and Mickey snickering quietly to himself.

The Doctor however, decided to ignore his comment. "I think this is the night they met. The night of the Yew Tree Ball. In no time flat she'll get herself established as his official mistress with her own rooms at the palace, even her own title. Madame de Pompredour, as Y/n so kindly recalled earlier."

Reinette moved toward the mirror, fixing herself, but looking straight at the four people she didn't know were looking back. "Queen must have loved her," Rose snarked quietly. Y/n silently thought that she was rather beautiful - a notice that had probably been what had made Rose think of that in the first place. He noticed the way the blonde looked at Reinette, and then took a peek at the Doctor. Y/n internally sighed. This girl and her jealousy...

"Yeah, they were actually really good friends," the Doctor stated in response to what she'd said.

"The Kong's wife and the Kong's girlfriend?" Mickey scoffed. When he said girlfriend, he looked directly at Y/n, and Y/n felt his anger rise.

"France," the Doctor dismissed. "Different planet." Suddenly he froze, and Y/n looked back through the mirror to see Reinette turning around, facing a man that was looking away from her. The thing turned and-

At the same time the Doctor and Y/n both lurched forward, pushing the mirror so it turned as the wall had at the mantle before, surging into the room as one. At some point he must have grabbed one of the guns because he suddenly hosed the thing down with it, freezing it as he had the one from before. Except this one... was working against that frost.

"Fireplace man," Reinette shouted in surprise. She then saw Y/n and grinned. "And he's brought his friend this time." Y/n tipped his head in greeted and she gave a small courtsey in response.

"What's it doing?" Mickey asked, in reference to the whirring sound coming from the clockwork man.

"Working its gears, trying to heat the ice." The Doctor tossed the gun back to Rose, who it seemed he'd stolen it from in the first place.

"And what happens then?" Mickey continued.

"It kills everyone in the room," the Doctor answered with a frown. Just then the arm of the clockwork man shot forward, hand reaching to choke the Doctor as it had once tried to choke Y/n. The Doctor was expecting it though, and was faster to react, jetting out of the way before it could succeed. "Focuses The mind, doesn't it?" He stared at the machine with authority. "Who are you?" He demanded. "Identify yourself." The thing only tilted its head.

Y/n stepped forward. "Remember before, Doctor? In Reinette's room?"

The Timelord nodded. "Right." He looked at Reinette. "Order it to answer me."

That seemed to confuse her though. "Why should it answer to me?"

"I don't know," he offered honestly. "But it did when you were a child." He looped around, moving to stand behind her, leaning in to whisper into her ear. "Let's see if you've still got it." Y/n smirked to himself. What a damn flirt.

Reinette turned to the living machine. "Answer his question," she ordered. "Answer any and all questions put to you."

The machine lowered its arm. "I am repair droid seven."

"And what happened to the ship?" The Doctor asked. "That's a lot of damage."

Y/n sucked in a breath and for a second, all eyes except the driod's turned to him. He looked at the machine though as it answered, "Ion storm, 82% failure."

"What did you find out, Y/n?" The Doctor pressed. So Y/n stepped forward, hoping he was wrong.

"The ship hasn't moved in a long while, hasn't it?" Y/n asked softly. "It's taken you a while to fix it - why?"

"We did not have the parts," the machine answered.

"You didn't have the parts you needed to fix your ship?" Y/n's voice was beginning to taint with horror, and the others looked at him with pre confusion, unsure as to what he was getting at. "So you're stuck in the middle of nowhere, ship broken down, no way to move, without the parts you need, and you had to do something." Y/n shook his head. "Why here and now? Why Reinette? What are you looking for here?"

"We did not have the parts," was all the machine answered.

So Y/n changed his question. "What part are you looking for?"

"What?" The Doctor couldn't make sense of that question. "They couldn't be looking for any parts here - it wouldnt make any sense at all. What about the crew?"

Again, the machine answered, "We didn't have the parts."

Y/n sighed, closing his eyes. "We found a camera with an eye in it. A heart, wired into the ship." He opened his eyes again, looking at the Doctor. "They didn't have the parts, so they used what was available to them."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "They used the crew." The others gawked, except Y/n who had known since they'd seen everything before. "It's just doing what it was programmed to do. Using whatever it can, wherever it can find it. No one told them the crew wasn't on the menu. What did you say the flight deck smelled of?"

Rose was stunned, her eyes glossing over as she remembered what she'd said then, and how it must have connected in Y/n's mind later. "Someone cooking." Her answer came with detached horror.

