#Being sick just makes me even angrier (and of course more tired) than usual | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illegal-spiegel · 4 years ago

Text

Can We Kiss Now?

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinso x gn!reader Genre: fluff Warnings: none Summary: there’s a big misunderstanding between you and your best friend on Valentine’s Day but you eventually sort it out Word Count: 2.8k words Prompt #24: “Okay, we all get it. You’re in love with me. Can we kiss now?”

1k Followers Event

The fateful day finally happened.

Shinso was let into the hero course and not only that, he was put into class 1A. You swear you had never seen him smile more in your life. Well, that is until the day you two finally started dating after dancing around each other for months. The way it happened still makes you laugh and tease Shinso relentlessly, it never seeming to get old for you.

His first day in class 1A was chaotic, to say the least. Everyone was super friendly towards him, to his surprise. Especially Iida. The guy was so nice when he was introducing everyone, offering him to sit with him at lunch, and making sure that Shinso never fell behind with his studies. It made you want to be a better person too.

“Hi, I’m (Y/n). It’s nice to meet the infamous Shinso,” you say playfully while offering him your hand to shake. He looks up from something he’s writing to look at you, his, almost bored, eyes seeming to light up a fraction more.

He shakes your hand, a lazy smile gracing his handsome features. “Nice to meet the infamous (Y/n). I’ve heard quite a bit about you, you know,” he informs. You smile brighter than before, letting his hand go to lean against the desk next to his.

“I hope all good things,” you reply, making him chuckle and set down his pencil.

“Mostly,” he teases. You hum and look around at your classmates, finding most of them up and talking to others while waiting for your teacher to show up.

“Well, if you heard anything from Kaminari, ignore him. Everything that came from him is a lie,” you joke, knowing Kaminari would never talk badly about anyone. Shinso huffs a laugh before a smirk suddenly crawls onto his face.

“What if he said you’re cute?” he argues, raising a brow up at you. Your eyes widen at this, a blush instantly starting to spread across your face.

“Why that little—” you start before stopping from Shinso laughing.

“I’m just pulling your leg,” he reassures, making you puff out your cheeks before letting all of the air in your lungs go.

“You jerk,” you insult jokingly, tapping your foot against his leg. He hums and smiles at you, his eyes giving you a once over before turning to look back at his paperwork.

“Say, do you think you could help me with this? We hadn’t learned this yet in my class,” he asks softly, making you perk up and push off the desk.

“Oh, sure. I can try,” you sweetly reply as you come to stand by his desk now, looking over what he was working on. From there you helped him to the best of your ability, smiles and laughs being shared between you two every once in a while.

And that’s how your friendship first formed. You two ended up getting closer and closer, soon becoming best friends and being practically inseparable. It stayed that way for a while. That is until February came around.

Going to school on Valentine’s day kind of annoyed you. You were surrounded by chocolates, flowers, stuffed animals, cards, you name it. All the couples, new and old ones alike, are always all over each other and this year, it just reminds you that your crush doesn’t like you.

Yeah, it didn’t take you long to fall for the sarcastic male with a terrible sleeping schedule. The girls and some of the guys in your class always tried to reassure you that he likes you back but you just never saw it. Despite knowing what you think about it, they tease you both relentlessly. You don’t really mind it but Shinso seems to get annoyed by it? Or maybe irritated? You aren’t sure. He always has this far away look on his face whenever it happens.

You walk into the room to see goody bags on everyone’s desk, a smile coming to your face. You checked the sticker on it to see that it was from most of the girls in the class. They each added their own personal touch to the bag. You noticed that you got more candy than the others though, making your smile grow wider. You thank them and pop a sweet into your mouth after taking your seat, starting to look around the room.

Kaminari seems to be nervous, despite his bragging that he was going to nail a date today. You follow his jittery gaze to Jiro, a smirk coming to your face. Saw that one coming. You hope he asks her out, knowing that she likes him back.

From there, you continue to look around the room, seeing some looking tired and annoyed while others are blushing and holding gifts. It’s nice to see that some people are enjoying the holiday.

Just as class is about to start, Shinso comes in and takes his seat. You wanted to say hi to him before class started but you didn’t have time to do it now. Oh well, you’ll talk to him at lunch.

When the bell rang signaling lunch, you got out of your chair and stretched your limbs. You then turned towards Shinso’s desk, only to find him gone. You look around the room, wondering if he went to go ask Iida a question about the homework, only to find him nowhere in the room. Your brows furrow as a pout comes onto your face, a small sigh escaping you as you head out of the classroom to head to the cafeteria. After finding a seat and starting to eat, you find that Shinso isn’t in your usual spot, and after further examination, he wasn’t even in the cafeteria.

Where did he go? Is he having lunch on the roof? Was he not feeling well so he went back to the dorms? Or maybe he’s in the nurse’s office? Question after question swirled through your mind but with no answers, you felt a little bummed. You perked up though when the three musketeers sat down with you.

“Hey, (Y/n)! Where’s Shinso?” Deku asks as he sits next to Uraraka. You look between the two, hoping that Deku will ask her out soon. Uraraka had been telling you yesterday that she hopes he gives her a flower or something. You’ll have to ask her how that went.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

Uraraka raises her brow at you when you say that, her big eyes showing you just how confused she is. “Wait, really? But you two are practically always together. You both have like a sixth sense to always know where the other is,” she says half playfully, starting to dig into her noodles once she finishes speaking.

You smile a bit at her teasing but shrug your shoulders, still trying to think of where he could’ve run off to. “Yeah, I’m not sure where he went. The bell rang and when I turned to his desk, he was gone,” you explain. You look down at your own food, missing the look the three shoot each other.

“I’m sure he just went to the library or something,” Iida reassures, sending you that kind smile of his. You can’t help but return it, slowly nodding your head with a sigh to let out your nerves.

“I know. You’re right.” You let it go for now, deciding to just enjoy your lunch with your friends. When you four make it back to class, Shinso is sitting at his desk eating his lunch. You frown as you break away from the three to go over to your best friend.

“Hey. Why are you eating your lunch in here?” you ask worriedly. Is he mad at you? Did you do something? He looks up from his lunch for a split second before focusing back down on it again.

“I forgot my lunch at the dorms, so I just went back to go get it,” he explains. The frown still hangs heavy on your face, your arms crossing over your chest.

“Why didn’t you join us in the cafeteria after getting it then?” you pry further. This time, he doesn’t look at you, merely chewing on his lunch instead of answering you. Just as he swallows, the bell rings. You huff out a puff of air before leaving his desk to go to yours. The rest of the day seems to drag on, boredom covering every crevice of your mind.

That and Shinso.

You just couldn’t figure out why he was acting so weirdly. That’s when it hit you.

Is he going to ask someone out? Is he acting weird because he’s nervous? Or maybe that’s where he ran off to at lunch, to ask them out. But he seems so down. Did he get turned down? Or maybe they agreed and they said that they didn’t want him hanging around you anymore.

Your gut twists at the thought, your hands starting to shake a bit from how much you’re worrying. Is he going to stop being your friend? You can handle not being his but you at least want to be friends with him. You almost feel sick to your stomach, your entire body slouching in your chair as you stare blankly down at your desk.

When school finally came to an end, everyone rushed out of the school with excitement. As you walked down the hallway, you heard chatter of who asked who out and where so and so is going to go for their date. You just stare at your shoes, your back starting to hurt from all the slouching you’re doing.

“Hey, why didn’t you wait for me?” you hear a familiar voice say from behind and then beside you. You pick your head up to see Shinso, his brows furrowed together a bit as he hefts his bag further up his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you have lunch with me?” you fire right back, your eyes staring into his. He’s shocked by your surprise, his mouth dropping open for a moment.

“What? (Y/n)—”

“Look. I get it. I just wish you would’ve told me.” You just reach the dorms, letting him come to a stop. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not beside you and following you inside the dorms. You stop now as well to turn back and face him, raising your brow at him.

“You know what’s going on?” he asks, disappointment filling his tone and features. You scoff at this, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, I do. Don’t look so disappointed,” you snap before spinning around to continue walking away. You hear his feet scurry to catch up to you, his eyes wide when you glance at him.

“Sorry. I just wanted to be the one to tell you. Who told you?” he asks softly, a sigh escaping him. You ground your teeth together, getting angrier by the second.

“No one did. It wasn’t hard to figure out. I just don’t know why you didn’t tell me,” you hiss. He stays quiet for a moment before letting out another sigh, a hand coming up to drag his hand through his hair.

“I was going to today. I guess I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry,” he says weakly. You turn to look at him again, a sigh leaving you now.

“Look, it’s fine,” you reassure, sending him the best smile that you can manage at the moment. Your crush just confirmed your worst nightmare but he’s your best friend, so you’re determined to be here for him. You wonder who it is. He smiles right back at you though, some color seeming to fill his cheeks as he reaches out to take your hand.

You stop at the door and pull your hand away, your brows knitted together as you stare at him. “What are you doing?” you ask, showing him just how muddled you are. He tenses up at this, realization seeming to dawn on him.

“Oh, sorry. I just thought that since you knew how I felt that you…” he starts before trailing off, his face a dark color. You didn’t think that it was possible to be this lost.

“Thought that I what? Wanted to hold your hand after you just told me that you like someone else?” you ask for clarification. When you say this though, his jaw drops as he stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” is all he says back to you, continuing to just stare on and leaving you bewildered. He’s starting to look just as you feel though.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” you ask, wishing he would just spit out what he’s thinking. He suddenly sucks in a deep breath and can’t seem to make eye contact with you, his face darker than Kirishima’s hair.

“(Y/n), I, um…” he says clearly before mumbling things, making you sigh.

“What was that? You started mumbling and I couldn’t understand you.”

“I really, uh…” he tries again before just doing the same thing as before. At this point, you’re starting to get a little annoyed.

“Shinso, just say whatever it is you have to say,” you say as calmly as you can. He goes quiet, staring at your shoes instead of meeting your eyes. Instead of saying anything though, he tugs his backpack off and unzips it. He tugs out a stuffed animal and some candy, silently handing it to you with slightly shaky hands.

You slowly take it, wondering why he’s giving you this stuff. He doesn’t say anything to you though, leaving you in the dark about what’s happening. It takes a few seconds but it finally hits you what he’s trying to do.

He’s trying to confess.

And he’s failing miserably, but you find it so cute that you can’t help but smile. A blush comes across your face but with his head down, he can’t see your smile or blush. Deciding to tease him further, you drop the smile and bring out your best acting skills.

“What’s this? Do you want my opinion on whether to give it to the person you like or not?” you ask, it taking everything in you to not laugh or grin. You decide to head in now since the wind is picking up, leaving Shinso to wordlessly follow behind you.

“What? No! It’s…” he trails off again, a smile coming to your face since your back is to him. You look at the people sitting in the common area, shooting them a wink before turning to face Shinso again.

“It’s just what?” you ask, wanting him to think that you’re beyond confused. He sighs, starting to get angry. At himself, you’re assuming.

“It’s...I just...I want…” He starts before trying again, deciding to change his sentence over and over again. You can tell he’s attempting to find the courage to say the words that you want to hear but you can also tell that he’s scared of rejection.

You can see why though. All his life people have been scared of him and assumed that he was going to end up being a villain. All he’s ever been is rejected. That is until he came to class 1A and became friends with you and the others. You sigh and walk over to him, starting to feel bad for dragging this on for so long.

“Okay, we all get it. You’re in love with me. Can we kiss now?” you joke, shooting him a smile. He snaps his head up at you, his jaw hanging so far open that it’s practically touching the floor.

“You knew?” he asks confusedly before gasping and pointing at you, “You knew!” He glares at you now, a pout coming onto his lips. You giggle and walk over to him, cautiously wrapping your arms around his neck with a warm smile.

“It took me a while but I eventually figured it out. Now, where’s my kiss?” He huffs and tries to look mad at you but even he can’t deny the overwhelming joy he’s starting to feel. When his lips connect with yours, the people that are in the dorms start to cheer and wolf whistle, causing both of you to blush as you pull away.

“Take me on a date,” you command, a big smile on your face. He snorts a bit as he raises a brow at you, pulling away to gently take ahold of your hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask for me to take you on a date? Or better yet, why don’t you ask me on a date?” You scoff at his reply, starting to drag him right back the way you two came.

“In your dreams, lover boy,” you tease before giving him another quick kiss.

┍━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┑

MASTERLIST

1k Followers Event

More with MHA

Tag List: @nojammsss03 ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

┕━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┙

237 notes · View notes

peaxhcringe · 5 years ago

Text

Sunflower

pairing: Oikawa x Fem! Reader

genre: fluff, angst

warnings: n/a

word count: 2.5K

summary: Running out into the rain after an argument with Oikawa, only to end up in the park remembering the past.

A/N: I once again apologize if this is bad, I am very tired and wanted to hurry up and get this out. Anyways enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t know how it came to this. The rain hailing down against your shoulders soaking your already thin shirt, and with tears falling down your face. Your e/c eyes were closed tightly, the pounding of the rain and the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance filling your ears as you ran along the sidewalk, rain splashing up from small puddles to the bottom of your leggings soaking them. Your brain was fuzzy as your thoughts swirled like a whirlpool, everything becoming muddled together into indescribable pieces of memory. The wind blew harshly onto the exposed skin of your arms, goosebumps rising painfully onto your skin as you tried to rush for cover. The events of earlier were all jumbled, nothing making sense on how it came to this moreover what even caused this.

A sigh of relief crossed over you as finally saw an escape from the hailing rain, rushing over to a nearby wooden canopy. The rain was so thick you couldn’t really tell where you were, almost not allowing you to see more than 6 feet in front of you. Just as you made it underneath the dry canopy a sigh of relief lef your mouth as you finally sat down on a bench, letting you catch your breath from running for so long. Your moment of relief is rudely cut short as you hear the voice of the last person you want see fill your ears

“Y/n!”

“God damnit Y/n, I’m sorry!”

“Y/n just come back before you get sick!”

Tears threatened to fill your eyes as you took in his voice, hearing as it came closer to where you sat. Your body began to slowly shake as you took in the soaked clothes that rested against your skin.

“Y/n Whe- Y/n! there you are!” Oikawa’s voice rang in your ears, making your head shot up to see his drenched figure, his hair falling into his face as the rain poured down on him just as hard

“Go away” You said, not bothering to make eye contact with him “Just leave me alone, and go back to your ‘studying’” You continued, crossing your arms, letting your head rest back against the wall of canopy

Without another word Oikawa silently made his way over to you, sitting down next to you on the bench, letting his hands rest in his lap. There was silence between the both of you as neither of you wanted to be the first to speak, the tension growing thicker the silence lasted. A small chuckled filled the silence, a scowl crossing your face as you heard the laugh, your head quickly turning an staring at the brown haired man

“What the hell are you laughing at?!” You growled, glaring at him, your hands turning into fist as you took in his appearance further.

His head was tilted upwards towards the sky, his brown eyes closed, as he took in a deep breath. A simple smile was etched into his face, as a soft breeze blew letting a couple strands of his semi-dried hair dance around, a couple pieces just grazing against his forehead. If you were being honest with yourself, although he was a dick his side profile was rather breathtaking. Even though the tension between you two was quite heavy, his posture was amazingly relaxed, his chest rising and falling like normal and his hands resting casually against the bench as he leaned back onto the wall of the canopy. The more you took in his stance the angrier you got with him, not knowing how or why he was so calm after everything that happened.

“Do you know where we are?” He asks simply, breaking the thick silence, not moving an inch as he took in a deep breath of the rainy atmosphere

Your eyebrows raised in my confusion, lifting a hand about to hit him, as your mouth opened to scold him until he spoke again

“Just take a good look around”

You closed your mouth, letting your raised hand fall into your lap as you turned your head and took in where you were. When you first arrived in this place your vision was blurred by the heavy rain and dark clouds, but now as the rain began to fall into a soft drizzle and the sky opened up to allow the sun to shine through you finally took in your surroundings. Beautiful dark green grass covered the landscape for miles, a simple sidewalk weaving its way past a field of trees, and the sun now shining, glowed upon a small patch of sunflowers that rested upon a nearby hill.

Your body seemed to almost relax at the sight, watching as a couple birds flew past and landed in the grass searching for worms and things to build their nest for the upcoming spring. That was until you heard the man sitting next to you clear his throat, the anger that was finally leaving your body returned instantly, your blood beginning to boil once again

“We’re in a park! So what?” You asked, turning your head back towards him, noticing how his head was now titled down towards you the sun shining down against his face

“You really don’t remember?” He asks, a sense of hurt hidden within his voice

Your eyes rake over his face, taking in his stoic expression trying your best to figure out what he meant.

“Has it really been that long?” You hear him mumble to himself, his eyes taking a second to shift away from you and look down at the grass

“Y/n” Oikawa begins, his gaze now repositioned back upon your figure, taking in your soaked clothes and how your body had begun to shake a little harder “This was the place where we had our first date” He said, letting his head turn from yours and fall back against the wall behind the both of you

As he finished his sentence everything seemed to click in your mind, a smile almost crossing your face as you took yet another slow look around confirming what he said, the memory of your first date with this jerk of a man flashing through your mind.

“Tooru, why did you bring me here?” You ask with a small laugh, watching as the narcissistic team captain was pulling you along behind him, a child-like smile replacing his usual smirk

You stumbled along behind him, trying your best to not fall from the speed he ran, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist as he ran ahead of you.

“Just follow me, you’ll see, I know you’ll love it” He assured, turning his head and glancing behind him to look at you

You don’t know how he was able to convince you to take a spur of the moment trip to the park, but somehow he did. You told him you had to study for a big exam coming up, but nothing seemed to persuade him to let you stay home. Usually this scenario would be the completely different way around as Oikawa would always be too busy with volleyball to even give you a second glance, but today something was off.

Not long after school had let out and you made it home you had received a text from Oikawa telling you to get dressed and come outside, of course since you had to study you said ‘no’, but he didn’t take that as an answer. Within a minute you heard your front door open and footsteps shooting up to your room before the door was swung open, to reveal Oikawa standing tall in the door frame. After minutes of Oikawa begging you to come to the park with him you finally agreed, letting him take you away from your studies to go screw around at the park.

“Wait” He yelled suddenly, making you run into his back

“Hey! You could’ve warned me you were gonna stop” You said, as you stepped back from him, rubbing your forehead after your forehead smacked against his shoulder

As your hand left your face Oikawa quickly turned around and faced you, a smile on his face. As you looked around you noticed you were in the middle of a curve on the sidewalk, a bright vibrant sight hidden a little ways behind Oikawa. You stepped to the side a bit, trying to get a view of the sudden vibrant colors, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you

“Ah ah ah” Oikawa tuted, waving his pointer finger at you “Turn around” He said with a smile, and twirling his finger with the way he wanted you to turn

A chuckle left your lips as you smiled at him, before turning your back facing him. The feeling of his calloused hands placing themselves above your eyes, the warmth of his breath against your ear sent a jolt of electricity through your body as he speaks

“Now, no peeking little cutie”

With nod, you feel as his slowly turns your body back around, anticipation flooding you. Oikawa was always a man of surprises, he almost always seemed to have something up his sleeve when you were around. Ever since you both started dating he constantly would surprise you with flowers or even his jerseys before games, although the jerseys were more of a ‘you’re mine’ type thing you managed to find it sort of sweet.

“Can I open my eyes now?” You asked, with a smile, the anticipation eating you alive

“Someone's eager” He spoke into your ear, a chill shooting through your spine as his breath tickled your neck, a soft chuckle leaving his lips “We’re almost there” He assured, as you walked further down the path

The sound of your footsteps and bird chirping lighty sounded around the both of you, sending a sense of calm through your body.

“Alright, stop here” He spoke, slowly your down and making you stop right as there was a dip in the cement sidewalk

“Well?” You ask impatiently as Oikawa’s hand didn’t move an inch from your eyes

A small laugh left Oikawa, before he began to countdown from 3. He removed his hands from your eyes slowly, a gasp leaving your mouth as you took in the sight before you. A gorgeous sunflower field, almost covering the entire section of the park, stood in front of you. The sun beaming down brightly on the equally bright flowers.

“Tooru” You spoke softly, turning around to face your boyfriend “When did you find this?” You ask, letting your gaze go back to the field

“Well, I found some time after practice one day and ended up here, I thought you’d like it” He answered, a smile spreading across his face as he took in your expression

With a laugh, you turn from him and make your way towards the field. Just as you reach the flowers your glance over your shoulder to see Oikawa still standing in his spot

“Well are you going to come over here or what?” You ask with a laugh, holding out your hand towards him watching as a smile crosses his face

“Y-Yeah” He says, a blush crossing over his face as he quickly makes his way over to you and wraps one of his long arms around your waist

“Shall we?”

Your heart lurches in your chest as the memory floods your mind, an odd sense of warmth filling your body. You slowly lift your head up to face Oikawa, his eyes staring out towards the sunflower field not far from the both of you. You begin to think about what went wrong since then, what had made everything change only in a couple months. Taking in a deep breath, the scent of fresh rain still hanging heavily in the air, you fully turn your body towards him.

“Tooru” You begin softly, as your began to fiddle with your fingers that rested in your lap “I’m sorry for running out like” You apologize, watching as he turns his head towards you, a sympathetic look in his eyes

There’s yet another moment of silence before he finally speaks, a sigh leaving his mouth.

“No Y/n, I’m sorry for being like that. It isn’t your fault” He says, taking one of his hands and placing them on top of yours, ceasing the fiddling of your hands.

Your eyes met him just in time to notice his becoming glossy. Hesitantly, you reach a hand up towards his face as he turns from you,your soft hand cupping his cheek. A sense of guilt spreads through you as you notice tears starting to well in his eyes. Although he was the one who yelled at you and told you off for simply just trying to help every sense of anger you felt towards him began to fade. Without another word you scoot towards him, letting your legs cross over his lap as your arms wrap around his side, your head softly pressing against his shoulder.

You feel him tense as you move around, unsure of what you were about to do, but the moment your breath brushes against his exposed skin from his skirt his body relaxes. The soft breathing coming from the both of you fills the air as neither of you move to speak, not knowing what to say. You hated how most arguments ended this way, with one of you holding the other, letting you both just sit in each other’s company as everything seemed to just resolve itself silently.

Through the arguments you both have every now and then, and through the hard times you never fail to end up realizing how much you love the stubborn man in front of you.

“Come on let’s go home” You say lifting you head off his shoulder and looking up into he brown eyes

With a silent nod from Oikawa, you slowly move your legs off of his and stand in front of him, holding a hand out towards him waiting for him to stand in front of you. After what seemed like hours he finally stood, taking your hand in his and pulling you close to his side.

“You’re not off the hook yet” You mentioned with a small chuckle, as you both start to walk home “I’m just cold and want to get warm” You continue, glancing up at him to see a small smile on his face

“I’ll warm you up when we get home cutie” You hear him say, a smirk crossing his face as he looks down towards you, a sharp blush crossing you face instantly

“Tooru!!” You yell in shock, slapping his arm as he ran ahead of you a bit a laugh escaping from him

Your arms cross at you watching him turn his back to you, a laugh escaping from you a

“Wait for me!” You yell to him, as you rush towards him, noticing how far he’s gotten from you

#haikyuu #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #oikawa torū

154 notes · View notes

lyssismagical · 4 years ago

Text

would you be so kind (as to fall in love with me)

Flash knew he shouldn’t have thought what he did when he saw the nerdiest kid in school, but damn the boy was cute. With curly brown hair and doe brown eyes and the biggest heart and endless intelligence. It really wasn’t Flash’s fault for finding himself with a mild crush on his classmate.

