#why continue suffering for suffering's sake? But I have to try. I hear hiccup's voice and remember my promise

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

113 with Hiccup and characters of your choice!

THIS TURNED OUT SO LONG! Well, a lot longer than a simple drabble is supposed to be. I might actually end up putting this one on Ao3.

I have not edited this one at all, so it might be really rough. :’D

I hope you enjoy! <3

Prompt 113: “Are you high?”

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"Are you high?" This question is asked by one very angry and very disappointed Stoick Haddock to his son, Hiccup, as they stand in the kitchen of an apartment owned by the Thorstons.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut stand by the door, both silent and their gazes downcast. Though Hiccup is the one most likely to get a lecture, if that is all he'll get, they look as guilty as he does.

Astrid is here, too, but she stands outside of the kitchen. And though she's the one Stoick is probably tge least angry with, she still looks troubled.

She's the reason Stoick is here. After the chain of text messages back and forth with her boyfriend suddenly stopped, she had a troubling hunch and so she'd called his father and told him where to go. Clearly, her hunch was right and she feels terrible for it.

It's not like she wanted to tattle on him, but she couldn't, in good conscience, let him do this to himself.

The saddest part is without a doubt that he's finally back on his feet again.

"Hiccup, I asked you a question." Stoick's rumbling voice is raising and Hiccup shuffles away from him uncomfortably.

"No? I mean, I guess, a little?" He shrugs nervously. Okay, he's been coming down from it. If Astrid and his father had come just a little bit later, they wouldn't have even caught him.

His father's nostrils flare as Hiccup confirming Astrid's fears makes his temper spark. A fist comes down heavily on the kitchen counter and everyone present but Gobber jumps.

"You're 18, Hiccup! 18 and so much smarter than this! Why, in Odin's name, did you think this was a good idea?! Getting high on painkillers how-... You're better than this!" Stoick has always been the kind of parent to maybe raise his voice, but shout and scream, he would never do. That he's yelling now, it's telling of his anger.

"I felt like I had no other choice!" But Hiccup surprises his friends by raising his voice right back at him, not afraid to speak his defense.

Stoick steps back as if taken aback.

"No other- How many times?! How many times have you come here to get high with these two?!" He points an accusatory finger at the twins, who shy away from it.

"Oh, don't act like I do this all the time!" Hiccup shouts, as if he makes a habit of it to disappear for hours without telling anyone where he's going.

Okay, maybe it happens occasionally, but he's rarely alone when he does! He wasn't alone now, was he?!

"How many times, Hiccup?!"

Maybe it's because he's coming down from his high, he honestly doesn't know anything about this, or maybe it's because of his father's accusations, but Hiccup's eyes are wet. He refuses to let them fall in front of him, however, no matter how much the lump in his throat burns.

Is this what his father thinks of him? Does he really think so lowly of him that he catches him redhanded once and immediately assumes this is a regular thing?

Well, if he must know...

"Once. Today. Because I was desperate for a break from my leg." Hiccup's answer is honest and a tear does escape. Because the amount of distrust his own dad apparently has for him hurts and it hurts a lot.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut shuffle uncomfortably on their spot, it was their idea to invite Hiccup over and let him enjoy a slightly higher dosage of his pain medicine. Because Hiccup has been confined to his home for days now, unable to meet with Toothless, barely capable of even leaving his bed without his stump screaming for most of the day. And as Stoick has to leave home for work, it means that Hiccup is often left to fend for himself, left to deal with the pain by himself.

All of their friends know. They've been over many times during these bad bad pain days. They've forced him to accept their help when Hiccup, prideful as he is, would rather suffer than burden anyone with his troubles. They've listened to his frustrations with Stoick as he continuously misunderstands the amount of pain his son faces on days like these

"It better not happen again." After a few beats of silence, that is Stoick's response, spoken in a hard tone. Seemingly not even listening to Hiccup coming clean that he was so desperate to be rid of the hurt that he risked his health and his life by taking a higher dosage.

Turning away from Stoick, Hiccup crosses his arms and once again loses the will to argue with him about that.

Astrid takes a peek inside the kitchen at her boyfriend, having been too uncomfortable to before. She has been just as stubborn. Though she has a better idea than Stoick of Hiccup's plight, their text messages have been mostly consisting of her telling him that he should continue to try to make his dad understand.

And then Hiccup told her of the suggestion the twins have made and she tried and tried to talk him out of it when the messages ended and she knew where her boyfriend must be and what he must be doing.

The saddest part is that his plan obviously worked, he's on his feet again.

"Stoick," Gobber has been silent this entire time, but with a brief reprieve in the argument, he decides to speak up.

"You know that I don't step into your arguments unless I need to and I think I may need to." The man hobbles forward, coming to stand between father and son.

"Gobber, now's not the time." Stoick sighs, the last thing he needs is his old friend butting into matters as serious as this.

"Then when will be the time? When Hiccup solves his leg problem on his own by becoming an addict? I think it might be a little too late by then." But his old friend brings up a good point, as he usually does.

With Stoick's silence remaining, he seems to be waiting on the other to elaborate.

"Now this may come as a bit of a surprise, but I know a thing or two about having a stump." Gobber reminds him, waving his prosthetic arm to bring attention to it.

"And I can tell you that, if our Hiccup here is in as much pain as he says he's in, so much that he would get high just to be rid of it, maybe this isn't normal phantom pain he's dealing with." He continues, wrapping his good arm around the teen to pull him close.

Though Hiccup appreciates his other father-figure coming to his rescue on this, he's not sure how this can be fixed.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Stoick asks.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I usually go to a doctor when I know something is wrong. So I suggest you take this lad to see one and you do it quickly. Preferably before he has to resort to such measures again." Though Gobber must certainly not be okay with what Hiccup has done, he understands his intention, at least. And then he turns to him to address him next.

Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Astrid remain forgotten in the background as this conversation continues.

"Hiccup, son, I know you well enough to know that you didn't do something as foolish as this without feeling like you absolutely had to. Am I right?" Gobber asks Hiccup, who glances at him momentarily before nodding.

He's still angry, but it lightens just a tad upon hearing him validate his suffering.

"And am I right to guess that you will never do such a thing again if your father finally hears you and helps you get this checked out?" Gobber asks and Hiccup gazes back at him for longer than a mere moment this time.

"Yeah, of course! All I want is for this pain to be dealt with! I want it gone so badly." Dropping his arms, Hiccup pushes himself up from the kitchen counter. They can all hear the desperation in his voice and it must be enough that someone as stubborn as him is willing to take a risk such as this for the sake of pain relief.

Stoick sighs and rubs his forehead.

Okay, so maybe he has judged a little too quickly.

"Fine, I'm calling our doctor tomorrow, maybe he can recommend us someone." He finally, finally, concedes.

"About time." Hiccup mutters, looking away again. Either Stoick hasn't heard him or he chooses to ignore this.

"First things first, we're going home."

"I'm not going home."

Surprised by this, everyone stares at Hiccup.

"I'm going to call Fishlegs, see if he and his parents mind me crashing at his place for the night." It would seem like he has already decided, judging by his tone of voice. He doesn't want to bring the twins any more in trouble than they already are for giving him their space while their mother is out. And Astrid, well...

"I can ask my parents..." She wants to suggest, but her words quickly trail when Hiccup looks away from her.

Though she meant well, he is clearly not happy with her right now.

So Fishlegs it is then.

Stoick would rather take Hiccup back home with him, but it seems like Hiccup's mind is made up and it is probably for the best that he doesn't push him any further.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow." And with those words, Stoick is off. He passes his son, who doesn't even look at him, doesn't even tell him goodbye back, and leaves.

Gobber pats Hiccup's shoulder with a heavy hand.

"I'll talk to you later, okay, lad?" He tells him and Hiccup nods.

"Okay," To him, Hiccup does respond. It would seem like neither Astrid nor Stoick are in Hiccup's good books at the moment.

Gobber leaves with Stoick, the one who has driven him here, and leaves Hiccup with Ruff and Tuff.

Silence returns and it is awkward in the kitchen.

"Hey, uh, you can stay here if you want," Ruffnut suggests.

"Yeah, we have food and Netflix and games. We can ask our mom." Tuff attempts to make the offer better, but Hiccup shakes his head.

"That's very nice of you guys, but you've already done way too much for me. I'm just going to call Fishlegs and see if he or his parents mind." Hiccup tells them as he pulls his phone out of his back pocket.

"Thank you, seriously." He thanks them, coming to stand in front of them.

"Hey, we're always here for you," Ruffnut tells him and captures him in a hug.

"You can count on us for anything, H." Tuffnut joins in and Hiccup returns it, wrapping on arm around each of them.

So maybe neither of the three have made the wisest decision to suggest this plan and then go through with that plan. Hiccup will admit to it later, but for the moment, he's just happy to have the pain in his stump gone for the first time in days.

He pulls away from them, smiling, and then walks out of the kitchen with his eyes on his phone as he searches for Fishlegs in his list of contacts.

[quackeroos]

spring day pt.2 | p.parker

Pairing: peter parker x Stark!Hanahaki!reader, peter parker x michelle jones

Summary: peter discovers the truth about y/n’s condition. y/n had already accepted the inevitable, but peter wasn’t. he came up with a plan that could possibly save her, now all he has to do is get her to agree with it. 

Warnings: all through out this story there will be mentions of blood, death, and will contain pining and angst.

Words: 5.6k for everyone!

A/n: your positive feedback from part 1 inspired me so much while i was writing this, so thank you guys so much! i didn’t expect Spring Day to reach 300+ notes in a week ‘coz my past works didn’t... well before. so thank you so much! i forgot to mention this in the first part, but the the idea of naming this series came from BTS’ song “Spring Day”. you guys can listen to the song while reading it! but if you’re not into kpop, that’s fine. why did i name this series “Spring Day”?  you’ll find out at the end of the series.next update will hopefully by next week. my birthday writing challenge is still on-going, so everyone is still welcome to join!  ARI’S BIRTHDAY WRITING CHALLENGE!

*gif is not mine

General Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Hanahaki. It’s a disease caused by unrequited love, wherein flowers grow inside your chest and cover up your respiratory system, making the host cough up petals and blood until you die.”

Peter was silent for a moment. He was sitting beside her. Mask in hand, his head hung low, just looking at the pile of petals and blood. Everything was still a blur for him, so he replied with a low tone. “How long have you had this?”

“A few years.”

Peter winced at her reply. She had been hiding her disease for years and didn’t tell him? Peter tried to remain cool, hoping she could explain more. There had to be a reason why she hid it from him and their friends. Everything she does after all was for a reason. “Why didn’t you tell any of us you’ve had this for so long? We could’ve helped you.”

She sighed. “Peter, even if I told you guys, there’s nothing you can do.” Even though he couldn’t see her face, the sadness was laced in her voice.

“What do you mean that there’s nothing we can do? There has to be a cure for that!”

“It’s isn’t that simple, Peter.” She stood up from her bed facing him, making Peter look up at her. “It’s either I get surgery or… or my love gets requited. And surgery doesn’t always work.”

He scoffed, “So you plan on giving up?”

“I’m doing the surgery. Pepper has already talked to Stephen and Christine about it. I’m getting the surgery by the end of the week.”

“But you said it yourself that the surgery doesn’t always work! Y/n the best chance you have is getting your love requited.” As if that wasn’t the most obvious answer. Y/n almost laughed, if only he knew. There was a time she did thought of that. Try and come between MJ and Peter to save herself from the heartbreak and the disease. Maybe she could do that? Be selfish for once. After all, all her life she had been used to giving, sharing, putting others before herself. But the little voice at the back of her mind was keeping her from doing so. She couldn’t do that to MJ. Most specially, she couldn’t do that to Peter. She had always been at the side, watching him pine over MJ ever since she became more open to their little friend group.

“Who is it then? Who did you fall in love with?” his tone was cold, and it chilled Y/n to the bone.

“You knowing who it is won’t make a difference. He’s already in love with someone else.”

“Then maybe he’ll listen to reason. Y/n, you’re dying!” he stood up, there was a glint of hope in his eyes and Y/n’s heart ached. If anything, she didn’t want to see that hopeful glint in his eyes. It would only hurt more to tell him the whole truth. “Maybe if me and the others can talk to this guy, we can – “

“Pete.”

“—We can try and make him fall in love with you! Then-then you’re cured! You’ll be back to normal.”

“Pete.” She whispered softly, begging him to stop. But Peter continued to ramble on, walking around her room in a quick pace.

“Or we can try and introduce you to some suitors! Speed dating, you know? You’ll fall in love with someone else and maybe your love gets requited back!”

“Peter! It doesn’t work that way, okay!” Y/n finally found her voice. She couldn’t take it anymore. If Peter continued with his hopeful rambling, it’ll become harder and harder to tell him the truth. The despairful truth is better revealed than hiding it behind a hopeful lie. “Hanahaki doesn’t work that way. Love doesn’t work that way! You can’t just beg someone to fall in love with me!”

He turned hot on his heel.  “Then what am I supposed to do? Watch you die?”

“That’s not what I’m—”

“Then what, Y/n?! I’m trying to give possible options that might work and-and you just turn them down!”

“That’s because it won’t work!” Her tone matched his. The two were overlapping each other in the heated argument, the loud voices in their heads are all over the place. “Peter, the only solution to this is the surgery. The guy is too far gone. He’s in love, Pete. And the one he’s dating is in love too. I can’t ruin what they have. They’re too good for each other.”

The air between them became calm, a bit more relaxed because of the sincerity in Y/n’s voice. He can tell that she truly loves the guy. Y/n was willing to sacrifice herself and her love for the sake of the two. And it didn’t matter if she was the one who has to suffer just so they could be together. But Peter isn’t having it.

“Tell me.” He gave her a hard look. “Tell me who the guy is.”

Y/n shook her head, “Pete—”

“I’m not letting you die just because of some stupid guy Y/n! I won’t have it! You deserve to live just as everyone does! You deserve to be loved just as they do because I know how much you have given to them - to everyone!” Peter was tearing up. “And the world hasn’t been kind to you too! If anything Y/n, you deserve a lot more because the world has taken a lot from you.”

The pain, the grief, the sadness, everything washed over her. It was like a tsunami of every bad feeling hitting her, and she was in the strike zone, all of it was because of what Peter had said. She didn’t want to feel it. She’s already tired of crying. Wasn’t it already enough? The silent sobs came out of her mouth and the tears were welling up in the corners of her eyes, slowly rolling down in a hot trail.

“If I tell you, everything won’t be the same again.” Her voice was soft and quiet, but it was enough for Peter to hear. His expression changed into confusion. He could feel her heartbeat increase in pace and her anxiety was waving off her.

Peter carefully asked, “What do you mean?”

She bit her lip, anxious to speak out to form the words that’s been sitting in the back of her mind for the past three years she had known him. It took a lot of courage to meet his eyes. She had thought she was would ready to do this, but let’s be honest, since when was anyone ever ready to confront the person they’re in love with? It was a great risk, but Y/n had to let it out now.

“You.” She replied hoarsely. “Ever since sophomore year, it was you.”

It felt like the wind knocked out the air out of Peter. Was he hearing this right? He had to be imagining things. He couldn’t possibly be the one that’s killing her, right? Everything Y/n felt for him was purely platonic.

It had to be.

The new discovery sent Peter in a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, guilt, sadness, and regret, all rolled into one. He didn’t expect to feel anger, but he did. Though he wasn’t exactly sure who he was angry with. He was angry at himself, for not recognizing what his best friend felt for him all this time and being the cause of her pain. Angry at the disease, because it’s consuming her, and now her time is numbered. He was angry at her, because she didn’t tell him about everything sooner. But Peter didn’t have the heart to be mad at her, even after everything. Because in the end, she made the choice not to tell, and she cared for him and MJ so much that it didn’t matter if her own happiness and life was at stake. Y/n was only human after all. And she was too good for this world.

He lets out a heavy breath. It was still hard to grasp what Y/n just said. It felt like he was going to have a sensory overload. “W-Why? Why? Why didn’t you tell me this before?” his voice was slowly starting to break. The weight of guilt pulling him down to the ground.

“Because this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to you to blame yourself for this, Pete. It’s not your fault, it never was.” She put a hand on his shoulder, but it burned him to feel her sympathetic touch.

“How can you say that this isn’t my fault?! Y/n you’re dying because of me. You got this disease because of me! How can you not blame me for this?!”

“Because it’s mine Peter.” She replied calmly. “It’s my fault. I was stupid to fall in love with you and keep it to myself. But I did, Pete.” She took his hand in hers and held it tightly, hoping it might console him. “I fell, and I don’t regret doing so.” A sorrowful smile grew on her face, and instead of giving Peter comfort, he felt bad even more. Y/n was smiling despite the pain. “I never blamed you for this, and I never will. You never even knew in the first place, and I didn’t tell you about it.”

No matter what consolation Y/n would say or soothing gestures, Peter still blamed himself for it. But he didn’t have to tell her that. He didn’t tell her anything, just let her speak out the thoughts that ran in her mind. She was caught off guard when he pulled her in, instantly wrapping his arms around her, and holding on tightly. She could feel her shirt become wet and the silent sobs that came out of his lips. He holds on tightly to her; he feared the coming future. He was scared of losing her, he couldn’t handle losing another person in his life.

“I’m sorry Y/n. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not seeing it sooner. I’m sorry.” He spoke in a hushed voice, and in between the sentence, hiccups would escape his mouth. She circled her arms around him and return the hug, though hers was gentler, made to soothe Peter. The scent sends her heart into a frenzy and it hurt when she realized how this may be the last time she was ever going to be this close to him. “Please, don’t take the surgery. You said it was risky right? That most of the time, the surgery doesn’t work.”

“There’s a 20% chance I might survive. It’s risky, but I’m willing to bet on it.”

“Don’t take it, please. There has to be another way.” He begged.

Y/n shook her head in his shoulder. “I’m taking the surgery, Pete. It’s for the better.”

Peter’s silent sobs echoed around the room, and he held onto her even tighter. He refused to accept it. He doesn’t want to the fact that he was about to lose Y/n too. She rubbed soothing circles around his back, and Y/n can tell it was working. His breathing was slowly becoming steady.

“You should go back to the apartment, Pete. You’re tired, you need rest.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Pete.” She sighed, “You have to go home. May will be wondering where you are. And you need sleep.”

“I’ll sleep here with you.” His voice was muffled by the cloth of her shirt.

“Stop being so stubborn, Pete.”

“I’m not- “

She pulled away from the hug, holding both shoulders in her hands with a hard look on her face. Her eyes were still red from crying and was sniffling a bit, but the authority she held in her voice made her look so strong. “You are going home. That’s final Peter. Don’t make me fly your ass back to the apartment.”

If this was a different situation, Peter would’ve laughed at her. She always found Y/n’s foul mouth entertaining. She was a bit smaller than he was and watching her curse with a hot head made her look like an angry puppy, punk-ass sprites from that one Pixar movie. But it wasn’t. The air still held the same tension, and both still couldn’t stop themselves from crying.

Although he didn’t approve of leaving, he had to comply. Peter nodded and broke away from the hug. She ushered him to her window and Peter settled himself on the wide window ledge. He took a moment and stayed for a bit. He didn’t want to leave just yet. But the pleading eyes Y/n gave him made him sigh.

Peter pulled his mask down and jumped off, swinging into the night. Y/n stayed watching by her window, making sure he was heading off back to his apartment. Once he was out of sight, laid back in her bed and lets out a heavy sigh. The memory of Peter’s sob and the feel of his arms wrapped tight around her made her remember the time when Tony died. It was painful, and everything reminded her of that awful memory. Minutes later, Peter’s message lit up her phone, notifying her that he was back at the apartment safe. She typed back a reply, only keeping it short.

Okay. Get some rest.

And placed it back on her nightstand. She didn’t want to type out anything longer as it just be harder for her to fall asleep with the already heavy feeling in her chest. She turned on her side and switch off the light.

***

 The next day, Y/n woke up to the sound of giggling and bouncing. The high-pitched voice very familiar to her. She immediately recognized the voice that belonged to her little sister, Morgan. All though she had only met her on the day of their father’s funeral, she became attached to the five-year-old in an instant. She loves the little girl to bits, and almost everything she did reminded her of her late father.

“Y/n! Y/n, Y/n, Y/nnnn! Wake up!” she bounced on the bed, shaking her sister’s body. “Mommy is making breakfast!” to the little girl’s dismay, the teen only groaned and covered her head with a pillow. The young Stark huffed and went to Y/n’s side, opening one of her eyes. “Big Sis, wake uuuupp!!”

She sighed in defeat, sitting up on her bed.  “All right, all right. I’m up.” A sweet smile makes its way on little Morgan face and she squeals when her sister picked her up from the bed as they make their way downstairs. “Are you feeling better now Y/n? Are the petals and blood gone?” Morgan asked sweetly, looking at her with her doe-like eyes that were always full of curiosity and mischief. It was a trait in the Stark family, and like Y/n, Morgan had inherited their father’s eyes.

“A little, but I’ll be fine soon.”

“You were crying last night. Did something happen?”

Y/n shakes her head. “Just a bad dream Mo. Nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe I can sleep with you next time. That way you won’t get bad dreams!”  her face light up at the idea. Morgan had grown to love sleeping in her sister’s room, and vice versa. Something about having someone to tell her stories until she falls asleep, to keep the nightmares at bay, and to wake up beside her big sister. She could only mirror the smile Morgan had on her face and agreed with her.

Once they reached the common area, Pepper was already setting up a plate of pancakes and a bowl of berries on the kitchen table. Sam and Bucky were settled at the living room, watching the television as they ate their breakfast, Rhodey was already finished with breakfast and was making his way out to who knows where, while Wanda was settled on a stool, eating the pancakes Pepper had made beforehand.

“G’morning Mommy!” Morgan bellowed at the strawberry blonde who walked towards them and kissed both of their heads in greeting, ruffling Y/n’s hair to wake her senses up, along with the smell of freshly made pancakes to make her stomach grumble. “Y/n was hard to wake up. But I did it! So, mission accomplished!”

“That you did, sweetie. Great job!” Pepper cooed.

Y/n groaned as she held the sides of her head, “My head is pounding. I’m gonna go make coffee.” It was a daily ritual for her. Every morning she would wake up to Morgan bouncing on her bed and make her disoriented for a bit and leave her a bit wooly. She excused herself from the kitchen island and made her way towards the coffee maker. She doubled the amount of coffee since Sam and Bucky would want some too. Too engrossed with the smell and making her cup, she didn’t notice the presence of her Stepmother standing her.

“Your eyes are red. Did something happen?” she asked, worry laced in the tone.

“Yeah. I just had a bad dream is all.” Y/n shook her head.

“I heard Peter’s voice.  Both of you were crying at dawn, Y/n.” She held her breath. Of course Pepper heard. She slept at Morgan’s room last night. Y/n can’t exactly lie to Pepper, nor can she keep a secret from her for a long period of time. The woman had a knack for knowing what’s running through Y/n’s mind, what she was hiding and when she was hiding it. It made Pepper look like she was her biological mother after all this time.