"Like I said. Machinery and organic material- they don't mix." Y/n's eyes dropped to the ground.

"Flesh plus heat," the Doctor added on. "Barbecue." A heavy silence fell, but the Doctor had never been good with silences so he didn't let it settle. "But what are you doing- oh!" He looked at Y/n, then back to the machine. "You're here for a part."

"One more part is required," the machine responded in confirmation.

The Doctor's voice dropped. "Why haven't you taken it?"

"She is not complete," the machine responded. Y/n remembered that it said the same thing that night in Reinette's bedroom.

"What so that's the plan then?" The Doctor jerked back in half mocking disbelief. It was a ridiculous plan, to be fair. "Open up more and more time windows and scanning her brain, checking to see if she's done yet?"

Then Rose jumped in with a brilliant question. "Why her?" She asked. "You've got all of history to choose from- why specifically her?"

"I mean The Doctor said it didn't he?" He realized before the machine could respond. "The most successful woman in history. Brilliant, and incredibly accomplished. I mean, the Doctor could probably go on for years about all she's been able to do. Her mind - her brain, the part they need - it's... I mean sorry if this sounds bad, but it's brilliant. They had to choose someone. Why not her?"

The machine looked at Y/n. "We are the same," It agreed.

"The same?" Reinette spat. "We are not the same! We are in no such way the same!" She panicked, and before anyone could stop her she ordered the thing, "Get out of here this instant!" It disappeared and Y/n ran into the ship, looking around the corner. It was gone though. The Doctor yelled something and Rose and Mickey took off running.

Before Y/n could join then the Doctor called, "Y/n, stay with me!" So Y/n turned around and reentered the room with Reinette and the Doctor. He closed the mirror, realizing it was actually a window instead. He left the other two to do their thing as he turned to the wall, looking at the decorations with a close eye. He felt the need to soak it all in, and whatever the Doctor was doing he didn't actually need Y/n's help, otherwise he would have called him over.

He heard their flirting as the Doctor looked into Reinette's mind, and he rolled his eyes at their antics. That was... until Reinette said something that shocked both of the men in the room. "Oh Doctor, such a lonely childhood." Y/n turned. "So, so lonely. Lonely then, and even lonelier now."

"What are you talking about?" The Doctor asked. "You've never been lonely once in your life." Suddenly he jerked back. "Since when did you start calling me Doctor?"

She just looked back at him. "A door once opened can be stepped through in either direction." She stepped up to him. "Oh Doctor. My lonely Doctor." She was so beautiful, and she looked at him with so much love. She'd said he was lonely... only then did Y/n fully understand Rose's jealousy. Was he not enough? "Dance with me," she asked. Y/n turned and moved away, through the window and into the ship, walking back to the flight deck and to the mantle to cool off. He was suddenly angry, and all that ever did was cloud his mind. The Doctor needed him sharp - feelings couldn't get in the way. How could he ever blame anyone for falling in love with the Doctor? Hadn't he done it himself? His eyes found the mantle, and he drifted toward it, pulling the lever. He ended up in Reinette's room. Or... her old room he supposed. He heard footsteps, many footsteps, and ducked behind a curtain.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed to be a very bad time. The room was being emptied, and it seemed that the mantle was going now. Which meant... there was no way back. He peeked our, trying to think, and was immediately spotted. "Y/n." He looked over in surprise to see Reinette of all people. He slipped out, a stiff smile on his face.

"Hello, Reinette."

She seemed to sense his slight disdain. "I'm sorry for that night. I remember - that was the last time I saw you. I saw you two in his head, and I... well, I didn't realize until later when he was leaving. What it meant, and why you left. I'm very sorry." Y/n slipped his hands in his pockets. The other people in the room seemed to hesitate, but then left when the two seemed casual enough. Only one man stood outside the room in order to give them privacy of sort while also making sure Reinette stayed safe. "Have You two had time to talk? I don't know what happens on your dude of things."

Y/n shook his head. "Back there... there's kind of not much time. I mean, where I come from... well it's a bit complicated."

She looked at the mantle, then back. "Do you need to go soon?"

Y/n sighed. "You broke the connection, and I can't fix it from this side. The Doctor will be here soon I'm sure. Until then, if you want to ask, I'm more than happy to answer. I... I think I need some air. Just a bit maybe."

She smiled. "Wonderful."