He knew he was gay. He’d known for a very long time, but it’d been easy enough to keep a secret when he’d never seen someone that caught his eye. It’d been easy enough to pretend to think girls were attractive to him and that boys were just boys and not crushes.

But then, on a dreary autumn morning, he’d seen Peter Parker wearing a dorky outfit and thick glasses and carrying a stack of books in his arms, a ratty backpack slung loosely over his shoulders, and laughing at something his friend had said.

It really wasn’t Flash’s fault for his crush, he blames Peter entirely.

He wants to be Peter’s friend. He just hasn’t worked up the courage to talk to the boy in his AP Chemistry and English. He doesn’t know how.

But all of his long-distance pining comes to an end one day when his father picks him up after school.

He sees Peter sitting on the front steps of the school with Ned, a stack of books at his feet and glasses crooked on his nose, looking just as pretty as ever in the afternoon sunlight to Flash.

“Don’t cross paths with those kinds of people,” his father says. Flash hates the way he stresses Those Kinds like Peter is less than them.

Outside, Peter laughs, bright and innocent at something Ned says.

“Of course not,” Flash agrees because he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“What a fag,” his father mutters before they’re peeling out of the parking lot and away from the school.

Flash doesn’t know how to do anything but agree, shame filling him to the brim.

His father’s never hit him, has never laid a hand on him, but the way he shouts, the disappointment in his eyes when he sends Flash up to his room, the shame.

It feels worse than a punch would.

Something inside him snaps when he sees Peter one day, riddled with guilt over his hidden secret and angry because his father shouted at him for hours the night before.

He shoves Peter when they’re walking down the stairs out of school.

He’ll never forget the sad and confused expression from Peter, rubbing his bleeding palms and staring up at Flash, making Flash feel like he kicked a puppy.

But his father smiles at him when he gets into the car, congratulating him for putting the freak in his place.

Is it worth it? No, he shouldn’t be so selfish as to ruin another kid’s life just to get his father’s approval. That’s not who he is. But he doesn’t care. His mother will be home in just a few days and all hell will break loose.

He’s right, of course he was.

As soon as his mother arrives home, the shouting begins once again.

“I can smell the cologne on you!” his father shouts, grabbing his mother’s discarded jacket off the back of the couch. “You were seeing another man!”

“You’re just jealous because I’m the only woman who would ever be with you!” his mother screams back, ripping the jacket out of his hands. “And I didn’t sleep with anyone! I went to an office party!”

“Like I’d believe any of your lies,” his father snarls. “And for your information, I could get any woman I want! I saw somebody just a few weeks ago!”

There’s the echoing noise of shattering glass, probably his mother throwing another dish. “You saw another woman?! Probably some drunk twenty-something-year-old slut you dragged to bed in exchange for a couple hundred bucks, right? You don’t deserve me!”

“I don’t deserve you?! You don’t deserve anything!”

The shouting is endless. Almost always escalating to throwing things, slamming doors, and Flash cleaning up the mess left behind.

Flash knows he can’t take out his pent-up anger on Peter, but the last thing he needs right now is for his family to find out about his crush on the nerdy dork from his high school. The last thing he needs is for them to find out he’s gay.

No matter how much Flash tries, Peter won’t hate him. He won’t fight back. He won’t shout at him or call him out or punch him. He just takes all of it with so much ease. He’ll listen to the words Flash throws at him and he’ll pick his glasses up off the floor and wince at yet another crack in the lenses. But he never fights back.

And no matter how hard Flash tries, his crush on Peter won’t fade away like he hoped it would.

Every time he sees the dork in his AP Chemistry or in English, his heart skips a couple beats and his breath hitches because somehow, every single day, Peter manages to look wonderful and smart and nerdy and cute and beautiful. And every single day, Flash has to endure two hours of trying not to stare.

He took it too far.

He knew it would happen eventually.

Tired of all the fighting happening in his home, including his father going as far as inviting his new fling over to make Flash’s mother jealous which ended in Flash driving the woman home and his father to the hospital to stitch up his hand where a shard of plate had cut him open when his mother threw it.

He knew he’d be angrier than usual and he knew he’d take it out on Peter for looking so fucking pretty in spring colours, hair tousled and messy.

“Stop- please- I can’t-” Peter’s sitting on the floor, head between his knees as he tries to get his breathing under control. There are tears staining his flushed cheeks and his hands won’t stop shaking, nearly as badly as his shoulders when a sob is pulled from his throat.

Flash reaches out to comfort the teenager, but Peter flinches harshly away from the hand, nearly smacking his head into the lockers behind him, and Flash pulls his hand away like it was burned.

“I’m sorry- I’m- I’m sorry,” Flash tries, guilt welling up inside him like it always does.

He locked Peter in a locker. It was supposed to be just another thing, like he always does. Something to take the edge off his anger and to make his feelings a little less intense. But Peter had started to cry when he’d gotten the door closed. And by the time Flash was able to open the lock again, Peter had already fallen pretty deeply into a panic attack.

Ned’s sick and Peter doesn’t really have any other friends to Flash’s knowledge, so either Flash leaves him totally alone or he stays.

“I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know- I didn’t-” Flash tries again, hands hovering uselessly in the air between them as Peter continues to steady his breathing carefully.

“Go. Please. Just- I- I just- I can’t- Please go.”

That answers his question for him. Flash isn’t about to push more than he already has, so he apologizes a few more times as he backs out of the room.

“I can’t do this anymore!” Flash shouts over the chaos between his parents.

“This isn’t for you to deal with, Eugene,” his father spits, barely looking over at him.

His father’s never been anything but angry with him, so Flash might as well push it over the edge, right?

“I’m gay,” Flash says, clenching his jaw and fists, trying not to let the emotions show on his face. He repeats it, more confidently to their shocked and confused faces, “I’m gay.”

He touches the swollen, purple skin around his eye, wincing at the spike of pain. He dabs away the blood on his split lip, frowning at his reflection in the dark window of a closed shop.

His parents finally agreed on something. Flash can’t really count that as a win, considering now he’s wandering the streets of Queens by himself in the middle of the night, nowhere to go.

No home. No family. Nothing.

Just his own shame and guilt.

The tears start falling before he can think to stop them, slipping down his cheeks and mixing with the blood on his lip.

A squeal of tires catches his attention and a sleek, black car pulls up on the sidewalk beside him. His first thought is that he’s getting kidnapped or mugged or murdered, just to add the cherry on top of the godawful day.

But then Peter fucking Parker steps out of the car, eyes wide and worried, reaching out towards Flash.

“Are you okay? What happened to you?” the younger boy asks with the kind of wide-eyed innocence Flash would hate to ruin. “Were you jumped?”

Flash can’t help but roll his glassy eyes. After everything, Peter still cares. “It’s nothing, Peter.”

A smile somehow spreads across the younger boy’s face.

“You called me Peter,” he murmurs before quickly snapping out of it. “Do you need a ride home? You live nearby, don’t you?”

“No,” Flash says. “I don’t live anywhere.”

He tips his head to the side in confusion, bambi eyes wide with concern. “What do you mean?”

“I got kicked out,” Flash admits. He gestures to his face carelessly. “My father’s doing.”

Peter’s face falls and before Flash knows it, he’s being gently nudged into the black car.

There are two men sitting in the front seats. Flash is too tired to try to introduce himself so he lays his head against the cool window and finds solace in the warm fingers on his forearm, grounding him.

The car pulls away and soon, they’re parking outside a shabby apartment near the heart of Queens. Peter’s place probably.

“C’mon,” he says, voice warm and low. “You can have my bed for tonight, I’ll take the couch. We can figure out what to do in the morning.”

Peter gets out of the car, but before Flash has the mind to follow, the man in passenger turns around, revealing Tony Stark.

“Hey, kid,” Tony says softly. “Your dad did that to you?”

Flash nods wordlessly, touching his swollen eye with cold fingers.

The hero nods like this is just what he expected. “I don’t do the whole heart to heart thing, but I get it. My dad never said he loved me, never even said he liked me. I would take out my anger on the people around me and on myself. I hurt a lot of people before I realized I needed to break the cycle.”

“This was the first time,” Flash finds himself admitting. “He’s never hit me before.”

Tony offers a sympathetic smile. “What did you do? Forget to do the dishes? Failed a test?”

“Came out as gay.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and wrong.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“Me too.”

Flash sits down on the edge of Peter’s bed. His room is exactly how he imagined it to be. Nerdy and dorky and small.

“You can sleep here for tonight,” Peter says, collecting some extra blankets from the top shelf in his closet. Flash hates that he watches Peter’s shirt lift and show off his pale slender hips. “I’ll take the couch.”

Flash wants to say that it wouldn’t be fair, after Everything. But he’s too tired to argue.

Peter’s suddenly there, kneeling down in front of him, eyes wide and soft and brown like coffee, small warm hands on his knees, worry seeping out of him.

“Are you okay?”

How is Flash supposed to answer that?

He’s spent two years bullying the teenager in front of him to hide his own sexuality. He’s made the boy cry more times than he can count. He made him have a panic attack. How is any of that okay?

And yet, at the end of it all, Peter’s the only one here for him, the only one he has.

How is that okay?

Flash’s voice is hollow. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay too,” Peter murmurs. He moves away from the bed, back to the closet and pulls out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He pushes them into Flash’s hands and offers another one of his gentle smiles.

“I’m sorry-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Peter says, voice soft as ever, like a blanket settling over him. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Flash repeats. He needs Peter to understand the amount of guilt that’s filling him up and making him sick to his stomach. “I’m so fucking sorry and I- I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

“It’s okay,” Peter repeats, just as sincerely as before. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I just hope we can move on from that.”

Flash nods quickly, that’s the only thing he wants. He wants to forget about the past two years of hatred and fighting in favor of friendship.

“I’m gay,” Flash admits. He might as well. If Peter hates him for it, he might as well get it over with now. His head is murky and he’s tired. He doesn’t care about anything anymore.

But Peter smiles instead of all the other possibilities. “Hello, Gay. I’m Bi.”

And then he laughs, still quietly but full of so much life, Flash wishes he could have some of that life that Peter seems to have endless amounts of.

“Get some rest, Flash. Bathroom’s across the hall and I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

He’s never loved anyone, has never been loved before. His parents barely gave him a second thought, his friends are all just acquaintances, he’s only ever had one crush.

But he’s overcome right then and there, sitting in Peter’s bedroom and looking into Peter’s bambi eyes, that he loves him. He loves Peter Parker.

Walking into school, side by side with Peter, turns a lot of heads.

Flash is wearing Peter’s jeans and Peter’s shirt with a nerdy science pun written on the front and he smells like Peter’s shampoo and body wash, a mix of vanilla sugar and mango.

And Peter’s at his side, arms touching they’re walking so close together. The bruise on his eye is still there, still swollen, still a dark purple color, a reminder of what happened the night before.

But if he had to take a few punches to have the courage to apologize to Peter and to admit to himself that he loves him, then so what. He’d take a beating every day for the rest of his life if it means being allowed to walk the earth with Peter at his side.

“What are you doing?” Ned demands when they reach Peter’s locker.

Flash looks up, knowing he must look like shit, but Ned recognizes his jeans and shirt and the bruises on his face, and something must click.

“What happened?” he asks, a lot quieter. People seem to always want to talk to him quietly now.

“It’s nothing, Ned. Don’t worry about it,” Peter jumps in. “I’m going to go to the bathroom before class. I’ll be back in a few.”

The moment he’s turned the corner, Ned turns on him angrily.

“If you’re using him or if this is some fucking joke, I want you to back off right now. Peter’s too nice for his own good and he’s too naïve. So please, for the love of god, just leave him alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Flash says. He has a lot to apologize for, but he hopes this will be enough until he can get his thoughts straightened. “I don’t want to hurt him. I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing then? If you don’t want to hurt him, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Flash doesn’t know how to answer without outing himself. “I’m sorry.”

“You sound like Peter, jesus, I don’t want an apology. I just want to know why. Yesterday, you called him more names than I can count and you locked him in a locker. And now you’re best buds? I don’t get it. And Peter’s my best friend, so I need to know why.”

“I got kicked out,” Flash whispers, eyes dropping to the floor, watching Ned’s tapping shoes. “My parents kicked me out and he- he let me stay with him… I- I’m sorry about everything.”

Ned’s face falls. “Oh. Jeez, Flash, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s- It’s whatever. I just- I’m sorry.”

“Do you mean that? Are you really sorry or are you just sorry because you need him?”

There’s a long few tense moments of silence before Flash admits it, panic and desperation engulfing him. He just needs to say it.

“I love him,” Flash blurts. “I- I’m gay and I- I’ve liked him for a really long time. I just- my parents and I- I-”

“You don’t have to explain, Flash,” Ned mumbles. “I believe you. You’re an honorary part of our Losers Club. But if you fuck anything up, that’s it, okay? Peter would forgive you in a heartbeat, but I have to protect him.”

Flash nods. He understands. He’s been hurting him for years, it’s fair that nobody will trust him. He doesn’t even deserve this much from this, let alone genuine friendship from them.

“Thank you,” he says before adding another. “I’m sorry.”

He wonders if he’ll ever stop being sorry.

He doubts it.

Peter’s a great friend. He’s genuine and sweet and forgiving and he’s always making jokes and smiling. (And he just looks so pretty and beautiful, wide bambi-brown eyes sparkling, tousled curls- Flash can’t help himself from staring.)

Ned’s hesitant and he watches Flash watch Peter as the younger boy laughs and reads and talks and does his homework and smiles and answers all the questions in class.

It’s different and everyone stares, but Flash is too busy staring at Peter to really notice any of it.

Flash stays at Peter and May’s apartment while he tries to sort everything out. He can’t go back home, he tried to call his mother, but she didn’t even bother to pick up the phone let alone pathetically listen to him plead.

He doesn’t really have a lot of family he can rely on. His father doesn’t really have any family, all of them alienated from their rich lifestyle, and his mother has one stepsister who has dual citizenship in both Canada and the US while pursuing her acting career.

He’d somehow have to convince her to move to Queens just for him to stay somewhere until he can graduate and live by himself.

Peter says she’ll say yes, of course she will, but even if she doesn’t, it’s not as though he’ll be back on the streets again. He’s allowed to stay with the Parker’s for as long as he needs to.

He could never be more grateful for what they’ve done for him.

“Hey,” Flash starts, sitting anxiously on the edge of Peter’s bed. They’ve been taking turns on the bed and couch after it turned into a more long-term thing. “It’s, um, it’s Flash.”

“Flash?”

“Eugene,” he rephrases. “I go by Flash now.”

Tessa lets out a quiet laugh. “Don’t like the family name anymore?”

“I got kicked out,” Flash admits quietly. He knows this isn’t a good place to start, but Peter’s comforting and warm at his side, bambi-brown eyes a constant safe haven. “I came out as gay and they kicked me out.”

He’s found that the more he says it, the easier it is to say. He’s had one bad and one good experience. He doesn’t really care how Tessa reacts because either way, he has a place to stay here with Peter.

“Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. I thought my sister was better than that, but I guess not,” she says, an obvious eyeroll in her tone. “Your father, though, I didn’t expect much more than the worst. Do you need somewhere to stay? I’m in Toronto right now, but it’s only a few hours flight to get down to Queens.”

“Would you?” Flash asks, hating how pathetically young and small he sounds. Peter’s hand tightens in his.

“Yeah, of course, you shouldn’t have to go through something like this. That’s awful. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

Flash explains how he’s been staying with Peter for the past couple weeks and how he just needs someone a little more permanent, but that she can take her time since she’s moving her whole life just for him.

“I’ll get a flight down this weekend then, honey. No worries. I’ll let you know when I get there, okay? I love you, kiddo. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Tessa says. “I’ve gotta go to talk to my manager, but I’ll book flights as soon as everything’s settled.”

“Thank you,” Flash murmurs. “I love you too.”

When he hangs up, he wants to say it to Peter too, who’s sitting right next to him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, but he doesn’t. He settles for a simple thank you.

It felt like it was turning into an obsession.

I love you he’d think when Peter would get him breakfast before school.

I love you, on the tip of his tongue when Peter would smile and lean over to help him with their AP Chemistry homework.

I love you the only thing on his mind when Peter would laugh at his jokes and let him borrow his clothes and cover for him whenever his thoughts dragged him back to bed in the mornings before school.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-

He loves Peter Parker more than he can handle.

He meets Tony Stark for real the day before he’s supposed to be moving into his aunt’s new apartment which just so happens to be the building over from Peter’s.

Peter takes him to the tower to visit Tony who’s apparently been asking about him. It’s just for a few hours before he’s getting picked up by Tessa to start shopping for furniture.

“Hey, kiddos. It’s been a while since I’ve seen either of you,” Tony greets, sitting them down at the dining room table and opening up two boxes of pizza. “Everything going alright?”

“I’m moving in with aunt officially tomorrow,” Flash explains quietly, averting his eyes. Peter’s warm at his side, having dragged his chair a few inches over to sit shoulder to shoulder. “I couldn’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me-”

“I’ve said it a thousand times,” Peter says, softly and breath warm where it fans out against Flash’s shoulder when he turns his head. “You don’t need to thank me for this. It’s the least I could do.”

“I was awful to you.”

Peter shrugs like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t cried dozens of times because of Flash, like he hasn’t sported bruises Flash gave him, like Flash hasn’t caused panic attacks and breakdowns in the school hallways.

“You were trying to protect yourself; I understand why you did what you did. I did some pretty awful things after my uncle… And anyways, you’ve apologized, and I forgave you,” Peter says, offering a smile, looking pretty and eyes sparkling, so close to Flash, all he can think about is Peter’s warm breath and trusting bambi-brown eyes.

He wants to kiss him. He wants to say the words aloud.

I love you, he thinks. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Flash moves in with Tessa in the apartment across the alley from Peter.

They walk to and from school together, they hang out at Peter’s apartment after school, they go to Academic Decathlon together, they even hang out on weekends frequently.

And Peter with his sparkling wide bambi-brown eyes and his tousled curly hair and the biggest heart and endless intelligence, has all of Flash’s love.

Flash wouldn’t want it any other way.

I love you.

I love you too.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideyspeaches @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl101 @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames @you-did-it-sir {Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #irondad #peter parker #irondad fic #flash thompson #flash thompson/Peter parker #tony stark #Ned Leeds #spiderman #I wrote this a while ago but realized I only ever posted a link and not the story #tw abuse #tw violence #tw homophobia #tw internalized homophobia

58 notes · View notes

ziracona · 4 years ago

Text

[Fate Grand Order AU] The Kid pt: 1, ... 8, 9, 10,?

“Ready?”

We both nod. Ritsuka takes a very deep breath, and exhales slowly. I know she’s scared, and it’s no wonder. I would be too, if I was her; who wouldn’t be?

I’m not though.

Really, not at all. I’m doing what I want, and I’ve got the best non-master I’ve ever had with me, and an archer I trust. I’ve survived the impossible, and I’m heading in for revenge and some rescues with a good plan.

I’m feeling lucky.

“Once we’re in there, stay close to me,” says Emiya.

Ritsuka nods.

“I mean it. We’re going to be stretched thin once the fighting starts in earnest, and neither he nor I are going to be as capable as we usually are. That means we’re going to depend on you to keep up and keep your eyes open. I won’t be able to watch you the whole time, but if you stay by me, you’re not going to get hurt. I promise.”

I look over at Emiya. He sounds so intense, and sincere. I still haven’t figured this guy out, but I can tell he genuinely cares about the kid, if for no reason other than she is a kid, and a nice one. I believe him, because I can tell it’s important to him, and not because she’s his master. He wants to keep her safe.

I mean, who wouldn’t.

Ritsuka meets his gaze and gives a very serious nod.

Emiya returns it.

“Good,” says Emiya, “I know this is a lot for your first time, but we’ve got a plan, and you’ve got two servants watching your back. Don’t worry. We’ve got this.”

You know she’s scared too, I think, smiling a little to myself.

“Like he said,” I promise, and I give her a smile when she glances my way, “We’re gonna keep you safe, and we’re gonna save everyone in there. Just you watch, partner.”

She smiles back and gives another nod. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

This is some kind of sick joke.

Shit…

Where did they even get a nun? Where do you get someone for…for something like…this…

I’m not…not entirely sure this is happening at all. It happened before. But things look different. Feel different.

This. Didn’t…happen to me like this. It didn’t happen to me when I was a heroic spirit.

That’s about all I have energy to think about.

You forget, when it’s been long enough, that losing blood makes you nauseous. Why?

I don’t know.

I don’t know…

Wrists hurt, a little. They cut pretty deep—she cut pretty deep. Mostly I just want to vomit. I’ve wanted to vomit for days. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted that as a heroic spirit before.

It’s not an impulse I’m…s-still supposed to have.

There’s so much sweat soaked into everything, my hair’s gotten matted to my face and it makes it hard to see anymore. I can really only make out anything from my left eye now. So tired…

I wish it would just fucking be over. I’ve died before; I could die again. Instead I’m dying, for so long. So long.

Why?

What on earth is the point in all this?

It’s dark in this room. It’s always so fucking dim. I can see her just fine though.

She’s…she’s here all the time, it feels like. It must be more than one of them. It gets hard to remember, but, none of them look like my cousin did. I guess that must not matter.

Does to me though. Makes this whole thing feel like a joke. They didn’t quite do it right.

I wonder if it’s just that someone really hates me?

I’ve made my fair share of enemies, I’m sure. Can’t think of why else someone would set this up. They’re really taking their time if…

I zone out, or pass out. I’m rarely sure anymore. Consciousness comes and goes, but it comes more than I wish it did.

I’m so tired. I feel cold and hot at the same time, but mostly cold. Strange.

Losing blood, just feels weird. Disoriented, sick. Pain is better, pain you can focus on. This is like…being ill. You’re not all there.

For some reason it makes me angrier I’m on a bed.

I forget that part. Bolted down with several bands—I’ve tried to break them when I’m conscious enough to remember I should, but there’s some powerful antimagic on them, and whatever they’re made of, it’s meant to repel heroic spirits. I can’t do shit to them, not like this anyway. I can’t flee either. Tried that before I tried anything else.

Laid on a cot, bolted down to it, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding from wrists slit so deep. They never stop bleeding, and I never run out. I’m always just on the edge of it, just on the edge of having so little my brain has to shut down, just little enough I’m nauseous and cold and pouring sweat. It hurts, but not as much as dying should, and that makes it worse too. Someone’s hunted hard for the way I died, and recreated meticulously but not so meticulously as to make me think I’m important one of the worst things that was ever done to me, and to add insult to all that I’m dying slowing for days and days on a bed. Like there’s any point in pretending this isn’t as brutal as possible.