Y/n chuckles jokingly, the infamous smirk slowly appearing on her lips. “Alright, you got me Pep.” She didn’t reply at her. Only kept silent with an expectant look that tells her to continue and share what had happened in the middle of the night. She lets out a breath, “I had another episode that night. While I was in the bathroom, Peter came into my room, and he saw… everything. I told him about the Hanahaki and the surgery. He didn’t take it too well.” Y/n didn’t want to elaborate everything. Peter’s cries and pleads were still fresh in her memory. If she stretched the story further, it’ll start over again. And she already had enough for one day.

Pepper took her in for a hug and place a comforting hand on her back, rubbing it soothingly. “He was gonna find out sooner or later, you know that Y/n.”

She sighs, “Yeah.”

Pepper kissed her forehead lovingly and held both her shoulders, “Peter cares so much about you. He’ll understand.”  Y/n could only hope he would. Deep down, Pepper didn’t really want her to do the surgery. She had thought of another possible way, but it was too much to ask for. Stephen had already said the operation would be very risky, so that was already crossed out of her list… But she then thought of Tony. If he was still here, he would’ve taken the chance on getting Y/n to go into surgery, pull all-nighters every day, just so he could save his daughter. So, Pepper agreed to Y/n’s choice.

The morning continued with the usual routine; Wanda playing her guitar, learning new songs or writing whenever inspiration hit her, Sam taking rounds around the compound to make sure there were no intruders, and Bucky would be training for hours in the gym. Y/n used to go with Bucky to train more on her physicality and fighting techniques. But ever since she came back from the trip, Stephen and Pepper had banned her from stepping foot in the gym.

So she went to her lab. Tinkering her suit and sketching some ideas that would randomly come into her mind. Morgan kept her company most of the time. The little girl would wear the prototype helmets for her suit and would impersonate her and their father (she mostly did Tony), play with Dum-E, or sit beside her and observe to just pass the time. Y/n felt like having a tail, and she didn’t mind Morgan’s company, not one bit. She needed someone to get her mind off of Peter after all. And for the past few weeks of keeping her distance from the arachnid, Morgan had replaced the hole that Peter left in her heart.

***

By the time the sun went down, Y/n’s stomach began to rumble. She told Morgan to go fetch some snacks for them so they can eat it in the lab. But too engrossed in her work, Y/n failed to notice that her sister had already been gone for an hour. She looked at her watch. It was time for dinner anyway, so she left her things and journeyed back to the common living room. She could hear her sister’s giggles from the stairs and another voice that made her heart feel unsteady. Her feet stopped moving when she saw Peter, happily playing with Morgan who was on his back and arms looped around his neck. They were running around the living room and Peter made horse noises to make the roleplay believable. It was a sight to see, something that would warm her heart and swell.

Morgan’s eyes lit up when she noticed her big sister in the room. “Y/n!” She exclaimed, and Peter stood up straight as the little girl brought his attention to Y/n. Both of their eyes read the same expression. His eyes were better than before, no red and not puffy anymore. He looked well, compared to Y/n’s tired one’s.

The little girl climbed down the teen’s back and ran towards her sister, pulling at her arm to meet Peter in between. “Mommy told me to keep Peter company while she cooked dinner! He’s the horse while I’m the princess.” her giddiness showing in the little hops that she does. Morgan didn’t know about the feelings she has for Peter, but ever since he first saw him at the funeral, then his visits to the compound, she loved seeing her sister and her friend together. And more often than not Morgan teased her with Peter. The little rascal had a glint in her eyes and Y/n could only pray that Morgan doesn’t do her teasing in front of him.

“You should join us Y/n! You can be the Queen and Peter will be the Knight.”

As if on cue, Wanda called from the dining table for dinner. She was helping Pepper set up the table with the dishes they made. Bucky was already on his seat and Sam was making juice in the kitchen. It was rare for the Avengers to be sitting in the dining table along with the Starks. They mostly ate take outs and Wanda’s cooking if she wasn’t too lazy. They were lucky enough to have Pepper to cook for them when she wasn’t working late, and today was one of those days.

“You should join us Peter. We have an extra seat left.” Pepper came in with a pot in her hand as sets it down on the table.

Peter glances at Y/n, looking for signs of defiance, or anything that tells him not to stay. But she doesn’t say anything, instead, she jerks her head towards the table and led Morgan, he followed shortly after.

Shock flashed in everybody’s eyes when they saw Y/n coming in with Peter in tow but was quickly masked with a warm smile. “Here Peter, saved you a seat.” Rhodey patted to the one next to him. Y/n sat on the other side of the table, and it was obvious she wasn’t meeting Peter’s gaze. Thankfully, the adults knew how to keep the tension at bay. They included them in the conversation every once in a while. Peter tried to be more social to try and lighten Y/n’s mood, but she was still and quiet as a statue.

When she finished, she pushed off her seat and kissed Morgan’s temple. “I’ll be up in my room. Goodnight everyone.” She quickly made her way up the stairs. Something about Peter’s presence set off her mood. She thought she had already figured everything out in the past few hours she’s been cooped up in the lab, turns out she hadn’t. She had been avoiding it. And now that Peter was here (again), she didn’t know what to do. She was positive there was something he wanted to discuss. And handling another talk about her condition and their friendship was something she doesn’t want to do for the second time this day.

She heard a rap on her door and the person behind it didn’t mind waiting for a reply. Peter turned the knob and entered, closing the door behind him. “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing else to talk about, Pete.” She avoided his eyes. “I told you, there’s no other way. I’m taking the surgery whether you have a say in it or not.”

“But there is a way.” He took a step forward, the same glimmer of hope in his eyes when he held her hand. “Y/n, I figured it out. You don’t have to take the surgery.”

She looked at him cluelessly, not following on what he’s getting at. “You ‘figured it out’? Peter, I don’t understand.”

“I wanna learn how to love you.”

Her eyes slowly widen, and she pulled her hands towards her and slowly backed away from Peter. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m not Y/n. I want to save you.”

Y/n gave a bitter laugh. She had a hunch that Peter would think of that, she just didn’t believe something like that could happen, until now. “Peter, you can’t learn to love someone.”

“But what if I can? You’re not hard to love after all.”

Her hands ran through her hair, pursing her lips. “It doesn’t work that way Pete! And I’m not gonna let you ruin your relationship with MJ for this.” She started pushing him towards the door. It was already enough that he found out about her condition, but offering such a thing just to save her? Y/n’s already had it. She wanted to do it, deep down. But she decided against it. Peter was better off with MJ anyway. And if the surgery’s a success, she wouldn’t have to feel that pain anymore.

It was a win-win for the both.

Peter stood his ground and remained in the same place. “Why are you being stubborn? I’m trying to save you from this Y/n! I got you in this and I want to get you out of it!”

“Peter, it’s not your obligation to do this.”

“But it is! It is Y/n! I look at you and all I feel is I-I just have to, okay! Why won’t you just let me?”

“Because I don’t want you to!” She yelled out in frustration.

Heaves of heavy breaths fall from her lips, and the hard look she once had soften. “I don’t want you to force yourself to love me, Peter. It all comes out naturally, you know that. And I deserve more than that.” She took a step forward and was hesitant to take his hand in his. She decided to shove it in the pockets of her sweater instead. “Look, I’m content with what we already have Pete. Really, I am. I’m happy knowing that you finally have MJ as your girlfriend, I’m happy that you’re becoming better and better every day with your new suit, and I’m happy to see you becoming the man Dad had always seen in you ever since you first met. I’m happy with the thought of you as my friend, Pete. That you love me and care for me, just as how Dad did. And I’m okay with that. I’m okay with everything.”

It was silent for a moment, until Peter spoke breathlessly. “But is it enough to save you?”

The air got caught in her throat. She wanted to tell him ‘No. It wouldn’t.’. But if she did, Peter wasn’t going to let his option off the table. Tears started welling up in her eyes and when the hot trail rand down her cheek, she quickly swiped it away with her thumb. She didn’t notice Peter was slowly inching towards her, the distance between them becoming dangerously close. His breath fanned over her face and Peter lifted his hand to push away the baby hairs that stuck out of the unkept bun she made. He could feel her heart spike and her anxiety radiating off. He held her hand and place the other on her cheek in hopes to keep her calm at the proximity between them. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, but he kept the same eyes trained on her, and behind it was something Y/n couldn’t read. As she was about to step back, Peter had already caught on and pulled her in before she could walk away.

Peter’s lips were soft. It looked soft even if she eyed it for a few moments, every time he pursed it when focusing, or wetting it with his tongue when he feels nervous and awkward. The feeling of his lips on hers made her body buzz and eyes cloud in haze. His lips felt soft, but this kiss was hard. Although Y/n’s heart was pounding, she didn’t feel any affection through the kiss. His features had already displayed the feeling; desperation, anger, sadness - all of it in a mix. His brows were furrowed, and Y/n could see a tear peeking underneath his eye.

If it were a normal setting, she would’ve kissed back. If she didn’t have the Hanahaki, If Peter did love her truly, if he wasn’t dating MJ, she would’ve melted in the kiss and loop her arms around him and play with the baby hairs on the back of his neck.

But it wasn’t. This is wrong.

She put her hand on his chest and pushed him forcefully, making him tumble. Shock and hurt painted on her face as she grazed her lips with her fingers. Her lips still buzzed with the feeling of Peter’s lips. She raised her chin and connected her eyes with his. “Why did you do that?” her voice was pained, soft, and regret laced in it.

“I wanted to.” He spoke truthfully.

He took a sure step towards her, taking out his hand to reach out but she pushes it away. The soft and pained look in her eyes transitioned into a hard-cold glare, hands tightened in fists, and lips start trembling. The tears were about to fall, and she didn’t want Peter to watch her and try comforting her.

What he did was already upsetting enough.

“Get out Peter.” She growled.

“I’m not leaving. Not until we finish talking— “

“Get the fuck out of my room Parker! I’m done talking about it! Get out!” She pushed him harder this time, but he didn’t move. Fucking super strength. He wasn’t making it any easier. She started punching him pathetically. Y/n knew she was already looking like an idiot, but Peter fucked her up. Bad.

“Leave Peter! I’m done! And don’t come back here again!”

“Y/n- “

“GET OUT!” She shoved his body hard enough to lead him to the hallway. The doors immediately shut and clicked before Peter could even get back to his feet and push it open. She can hear the knocks from the other side of the door and his voice calling out to her, telling her to open it and talk it out. But she was done with talking. And now her feelings and her senses are getting fucked up because of his stupid kiss. Y/n wanted to sob, wanted to bawl her eyes out like any normal teenager does when their hearts get broken.

But she didn’t.

She climbed in the bed and covered herself underneath the sheets and pillows.  The sound behind her door was drowned out, and Y/n lulled herself to sleep. Fuck these feelings. Fuck her stupid heart. Fuck this disease.

Fuck Peter Parker for messing her up.

***

Over the course of the following days, Y/n ignored all of Peter’s attempts to make contact. Her phone ringed and buzzed for days, but not once did she pick up his calls. Her windows and blinds were shut in case he attempted to climb through the window. And his visits were no longer welcome. She made sure to lock her door unless no one else was inside the compound.

When surgery day came, she didn’t hear her phone sound off a notification from Peter. No calls, No messages. It was a quiet morning, which was a relief for Y/n. Pepper knocked on her door to let her know that Stephen and Christine will be coming in a few hours. They’ll run a few tests and proceed with the surgery. Her stomach felt empty, and the low rumble of her belly didn’t make it any easier. She was only allowed to drink a few glasses of water from time to time. God, I just want this to be over.

A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts and she mumbled a soft ‘Come in’. Wanda peeked from her door with a gentle smile on her face. “Someone’s here for you.” Her heartbeat quickened and her temper rose.

“If it’s Peter, tell him to go fuck himself. I don’t plan on talking to him anytime soon.”

The witch shakes her head, “It’s not Peter.”

Her brows furrowed, confused. “Who is it then?”  Who else would be visiting her? She wasn’t expecting anyone else. Wanda jerked her head inside the room and the mysterious visitor pushed the door open. The familiar long brown curls and the tanned complexion slowly unveiled behind the white door, and the I-don’t-give-a-fuck aura entered the room. Her stomach drop and the tension rose. There was another person she didn’t want to see, and it was the person now standing in front. Michelle stood with her usual cool and composed posture, but Y/n was the total opposite.

“So, I heard you’re getting a surgery?”

-

part 3 of Spring Day

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[countessmorgasson]

Hibiscus

Asra x MC! An illness forces Asra to spill his deepest secret.

For those of you who don’t know, Hanahaki disease is a fictional illness where the infected coughs flower petals as a result of unrequited love.

Gender Neutral MC

IMPORTANT: This fic comes with two possible endings! 

(Disclaimer: AU, not based on Asra’s route, but still contains story spoilers. Lemon warning depending on your choice.)

TW: Illness, blood, death

“It’s been happening for weeks now. Probably longer, but he’s been so secretive about it. I don’t know what to do.” 

You’re nearly collapsed in exhaustion, resting yourself against Julian’s desk hours after your bedtime. Desperation keeps you awake and restless as the doctor rifles through various scrolls and notes in his office. 

Asra’s sick.

He’s been sick. For ages, it seems- and it’s not exactly the common cold. If you hadn’t shared a space together he’d probably get away with hiding his condition that much longer, but he’s breaking down, and you’re starting to find the pieces. 

It started with hiccups, you remember. Small ones, similar to when he had a drink too many- but with a deadlier rasp to his voice. Those transitioned into something you never wanted to hear; desperate, pained coughing. There were nights where the sound was so unbearable you found yourself away from the shop- after being denied one too many times. He’d never let you take care of him.

And then there were the flower petals. You’ve been finding them in the most peculiar spots; swept under the counters, circling the drains, and even on Asra’s bedding. Pink and white flakes follow your master like moths to a flame, and yet you’ve only now come to connect the dots- when you picked one up to see it streaked with blood.

You’re not sure exactly how long he’s been like this, but it’s gotten bad- and confusing. Something you’ve never seen before, even as a magician’s apprentice. 

So here you are, hours behind on your sleep schedule with poor Julian shuffling through a mixed stack of medical and spell books. You try your hardest to keep up, but your mind drifts back to the shop- is Asra sick right now? Is he in pain?

“Describe it again, m/c. Did you say flower petals? What do they look like?”

“They’re usually pink- if I had to guess I’d say they’re petals from some sort of hibiscus- but smaller.” 

Pink hibiscus... your favorite flowers. 

Julian’s eyes rest on the book cracked open across the desk- on a specific page. The only thing keeping the room lit is a flickering lantern and a candle in the center of the office table, and the darkness obstructs your vision but you just know he’s found something of use. You can see it in the way his face falls. 

“Could it be... Hanahaki disease?”

“What is that?”

Julian’s eyes skim the pages with frantic speed- he must not know either. All you can do is force your eyes open while you wait. Absolute torture. You wait, and you wait...

...

“Julian?” You’re bordering on hysteria in your tone- whether it’s because of fear or exhaustion, you don’t know. Why does he have that look on his face?

“Julian! Did you figure it out? What’s wrong?!”

“M/c...” 

The book closes with a deafening thud.

“There’s no cure.”

- 

Asra’s up before the sun again.  You enter the shop just in time to hear him erupt into another fit of coughs- painful, by the sound of them. It takes all of your willpower not to turn back and wait outside.

You can’t take it anymore. You rush towards the sound and place your hand against Asra’s back, pretending you don’t notice how he hunches over the sink and how much he begins to strain when you get close. 

“Relax, Asra,” you soothe. You feel magic underneath your palms as a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain. “Let it out.”

You shut your eyes when the petals fall into the sink, and your eyes burn.  There’s silence now, aside from Asra’s heavy breathing. You continue to burn yourself out with magic, convinced that it’s helping him. 

“M/c, go. I don’t want you to see this,” is the first thing he says to you. 

You’re trying not to take it personally, but you don’t know how. Why can’t he let you help him? It’s the absolute least you can do. You think back to as far as your memory will allow- and he’s been there from the start. He’s fed you, cared for you, taught you everything you know- and yet he won’t let you return the favor?

Maybe it’s the exhaustion playing on your nerves, but now that he’s stopped coughing you find yourself balling your fists and blinking back hot tears. 

“Why won’t you let me help?” Your voice is weak, but it paints a red flush across Asra’s cheeks. 

“Because you can’t.”

So he knows. 

Once again Asra knows something that you don’t, and there’s practically no chance that he’ll share that knowledge with you. That’s how it always is with him, isn’t it?

You can’t come with me, m/c. Not this time.  I can’t explain it yet. Not this time. It’s better if you don’t know.  Someday, when you’re stronger. Until then...

Words of the past begin to creep into your head, taunting you, twisting your emotions until you’re past exhaustion and completely seething.  It isn’t fair.

For a moment, your eyes meet and you see what you think is guilt cross his face. It lasts only a moment, and he stands his ground. 

“Don’t overwork yourself- you’re so tired your eyes are bloodshot. Just go to bed. I’ll be fine.”

My eyes aren’t bloodshot. I’ve been crying.  You bite your tongue only because you’re moments away from collapsing. You glance back to the sink for traces of blood but you find none. If only you hadn’t been awake all night- surely you’d put up more of a fight.  And yet, your exhaustion was more than just physical sleepiness. You still trudge upstairs to your bedroom. 

If Asra wasn’t going to let you care for him today, you were going to get at least some sort of comfort. You flop onto your shared bed without so much as removing your shoes, but your eyes catch something that deters you from your sleep.

A single petal on the pillow- torn in two. 

-

Now that you’ve gone upstairs, Asra could pace throughout the shop without interruption- or so he thought. 

A harsh knock on the door raises goosebumps. What if you wake up? He can’t avoid you forever- and this illness was clearly taking a toll on you both. He pretended not to notice how you came home clearly in tears. There was soon going to be a day where he wouldn’t be able to bring you peace...

Shaking the morbid thoughts from his head, Asra hurried to open the doors before the visitor could pound against the door again. 

“Julian?” 

Oh, it only gets worse, doesn’t it? Even doctor Devorak’s got the same glossy look on his eyes. He’s like a single storm cloud against the sunny sky.  He pushes past Asra with a dramatic turn of his cape, but when he’s entered the shop he stops the dramatic antics. 

“Is it true? You’re suffering from Hanahaki disease?” He demands.

“Hush, Julian. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Asra has to avert his eyes once again. 

“I’m a doctor, Asra. I know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s m/c, isn’t it?” His voice dips into a shattered whisper, but Asra can only roll his eyes with another frustrated sigh. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised to see you at the foot of the stairs, having heard it all. With that small fear in the back of his mind, Asra maintains the silence despite the doctor’s pleading eyes.

“You’re... in love with your apprentice?” 

“Must you ask?”

Asra never meant to hurt Julian- he had just made too many desperate choices. Even so, those were made years ago, before he had you back. Was Julian holding on to that pain all this time? 

The silence answers that question- and neither of the two can look the other in the eyes. 

“Well... regardless of how I feel,” Julian finally huffs. “You have to come clean. M/c doesn’t deserve to be left in the dark.”

Ugh! Julian wouldn’t understand. He never understood magic- he didn’t understand sacrifice, and surely he wasn’t going to understand why Asra can’t just tell you. If it were that easy, he would’ve told you everything years ago. There’s a reason you can only remember so far back, and it’s taken so many fights and tears for you to stop questioning it. It was for your safety, for goodness sakes!

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”  By now Julian seems to have deflated. Even his hair suddenly seems to have drooped over his eyes. “If you really love m/c... you wouldn’t want them to be alone. But that’s what you’re doing- to both of us. You’re going to let yourself die without a word because you’re afraid of hurting them? How do you think they’ll feel when they have to bury you?”

-

It’s been a few days since your outburst. It seems like things could be better- you haven’t seen any petals around the shop. Could it be that Julian was wrong? Maybe Asra did know better and figured out how to heal himself. 

Sinking back into bed, you kick yourself for getting your hopes up. You know better than to do that. Asra’s probably just gotten better at hiding them again. There was a reason why you’ve only come to notice the sickness now.

You woke up alone today. You and Asra didn’t always share a bed- it was more common the first two years, when he seemed to afraid to let you wander. Part of you starts to yearn for those years, even when it seemed painful just to be alive. 

“M/c?”

His voice reaches you before you see him come into the room. You don’t even register the tears in his eyes at first. 

You just see blood.

Dripping down his chin in small streaks of red- droplets staining the purple fabric of his favorite tunic. It’s even on his hand. He must have coughed into it. 

The world seems to vanish around you. All you see is red. 

“M/c, we’ve got to talk.”

...

-

The blood is cleaned up, but you’re still shaking. Your eyes are fixed on Asra’s lips, just waiting for the disease to manifest itself again. Does he know you’ve barely eaten since that night when you fought? You either sleep too much or not at all- and when you do, all you see are pink petals.

But they don’t come. You stare and stare but he doesn’t cough. He doesn’t bleed. Asra just sits. He cradles his tea with shaky hands and teary eyes. 

“I...” 

Shaking his head, he gazes into your eyes like it may be the last time.

It may...

No! Don’t let yourself think that. Julian was lying to you. There was a cure out there. If Vesuvia could be completely rid of the Red Plague within days, there was something that could do the same for whatever Asra has. What was it called again, Hanahaki disease? You’re still not sure what it is. Julian shut down the moment he read those words in one of his books. You’re still in the dark, but it doesn’t matter. 

“I think it’s time I tell you... everything.” Asra reaches for your hand, but pulls away at the last moment.

Everything? Everything as in all the secrets you’ve been denied over the years? He was going to tell you why he never brought you along on his journeys, why he wouldn’t speak about your family, your missing memories, the painful headaches? 

Why do you suddenly feel so sick? There’s got to be a reason why he’s coming clean after being so adamant earlier... and then you remember the blood.

Oh no.

“How do I start...” Asra sighs. “This is harder than I’d ever imagined, m/c.���

“Just say it.”

Eyes still trained on you, Asra lifts the cup of tea to his lips once again and breathes out deeply...

-

He’s in love with me.

The words ring through your head. 

Out of everything you just learned, that struck the hardest. Harder than the realization that you had died. You always knew that- somehow. That wasn’t the shocking factor. 

You’re waiting for your heart to catch up- but it never seems to. You’re just staring ahead of you, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s in love with me. We were in love- for years. 

“M/c...? M/c! Can you hear me?” 

He’s so frantic, it’s contagious. His voice finally pulls you out of your own head.

“Yes! Yes, I’m sorry. I...” 

You clutch your teacup, practically waiting for it to shatter in your palm.  And then the tears come. 

“Asra... are you dying?”

When he’s quiet, the tears come harder.  It still feels like there are things he won’t speak up about- things you may never know. It’s not fair! Doesn’t he understand what you’re feeling right now?  He brought you back from the dead and you just have to brush over that tidbit because you’re so overwhelmed by the progressing illness- an illness that he clearly knows something about and still won’t tell you.