-

Three years. Y/n did not age, as he had long since stopped doing, but Reinette did. The two became very good friends, and she kept him a secret from other people. They got attached to each other, but even if they hadn't it wouldn't have mattered. For some reason The exists that he knew weren't working. He couldn't figure out how to get back onto the ship. So he waited for the Doctor - the long route, just like everyone else. He had to say, he didn't mind it. Sticking by Reinette's side was kind of refreshing. When he drew a line she knew to withdraw, but otherwise they talked about everything - and they especially bonded over their deep feelings for the Doctor.

Over time, Y/n adjusted to life in France. It was odd, and he tried to stay away from people and out of any news or such as much as he could because it all confused him and he was worried about changing too much, but for the most part it was fine. He became Reinette's footman - a thing that had been a bit of scandal for a while, but nothing too big as it had been written off as her secret brother or cousin or something. It was too clear too soon that they weren't lovers, and that was what mattered.

Even Y/n and the King got along. It was the day that the King had asked for his company riding horses that Y/n returned to a frantic Reinette. "Those friends of yours just turned up and said in five years they're returning. The clockwork men. I..." She slouched in disappointment. "You weren't here. I tried the entrance again after they left, but it was suddenly locked like all the others. I- I'm so sorry Y/n, I forgot to tell them about you. There was so much going on-"

"No worries my lady," Y/n dismissed. "This way I'll be right by your side when those things come. It's the best place to be really." He smiled and after a second, so did she.

And so five more years passed.

It had been eight years without the Doctor, and Y/n had matured a lot. He'd been allowed his own room to breathe. Oddly enough, his memories of the TARDIS never faded and he found himself missing the Doctor and Rose and even Mickey. He had found this sort of life nice and refreshing at first, but it was boring now. He had a lot more skills - horse riding and sword fighting and cooking and baking. He had even picked up carving, and had seen lots of history up close and personal. But it wasn't with the two people he loved the most.

There was something that kept him from going back though. A question that stuck stubbornly in the back of his mind.

Did they miss him at all?

Perhaps that wasn't fair. It had been eight years for him, but probably not even an hour for them. A horrible thought occurred to him at one point. They might not have even noticed he was gone yet at all.

That thought was what made him hesitate.

The day came that the clockwork men returned, and Reinette rushed to her mantle to call for the Doctor. When she stood, she turned to Y/n. "What do I do?"

Y/n pressed his lips together. "As the Doctor asked. He will come Reinette, I swear to you. He doesn't break his word. That's not the kind of man he is. He will save you."

She looked at him, noticing easily his wording as they knew each other too well not to notice such vital things. "Will he not rescue you as well? Take you back and await from here?"

Putting his hands in his pockets - a habit he still had, even after all these years - Y/n looked away from her. "May I ask you something? A favor? Something very important to me?"

"Of course," Reinette agreed earnestly.

"When he comes," Y/n began. "Do not tell him of me. Not unless he asks." Reinette was going to argue, but then seemed to see the importance of the second bit and hesitated only a second before nodding. That was when the mechanical men came for her. They took her, and forced Y/n to stay, holding him at needle point in a threat. Reinette assured him that she'd be okay, because the Doctor would come. So Y/b stayed in the room and listened to the door lock, letting him know he was all alone with no way out until this whole thing was over.

So he sat. And he waited.

Until the door opened again, and he ducked for cover just in case. It was not the clockwork men... it was however, the Doctor, who he was just as eager to hide from.

"It's not a replica," Reinette was saying. "It's the exact same one. I had it moved here, and was stern about it being kept in exact detail." She left out the fact that Y/n had suggested it, which made him realize the Doctor had yet to ask about him.

"The fireplace," the Doctor cooed, smiling at the memories the thing brought up. "When did you do this?"

"Many years ago," Reinette answered. "In a hope that a door once opened may be opened again." Y/n pressed into the wall, wishing he could leave. He didn't want to be here for this. "One never quite knows when one needs ones Doctor. Or his friend."

"I'm sorry that Y/n didn't come with me." Y/n tended against the wall. "He was on the other side when I jumped through. Good thing though - he'll be able to get the other two home. So there's that." Wait what?

Reinette hummed in thought. "They are trapped there without at least one of your there?"

The Doctor paused. "Well, yes..."

Without leaving him room to answer, Reinette pressed on. "The mantle appears undamaged. Do you think it'll still work?"

"You broke the bond with the ship when you moved it," the Doctor told her. "Which means it was off line when the mirror broke- probably what saved it. But..." he suddenly moved to the mantle, taking out his screwdriver. It was a sight for sore eyes, and Y/n couldn't handle it. He slipped away, out of the room and away from the Doctor and the mantle and the woman who had become his best friend.