It’s funny it was one of the coins I gave her they used to summon me. Makes me furious. Of all the catalysts.

I guess someone was really proud of their poetic timing.

I tried, a couple times, to talk to the nun in here. She’s always nearby. Sometimes she comes over does something to the cuts on my wrists. I thought she was cutting deeper the first time, but she isn’t. She’s…play-acting. Like there’s any point to that, to any of this shit.

I tried talking.

I…

When did I get here?

It’s too much, trying to focus. I have to stop and clear my head because the nausea is too damn strong. Wait, breathe, try and stay calm, try and not pass out.

…I got here… Don’t know when. That’s okay. That’s okay. Who was there?

…

She was. One of them. Summoned me. I remember…being a little shocked, to see a nun dressed like that in this time. I should have been more suspicious. Used a seal on me. To…

…Lay down.

That’s right. Fucker. Of all the things. Not pass out, not stop moving, not ‘don’t resist.’ No. Go lay down. Go stick your own head under the guillotine.

Fucking mages.

Lay down. And ‘stay there’.

I remember…knowing it was bad when I got the first command. There’s nothing normal about being summoned into a small lab room with nothing but a chair and a bed in it. Magic resistance isn’t my forte, even as a knight class, but I tried. God, that hurts. I don’t think non-spirits have any fucking idea how much it hurts to try and resist a command spell. It feels like every atom of your body is being ripped apart by your attempt to pull away from it. It’s fucking excruciating.

But I’m not stupid, and I knew it was bad. So I tried. She ordered me again, same command. That’s right…. Right. And I couldn’t stop then.

Bottoming out, strange feeling, like I knew I was about to die. It felt, surreal… Always does, when someone who isn’t you is walking your body around with you still inside it.

Laid down. And she commanded me to stay there. I thought she’d be out then, but she had more than three somehow. I tried to resist that one too. The whole time she was fastening bolts in place over my limbs and throat and torso so I couldn’t move once the spells wore off, the whole time she was setting her fucking bowl up under my arms, and the whole time she was cutting into my arms.

…

She didn’t even do it fast. Just calm, and casual. Like it was any other job. Like she was…oiling a lamp or something.

When I realized there was no way I was going to make it out by resisting, I tried talking to her. I was afraid she’d order me to shut up too, but she didn’t. Didn’t seem to feel a need to.

I asked her what she was doing, what she wanted—why she was doing it. I tried pleading. It’s been a long time, but once the knives came out, and everything clicked as what it was, I did. I tried telling her she didn’t have to do this, I tried pleading with her to not, to stop. To tell me why.

She never even looked me in the face. Not like she was afraid to, either. Afraid to feel guilt. It was like it wasn’t worth her time.

There were others, after the first. I’ve tried talking to them all. I’m sure I’ve forgotten faces, and tried more than once.

Most of them don’t even look at me.

None of them ever even give me an answer.

No one’s even told me why I’m here.

I have no idea what they want. Why they’re doing this.

How long it’s been.

If it’ll ever end.

I’m so tired. I would give anything to be able to just vanish into the shadows right now and breathe again, for even five minutes.

Funny. Usually I try so hard not to spend too long thinking about my old life at all.

It’s hard, you know. I try not to think about that either, but normal people, they get afterlives, reincarnation, something. For us, going on after we die means we just don’t see the people we loved again. Even if we’re…unlucky enough they’re also made into a heroic spirit, we maybe cross paths once every 300 years, and then it’s with mages forcing us to take up our weapons and kill each other in some ritual we never cared about at all.

So I try not to think about them. Because I miss them.

Of course I do. We all do. And I don’t think I could stand thinking about that much.

God I hope they’re happy, and that they’re together, all of them, wherever they are now.

I hope Little John was okay. I hope Will didn’t blame himself, when I was the one who didn’t take his advice.

I hope they know I miss them.

I hope they understand why I try so hard not to think about them.

I love them way too much to let myself do that. I’d never be able to bear it.

But.

It’s so hard, like this. I try, but I can’t not think about that Priory in Kirklees. I can’t not think about the one person with me, or the people I left behind to get there.

…

I remember still. How sad he looked, when I asked him to bury me somewhere green. I knew he would do it, though.

I’ve never gotten to see my own grave. I went to look, once, but I know the place there’s a marker up isn’t the right one. Little John has a nice one, though. Under a yew tree. It suits him.

Please. I can’t.

I can’t.

I turn my head, slow, and find the woman dressed like a prioress from another time. She’s sitting in a chair nearby, sewing. God knows why.

There’s no reason to try again, but there’s no reason not to.

“Please,” I try. My voice started sounding hoarse days ago. Now it’s just…weak and dead. I know she can hear me though. She doesn’t acknowledge it, but there’s a little change in her posture, and I see it. Come on. What do you have to lose? Or to gain? “At least just tell me why I’m here. It can’t hurt to tell me that.”

This seems like the one I have the best chance with. Nobody who won’t tell me why they’ve been slowly killing me for days on end in the most fucked up way maybe possible is going to come free me.

Just like before though, she doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look my way.

…I think the bitch smiles. Why?

God damn it.

And then it’s just back to sewing. Like I’m not in the room.

Why. Why won’t you tell me? Why!

I give up. I turn my attention to the bars I’m under, and use every bit of strength I have to try and weaken the restraint bolting down my right hand, like I have every time I’ve tried this. Pretending I might somehow eventually chip away.

Like every other time, the only thing that happens to me is I pass out.

When I wake up again, and my weak vision focuses enough to see well, it’s another woman in the chair, but I recognize her. I’ve tried talking to her before too. How many of them are there in rotation, six?

Where did you come from? Why would you want to do this? What kind of job posting did you even answer to fucking walk in here like this?

Like she can sense me thinking, she turns and glances my way, sets her needlework aside, and stands.

Great.

Wish I’d stayed out, but, it’s a mind game, so of course she was waiting for me to wake up.

I consider trying to knock myself out again, but that would just postpone this, and I am later-me, so there doesn’t seem to be a point. I watch with numbed dread as she picks up a small knife from a little table by her chair and walks over.

“Still afraid to look me in the face while you do that?” I say, hoping to provoke any kind of a response. I don’t get one.

Of course. Figures.

She stoops by the bed and readies the knife carefully by the vein that is still very much bleeding and not even starting to coagulate in my left wrist. This is gonna hurt.

There’s a sound like a truck hitting a wall, and we both jolt and turn our heads to look towards it. There’s nothing there though—still just us in the room.

I listen, ears straining, desperate for any change to this endless fucking routine, and I hear…is that. …It can’t be gunfire? Can it?

But that’s what it sounds like. For just a second, but I could swear...

I don’t think the prioress actor can hear it, because she isn’t as alarmed as I’d think, hearing gunfire, but she’s definitely on edge after the crash. She stands up, knife still in hand, and gives the direction the thud came from a wary look.

Please be someone shooting the building up. Just come in here and put a bullet between my eyes and send me back to the throne—I’m begging you. Mercy kill me. Please.

Shit, that won’t work will it. Fuck—I have god damn catalysts. They’ll drag me right back with that coin.

Not if they’re all dead, though. I pray to God in my head that this is some mage-on-mage war breaking out and that might happen. I doubt I’ll be that lucky though—feels like a long time since my prayers were so miraculously answered.

I stop hearing what I thought was gunfire, and my heart sinks.

The fake prioress stands where she is a few more seconds, still wary, then seems to calm back down, and turns back to me again.

Shit.

There’s a smashing sound and sudden light from the far end of the room, and in the second I squint, trying to adjust to it, there’s a flash of intense motion that’s humanly impossible and something rams into the prioress’s face and sends her flying back so hard she dents the wall behind me, and I’m suddenly looking up in shock at the worried face of a heroic spirit I know.

No. I’m dreaming. There’s no way this is happening to me for real. I don’t have good luck of any kind. There’s-

“Robin!”

But that’s his voice. Sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Out of everyone in the world, somehow it’s one of the few heroic spirits I can call a real friend.

“Billy?” I manage in disbelief. Even with limited vision from one eye, it’s clearly him. Jacket and shirt bloody like he’s been shot, but acting completely fine, colt in his hand—Oh my God.

“In here!” calls Billy over his shoulder, then he’s beside me in a heartbeat, taking in the scene for a split second before immediately going for the restraints.

“Wait, don’t-“ I try to warn him, but I’m too late, and he yelps in pain and snags his hand back shaking it reflexively. “Anti-spirit enchantment,” I explain sympathetically.

“Damn it,” says Billy, still shaking his hand, “Okay—hang on—Ritsuka!”

The name is delivered over his shoulder, and I turn to look and see two more figures. There’s a taller spirit whose form I find vaguely familiar, even though I can’t see him well, standing by the door. Lookout, I think. And then a smaller person—a girl, a kid, running towards us.

A…Not a spirit—a mage?

Must be.

Doesn’t smell like one though. Just smells like a human.

When she gets close enough to see me, she skids to a momentary stop and her eyes go wide with horror and she looks sick, but before Billy even has to prompt her, she’s moving forward again, and she makes it to me out of breath in only another second, casting Billy a worried look.

“I can’t open them,” explains Billy quickly, gesturing to the restraints, “I could try and blow them off, but that’ll be loud, and it’ll be a—”

“—I-I got it,” she interrupts, “But how do I—” She stops and stares at the bolts holding me down and furrows her brow, then gives Billy a confused look like this is some kind of trap. “But they’re not locked?”

“Was mine?” asks Billy.

His? …Oh no. Oh Billy, I’m so sorry. I try and remember how he died. I think it was a shit death.

“Yours was different—I mean, it was sort of locked, but it was all hooked up to a computer. This is just…a little twist lock, like a door bolt,” answers the girl.

“Doesn’t matter,” says Billy, “He can’t touch it.”

“Oh—Oh right!” she says, realization in her face, and then she’s turning the locks on the bolts and tugging them up and off me as fast as she can. She does the one Billy had indicated, my left wrist, first, but then she gets the one on my neck, and something about that makes me like her. It’s not the most practical choice, but it was the most distressing one, and I like what that says about her priorities.

“Hi, uh—” she hesitates to give the fake prioress a kind of worried grimace, then looks back at me as she goes, “Y-you’re gonna be okay, okay?”

“—Robin Hood,” adds Billy for her with a nod. Her eyes widen.

“Robin Hood?”

That’s nice. Still surprises me when someone reacts to my name like they just heard ‘King Arthur’. Who’d have thought?

“R-Robin Hood,” she says again, nervously turning back to me and trying to give a reassuring smile as she unlocks restraints, “We’re here to help. We’re going to rescue you and all the other heroic spirits trapped here.”

‘Other’? God, I wonder how many more of us there are… I’m working hard to think fast about what those words might mean.

She gets the fourth bolt and something happens and I suddenly feel overwhelmingly sick, and my vision goes black and I’m gone.

I’m not sure how long it’s been when I come back. My head is throbbing and my body feels weak and drained, and I’m so terrified that this scenario I can vaguely remember is some fever dream and it’s just going to be me and that woman in this room, but when I open my eyes, there’s two blurry figures above me, and one silhouette is blonde and the other a redhead, and in the six seconds it takes for my sight to focus that makes me hopeful.

“Robin?”

Billy’s voice, and I can tell from his tone he’s called my name several times. I vaguely register pressure on my shoulder, gentle. He’s…worried about me…

“Yeah,” I slur a little, but I get out.

“Crap,” whispers the girl, who looks pale as a ghost now, “Robin?” she tentatively asks louder, “This thing they have you in, I think it’s what’s giving you enough mana to stay alive, and if I remove it-“

“-I’ll die,” I answer unevenly, filling in the blanks.

“Will you form a contract with me?” she asks worriedly, glancing at her hand, and then holding it out towards me like an invitation. “I-I promise I’m only here to help, so you can stay grounded a-“

“Absolutely,” I croak out, weakly slinging my bleeding left hand up as high as I can get it, “I accept your offer. Let’s do this.”

She looks kind of shocked.

“You’re with Billy. Who I trust,” I explain slowly with what energy I have left, and I see Billy smile out of the corner of my eye, “So I know I can trust you. And honestly, kid, I’d take anything over this shit right now. It really can’t get worse let’s do this.”

I meet her gaze, and she still seems a little taken aback, but relieved too, or happy, and she gives me a fervent nod and takes my hand in hers very gently, careful of the wound on my wrist, then places her right hand on top.

“My soul becomes your will; your spirit becomes my destiny. If you accept this contract with me, then answer my call,” promises the girl unlike any way I’ve heard a mage offer a contract to me before. I feel more like I’m being promised something than asked to sign a contract suddenly, and it’s an odd feeling. But a welcome one. “and bind to me; Archer!”

I look her in the eyes and say, “I accept your contract,” and there’s a flash of red light from her hand and I feel the connection take root and suddenly I’m getting a little stream of mana I wasn’t before, and my head feels clearer than it has since the moment I was summoned.

When I look back up, the kid is watching me worriedly, but she must see something good in my reaction, because she smiles at me and sets my arm down gently, then goes back to speed-ripping the restraints off. She’s down to like, ankles and one leg when she goes, “OH CRAP!” and pops back up into my view, since I sure as hell haven’t felt like trying to sit up yet, and whips around to face me.

“I-I’m so sorry—I’ll get those in a second, but let me—”

She’s going for my wrist, and I’m confused for a millisecond, then I get it and relax, and let her lift my arm. The kid does it gently, supporting my weight with her right hand and carefully placing her left over the wound, and she shuts her eyes and scrunches her face up in concentration, and I feel a faint pulse of mana, and the pain in wrist fades to almost nothing.

Pausing for a quick glance at her work and seeming relieved by it, the kid sets my arm down and does the same thing with the other. She’s sweating now, and looks a little shaky, but if she’s somehow supporting both Billy and me at the same time, it’s really no wonder her mana’s kind of tapped out. Actually it’s a wonder she’s signed on two servants. –she has, right?

Wait—shit. I forgot the one at the door. That’s impossible though, right? No normal mage has the mana for that, let alone a kid, and I don’t think we’re in a holy grail war right now or something. He must be contracted to someone else?

Finished, the girl goes back to freeing the last few restraints, and Billy kneels by me and tugs some fabric out of a pocket and takes my wrist himself. It’s not bleeding anymore, but the cut’s still there, which is about how it felt, so I’m not very surprised to see remnants of a wound. Billy begins wrapping the incisions for me, and I keep still while they both work. I know I’m gonna have to stand up in a minute, and I’m gonna need whatever energy I can get.

“So,” I say with a tired smile, watching Billy as he wraps the cut.

“So,” he echoes, grinning at me, “Surprised I swung in to rescue you? –Well, we swung in?”

“I mean, yeah,” I answer, “Completely. I can’t even pretend not to be.”

His grin widens.

“…Did you pistol whip that prioress into the wall?” I ask after a second, trying to keep the smile twitching at the edge of my lips from becoming real.

Billy glances over at where she landed with a bit of a grimace, then glances back at me and says, “Well, she was about to cut into you with a knife.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” I say, and I’m sure damn well not.

“She-she’s still breathing, right?” asks the mage kid worriedly, hearing us.

Billy glances over at the body again.

Huh. I guess the kid is trying to avoid fatalities. She must be his master too, the way she’s talking to him, and he’s acting, so she is supporting two. A little odd for a mage to be so soft, but I guess she is pretty young. Kind of nice. I guess. Though I really wouldn’t mind if that bitch was dead… Still, probably for the best.

“Yeah, she’s breathing,” confirms Billy before turning back to me, “Don’t worry—I definitely broke some bones, but she’s alive.”

“Oh good,” says the girl in relief.

“Didn’t know your precision gun skills extended to pistol-whipping,” I comment with a smile.

“Hey, they extend to everything,” promises Billy warmly. God it’s good to see him again.

“Why are you here?” I ask, glancing from him to the girl.

“Short version? She happened to see me in about the same spot you are, intervened, and we decided to take the whole place down, like you do,” says Billy happily as he finishes tying off the second bandage, “Archer at the door is Emiya—she summoned him to help us.”

‘Emiya’? I know that name—I remember him. Not sure where—maybe a summoning I lost memories of, but…I don’t have a bad feeling attached, so that’s a good sign. He’s another archer, isn’t he? Huh, what are the odddd----wait!

“She’s contracted to three servants?” I ask in disbelief as Billy slides a hand behind my back and starts to help me up.

“Oh she’s gonna be contracted to at least six before the night’s up,” says Billy.

I gape at the girl.

“I uh, I have weird mana,” she manages in a weak voice, turning red, “I mean a weird amount.”

“Yup, which works great for us! She’s not got much training, so we’re all gonna be running a little thin on mana,” says Billy. I make it to my feet and he lets go, keeping his arms up in case I fall, and I’m unsteady on my own, but I manage to stay standing. “Downside? No noble phantasms for anyone but me, and we all gotta be careful to stay material. Upside? She’s the only mage maybe on the planet who could walk through here and contract to six servants alone.”

“Well, it sounds like we got the better end of that deal,” I say, taking that in and giving my new master a curious once-over. Now that I’m thinking clearer, I see I was right. She’s young—maybe sixteen, seventeen? Japanese. Down a command spell, too.

“Oh, I didn’t introduce myself again,” she says, chagrined, and then offers me a hand, “Robin—i-is it okay if I—?”

“You can call me that,” I affirm with a weak smile.

“Thanks,” says the girl, smiling back warmly, and I’m struck again by just how young she is. It’s not like I’ve really had time to think…any of this through, but. She’s here, saving me. Saved Billy, apparently. She saw what was going on with me, God knows what she saw happening to him, and still, she’s here, stalwartly sticking it out. Just a kid.

I know that’s not right, and a part of me feels guilt suddenly, like somehow it’s my fault she’s here and in danger and in over her head, but it’s not, and I know that. I’m lucky she came here for whatever her reasons are, and I’m damn lucky she’s helping me, and all I can do about it is stick by this new master and keep her safe in thanks.

“Robin, I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru—you can call me Ritsuka,” she adds, offering a hand for a handshake. I take it.

“Nice to meet you Ritsuka,” I say, “Thanks for the rescue. I owe you big; just tell me what you need, and I’m yours, Master.”

Her eyes widen a little and her expression changes to distressed. Hm?

“Oh, please—just Ritsuka,” she says, “You aren’t my servant, and I’m not here to be your master either. I just want to be your ally. I-I mean, you’re Robin Hood.”

I blink, surprised. “You don’t want to be called that?”

“I don’t want to be that,” she says, flushing a little, “I know technically you contracted to me, but I promise I won’t try to force you to do anything. I don’t want to be your master; just your friend.”

That might be the sweetest thing someone has said to me in the last hundred years, and it’s some kid I’ve only just met who’s got no earthly reason at all to be helping me. Something about her in that moment reminds me of Will, something about the intense fervency and the delivery of such a dramatic statement with so much genuine meaning and complete sincerity you can’t help but find it impossible to mock. It makes me like her.

“Well okay then,” I say, “If that’s how you want it. You’re very generous, Ritsuka.”

She beams like that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to her in the last 300 years, and I see Billy watching like a proud parent or something, matching grin on his face.

“Okay, great! We better get moving. We’ve mostly been able to sneak so far, so keep it down, but they definitely know something is up. Come on!” says Ritsuka, turning back towards the door and hurrying off, waving me and Billy after her. Billy lets her get a little lead and then slides an arm around my back and helps me towards the door.

“Really somethin’, huh?” asks Billy very proudly now that she’s not in hearing distance.

“You really god damn lucked out, didn’t you Bill?” I reply, giving him a weak grin.

“Oh, more than I maybe ever have before,” he agrees readily, “Told you my prayers get answered.”

I smile. “Guess they do.” We’re quiet for a second as we catch up to the others at the door. I’m feeling better and better by the second, stronger. Should be able to walk on my own in less than a minute. I’m not getting a ton of mana from the kid up there, but it’s enough I’m healing at a decent speed.

I glance over at Billy once we’re about to them. He looks like he always has. Proud, happy, relaxed, sharp, young and full of potential and hopes and dreams. A more real happy than I’ve seen him look in a long time, but with it, I can see some very recent shadows lingering. I don’t know exactly what he’s been through, but I know it was like the hell I’ve been in the last few days, and that’s enough.

“Hey Bill,” I say quietly, and he glances over expectantly, “Thank you, for coming for me.”

He smiles. “’Course. What are friends for?”

“Saving each others’ asses,” I agree with a tired smile.

“Saving each others’ asses,” he echoes, pleased.

It’s familiar.

I’ve got no real idea what the plan here is, or what my next hour is going to look like, or even if I’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving it, but I feel hopeful. We’ve been in some dire straights together before, and made it out.

Besides, I already got quite a miracle tonight; what’s one more?

“Emiya, Robin,” says Ritsuka proudly, motioning from the tall archer, to me, and back, “Robin, Emiya.”

Emiya gives me a nod. He’s familiar as hell, and I see recognition in his eyes I think, but I just can’t god damn place him. I’m right, I can tell—it’s a summon I’ve lost memories from, god damn it. I fucking hate that. I don’t sense any animosity from him though, and I’m not getting any misgivings, so I figure we were at least completely neutral towards each other whenever we met, and that’s a good sign, all things considered. I nod back.

“So,” I say, glancing out into the hall curiously now that I’m there, “Rescue mission, right? For several more of us? We got an actual plan, or we just winging this?”

“Plan,” says Ritsuka like she’s a little surprised and hurt I think she would come here without one.

“Yes,” agrees Emiya, giving me a once-over before returning his attention to the hallway outside, “We’re getting as many of us as fast as possible, because at a power disadvantage, we can use the numbers. And the next step is going to be one floor up, six doors down.”

“Any idea who it is?” asks Billy.

This is the most I’ve seen of the place I’ve been stuck. I barely had time when I got summoned to register the fucking time period, let alone anything about my surroundings. It’s some kind of multi-story building though, modern, security everywhere. Right now, there are alarms blaring, but they don’t sound focused on this level. They must have created one hell of a diversion before coming in—probably the crash I heard earlier. There are about ten unconscious guards in my line of sight up and down the hall; I’m genuinely amazed I can sense them all breathing. I guess Billy was serious about the kid wanting them to hold back. That’s going to be a huge pain with us all fighting weak and wounded, but I guess it’s unavoidable, and I’m not in a position to look a gift horse in the mouth anyway.

“No,” says Emiya, “I don’t recognize the energy signature, and from Ritsuka’s description of the catalysts she saw—if we’re limited to them—could be a large number of spirits.”

Billy gives a nod, adjusts his hat, and casually slings open the barrel of his gun and reloads it without looking away from Emiya. “Well then, let’s go find out.”

“Fast, preferably,” I agree. I don’t care if it’s the most god damn annoying spirit I’ve ever met up there. None of us deserves to be trapped like this another second.

“Okay, keep quiet, stay close,” says Emiya, moving out into the hall.

Okay, I think, watching Ritsuka hurry into the hall after him. Billy gives me a look asking if I’m okay to walk, and I nod and he lets me go and together we step out after them. Alarms blaring, unfamiliar territory, one familiar person, and God knows what in store. Still, I think, keenly aware of the now very faint throb in my wrists. What a comfort relief is. Unlike any other sensation I’ve ever known. Not really anything new, is it? These kinds of odds.