The guilt on Asra’s face seems to weigh him down. He’s barely looking at you at this point. 

“Please... don’t cry.” He whispers.

“Don’t cry?” You exclaim. “How am I supposed to be okay right now?”

Despite your bitter response you bite down on your lip and hastily wipe the tears from your face. Your throat feels so raw, painfully constricting during the silence. 

“I can’t lose you, Asra.”

Your eyes meet before you can finish the sentence. There it is again. Those cosmic purple eyes bore into you while you struggle to find the words. 

“...Because I love you.”

“...Because you’re my best friend.”

[pascal-isaac]

ache.

Din Djarin x Reader Rating/Warnings: Angst, Brief mentions of very mild sex, Fluff

The child was tired. You were tired. He sensed your frustration, pain, exhaustion- which only made him give back in full force. You didn’t blame him, he was a baby, he didn’t understand why you were upset, only knew that something was wrong and he didn’t like it. As much as you attempted to hold in your feeling, push any fear and aching down, he still knew. And you didn’t have his dad here to help. The mandalorian man in question has been gone for 4 weeks, 2 days, and 17 hours, 3 and half of those weeks without a comm letting you know if he was okay- or even alive. You started tearing up again at the thought, but when the child in your arms began to do the same you quickly stopped yourself and cooed at him, holding him close and attempting to diffuse the tension.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry, please it’s ok ad’ika. Please don’t cry.” You tried calming him, but the more you tried, the harder the tears from both of you came. Stress from the last few weeks built up, pushed and pulled at your mental health because you didn’t know if Din was coming back, and your heart ached for the man, for him to come walking up the ramp of the Crest into your arms, to hold you and apologize for being gone so long. But he wasn’t here and you had to be here for the child you shared, had a responsibility and oath to care for your children, even alone.

“Come on my love, I’m sorry for upsetting you.” You bounced the crying child on your hip, walking over to the refresher to get some warm water running. Perhaps a bath and some warm blue milk would calm him. He hiccuped in your arms, large dark eyes peering at you, watching your moves in an effort to read your emotions. Setting him down to grab the small wash bin you kept in case you needed to bathe him or do laundry, you left it under the head of the flowing water, letting it fill while you grabbed oils and soaps from a market on a planet a few months ago. Slowly the tiny green child walked over to you, hands on the edge of the tub, tears slowly drying, watching you move the liquid around, bubbles forming in its place.

“Come on, arms up ad’ika.” Slowly he lifted his head and arms, allowing you to take off the little brown sack he wore, careful to not pull at his large yet adorable ears. He seemed to calm once in the water, sitting and moving his hands through the bubbles. You rested your head kn the arm that was along the edge of the tub as you watched him, taking a cloth and running the warm water along his back. He missed Din. You missed Din. The child knew it was odd for his father to be gone for so long, hearing you cry and whimper after night alone in the cot you shared with Din didn’t help ease his anxieties either. Your food source depleted, in a few days you’d have to leave the ship to replenish. You wanted to leave, start the ship and go looking for him. But what if he came back and you weren’t here. You didn’t know how long you’d stay, how long until it was time to give up, if ever? Once you deemed the child clean, you toweled him off and grabbed a clean new sack for him to wear. The milk was warmed and ready for him, but he was still fussy, tired from an emotional day. Grabbing an all too familiar tattered fabric, you went to lay on the cot, wrapping yourself around the child, Din’s old cape thrown across both of you- a security blanket to ease your suffering. Smelling the familiar scent of his dad, the child’s eyes started to blink, ears drooping in exhaustion. A few tears escaped your eyes as you ran your fingers over his forehead, small nose, and long ears, soothing his face and humming an old lullaby from your home planet.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum...” You whispered, to the child mostly, but also to Din, wherever he was. Soon his soft snores filled the area where the cot sat, his three fingers holding on to your forearm that was around him, snuggling deeper into your embrace. You didn’t want this to be a habit, didn’t want the child to get used to sleeping in the cot with his parents. However after the 2nd week alone you decided that you and the child needed comfort.

You thought back to the last time you had Din in the cot with you. A slow and sultry morning, the morning he was to leave on a bounty, promising you he’d be back in no more than a week. You tried to remember everything about him in that moment, his touch, so soft and gentle, gliding up and down your skin when he woke you. His lips, slightly chapped, but still soft and full of love. His voice, slightly rough and groggy from sleep, but unhindered with the lack of his helmet, whispering all the thoughts he had, all the love he felt for you in that moment and every other. Was that the last time you shared with him? When he kissed you on the forehead and pressed his own against the child’s, was that a goodbye forever? You shook with grief, willing yourself to be silent for the child’s sake, pulling your face into the pillow Din used, his sent long gone and replaced with your own. Sleep came, not easily, but it did.

Snoring woke you, the child snored, but not this loud. Waking to check in his well-being you weren’t greeting with the green wrinkled skin and soft white hairs atop his head, but dark brown curls.

“Din?” You questioned, shifting back slightly, closing your eyes in an attempt to wake up if you were dreaming. Only when you opened them, the dark curls didn’t disappear, the deep snoring didn’t cease, and the weight of his arm around your waist was real. Crying and hiccuping, trying to catch your breath, you looped your arms around his wide shoulders, pulling him deeper, nearly suffocating him in your chest, inhaling his scent just because you needed to ground yourself and remember what it was like. He came to, mumbling about something or other, arms tightening around you.

“Please, please tell me this isn’t a dream my riduur, please tell me you’re actually here.” You whimpered, afraid to pull back and lock eyes with him, in fear that if you did- he’d vanish. Din only nodded, shifting to pull back and force you to come to the conclusion that he was here, but you closed your eyes. Like so many months ago, when his face was still a mystery, you closed your eyes to respect his creed. However this time it wasn’t out of respect, it was out of fear. Fear that it wasn’t true.

“Look at me cyare, please.” He whispered, voice thick with sleep still on his tongue. “Cyar’ika, its me. Please let me see you, don’t deny me this moment.” He brushed at your eyelashes, running his finger down your nose and over your lips, his hand coming back to rest on your cheek. Slowly, you opened your eyes, meeting his dark brown ones. Tears flowed freely when a cry ripped through you, but instead of pulling him into a kiss like you wanted, you sat up and slapped him. Din didn’t expect that emotional reaction, however he still sat up right and pulled you into his chest, whispering apologies. It was a reaction- out of anger or pain you didn’t know. Maybe it was to really see if he was real, feel his skin under yours. And to give him a little of the pain you had been feeling for a month.

“I’m sorry my love. I’m so sorry.” He cried into your neck, tightening his hold on you, voice breaking into your skin. He ached as well. Ached to be in your arms, ached every night to lay in the cot you shared, holding the child between you both.

“I tried so hard to come back sooner. I lost track of the bounty. My vambrace was damaged so I couldn’t comm you. Please forgive me my riduur, please cyare.” When his tears touched your skin, you broke. You cried and wrapped your arms back around his shoulders, feeling the skin that was kissed with scars. Using one hand you reached back to his face and pulled it from your neck, making him face you, fingers digging into his jaw. Wet tears kissed his cheeks, curls unruly from sleep, large scar on his nose, and he looked just like you remembered. You cut off his apology, kissing him deeply, lips chapped and soft like you remembered. It wasn’t the romantic, passionate kiss you imagined when he came back. Still full of emotion, but pain. Whimpers and gasping into each other, catching your breath through the tears as you tried to remember what the other person tasted like. Din pushed you back into the pillow, his scent back in the fabric, and kissed you harder, his tears dropping from his face onto yours.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry cyar’ika... please... forgive me...my love...my riduur...I beg you.” Din’s begging was punctuated with a kiss, each on a different part of your face. He truly hated himself. He knew the pain he put your through, knew the anxieties you had with him leaving and continuing to hunt bounties. But he had to provide for his family, his aliit of three, he swore to himself that he’d never let you both go without. So here he was, begging for your forgiveness because he left you. Little did he know that you forgave him before he even got back. You forgave him as soon as he was in your presence again. You forgave him weeks in when you didn’t think he’d return. You forgave him as he walked down the Crest to his bounty. You forgave him that morning when he made love to you in the dark of your hidden cot space. You forgave him when he mentioned the bounty, how he wanted some extra credits so you didn’t have to worry. You forgave him because you weren’t truly mad at him, you were mad at yourself. If it wasn’t for you, he would only have to worry about the child, a small mouth to feed. He wouldn’t worry about the way you stared too long at the necklace while you were walking through the market a few months ago- buying to for you because he wanted you happy. He wouldn’t worry about having to get you a specific type of soap because the last one made your skin itch. He wouldn’t worry about you. But he did. And you blamed yourself for that, and for his absence.

“Din, baby it’s ok. It’s ok please look at me” Pulling his face away from yours, you let him see you, your own tears matching his. “I forgave you so long ago Din. I’m sorry, I just- I missed you so much my love.” You held his face between your hands, reaching up with one to softly brush his curls from his face, to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome...” Whispering softly while you smiled, the vows you both swore to, telling Din that you both will always be one. Nodding softly he gave a soft smile, laying back down to face you, trying to relax again, his arms tight around your waist, scared to let go. He looked exhausted, his face tense, shoulders tight with stress. Trying to ease him, you ran your fingers over his scrunched forehead, curved nose, and ears, soothing his face and softly humming the lullaby that he’d ask you to sing when he couldn’t sleep.

[minyoonmeme]

Redolent

Word count: 1494

Pairing: Jhope/Jung Hoseok x reader/OC 

Description: Redolent - strongly reminiscent or suggestive of (something)

Genre/Warnings: very sad and very angsty (I got a little emotional writing this, oh gosh)

[See author’s note as the end, please] 

masterlist

To, My Sweet Angel

I feel dull. My ears ring from the grey static bouncing off the walls. My hands ache from the cold, no sufficient source of heat able to insulate the missing warmth. Had the cold always stung? My eyes and head are dotted with dizzying spells as I sway and attempt to clear the fogginess of my sadness. My feet, although stiff and pained, continue to dance. It’s a forced two-step filled with hiccups and short fits of uncontrollable sobs. A slow regression of minor notes has taken over the once lively accompaniment. My ears ring, but I can hear the haunting cadence of D minor. A key so soul-stirring, Schubart, a German Poet, once claimed it was a key “of brooding despair, of blackest depression, of the most gloomy condition of the soul.” Oh, how correct he was.

My suffering is not all for naught, for eventually, with time, I will learn that my feet will only add to the despair around me. Any melody was better than none at all, perhaps.

Eventually, a routine is set and so the dance continues.

My lips sip at the same mug filled with coffee every morning. The carpet still receives the same brutal dragging of feet as I force myself back and forth between the empty apartment, trying to ready myself for another day. I learn to memorize a routine from before. It’s new and familiar all at once. 

Months go by and the dance becomes easier. My feet no longer remain planted and instead have found a slow progression of turns. But turning makes my body ache and creates a dizzy haze. My feet have twice now developed rug burns as I get excited and twirl more than I am able to do so. Eventually, however, I collapse. There are hands set to catch me, but they remind me of you too much and I find myself wishing they would’ve just let me fall. Let my bones feel the same burn my feet do everyday. 

I expect their hands to retreat and for me to stagger, but they stay. Firm and sure despite everything. They hold no pressure, but serve only as a gentle reminder of company. Of care. I try to shake them off, but they are firm and steady. My faint grip proves fruitless, and I continue to let them guide me. I am delicate within their hold, as they never push nor pull too hard on my frail form. They’ve given me a new dance and are kind enough to guide me through it as I stagger. Eventually, I’ll grow attached to the feeling of someone being near, and find the strength to return their hold. One day, may we hold each other up. One day, I will not be a dead weight for their arms. One day, I will them and myself in a waltz set upon marble where we may glide with the burn.

Times proves me correct once again.. 

I do learn to stand on my own… only to feel my knees collapse once more beneath me.. 

What would you think of me? So weak and helpless, nothing like the person you had once known. My appearance has faltered from what you once knew, from what you had once deemed beautiful and kind. The dancing has halted to a complete stop, and the only sound that echoes from me is the sound of my own deafening sobs and painful hiccups. It causes a pain in my chest too deep to just be from my wailing. The dissonance continues once again as I claw numbly at the hollow spot where my heart used to lay. Rain swallows my form as I wallow in the bitter saltiness. 

I feel hands return once more in my time of need, and I try this time to keep them from me. I cry harder and swing wildly at the pressing form. Do they not understand that I don’t want their hands? They’re too large, too warm, and too suffocating. They are not your hands. They will never be your hands. Never again. 

“Let me go!” I beat against them screaming. “Didn’t you hear me? I said, let go! You fucking piece of shit…” My voice chokes and I find myself heaving against their chest desperately. My throat aches from screaming, leaving my mouth to silently open and close as I let the rain pour once more, this time over the two of us. How long had it been since i last heard another’s heart beat? How long has it been since I last heard yours?

Their strength proves to be enough for the both of us once again as they lift my drenched form onto wobbly legs. they know that I’m weak, that if I try to stand I will fall, so they hold me; but, it feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. The air feels too harsh, children’s cries overpower laugher and the sun sets too earlier. Every cliché feels real and everything is too much once again. Every color has faded to match my dull mood despite the copious amount of stimulation running through my mind. 

Someone runs their hand through my hair and hushes over my silent crying. The night greets me sweeter than the sun, and I gladly retreat under the stars. 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper to no one after they’ve left for but a moment. “I don’t want to be weak anymore.” I need you. 

My shoulders shake as I begin to cry again, but my upper body is stuffed between a pair of arms around me. They know the dance well, but my shoes have filled with the bitter rain and weigh down my legs. My bare feet still feel the rawness from my previous lonesome dance. But together, we move. It’s different from before and my body screams in agony, but I let him lead. I let the dance continue because I do not know how to. 

Would you scowl and disapprove of our clumsy movements? It’s nothing compared to your skillful movements of grace and love and care. It’s nothing compared to our dance. A waltz unlike another other filled with hundreds of sympathies and years of practice that if I look hard enough, can still see our tracks along the carpet in the living room. Perhaps, if you saw our dance, our flimsy excuse of a dance, you could come back under some miracle. I always thought you had some sort of magical ability with the way you smiled fluttered about our home. They are not you, no one could ever compare my dear, but they help me live and keep me afloat. I can continue with them. I hope you can forgive me for continuing without you with another. 

The music changes when they hold me upright once more, and I can keep the rain at bay longer than before. Together we shift from a minor to major and raise the tempo to something more lively. It’s not entirely too happy of a melody, but it leaves me humming nonetheless. 

Inside I am sure they know I am comparing the two dances, but they say nothing. I stumble in our new dance, falling into our old forgotten one by mistake, but they only gather my hands while silently guiding me back to them once more. They are kinder than I deserve, but I say nothing selfishly absorbing every contact and movement.

They remind me of you in many ways and I suppose that’s why I let them linger for so long. they care for others just as you had, and smiles for my sake despite my actions inflicting their pure heart at times. I don’t mean to hurt them, but you’ve strung yourself deep within the walls of my heart that it’s hard to look past the intricate woven patterns. One day I will back and apologize for using their kindness to better myself. And one day I know they will respond with only more love. Love I am not sure I am deserving of, but love I will accept nonetheless. You would want that wouldn’t you?

With time I know I will improve. I will continue to dance for you, but this time with someone else. I hope you will forgive me for this, but know that I am happy. That one day I will be very happy. I will smile for you, showing the world what was once a smile as blinding as the sun. My eyes will continue to search for you as I hold onto someone else, and I hope you don't hold too much hate in your heart for me when we see each other again. I can not wait to see you. I can not wait to hold you and see your smile without feeling as if I am piercing my own chest. I miss you. I will always miss you, my dear. 

With more love than you could imagine, 

Your Love.

Notes: Hey guys, Happy New Year! This one was a little sad, but I wrote this to cope with a lost loved one who committed suicide in January a couple of years ago. January has been a little hard for me ever since then, so I felt like I needed to express that somehow rather than keeping it in. This is meant to be a little vague and open for you guys to imagine who is writing this and what’s happened, however. I wanted this to express the pain of trying to “move on” and cope with losing someone or something. If you or someone you know is having a hard time, please reach out to someone let them know they’re being thought of and loved or that you need someone. 

[kofubisha]

beheld chapter 2 / 2

here’s the second part of my kofubisha fic for the @noragamibigbang! i hope you guys enjoyed this. i worked really hard on it because i love women. the gorgeous art for this chapter is by @viinas so go compliment it a lot or else.

after many years;

Kofuku has grown accustomed to comfort. She likes having her own place, where she can sleep in a soft bed, and cook whatever she grows, and have things that are hers.

So little has ever been hers.

Before Bishamon installed her in this place, it had been little more than a dump, smothered in graffiti and bearing a pervasive odor of rotten food. But the shinki of a god of fortune are eager to please, and in less than a day they had cleaned out the yard, scoured the interior, repaired the damaged roof and porch, and moved a set of modest—but comfortable—furniture into the house.

At the time, Kofuku wondered if Bishamon would expect more from her than mere auguries. A binbōgami could be a powerful ally—or enemy—no matter how filthy their reputation. However, Kofuku did not really believe an honorable war god like Bishamon would strike that low—and she was right. She has always been an excellent judge of character: a thought that makes her smile.

Between her cupped palms, Kofuku holds a clay cup of sake. Another cup sits opposite her on the low wooden table. At that moment, a voice comes from outside the open front door.

“Do you still want me to knock?”

“You have to!” Kofuku shouts back. “Otherwise it doesn’t count!”

The owner of the voice doesn’t sigh, but Kofuku can tell they want to. After a moment, she hears two deliberate knocks against the doorframe.

“Come in!” she chirps, and Bishamon enters, bare feet silent against the rough wooden floor.

“Is this something you brewed yourself?” she asks without preamble, eyeing the cup before sitting down at the table.

Kofuku grins, watching Bishamon peer skeptically into her own cup. “Yes it is!”

“How strong is it?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what this is going to do to us,” Kofuku admits, before promptly tipping her head back and emptying the cup in one go. The sake hits the back of her throat with a satisfying burn, and she slams the cup back down onto the table with gusto.

As soon as the cup touches the table, it shatters. Shards of clay spray across the table and floor, and when Kofuku looks down at her hand she goes white. A sizable piece of clay remains embedded in the flesh next to her thumb. As she stares down at it, numb with shock, blood starts to bead at the edges of the wound.

“Ow.”

Before she can say any more, Kofuku’s hand is taken in a firm, yet gentle grip. She sobs—more in surprise than pain—as Bishamon expertly pulls the clay shard out of her palm.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you live on your own,” Bishamon mutters as she cleans the edges of the wound. “Or do you just save all your injuries for when you see me?”

“Aw, you worry about me!”

Kofuku smiles at Bishamon, who can’t quite keep her own lips from twitching upward.

“Of course I worry about you,” she says with a hint of fondness. “I have never known anyone so unlucky.”

Bishamon’s attention is focused on the wound, so she doesn’t see the smile slide off Kofuku’s face. Nor does she notice when Kofuku’s voice is a bit too casually cheerful as she says:

“Besides, without me, you war gods wouldn’t know where the next storm is going to break out.”

“It would be all right, I think,” Bishamon says absently, tightening up the bandage. “After all, we are in a time of unprecedented peace and quiet. You rarely predict any surprises.”

Bishamon finishes neatly tucking the edges of the bandage. She doesn’t seem to notice how Kofuku has gone utterly quiet. If she does, she doesn’t comment on it, merely returning to her own cup of sake and sampling it with caution.

“This is…good, actually.” Bishamon’s face lights up with pleasant surprise, and she empties the cup in one generous gulp. “You should expand your business selling this.”

“A poverty god expanding her business…” Kofuku muses, tapping her chin with a single finger. She smiles, but can’t quite make the mirth reach her eyes. “I see nowhere that could go wrong.”

Bishamon nudges her cup across the table, and Kofuku refills it without comment. However, Bishamon makes no move to take her cup back.

“You are upset.”

It’s not phrased as a question. Kofuku goes very still for a moment, before snatching up the full cup of sake and hurrying into the kitchen.

“Don’t be silly, Bisha,” she says cheerily over her shoulder. “Why would I be upset?”

“That is what I don’t know.”

Bishamon is already in the kitchen, blocking her path. Kofuku yelps, the cup tumbling out of her hand. This time instead of shattering against the wood, it hits her big toe. The cup rolls away across the floor as the rest of the sake pools lazily around Kofuku’s feet.

“Ouch!” she cries out, hopping once on her undamaged foot.

At that exact moment, her heel lands on a particularly slippery bit of floor. Both her legs shoot out from under her in a single, smooth motion that might, in other circumstances, be considered graceful. But before Kofuku can even scream, a pair of arms scoops her out of midair, and once again Bishamon is looking down at her with an expression of deep concern.

“You really should not be living by yourself,” she reiterates, moving a safe distance away from the patch of wet floor before setting Kofuku back on her feet. “Are you quite sure you don’t need a shinki of your own?”

Kofuku barely hears the words.

It had been so brief—just a few seconds, but it had happened. Someone had carried her. For one moment, out of the fullness of all time, she had been held.

“Kofuku?”

Bishamon’s concerned voice reaches her ears as though through deep water. Her face, too, wavers in front of her eyes like a warped reflection. How odd, Kofuku thinks. Then she realizes she’s crying.

“What is it? Is it your foot? What can I do?”

Bishamon sounds almost frantic. If Kofuku wasn’t busy with inconsolable weeping, she might be tempted to laugh at how quickly the greatest of all war gods panics at the sight of a crying woman.

“It’s because…because you probably hate me,” Kofuku finally manages to choke out, and as the words leave her mouth, she wishes she could gobble them right back up. The look of wounded shock on Bishamon’s face cuts straight to her heart.

“Hate you?” she repeats quietly. “Why?”

Kofuku quiets a last few hiccuping sobs. She has never felt more miserable in her life.

“It’s…it’s nothing,” she says, cringing at how false it rings. Bishamon doesn’t even grace the lie with a response. Kofuku shuts her eyes, wishing she could sink straight into Yomi and rot there.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers. “It’s me. I…”

Her lip trembles. If this is really going to happen, she might as well do it right.

“Don’t you realize how strange this is, Bisha?”

Kofuku can feel the other goddess watching her, but when she opens her eyes she keeps them resolutely fixed on a blank spot on the wall.

“Don’t you hear things about me, up there? What do they tell you about your friend, the poverty god?”

Bishamon inhales as if to speak, but Kofuku shakes her head.

“I need to say this now, or I’ll never forgive myself,” she says, the truth of it slowly dawning on her. She almost wants to laugh at her own inescapable, ruinous stupidity. Then she wants to cry until her body dries up and dissolves into dust.

“We need to end this friendship,” Kofuku says. She is proud of herself for how little her voice shakes. “It isn’t right—it isn’t normal for you to be friends with me, Bisha. It’s bad for your reputation.”