Reinette joined him after a while. "He's gone again, our Doctor." She sighed. "He said he would back in just a moment but..."

"That's The thing with time windows," Y/n sighed. "Time is a fickle thing. Passes different only one side than the other. Seconds to him..."

"Years to us." Reinette nodded. She hesitated a while then turned to Y/n. "Why did you hide? He didn't ask for you because he thinks you're on the ship."

Y/n watched the stars outside, thinking about a life where he'd never see them again. It was a terrible thought. "At first it was jealousy and insecurity. A stupid thing I suppose, but it was meaningful then. The way he loves even people he's just met. The way he loves, but still feels lonely because he refuses himself any joy, even to allow others to love him. It scared me. That say you said he was lonely... you know he shouldn't have been though. He had me, and Rose."

"She won't be around forever," Reinette pointed out.

"But I will." Y/n's voice was raw. "But that wasn't even really the point... I don't know, I just thought- I thought love was a hard thing, so I avoided it for years. It came slow to me - far slower than most people. As much slow to me as it comes fast to the Doctor. I've loved two people my entire life, and now I'm staring eternity in the face with only the possibility of a happy ending with one. And... he's so strange. He's not human, and he's consumed by this loneliness that makes him so hard on the inside. So far away. No matter how far I reach, he is always out of my grasp. I can know, but I do not understand. It puts things between us. I mean- we'd never do well in this life. This slow life. He rarely ever kisses me, and sometimes he ignores me altogether, because he values knowledge above all else and is terrified of love, as much as I used to be." He looked at Reinette again. "What if I'm not meant to be with them? People question my never waning age here, but otherwise I do very well. He would do well without me, just fine. But I will suffer without him. It makes me feel pathetic."

Reinette was quiet a long time. "It is hard for a human to love an angel. I can't imagine playing at having that love returned, never quite sure of how real it is or much it will stick or how long it will last. Playing at a dream, hoping to delay the time until you wake up."

Y/n sighed. "He'll be back one day. Perhaps I will know the answer then."

So they waited, both of them. They waited so long. So many years for such a long time that Reinette died before the Doctor came back. When he did, Y/n stood outside in a suit in the rain, watching the carriage go with her body inside, heading off to be buried. Y/n watched, and he decided that after all these years this was the moment that proved to him all the pain and insecurity and hesitation and not being quite sure was all worth it. The danger didn't matter. Neither did the slight loneliness. Because when one loves an angel, and that glorious being dared attempt to return such affection, even a little bit was worth it. It would be the best love Y/n ever experienced, and that would be enough.

When Y/n came inside, the Doctor was waiting for him. "You've been here all this time?" Y/n nodded. "How long?"

Y/n slipped his hands in his pockets. "I had been here eight years when her 37th birthday. Now she's a little over 40 so... somewhere between ten and twenty years?"

The Doctor hesitated. "Do you prefer it here?"

Y/n looked around. "No." He looked back. "I did have a long time to think though. I... I know a lot about you, Doctor. And you far less so about me. I know that we rushed things, You me and Rose. I understand if you need to take a step back. I don't want you to feel like we have to do anything, or be anything. I-" he sighed. "I don't want you to feel lonely with me around. I just want to be what you wish for, so that you may not feel lonely anymore. Loneliness - it's a terrible feeling."

After a second, the Doctor smiled. "I haven't seen you in so many hours, and for you it's been a decade and a half - give or take. And after all this time, what you've come to realize about your life is that you like this life of ours? Danger and confusion and guessing and all? Me, and my nonsensical ways? You'd chose that over this, and to have it you'd be anything I asked you, even if it meant sacrificing your own feelings?"

"I suppose that's what love is," Y/n shrugged. "Willing to help you be happy, even if it's not with me."

That made the Doctor shake his head, even as he continued giving a small smile. "She told me you were jealous of her. How you were I have no idea. I'd rather have you and Rose at my side any day. Though..." his smile wavered. "I do wish I'd been able to show her just one star up close."

Y/n nodded. "I wish you'd been able to as well."

The Doctor approached Y/n, taking his hand. "So. Back to the TARDIS then?" Y/n nodded. "You can only come if you come as my lover though." He said in with an airy voice, sounding a little like how Reinette used to refer to the King.

It made Y/n chuckle, softly. The fact he could find amusement on such a sorrowful day was quite wonderful. It's what Reinette would have wanted. "Of course, Doctor. I'd have it no other way." So they did go back, and for now, that was the end of it.

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Story Tags: @shoochi @e-reads-fics

Male reader tags: @sheepfather​