I glance over at Billy. He’s excited and focused, gun ready, eyes bright. It puts me at ease to see it. He’s always like this in a tight spot, but then, he’s about the best spirit I’ve ever known to be stuck in a foxhole with.

I’m sad for just a moment, remembering other people it was good to be pinned down with. Thinking about the worry on his face when he got to my side, and how it’s not the first time a friend looked down in horror and grief at me bleeding out like that. All these things I try never to think of.

But you’d like him, Little John, I think to myself, cheering up a little at the things I know he’d say, He’s a ruffian and an outlaw and a loyal friend, and you’d like him right away—faster even than I did. I know it’s true; I know them both so well by now. He’d be glad there was someone taking up his place, when he couldn’t be here. It’s such a rare thing, for one of us to make a close friend once we’re sent to the throne.

Part of me wonders for a second if he’s why. It’s been a long time since my prayers were answered, but I wonder if my best friend prayed for it enough he got it.

We pick up the pace, and I hear people ahead and summon my crossbow, preparing to fight. I see knives appear in Emiya’s hands and Billy pull back the hammer on his colt in the same instant.

Probably not, I think, closing my eyes and letting myself smile in the one moment before we round the corner on a fight.

But maybe.

Which is a thought worth holding on to.

#fate grand order #fate go #the kid (fic)#the kid #fate go au #fgo au #fate fic #fate au fic #fate go au fic #Billy the Kid #Ritsuka Fujimaru #Archer Emiya #Robin Hood #writing #fgo #fun fact: this was the first segment to make me tear up hells yeah #love u Robin

6 notes · View notes

severetimetravelnerd · 5 years ago

Text

Let’s stitch this up (ft. G Dragon)

Jiyong draws the line.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

Taglist:

@unabashedturkeytreeslime

@happiestgirlontheeastcoast

@kwonnansi

Word count : 3343

If there is anyone else who would like to be tagged, you can comment or leave me a message :))

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know immediately.

I know it’s been a while, but I hope you enjoy this one :))

Features appearances from OC Mirae and Kwon Dami.

Warnings: Angst, cursing, surgery (Appendectomy)

————————————————————————–

You sighed as you looked down at the counter, face slightly pale, thinking back to your doctor’s visit earlier today. You were scared. You had never had surgery before and you didn’t know an appendectomy was an emergency procedure. You shuddered lightly before groaning, putting your face in your hands. It was early, but you had had a long day. You just wanted to hit the bed and get a good night’s sleep, but the only problem with that was you wanted to discuss your health with your boyfriend Jiyong, but he wasn’t home yet. He was working and, on some nights, he would go out for a drink, and get late. You were just about to change into your pajamas and lightly complain about him not being home to yourself when you heard the front door open. Through all your worry, you felt a light smile spread across your face. Jiyong was home. You just needed a little comforting, and no one was as good at comforting you as Jiyong. You walked towards the front door, smiling and wrapping your arms around him.

“Hi Ji. How was your day?”

You were more than surprised when he shrugged you off harshly and turned around looking furious. You took a few steps back, shocked at his reaction. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he said very sarcastically,

“I don’t know Y/N. You tell me.”

Your eyebrows shot up, too shocked to say anything. He rolled his eyes and started off.

“Why did you ditch my sister, Y/N? You know how important she is to me. Even if you don’t like her, just be civil to her! Why can’t you even do that?”

Your face furrowed up in confusion.

“What? Jiyong, no. I love your sister. I didn’t ditch her. What happened-”

Jiyong got even angrier.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Y/N. Don’t lie to me. Why did my sister call me asking where you went?”

He paused to glare at you. Running his fingers through his hair, he said,

“All you had to do was have lunch with her Y/N. Why was that so hard?”

You were on the verge of tears. You had a long day. You didn’t ditch his sister. Halfway through lunch, your stomach began hurting furiously, so you apologised for leaving and left for the hospital, where you got diagnosed with appendicitis and had your surgery fixed. You were scared, you were in pain and you didn’t mean to hurt his sister’s feelings.

“Ji, sweetheart, listen to me. That’s not-”

You paused when you saw the look of sheer disbelief on his face. He rolled his eyes again and scoffed. His voice furiously low, he said,

“Oh, come on. Don’t give me that crap. You know you crossed the line here.”

You could hear this ringing in your ears and you felt your gut twist a little. You voice soft, you asked,

“There’s a line?”

He snapped.

“Of course, there’s a line Y/N. This is my family we’re talking about.”

Your voice was still deadly quiet, so much so that he couldn’t hear the small break in your voice when you said,

“And I’m not?”

And when he didn’t reply, you knew you were both on different pages.

You stood there, frozen in shock, trying to comprehend everything that was happening, but Jiyong sighed and said,

“I’m going to go talk to my sister and fix this.”

And he left. Just like that, he left you. You knew what you had to do. You knew you needed to end the relationship. If Jiyong drew a line and never considered you his family, then you were both worlds apart when it came to where you wanted things to go. You wanted nothing more than to start a family with him, but this wasn’t right. He didn’t even let you tell him what actually happened. He didn’t notice that you were sick and in pain. You scoffed. Wow, what a day. You didn’t want to dwell on what happened too much, so you went to pack your stuff for the hospital. You could ask your best friend Mirae to pack up the rest of your stuff later. She was super busy with work, so you couldn’t ask her to stay with you for the surgery and while you were in the hospital, but you also knew she would kill you if you didn’t tell her about this. So, you called her. She answered on the third ring with a groan.

“Oh my god Y/N. Get some sleep!”

Normally, you would have had a snarky comeback ready, but you didn’t have it in you.

“Hey.”

Immediately, Mirae was more alert.

“What’s up? You okay?”

And that’s when it all came rushing back to you. You choked on a sob.

“No, no I’m not.”

Mirae, perpetually ready with sarcastic comebacks, could only say,

“Oh honey, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Do you want to stay on the call with me?”

You managed to get out a muffled no, telling her to focus on her driving and to be safe, opting instead to just let yourself cry for a while. You didn’t even realise when Mirae got there until she slowly hugged you and pulled you up from the floor.

Mirae patiently waited until you finished crying and calmed down before asking you what happened. She also waited patiently until you were done and didn’t even say anything. She just hugged you and helped you relax. When she finally spoke, she said,

“Listen, Y/N. I’m always going to be here for you. No matter how busy I am with work. I can’t believe you weren’t planning on telling me about the surgery. I’m going to cancel my flight to Japan right now and then we can go to the hospital.”

Oh no. You couldn’t make Mirae miss out on the huge project she so painstakingly planned over three months. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head.

“No, Mirae. You have to go. Your flight is only in the night. My surgery is in the morning. You can wait for that and make sure I’m okay and still make it in time.”

Mirae eyes lit up, because the project meant a lot to her, but she still sounded a little unsure.

“Y/N, but what about moving all your stuff out of here? And staying with you in the hospital?”

You shook your head.

“You’ll only be gone for twenty-hour hours. I’ll be in the hospital for three days after my surgery. That’s plenty of time to get all of my stuff from here. And I’ll be fine staying in the hospital alone. It’s not a big deal. You’ll be there for the scariest part, the surgery.”

“Y/N, are you sure?”

Hiding just how scared you were, you nodded.

“Yup. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Jiyong groaned as he slammed his car door shut. He was irritated by you, but he was angrier at himself for having said those things. He just hadn’t realised it yet. He walked into his sister’s house, not realising it was late. She jumped up from the couch, nearly spilling her hot chocolate.

“Oh my god Jiyong. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Jiyong couldn’t stop pacing.

“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to apologise for Y/N. I don’t know what got into her. I’m so sorry she ditched you.”

Dami looked very confused.

“What’re you talking about?”

Jiyong couldn’t help the eye roll he let out.

“You told me on the phone earlier today that she left halfway through lunch.”

Dami groaned.

“You cut the call before I could finish talking, didn’t you? Jiyong, she didn’t ditch me. She apologised so many times for having to leave. And I didn’t call you because I was mad. I called because it looked like she left because she wasn’t feeling well, and I think I heard her ask the taxi driver to take her to the hospital. I called because I was worried about her. It looked pretty bad. She was so pale and tired.”

Jiyong froze for a minute, slowly trying to process everything Dami just told him. He suddenly looked up, eyes widening.

“Fuck.”

“What have you done?”

But Jiyong left before she could complete that sentence. Jiyong was so frustrated. Why was he so mean? Why did he have to do that? Were you okay? He didn’t remember what he said. He just knew that he hurt you.

“Fuck Jiyong. What did you say to her?”

He got back to your apartment at around 5 am the next morning. It was a really long drive. And he walked in, heart sinking when he didn’t see you on the couch. Usually, when the two of you fought, both of you would wait for the other to calm down and talk things out on that very couch. Well, he had fucked up very, very badly. Jiyong nervously wrung his hands as he walked closer to the bedroom. “

Y/N, love, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I said and why I said it. I’m so sorry for taking everything out on you. I heard you aren’t feeling well. What’s wrong, love?”

There was no response from you. The panic in him rising, he opened the door to your shared bedroom and when he saw you weren’t there, he felt his heart stop for a minute.

After his brain started working again, he rushed to check whether you had taken your things with you. You couldn’t leave him.

“Please, god, let her things be there”

was the only thing he could mutter to himself over and over again as he checked your closet. What he found just confused him further. Most of your stuff was there, but your favourite hoodie, that you wore nearly every day, was gone. he was just about to try calling you for the millionth time when he heard the front door open. He rushed out, hoping you were back, but he only saw Mirae walking in. His heart sank again, but he knew she would know where you were.

“Mirae, where is she?”

Mirae gave him a sympathetic smile before saying,

“I’m not telling you.”

“What?! Mirae please.”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

She shot him a pitying look.

“I’m here to start packing up her stuff.”

Jiyong just fell to the floor, in shock.

“A-are you saying she’s leaving me?”

“Yes.”

“Mirae, no. Please just tell me where she is. I need to talk to her. I need to apologise. We can fix this.”

Mirae sighed before turning to face Jiyong.

“Look. I’m mad at you for the way you treated her, but I told her that I think she should talk to you first. That she shouldn’t just leave. That if nothing else, she needs closure. But she refused. And she told me she doesn’t want you knowing anything about where she is. So, while I don’t think she’s doing the right thing, as her friend, I will do everything she wants me to. I’m sorry.”

Jiyong didn’t get up from the floor. He couldn’t. he couldn’t stop thinking about losing the relationship that finally felt right. Mirae started packing and left, but he was still there, on the floor, head in his hands.

2 months later

Jiyong was in the supermarket. It was 2 am, and he desperately wanted those snacks he tried a while ago. At least, that’s what he came there for. Somehow, he found himself in the wine aisle.

“Ah, should I get one more? “Fuck it, let’s buy it. Just another night of having sad grocery store wine and falling asleep on the couch crying.”

He was about to reach out to pick the wine bottle when he felt someone else also reach for it. He jumped back, apologising immediately.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise- Y/N?”

You froze like that, but then quickly pulled your arm back down. In your cropped hoodie, he would have been able to see the scar from your surgery if you waited too long. You were too late though. His eyes were wide and his voice was serious when he said,

“Y/N, what was that?”

You looked away, refusing to answer. His voice rang a little louder.

“Y/N, please. What was that? Did you get surgery?”

You sighed, not wanting to talk to him. You managed to cut him out of your life, but you weren’t over him. In fact, you were very much in love with him and wanted a bottle of wine to get drunk and rant your woes out to Mirae. You didn’t want to talk to him and spiral again. He reached for your hand, only for you to back away. Jiyong’s eyes were hurt when you looked up. You gave in.

“Fine. I guess I owe you that. We can go back to your place for a bit.”

He winced when you said that. His voice was obviously pained when he said,

“Our place Y/N. That’s home.”

You missed him too. You didn’t want to do this either, but what you had wasn’t a good relationship. You forced yourself to sigh and look bored.

“Jiyong, it’s been two months since I left. We’re done.”

His face fell and he could only whisper,

“Y/N, please don’t just write us off yet.”

You remained silent. You didn’t have it in you to lie and tell those trusting eyes that you didn’t love him when you clearly did.

The car ride back was silent. Jiyong was driving and you were staring out of the window, thinking about how you were going to manage to pull this off. As soon as Jiyong shut the door behind you, you were about to turn around and say,

“Listen, Jiyong, I can’t do this. We can’t be together.”

But you never got around to that, because Jiyong’s hand gently brushed against your hip, feeling for your scar.

“Did it hurt?”

You gasped lightly when you felt his hands on you after so long. Only Jiyong could make you feel that way. Although you wanted to let your knees cave and let him hold you, you didn’t. You tried to stay strong. You reached around to grab his hand, but you couldn’t throw his hands off you. You didn’t have it in you. All you could manage was a pained whisper.

“Jiyong, please don’t.”

Jiyong’s thumb lightly brushed over your scar again before turning you around to face him, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, love. I ‘m sorry I wasn’t there for you throughout all of this. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry I took out my frustrations on you.”

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped you then. That was all you wanted during the surgery. You were scared and you just wanted your boyfriend there.

“I know you’re hurt. I know I said some horrible things. But can we please try talking about this? I can’t lose you.”

You took a deep breath and tried to gather your thoughts.

“Jiyong, I can’t do this again. You made it very clear that you didn’t think I was as important as your family. Which is fine. It really is. But I can’t be in a relationship like that, because if things are already like this, the family I start with you will also never be as important to you.”

Jiyong looked taken aback.

“Y/N, what did I say that would make you think that? Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s not what I meant. At all. I want a family with you. And you are important to me. You’re the most important person to me.”

You couldn’t help the small stray tear the slipped out when you said,

“That’s not what you said then Jiyong.”

He held your hand, trying to look into your eyes.

“Y/N, love, I know this is going to sound bad, but I don’t remember what I said to you that night.”

You laughed. A biting, hurt laughter.

“You said all those horrible things and you don’t even remember them? Wow, guess that makes it clear how much I mean to you then.”

He winced, but persevered.

“Y/N, that’s not what it is and you know it. You know I love you. And I really am sorry I hurt you. I hate myself for that. But you know the reason I don’t remember anything is because I didn’t mean a word of it. You know I remember things that I mean. I was being an asshole, not listening to everything that happened and trying to pick a fight with you. But can you please tell me what I said? I want to know so that I can apologise properly.”

The two of you sat on the couch in silence for a while, you sipping on the cup of tea he made you while he waited nervously. You finally started.

“You told me I crossed a line when I ditched your sister.”

His eyes widened.

“And I was hurt, so I asked you whether there is a line I can’t cross, and you said that they’re family. I asked you whether I wasn’t family and you never responded. You just left for your sister’s place.”

Jiyong looked shocked beyond measure.

“Love, I’m so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean any of it. You’re my number one priority and I want a family with you too.”

His voice turned small.

“I wanted to propose, but I didn’t because I didn’t think you wanted to get married and I didn’t want to put any pressure on you.”

You sighed, looking at him for the first time, and continued.

“I ditched her because the pain got too much for me and I had to go to the hospital. They told me I had to get an appendectomy done the very next day. I was terrified. I wanted nothing more than your unconditional love and support, but you left me alone. Mirae was there for me, and I know she always will be, but where were you when I needed you? You never let me tell you what happened. You never listened. Jiyong. Why shouldn’t I break up with you?”

You wanted to hear his reason, whether he’d be able to find one, because deep down, you wanted him to. Jiyong moved a little closer to you.

“Well Y/N, for starters, we both still love each other. I never stopped caring about you. And I was not there for you when you needed me, and believe me, I regret it. But it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I didn’t know. My fault again, but I want you to know that I care. I will change. I will be more careful about the things I say, and I will definitely never snap at you for no reason again. But I know I love you and I want you to be my home. I want us to start a family together. I know you used to want that. And I think it’s tough to find love like that in the world. So, please. Let’s give us another shot.”

You looked into his eyes and you knew he was being earnest. You still hadn’t forgiven him completely but those small glitches could be worked out in a while. You gave him a very light smile before saying,

“Well, marriage and family is a bit much for now, but let’s try and work this out and see where we go, hmm?”

And before you could put your cup of now cold tea down, Jiyong roughly pulled you onto him, kissing you deeply as though starved. Your tea had spilt all over the two of you and Jiyong ended up pushing a book off the couch by accident, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the smile on both your faces as you wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back, letting him sink back into the couch.

#kpop scenarios #g dragon scenarios #kpop angst #g dragon angst #bigbang scenarios #kpop fluff #when you're sick #when he doesn't listen #kpop #angst #fluff #g dragon

61 notes · View notes

songofsoma · 5 years ago

Text

Her Pale Knight

Hi so I read a scene of dark Nate on @seraphinitegames‘s patreon and I wanted to do my own version but with Ava because you know...I’m gay.

This scene contains dark themes so just a forewarning <3

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles pairing: ava du mortain / detective cecilia beck w|w, femme, trauma

There was an eerie silence that settled over the warehouse that evening. Cecilia couldn’t help but find it a bit unnerving. Usually, when she was visiting the Agency, a member from Unit Bravo or her mother would always be by her side to enjoy a rare few moments to visit with one another—but there was hardly anyone roaming the halls. She had become accustomed to all sorts of supernaturals flitting around the corridors, never failing to give her a kind smile as they passed—one she was delighted to return. She suspected why there was a clear absence of life. The blood bags were to be distributed that afternoon. The subject of feeding seemed to be a touchy topic to Unit Bravo. None of them were comfortable with talking about it, so she left it alone as much as she could. In fact, when Ava told her that they would be given their blood bags, she looked ashamed, unable to meet her gaze. Cecilia had tried to lighten her mood by cracking a joke. “So…do you say compliments to the chef afterward? Or is that considered unethical?” Ava didn’t even crack a smile. It had the opposite effect as she flinched at the word “unethical.” A shame because Farah would’ve loved that one. The vampire had turned to leave without another word until Cecilia caught her hand at the last second. “You know this doesn’t change the way I think of you, right?” She had asked her in a warm tone. “It should.” Ava looked away, gently tugging her hand from Cecilia’s turning to leave the room. This time, Cecilia let her go. It had been hours since that encounter, but her head was still swimming in a sea of Ava. One would think being alive for almost a millennium, she wouldn’t be so ashamed of the core of her very nature. Or perhaps, that was the reason why she felt so. There was still so much Cecilia didn’t know about her life. The most she had been told was from the mirror at the carnival. Ava’s hair was long then, her pale braid stained with blood as was her armor. Even in the midst of battle, she was beautiful, but that cold-hearted smile sent chills down her spine as she killed those who got in her way. All of that information was given unwillingly, she wasn’t even sure if Ava knew that she had gotten a glimpse into her bloody past. She was sure she could sit and listen to Ava talk for hours, but she knew that was only a situation that would play out in her daydreams—in between the stolen kisses and declarations of love that also plagued her thoughts, of course. Cecilia dropped her head into her hands with a groan. Why had she fallen in love with such a stubborn woman? If only Ava would just let her peek over the walls she had built around her feelings, Cecilia knew she could make her happy. And there was nothing more she wanted then to see her happy. In the distance, she heard the strike of bells as another hour rolled around. She had debated on going home, but a selfish piece of her wanted to stay in hopes of seeing her pale knight once more. “Cecilia,” her name purred from Ava’s lips, causing Cecilia to practically jump out of her skin. When had Ava gotten here? It was as if she materialized from her thoughts. Cecilia stood from the couch she was sitting on in the living area. “Ava, I didn’t hear you come in.” She cringed at the tone of her own voice. Something about her wasn’t right. There was a look in her eyes that made her stomach churn with uneasiness which was odd since Ava was who she found herself to feel safest with. Carefully, she began to round the sofa to stand in front of the vampire, even though every inch of her body was screaming at her to run the other direction. Ava smiled and it made her blood turned to ice. It was that same grin from the mirror—right before she executed her victim. “Are you okay?” Cecilia asked, hesitantly placing a hand on her forearm. The skin was unusually warm, a direct contradiction to her typical coolness. “Are you sick?” Ava captured her thin wrist in the prison of her grip, squeezing hard enough to draw a yelp of pain from Cecilia’s lips. “Ava, please—” she cried out, desperately trying to pull away. Amused, Ava let go of her, watching as Cecilia began to scramble backward. “Isn’t this what you want?” Her voice was low and dangerous, poison dripping from every syllable which drooled on to the floor in hopes she might slip into the trap. She began to grow closer. “Isn’t this what you dream of?” She pushed her against the wall forcefully, the back of Cecilia’s head smacking against the concrete brick. Her world spun as she tried to regain focus. But Ava’s body was pressed up against her own now, pinning her in place. “I know you think about me and the things I could do to you.” Ava’s slender finger trailed down Cecilia’s cheek, her fingernail scratching the skin towards the end. “I feel the way your pulse quickens, how you’re breathing changes, the heat of your body.” Her face was directly in front of Cecilia’s now, the light glinting off of her sharp canines as her lips twisted into an imposter of a smile. Cecilia, blinking rapidly, trying to get her world to stay steady blindly pushed at Ava, trying to get her away. This only seemed to entertain her more as both Cecilia’s wrists became prisoners pressed against the wall. “Humans are always so silly,” she chuckled. “Always thinking they can run.” Her nostrils flared as she spoke. “But you can’t. You are too weak. Poor helpless, little human.” Tears surfaced as painful memories of Murphy flooded her mind. The way she was restrained, the helpless feeling, the primal fear running through her veins. But in that situation, Ava had come and saved her. Now, Ava was the one she was fighting against. “Ava, please stop,” Cecilia whimpered. She only laughed and leaned forward, licking the tears from her cheeks mockingly. “Poor little detective thought you were so tough going against big bad Murphy. You haven’t seen real power, Detective.” Her face moved away from hers to move down to the bare skin of her neck. Cecilia didn’t fight back anymore. She was too tired. This was certainly not the way she imagined Ava’s mouth to taste her skin for the first time. She shouldn’t have waited. She should’ve gone home. “You really have no idea what kind of power lays just beneath your skin.” Ava ran her teeth over her throat, pausing over where Murphy had torn her skin open all those months ago. “Do you know how hard it is to be around you? To know the sweet scent of power but not be allowed to touch it. Though I must admit, the forbidden nature of it will make it sweeter than one could ever imagine.” “This isn’t you!” Cecilia sobbed. But it was cut short when Ava’s hand moved to close around her throat instead, beginning to squeeze. “Oh, on the contrary,” she sneered. The edges of Cecilia’s vision were beginning to blacken from lack of air. “This is the monster I really am!” She barred her fangs, ready to go for the kill until the doors busted open with such force, she was sure they were off the hinges. Ava’s hand was torn away from her throat. Cecilia’s knees buckled as she collapsed into a heap on the floor. What was happening? All she could hear was Ava’s angry roars that drowned out a second and third voice. “Cecilia, get up!” Morgan. The girl’s arms enveloped protectively as Cecilia came to. Over Morgan’s black-clad shoulder, she could see that Ava had been pinned down with by both Nat and Farah. She couldn’t recall a time where Nat had looked angrier, even Farah looked ready to tear Ava’s head off. “We can’t hold her for much longer!” Nat yelled, struggling to hold Ava’s burly figure down. “Get her to Agent Beck!” Without a second thought, Morgan scooped Cecilia up tore from the room. “What happened?” Cecilia managed to mumble, her eyelids feeling heavy. Morgan didn’t answer for a brief second. “Poisoned blood.” She said, barely caught by Cecilia as she lost consciousness.