Before she even finishes talking, Kofuku sees the stubborn set of Bishamon’s chin. This isn’t going to be easy.

“Have I indicated at any point that I care what the other gods think?” Bishamon retorts. “It is not their place to question my decisions—and frankly, neither is it yours.”

Kofuku’s face flushes with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and tears begin gathering in her eyes once again.

“I’m trying to help you,” she wails. “You said yourself you didn’t need my auguries anymore! You don’t have to visit me out of obligation! I’m telling you that it’s fine…it’s fine if you want to end our bargain.”

She stares down at her own feet, tears silently rolling down her face. Her heart is in shambles, but at least she can move forward with a good conscience. Bishamon, at least, will not suffer because of her.

“You don’t actually think I would do that.”

Kofuku expects to hear anger in her voice, or perhaps hurt. Instead, Bishamon sounds almost…relieved.

Shocked, she looks up to see a smile spreading across Bishamon’s face. Something in her stomach does a funny flip, and she feels the tips of her ears turning pink.

It really isn’t fair. This is supposed to be a goodbye, and all Kofuku can focus on is the warmth and loveliness of that smile.

“I have so few real friends,” Bishamon says, mercifully oblivious. “Sometimes it feels like I cannot talk to anyone. My shinki rely on me, and I refuse to burden them. I enjoy spending time with the other gods, but in many ways they still treat me as an outsider.”

Her smile fades. For a moment, the look on her face is one of savage, almost frightening loneliness. Kofuku recognizes it at once. She’s seen it many times before: staring back at her from every reflection since the first moment she could comprehend the scope of her own solitude.

“Even if that were not the case,” Bishamon continues. “Reputation is of such little consequence to me. If the other gods are petty and shiftless enough to form opinions on my business, then I have no use for them.”

There is a hard streak of annoyance in her voice, and Kofuku realizes it’s already happened. As much as the knowledge fills her with shame, she also can’t help but feel pleasantly warm at the idea of Bishamon defending her.

Suddenly, she realizes that Bishamon has gone silent, eyes fixed on her face with strange intensity. Then, suddenly, she reaches out to cup Kofuku’s face between her hands, cradling it like something precious.

“I will never believe them,” she says quietly, earnestly. “I never have before.”

Kofuku is trembling from head to foot.

“I love you,” she says, because if she doesn’t say it right now she might never say it, and if she never says it she’ll die. To her immense relief, Bishamon does not look surprised or angry.

In fact, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are lustrous.

“I thought you might,” she replies breathlessly.

after some hours;

The glow of sunrise begins to turn the inside of Kofuku’s eyelids pink, and she burrows more snugly into the blankets. Her cold toes encounter something warm: a leg. Its owner yelps, kicking back at her.

“You promised to stop doing that,” Bishamon mutters into the pillow.

She looks particularly precious in the morning, Kofuku decides. Her hair is rumpled, her cheeks pink and soft-looking as she yawns herself gradually awake. Then she gives Kofuku a piercing glare.

“What are you thinking about?”

Kofuku blinks innocently. “Nothing.”

“No.” Bishamon smiles suddenly, quick and bright as lightning. “I know what it looks like when you’re thinking nothing. Your face looks like this.”

And she does an extremely unflattering imitation of the expression. Kofuku flicks her forehead.

“You’re not supposed to tease me, Bisha.”

“Why not?” Bishamon challenges, sinking back onto the pillows. “You told me to practice my humor.”

“I don’t think physical comedy suits you.”

Bishamon pouts, which makes Kofuku laugh out loud, and then she kisses her. They kiss a great deal that morning, sweet and soft at first, then hungrier.

Kofuku learns what makes humans hold each other so fiercely, even while their frail bodies remain so doomed. It is a wonderful feeling, this closeness. Maybe the two of them can cradle it between their hearts, like a small fire.

For a time, at least, she thinks with a smile.

after decades;

It is the dead of summer. Outside, the creaky song of cicadas is the only disturbance in the close, muggy air. Within the house, five figures lie flat, their sweaty foreheads pressed to the cool floor in the hopes that some of the earth’s natural chill will provide relief.

Yukine is the first to roll over, his cheeks flushed and eyes glassy with misery.

“We just need a distraction,” he says.

“Like what?” Hiyori says, her voice muffled against the floor.

“A drinking contest!” proposes Kofuku, who seems to miraculously recover all of her energy at the prospect.

“Absolutely not,” Daikoku vetoes, though he remains motionless facedown.

“I’ll get out the sake,” Yato says, lurching to his feet. Before Daikoku can grab his ankle to stop him, a voice calls from outside the house:

“Hello?”

The front door slides open, revealing the voice’s owner, and Kofuku springs to her feet with all memory of exhaustion forgotten.

“Bisha!”

Bishamon catches her effortlessly, spinning in an elegant circle before setting Kofuku on her feet once more. Her mouth softens with amusement.

“We thought you might like some company down here,” she says.

“Completely unrelated to the fact that Yato texted me and asked me to bring an air conditioner,” Kazuma adds, following her inside. The air conditioning unit appears next, carried between Kuraha and Yugiha.

“We brought alcohol,” Kinuha adds, carrying several heavy-looking paper bags.

The rest of Bishamon’s team troops into the house, and in short order the air conditioner is blasting at full strength. The four bodies plastered to the floor start to regain vitality as the room rapidly cools down.

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant haze. Daikoku, Yukine, and Hiyori eventually retreat to the kitchen to scare up enough snacks to pass around. A drinking contest does indeed get underway, which results in several of Bishamon’s shinki having to be put to bed in various states of inebriation. Yato and Yukine both end up sprawled on the floor next to the air conditioner. Hiyori sits against the wall next to them, tiredly fanning herself. With a groan of effort, Daikoku hauls himself to his feet and stretches mightily.

“We’d better start cleaning up,” he says in resignation. “Kofuku!”

"She disappeared about an hour ago,” Yukine mumbles, his eyes at half-mast. “Not sure where.”

Kazuma rouses himself from his own spot on the floor, squinting around the room through his crooked glasses.

“…Has anyone seen Viina?”

: : :

On the roof of the house the air feels slightly cooler. A tiny breeze tangles the curls around Kofuku’s ears and tugs a few silvery strands from Bishamon’s braid. Light spills out across the yard from the first floor, and the two of them can easily hear the voices of the others in the house. Currently, Yato and Kinuha seem to be arm-wrestling. Based on the amount of yelling, there is money involved.

“They must still be having fun,” Bishamon comments after a loud crash and a bloodcurdling scream.

“I think she broke his wrist,” says Kofuku.

Bishamon’s expression is flat. “Like I said,” she repeats. “They must still be having fun.”

Kofuku giggles, then flops backward onto the roof. After a few moments, Bishamon follows suit.

In a few hours, Daikoku will find them both fast asleep, curled into each other, hands firmly intertwined. But for now they lie side-by-side, hearing the laughter of their friends, watching the milk-bright stars wink back at them from a crowded summer sky.

[ask-hetalia-jones-family]

STATE FILES

hey heres al being pretty,

Summary:

The USA goes into isolation for many years, then one day a few kids are in the world meeting ready to greet the nations. Now, certain Nations are being allowed within the US's border and are in for more then just a shock. Not only is the US much more advanced but Alfred lets them in on his little secret.

State oc story! I will make the canon america ship (Pruame/ Prussia x America) skip able so there is no need to worry about a ship with Alfred

Links to elsewhere to read it

WattPad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/222120798-usa-reopened

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23822452/chapters/57240190

—————-—————-—————-

Chapter one: Isolation

—————-—————-—————-

 “What do you mean by isolation?” England asked America as he stood at the podium.

“My new president, Ms Angela Gracia, is going to be isolating the US for a minimum of 15 years. I will send letters and limited photos but other than that I will not be allowed to go out of my country, but I can still text, call and stuff!” Alfred smiled at the last part. 

“Alfred,” Brazil asked, “What about trades?” they asked, many were anxious about that topic. 

“We’ll continue to buy things we can’t grow in the US! But many other things we will slowly stop buying, But a few months after we stop buying we will give you money for no product for the sake of ensuring countries can find new trading partners.” Alfred explained.

“Debt aru?” China asked.

“Continued to be paid”

“Game imports?” Japan asked.

“Will continued to be imported”

“Exports?” Korea asked, 

“Only certain things will continue”

“Puerto Rico?” Cuba asked, tapping his figures on the table. 

“Depending if they want to join as a state,”

“If they don’t?” Cuba pressed annoyed.

“I will personally escort her right to you” Alfred said clearly. Cuba seemed satisfied.

“Any other questions?” Alfred asked. 

There were no further questions

———

A month passed and now the USA was in official isolation. 

———

The next world meeting was very strange. Cuba and Spain were talking fast paced spanish with a little girl on Cuba’s laptop.

“Ve~ Who’s a she?” Italy asked, leaning to see the screen. 

The little girl gasped and turned yelling something to someone off screen, there was a fast reply in a southern accent but it was also in a language they didn’t know. 

“Puerto Rico, she's with Alfred but I can still call her.” Cuba explained with a grumble. 

“Hello hello hello” She repeated with a few giggles, “I’m Alondra!” 

“Ohh! Caoi Alondra!” Northern Italy smiled cheerily.

Matthew surprisingly has his feet on the table, Bear in his lap and was staring intently at his phone in a very serious text conversation with his brother. 

England was going on a rant about Canada’s manners and France was trying to get him off of Matthew’s back. 

———

Little was done that meeting. 

———

“Hey Mattie!” Alfred greeted over the phone.

“Hey Al,” Mathew said a smile shining threw his voice.

“Long time no talk? It’s been what? 3 months? Ya been busy?” Alfred asked joyfully. 

“Yeah, it’s been a bit more difficult with your ships out of the water but everything’s fine” Matthew said with the sound of a keyboard in the background.

“Yeah, it’ll be hard for a while but I promise it will be ok in the long run. I won’t let you get hurt in all of this” Alfred explained chipperily. 

“I trust you Alfie, I just wish I could visit and see what’s happening over there” Matthew sighed.

“I wish I could tell you, and bring you over here,” Alfred sighed thinking to himself.

“Describe it.” “What?” “Describe the advancements, not how it’s happening just how it is.” Matthew explained. 

“Oh. Hmmm.” Alfred looked out the window at the rolling hills, trees and cleaner air.

“You can smell the trees in the middle of time square. The grass is a beautiful green. It really is beautiful Mattie,” Alfred sighed. 

Matthew smiled seeing the image in his mind, “I need to go Alfred, thank you,” Matthew said.

“Ok, I’ll talk to you later Mattie” They hung up with smiles. 

———

“Hey Molossia!” Sealand greeted.

“Do you realize what fucking time of day it is Peter?” Micheal grumbled, rubbing his eyes looking at the red numbers on his bedside clock.

“Uhhh, a time?”

“6 am” Micheal muttered glaring at the clock. 

“Oh! Well do you want to play or not? Dad let me on the computer all day because I’ve been good all week and he said he and Papa have to clean the house,” Peter explained with a shrug. 

“Just give me a minute, who else is on?” Micheal yawned. 

“Seborga, Ladonia, Wy, River Hutt, oh! And Kugelmugel is joining after their piano lessons.” Peter explained briefly. 

“Alright, let me find my mouse,” Micheal sighed. He grabbed his laptop and mouse and flopped back onto his bed and turned on discord and grabbed his headset from his lamp on his bed. He got onto discord. “I’ll get on Discord” Micheal hung up as he connected his headphones. He joyed the call.

“Ciao! Micheal! How’s isolation?” Seborga asked with his joy shining through his voice.

“Good, hope ya’ll don’t burn down the meeting house while i’m fucking gone.” Micheal sighed as he logged onto their server. 

“We won’t! You think so lowly of us” Wy huffed annoyed. 

----------

“Kenneth?”

“Yes Alferd?” “Is this the right thing to do?”

“Yes.”

“But people are suffering Kenny” “I know Alfred, but think about it. We can do much more good once we get clean power. He can close the gap” 

“Really?”

“Ofcourse, you have my word and heart of my first land of Vinland”

“Ok” 

“Don’t cry Alfred, I promise this will all get better, ok?” Kennth promised, Alfred just silently nodded an ok. 

///Small  not so much hinted- Hinted Pruame//

“Come on, why don’t you call Gilbert? I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed.” Kenneth suggested. Alfred smiled, wiping his tears away. “Ok” Alfred murmured as he went to grab his phone. 

Alfred sat on his bed calling Gilbert, he kicked his feet as he waited for Gilbert to pick up. 

“Hello?” Gilbert asked.

“Hey Gil,” Alfred said a smile already shining threw his voice. But Gilbert knew Alfred better than that.

“You’ve been crying, Liebling” Gilbert said bluntly.

“I don’t think I can get through this isolation thing, Gil,” Alfred hiccuped. 

Gilbert slowly walked, Alfred through calming down. It was a slow process but Alfred had calmed down after a while, he was curled under the sheets with Gilbert’s hoodie on, it was too big for him but made Alfred feel safe. 

“I’ll stay on the line until you get to sleep alright?” Gilbert asked, he himself was in bed with Gilbird nesting in an old pillow on the nightstand as his old cat purred at his side. 

“Ok Gil.” Alfred yawned, he was tired after his crying.

“Ich liebe dich Liebling” Gilbert said with the most loving voice Alfred could hear,

“Love you too Gilbert.” Alfred yawned, his voice drifting.

[tickletastic]

Help A Brother Out

Rating: G/SFW

Warnings:

Word Count: 884

Fandom: DC

Ship: N/A

Summary: After a spell leaves Tim unable to feel, he calls on Dick to help him out.

Notes: Tickletober Day Nine: Spell. Sorry if this is formatted weird, this is my first mobile upload.

Tim was under a spell. He knew it because he couldn’t feel anything, no matter what he touched his useless limbs would not react or feel the stimuli. He knew he should’ve called one of his brothers last night when he was fighting that ‘wizard’ but he definitely didn’t anticipate this.

He could pick up anything, he couldn’t move anything, he couldn’t feel anything. He was kinda panicking.

“Alexa!” He shouted across his apartment, he was stuck in his bedroom and he couldn’t get the door open, so he prayed to God that Alexa or Siri or even Cortana could hear him from his living room.

He eventually heard the knowing click that meant that someone was listening, and he shouted as loud as he possibly could, “Call Dick!”

Soon enough, he could hear the familiar voice of his eldest brother, his groggy voice sounding confused from the other end, “Timmers? What’s up Little Wing?”

“Just come, come quick!”

Dick was there within minutes, full Nightwing costume on as he arrived via bedroom window.

“Why are you wearing that?” Tim questioned.

“You said get here quick, what’s quicker than swinging from building to building Spiderman-style?” Dick answered, nonchalantly.

Tim shrugged him off, hoping that his shoulders did what he asked them to, before explaining his situation to his brother in detail.

“Well…” Dick began after hearing of Tim’s ailment, “that’s not good at all.”

“Well duh.”

Dick hushed him, turning to Tim’s closet in search of clothes he could change into before dashing off into the bathroom to do so.

When Dick returned he held the keys of Tim’s Mercedes in hand.

They drove to the manner, where they were unexpectedly greeted with Jason’s motorcycle in the garage, walking in and going through the bookcase that would lead them down to the cave.

“Master Richard, Master Timothy, so good to see you. Master Bruce has been expecting you,” Alfred greeted them on his way up the stairs.

At the bottom, CCTV footage could be seen on Bruce’s computer. CCTV footage that happened to be of Tim’s rum in with the wizard.

“That wizard is known for spells that cause people to lose their sense of touch,” Bruce began, his back still to his sons, “I could only find one way to reverse it in the League’s catalogues.”

“Nice to see you too dad,” Dick greeted, helping Tim sit down.

“I thought it would be earlier to skip the formalities and get to the point, for Tim’s sake.”

“Thanks Bruce.”

“Anyways, as I was saying, the only way to get rid of the spell is to continually try to feel, like when a limb has fallen asleep. Maybe Dick, and Jason if he would like, could help you. Someone needs to administer touch to you that is as intense as possible without being painful. I would love to help, but I have a meeting to attend in an hour.”

Tim thanked Bruce as he exited the cave, wishing him goodbye. When he looked back at Dick, the older boy had a mischievous look in his eyes, a look that scared Tim to his core.

He didn’t have time to react until Dick was tickling his sides, which he couldn’t even feel but instinctively laughed from. As he opened his eyes, realizing that his laughter was unneeded, he spotted Jason out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey Jaybird, wanna help reverse a spell?” Dick keener, a smile on his face.

“If it’ll make the replacement suffer, then sure.”

Tim sat there as Jason started to squeeze his knees, and once again he automatically kicked out, despite his inability to truly experience the touch.

“I don’t know if this is working,” Tim explained, feeling no difference in feeling.

“It’ll work, don’t wo-“

Dick was interrupted by Tim’s boyish giggles, “Stop, stop, stop! I think ihihts bahack!”

Both Jason and Dick stopped, and Tim audibly cursed as he realized that once they had stopped so did his ability to feel.

“I guess we gotta keep going until it completely comes back,” Dick wondered out loud, laughing through his nose when Tim cursed again.

Jason and Dick continued, basking in Tim’s adorable giggles as the boy threw his head back and took it.

“Ihihit tihickles!” Tim snorted as Jason dipped a finger under his knee.

“Well duh,” Dick chuckled as he mocked his brother’s previous comment.

As this went on, Jason was peeling off Tim’s shoes and socks, and Tim himself didn’t realize until he felt fingers run up and down his bare sole. His laughter doubled in volume as he kicked out, unable to prevent himself from reacting.

“Ohohoho Gohohohod!”

Dick had an epiphany, of course tickling Tim’s worst spots would get him back to feeling quicker than any other sensation. He wondered why he hadn’t thought about that before as he shot his fingers up under his little brother’s arms.

Tim’s laughter evaded him as he flopped like a fish, squealing and giggling in bouts.

When he fell into silent hiccup-laced laughter, he knew that his feeling was definitely back, screaming out that he was okay now as his brothers slowed to a stop.

“Thahanks for the hehehelp,” Tim giggled out, rubbing his body free of the ghost-tickles.

“No problem replacement.”

“Glad we could help, Timmers.”

[aaron-royal]

To Stop Your Suffering

My heart thundered in my chest. I hadn’t been alive in so long it felt wonderful. The warmth, the feeling of the sun on my skin. Of course, being in a female body was very different for me, but I wouldn’t be in it for long, so it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Slowly and carefully I made my way inside of the white house. I opened the door to the President’s office. She was the last one I would need to contact, or rather drag to the location. “Hello President Clinton,” I said to the vile woman in front of me.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my home?!” She said.

“Don’t bother hitting your security button. What I am about to do, I need you to pay attention to. If you, and the others you will be with, do not listen, you will face what you see,” I said, grabbing the woman’s wrinkled hand and letting the feeling of death and depression overtake me. Probably forty people stood before me, the leaders of all the countries on earth, wearing radiation suits. I knew I looked different.

The world around us seemed burnt, and placid. The air was filled with radiation, and a fog blocked the sun from breaking the atmosphere. “If you don’t pay attention, this will be your future. It is already mine,” I said again, my voice a deeper pitch than it was before. My body was now pale white, almost transparent. My hair was a bright shade of white, my eyes blue unlike the brown I had for hair and eyes when I was alive. “Follow me,” I said as I turned around.

I began walking. “Two years ago,” I began as I walked slowly, knowing that one of the African leaders was most likely trying to record me,” a war started. Between all of the countries in the world. They eventually got so furious with each other, that one launched a radiation bomb. What you see now, and what you will see is the result of that bomb.”

I sighed, although I had no need for air. The radiation in the area made me visible, and almost tangible. I walked towards where I knew my best friend was camping out, leading some survivors. I had to help him, and this would explain why they needed to stop the war before it started. “One of these people was a friend of mine when I was alive. I died not long before the war in a skating accident. I became a ghost. The radiation made ghosts like me visible and brought back the recently dead. “

I ran a hand through my hair, massaging my scalp. That’s when I saw him. His wild hair was a tangled mess, and he was definitely stressed out. His green eyes reflected a sadness and depression even I hadn’t seen after I died. I walked up to him, and his head flew up to see me. “J-Jack?” he asked. Tears were in his eyes, but he held them back.

“Hey Hic,” I said, calling Hiccup by his old nickname.

“B-But how? I was there, I-I watched you fall in,” he whispered, grabbing onto me.

“I’m a ghost Hiccup. I’m sorry, but you need to move. The radiation makes ghosts visible, and at some points even touchable,” I said solemnly. His heart beat seemed to thunder from his chest, and he held me tightly.

“But where can we go? Everywhere is infested with the undead,” he muttered, squeezing me tightly.

“Follow me. Have everyone pack up their stuff, they trust you Unnan,” I said, the word I always had wanted to call him slipping from my mind and through my lips.

He smiled. “Jack, why did you have to say that now, and not before?” He asked.

I felt an eyebrow quirk, before I realized I had called him love in Norse. I was sure that if I had been alive my face would be a bright strawberry shade. “I uh,” I started, unsure of what to say for myself.

Hiccup smiled, his green eyes sparkling. “It’s fine. I trust you Jack.”

If I thought my heart was in my chest, I would have thought it was pounding. I still felt the warmth of a heart in my chest as I realized what he had meant. He moved towards his people and convinced them to pack up. Several of them pointed at me, and the presidents and ministers behind me that were following at a distance. They had made sure to stick together, of which I was very thankful for.

Hiccup nodded towards me, and I walked over to him. “Follow me, and when you can’t even make out my silhouette then you’re out of any dangerous radiation,” I said, putting an arm around his shoulder.

He nodded at me, and I couldn’t help but feel bad. But what I was doing, I was doing for him. By showing these people what their future might hold, I believed I could stop this from happening. I could stop his other friends, and his own father from dying. I could prevent the greatest cause of his suffering.

I moved my arm away from him as I noticed his shivering. Spirits are like ice, not that the cold ever bothered me when I was alive. We walked for a while, and a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes approached me. “Who are you?” She asked me as I led them forward.

“Someone helping you get out of the radiation zone. This will be your safest place, and you won’t all die of the cancer that radiation will give you,” I said, continuing forward. She seemed slightly creeped out, and I honestly couldn’t blame her.

I could feel the radiation in the area starting to go down slowly as we moved away from the landing of the bomb. I couldn’t help but look at my hands as we moved on, and I could begin to see through my pale hands. “Jack?” Hiccup asked, trying to place a hand on my shoulder. A loud gasp escaped his lips. “Y-You weren’t lying…” He said sadly, placing his hands over his mouth.

I shook my head. “No Hiccup. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you, but I’m doing what I can now. And right now, I need you to follow me away from here, for the sake of your survival, as well as those who follow you,” I said sadly. “I may disappear, but I will always be here with you,” I said, looking into his beautiful jade orbs. “I always have been,” I whispered. If I thought I could have touched him, I would have placed a hand on one of his warm cheeks.

He smiled at me, and it looked like he was getting ready to hug me when I noticed his arms relax. He knew he couldn’t touch me, and I felt bad that I couldn’t hold him when he needed the comfort. A small group of zombies approached. “Be still for a moment guys,” I said, putting my hand up as they approached. They knew the living were here, they could hear the heart beats. I pulled the radiation into my transparent form, and the ice in my body transferred itself to my hands as I lifted them up. They walked up to me as I walked towards them. I let the power leave my hands and put the heel of my palms towards them. Ice spiked towards them, piercing and impaling their heads.

I heard a series of gasps go through out the crowd as the ice retracted. I smiled at the feeling of Hiccup’s eyes on me, even though it wasn’t for the same reason as I would like him to look at me. The people I had brought seemed confused, and slightly terrified. I honestly couldn’t blame them though. They weren’t used to magical capabilities, and they would have to decide quickly in order to prevent this from happening in their timeline.

I sighed as the creatures fell to the ground. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” I said as I continued to move forward. I heard them following me slowly, but Hiccup was right next to me.

“Jack,” he started. “What was that?” He asked.

I couldn’t help but chuckled. “Sorry Ricky. Long story short, the radiation gives you a lot of cool stuff if you’re dead,” I said sadly, looking at him solemnly.

His jade eyes clashed with my blue ones. “You’re going to fade…. Aren’t you?” He asked.

I nodded. “I’ll still be stalking you of course,” I said, getting a small chuckle out of him. “And I’ll do my best to knock something over if you need an answer, but if you ever need words of encouragement it’s pretty fun creeping other people out and pushing people in the right direction with the wind,” I said.

He smiled at me, a large grin on his face as he tried to avoid laughing in such a serious situation. “Sure. Just what I need, you watching my every move and throwing snowballs at the most random times,” he said with a small, quiet giggle.

I chuckled, a placed an arm around his shoulder, even though I knew he could only feel a slight chill with how close we were to escaping the radiation zone. “Nah, I’ll just make sure to trip you ever once in a while to remind you how Klutzy you were back when we were kids even before you lost that other left foot of yours,” I said.

“Very funny. Make fun of my dancing ability back when I was five. Will you ever stop holding that against me?” he said with a groan.

“Hey, you broke my foot. I have every right to make fun of you,” I responded to the beauty by my side.

He chuckled. “Okay, good point.”

It felt surreal. We were talking and laughing about the good old days back before the war, when soon he wouldn’t be able to see or hear me. Well he wouldn’t be able to hear me very well anyway. I knew he was probably thinking the same thing, but as always Hiccup didn’t show it on his face. His jade eyes glimmered in the sunlight before rain clouds rolled in.

“We need to take shelter. The rain is acidic,” he said as he looked up.

I shook my head, although he would barely be able to see it. “There’s barely any radiation here. You’ll be fine. It’ll just look like Kool-Aid now,” I said with a chuckle, thinking back to prank I played on him and my little sister Emma before the war.

“Oh, please don’t. I was washing balloon chunks out of my hair for a week and it looked like you glazed my glasses,” he said as he shook his head. “It might freak them out even more anyway. Most of them call the walkers the “Children of Lazarus”,” he whispered.

“Isn’t that the dead guy that God cursed to live basically forever?” I asked, unsure as I wasn’t very religious myself.

“I think so. Remember my dad was more into Viking stuff than Christianity so I can’t really be sure,” he replied, before turning around. “ALRIGHT EVERYBODY TENTS UP! WE’VE GOT A STORM ROLLING IN!” he said in a commanding voice. Everyone around us acted quickly, and these plastic deer stands went up quickly. People were taping the sides together as they couldn’t be sure if they had the time to put screws and such inside to keep the holes together.

The people from the past stared at us. I left Hiccup alone to go and approached them. “This is what your wars will bring. What you are about to see in a few minutes is a blood rain. Normally it’s very acidic, but the pond nearby is almost out of all the radiation layers, so it won’t be as dangerous,” I said, turning around from the many people in gas masks that were faded out as here they had already died by this point in the future. “It’s been almost five years since the war you all started brought this mess upon us.” Hiccup was standing on his tippy toes and using the extension of his prosthetic leg to push up the roof of one of the plastic tents in order to place it above and properly protect them all from the rain.

I sighed. “In your time, I’ll die in two months. It’s funny really,” I said with a chuckle, running a hand through my white hair. “I died protecting him. And even in death, I’ll still do everything for him. No matter what. It’s selfish of me really, messing with the time line for one person instead of the billions that have died because of this catastrophe.”

I saw a hand fall through my torso. “Ghosts can’t touch each other without the higher amounts of radiation. Here, you all have likely already died,” I said, smiling at the gesture from the Prime Minister of India.

They all nodded at me in understanding. I could only hope that they could understand. “Jack?” I heard Hiccup call. I turned around, seeing the sky turn even darker. The winds picked up at a higher rate. They all were scared, and he wouldn’t be able to calm them all down with his own fear.

“Yeah Ricky?” I said. I could hear his jade eyes roll back as he groaned at the old nickname.

“I’ll never understand why you call me that,” he said, but I saw the hidden smile in his eyes. “But who are they? They all look familiar?” He asked.

I guess I should have expected the question, but I wasn’t quite sure how to explain. “No one you know Hiccup,” I said with a smile, the words slipping out of my mouth. These were the people that had caused him the most pain, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I had brought them here. HE didn’t need to know what I was doing, because it would most likely not affect this timeline, unless there’s some weird folding stuff that I don’t understand.

He nodded. “if you say so frosty,” he said jokingly, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of my old nickname rolling off of his tongue. I couldn’t help but let the smile engrave itself on my pale and fading face. He smiled back at me, his orbs closing for just a second. I thought I felt my frozen and long rotten heart flutter in my intangible chest, and I swore I felt heat begin to rise into my cheeks.

Then the rain started. The sky thundered, its plasmatic fire shining a violet color against the red rain. It was a downpour of blood. But that’s when I heard them. The grumbling was hidden by the thunder, but they were there. I stepped forward. “Jack wait! Where are you going?!” Hiccup said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back Hiccup,” I said, trying to avoid setting him off. The leaders out in the rain were radiating fear, from the rain or the undead I couldn’t be sure. Their hearing wasn’t as good as mine, that I could be sure as they hadn’t heard the zombies enough to differentiate the noise from the thunder. I smiled at him comfortingly as I stepped out of the hunting tent. The plastic seemed to be holding against the rain, but I was glad they were out of it. I had thought it would be fine, but it was still slightly acidic with a cancerous mineral of some sort.

The undead grumbled at me in annoyance. They knew that I was protecting the living, and that they couldn’t compete with me, even though they couldn’t see me. I felt the radiation and the downpouring blood run off of my ice-cold transparent form, and I cupped my hands to try to use the acid to my advantage. I felt the liquid seep into my soul, and I pushed it out of my palms as I pointed them in the direction of the creatures. Some moved out of the way, while others my icy spires went straight through their heads.

I ran one hand up my arm and felt a blade of ice form in my hands, so I could fight them without using all of the radiation my soul had stored. The blade was much like that of a katana, and I had made sure to make a hilt. It was the only weapon I had mastered making out of ice, and I had just recently figured out how to make the ice sharp enough to cut through the brain stem and bone of the undead.

The slowly rotting creatures that dodged my first attack began to try to surround me, and I flipped the blade over in my hand, swinging the ice weapon through their necks, severing the brain stem from the rest of their bodies, therefore severing the ties between the electromagnetic waves connecting the brain and the body. Those that had made their way behind me had fallen. While they still retained the intellect, they had when they were alive, they weren’t as tactical as they had believed. The undead were still relying on instinct and gut feelings, and they weren’t entirely communicating with anything other than grunts and moans. They had what I considered almost conversations with each other.

The four or five left of the small nomadic hoard began to charge me, and I weaved my small form between them as I swung my blade inexperienced, doing my best to knock off their heads as I moved. I heard a moan as I turned around to check and make sure I had gotten them all, seeing one stand up and spot one of the smaller children opening a door to the tent. “Shit,” I muttered running for the creature and driving my frozen blade through his spinal cord. The child before me looked at my eyes in fear. I dropped the blade, letting it melt in my hands as I felt a breeze come out through the downpour of thick blood like rain. “Well either an angel died, or God really had to take a piss,” I muttered under my breath as it began to pour even harder. I began to try and move the undead bodies and I saw the wind forming holes for me to be able to bury them.

She helped me move them, even though she continued to dig for me. The wind was a ghost as well, even though she couldn’t talk she always showed me a great kindness. She may have been a he, but if so, he hasn’t minded me calling him a her. I searched through each of the dead’s pockets, putting their driver’s license or military ID on a board and tying the said boards to a cross above each dead’s new grave. If anyone came looking for their dead family members, they would be able to look and see if it was someone they knew.

The rain continued to pour down harder as I walked back into the hunting tent Hiccup and those who followed him had gathered and put together. I noticed the small child was leaning against the blonde-haired girl that had talked to me earlier, most likely now terrified of me. “What happened?” Hiccup asked as he came up to me.

“Nomadic hoard. Nothing large, but it would have been an ambush in this rain, so I went to go take care of it for you guys,” I said with a mutter. “One of them got a little to close before I could take care of them and the poor kid was at the door when I killed it. I wasn’t thinking that someone might have looked outside,” I said honestly as I ran a hand through my hair. It was still dry, but that was simply because I was merely a soul, no longer a body.

I still felt the rain of course, but it would go right through me, my soul absorbing any radiation inside of it. Hiccup shook his head at me. “You’re still just as reckless as before,” he said with a sigh, pinching his nose.

“Shouldn’t I technically be more reckless since now I can’t technically die?” I responded with a smirk.

“I don’t think I’ll dignify that with a response.”

“Oh, but my good sir, you already have,” I said, my smirk getting larger. He rolled his eyes, and the people around us let out large chuckles and laughs.

I saw one of them place down a map, and the blonde haired girl from before glared at me. “Where are we and where are we going Hiccup?” She demanded.

I rolled my eyes. “Bossy pants,” I said as I walked up to the map in his place. I pointed to a spot in almost the center of the map. “We’re right here. We’re heading southeast, near Mississippi,” I said, dragging my finger near where the Arch was.

“No way. There will be far to many undead for us to be safe there,” She said, and the people around us broke out into chaos.

“Everyone, be quiet,” Hiccup said in a demanding voice. It surprised me, the authority in his voice and his confident body language. I wondered how much I had missed.

“Thank you Hiccup. There aren’t as many as there were. Most of them became nomadic, and others have been taken care of as much as we can. It’ll be the safest place for all of you and your little ones,” I said, taking a glance at the small child from before.

“Who’s we exactly?” the blonde said.

“Astrid,” Hiccup started, but I cut him off.

“The other ghosts who have people to protect,” I said simply.

Gasps went through out the room. “So that’s why Hiccup trusts you. He knew you before this shit started. So did you die during?” The girl, Astrid, asked, and the others in the room agreed in wanting to hear this.

“SO what if he did? I trust him, with my life, and my soul,” Hiccup said simply. I tried to hide the shock from his words, and simply answered.

“No. I died a few months before the war that led to this mess even started.”

“SO why did you die?” she asked.

“You don’t have to answer that Jack,” Hiccup whispered.

I smiled at him. “I don’t mind Ricky. I got over it a long time ago,” I said to him, before turning back to the rest of them. “When I died, I died trying to protect Hiccup and my sister from falling into ice. I ended up falling through the ice instead,” I answered. “The ice was cracking and I shoved them both onto the bank of the pond, and it shattered beneath my feet from the sudden adjustment of weight.”

“You’re the one who saved him? But you look different from how he described you?” she said.

I couldn’t help but wonder what she meant. “White hair and blue eyes instead of Brown Astrid. That’s the only difference, and that could be caused by him dying or the radiation,” Hiccup responded.

-Susan Royal

[haroldsguccisuit]

Exes and Broken Hearts

or in which harry and y/n break up and meet a few times coincidentally over the span of 6 weeks before rekindling their relationship.

It’s been 6 weeks of hell for harry.

6 weeks since y/n packed everything and trudged out of his life because of the stupid mistake he made. He had rekindled a friendship with his ex, Kendall, even though he promised y/n he wouldn’t. Harry changed around Kendall. Not the same way he changed for the better around y/n. That night 6 weeks ago, he could unfortunately remember so vividly, almost as if it happened yesterday.

“you’re back late.” y/n murmured in the dark with the TV the only source of light in the dark living room. Harry jumped slightly, not expecting y/n to be awake at the meek hours of the night/early morning. “How was the ‘studio’?” She quipped with risen eyebrows and a smug expression. Harry had told her earlier that week that he had a late studio session for that day and that she didn’t need to wait up for him to return. The only issue that y/n soon found out was that this “studio session” never happened. “It was..good?” He hesitated slightly and he knew by the look on her face that she knew something. “Was it really, harry?” She narrowed her eyes as she spoke. “Yes it was good.. I thought I told you not to wait up for me,lovie.” He answered after a moment as he still stood in the doorframe. “Couldn’t really sleep when I go through twitter and find out that my boyfriend is at a 5 star restaurant and holding hands with a woman that isn’t me.” She challenged with crossed arms and Harry’s shoulders visibly tensed under her gaze and new confession. “It’s really not what you thi-“ he began before he was cut off by a loud scoff from y/n. “How many fake studio sessions were there harry? How many times have you lied to me?” She waited for a response but was only met with a guilty harry staring at the ground. “Twice.” He muttered softly, and y/n’s heart shattered as well as their relationship. Y/n ended up leaving that night, packing everything into a large suitcase as Harry begged her to stay. His efforts weren’t enough as she left with Harry’s heart and a few stray tears.

Over the past few weeks, harry nursed empty bottles and y/n reminisced on the good times with salty tears flowing down her cheeks. To them the phrase ‘love is a drug’ was undeniably true as they suffered the withdrawals. The bed was cold and lonely. Breakfast was filled with silence now. The tv was the only sounds filling their space. ‘Home’ was not really a home without the other, and they both knew it but no matter how hard Harry tried, y/n refused to listen or answer his calls. His voicemails were deleted automatically and text messages were visually muted. She was completely heartbroken and harry felt like he was drowning.

The first time they saw each other after the breakup was at a party neither of them wanted to be at. It was a Friday night and they were both invited to Niall’s party following his favorite football team’s success. They knew they would run into each other, it was bound to happen eventually. So, y/n and her best friend dressed in their favorite outfits and made their way to an Uber nearby.

“You know, harry will probably be there..” y/n’s friend trailed off with no intentions of sparking a new flame after it was already partly burned out. “I know, Cass.” y/n groaned softly. “look, all I’m saying is if at any point you want to leave just say the word and we’ll be gone.” her friend, Cassidy, reassured her with a comforting hand placed on her shoulder causing y/n to flash her a closed smile.

Within the first 10 minutes y/n lost Cassidy and was wandering around alone. She could feel the uninvited eyes of men undressing her mentally. When she turned into the kitchen, she locked eyes with him. He stood at the counter with a red solo cup in his hand and friends laughing. The bags under his eyes were prominent and his curls were disheveled and greasier than usual. His lips were down turned instead of his usual display of his pearly whites. Tears welled up and we’re threatening to spill over her waterline as she turned on her heel and made a B-line for the door.

“Y/N! Wait!” He rushed behind her and shoved passed people he barely recognized as he didn’t even spare them a second glance. Her face was set into a frown as she reached the porch and realized they took an Uber so she had no escape. “Y/n please.” Harry pleaded when they came to a halt. “Can I just talk to you? I’ve been calling nonstop but you always decline the call.”

She had called an Uber as she marched out. She was facing away from him but could still feel his intense gaze. She didn’t want him to see the broken pieces he caused. She didn’t want his pity. “2 minutes. That’s it.” Her voice waivered and she was mentally cursing herself for showing any sign of weakness around him. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding yet every muscle in his body was tensed.

“I just want to start by saying I’m sorry, y/n. I messed up. She said we would go somewhere private to talk about a business thing going on between our agents and management and when I tried to tell her to go somewhere else after seeing the paps she just grabbed my hand. I swea-“ He babbled on trying to find the right words to say before y/n turned on her heel furiously.

“why didn’t you just tell me it was business? you lied to me harry! You said you were going to the studio!” She exclaimed while throwing her hands up out of exasperation.

“I don’t know,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I did go to the studio but she showed up and said we needed to talk about the business plan.”

“What about the other time? You said it happened twice.” she questioned with crossed arms.

“I-I did lie the first time. Told you I was going to the studio so you wouldn’t worry or anything.” He stammered out while his hand reached up to nervously scratch the back of his neck.

“Please, y/n. I know you’re upset and I know that I’m an idiot. I honestly don’t know why I lied, I promise, baby, it won’t happen again. Just please give me another chance. For Christ’s sake, y/n, I love you.” He pleaded with sad eyes.

“You should’ve thought about that before you lied to me and humiliated me all over the tabloids.” She stated before walking to her arriving Uber and leaving behind a guilty and heartbroken harry and a ride-less Cassidy.

The second time was 3 weeks after the party. They’re both coincidentally at a bar in the center of town. Harry had shown y/n this bar on their 4th date so it held some sort of value to their broken relationship. Y/n was sitting at the bar stool, sipping mindlessly on a fruity margarita and relishing in the woozy feeling of her drunkenness.

Harry had spotted her from a mile away. He saw the cute skirt and white sweater she wore and the way she fiddled with the longer sleeves. He saw the way the guy next to her would offer her drinks and she would shift uncomfortably. He noticed how he got a tad too close for her liking and tried to slip an arm around her waist. What he didn’t notice, was that his feet were carrying him directly towards the two of them.

“Oi, got a problem here mate?” Harry questioned when his feet stopped directly behind the two. “Nothing of your concern.” The unknown male grunted out in annoyance. Y/n’s eyes were trained on her drink as Harry’s voice rang through her head. He was part of the reason she was drowning her feelings with alcohol anyway.

“Seems to be my problem when I overheard this lovely lady tell you no but you continued to touch and talk to her.” Harry countered with a stern tone and arms crossed, displaying his broadened biceps and ink covered arms.

“We were just having some fun, mate, right?” the guy questioned and turned to y/n who was lost in her own world. Her eyelids were hooded and her hand swirled her straw.

“She’s plastered mate! Now leave.” Harry exclaimed loudly before the man abruptly stood and stammered away to god knows where.

“Come on, lovie, lets get you home.” Harry stated while grabbing her keys and helping her put her jacket on. Y/n was usually a fun drunk to be around and was normally full of giggles. Tonight was a different side that harry had never seen from her. Her lips were sealed shut and facing down as her eyes filled with tears threatening to fall.

“Don’t want to go home alone, want to be important just for tonight.” She mumbled and Harry’s heart shattered in ten thousand pieces. He was guilty. He made her feel this way.

“Not gonna be alone, doll, I’ll be there. As far as I’m concerned you are very important to me, you hear me?” He tried to reassure her while placing a soft hand on her shoulder. She simply nodded her head and Harry sighed a breath of relief.

On the way back to Harry’s flat, she didn’t speak one word. She stared out the window at the passing cars and streetlights while Harry stole small glances at her broken stare. The radio played the sounds of her favorite playlist that usually danced to but now only pains her further.

“I hate love songs, they’re always so happy” She hiccuped from the passenger seat and it stung harry like a kick to a hornets nest. He remembered their first date when she stated a similar phrase in his car on the way back from a coffee shop, “I love love songs, they’re always so happy!” She had smiled and sang along. But oh, how times had changed.

They were both silent the rest of the way to her apartment and harry hated himself for causing her so much pain. Y/n never drank, and when she did, it was usually something lite. He’s only ever seen her this plastered a year after they met when it was their last year of uni and they were at a New Years party. She was the goofiest drunk he had ever seen, but now she can’t even bring herself to smile.

Harry took her back to his house as he had no idea where she had been staying since she left 3 weeks prior. His heart felt as if it was centimeters from plunging out from the amount of guilt he felt.

He wanted her to be comfortable for tonight; for her to escape the reality of her heartbreak.. atleast until she woke up sober and hungover tomorrow. So, he led her clumsy body up to his bedroom and asked for her to lay in his bed as he made his makeshift bed out of extra blankets on the floor.

She hadn’t spoken a word since the car ride back to Harry’s and to say he was worried and drowning in his own sorrowful thoughts was an understatement. Y/n was laying in his bed and although she was drunk, the sweet smell of Harry’s cologne made her even more intoxicated.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Harry said softly as he stood from the ground and tried to maintain eye contact, which was difficult since her eyes hadn’t shifted from their photo still sitting on his dresser.

Harry quickly made his way down the stairs and into his kitchen to grab 2 water bottles, a bottle of ibuprofen, the fiber granola bars he knew y/n loved, and he knustled an extra pillow under his arm. He rushed his way back upstairs and found y/n in the same position as when he left, only she had shifted further back from the edge of the bed and towards the headboard.

“Here you go, drink some water and take a few bites of this.. it’s the pretzel and chocolate kind you like.” He whispered while sitting beside her with his hands outstretched with the granola bar and water bottle offered.

For the first time y/n’s eyes met his and he felt his heart plummet a little further in his chest. Her usual eyes were sparkly and he always stated how the world could be seen in them, they crinkled at the ends when she smiled or laughed, and it was definitely his favorite trait about her. But now, with all the damage that he had caused her, her eyes were dark and the sparkle was gone, and there were no crinkles as they were replaced by purplish bags that represented her restlessness.

“What did I do wrong?” Her broken voice whispered into the silence.

“What do you mean, doll?” Harry questioned as his own eyes studied her broken state.

“D-Did I do something? For you not to love me anymore?” She hiccuped, her intoxicated state showing through her words and her eyes.

Harry couldn’t even look at her or his own eyes might start to tear up and he didn’t want her to see him cry. He shifted to sit closer to her on the bed and sighed softly. “Y/n, you didn’t do anything wrong. You did all the right things and more and I was so stupid to lie to you, and I will forever hold that against myself. And, God, don’t say I don’t love you anymore because I do. I love you more than anything else on this world and if I could take back everything I would, y/n.” He poured while his thumbs twiddled and his eyes met hers again.

“I l-love you too..” She hiccuped before shifting to lay down his bed that she missed so much. She still hasn’t grown used to sleeping on Cassidy’s lumpy old couch that made her back ache and left her restless; not like she could sleep with Harry clouding her thoughts anyway.

Her head lay upon his pillow and harry pulled the covers up to tuck her in before standing up and planting a quick kiss on her forehead. “I know you might not remember this tomorrow, but I just need to tell you that I love you and I miss you.” He whispered before flickering off the lamp and laying on his makeshift bed on the hard, cold floor.

“I love you too..” she whispered into the darkness before her breathing evened out and harry knew she was sleeping.

Needless to say, harry didn’t sleep much that night. He listened to her soft breaths and stared at the ceiling while her words and empty eyes ran through his head.