***

The moment Ava’s eyes snapped open she knew something was horribly wrong. Her head pounded as she made the poor attempt to sit up but was groaned when she realized she was unable to. Her wrists and ankles had been restrained. Furrowing her brows, she tried to take in her surroundings, calculating the clues to tell her where she was. Four familiar grey walls, simple wood furniture, a basket of laundry that had yet to be folded. The only thing that was out of place was the fact that she wasn’t alone and the ties binding her to her bed. She was in her room. Surrounded by her friends wearing masks of different emotions. What had happened? Nat stood the closest to the bed. She looked worse for wear with tired eyes and disheveled clothing. Farah mimicked her appearance, both looked stricken with worry. Morgan hovered at the foot of the bed, her face matching that of Agent Becks—anger. Her head was spinning trying to recall what had happened. She remembered being provided the blood bag, but the events after were hazy as if she was trying to recall a dream that had already begun to slip from her memory. “Ava?” Nat called out quietly, taking another step towards the bed. “Why am I tied down?” Her voice was hoarse. How long had she been like this? Nat and Morgan began to free her, following a silent command. As she pushed herself up finally, her head spun. Rebecca stepped into her line of vision. Her eyes were rimmed with red like she had been crying. There were only a few things that Ava could think of that would draw such a reaction—Cecilia. It happened all at once. The memories slammed against her skull making her cringe. It had been like she wasn’t in control of herself like she had been watching on a screen. Her voice taunting Cecilia. Her hand wrapped around Cecilia’s throat. Her grin as she watched as the light was running from Cecilia’s eyes. Oh, those eyes. Her doe-eyed gaze that usually looked upon Ava with warm affection had turned to terror as she begged her to stop. Ava was frozen as she remembered, guilt and anger taking over every inch of her body. “Cecilia?” Ava managed to gasp, Gentle hands rested on her shoulder as Nat tried to comfort her. “She’s okay, she’s being tended to.” “Some of the blood bags given to the Agency were poisoned,” Agent Beck interrupted, pulling Ava’s attention towards her. “We only realized after you were gone.” She was struggling to keep her tone even. Farah leaned back on her heels, trying to smooth down her crumpled shirt. “It took both Nat and me to hold you down. Let’s not do that again,” she tried to lighten the mood but was met with a fierce glare from both Rebecca and Morgan. “Farah, Morgan, will you please go check on Cecilia?” Nat intervened, squeezing Ava’s shoulder. “Let us know if she’s awake, please.” Had she been alone all this time? Just as they were leaving, someone popped their head in, gesturing for Rebecca. With a heavy sigh, she nodded. “We will talk later, Ava.” She said as she began to leave. But she paused before exiting the room. “I know I shouldn’t blame you, but I find it hard not to.” And then it was just her and Nat. It was like Ava had been slapped across the face. She couldn’t blame her. Cecilia was her only child and Ava had put her life at risk by her own hand. Out of all the centuries, she had walked the Earth, she had never hated herself more than now. How could she have hurt someone so kind? Someone who she loved cared for. Someone Ava had sworn to protect. How many times would she fail Cecilia? One time, she was going to be too late to save her. Ava sat on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands. “Don’t lie to me, how bad was it?” Her words were muffled. The bed dipped beside her large form as Nat sat next to her. “When we finally figured out where you were, we came in and she was pinned against the wall, your hand around her throat.” Nat blew out a long breath. Ava shuddered as the scene appeared at the forefront of her mind once more. “It wasn’t your fault, Ava,” Nat murmured, wrapping an arm around her broad shoulders to try and comfort her. “Tell that to Cecilia,” she snapped venomously, shaking off her friend by getting to her feet shakily. “Do you know she’s still traumatized from the incident with Murphy? She tries to hide it, but I can see it in her eyes.” Nat listened quietly, not knowing what to say. “She’s told me about it before because she trusted me. She was afraid of being weak, afraid of not deserving her place here,” Ava choked up as she continued. “I’ve ruined it, Natalie.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks as a heavy feeling settled in her chest. Her heart was broken—she had taken Cecilia’s affection for granted. Now, it was ruined because of her own weakness. Ava dropped to her knees, ignoring the splintering pain as they hit the hard floor. Her hands were flush against the wood as she knelt on all fours, unable to hold herself up. And she cried. Deep, heavy sobs erupted from her chest that shook her entire body. Nat knelt beside her, knowing it was best not to say anything, but to just let her know she was there. “It wasn’t you, Ava,” she finally whispered, tucking a loose hair behind Ava’s ear. Ava ripped herself away from Nat, struggling to her feet. She paced the length of the room, not bothering to wipe away her tears. “You don’t know that, Natalie,” she yelled, pausing to stare at where Nat still sat. “Cecilia was the only thing in all these years that made begin to think that I wasn’t truly a monster and look what happened!” The fury had been building and now needed to find an outlet. Turning, Ava’s fist slammed into the side of her dresser causing it to splinter beneath the force. She needed to get out of this room, she needed to breathe. Without another word, Ava threw open the door hard enough to rip it off its hinges as she stormed out of the room, refusing to look back as she left.

***

Between the steady, irritating beep of the machine monitoring her vitals and the horrible dreamed plaguing her mind, Cecilia was ripped from sleep. Her head was cloudy from whatever medicine they must have dosed her with, but she could still vividly remember the face in her nightmares. Usually Murphy haunted her subconscious. The knowledge that he was still at large taunted her, not to mention the events that took place the last time they came face to face. It had traumatized her. Now a new face had haunted her dreams, one that had been so sweet and welcomed before. Pale green eyes, colder than ice, and words that pierced her ears. “Isn’t this what you want?” Immediately, Cecilia desperately searched for the bedpan resting on the floor before violently retching the contents of her stomach. She still hung halfway off the bed as the door to the room opened, tears tickling her skin once more. Cecilia hardly heard them enter. All she could think about was Ava’s tongue on her cheeks, making her sob harder as she lapped at her pain like a starved dog. "Oh, Cece.” Nat choked out, immediately flocking to the side of the bed. She had snatched a towel on her way over to gently wipe off Cecilia’s mouth before helping her back up. Everything hurt. Her neck where Ava had choked her. Her head from being slammed against the wall. But the worst pain was from her heart that had been broken in more ways than one. Cecilia didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to after taking one look at Nat’s face. Instead, Nat pulled her into a hug, letting Cecilia sob into her chest as she ran her fingers through her knotted, dark hair. “I’m sorry we weren’t there sooner,” Nat sounded as if she was in tears as well. “We thought at first she was having a bad reaction and was going to rest, not whatever that was.” Cecilia hugged her friend tighter, beginning to recall what Morgan had told her. “The blood bags were poisoned?” She asked as she pulled away just enough to see her face. She had been correct that Nat had been crying as well, a look of regret in her eyes. She nodded. “We realized that too late. Cecilia, I am so sorry.” “How is Ava?” Cecilia asked after a long moment to let the information begin to sink in. “She’s back to normal now, but—,” Nat cut herself off. “But, what?” With a heavy sigh, Nat leaned back, wiping away her stray tears. “Of all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen that woman cry until now.” Cecilia looked away, not able to think about it, her heart was already broken enough. “Can I please go home?” She whispered. Nat looked at her in understanding. “I’ll go get Elidor.” “Will you please get my mom?” Her voice cracked and she feared she might cry again. “Of course, Cecilia. Can I get you anything at all?” She shook her head, just wanting the maternal comfort of her mother’s hug. “Thank you, Nat.” In return, she was given a tight smile as Nat held back more tears. She sniffed, looking at her feet. “If you need anything at all, please call me. I will brave modern technology for you.” That managed to make her smile slightly. “Thanks, Nat.”

66 notes · View notes

bouwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 5

She’s been chasing an answer, a sign lost in the abyss.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

Nothing can prepare Marinette for what she sees in the dead of night, after being awoken by unclear yelling.

It’s frightening, being woken in the middle of the night by shouting, but Marinette hears Jon’s voice and she figures he can probably handle whatever it is. Still, even if she’s tired, she has to help him. She’s not a hero anymore, but she’s not about to leave her roommate to fight off an intruder alone – if that is what’s happening. Jon’s just a college student, after all, and she still has Tikki to fall back on.

She slips her earrings in but doesn’t want to assume the worst. There’s indistinct yelling, yes, but no crashes or thuds to indicate fighting, so she’s hoping whoever Jon is talking to is someone he knows. She really hopes so. She really doesn’t want to have to fight.

So, she creeps out of her room, moving towards the living room. “Jon?” She calls softly, sleepily. “Wha-?” She’s rounding the corner and sees Jon’s broad back before- Thunk! She jumps an inch back towards the hallway and find herself staring at a wickedly pointed… throwing knife? But double-sided? No… the shape… A batarang. Lodged in her wall.

She casts her glare out to the boys in the room. The one in a ridiculous costume has his leg bandaged, and there’s a towel from the kitchen on the coffee table, red with blood. Jon is pale, staring at Marinette like she’s a ghost. The heroic intruder (who cut a hole in her window?!) is just scowling at her. She scowls right back.

“Never mind.” She says before either of the boys decide to try something. Whatever they’re up to, it’s clearly hero business. And that means it’s none of hers. “I don’t want to know.”

There’s a leaden ball in her guts when she turns away. It’s cold in her core and it weighs her down, making every step back to her room more and more difficult. It takes up too much space inside her, limiting her breathing.

Marinette closes her door and sinks down to the floor. What the hell just happened? Jon is…

No. Don’t think about it. It doesn’t matter what Jon is. It’s none of your business. It’s not your problem.

“Marinette…” Tikki says gently. “You shouldn’t have walked out like that. You need to talk to Jon so he can expla-”

“I don’t want the explanation!” Marinette hisses. “If Jon is- If he is- then what did I come here for? What did I leave my whole life behind for?!” Marinette tugs hard on her hair. “I don’t want to hear it. I can’t hear him say it. Tikki, I can’t. Just when I thought I could have a normal life. Just when I thought…”

“Don’t you think that’s unfair?”

“What unfair,” Marinette growls, “is that I moved all the way to America to avoid heroes. I broke up with Adrien to put all this behind me. And my roommate, my friend, my- the one person I felt most normal with is… That’s what’s unfair.”

There’s an expected rapping at the door, but it’s softer than Marinette assumes it will be. It’s timid and careful and Jon’s voice is even more so. “Marinette?”

“I don’t want to know, Jon!” She says. The lead in her gut turns molten, boiling her inside out in the most painful way possible.

When he tries again, it’s impossible to miss how hurt he sounds. How small and scared he sounds. It’s a punch in the stomach when she hears it, but somehow it only makes her angrier, even as she hurts for him in addition to herself. “Marinette? At least let me explain.”

She can’t. She can’t let him explain because then he’ll say everything she can’t bear to hear. “I said I don’t want to know!” She wrenches the door open, hoping that looking him in the eyes when she says it will scare him off. So that he won’t keep trying. So she doesn’t have to keep fighting to stop him from breaking what little remains of her already fragile sense of home and normality. “I don’t care why he was here. I don’t care how you know him. I don’t want to know. Whatever your business is with heroes, I don’t want anything to do with it. Understand? Leave me out of it.”

Jon looks like she’s just slapped him. She can’t look at him looking like that. It hurts too much. So, she slams the door.

Months of her life. The six-year relationship she cut off for this. A country an ocean away from her home. All of it, everything she’s been building, it’s all falling down. One night and her whole life collapses. That’s what’s unfair.

“Marinette!” Tikki scolds. “Don’t shut him out! You won’t move past this if you don-”

“I’m sorry, Tikki.” Marinette rips the earrings out and replaces them in their box and tucks the box away deep in her closet. Safe, but nowhere she’s going to stumble across it. The last thing she needs right now is a lecture from a freaking kwami.

She just wishes and wishes and wishes, as if a wish ardent enough can magically erase tonight. She wishes for one thing in her life to just be normal.

“Morning, Marinette.” Jon’s voice is hesitant in a way it never has been before. It makes Marinette flinch. It’s not his fault. The sensible and kind part of her says. He’s not responsible for your hero issues.

She spares him a glance, opens her mouth to try to say something, but nothing comes out. Her throat closes up at the sight of him. No matter what she knows is true about the situation, her heart screams “Betrayal” and the image of him and that hero is seared into her skull.

A life an ocean away from Paris and it’s superheroes. Abandoning her duties as guardian, pawning them off on Adrien before dumping him, all to get away from heroes. All of that, and heroes still find her in her own home.

It flays her alive. It digs into her flesh and hurts, but deep down it makes her so, so angry. Everything she’s given up. Home, family, the love of her life, and the very thing she sacrificed so much to avoid worms its way into the one place she thought she was safe. The one person she trusted. And ladybugs are supposed to be lucky. What a joke.

She doesn’t look at Jon. She can’t bear to. She can’t allow him to speak what she knows now into reality, but she also can’t stand to look at the way her rejection hurts him. It would have hurt her, if anyone she told hated her for being Ladybug. If Alya had turned on her for keeping that secret, rather than shriek with joy, if Adrien doubted his love for even one moment, instead of reinvigorating it, it would have torn Marinette apart.

That she’s doing this now is… but she just can’t face him. How is she supposed to face him? How is she supposed to let him explain how he’s a hero and how everything Marinette has done for the past six months has been pointless?

It’s frightening, and Marinette is no hero. She’s not brave enough to face it.

Jon takes off his shoes now. It’s a silly thing to notice, but then it’s hard not to with the bright yellow sticky note in their hallway saying, “Shoes, Jon!” Sometimes, he doesn’t even make it past the bend in the hallway before he remembers to change his shoes when he comes home.

Not that Marinette sees him come home much. Usually, she’s the one coming in late. It’s just easier this way, studying in the library or speaking with tutors or using school resources to work on a project until there’s nothing left for her to do but sleep. That way she doesn’t have to stand in such small quarters with him and pretend he’s not there. Pretend there’s nothing wrong.

Jon gives up, somewhere along the line. Too many times he reaches out to her and is slapped away and now he cradles that hand, once outstretched to her, nursing the bite she leaves.

It’s unfair. There’s nothing fair about this. Not the way she’s treating him, not the way he reminds her of everything she’s terrified of, not the way he closes off to her, not the way they keep maintaining this façade of living together when they don’t speak for weeks. Not the way she loses another friend, maybe one of her most cherished (because he’s a friend she’s found something more valuable in than she can imagine – safety, home, warm quilts and cold ice cream and Disney movies in the dark), to the same thing she has already sacrificed the rest of her life to.

Jon is supposed to be the thing she can keep. He’s supposed to be her new home, her normal, but he’s a ghost of her old one haunting her. He tears away everything she thought she built, but it’s not his fault and it’s so unfair that she still blames him. It’s unfair that she can’t get over this.

She stares at the ornamental box holding Tikki’s earrings. She digs it out of her closet on occasion, when it’s hardest to keep moving forward. More often as the days pass by. Tikki always helps her. The sage advice of an ageless god is usually pretty sound, after all. Yet Marinette makes no move to open the box. The thought makes her sick. To willingly subject herself to that again. Not Tikki, Marinette loves Tikki, but everything Tikki represents. The cage that closes in on her. The responsibility she’s still ignoring, the people she’s a world away from, all the obligations and duties from a life she thought she was managing to leave behind her.

If she opens that box, if she asks for Tikki’s help, she’s erecting that cage once more. She’s shackling herself back to everything she’s trying to escape from, and then fixing things with Jon won’t matter because either way she’s trapped.

Marinette feels stuck between a rock and a hard place and both forces are crushing her between them. She’s in pain, she’s confused, and even if she’s not a hero anymore, and even if she has people she trusts with her life, and even if she can’t bring herself to even look at Jon, she knows what being a hero is like. She knows how important it is. So, she refuses to tell anyone about it.

Everyone notices she’s off. They know her, so of course, they do. Adrien tries to coax her to open up when Alya’s interrogation doesn’t work, but Marinette won’t risk Jon’s identity that way, not even with Alya or Adrien or her parents. She won’t tell them about Jon’s connection to heroism, or even the facts of the night that starts all this. She won’t give them a hint of even what little she knows for certain. She’s stays mum. Even if Alya and Adrien are trustworthy, she refuses to be that person she was always so scared of when she was a hero herself. She refuses to give anyone, regardless of her own opinion of them, even a chance of connecting Jon to heroes in any way if he’s not okay with it.

And while she’s satisfied with that, it does mean that she’s all alone.

And it sucks.

In hindsight, she should expect the grades she gets on her midterms. She doesn’t, but she should. Despite the late nights studying or working or just busying herself, she’s never really present when she does any of it, so it makes sense that her grades plummet.

Hell, she barely remembers taking the tests in the first place.

But she stares at the numbers written atop her test and doesn’t truly read them, anyway. She feels numb. If her grades keep going this way, that’s just another thing that will end this whole endeavor of hers. Another thing that’ll shove her back in that cage.

But… even without a cage, is a bird truly free if its wings are clipped? What’s the point of tearing down the bars if she still can’t fly? Maybe she should go back to Paris. Maybe she should be Ladybug again. Maybe this whole idea was a mistake. Maybe she just isn’t meant to be happy.

“You promised Adrien.” Some tiny part of her reminds her. “You promised you’d do whatever it takes to be happy.”

I tried. I’m trying my best.

“Are you a liar? Are you going to break your promise?”

I don’t think I have a choice.

“There’s always a solution. There’s always a choice.”

Marinette curls into a ball, trying to shut out what sense remains in her. Maybe if she can, she can be happy in ignorance. Maybe if she can get rid of the Ladybug part of her for real, the part that refuses to let her give up, she can find home somewhere else and not give Jon or this apartment another thought. That’s what she wants to do.

It’s not what’s right, though. And with all she’s sacrificed, with all she’s given up, with how she’s hurt the people she loves following this path, hurt Adrien, she owes it to herself and everyone to follow through.

Even now, I can’t stop being a hero. She thinks bitterly. For Adrien. You promised him you’d be happy.

Jon doesn’t pay her any more mind than she does him. That is to say, he stares at her in silence on occasion, on the rare chance they’re together long enough to do so, but he doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything. Their finals are rapidly approaching, as is the end of their lease. They’re going to have to get ahold of themselves if they want to pass their classes, and one way or another they’re going to have to decide if they’re going to stay together next year or if this is goodbye.

Marinette honestly doesn’t know which option she wants.

Someone is going to have to break the silence, and… she is the one that started it. Is it a heroic thing to do, to speak through silence so deafening? It feels like it. It burns her. But it has to happen.

“Jon…” Marinette hasn’t been literally silent since the incident. She’s been talking like normal to her friends and family, just not at home. Still, her voice is croaky, like it hasn’t been used in years.

Jon’s dulled eyes snap to her, a spark of surprise momentarily bringing life back into them.

“I can’t keep doing this, Jon.” Marinette says. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry for shutting you out. I just… I can’t deal with heroes.” She pauses, but still Jon just stares at her. She ducks her head, training her eyes on her tea. She makes it to calm her, but it isn’t doing its job very well. “…We should probably arrange for different places next year.”

She glances up, daring to watch him closely. He sags in his chair, closes his eyes, slips his fingers under his glasses to rub at them. “I’m sorry.” He chokes out. “I… Can I- Can I at least explain everything? Please? I… I liked it here. I liked it when we were friends and things felt normal.” Normal. There’s that word. Marinette supposes Jon’s definition is more like Adrien’s than hers. “If you don’t want to live together anymore, I can’t stop you…”

“We haven’t been living together for a while, Jon.”

He sighs. “No, I guess not. But… You can keep this place if you want. Get a different roommate. I’ll move out. I just- Can I please explain? I hate that we never even talked about it.”

Marinette fears she’ll crush her teacup. “It’s hard for me to talk about.” She admits.

“Will you be okay just listening?”

“I’m not sure.” They’re sitting in that too-heavy silence for too long again and it feels like their recent, sick, festering “normal” and it’s too much for Marinette to take. “I will listen, though. I… I liked living together, too. It was fun. It felt… normal. I owe you this much.”

Jon closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath. “I was Superboy.” He says. Marinette… is not too surprised. Jon with that “S” on his chest makes a bit too much sense. Not to mention, it explains why his parents are so good on news about Superman and him. “I quit being a hero before I came here. I thought…” He sighs again. “I thought I could hang up the cape and just go to college like anyone else and I’d feel normal. I’d feel… human. And I did. I was starting to, at least. That’s why I don’t want another roommate, because you made me feel like… You gave me everything I came here to find. I thought I could be happy this way.”

Marinette sets her jaw. Her teacup is burning her palms, and her knuckles hurt with how she’s holding it, but she barely feels it. “I think I know what you mean.” She says.

Jon shakes his head. “I was a hero since I was ten, Marinette. I don’t… I don’t know any different. But… even so… I…” He sets his glasses down on the table and covers his face. She can hear how he’s working to control his breathing. “When I think about going back, about fighting again, I get… I can’t do it. I just can’t do it, Marinette. So… I don’t know what you have against heroes, but… I promise, I’m not one anymore. I don’t know if you can- can- I don’t know. Forgive me for having been one. But you don’t need to worry about being around one now.” He’s quiet for a moment. Marinette doesn’t know what to say. Then, he adds, “I came to New York to get away from being a hero. I thought I could… I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now.”

The irony makes Marinette want to laugh. Or cry. Or both. And still… knowing he’s retired just like she is puts her at ease. Not totally, but… a lot. Enough, for now. “I’m the same, you know.” She says. She’s so quiet she’s not sure he even hears except for how he lifts his head to look at her. She debates telling him for a moment, but if she can trust anyone with her identity, it’s him. He knows exactly what she’s going through. His situation is… frighteningly similar. And he deserves an explanation. How she’s been treating him is unfair and cruel. He deserves to know the reason for it. “I was Ladybug.”

“…Oh.”

“I came to New York, to America, to get away from being a hero.” Marinette admits. “And when I saw you with one, I just… I felt like everything I gave up was for nothing. Like I just uprooted my whole life, left my home, my friends, the man I love, all for nothing. Because I was happy here, too, but then, just when this place was starting to feel like a real home, everything I tried to get away from ended up being right inside our home anyway.”

“I… yeah. I know how you feel.”

“Hurts, right? That the person you found normal with wasn’t normal at all to start with?”

Jon flinches. “Yeah. A lot.”

“…I don’t blame you.” Marinette says. “I know it’s not your fault. I’m sorry I hurt you, I just…”

“It still feels kind of like a betrayal.” Jon finishes for her. “Even though I know it’s a… dumb cosmic one neither of us are really responsible for. Doesn’t stop it from hurting.”

“Exactly.”

“I get it. I’m not mad, either. I’m just…”

“Sad. Hurt.”

“Exactly.” Jon leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell kind of luck have we got? Two former heroes trying to leave that life behind us, and we end up as roommates.”

“In a city neither of us are from.” Marinette adds. It’s small, weak, but she smiles. Utterly ridiculous. “Fate really is mean sometimes.”

Jon sighs. “Yeah. So… what now?”

“I don’t know, Jon. I don’t know.”

Jon slowly puts his glasses back on, but trains his eyes on the table as he says, “Is this a bad thing? That we’re both what we are? I’m not sure I can tell.”

Marinette chuckles. “Me neither. On one hand, I don’t have to hide anything. I don’t have to pretend I wasn’t ever a hero. On the other…”

“On the other,” Jon says, “I’m sick and tired of heroes, and I kind of want nothing to do with them.”

“On the bright side, we understand each other beautifully.” Marinette says.

Jon snorts, laughing reluctantly. “There’s that, at least. Too bad we don’t understand ourselves right now.”

Marinette can’t help but giggle along. “I think both of us let our grades slip recently.”

Jon grimaces. “…You too?”

She nods. “We don’t have to decide about the place for another week or so, right? So, why don’t we just… try? Try this as we are, focus on getting ready for finals in the meantime, and… and if we feel like we can be okay when the time comes, we can room together again.”

Jon smiles. It’s still hurt, fragile, and vulnerable, but he smiles. “That sounds like a great plan.”

“Who knows?” Marinette says, taking a risk to punch his shoulder playfully. “Maybe this’ll be a good thing in the long run.”

“Aha. I don’t know, but I sure hope so.”

“Good morning, Marinette.”

Marinette yawns, heading directly to their coffee machine only to find a still-steaming mug on the counter right next to it. She blinks blearily at it for a moment before grabbing it. She can tell from the color that it’s made how she likes it. Jon’s is different. “Morning, Jon.” She says, sipping her coffee. It’s exactly how she likes it.

She isn’t sure why she doesn’t expect that. Their whole problem was only this semester, and they have a whole first semester of experience living together to fall back on. Something just feels unsteady about it. Like, because the first half of them knowing each other is obscured by the betrayal of heroism haunting them, it doesn’t really mean much at all.

But that’s just not true. They may not know each other like they hope, but they still know each other. It’s in the little things, like this, like Jon remembering how she likes her coffee and knowing when she wakes up so well that the cup he makes for her is as perfect as middling coffee brewed in a second-hand coffee-maker can be. Just the right amount of cream, just the right amount of sugar, at just the right temperature. The warmth hits the back of Marinette’s throat and radiates outwards from there, flooding her body, and she feels, for the first time in what seems like forever, a step closer to okay.

The normal that they found so quickly in each other, in only just a few months, the normal that gives them hope that they can find it again, it’s still worth something. It isn’t fake. It’s real. They aren’t just imagining it. It feels so much like a distant memory, faded to the point of being illusory, but it’s real. Marinette wants that back.

Marinette focuses on her drink. Really, she should have expected what happened. What seems too good to be true, is. From the moment she hit it off with Jon, the moment they fell into comfortable routine, the moment he became one of her best friends, she should have known it couldn’t be left unsoiled.

But he is retired. He quit, just like she did. And that, for everything else it is, is a little miraculous.

She doesn’t have time to linger on it. If she wants to come back to America next year, she needs to get on top of her finals. Granted, she’s not in a horrible position, but this semester has been rough. She’s not on the verge of failing just yet but if she doesn’t work hard it’s not out of the question. She suspects Jon is in the same boat, too. As much as she’d like to sit with him and talk and try to find a new normal, she needs to study. If she doesn’t, whatever chance at normal she has with Jon will be gone anyway.

They sit at the table together but don’t talk. Both of them have textbooks in front of them as they eat their breakfast. It’s not quite where they were before, and it’s not even quite comfortable, but it’s not totally awkward. It’s somewhere in-between, in almost every sense.

“I’ve got to get to class.” Marinette says, checking the time. “I’m going to stop by the tutoring center, too, so I probably won’t be back until dinner.”

“Alright.” Jon says. The conversation sounds so familiar, but it’s strange. Muted. There’s no life to it. It makes Marinette squirm, but she can’t fix it yet. It’s going to take time. Jon feels as betrayed as she did, knowing she’s Ladybug, and she stopped talking to him for months because of it. They’re brave and valiant together to keep trying this way, but it won’t be fixed overnight with one heart-to-heart. “I’ll see you then.”

Marinette wants nothing more than to stay, to keep talking, to never let silence consume them again, but instead she just ducks her head, gathers her things, and leaves.

Class is alright. Marinette still doesn’t feel like she can give it her all, but she can give it enough. She can take her notes and she can memorize facts, even if she can’t truly process them and use them like she normally would. She can give her tutors enough attention that they smile at her, soft little things telling her that they notice and that they’re glad she’s on the path to recovery from whatever has been distracting her.

Jon makes dinner for the both of them, but when they sit down to eat together, they don’t talk. Notes and textbooks are still on the table, but as Marinette watches Jon, he’s more focused on pushing the food around his plate than on studying.

It feels almost like a role reversal. Marinette knows him well enough by now to know that he has so much to say hidden inside him. So many words that want to spill from those lips. But she knows intimately how the moment he tries to push any out they wither on his tongue and end up dry, powdery, incomprehensible.

She knows because she’s the same way. She can’t break the silence any more than he can. Not for any more than little things.

Luckily, the little things are important. Marinette takes his plate when they’re both finished, murmurs a “no problem” to his “thank you” and takes care of the dishes while he’s still studying at the table.

Little things, like how they can at least study together, even if they’re doing so independently. Little things, like how he rolls a highlighter to her even if he can’t meet her gaze to do so. Little things, like how they say good night, and how Jon still changes his shoes in the entranceway when he comes home, and how Marinette finally thanks him for making the effort.

They’re not quite friends, and this apartment isn’t quite home, but they are roommates again. It’s not much, but it means a lot.

“I don’t want to move.” Marinette says eventually, unprompted, while Jon is watching television with his class notes on his lap. She would chastise him for that, but he doesn’t actually look at the notes for the better part of thirty minutes, so she thinks this can qualify as a break rather than study time.

“Neither do I.” Jon says. “So?”

“So, want to be roommates again next year?”

Jon looks over to her curiously. “Really? I kind of… I mean we haven’t- we’re not exactly-”

“I know.” Marinette says. “It’s still weird, knowing you’re Superboy.”

“Very weird.” Jon agrees.

“But we’re… okay, right? Not good, maybe, but we’re okay.”

He smiles. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

“And we have the whole summer to get used to the idea. With some space to process it all. When we get back…”

“When we get back, maybe we’ll be good?”

Marinette nods. “It’s weird. And it’s scary. I think on some level I’m still afraid that our friendship was just… both of us trying too hard to be normal. Like it’s insincere, somehow.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing. We both wanted that so badly, and we hit it off when we first met, so we just… threw all those desires onto each other without thinking about it.” Jon winces. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Me neither. But…” Marinette takes a seat next to him on the sofa with a heavy sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t? Maybe when we’re not in our own way we really do get along that well.”

Jon chuckles. “You were one of my best friends. Which is weird, because thinking about it we haven’t really known each other long. Not when I felt that way, anyway. I’ve been wondering if maybe leaving my old life behind has just… made me so lonely you kind of had to become that to me.”

Now it’s Marinette’s turn to wince. “I understand completely. You were the first thing I had that I thought I could… keep feels like such a bad word to use here, but…”

“To keep. Someone I got in this new part of my life that I don’t have to sacrifice along with everything else I’ve already given up. Yeah, I feel the same way. Keep makes sense.”

“And I wonder if maybe I was clinging a little too hard, considering we’d only known each other for a semester.”

Jon chuckles. “Tell me about it. Maybe you’re right. Maybe the summer apart will be good for us. I just know I’m not ready to give up on this thing we got going on yet.”

“Me neither. Not a chance. You’ll keep in touch, though, right? We can still text each other.”

“Of course, I will!” Jon’s small smile finally breaks into a true grin. “I want us to be good.”

“I want us to be good, too.” Marinette says softly. “How’s finals coming, by the way?”

Jon groans loudly and throws his arm over his eyes as he leans back. “Don’t even start.”

——-=——-

Tag List: @moonystars14 @pawsitivelymiraculous @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @buticaaba @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @theatreandcomicfreak @toodaloo-kangaroo <3

#miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml fanfiction #ml x dc #maribat #marijon #ehhtrtd

58 notes · View notes

thisisallthehattersfault · 5 years ago

Text

Whoops everyone’s poly

You guys remember that Mal/Jay/Evie/Carlos/Ben/Jane/Doug/Lonie post I made forever ago and said I probably wasn’t ever gonna write? Well. Turns out I’m gonna write it.

“You don’t have to be.” Mal says it with such conviction that Jane looks up from her shaking hands, blinking in stupid confusion at her.

“What?”

“You don’t have to be a better daughter,” She says, firmer, and with none of the slow over-enunciation that usually accompanies her mother when Jane forces her to repeat herself. “If she refuses to be a better mother. It’s a two-way street, and since she’s the one who dragged you kicking and screaming into this world, she’s the one who owes you more.”

Oh. Oh, of course. For a second, Jane had forgotten who she was talking to, and now that she’s been reminded -- goodness, she’s so selfish, whining about such trivial problems to the isle kids. “It isn’t like that,” Jane rushes to explain. “It isn’t like --” The way Mal barely sleeps and Evie barely eats and Jay can’t stand being touched sometimes and Carlos has scars on every inch of him. “She would never hit me,” Jane says, instead of any of that. “She’s never once laid a hand on me.”

Mal breathes slowly out through her nose. Shakes her head. Meets Jane’s earnest stare with her own gaze too soft, too understanding. Says “She doesn’t have to.”

Doug slams the side of his fists against the countertop, so full of rage and weariness that he’s sick with it all the way up to his lungs. It tastes like acid in his throat, spilling out past his lips. “We’re not human!” He snarls, angrier than he’s let himself be in a long, long time. “Dwarves and fairies and- and- genies and mer! We aren’t just humans with some extra pieces! We aren’t just different phenotypes, we’re completely different genotypes! It’s disgusting, the way they expect us to live!”

It isn’t fair to let this out in front of Jay. Doug feels kind of stupid about it actually, like a puppy yapping at a grizzled old police dog. His anger must look as pathetic as it feels, coming from someone like him, but -- dammit.

“I am so goddamn tired,” He says, “Of chopping off pieces of myself so I don’t make some rich, spoiled asshole uncomfortable.”

His pitiful ranting sputters off into incoherent, angry noises. He thumps his fists against the counter a second time. A third, before he calms down enough to acknowledge that even though he’s sturdier than a human, his fists will still break before the marble does. He presses them down instead, palms flat against cold stone. Feels the hum of it under his hands like a struck anvil, ringing out.

In the sudden silence of the kitchen, he gasps “Sorry. Sorry, that -- I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”

Jay doesn’t answer. For a second, Doug thinks he must have left the kitchen when Doug started throwing his little temper tantrum. Serves you right, he thinks. Other people shouldn’t have to listen to you whining.

Then he jumps a mile in the air, because without making a single sound Jay crosses the kitchen and gets close enough to reach out and tug on a lock of Doug’s hair.

Jay doesn’t laugh at him for startling and whipping around though, doesn’t even poke fun at Doug’s raised hands, like he thinks he’s tough enough to win a fight against anyone. Jay just looks at him with his easy smile and reaches up again, pushing Doug’s glasses up from where they’d slipped down his nose. “Want me to braid your hair?” Jay asks.

“Hold up.” Lonnie rounds on Carlos so fast he jumps. “You’ve been holding back on me?!”

“No, no!” Carlos waves his hands in front of him like he’s trying to blow away the very idea. “It’s just, I’m used to fights where people are trying to kill each other! Like, for real kill each other? And those are really hard! But here it’s hard in a different way, because we aren’t trying to hurt anybody and there’s rules about what moves I can and can’t use and it gets kinda confusing! I guess I just… have to concentrate more on doing things differently for ROAR because I learned a totally different way, and it makes me slower and, like. Clumsier. I guess.”

Lonnie groans, bringing her hand up to her face. “Okay,” She says, after taking a minute to contemplate this new information. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna get dressed, I’m gonna go get my sword, and we’re gonna meet in the training room in fifteen minutes to have a no-holds-barred, actual sword fight, and you’re gonna show me what you can really do. Got it?”

‘Uh. Now?” Carlos glances at the clock, brow furrowing. “But it’s already past curfew? And, I heard you saying you had a test tomorrow, don’t you wanna stu--”

“De Vil!” She cuts over him. It’s kind of cute, how quickly and how easily he jumps to attention when she calls on him. “Fifteen minutes. Do you need me to say it again?”

“No, Captain,” He says. When he shakeshakeshakes his head his curls go flying everywhere. That’s kinda cute, too. “I’ll be there.”

Lonnie lets her stern expression drop, grinning at him, and then grinning wider when his shoulders slump and he smiles shyly back at her. “Good,” She chirps. Then she turns on her heel and marches out of the room.

It’s half past one in the morning. Ben will blame that for why he can’t seem to smile wide enough, can’t bring himself to brush off Evie’s concerns with quite enough grace. It’s half past one in the morning and Ben needs to be up in three and a half hours to meet with his financial advisors and he has two tests tomorrow that he hasn’t studied for and He’s expected to give a speech at the Gala this weekend and he’s still fighting with his counsel over housing arrangements for the new wave of isle kids even though they’ll be here in barely a month and he just. He can’t. Smile. Right now.

Weak, he thinks. You’re so weak.

Evie’s hand is small and warm and so gentle when she rests it against his arm, peering up at him with worry all over her face. “Ben?”

To his horror, he feels his eyes start to sting. He turns away from her, clenches them shut, hoping against hope that she hasn’t noticed. “I’m sorry,” He gets out through the sudden knot in his throat. “Sorry, I’m. I’m just a little over tired is all, I was just --”

“Getting coffee?” Evie accuses, not unkindly. “At almost two am?”

“I have. Paperwork.”

“Ben.” She doesn’t try to force him to look at her, which is a good thing, because his fight against the tears is a losing battle. It’s all he can do to breathe instead of break down sobbing. “Ben, sweetheart. When was the last time you slept? Or…” A thoughtful pause. A dangerous pause, because Evie is observant and she pays attention to everything and the only person better than her at noticing things Ben would rather keep hidden is Carlos, who Ben has managed to avoid.

When Evie speaks again, her voice is even softer, practically whispering to him in the low light of the kitchen. “Or ate? Or got some exercise, or did something you enjoyed?”

He can’t answer her. He’s too busy trying to stop crying. Part of him is almost grateful for it, because it means he doesn’t have to admit that he doesn’t remember.

“Oh, Ben…”

He risks a look over his shoulder. Through blurry eyes, he sees her, looking at him with such open heartbreak on her face. Whatever defenses he has, they aren’t strong enough to withstand that. He crumples forward against the table, buries his face in his hands. “I don’t--” He hiccups out. Coughs. Swallows. Tries to breathe. “I don’t know what to do.”

#Descendants #Disney Descendants #Jay ibn Jafar #Evie Grimhilde #Carlos de Vil #Mal Bertha #jane descendants #Doug son of Dopey #Ben Florian #Li Lonnie #I'm not tagging ships #uh... I don't think anything here needs a trigger warning?#Ask to tag #I'm prioritizing TKAAR so this will be slow coming but it's in the works #alice writes #snippets and teasers

35 notes · View notes

justcallmenikki7 · 6 years ago

Text

BTS Reaction To: You Standing Up For Yourself (Mafia!Au) (Hoseok and Maknae! Line)

Summary: you don’t put up with shit from people who disrespect you.

Warnings: language, harassing, rude men who degrades women, discriminatory comments, women being bitches, self esteem, women degrading women, women picking at readers weight and looks, age and maturity talk (?).

Notes: two posts in one night? hell yes. also, a big thank you to @charliesfairy for helping me and giving me ideas!! i love you<3

Request: Anon said- bts mafia reaction to their s/o having a strong personality and knowing how to protect themselves.

***********

Hoseok:

Being the fiancé of a mafia leader is hard because of the constant pressure of making sure that you are not in any danger, some of the criticism from peers, and the constant worry from your fiancé himself. Plus, it is hard trying to live a normal life when your fiancé will not really let you live one due to him having enemies that try to take him out and possibly hurt you to get to him. But, after some reassuring and persuasion from your side, you finally got him to agree on letting you have a job where you can have a somewhat normal life – plus you can feel better that you are not solely depending on your boyfriend for everything. You hate depending on people and like the feeling that you are independent.

Even though you have a job, you are still put under protection by having a guard that watches you from a distance to make sure you are safe. This was an argument between both you and your boyfriend, which was not a pretty sight. But hearing his side of the story, which is him having a peace of mind that you are safe and are protected while he is at work made you be able to live with having someone watch you 24/7.

Anyways, you love your job. You love the people, the atmosphere, meeting new people, making new friends/acquaintances has been something you have thoroughly love. Hoseok can see this too by your change in mood. Of course, there are those rude customers. Usually you are able to be calm while you dealt with the rude customers, but the ones today are not that easy.

When you first walked up to the table filled with young men, you had a gut feeling that it was not going to end well. At first, they were semi pleasant, but as time went on, they became ignorant and crude towards you. One male, in particular, stuck out like a sore thumb. You did your best on trying to ignore them and being as polite as possible, that was, until, the ignorant male made a comment when you were walking away with their order”

“Hey baby,” the male said as his eyes trailed down from your back to your butt, eyes staying glued to it for a few seconds before looking back up at you, “when you bring that sweet thing back over here, make sure to bring a soda with it.” he winked at you, making you feel disgusted and angry.

Finally having enough, you slammed your notepad on the ground before you stormed over to the table. In your angry state, you did not see your fiancé come into the restaurant with your on guard body guard in tow. The look of surprise and enjoyment on the group of men made you even angrier, they like that you are angry.

“I am sick and tired of how you all have been treating me. You all are nothing but ignorant pigs, finding enjoyment by disrespecting women and harassing them with crude words. I am now going to ask you to leave the restaurant and to never comeback unless you comeback with some manners.” You tried to stay as calm as possible along with not using any curse words.

“You cannot kick us out, we are your customers. You serve us.” one commented, a smirk on his face.

“Yes, she can, and you better leave before things get a lot uglier. And you better apologize to my fiancé before you become nothing.” A familiar voice spoke up from behind you, bringing you a sense of comfort and safety. The pure look of terror crossed every man sitting at that table, bringing you satisfaction that they realized who they have been harassing the whole entire time. “And if I find out that you have been harassing anyone else like you have been to my fiancé, then I will make sure no one ever sees any of you again.”

Nodding their heads, they all apologized to you before quickly leaving your restaurant. Turning around, you came face to face with the love of your life. “Thank you for stepping in, but I had it all under control.” you thanked, kissing Hoseok on the cheek.

“I know you did, but I could not stand how they were treating you so I wanted to say something. Plus, you being really angry turned me on.” he winked, giving you a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, smacking his shoulder lightly. “But seriously, I am proud of you, baby girl.”

Smiling, you brought Hoseok into a hug, mumbling a ‘I love you’ into his chest, to which he replied “i love you too, Y/N. I will always protect you no matter what.”

Jimin:

Everyone looked down at you in the mafia and real world since you were dating Park Jimin. Park Jimin was the definition of cold, heartless, and strict – someone who was straight to business and made sure there were no mistakes. You were the definition of kind, loving, and someone who wore their heart on their sleeve and gave them your full trust right then and there. That was something everyone took advantage of. Even though you were someone who could defend themselves, you never did because of your view that everyone was human and made mistakes.

That is why you were now criticizing yourself to the max.

You wanted to help your fiancé out and wanted to prove that you were worthy enough of being his fiancé. Deciding to do a drug deal alone without any help was the biggest mistake in your life – probably to the point where Jimin will never trust you and possibly break up with you.

You could feel the tears form in your eyes by the mocking laughter of the dealers. Every laugh and every chuckle that they continued to light the fuse to the anger you were feeling.

“It is funny how she thought that she could do a man's job. I am sorry, baby, but this field is only for men, not weak women, like you.” the leader called out.

And that is what made you go off. Screaming out in anger like a mad woman, you took out your pistol and shot at the man's leg, earning a cry of pain from him. His cry brought you a sick and twisted satisfaction.

“Who's the weak on now, huh?” you question, aiming your gun at his two back up men. “i have had it with everyone criticizing me for being the fiancé of Park Jimin. Just because I have the opposite personality as him does not make me any less of him. Whipty do, I have a vagina and boobs, that makes me a girl – but that does not define my damn strength and worth as a person. And just because I was not born into this line of business does not mean I am going to hold him back from his job. So, you all need to shut the fuck up and give me some respect because I will not fucking hesitate to kill you all.”

“That’s my girl.” You heard an all familiar deep voice praise from behind you, causing you to freeze in worry and relax at the thought of your fiancé being here. “Now, why are you boys trying to take advantage of my girl and degrading her?” The men were stumbling over their words, causing Jimin to sigh in annoyance. Snapping his fingers, you saw Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi stalk over to them and drag them off to the black vans. “Boys, make sure they are nice and ready for my girl when we get to the cells. I know my girl needs to release some anger and they are the right toys.” Jimin chuckled darkly, bringing you into his chest.

“How did you find me?” Was the first thing that you asked Jimin.

“I have my ways, but that is beside the point. I am proud of you baby for defending yourself. Now, before you ask, no, I am not mad at you. I am proud of you for being the strong and beautiful woman that you are and for wanting to prove to people that you are, even though you do not need to. You do not need to prove anything to anyone.” Jimin explained, kissing your head. You know that Jimin struggles with his words, but that is okay because you know that he loves you and you love him.

Taehyung:

Being with someone who is a Greek god is hard because you are automatically compared to them. Every day you always wonder how the Kim Taehyung – a beautiful human being, sculpted by the gods themselves, who is also a mafia leader – wanted to be with you and asked you to marry him. You have never looked at yourself in a positive light because of how ‘bland’ you see yourself as. Yes, you can admit that you do think you are pretty, but not pretty enough.

By being with Taehyung, you have had a lot of criticism from it due to the looks. The main group of those people who do criticize you are girls from outside of his gang and inside his gang. They always say you are not worthy enough in looks to be with Kim Taehyung because you are not even close to his looks. Of course, you do your best in ignoring them by reassuring yourself that you are a lot nicer than them, intelligent, and human than they are. Which is true, you treat people with respect, you are a very smart person and are good at strategizing with Kim Namjoon when it comes to ambushing a warehouse, and are more human because you do not go and tear someone down because they do not fit in the category of ‘worthy’ in something.

Even though you do your best in ignoring them, you still have your breaking point.

Tonight, is ball night, which means you have to wear a dress (which is something you despise wearing). When you walked out of your shared bedroom, Taehyungs jaw dropped. The look in his eyes and the words he whispered in your ear about what he planned on doing to you later when you both got home had you feeling sexy and confident in yourself. The whole night Taehyung kept you beside him – his arms wrapped possessively around your waist, a dark look in his eyes towards men who stared for too long, and his body pressed against yours told you that Taehyung was feeling extremely possessive of you.