When y/n began to stir awake the next morning, she swore her mind was playing games on her.. there was absolutely no way she was smelling Harry’s distinct scent. When one of her eyes finally peeled open her first instinct wasn’t to rub her pounding head; it was to swallow the large lump in her throat as her eyes widened at Harry’s sleeping figure on the floor.

The only thing she remembered about last night was third wheeling with her friends—who were madly in love—and ubering to a bar instead of Cassidy’s. Did she drunk call harry? How the hell did she get back to Harry’s house and into his bed?

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tiptoed her way out the room before silently closing the door, not wanting to awake harry. Y/n made her way into the bathroom, she looked into the mirror and took in her physical state. Her hair was a mess and her mascara had rubbed underneath her eyes. She sighed and flicked the light switch before opening the door and bumping into Harry’s broad chest. A gasp left both of their lips as Harry’s hands reached out instinctively to steady her. When y/n was steady, she looked down and took in Harry’s broad hands touching her arms. She took a step back causing his hands to fall back to his sides and their eyes met.

“Good morning.” Harry stated nervously as a hand reached up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“H-how did I get here?” She questioned, trying to avoid contact at all cost and her arms wrapped around herself.

“We were both at the same bar, uh- Davies bar that’s downtown, some guy was being touchy and you clearly didn’t like it so I intervened. I noticed you were way too drunk and I wanted you to get home safe but I didn’t know where you were staying so I-I brought you here.” Harry explained as his hand still scratched his neck and he shifted on his feet.

A moment of silence passed as she wracked her brain to try to remember the slightest detail.

“You didn’t have to rescue me.” She whispered, this whole situation was making her head ache even worse.

“I know I didn’t have to... but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.”

The silence in the air was thick. The sound of the heater throwing warm air was the only sound that was heard through the hallway.

“would you like some breakfast? I have some Advil if your head is hurting.” Harry offered after a few moments.

“I- uh I should probably go, Harry.”

“yea,yea, I understand.” He nodded his head and stared at the floor.

She shuffled passed him and back into his bedroom to put on her shoes. Harry watched from the door and his heart ached once again. He didn’t want for her to get away again.

When she stood up to leave, Harry closed the door and leaned his broad back against the wood. She looked up at him with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Can we just talk? Please?” Harry sighed for what felt like the 50th time within the last 24 hours.

“Harry—“

“I know you don’t want to but please, I’m begging you just give me a few minutes” he pleaded desperately.

“Just a few minutes..” she agreed quietly while taking a seat on the edge of the unmade bed.

“I hurt you, y/n. I’m so stupid and if I could go back I would tell you everything. Hell, I wouldn’t have even layed eyes on her. I’m an idiot and I hurt you and it’s all I think about anymore.” The raspiness in his voice still prominent as he had woken up only a few minutes ago.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me, harry” y/n whispered, truth be told she was tired. Tired of arguing and frankly she didn’t care if she appeared weak or broken.

“I know. I would kick my own arse if I could. But I can’t let you slip through my fingers again. I can’t let you walk back out the door, y/n. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” He spoke passionately while making his way over to the bed and sitting beside her.

A single tear dropped from her eye and slid down her cheek. Harry restrained from reaching his hand up and swiping it away with his thumb.

He always hated when his girl cried.

“God, harry, I cant even sleep anymore. I’m staying on Cassidy’s raggedy couch and my back hurts. And you don’t love me anymore and—“ she sobbed out before Harry’s hand gripped the side of her cheek.

“Don’t ever say I don’t love you. My entire heart is made up of love for you. I love you more than anything else on this earth.” He spoke sternly while wiping her fastly flowing tears.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into the crook of where his neck met his shoulder. His large hands rubbed gentle circles on her shaking back.

When her sobs ceased and were replaced by small sniffles, he pulled her body back and placed a soft peck on her wet cheek.

“Give me another chance, lovie. I can’t live without you.” He whispered while his thumb caressed the side of her cheek.

a small nod of her head and a small “Okay” fell from her lips.

“I love you” he whispered into her ear.

“I love you too.” She stated before harry placed another kiss on her cheek and moved until their noses touched. His hot breath fanned against her cherry lips. He tilted his head down and their lips connected in a passionate kiss that they’ve both craved for a painful 6 weeks.

“I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry” Harry sighed as he moved his head down to rest on her shoulder.

They were back to being drunk on love and their withdrawals from love had been ceased. Their hearts were finally whole again.

[wanderingpride]

A short story with Auro and Cassius.

It was getting late; the sunset was stretching its last rays over the mountains in the distance, Auro slumped on the grass in Cassius’ backyard, waiting for dinner. He always felt a little bad for Cassius. Not only did he have to worry about providing enough food for himself, but he had to make food for at least twenty extra regular humans on top of that. Auro shook his head, trying to get the thoughts out of his brain whilst taking a deep breath in, inhaling the scent of freshly cooking steak. Mouth watering a little, he felt his stomach about to rumble, hunching over trying to suppress the sound. Alas, it didn’t work, as Cassius gleefully opened the window and chuckled.

“I heard that. Worry not, it’ll be ready soon!”

That smile never seemed to leave Cassius’ face, something that Auro secretly admired about him. His generosity and altruism were unrivalled. Auro wished he could match it. A sigh escaped his lips as he goes back to drawing soft circles in the grass, barely feeling the individual blades on his fingers anymore; a combination of tough calluses and the finger simply being too large the cause. He missed those little things.

The door to the backyard opens, Cassius barely able to keep his balance with the sheer amount of food he’s carrying as he places a very full tray of meat on the little picnic table next to where Auro is sitting. Cassius is barely phased by Auro’s enormous form now, it wasn’t the boy’s fault he ended up like this. That he believed wholeheartedly, no matter what disgruntled townsfolk say. Cassius serves himself some meat and oven-roasted vegetables, before pushing the rest of the enormous tray to Auro, a routine that both of them know very well. But most unusually, Auro doesn’t even look at the food, a thousand yard stare frozen into his face as his brows furrow, pushing the tray back to Cassius.

“Auro? What’s wrong?”

Cassius’ dinner now lay abandoned on the picnic table as the old man leapt to his feet and approached the giant, running a gentle hand down the side of Auro’s thigh as he walked around to the front. Auro’s gaze flickered down for a brief moment before looking away, eyes deader than before, face sunken and void of emotion.

“Cass.” Auro said, his voice booming.

“Yes?”

Auro bows his head before diverting his dead-eyed stare back to Cassius, taking in a breath.

“Why do you do this?”

Cassius tilts his head.

“Do what?” he asks, a little confused.

“You know...all this. You give me free food. A place to sleep. I can do all of this on my own, you know. I don’t need your help.”

Cassius’ brows raise. He knows better than to automatically assume Auro is being ungrateful. 

“What? You know why I do this. Because I love you; you are my son and I care about you. Do you take me to be the type to leave someone to suffer?”

“Maybe I wasn’t suffering.” Auro snaps back.

Cassius takes a step back, crossing his arms.

“Let me head upstairs so we can talk face to face like adults.”

He briskly walks to the picnic table and collects all the food, putting it on the kitchen counter for the time being. Cassius soon emerges from the balcony of the master bedroom, Auro standing up to meet him despite still having to crouch a little bit to meet eye to eye.

“Auro,” Cassius begins, “what is this about.”

The giant’s shoulders tense, his face contorting into a scowl as his temper begins to flare.

“I’m just...I’m sick of being an inconvenience.” Auro answers, “You make me all this good food and built an entire goddamn fucking barn for me to sleep in and for what? This does nothing but make more problems, you have more to do around here now. You don’t just have one human mouth to feed, you gotta make a fucking army’s worth of grub for one person! And let’s not forget everyone who I’ve had to steal from otherwise I’d DIE otherwise.”

He begins to raise his voice, losing his composure.

“I feel pathetic! I can’t even fend for myself. Everyone I have met has showered me with life’s most basic necessities; things that I should be able to get on my own. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be babied. I know I’m an overgrown freak of fucking nature now but I still have my fucking DIGNITY! How am I supposed to survive if I can’t even rely on myself to stay alive...”

“Auro.”

“DON’T AURO ME. LISTEN TO ME.”

“No, Auro. Listen to me.”

A little taken aback at Cass’ sudden change of tone, Auro begins pacing back and forth, the wind from his movements rustling Cassius’ hair a little as the old man covers his ears slightly at Auro’s raised voice. But Auro doesn’t notice, too wrapped up in his own overflowing emotions to even look at Cassius properly. But Cassius doesn’t look away, not even for a second. Auro’s frustration tugged strongly on Cassius’ heartstrings; this definitely wasn’t a case of him being bratty. 

“You can ignore my words all you like, but the truth cannot be denied forever. Do you know why people give you all these things? Do you know why people willingly part with these necessities to help their fellow man?”

Auro turns back to Cassius, his expression twisting with guilt as he sees Cassius remove his hands from his ears.

“No but please, enlighten me.”

“Because we want to.”

“WHAT KIND OF A REASON IS THAT.”

Cassius’ hands swiftly cover his ears again.

“A perfectly valid and believable one.”

“WHAT GOOD IS HELP IF ALL IT’S DOING IS SOFTENING ME AND MAKING ME RELY ON OTHERS FOR MY OWN WELL BEING?! DON’T YOU GET IT?!”

In a fit of rage, Auro’s hands grip the roof with a mighty thump, dislodging the dust on the balcony ceiling as it lands on Cassius’ bun. The man cowers a little at the thump, expecting the roof to cave in.

“Auro, please--”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

The only thing Cassius hears is the sound of Auro’s heavy breathing, the giant beginning to hyperventilate, unsure how to handle what he’s kept pent up for so long now finally bursting at the seams. Auro hunches over the balcony, blocking out those last few rays of sunlight as it plunges Cassius into darkness, eclipsed by Auro’s torso. Cassius crouches down, hands above his head, Auro too worked up to truly take note.

“IF PEOPLE WANTED TO HELP ME, THEY WOULD HAVE HELPED ME BACK WHEN I ACTUALLY FUCKING NEEDED IT. WHY WAIT ALL THIS TIME? WHY WAIT UNTIL I CAN LITERALLY NEVER FUNCTION IN A HUMAN SOCIETY EVER AGAIN?!” Auro cries, rearing his foot back.

“I don’t know Auro, I don’t--”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU HELPING ME NOW? I’LL NEVER LEARN IF I DON’T--”

A splintering crunch brought silence to the pair, Auro waking up from his blind anger looking down to the ground. He lifts up his foot, finding the picnic table utterly destroyed. He glances back to Cassius, still cowering as Auro takes another step back, letting light back onto the balcony.

“Cass...I…” he mumbled, barely able to speak behind choking sobs.

Cassius cautiously rises to his feet, peering over the balcony to look at the destruction. His gaze is interrupted by the sound of a hiccup, eyes darting to Auro, eyes teary and face contorted in grief. The man sighs, all fear he once had melting away as he feels a wash of relief seeing Auro calm down once again. Auro covers his face, shoulders heaving.

“I’m sorry, Cass…”

Cass smiles gently.

“Come here.”

Auro approaches the balcony once again, peering at Cassius through a space in his fingers. He wipes away his tears, crouching down to meet Cassius face to face again as his eyes glisten once again, barely able to look at the man. Cassius reaches up and wipes a tear away from the corner of Auro’s eye, the man’s hand and sleeve utterly soaked.

“Do you know why we help you? Because we love you. Because humans are a social species. You and I, we are not meant to live alone. We are meant to connect with one another, to communicate with one another...to form incredible relationships and be a part of the wondrously wide network that is the human race. Humans help each other for a myriad of reasons. For me? It’s because you are a son to me. You are my son, and there is nothing more important to me than family.”

Cassius runs his hand down Auro’s cheek, Auro too ashamed to look at him.

“Helping people does not always mean they are too pitiful or lazy to get what they need themselves. Sometimes it simply means that people love and care for you so much, that they are willing to part with what they have for the wellbeing and happiness of somebody else. Don’t you see? People love you so dearly, that they are willing to part with everything they have for your sake. You are not the easiest person to care for, I admit, but seeing you thrive, recover and grow brings me so much more pleasure and happiness than any amount of material possessions ever could. You make me so proud, Auro Lengdreal, and I love you more than you realise.”

Auro backs away, a few seconds of silence befalling them before he bursts into tears, his weeping filling the air as his hands fall away from his face. Auro sits back on the ground, too exhausted to keep standing up as Cass recognises the cue to rush back downstairs, meeting Auro outside merely a few seconds later. 

He lays on the grass, continuing to weep, as Cassius nestles himself in between Auro’s arms and chest. Auro places a very careful hand on the back of Cassius’ head, resting his fingers on the man’s shoulders. Cassius softly hushes the man, feeling Auro’s body convulse with heavy hearted sobs. Auro gently pushes Cassius into his chest, Cassius allowing himself to sink into the pressure, closing his eyes as he feels Auro’s warmth soothe him. He continues to quietly hush Auro, regardless of whether Auro can hear him or not. Auro begins to speak, Cassius feeling every word rumble through Auro’s chest.

“Cass?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about the table.”

Cassius laughs, wriggling himself free from Auro’s hand as he meets Auro face to face, giving him a few endearing paps on the cheek.

“Tables can be replaced. Lives cannot. I’ll just get another one.”

Auro sits up again, running a hand through his hair bashfully.

“Yeah...I suppose. And uh, Cass?”

“Yes?”

“...I’m still hungry.”

A cheeky smile brightened up the old man’s face as he turned on his heel.

“As am I. I’ll go heat up the steak again.”

“Mine was medium rare right?”

“Of course. Extra fat on your cuts, correct?”

Auro reached over and gave Cassius’ hair a light ruffle, loosening his bun.

“You know it...dad.”

[askhewtahmas]

Puppet on a String || Solo Para

Word Count: 1,729

Warning: Like, one swear word.

Note: So, this took wayyyy longer than intended. But between struggling to find muse for Hew and being ill for two weeks, that’s just what had to happen. Still, I hope it was worth the wait and that you guys enjoy the big reveal ;)

Hew often remembered his dreams, so it didn’t feel too strange when the familiar weight of his subconscious fell on his shoulders, but rather like an old friend.

“Old friend, huh?” The voice made Hew jump as he turned to face where it had come from, only to frown as he saw the familiar bearded face seated on the armchair beside him.

“No way...” He trailed off, approaching the man who seemed rather smug with himself, although he couldn’t for the life of him pinpoint why.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” The man frowned, teasingly, before leaning forward. His attitude, however, caused Hew to take a step back. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that something was off.

“I don’t know, it’s been a while. Besides, you’re imaginary.” He argued, although he doubted that he sounded particularly convincing with the way his voice wavered. “...Right?”

“In a way.” The man replied, with a shrug. “You’ve only ever seen me in your head - illusions, magic tricks, that kind of thing. But I can assure you that I am very real.”

“Then, who are you?”

“Loki, Norse god of mischief and fire,” The man suddenly disappeared, causing Hew to spin around frantically until he caught sight of the man in a low bow behind him, “at your service.”

“...Get out of my head.”

“Now now-” Loki gestured weakly as he took a few steps towards the younger, dark haired man.

“I said get out of my head, now!”

“No need to cause a ruckus. I only came to ask for your assistance.” Loki fired back, now more sure in his movements.

“Assistance?” Hew hesitated.

“Yes, assistance.”

“And why would I want to assist you?”

Hew wouldn’t admit it, especially not to Scotta, but he was a nervous wreck. He hadn’t particularly cared about who their biological parents were until they were suddenly expected to meet them. He knew that he needed to at least look strong, since his sister had always been the sensitive one, but he wasn’t sure how. Putting on a front usually came so easily to him, but this time the wall just wouldn’t come up.

This discourse within himself almost caused him to miss the light sobbing from behind the door he’d been pacing in front of. A door that he knew lead to his parents’ bedroom. With a worried crease in his forehead, he gently knocked before poking his head in. The brunette hair quickly gave away exactly who it was, and the quick movement of her hand to wipe away her tears gave away that she hadn’t been expecting him.

“Oh, H-Hew. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be-” Isobel began, still sniffling, as Hew gently shut the door behind himself.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he sat next to her, now able to visibly see her body shaking from the effort to stop the tears.

“It really doesn’t-”

“Don’t you dare say it doesn’t matter.” Hew warned. “You’re clearly upset, you’re crying for God’s sake.” Isobel sighed as she ran a hand through her tangled locks, clearly still trying to hide her tear stained cheeks.

“You don’t want to hear about my problems, not right before-” This time Isobel cut herself off as more sobs fell from her lips.

“Isobel, you’re my mother. For you I have all the time in the world.”

“Why, because I’ve been dealt a great wrong, of course. You were always the nice one, after all.”

“I can’t imagine you didn’t get anything that you didn’t deserve.”

"I may have indirectly killed a man, I'll admit it. But does that mean my sons deserved to be murdered? My children to be banished? My wife to suffer?"

“...What?” Hew questioned, blinking.

“Oh, you don't know? Either no one told you, or you just never paid any attention.” Loki began, condescendingly. “I was - involved, shall we say? -  in the murder of Baldur, Odin and Frigga’s favorite child.” The look he sent Hew implied that he had expected this to upset him in some way, but he remained stoic, causing the god to roll his eyes in disappointment. “Now, I understand my own punishment. Of course, I was only messing around, but I more than anyone can understand the anger and distress that comes with the loss of a child. Your father did murder two of my own sons after all; simply so their insides could be used as my chains. I was locked away with my mouth sewn shut as a venomous viper drools onto my face for the rest of my days. But that wasn’t enough for him. The monster then allowed my wife to stay with me in my captivity, holding a bowl above my head just to keep the venom away. But even she has to occasionally empty the bowl.”

The look of combined horror and disgust on the Scottish prince’s face confirmed that the blond had him hook, line and sinker.

“I, I thought your children were banished?” Hew replied, dumbly, as if wanting some semblance of good news from the man before him. Loki sighed dramatically.

“A few were, yes. Fenrir, Jormugand and Hel were taken from me, and from the halls of Asguard, because your kind found them to be too monstrous. Sleipnir was only allowed to stay to serve as the king’s steed.” The last part was spat, clearly a particularly sore spot for the father. Because of this, Hew opted not to ask how the humanoid had a horse for a child. “So, tell me, young prince, do you really think that I ‘didn’t get anything that I didn’t deserve?’“

The news hit the twins like a brick. They had always assumed that their parents had been regular people, nothing special.

“Turns out he had a wife at home. Kids, too. Even grandchildren.” Caroline, their biological mother, continued. Although at this point it seemed more akin to nervous rambling, with which Hew doubted his and his sister’s silence was helping. A glance over at Scotta confirmed that she wasn’t going to intervene any time soon, so he took it upon himself.

“So, he was an ancient, seductive asshole?”

“To put it lightly, yes.” Caroline seemed to find more humor in the situation than either of them, but he supposed that she’d also had seventeen more years to accept it.

“Great. Just, great.”

“...No.” Hew sighed.

“Then we have an understanding.” Loki’s grin was sad on the surface, but Hew missed the smugness underneath.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“It’s simple, really.” The blond began as he started circling around the younger man. “I need you to release me from my prison.”

“And how am I suppose to do that?” Hew shifted on his feet, trying his best to keep his eyes on the man before him.

“If you’d let me finish then I’d tell you.” Loki snapped. “I’ll help you get to where I’m held - it will be easier to communicate with you once you’re nearer to me. The largest issue is going to be the giant snake guarding me, but a strapping young archer such as yourself shouldn’t have much trouble with that.” He winked.

“Then what?” Hew asked, carefully.

“Then we steal a golden apple, make you a god, and get even.”

“Get even?”

“Your father ruined my life, ruined my children’s lives, and hardly improved your own. I’d say it’s time he had a taste of his own medicine, don’t you?”

By this point Isobel was openly sobbing into her son’s arms as she spoke, having given up any semblance of calm that she had formally been attempting to uphold. To Hew’s credit, he simply stroked her back and listened.

“I-I just, I know that we haven’t been the best parents, me and Merida. We’ve been so busy and we probably weren’t ready - I mean, we were so young.”

Hew had grown use to this over the last few minutes; Isobel starting to say something before hiccuping and losing her train of thought, causing her to quickly move on to a different topic that tended to span the same umbrella.

“But we loved you - we still do. You and Scotta. But now your actual mother’s here and what if you prefer her? What if you click and leave us all alone in this giant, empty castle-” Hew finally decided that he didn’t want to listen anymore.

“Isobel, look at me.” He commanded as he carefully turned his mothers face, gently brushing away her tears as he did. “She may have given birth to us, but that’s all she’s done. You and Merida took us in despite everything, and you raised us as your own. Sure you were busy, but you were there as much as you could be, and I promise you that we’re not going to up and leave you for a woman we knew for maybe two minutes as newborns. You’re our mother, and Merida’s our mother too. As far as we’re concerned this woman is just the uterus that we came from.” Luckily that last comment got a small chuckle, although it didn’t quite stop the water works.

“Thank you. I suppose I needed that.” Isobel sniffled, wiping away at her own face in an attempt to make herself look presentable again as she offered her son a wobbly grin. Rolling his eyes, Hew clutched Isobel further into his chest, before burying his face into her hair as he continued.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry too.” He shook his head, laughing a little as tears pricked at his own eyes. “But for the record, you’re welcome.”

“Yeah, actually. I think I do.”

“Then it looks like we have an agreement, DunBroch. Or do you prefer Odinson now?” Loki asked, a smirk on his face as the dreamscape distorted around him.

“It’s McKendrick-DunBroch.” Hew replied stiffly, crossing his arms.

“Whatever you say.” Loki grinned, stepping into his personal space. “So, do we have a deal?”

Despite his heart telling him that he was doing the right thing, Hew’s head had never felt more like a lamb to the slaughter. When he shook the god’s hand, it was as if he was signing his own death warrant, yet he didn’t feel guilty. Not one bit.

“We have a deal.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

[hold-my-hair-back]

N3 for an OC of your choice

Holy crap I know it’s been forever since I posted a story…

Thanks for the request! I posted a long description of these two girls on my blog, so if you want to look at that first, it’s there. :) The request was “I feel like I’m never gonna get better, I’ve been sick for so long.” Hope y’all enjoy!

For once, Shantel woke up to complete silence, and it was very concerning. Shantel always woke up as late as possible, sleep being basically the most important thing to her in the whole world. She could never understand how Candy could wake up at the crack of dawn just to have enough time to straighten her hair, pick out the ‘perfect outfit’ (seriously, they’re just clothes?), and apply makeup that matched whatever her outfit of the day was. Needless to say, Shantel didn’t often wake up to silence, so when she did and Candy was still in bed next to her with only a half hour before class started, she was a little worried.

“Candy?” Shantel whispered, gently nudging her girlfriend with her foot. “Candy, wake up. You’re going to be late.”