His actions have helped you not worry about the envious looks from every girl in the room.

“Kitten, I have to speak with two men, it will only take me a few minutes and I will be back, okay?” Your fiancé explained to you, giving you his boxy smile that was only reserved for you.

“Okay, don’t leave me here all by myself for too long.” You teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed, kissing your forehead before leaving.

“Who, I cannot believe you decided to show up looking like that.” A voice spoke from behind you, followed by mocking laughs.

Turning around, you came face to face with the group of girls who make your life a miserable hell. “What is your problem with me? What did I ever do to you?” was the first thing you asked.

Scoffing, the girl replied, “I have a problem with the face that my leader has a cow as a fiancé. Taehyung is too good for you. He deserves a beautiful woman who is skinny, smart, and strong as his fiancé. Not someone who looks like a cow, thinks that she is smart, and believes that she is strong. You are nothing but a loser that is not good enough to be in this line of business, that is why I have a problem with you.”

Trying to not let her words get to you, you stood up straight and walked closer to her with your head held him. “You know what you lack in? Kindness. You see, you are nothing but a sad, insecure, scared woman who thinks that everyone is below you. You may be told that you are beautiful because you have the ‘perfect body’ or the ‘perfect hair’ always wearing the most expensive clothes, jewelry, and makeup. But you are not beautiful, you are ugly by how you treat people and degrade them. You are ugly by calling people names, picking fun at their looks, and rating them on how much money they have, you are just plain ugly.” you growled out, not breaking eye contact from her.

You knew that you pissed her off and you knew she was about to hit you from the way her fists clenched and how stiff she got. As she was going to punch you, you grabbed her fist, twisting it behind her back which caused her to yell out in pain, and you kicked her behind her knees, making her fall down.

“What the fuck is going on here?” your boyfriend yelled out, coming to stand beside you.

“i love you babe, but you need to teach some of your members respect and kindness – some of them lack in it.” your grip on the girl’s wrist tightened, making her yell out in pain. “I will be in the car.” you said before letting go of the girl’s wrist and walking off.

Jungkook:

You have always believed that maturity comes from experience – not age. Yes, age does play in with it, but going through life events and growing through them is what you believe defines a person's maturity level.

So why do you get bashed on for being in a relationship with a 23-year-old mafia leader? That is something that you ask yourself almost every day when someone is shocked on how old you are. Yes, 19 is still young, but that does not mean anything. But it obviously does when you are dating a 23-year-old. Ever since you started dating Jungkook you have been criticized by your age and lack of maturity. People in the mafia world believe that you are too ‘immature’ to be handling weapons, going to meetings, being with the one and only Jeon Jungkook. This has caused a lot of fights in your relationship because of how much stress it puts on you both. You know that Jungkook has been targeted as a weakling now because of it, making you feel guilty and contemplating on leaving him no matter how much you love him.

That morning, you both woke up in each other's arms, naked bodies pressed together as if the both of you were one whole. The argument from the night before was still on both of your minds, but the makeup was what made you stronger. That is something that you love about both yours and Jungkook's relationship is the communication that you both share with one another. You both do not go and runaway, you both talk (mainly yell) it out, explaining how you both feel, and once everything that you both had been holding in is out, and you go from there.

“Do you still want to come? It is okay if you don’t, I wouldn’t blame you since nothing exciting happens.” Jungkook asked you, kissing your shoulder blade.

“I still want to come to the meeting. I like learning what you do and what goes on behind the scenes of being a mafia boss.” you answered, looking up at your boyfriend.

“behind the scenes?” Jungkook teased, pressing kisses to your face as you laughed.

Once you both stopped laughing and decided to get up and get ready, you both hopped into the shower. After the both of yours shower, you got dressed in appropriate clothing for the meeting and left. The drive to the meeting was quiet besides the music that was playing from the radio. When the familiar building came into view, you suddenly became tense. You have a feeling that this meeting was not going to end well, making you extremely nervous on what's to come.

When you and Jungkook walked into the elevator, he brought you into a hug which made you relax, “you know what babe, fuck everyone. Just because you are four years younger than me does not mean shit. If I did not thing you were right for me then I would not have asked you out. I asked you to be my girlfriend because of what I saw in here” he pointed towards your heart. “and I fell in love with the girl who spilt coffee on me. I fell in love with the girl who makes my heart pound faster each time I look at her. I fell in love with the girl who makes me smile, happy, crazy, and makes me a better person each day. I don’t give a fuck on what those people think because they are not the ones in this relationship, it is only us. And if they have a problem with it, then they can simply fuck off, or, if you allow me to, blow their heads off.”

His speech brought tears to your eyes and speechless. Before you could reply the elevator dinged, signaling that you made it to the floor where the meeting was to be held. You and Jungkook walked out of the elevator hand in hand and to the room where the meeting was, as you walked in, a person had the guts to say something.

“I’m sorry, ma’am but this meeting is for adults and not little girls,” he apologized mockingly.

“Neither should little boys, but look at who showed up.” You sighed as you walked to the chair that was beside Jungkooks.

752 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 6 years ago

Note

For the prompt list, can I request "Is that blood?" for GO? Thank you so much! I love your work

Thank you so much for your kind words and your prompt. It got angsty, but I couldn’t think of too many fluffy ways to go with it XD I hope you like it :D

Battlefield Earth

Just a week after defying Heaven and Hell, Hell has decided they want their demon back ... (1206 words - Warning for mention of blood and injuries, angst)

“I thought you said they’d leave us alone!” Aziraphale scolds to keep his mind off everything going on right now – the buildings burning behind them, innocent victims of defensive magic gone awry; the sword in his hands, its fire blazing bright, but its weight becoming unbearable; and, most alarming, the searing pain in his chest, one that intensifies with every step he takes over the uneven ground, the coarsely broken asphalt.

“I said they’d leave us be for a little while!” Crowley calls over his shoulder, comparably in much better condition than his companion. Of course, the horde that attacked had been comprised of demons, not angels. They didn’t like Crowley. They considered him a traitor. But they feared and respected him more than they did Aziraphale. Plus, they weren’t trying to kill him. They were trying to wound him. They had orders to bring him back to Beelzebub alive.

That didn’t necessarily mean in one piece.

On the other hand, the angel is his weakness. They know that. Take him down and Crowley would falter eventually.

“It’s only been a week!” Aziraphale squeaks.

“Yeah, well, that’s a little while!”

Aziraphale stops talking, focusing his remaining energy on following Crowley to safety – if that even exists. They can’t go to Crowley’s flat, can’t get to his car. Nor back to the bookshop. His heart sinking in his chest, he had to come to terms with the fact that none of those probably exist anymore … again. If what the demons did to that poor restaurant he and Crowley had stopped to have lunch in is any indication, these demons aren’t playing games, they’re not being subtle …

… and they don’t care whom they kill in their efforts to get to him and Crowley.

Aziraphale came out worse off than Crowley because he tarried, lingering after the initial explosion to miracle the human patrons to safety. He didn’t tell Crowley, so Crowley took off without him.

If he hadn’t doubled-back, Aziraphale may have been discorporated.

No, Aziraphale thinks with a swallow that makes his bones ache. Worse. But he can’t ponder that too long.

Especially since his brain has stopped working, as has his legs.

He’s stopped running, but he didn’t notice.

He looks up, peers through the haze to see Crowley standing across from him, staring at him, mouthing something that looks like, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Of course,” Aziraphale slurs, tipsy from exhaustion. “Why do you ask?”

“Is that blood?” Crowley steps closer, examines Aziraphale’s clothes. Aziraphale looks, too, trying to see what he sees.

Difficult with Crowley’s halo of black fire suddenly visible and searing his eyes.

“Well, yes. We seem to be covered in it, my dear.”

“I mean, is that your blood?”

“Quite possibly. I may have a nick or two.” He straightens with false strength, shooing Crowley away. If Crowley worries, then he’ll worry, and Aziraphale can’t afford to worry just yet.

“It seems we’ve come away victorious for the time being,” Crowley says, shrugging off his concerns. If Aziraphale isn’t worried, he’s not going to worry. He pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes down the sword he’s carrying. He doesn’t own a sword. He’d grabbed it off a fallen demon. Doesn’t want to admit how sick it made him to snatch it from their dying grasp. He suspects he’d better get used to it. There may be more of this ahead.

But Aziraphale and his flaming sword …

Aziraphale was magnificent!

Crowley has never seen Aziraphale fight before, never seen him get any angrier than fussed, usually when something he’s ordered comes out wrong.

But Aziraphale didn’t look angry – full of rage and fury like the angels fighting in the Great War of old.

He looked concerned for the safety of the humans. Eager to get away.

And tired. Oh, so tired.

He still looks tired. Dead on his feet.

Crowley has to get him somewhere he can relax.

“What do you want to do now?” he asks.

“Fuck!”

Crowley’s head pops up, a mixture of amusement and speedy acceptance coloring his face, a welcome replacement for the anxiety of an hour ago. “Are you saying that as an exclamation or a request?”

“As in fuck! I think something stabbed me in the chest!” Aziraphale’s knees buckle. He falls to the rubble.

“Oi!” Crowley drops his sword and rushes over, swooping in to catch the angel before his head hits the concrete. “Okay, then! I should probably fix you up!”

“Probably should … yes …”

Crowley carefully removes Aziraphale’s hand clutching a dark spot in the center of his shirt, struggling to remain emotionless when he sees the gash open in Aziraphale’s chest. “Oh … pfft … yeah,” he scoffs. “This isn’t … it’s nothing. Barely a scratch. Have that fixed up in a jiffy.” He presses his palm against it and concentrates. These wounds, they can’t be snapped away. They’re too massive. They’ve done too much damage. Besides, if he uses a demonic miracle as opposed to his own cultivated power, which seems to be separate somehow, paperwork will file.

And what’s left of the horde will know where to find them.

Aziraphale winces as dark magic seeps into his chest, sewing the ragged edges of torn skin back together and sealing them with fire. The mend will hold long enough for Aziraphale’s angelic powers to take over, pushing the demonic influences out before they can do any harm.

In theory.

It’s worked that way thus far on a few other occasions. For minor injuries. Nothing this invasive. Whether there will be any permanent effects, neither angel nor demon choose to think about.

Aziraphale groans, head rolling on his shoulders as he tries to ignore the burn that has started to invade every cell of his body. But the color in his face has gone from ash to pink, his pinched lips are no longer thin, his eyes clearer now as he blinks away the migraine brewing behind them.

“There.” Crowley exhales, barely relieved when he watches the last of the scars scab over. “How do you feel? Better?”

“It’ll do.” Aziraphale grins. It’s slighter than Crowley would like, but as long as it lasts, he’ll take it.

“I’m glad.”

“But after this, can we get drunk and have sex?” Aziraphale asks in that straightforward and nonchalant way that catches Crowley off his guard, makes him weak in the knees.

“Really?” Crowley chuckles. It sounds like a cough – the kind that hides the start of tears.

“It seems like it would be the thing to do in a situation like this, so yes. If that’s okay with you.”

Crowley looks into Aziraphale’s eyes and grins, overdoing the salaciousness of it, desperate to hide his concern. They’re fine for now but what about tomorrow? And the day after? If Earth becomes poison for them, they’ll have to leave, save their own skins. And this time, they won’t be able to save humanity along with them. He’d hate to do it, hate to abandon them and go, but they might not get a choice.

Crowley has to keep his angel safe. And as horrible as it sounds, he’d sacrifice the world for Aziraphale.

He always would.

“Absolutely.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #frankie writes

119 notes · View notes

nctzendreamz · 6 years ago

Text

NCT 127: Their S/O Finally Snaps.

“Can I have an NCT 127 reaction where their s/o who is usually very nice and kind of a pushover goes off on someone out the blue one day? It can be any scenario and it like makes the members proud?”

Taeil:

Your kindness was one of his favorite things about you, but he often got on you about how you didn’t express yourself to people who piss you off. He was currently watching you get fitted for a stage outfit when the woman made a comment about your weight.

“You’ve been eating too much. Now I have to completely erase your sizes from before and remeasure you.” She huffed.

“Good. Maybe that will give you some time to fix your fucking attitude and stop complaining about doing your job.” Was all you said before putting your shirt back on and leaving the room.

Taeil was right behind you, grabbing your hand to stop you from storming off. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just tired of people saying stupid things like that. I’m happy with myself.”

“Good. That’s all that matters.” He pulled you in for a hug while kissing your forehead. “But I won’t deny how much I love your body right now.”

[[MORE]]

Taeyong:

He knew you were having a bad day the minute the door opened and he saw the permanent pout that rested on your features. But he didn’t want to bring it up in hopes that he could make it go away.

It seemed to be working until you got a phone call.

“Just ignore it.” He whispered, trying to distract you with his lips.

“Nah.” You whispered, picking up the phone and standing up from the couch. “What?” Is what you said when you answered.

He had never seen you so angry, not even at him, so he was in shock.

“You know what? All my life you have tried to make me feel less than, but I’m done. I have a great life and an amazing boyfriend who loves me and actually encourages me to be my best. Clearly you’re not on the same tip, so fuck you and your stupid family. don’t ever call me again. Bye dad.” After that, you threw your phone to the wall before taking a deep breath and moving back beside Taeyong. “Sorry. Where were we?”

He would be frozen before a smile crept on his face. “I love you.”

Johnny:

He didn’t notice how much the girl was flirting with him. He knew you were being quiet, but he assumed you just weren’t interested in what they were talking about.

“Do you not see me right here?” You questioned suddenly.

“Of course I do, but clearly he needs someone with a little more personality to excite him.” She responded back with an attitude.

You were laughing now. “Oh please, he wouldn’t look at you on my worst day. Now back up before I reach across his fucking lap and drag you. And yes that is a threat.”

All she did was huff and walk away, and you scooted away from your boyfriend.

“You didn’t lie.” He breathed out, pulling you closer to him. “You really do love me, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Was all you said, pouting like a child.

Yuta:

You and Yuta currently werent speaking because he couldn’t understand why you let people walk all over you. You had ran to him one day trying to vent, and he questioned why you weren’t complaining to the person that made you angry. You two had planned to go to a party together, but since you weren’t speaking you went separately.

“What are you wearing?” One of your supposed friends questioned.

“Yeah Y/N, if you’re going to show up to parties looking like that don’t even bother coming to our section.” Maybe she was joking, but the argument you and Yuta had already had you upset, and you were tired of being stepped on.

“You know what, I like the way I dress, and I really don’t appreciate y’all talking hot shit like you’re not getting cheated on, and you can’t even keep a man.” You huffed, dissing both of them. “If you’re gonna be on my dick, start riding or hop off.” You marched away, feeling much better. Now your eyes were set on your boyfriend who had watched everything that happened. You kissed him passionately, letting him know you were ready to go home and make up.

“You feel better don’t you?” He smirked.

Doyoung:

He was secretly watching you at practice as you two planned a date after. He was originally waiting in the car, but when you didn’t come out at the time you were supposed to, he came in.

“Y/N, what is wrong with you?” He heard the choreographer say. “You’re the so called main dancer yet you’ve been struggling all day. I let you take a break and yet you’re still horrible. You better stay and-

“I’m trying my hardest. Maybe if you didn’t have us locked up in here since the morning time I could get the moves down, but I’m fucking tired. We’ve literally had schedules all week day and night, so don’t tell me about my bad dancing. Fuck you.” Doyoung hid around the corner, and you grabbed your stuff, walking out the practice room. When you saw Doyoung standing in the corner, a proud smile on his face, you laughed. “Go ahead, say it.”

He walked towards you now. “There’s nothing to say other than you are amazing, and I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself. If not I would’ve had to fight him.” He hugged you tightly.

“I’m sweaty!” You yelled, trying to get out of his arms

“And?” He kissed you all over your face.

Jaehyun:

(a moment of silence for this gif...demon)

He was fully aware of how much you didn’t like her, but he had no idea she was going to be at the dorms today. He also didn’t know the beef between you two was this intense, but his sore side from your hands squeezing him out of anger showed him everything.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” She trailed off, wrapping her arms around Johnny’s waist. You ignored her, but she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She kept making sly comments at you and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Apologize.” Johnny said seriously, confused on where this was coming from.

“Fuck an apology. Say something else.” You snapped while stepping infront of Jaehyun, before he pulled you back just as quick and began to walk you two out.

“Don’t stoop to her level.” He whispered in your ear. “She’ll never be you and it makes her angry. Keep making her angry.” He stayed level headed, even though in the inside he was overjoyed that you didn’t let her walk all over you.

Winwin:

“So how does your relationship work?” A man who was in the dressing room with you and Winwin questioned.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“I mean, they don’t speak Chinese. Don’t you think it’s a little unfair to you?”

“They’re learning.” He defended.

“It’s none of your business anyway.” You added, shocking your boyfriend. “All that matters is that we want to be together, so from now on don’t ask rude questions like that.”

“I can say whatever I want.”

“Maybe that’s true, but I can also tell you to get out of my boyfriends dressing room.”

He looked to Winwin for help, but your boyfriend was angrier than you. “You heard them.”

When the man left, Winwin began kissing you instantly.

“I’m practicing hard.” You defended, becoming you shy self once again.

“I know you are. I know. I’m so proud.”

Jungwoo:

You had no problem with any of Jungwoo’s friends, except one. He was constantly picking on you, except when Jungwoo came around. You knew you should’ve stuck up for yourself, but you thought he would’ve went away by now.

“I honestly don’t see why Jungwoo is even dating you. You don’t even talk.” He played with your hair, and you swatted his hands away.

“If you touch me one more fucking time, I will literally get Jungwoo as well as the rest of your friends to beat your ass. I’m so sick and tired of you messing with me.”

“Oh yeah? Well I-

“You got some fucking nerve.” Jungwoo said, coming out the corner. “Is this why you don’t want to be around him? Yes, I noticed.” He asked you, looking very angry.

“Yes.” You answered truthfully, getting up from the chair.

Jungwoo promptly connected his fist to the boys face, knocking him on the ground. “Let’s go.” He whispered, taking your hand. “How could you keep that from me? You know I would’ve handled it.” He questioned when you were alone.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself. But don’t keep a secret like that away from me ever again. I mean it.”

Mark:

Your mother had a habit of being quite pushy and judgemental, and as much as Mark wanted to defend you, he knew he would disrespect her. He had spoken to you about it and hoped you listen to his advice about not letting her hurt you anymore.

“Y/N, why is your house so dirty?”

“It’s not even dirty, mom.”

“Well it’s not spotless. I raised you to have some self respect and this is how you show it? When your mother comes to your house you clean it! And does Mark stay here? Are you two having sex?”

“Nobody even asked you to come! You just showed up. And I’m grown and supply myself with my every need. If I want my boyfriend to spend the night, he can. And yes, we are having sex. If you have a problem with that, leave.”

“I will!” She yelled before storming out. Mark had been sitting at the kitchen table, watching everything go down.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now.” You breathed out, jumping face first into the couch.

He got up, walking to kneel in front of you. “She’ll be okay. But I’m glad you spoke your mind. I love you.” He kissed your cheek sweetly.

Haechan:

Was he eavesdropping? Absolutely. Did he feel bad? Absolutely not. He was two seconds from walking in as he heard your manager scolding you for coming home late from your date last night.

“Listen, I already told you I was leaving. You were the one who said I could go, so don’t get all pissy with me.” It was short and sweet, but it still boosted Haechans ego that he had for you. Once he saw you manager leave, he came in the room clapping.

“Look at my baby, not taking anyone’s trash talk. My little badass.”

#nct #nct 127 #nct reaction #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct masterlist #jaehyun #mark lee #taeyong #johnny #doyoung #winwin #yuta #taeil #jungwoo

298 notes · View notes

long-cosmos-overhead · 5 years ago

Text

Elrond x Reader - My Heart Part 1

Prompt: Elrond x Reader. Elrond and Reader are already thing. But when time comes for Elrond to go for Valinor, she breaks up with him saying that she never really loved him, that it was just for fun. But of course she is lying. The only reason she did that is because she didn't wanted to hurt neither Elrond nor Celebrian. Because she knew that if he choose Celebrian he would feel guilty because he is braking Reader's heart, but if he choose Reader he would break Celrebrian's heart. So she choose something which she thought was best. But the thing she didn't count and she got to knew that after Elrond has passed for Valinor, was that she got pregnant with Elrond's child. She had given birth and it was son. She named him Elros in honor of Elrond's brother, she always told good things about Elrond to him. But eventually when time for his decision has come (to be man or elf.) Reader gave him advice to be from the race of elves so he could meet his father. Eventually Reader and Elros go for Valinor, where they meet with Elrond. Elrond assumes that her son was her boyfriend, and that she had broken up with him because of Elros. At first Elrond is cold to reader, and they get in to argument where she says to him that Elros is his son. He was taken aback by that so he didn't reacted at first, but Reader run away from him, because she didn't wanted him to get even angrier than he was. At that point she suffers really hard heart break, so she falls sick.

Light breeze drifted through the window creating a pleasant chill to the bedroom you resided in with your lover. The sheets that covered the bed soaked up the suns rays and it’s golden hues began to stretch onto the silver and gold that stood proudly around the room. It was a good day in terms of scenery in fact you would’ve deemed it a treat to look out the window over Rivendell but you were sick to your stomach in worry and conflict. Elrond would soon make his journey to Valinor and needed a wife. Elrond would have to choose between you or Celebrain.

You and Celebrain has been close since you were elleths you told each other secrets and occasionally got in a bit of trouble together. Years passed and you both remained almost inseparable. You loved Elrond so dearly but you couldn’t break your closest friends heart. Your mind was at war with itself one part of you tugging one way and the other tugging another. It couldn’t continue much longer.

The sun had since risen up to be level with the window lighting up the room almost fully when you felt Elrond stir next to you. The bedsheets rustled as he stirred. Usually you’d take advantage of his sleeping figure, his features relaxed and no longer harassed by the chores of the day but you feared one look at him would reduce you to tears. You pretended to be asleep closing your eyes and softening your breathing willing for the cogs in your mind to stop whirring for just a day.

“Good morning meleth nin.” His words sounded so sweet and loving it cut you deeper than any blade could ever touch and the gentle kiss pressed against your cheek made you whimper. You loved this man with each fibre of your being he was truely perfect but you knew as much as you feared letting him go, that he could not be yours at the expense of another. You almost didn’t notice his arms snake around your waist you were in too deep to surface.

“Y/n, Mellon, would you acompany me for a walk around the gardens?” Celebrain asked gently knocking your arm just enough to let it swing by your side. Celebrain has always held such beauty it astounded you, you were and still are sometimes jealous of how surreal she looks. Not to mention her wisdom and kindness. She was a true queen unlike you. The thoughts that flooded into your head at each step you took around the gardens made you truely believe Elrond deserved her. “There was a bird here today in the early hours, the poor thing got stuck in a thorn bush and scraped its wing it was a relief we got to it in time.” You didn’t process what Celebrain was saying you only stared into her eyes and the moment you did you knew you could not break her heart.