Truthfully, Shantel had expected Candy to shoot up in bed, panicked over not having enough time to properly get ready for class. She was surprised when all she received was a moan in protest. Shantel watched as Candy only burrowed herself deeper into the blankets, turning over on her side, facing the wall. Immediately, Shantel knew something had to be wrong. Candy was hardly ever quiet, especially not in the mornings. “Candy?” Shantel repeated, softening her voice a little. Shantel knew Candy was prone to migraines due to the brain tumor she suffered from when she was little.

“Head is fine.” Candy’s soft voice was barely audible through the mountain of blankets. Shantel relaxed a little at the words, knowing anything else would be easier to get through.

“Just tired?” Shantel guessed. She reached over and slowly began to pull down the blankets, forcing Candy out in the open.

Candy sighed softly in protest and finally rolled over and Shantel was greeted with her blue eyes that didn’t have near as much light or color to them as usual. She was pale and flushed too and without thinking about it, Shantel reached over and placed her hand on Candy’s forehead. It was warm. “It’s my stomach,” Candy whined. “It hurts and I feel like I’m going to puke.”

Shantel nodded slowly, understanding. Candy didn’t handle upset stomachs well. “Okay, well sit up and we can go to the bathroom.”

“No,” Candy moaned, curling in on herself and burying her face into the pillow. “I wanna sleep.”

Shantel sighed, exasperated by how stubborn Candy was whenever she got sick. “If you’re going to throw up, you’re not going to be able to sleep anyway. You might as well be prepared for it. I really don’t want puke on our bed.”

Candy poked her head out from the covers, a pout on her face. “Why are you so mean?” she complained.”

“Oh, please,” Shantel retorted with a small scoff. “Whenever I get sick, you practically flee the country. I don’t want to hear about a lack of sympathy from you.” Shantel stood up from the bed and stretched before heading over to her desk where her computer was. “I’ll email our professors so they know we can’t go to class today. My professor is super lenient about stuff like this.”

“But mine isn’t.” Candy sat up on the bed and Shantel turned around and looked into her girlfriend’s wide, panic-filled eyes. “I’m an acting student, remember? Drama professors aren’t lenient about anything. ‘The show must go on’ and such. Dr. Ulrich will be pissed if I miss. Especially with the play coming up.”

Shantel listened to Candy, but still sent the email to both of their professors, disregarding her girlfriend’s protests. “You know what would really ruin your reputation, Candy? Puking on stage in the middle of rehearsal.” Shantel closed her laptop and headed back toward the bed, sitting down next to her girlfriend. “Seriously, it’s not going to be the end of the world if you miss one day.”

Candy was quiet for a moment before softly speaking up, a frown on her face. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “Because that means the understudy is going to have to take over for me today, and I’m worried that the director will like her more. I’m terrified of missing a day because then I think I’m going to get an email that says ‘sorry, you’ve been replaced’ or something.”

Shantel shook her head and reached over, tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind Candy’s ear. “That’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know?” Candy asked. Before Shantel could answer, the subject changed. “I really don’t feel good. My head hurts, I’m too hot, and I feel really puke-y.”

“Well, I said you should go to the bathroom,” Shantel reminded her patiently. “That’s still not out of the question.”

Candy wrinkled her nose. “No, there’s going to be like a hundred other people in there getting ready for class. I don’t want the whole school to know I threw up. That’s gross.”

“Everyone throws up, Candy,” Shantel sighed, but she stood up anyway and grabbed the garbage can, putting it in Candy’s hands, ignoring the disgusted look on her girlfriend’s face as she touched it. “You puked during spring break last year.”

Candy hesitated before allowing herself to lean over the garbage can. “I was drunk during spring break last year and didn’t really care. Sober, I do care.” Candy moaned loudly and heaved a dramatic sigh. “I feel so sick.”

“Then throw up,” Shantel suggested. She moved over onto the bed so she was sitting next to Candy. Gently, she put her girlfriend’s long, blonde hair in a rubber band, and then began to rub soft circles on her back. “You’ll feel a lot better if you do.”

“I don’t want to throw up,” Candy complained with a pout. Her breath hitched a little and she swallowed thickly, looking into the bin. Another soft hiccup escaped her and she put her hand to her mouth as she swallowed rapidly, clearly trying to keep everything down. Shantel knew she wouldn’t last long though, mostly because she was quiet. Candy was never quiet unless she absolutely had to be. Candy gagged into her hand and softly moaned, this sound being more out of actual discomfort than just for the sake of whining.

“You doing alright?” Shantel asked as she affectionately pressed a kiss to the top of Candy’s blonde hair.

Candy shook her head and moved her hand from her mouth so she could gently rest it on her belly. Shantel watched helplessly as Candy gagged again, her small, thin frame lurching forward. When she gagged a third time, it was heard deep in the back of her throat, and Shantel knew she wasn’t going to last much longer. She continued to rub her girlfriend’s back as Candy heaved one last time, finally bringing up a large mouthful of vomit. Candy gasped desperately before her breath hitched again and more vomit poured from her mouth, this wave powerful enough to bring it up through her nose as well.

“Alright, breathe,” Shantel told her gently, even though she knew that was out of Candy’s control.

Candy sniffed as tears fell from her eyes, which Shantel quickly wiped away. She gagged again, her whole body moving violently, but this time only managing to bring up a trickle of bile. Shantel grabbed some tissues off the nightstand to wipe away the string of saliva that was dangling from Candy’s lips before throwing it into the bin. “Do you feel better?” Shantel asked her seriously, a bit worried at this point.

Candy shook her head but was clearly done vomiting as she held the bin as far away from her face as possible. “The smell is going to–” Candy was interrupted as she gagged and Shantel quickly pulled the bin away from her.

“Okay, I’m gonna go take care of this, you lay down and try to get some more sleep.” Candy nodded and Shantel made sure her girlfriend was situated before leaving the dorm room to take care of the trashcan full of puke.

“I feel like I’m never going to get better, I’ve been sick for so long.”

Shantel was lying on the bed with Candy using her stomach as a pillow while she stroked her girlfriends’ hair. “It’s literally only been two hours,” Shantel pointed out but she smiled fondly at how dramatic her girlfriend managed to make everything.

“That’s a long time,” Candy retorted. “And my stomach hurts really bad, too.”

Shantel sighed and shifted the two of them, ignoring Candy’s protests. Once they were settled, Shantel placed her hand on Candy’s stomach and began to rub in soft circles. “Does that feel good.”

Candy smiled for the first time that morning, making it worthwhile. “Yes,” she admitted. “Thank you.”

“Just sleep, you big baby.” Quieter, Shantel added, “I’ll be here the whole time.”

[black-strike-otp]

part 83

>83 Huehuehue hewwo followews, I hope yow awe weady for more qpq!

//is psychically mauled to death for being such meme trash//

She couldn’t escape. There was no way out. No matter how much she screamed, the walls kept closing in around her. With blubbering, ugly sobs she pleaded for help but no one answered her calls.

Voices whispering; calling to her. As she fell forward to protect herself she felt weightless; floating. Cracking her optics open, she looked around. But, how could she get here? This didn’t make sense. She’d just been elsewhere; with decaying burrows and hollow spaces of flooded abyss.

A place that should have brought her comfort only tortured her now. She couldn’t comprehend why the Rising Star was in tatters before her very optics. As she walked down the corridor she looked around with a tense frame. The walls covered with blood, dented and scratched, the lights mostly open and flickering. Almost every door she passed was ajar or forcibly ripped open.

A maniacal laughter seemed to broadcast through the comm system and she shuddered, pausing where she stood to look around.

Just as she turned she knew it was too late. A terrified scream escaped her.

It felt like slamming through glass and she was flying. Rolling to the ground she groaned, looking up slowly. Figures swirled around her, cloaked in darkness. Some were faceless, others ghastly.

She recognized their faces, she knew some of their names. Shambled and broken, the majority dragged themselves like zombies towards her. All she could manage was a strangled cry as they moved in closer and closer. From one to the next, she saw the living pairing with the dead. Megatron’s face moved through the crowd like a mirage; Starscream’s poking up over there, and there was that faceless Soundwave, Neutroboost, Guard’s haunted faceplate-

“I’m sorry,” she bawled, bowing her helm as she covered her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t help you; I can’t help any of you please, please let me be!”

“We don’t want your help,” many voices blended together at once.

Sniffling, she curled herself inward towards her chassis, weeping louder.

“We want revenge,” some echoed.

“We want power,” others hissed.

“We want destruction,” moaned more.

“We want your screams,” they whispered. “We want your grief, your torment; we want you to suffer.”

“No, please,” she begged, hiccuping. “Please- P- Please, please- please leave me alone- leave me alone!”

Silhouettes dived for her, and she screamed.

~

Lurching forward, Novastrike gulped for air. Her ventilation system cycled loudly as she clawed her way out of the darkness fogging her thoughts and her vision. With each pulse of her racing spark, the little femme could feel the thunder roaring through her frame. Each chord like a strike against her insides.

Someone said something above her as their shadow moved across the light fixture from above. She winced, paying the outline of the figure no mind while bringing her servo to her side. Flicking her audio receptors forward, she blinked slowly as she felt around the foreign piece of metal around her.

Cloudy memories began to come through the haze of her thoughts. She sniffed, trying to ignore the cold clinical feel of the berth behind her and strong odors. As her spark grew steady she could make out the sound of voices speaking while opening and closing her dry mouth. It certainly didn’t help her feel better; the smells in the air left a bad taste on her glossia pungent and wretched.

She raised her helm towards the light and blinked rapidly as her optics adjusted.

“Novastrike?”

She blinked further. Sound was beginning to become clear again.

Nighthawk’s alarmed faceplate was looking down at her. She grumbled as he reached out, flashing a light in her optics as she swatted tiredly at his digits.

“Stop,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry dear, just checking pupil response. It sounded like you were having a nasty night terror there, care to tell me about it?”

Grumbling, she pawed at Nighthawk’s servo further as the white armor servo delicately held her face. The light flickered off; although it wasn’t much of a difference with the overhead florescent. Fortunately the seeker medic stood in the way of the majority of its blinding yellowish glow.

He pressed a scanner near her frame to take reference of her vitals while pressing something else against her chassis. Nova blinked a bit slower now as she looked down to the equipment briefly and looked around. Monitors for pulse check read out on a screen, as well as energon level. Her optics moved to her arm and then looked up, realizing she had small tabs pressed into and against her armor.

With a huff the little femme looked up at Nighthawk’s faceplate and down his frame. He was spotless of dust now, just as she was. Without the layers of beige coloring him, she could make out the slight marks and cuts against him. They appeared shallow from what she could tell. Although it brought to her attention that he still had a large welded patch covering his armor.

“How long have I been out?”

“Only about 4 joors and two thousand five hundred and eight nanokliks.”

Novastrike gaped at him. As she recovered, she snorted as she said, “Only about.”

He gave a slightly reserved smile while pulling away his scanner. While looking over the results of his device, she bothered to look around the room once more. From the look of it, most of the other patients had already been given the green-light to leave. She had to bet that some of them probably could have used the rest and down-time, but this wasn’t the Rising Star. Bots were expected to work through injuries; especially the ‘least important’ Decepticons.

The scarlet colored grounder she had seen a few times popping in and out of this room seemed to be unhappily servicing the berths so that they were clean, with Infiltrator putting away equipment. The dragon would bother to spare them a glance as he limped around the room lightly. Judging by the fact he was even allowed to be up at the moment at all must have been a good thing.

“Where’s Blackout and Scorponok?” Nova murmured, looking back to Nighthawk. “And why are you and Infiltrator working when you were among those in the fight?”

“I was fine, nothing a scrub down of dirt and scorch marks couldn’t handle,” he announced. “Infiltrator on the other servo, should be lying down, but he managed to allude me during the rush of bots. After I gave him a temporary patch and moved on to the next, he was wandering around.”

Nova smiled slightly. “Gets his stubbornness from you.”

“Ohho, you think so?” the medic questioned lightly, smiling.

She nodded her helm lightly, offering her own faint impression of a smile in return.

“Don’t worry about him,” Nighthawk whispered, “I’ll knock him some tranquilizers when he’s not expecting it and give him a more proper adjustment to that leg.”

“I heard that.”

“Pretend you didn’t.”

“I still have blackmail on you, boss bot.”

She giggled at their bickering, watching as Nighthawk’s expression turned absolutely viscous for a nanoklik at the reminder that there were images still in existence of him looking more like a pin-up femme than a mech.

“As for Blackout,” he continued on with some malice in his tone with irritation, “he didn’t get caught up in the majority of the fighting, so he’s quite well. He’s been taking heat from Lord Megatron who seems to correctly assume he was not patrolling when the incident occurred.”

“And Scorponok?” she pressed.

“He’s fine too; just running around a filthy mess,” the crimson seeker reported a bit more sobered now. “That’s more of Blackout’s problem, not mine.”

Venting, she slumped her shoulders with some relief. At least no one was too badly roughed up.

Turning on a thousand-watt smile, Nighthawk gave a warm laugh. “Not the least bit concerned about your own condition, are you?”

“Oh- well,” she shrugged vaguely. It didn’t seem to process that she was in the med-bay for her own sake, for whatever reason.

As his smile tapered off, the medic’s optics showed a slight cloud of concern. He had been teasing her, but she seemed legitimately disinterested in her own well-being.

Clearing his vocalizer, he looked down at his scanner as he reported in a more serious tone of voice, “I’m happy to report that you have no serious damage whatsoever. Your system crashed once the adrenaline was zapped out of you, but you’ll be just fine. Some light damage; I was able to find and replace or repair what was required. Thank your spark that Knock Out actually has supplies to fit your tiny dimensions.”

Speaking up across the room, Knock Out loudly added in, “This is the Decepticon warship under Lord Megatron’s command.”

“I’m sure they have the parts accounted for on behalf of Soundwave, and his sole surviving minicon,” Night whispered to her quietly.

Sole surviving? That was... horribly depressing to hear.

Turning her optics to the door, Novastrike twitched her ears forward to listen.

“He was outside,” Nighthawk said knowingly. “Since the room has cleared out, if you find it acceptable, I can allow him access inside.”

“And Scorponok?”

“And Scorponok.”

She turned her helm up and nodded towards Nighthawk quickly.

Offering her a charming smile, he headed over for the door, leaving her under the blinding light. She hissed up at it unpleasantly and went to shroud herself with her arms, grumbling.

The hum of metal moved as the sequence opened the doorway entry. Nighthawk’s calm voice spoke kindly but firmly to whom stood outside. Novastrike could just slightly pick out rumbled strand of short words used by her beloved mech as he spoke quietly.

Each stride Blackout took was large and fast as he moved through the room. Novastrike barely had a chance to take in his frame before he was at the edge of the berth; a tower of darkness in front of her. She gave the slightest squeak, leaning back as Scorponok’s pitter-patter pedes hurried after his master.

Before she could speak up, Blackout gave a slight growl, poking at the trail of thin wires dangling from her. He shot a deathly glare to Nighthawk as he casually joined them at the berth.

“You said she was fine,” he snarled. “What is all this?”

“Relax yourself mech, Primus, you’re going to have an aneurysm,” Nighthawk testily responded. “She is fine; those are just the monitors.”

“And what about this?” he pointed to the wound at her side.

Nova saw the look of guilt cross Nighthawk’s faceplate.

“Blackout, stop,” she whispered, reaching out in his direction with servos pawing at the air.

He gave a quiet growl as he slowly tore his optics away from the medic. Reaching out, he caged his servos around her and dragged her towards him. The majority of the cables snapped off of her and Nighthawk raised his digit before lowering it, venting with frustration.

Poking her helm over the protective barrier, Novastrike gave a sweet smile towards Nighthawk. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

The medic gave a crisp nod. He moved around the berth, turning off the monitors now that they were effectively useless and quietly blaring a noise of warning.

“Hey, Nighthawk,” she spoke up louder, turning just enough to catch his optic as he looked to her once more. “It’s not your fault I jumped in and got in the way. I’m sorry I uh- ruined your fight.”

The old medic offered a tired smile and nodded to her gently. There was still a guilty light in his optics. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he almost wished he took the blow instead of her.

“If you need anything, just call,” he stated. “I’m going to go pounce on a dragon now.”

Infiltrator lifted his helm up and dropped a piece of scrap metal on the floor with a clatter.

She felt like she still had a thousand more words to speak to Nighthawk and get it through his helm that he wasn’t to blame her for her accident, but he was off in a hurry. Something banged behind her as she turned to look up at Blackout and there was squabbling in the background. At least she wasn’t holding him back from taking care of Infiltrator.

“You didn’t need to snap at him,” she scolded softly. “He’s not the one who hurt me.”

Rumbling, Blackout kept a servo around her as he raised his other one. Plucking off the remainder of the wires, he tossed them aside with a flick of his digit. The glaring light of his optics was almost blackened with a silent rage.

Tilting his helm up, he squinted at the light and tapped it as well, pushing it so that the light filtered out over the room instead of directly over her.

With a slight smile, she shook her helm as Blackout bent over, scooped up Scorponok with one servo while he flailed around, and dropped him on the berth. The bug gave an indecent chatter with some swears thrown in beneath his breath as he scuttled close, adding to the obstruction around her as Blackout curled his servos around the both of them loosely.

“Better?”

She laughed a little breathlessly. “I was fine before.”

“You didn’t look very comfortable,” he offered as his voice softened.

“I’m fine- although maybe I’d like to hear you apologize to Nighthawk later for being an aft about his work. He’s doing his best, you didn’t need to gripe.”

Giving a slight vent, he nodded his helm quickly with understanding. “Yes, yes fine alright, I’ll do that.”

“Good,” she purred, reaching out to brush her digits over his chassis. Blackout gave the slightest tremble before dragging his arms closer to his frame, and with it, pulling herself and a slightly alarming scorpion closer to him protectively.

“Nighthawk told me you were having a nightmare,” he commented gently. “Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Damn the medic.

“No, it was nothing,” she vented softly. “Just- you know, backwater from the fight.”

He made a sound in his throat like he didn’t believe her. To her relief though, he decided to respect her wish not to speak on it. Instead, moving one of his servos to hug her against his chassis gingerly.

“Soft mech,” she mouthed against his armor.

Blackout gave a quiet chuckle.

“Next time I see Arcee, I’m going to shake that femme like a ragdoll until I break her fragging neck.”

Optics flashing with alarm, Novastrike pulled her helm back to look up at him.

“Dear, you don’t need to-”

“She’ll be lucky if I make it that quick for her.”

“Blackout,” she hissed under her breath. “Love, that’s hardly necessary. I got a bit battered. Don’t we all?”

Nodding slowly, Blackout gave a quiet growl as he muttered, “Still going to beat the cocky slag out of her.”

“You are such a diva,” she teased with a slight smile. “Look, I’m fine. Nighthawk told me himself. I probably won’t be here in the med-bay very long. You don’t have to beat the snot out of every bot who makes me tumble and fall.”

“But I like to, and I’m good at it,” he argued quietly, pouting.

Rolling her optics, she pressed her faceplate into his armor as she mumbled, “You’re despicable, and I love you.”

“And I you,” he whispered quickly, glancing down at her with a warm smile. He placed his other servo upon Scorponok, the minicon chattering as he scratched under his chin.

For a nanoklik he glanced over to where Knock Out was suspiciously, but the medic seemed deep in staring at his reflection in some of the equipment Infiltrator had cleaned. He deadpanned before turning a smile back down to the little femme.

A groan captured Novastrike’s attention and she went to look back as Nighthawk helped Infiltrator climb on a berth. The drake slumped over the edge and wagged his only back leg hanging off the edge in the air. Opening his maw, he stretched his jaw in a yawn as he plopped his helm down. A dart was dangling from near his aft.

Novastrike let out a muted laugh, covering her mouth and hiding her faceplate against Blackout’s armor once more.

His armor vibrated lightly in response, a lovely hum moving through him from the depths of his chassis and throat.

“Nighthawk’s going to be searching for schematics on the tunnel later,” Blackout muttered, barely opening his mouth as he spoke in a whisper. “We’re going to need to figure out the most probable locations of the guards from the layout.”

“When are we doing to strike once we have the layout?”

Blackout looked up, looking over to Nighthawk as he pushed the remainder of Infiltrator’s rump on the berth. The poor old mech gave a heavy grunt, wiping at his brow in a gesture of exhaustion.

“As soon as every bot is good and healed,” he noted with a nod to the medic. “And we get Nighthawk the proper armor enhancement for his chassis so he’s not jeopardized by just having some scrap metal welded on.”

Breathing in slowly, Novastrike raised her helm up and down, her forehead brushing Blackout’s chassis. His digits curled around her, hugging her to his frame as he rumbled lightly.

It wouldn’t be much longer now, and they’d be seeing Cybertron, their homeworld, again. And although she knew this was the best choice at the time, she couldn’t help feeling shame and remorse, knowing that the Rising Star was out there and there was no way of knowing if any of the bots were still online.

[justtextmeoppa]

❝ You are my choice  ❞

Plot: What happened after his “goodbye” / Pt 1. 

KanginxReader

Words count: 1,8k+

For my lovable Illi, I hope you like it! M.

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner! ♥

“Y/N … I go, okay? If you need call me, mh? ”

You slightly nod at your brother’s words, doing a little smile to calm him down. You know he doesn’t believe in that smile, both of you know it’s fake, but luckily he goes out of your room and then, leaving you alone again. You sigh of relief and with an effort get up out of bed, going to close the curtains with anger. You can hear the shot that your gesture makes and it seems the same noise that your heart made two weeks earlier. When it’s broken and you lost everything.

The darkness back to owning those four walls, doing company to your pain and almost soothing you and protecting you. When you hear the bed slamming against your leg you know you have arrived at your destination, you lie down and stay still, without cover you or fight the cold you feel. You can’t kick him out, the cold, like it’s penetrate inside you.

As you close your eyes you can see again the moments along with Kangin. The day you met, your first kiss, the first time you had love and every memory hurts more than the last. It rips you in, making you bleed and you don’t know how to react. Two weeks have passed since he left you and nothing was attempts to Leeteuk and others to reason with him. We weren’t hoping for, he was never a man who changes his mind easily.

Your eyes will close for fatigue, you couldn’t sleep well for days, when the sound of the door lock wakes you up completely. Your brother has just gone away, only two other people have the keys to your house. And you know that your mother is traveling in Japan with her friends.

You almost fall out of bed because of the agitation that pervades every inch of your body, you want to race in the lounge while you confirm that it’s him, an indeed when light dazzles you, him is there, at the door. His gaze makes you realize that he hoped not to see you and it hurts just as much as his abandonment.

“K-Kangin…”

“I was hoping you were working.”

“And i-instead… Where… Where have you been? Are you all right? Are you eating? ”

“I’m fine but maybe it’s better if I leave, I’ll be back to get my things another day.”

He whispers and you feel your heart break for the umpteenth time, asking you where you’re wrong. You always try to be at his side to support him and love him unconditionally. The answers don’t come but instead tears begin to slide down your cheeks while a hiccups get blocked in your throat, almost taking your breath away.  

He’s about to open the door when you see he freezes and a pinch of hope heats your heart but it’s an useless hope because he comes out without uttering a single word and shutting the door firmly.

Yet another abandonment by the person who promised to stay.

                                               ____

“Y/N where are you?”

“House… I asked for a day off, again. ”

Leeteuk’s sigh on the other side of the phone makes you realize how much your voice is dull and you hate it, but you can’t help it. You’re trying to react but everything seems pointless.

“I’m going now, I need to take a bath… See you later, okay? ”

“Y/N… You should go ahead. ”

“I’m trying, Teuk.. I’m trying.. I’ll text you later, love you. ”

You close the call and turn off your phone directly, you don’t want to talk to anybody and the only thing you want to do is plunge yourself in hot water and clearing your mind though.

The clothes end up on the ground while you’re walking to the bathroom, you don’t mind of the mess since you live alone in that huge and empty house, you go in the bathroom and open the water taps, dropping your favorite lotion to make the bath more relaxing.

Your gaze rests on the side of the sink with all his things, toothbrush, aftershave, perfumes and hand cream that you gave him a few months earlier. You smile sadly, ignoring the water flowing and picking his favorite perfume, by sprinkling a little on both your wrists. You feel pathetic but you could feel its smell and that’s a small, albeit useless, consolation.

“I’m sorry Kangin.”  You whisper while a solitary tear falls on the back of your hand, and you dry her immediately and going to close both water taps. It’s in doing so that you finally notice noises in the house and you wrap in the bathrobe, starting to be visibly frightened.

You stay hidden behind the door and put just the head above it, relaxing as soon as you see your now ex boyfriend while he’s filling a bag with some clothes.

“Kangin." 

You call him coming out of the bathroom that communicates directly with the bedroom, but he doesn’t turn around and continues to fill the bag, this time with a fury that he hadn’t a few moments before.

"Kangin. We need to talk. ”

“I’ve nothing to say Y/n. What I had to say I told you nearly a month ago.”

“YOU HAVEN’T TOLD ME ANYTHING! NOT A SINGLE EXPLANATION, NOTHING! YOU GAVE UP AT THE FIRST DIFFICULTY, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME? HUH? YOU’RE A COWARD. ”

“Don’t you dare Y/n. Don’t.. don’t you dare. ”

“To do what? YOU ARE A COWARD, DON’T RUN AHEAD OF REALITY”.

That seems to be the spark that blows up the fire, because after a while you find yourself up against the wall because of fear. You see him while destroying everything he founds and violently knocks off your desk each photography that you carefully framed over the years. You look upset, crippled by fear and for a moment you think you should run, but you can’t do it. His screams are harrowing and hurt more than anything else. It's when, finally, he turns to you that in his eyes you see something that you didn’t think there was. It’s the same pain you feel every day, leading it like a second skin and it’s painful to see that kind of pain on him.

“What do you think? That I wanted to leave you? Huh? Do you think… Do you think I’m having a great time Y/N? Do you think I’m fine? I’M SORRY, ALL RIGHT? I’M SORRY FOR BEING A TOTAL SHIT AND I HURT YOU. I’M SORRY I BROUGHT YOU TO EXASPERATION AND I REGRET NOT BEING ABLE TO PROTECT YOU AND MAKE YOU HAPPY. I.. You’re the only light I had. You were the only one to make me really happy and I let you go, even before you really go. I saw you slipping away and I didn’t do anything to prevent it. Because you deserved better. I don’t know what happens to me, I don’t know… Everything is slipping away and I feel lost, looking for something that maybe doesn’t exist. And I dragged you too.. Do you think I wanted to leave you Y/N? I wanted a future with you, I could see it in my mind. But you deserve better. You don’t deserve a person that makes you suffer like I did. You deserve more. ”

“K-Kangin. Please.. ”

You swallow as you approach a few steps to him, ignoring the fear of seeing him explode again and start to destroy your objects. He has his head bowed and you see him sobbs, crying and it’s so rare to see him cry that you find yourself crying at your time.

“Kangin.. Listen me.. ”

“I need to go Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“No. You’re not going anywhere, I won’t allow it. ”

“You have to let me go… It’s for your own sake ”

You shake your head vehemently and finally cupping your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to raise his face. Your eyes meet and you feel a shiver coursin’ through your whole body, making you tremble. It’s the same feeling you felt the day you met him and the day you knew he was the right one for you.

“Do you know what is my sake, Kangin?”

“Go on without me.” He whispers trying to look away, but you hold his face and look at him intently.

“No. That’s my destruction. ”

“Y/N… I’m not the right person for you… ”

“You are. What kind of relationship would be without problems? You’ve got to let me help you and don’t leave me out of everything. Do you really want to throw away everything we lived? ”

His eyes finally ignite a spark that you thought they had lost and you feel his body move closer to yours, provoking another shiver down your spine. You feel his hands lay on your hips and he completely draws you towards him, taking your breath for a moment.  

“Y/N… I don’t want to destroy you. ”

“If you get out of this house-.. It’s what you do. If you remain instead.. We can handle everything. I need you, I love you and I belong to you Kangin. I tried, I tried so hard to forget you in these days, thinking that maybe it was better that way. But the more I tried to get you out of my mind over your memory becomes intense and overwhelming. ”

“I risk to hurt you. I D-Don’t… I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel lost… ”

“I’m here.”

“I don’t want to ruin your life. It would be my greatest regret. ”

You sighs, resting your forehead against his, having to get up on tiptoe saw the difference in height, forcing yourself not to touch his lips that seem to call you.

“Can I decide for myself?”

“Obviously.”

“You are my choice. You were, you are, and you always will be Kangin. ”

Your answer makes him tremble, you feel because of your bodies almost overlap to each other, bridging the distance between your lips.

And it’s thanks to a kiss that you come back, finally, to live again.

[takarazuka-rpf]

ITEIWAY 13

Disclaimer: This is an RPF (Real Person Fiction) meaning anything written here does not reflect the events in real life.

Miyu:

'Night.’

Miyu squeezed her eyes shut as she took in Chigi's voice and her heart ached to the point where she feared it would finally break.

Something was pressing down on her chest as Miyu took a painful intake of air, trying to breathe normally again. Her shaky hand went up to clutch at the material above her own heart, attempting to stop it from breaking even further.

Miyu clenched her teeth together as she tried to stop the tears from flowing and whimpers from escaping. Her eye sight was also becoming more and more blurred as she felt her own tears fall onto her lap, creating a pool of moisture.

Unable to stand this suffering anymore, Miyu painfully lowered the phone and with her eyes shut, she ended the call.

 She didn't care if Chigi-san still wanted to speak.

She didn't care if it was rude or disrespectful to hang up like that.

All she cared about now was getting away as far as possible and as quickly as possible.

Having said this, Miyu could not be more confused.

She didn't know why her body was reacting this way and she didn't understand what was happening to her.

This was a feeling she had never felt before and it was definitely not something she enjoyed.

The conversation had become too unbearable for Miyu because no matter what Chigi said to her, Miyu could not get out of her mind that Seshiru was beside Chigi. Seshiru who was getting to love and care for Chigi and Seshiru who was getting to spend time with Chigi and touch her how ever she wanted.

Then feeling an immediate wave of anger come over her, Miyu throw her phone violently across the room where it smashed into the wall and fell uselessly onto the floor.

Miyu didn't feel in control of her body anymore as she felt her arm swing the device far away from her body. She had decided to let her instincts lead her actions as it was simply the easiest thing to do right now.

She just didn't want to think anymore.

'Oi! Calm down!’

MoMo had come over almost immediately to kneel in front the crying Miyu, whose eyes were fluffy and red. MoMo's own eyes had been wide with shock and concern as she watched Miyu fling the phone across the room.

'Hey hey what happened?' MoMo looked up at Miyu with gentle yet apprehensive eyes as she placed a comforting hand on Miyu's shoulders. MoMo spoke in the softest tone as possible while she tried desperately to understand the situation.

Nonetheless, Miyu was unable to make any comprehensive sentences because there were too many emotions running through her right now, all wanting to dominate her body.

She tried her best to speak but it was an unsuccessful attempt.

'I-I Chi-g- an- Seshi-ru in-be to-ther,' said Miyu amongst her crying and hiccups, 'I- shoul -n't 've cal-'

MoMo tried her hardest to put the broken syllables together but it just didn't work.

'It's ok, it's ok. Take your time,' said MoMo as she began to rub the side of Miyu's arm giving her some comfort. MoMo could feel Miyu's body tremble while Miyu's current state was starting to scare MoMo.

'I-shou-ave-cal-ed.' Miyu said again amongst falling tears and erratic breathing.

'What?' MoMo asked gently once more because Miyu really wasn't making any sense.

'I SAID I SHOULDN'T HAVE CALLED!’

All of the sudden, Miyu pushed MoMo away forcefully and resulted in MoMo falling back onto her back with a stunned expression.

The room went silent for a moment and the only sound present was MoMo's pained groan.

Realising what she had just done, Miyu gasped and covered her mouth with her hand with wide eyes. Her throat was sore from the scream she just let out.

Miyu became horrified at her outburst as she watched MoMo trying to sit up again while was rubbing her own back.

'I-I'm so sorry,' Miyu stuttered out.

Gosh what had she become? Miyu stared at her own hands as if they weren't hers and a state of panic took over her.

'I-I need t-to be alone right now.'

At once, she stood up and ran towards the direction of her bedroom.

She needed to be alone right now, before she hurts something or someone else.

(MoMo POV) MoMo placed her hand on her lower back as she tried to massage the area of pain while rolling on her side and sitting up. Her eyes were scrunched up from the mild agony and her mind was all over the place thinking what had happened.

Jesus Christ what the hell was going on?!

But before she had the chance to speak, MoMo saw that Miyu was already running off to her bedroom.

'Miyu where you going?!' shouted MoMo after the disappearing figure of Miyu.

Whatever happened, it looked like it was slowly destroying Miyu and Miyu's pain radiated so much that MoMo was feeling it too.

Getting on her two feet, MoMo chased after her. But alas, Miyu was too fast because when MoMo got to her bedroom entrance, Miyu had already slammed the door.

*BANG BANG BANG*

MoMo started to knock as forcefully as possible demanding Miyu to open up.

'Miyu open this door right now!'

No reply.

*BANG BANG BANG*

'Miyu! Talk to me for goodness sake!'

Still no reply.

Not giving up, MoMo pressed her ear to the door trying to hear what was going on. She slowed down her own breathing as she attempted to hear anything from opposite the door. However, when she did manage to hear, all she heard was the sound of Miyu's relentlessly sobbing.

*BANG BANG BANG*

'Oi! Miyu! Come on! Talk to me!' MoMo begged while her own voice became hoarse but Miyu still did not budge.

But after a few more useless tries, MoMo finally gave in.

Miyu wasn't going to open the door until she was ready, she needed some space. Then slowly backing away from the door, MoMo decided to come to her own deductions.

Something must have happened during that phone call.

Miyu must have heard something she didn't want to.

Also who was that Seshiru-san person?

Anyway, MoMo knew this HAD to be something to do with Chigi-san.

Then deciding it was time for her to take matters into her own hands, MoMo started to head downstairs again. She intended to search for the phone Miyu had thrown earlier.

When she had founded it, MoMo picked it up and saw that the screen had cracked but fortunately, it was still functioning. The cracks resembled a spider web and she wondered if this was what Miyu's heart looked like now, shattered.

Then, something shiny flashed into her eyes as she noticed a snow shaped keyring lying a little further away from the phone. When she got closer to the object, she bent down and picked it up with her other hand.

MoMo moved the keyring around within the space of her palm as she began to make the link that the snow shape had something to do with Yukigumi, therefore, this must have held a great sentimental value for Miyu.

Realising this, she tucked it into the pocket of her trousers for safe-keeping. She had a feeling Miyu would want this back later.

Then returning her attention back to the phone, MoMo began to scroll through Miyu's contacts, trying to find a phone number with one goal in sight.

If one person was going to make Miyu better, it was going to be Chigi-san.

With this thought engraved into her mind, she transferred Chigi's number onto her own mobile and began to compose a text.

Chigi better have an idea on how to fix a broken Miyu. Because otherwise, MoMo was coming to get her.

Chigi:

'Miyu loves me.'

These word came out weakly from Chigi's mouth while still having no idea of what she was saying. Her mind was currently being torn apart between reality and fantasy.

This was point where the two worlds crossed as the thought of Miyu loving her had only existed in Chigi's own fantasy, up until now of course.

But now that it was becoming a reality, Chigi was finding it difficult to process, in fact, saying this was an understatement.

'What did you just say Chigi-san?'

Seshiru's voice was soft and full of concern but Chigi did not hear her. Instead, her mind was somewhere far, far away, in a void of her own little world.

 Miyu loves her.

Miyu loves her.

Miyu loves her.

Her eyes were wide as she stood there perfectly still with these 3 words chanting again and again in her head. Her whole body felt numb as her mind took her along an endless circle.

 Then, as if Kami-sama had struck her with a lightning bolt, the realisation suddenly became VERY real for Chigi.

 Holy fuck, Sakihi Miyu was in love with her.

At once, Chigi felt her sanity leave her body as she brought both of her hands up to clasp at her own head. Her fingers scrunched tightly at the roots of her hair, ignoring the pain.

Chigi started to feel dizzy as her legs began to fail below her. Chigi stumbled from where she stood until she crashed into the nearby cupboard where the objects on the wooden furniture fell as it shook with Chigi's force. She attempted to stabilise herself with weak limbs and she was not succeeding.

Immediately, Seshiru jumped up from where she sat and grabbed Chigi by the arm preventing her from falling.

'CHIGI!' Shouted Seshiru as she tried to catch Chigi.

Luckily, she had managed to get a hold of Chigi before she came crashing down onto the floor. Seshiru supported all of Chigi's weight, until Chigi found stability within her own legs.

But this contact, Chigi's head swung around and looked at Seshiru with wide eyes.

And as if she had being burnt, she jerked away, earning a small startled gasp from Seshiru.

'Leave.' Said Chigi with an unreadable expression but even a blind man could tell she was dangerous to approach right now.

But ignoring this, Seshiru continued to take a concerned step towards Chigi with arms reaching out for Chigi.

'I SAID LEAVE!' Chigi shouted as her eyes met with Seshiru's.

However, when she saw what was inside Seshiru's eyes, something clicked inside her and straightaway, Chigi began to regret her words. She realised that Seshiru's eyes were becoming beady with quickly forming tears.

Chigi saw the genuine worry in them as well as the hurt Chigi had just inflicted on Seshiru. With this observation noted, Chigi began to take a more welcoming stance and composed herself as much as possible.

She knew Seshiru meant well but there was no way Chigi could deal Seshiru right now. She didn't have the mental or the physical energy to because she needed it to think for herself first.

'Please… leave,' said Chigi this time more gently and with eyes closed, 'I need a moment to be alone.' She hoped that if Seshiru were to grant her one request, this would be it.

Her own tears were beginning to form but she did not want to shed them in front of Seshiru as she knew it would only break Seshiru's heart even more. After all, Chigi knew how Seshiru felt about her too.

Nonetheless, Seshiru continued to remain her ground and Chigi clenched her hands together into a fist, preventing herself from losing her temper once again.

There was a pause between the two as both of them began to calculate their next moves. But suddenly, Seshiru spoke.

'I'll go,' said Seshiru firmly but with a tone of tenderness still evident, 'I'll give you time. But I expect you to talk to me once you're ready.'

Chigi's hard gaze met with Seshiru's and immediately saw that it was full of sincerity. Seshiru's stare burnt into Chigi's as they began an intense staring contest.

However, realising she could not win this fight, Chigi gave in and looked away.

'Fine,' said Chigi just as firmly back, 'I'll talk to you. When I'm ready.'

Chigi masked a hard expression but what was really hidden behind, were emotions of pain, shame, confusion and helplessness.

Seshiru had seen through this of course and so she understood Chigi's need to be by herself right now. But Seshiru wanted an explanation, this was the least Chigi could do for her, and Chigi knew that.

Then from the corner of Chigi's eyes, she saw Seshiru giving her a content nod before turning around to leave the room and shutting the door close behind her.

As soon as she heard the door close, Chigi collapsed weakly against the nearest wall and slumped down onto the floor. She will talk to Seshiru later but right now she needed to sort out the mess that was in her head.

But Chigi didn't know where to begin.

Chigi let out a shaky sigh as her lips trembled from remaining complicated emotions running through her.

 So.

 Miyu loved her.

 Chigi scrunched her eyes up as she tried to comprehend this newly realised fact.

 How did this happen?

WHEN did this happen?

But most importantly, oh how she had dreamt for this moment to come true.

Finally, those long held tears began to fall and Chigi wasn't sure if they were tears of joy or tears for their unfortunate yet inevitable love.

Chigi leant her head back as she allowed herself to finally liberate the emotions that had accumulated within her these past couple of days through crying.

'I love you too… Miyu'

Chigi whispered breathily up to the sky while the tears streamed down. This way, she hoped that somehow Miyu would be able to hear her.

Then slowly realising what all those past blushes and shy words from Miyu really meant, Chigi wailed even more as she bought her hand up to cover her mouth, trying to muffle the noises. Again, Chigi didn't know if she was crying because of happiness or despair. Maybe it was both.

But even so, it was still loud enough for Seshiru to hear from downstairs.

Chigi wondered if it hadn't been for those 3 words and Miyu's crying combined, how much longer she would have kept herself in the dark and how much longer she would have continued to lie to herself.

Everyone else had been right all along, whereas she had failed to realise.

Mattsu.

Saki.

Hitoko.

Seshiru.

They had all told her over and over again but Chigi just didn't believe it.

Because Chigi didn't believe in herself.  

'Stupid stupid stupid!' As she said to herself repeatedly.

 3 years.

 3 years of being with Miyu and she only realised now?!

 How could she have been so blind?!

Chigi banged the back of her head against the wall continuously as the realisation of regret and her foolishness came over her.

Right now, all she wanted to do was to be close to Miyu, embracing her in her arms and whispering strings of 'I love you' directly into her ears. Chigi wondered how that would feel like, having Miyu's warmth intertwined with her own while she caressed Miyu's soft hair like she has no care in the world.

There was no more guilt inside her for thinking like this way anymore, because now she knew how Miyu felt about her.

 Thank god for that phone call.

 But oh god that phone call…

Chigi's dread then overcame her as she tried to imagine how Miyu must be feeling right now. Miyu's crying was a noise she never wanted to hear again. Because recalling the way Miyu's voice had cracked over the phone, pulled on every single one of Chigi's heartstrings and she was sure it would be less painful if someone just tore out her heart instead.

Fuck, she had messed up, she had messed up big time.

Having said this, deep down, part of her rejoiced at the fact that Miyu was jealous. Because this time Miyu wasn't jealous about Chigi dancing with the other musumeyakus, but this time it was about Chigi being with another person.

Then out of nowhere, an urge to let out a laugh entered Chigi as she began to marvel at how unbelievable and ridiculous this situation was.

Miyu loved her!

Never in a million years did Chigi imagine Miyu would feel this way towards her. Never in a million years did she imagine Miyu would reciprocate this love.

And yet still, Chigi wanted, no, she craved for one last confirmation.

 She craved for Miyu to say those 3 words with her own mouth. Because if she had that, Chigi would be willing to die where she stood and still profess that she had lived a long and blissful life.

 If this was all a dream, she hoped to never wake up from it.

If this was all a dream, she hop-

 *Buzz*

 Then, interrupting her thoughts, next to her on the floor, Chigi's phone buzzed as the screen came alive with the alert of a new message.

Scrambling to pick it up, Chigi wondered who this could be now.

She began to read the message.

You don't know who I am but I know who you are.

You are Sagiri Seina, the Ex Top Star of Takarazuka and I am Miyu's personal assistant, MoMo. I am writing because there are a few things I want to make clear with you.

First of all, I don't know what just happened but Miyu is a bloody mess right now. It had to be something that was said or occurred during that phone call because I have never, ever seen Miyu like this before.

Second of all, you better sort this shit out soon because otherwise I'll be coming for your ass before you can say the word 'sorry'.

I highly urge you to make up your decision on what to do next as quickly as possible and free Miyu, and yourself, from this unnecessary torture.

If you don't know what I am talking about, I'm sure you'll be able to work it out.

Hope to meet soon.

M

p.s. If you don't know how Miyu feels about you even now, you must be one blind person.

- Unknown number

Chigi stared at this message with her mouth slightly gaped open. If Chigi had any more doubts about Miyu's feelings towards her, this message just got rid of every single one of them.

Then unexpectedly, a faint smile appeared on Chigi's face because she realised Miyu did have some good people around her. This MoMo seemed to care for Miyu very much and Chigi was more than glad.

Chigi felt more at ease with herself now that she knew Miyu always had someone else looking out for her.

But bringing her focus onto the other part of the text, Chigi's heart began to sink as she realised how distraught Miyu must be feeling right now. If Chigi and Miyu had swapped places, Chigi could not even begin to envisage how she would have felt…

Only if Chigi was able to reassure Miyu her love for her, to take her home and to make Miyu hers.

But while thinking of these sweet possibilities, Chigi felt the fibres of optimism start to leave her again. Chigi knew the world would not be this kind to her.

Because what if Miyu had already started to despise Chigi?

From the text, it definitely sounded like as if MoMo already harboured feelings of animosity towards her.

What if Miyu refused to ever forgive her?

More importantly, what if Chigi refused to ever forgive herself?

On one hand, Chigi thought maybe she deserved this treatment, this punishment. But on the other, she didn't want any of those things to be true. Because she wanted Miyu's love and she wanted all of it.

Having said this, Chigi was beginning to feel more self-conflicted than ever in her life.

Because so what if they had mutual feelings for each other now?

Did it mean they'll end up together just like that? Any famous love story would tell you the answer to that was a big, fat 'NO'; take Romeo and Juliet for example, or the Titanic. In fact, if all of those lovers tried NOT to be together, maybe they would have all survived instead.

And even if Chigi and Miyu managed to survive their love story, did it mean they will live happily ever after?

Chigi was doubtful.

Would Miyu continue to remain happy if Miyu gave up her potential-filled career just to be with Chigi?

Would Chigi then be happy seeing that Miyu had not realised all her dreams just for her?

Because all of this still did not change the fact that Miyu was now a big celebrity with paparazzi following her every move, and with fans expecting great things from her. Would Miyu ever truly belong to her?

Chigi felt she was regressing back to her old, pessimistic self again and she couldn't stop it from happening. But she had to admit it, Miyu's personal assistant was right, she cannot continue to torture themselves like this.

It was indeed time for Chigi to start making some serious decisions.

But for this, she needed to ask herself these question first:

Was happiness being with Miyu?

Or was happiness letting go of Miyu, once and for all.

Chigi thinks she already knew the answer.

In fact, she had always known the answer.