“Elrond I wish to speak to you.” Your heart was beating so rapidly you feared you may faint. Seeing the slight worry yet adoration in his eyes almost made you cry, you hadn’t even told him and already your heart was beginning to shatter. You looked up at him taking in his beauty for the last time. His hair lay across his shoulders perfectly and his eyes were orbs of pure warmth, their colour never ceasing to capture your thoughts stealing them all away to focus on each detail of his ethereal eyes. You must’ve been staring in sorrow for quite some time as Elrond gently put a soft hand upon your cheek worriedly studying your expression. You drew in a deep breath looking back you weren’t sure why maybe to relax yourself, maybe to release the tight knots in your body or maybe as a reminder to keep yourself grounded.

“I can’t,” You intended your voice to come out strong and harsh but all that came was a mere whisper.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” You tried so hard to block out his voice laced with worry towards you for he didn’t know he was breaking your heart more.

“I can’t go on with this, Elrond, with us.” You swallowed thickly you couldn’t look him in the eyes not after what you said you were sure if you did you’d take it all back crashing into his arms apologising over and over until your voice was broken beyond repair.

“What?” His voice asked so dejected and confused.

“Elrond I can’t stay with you in this relationship.” Impossibly repeating your lies hurt more than the first time.

“I can be a better lover, I can stop working so much I’ll spend more time with you Y/n please you know I’d give up my crown, my honour for you for I am at your mercy I beg you do not leave my side I shall wilt like a flower in the winter. Please meleth.” Heading the desperation flood through his voice almost made you give in. For a second you almost did but the poisonous thoughts flooding your mind stopped you. You would never be a queen and what kind of friend would you be if you married at their expense. You knew if you weren’t firm it would only be more painful if you didn’t end your false confession soon you would break.

“I never loved you Elrond, I only ever loved the riches, the power, the gifts that came through you. My affections towards you were false right from the start but now I am fulfilled in desire I no longer need you. It was all for pleasure not of endearment.” Elrond hoped and prayed you lied, that it was all just a joke and you would return to Rivendell, to your home, to his arms. Years went by and he swore that day all of Middle Earth heard his heart break right in two.

In the time you had left Elrond you became pregnant. Each day you wished and cried for your lost love, deep down you knew he wouldn’t find it in his heart to forgive you despite every word being nothing but a lie. The pregnancy was hard each day you were alone and tired plagued with fatigue, morning sickness and pains. Eventually you gave birth, after long hours, to the most beautiful boy in Middle Earth and the moment you held him in your arms you knew you would give anything for his happiness.

“Mama mama.” Elros giggled at your feet, the ends of his clothes turning a brownish earthy colour. The day was damp and morning dew coated the land. It was late autumn, leaves had turned to a crisp and weather was becoming harsher you made sure you and Elros were kitted out for the upcoming winter. You scooped Elros up into your embrace gently kissing his forehead your grip creasing his clothes ever so slightly. He handed you a little flower no bigger than the palm of his hand looking at you expectantly waiting for your reaction. “It’s beautiful Elros.” You smiled even on sad days like these your son could bring a smile to your face. Elros’ face curved into a smile letting out a warm giggle.

Elros was strange in looks taking a little from you and a little from Elrond to the point of looking like his own person. His eyes he stole from his father those captivating eyes that haunted your memory so stubbornly were now his beauty to claim. His hair was also Elronds, soft silky brown hair that never knotted or spoiled. While brushing his hair you were rather envious his hair was nothing short of perfect. His nose and smile was yours whenever you smiled so did Elros even if he didn’t know why you were smiling, it was beautiful his lips curved the exact way yours did. Elros was the envy of elves. You knew you were so lucky to have such a beautiful, well behaved son.

The sun was now setting igniting the sky in such unfathomable beauty Elros had since been bathed and fed thankfully he enjoyed being clean unlike a few other Ellons. “Do you want to hear a story Elros?” You sat your little one on your lap. He clapped and smiled settling down his tiredness finally catching up to him after a long day of running around.

“Which story do you want to hear?” You shifted in the chair allowing yourself and Elros to get comfortable.

“Ada.” He bounced lightly on your lap swaying the ends of your robes uplifting dust from the floor that sparkled like diamonds in the orange hues.

“Your Ada was a strong and smart elf. He rode into battle with soldiers to keep the women and little elves safe at home.” You paused talking of Elrond always managed to break your heart. The last look in his eyes of pain and anguish never left your mind his heart was broken and so is yours. “He was also kind giving food and love to other elves as well.” Elros was beginning to drift off, his eyelids slowly sinking over his eyes. “One day you’ll be as big and strong as Ada.” You whispered giving Elros one last kiss on the forehead. Your fingers weaved through his hair feeling the same texture as you did all those years ago.

It was a warm night one you remembered well, Elrond was cuddled into your side. A lengthy meeting about Rivendell had tired his mood, he came to you irritated and worn out wordlessly slotting himself by your side wanting nothing less than your comfort. You had never seen such vulnerability in Elrond before in truth you were unsure of how to lift his spirits until you remembered one trick your mother used to do. Silently, you removed his crown gently weaving your fingers through his hair. He loved it finding all the tension reside upon your touch. He fell asleep one arm across your stomach wishing you’d stay forever.

Seasons mixed into one another but time was generous, your beauty never resided or faltered you aged flawlessly seemingly you slipped through the gaps of time graciously forgotten. Elros was fully grown standing around a foot taller than you and wise beyond his years. His time for the decision had since come his voice unfaltering when he spoke to you of being an elf. You were thrilled and truely you would’ve been if he had chosen man over elf. Your time and his had come to sail to Valinor, to seek more knowledge and adventure in another land. The journey was calm and the sights were ethereal you never denied the beauty of Valinor but you were taken aback every inch left nothing more to be desired.

How beautiful the sky was colours of all sorts mixed in an explosion of stardust. The trees stood so proudly their green leaves swaying together in sync creating a pleasant rustling that appeased the ear. The grass greener than any you had ever seen, wildflowers sprouting out in clusters and mountains greater than giants sat in the evening sky.

“Y/n?” Your awe was replaced with a washing sense of anxiety. A chill ran through your bones and the colour quickly drained your face. A voice you wished and dreaded to hear sounded so familiar yet foreign you began to question your sanity. Your body turned around completely moving for itself against your will. Your eyes met the figure of the man you had missed so painfully since you left him. His hair parted neatly, thick strands resting upon his shoulders. His hands knitted together in anxiousness and a little anger and his eyes glazed over in disbelief. Everything about him made you want to turn against your better judgment and run into his arms crying apology after apology. You never knew the true extent of how much you missed Elrond until now.

@kasuomikori I can’t feel my fingers 💕💖💕💖💕💕

#elrond x reader angst #elrond x reader #elrond imagine #elrond angst #ansgt #elrond ansgt imagine #ask #request #the hobbit #elrond

108 notes · View notes

donteattheappleshook · 5 years ago

Text

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 13/14

As always, thank you Krystal @kmomof4 for all of your amazing beta work and for just being a lovely person. This story exists because of and is dedicated to you! (Thanks for the support even though I keep making you angry with all the angst!)

Tagging @teamhook because you asked :D

Here’s the last chapter before the epilogue! I can’t believe it’s almost over!

Summary:

Rated E

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 13 - New York

If you were here beside me, instead of in New York / If the curve of you was curved on me / I'd tell you that I loved you, before I even knew you / 'Cause I loved the simple thought of you

The tour was over. They were back. Everything was over.

Things had happened really quickly after that night. They cancelled the show and then every show after that for the rest of the summer. They’d refunded everyone, lost the income - she didn’t really know the semantics of how that had happened, Belle had handled all of that.

There had been rumors of course - rumors about why the tour was called off so suddenly. They ranged from one ridiculous explanation to another. The boys had fallen out, broken up, a drug scandal, the band wanting more money, someone was sick…

Emma ignored them for the most part - as much as she could anyway. It was hard to ignore them when she was constantly being reminded of everything she’d lost whenever she stepped outside and saw a magazine with his face on it. He was always hiding it in those pictures, looking away, his shoulders hunched, looking annoyed or exhausted. She didn’t recognize him half the time. There was none of the joy and excitement that had originally attracted her to him.

She’d gone back to Boston, back to her old apartment… like nothing had happened. But it had. Her life was different now. Now she had people recognizing her on the street, reporters and paparazzi hounding her with questions about why she’d left, if it had been because of her and Killian’s supposed romance. She told them to fuck off most of the time. She didn’t like fame, she found. Not the darker side of it she was seeing now, anyway.

The worst part was the social media. Angry, vicious people who hounded her online, angry because they thought she was dating Killian, angrier because they thought she had dumped him, angriest because they thought she was the reason the tour had ended. They called her names. They called her awful, worthless. Told her that she didn’t deserve Killian, that he deserved better, that her music was terrible. All thoughts she’d already had in the back of her mind, thoughts that she thought she’d finally overcome but that were slowly making themselves heard again. She’d had to delete her accounts eventually.

She’d had to quit her job too. It was hard to set a honey trap when everyone knew your face. It was hard to tail a skip when you were being tailed by cameramen. It wasn’t just cameramen and fans that were after her though. Since she’d gotten home, she’d been approached by seven producers, all of whom wanted to sign her and her band. Ruby and Mary Margaret were thrilled, they couldn’t understand why she was so hesitant. Well, actually, they probably could, but they were letting her believe they didn’t know.

It felt wrong, wrong to make music without him. It was ridiculous. She’d done it before him, she’d done it since him. But one of her favorite parts of writing had become the look that appeared on his face whenever she played something new for him, that proud, awed expression he would give her. And she missed him putting in his two cents. Missed the way he would casually pick at his guitar and create a verse that perfectly captured how she was feeling. She missed… she missed him.

But he was gone. He’d left. He’d told her he would in the bar and she’d walked away, abandoned once again, and then the same night he was on a plane. He hadn’t even come back to the room for his luggage - hadn’t come to say goodbye. You didn’t say goodbye either. It was true. She hadn’t said goodbye. She’d been the one to walk out of that bar. But he hadn’t followed, hadn’t asked her to come with him. It didn’t matter. He left, not her. Everyone left.

“You about ready to go?” Ruby asked, her voice holding that tone of sympathy so close to pity that it irked her. Emma looked once more at her apartment, the place she’d lived since leaving Storybrooke over six years ago. It was empty now.

She’d thought coming back to her old life would have made things easier, would have made it easier to move on, forget him, forget how he made her feel and how he’d broken her heart. But it hadn’t. The whole place just felt wrong now. Like it wasn’t home anymore. Home had become something else, not a place but people and now… that was gone too. She missed it. There was nothing left for her here anymore.

“Yeah,” she said, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They were on their way to New York. They were going there to - Emma could hardly believe it, hardly say the words - record an album. Emma had turned down most of the offers, hadn’t wanted anything to do with it. But it wasn’t just her decision. It was Ruby’s and Mary Margaret’s too. It was their life as well, their dream, their career. She didn’t know if she would ever want to be in the spotlight again - but she would try, for her friends.

But every producer that she met just reminded her of Neal - someone who was out to take what they could from her, use her for their own gain regardless of what she wanted. They didn’t care about music. They cared about profit. Only about profit.

But then Graham and David had introduced them to Robin, the man who had recorded their first album, the one who liked to set insanely high bars when it came to music. He was a man with standards and who insisted on hard work and dedication but at the same time… he got it. He was a musician himself and he understood the artistic side of it.

Not all of his artists were well known. Of course he cared about that to an extent - it was his livelihood - but he also had a few indie bands under his wing. He liked good music. That was it. He liked good music and wanted to share good music with the world and he wanted to share her music with the world.

He was sweet, Emma learned as well. A nice guy, funny and upbeat and charismatic. She’d never seen him get angry but she assumed he probably did a good fatherly ‘I’m disappointed in you’ thing that was way more effective than anger. She was looking forward to working with him. She just worried she wouldn’t live up to his standards - not anymore, not with how she was feeling.

When they’d agreed to sign on, Emma had a condition. She was tired of just being Emma Swan and her band. She was tired of all the bad things associated with her name now. She was tired of being front and center when her friends were just as much a part of this as she was. There was no way she could have done this alone. And her name drew too much attention too, something Robin thought they should use but Emma didn’t want to. They named themselves The Ugly Ducklings after a favorite childhood storybook. Her friends liked it. Liked that they felt more like a group now, like what they’d always been.

They settled into their new apartment pretty quickly. David and Graham already lived in New York most of the time so they had helped them find a place and did most of the heavy lifting during the move. It was strange to see them all the time, without the others. Belle and Liam had gone back to London with Killian. When he left for England. When he left her to go back to England.

She hadn’t heard from him. Not a word since that night in the bar. It had been two months. She’d now been away from him nearly as long as they’d been together. Who was she kidding, they’d been together all of five minutes before he left. That was a new record. Usually they stuck around for a little while after she decided to let herself lo- no. she didn’t want to think about it.

She’d given him space at first, hoped that he might reach out if he wanted her, if he needed her - her support or her presence or someone’s shoulder to cry on. But he hadn’t. And it hurt. He hadn’t asked her to come with him. He’d decided she didn’t matter enough and he’d left her behind. Maybe he’d decided he didn’t want to have someone so broken hanging around, being a burden while the case went on.

She knew a lot more about it than she wanted to. The story was all over the tabloids, all over the papers too. And maybe, she’d looked it up a few times online, worried about him, despite everything. The case was dragging on, more and more witnesses being called in, new evidence being ‘found’. It wasn’t just a decision about letting him out anymore. Gold had pushed for a mistrial, insisting he was innocent, wrongly convicted and that he should be acquitted of all charges. She couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Killian, to go through all of this again. But that wasn’t her place. If he’d wanted it to be her business he’d have asked her to go with him.

But something still irked her, more than all the hurt and the loss and the abandonment she felt… guilt. Guilt because she knew, on some level she knew what she’d done. She’d done what she always did. She ran from him, ran away from the possibility of love and of happiness because she’d been so afraid to lose it. The barest hint that he could walk away and she’d walked away first.

But he would have left eventually, she tried to convince herself. Maybe he wouldn’t have. But it was too late now. Now he was in London, regardless of who had run from whom, who had abandoned whom, he was gone now. He was thousands of miles away and he likely hated her - or worse, didn’t even think of her at all. It was broken. She’d broken it. She’d gotten scared and she’d fallen victim to those fears and she broke them.

But he hadn’t tried to fix it. She’d started counting on him trying to fix it and this time he hadn’t. He’d given up. One time too many. She’d messed it up one time too many and hurt him once too many and this was the consequence. It didn’t matter how much she wanted to run to him, to be with him, to be there for him. His silence spoke volumes. He was done with her.

“That was lovely, Emma,” Robin said as they finished recording the vocals for one of the tracks. “Can we try it again with a bit more energy?” he suggested. Emma wanted to laugh. She hadn’t had energy in over two months. Her life had been a blur, a sad, heavy cycle of empty day after empty day.

But she didn’t say that, instead she said “Yeah, sure,” and tried it again. She could tell from his face that it wasn’t much better.

“Perhaps we should move on to one of the ballads,” he suggested. “Let’s do the one you played at the last show - the one that went viral.”

“No,” Emma said quickly. Not that one. She couldn’t do that one. She couldn’t sing that one again - ever probably. She couldn’t sit here in a booth and sing about how she’d fallen in love with someone, had finally believed that she deserved to be loved. Not when that someone had ripped her heart out hours later, reminding her that she didn’t.

“I just mean…” she tried when Robin looked at her in surprise. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not feeling well today. Maybe we could just work on the music for now? Try the vocals again tomorrow?”

He looked at her like he didn’t believe her and she didn’t blame him - the lie had sounded shit to her own ears. But he nodded, giving her that same, sympathetic smile that Ruby had.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s call the others and see if they can get over here. Why don’t we work on the chorus to this one while we wait.” Emma agreed, thankful, and went to grab her guitar. She flinched when he spoke again. “It’s alright to miss him, you know,” he said.

Anger was her first emotion, her first after heartbreak but that was always there so it didn’t count. “Excuse me? You don’t know me,” she snapped. Robin only nodded, he didn’t flinch back at her bite like most did.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I know Killian. I know him pretty well actually and I know that he’s hurting now - more than I’ve ever seen him hurt before. I can hear it in his voice.”

Emma felt her eyes tearing but she fought it. She would not cry over Killian Jones, she’d done that enough already. Enough for a lifetime. She’d heard that he was struggling, that he was always anxious now, always quiet - that he missed her. Belle had said so on the phone. ‘How do you know?’ she’d asked and Belle had said she just did. Emma didn’t believe her. You didn’t just leave someone that you could miss like that. Unless she heard it from him she couldn’t believe any of it, it was just their friends trying to save something that was already broken. And she hadn’t heard anything from him.

“What does that have to do with me?” she demanded, not thrilled with the audacity of this guy she barely knew assuming he knew anything about her life.

He gave a sad smile. “When I produced Abandon Ship!’s first album, Killian had written a hit. Liam had shown it to me, I remember because he called at seven in the bloody morning to play it over the phone. When they came in to record it though… it was different. It was sadder, it was slower… he sounded like you when he sang it.” Emma’s breath caught. You left him first, a voice taunted.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out,” he continued. “I’ve heard enough bits and pieces from the guys and Ruby and Mary Margaret to piece together where that song came from, who it’s about.”

“What’s your point?” Emma asked, still angry but some of the venom gone from her voice, some of the fire dying out.

“My point is, perhaps it's time to stop writing sad songs about one another and to just… try.”

Emma’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I did try.” Robin smiled sadly again.

“My apologies,” he said. “It’s not my place.”

Graham and David had tagged along with Ruby and Mary Margaret, they were always tagging along now. It was hard. It felt almost like it should, all of them together, but they were missing a few crucial pieces. Having half of the whole there just made the missing half hurt more, made it more obvious that it was missing. She loved David and Graham, they’d become like brothers - but they were a reminder now. Whenever they walked in the room she’d catch herself looking behind them, looking for him to follow them in, only to be reminded that he wouldn’t.

Halfway through their session, when they were taking a break to have some lunch, David received a call. It was Belle on the other end and David put her on speaker. She updated them on their lives, on how the trial was proceeding - they’d hired a lawyer - a high power one that they hadn’t been able to afford when they were young and broke and the first trial happened. She thanked the guys for staying behind, for doing damage control while they were in London. Graham and David had done a hell of a lot of free shows to try and appease some of the bad press. Turned out David could sing. They’d also done a lot of press and appearances and charity events and she knew they were a little exhausted from all of it. Both Graham and David dismissed her thanks as unnecessary.

Emma was sitting awkwardly a few feet away, as far as she could get in the tiny back room of the recording studio, actively trying not to listen - actively failing. She could see that the others were trying to avoid drawing the conversation to him. But when Belle started to say that she was worried about Killian, and David awkwardly tried to hint that now wasn’t a good time, she heard Liam on the other end of the line.

“Is Emma there?” he asked and she felt her heart race. She hadn’t spoken to Liam since that night in the bar. She’d been too afraid to. Afraid he hated her now. With some reluctance, David said she was. “Put her on the phone,” Liam demanded and everyone looked at her uncomfortably. She could hear Belle begging her husband to leave it alone but he wouldn’t listen. “Emma, are you there?” he asked.

Her voice cracked the first time she tried to answer. She cleared her throat, tried again. “Yeah. I’m here.”

“Pick up the phone.” His tone left little room for discussion, even from hundreds of miles away.

Her palms were sweating as she walked over to the table where the phone rested, right there in the middle of all of her friends who were still staring at her with trepidation. They knew whatever was coming wasn’t good either. Liam was a force. She knew that. And he was angry. She nearly turned it off, touched the little red button and ran. But she didn’t. She was an adult. She could talk to another adult. She picked it up and took it off speakerphone.

There was a long weighted silence before Liam finally spoke. “You promised me, Emma.” he said.

“Liam, I-”

“No. All those months ago, I begged you, I begged you not to let him love you if you were going to leave. I told you what it would do to him. You promised me.”

Her words caught in her throat, trapped in the lump there as her eyes burned with tears. “I’m not the one who left,” she said and while she wasn’t looking at them she could feel the way the tension in the room grew at her words, everyone waiting on bated breath.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he snapped. “He needed you Emma. He loves you. He still needs you. Why aren’t you here?”

“I-” She didn’t know what to say. His anger was terrifying, his words cut deep and hurt. She knew he was right. She’d promised. But he’d left and he… the excuse felt weak even as she thought it now. He loves you. He still needs you, the words played over and over in her head. She struggled for something to say, some way to work through the pain and the self-preservation that were warring inside of her when she heard Belle's voice, muffled and far away. “Killian, you’re back. We-”

Emma hung up the phone. She hung it up and put it back on the table and grabbed her stuff and ran out of the room. Liam was right. She’d left. She kept leaving and she was going to do it again now. Because that’s what she did best. It’s what she’d always done. It kept her safe and it kept her from getting hurt… only this time, this time it hadn’t worked so well.

Ruby and Mary Margaret found her a few hours later on the couch in their living room where she’d been sitting since she got home. Wallowing. In guilt and heartbreak and fear and doubt. They approached her cautiously, feeling out the mood in the room before sitting down across from her on the coffee table. She could feel another ‘mom and mom’ speech coming on.

“Was Robin really mad?” she asked, realising the very serious possible consequences of walking out on a recording session when they were new and unknown and completely dependent on him wanting to keep them. Ruby waved a hand dismissively.

“He’ll get over it. He’s used to working with moody artists.” Emma glared but it had no heat behind it.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret started.

“Don’t,” Emma said. She didn’t want to hear it. She’d heard it from Liam already today, she’d heard it from people on the street and online. She got it. She was an asshole. But she didn’t know what to do about it. She was so so scared. Mary Margaret, always the sweeter of her sisters hesitated, but Ruby inhaled deeply and Emma prepared herself for the storm.

“No. Enough is enough. You’re being an idiot.”

“Ruby!” Mary Margaret was cut off.

“She is. You are. Look, we let you get away with it this long, we babied you and let you lick your wounds but really - We’re done. These aren’t even your wounds to lick.”

“He left!” she tried.

“Emma, grow up,” Ruby snapped and Emma reeled back like she’d been slapped.

“You’re being so selfish. Yes, he left. But he left because the psycho that killed his girlfriend was possibly going to walk free. He left because he had to. Where did you find him?”

“A bar…” she said weakly.

“That’s right. Doesn’t that give you a little sense of where his head might have been at?” Ruby’s words were harsh, her tone harsher and Emma wanted to run but she had nowhere to go. She was trapped, listening to her, letting herself be reamed out. She didn’t even have the energy to defend herself, didn’t have the leg to stand on either.

“He was hurting, rock bottom, as bad as you were when you saw Neal again - I’m gonna go ahead and say maybe worse. And yeah, his first thought wasn’t about you. So what did you do? You left him. He needed you and you left him there to go through it alone.”

“He’s not alone,” she tried.

“That’s not the same and you know it. Emma, I know you’re scared and you try to protect yourself and you have good reason to. And because of that we let you get away with a lot, because we love you. But this? You being this selfish because you’re afraid that you might get hurt? Making this about you and your fears when it should have been about supporting the man you love? I just…” She shook her head and Emma could feel the disappointment and even the shame radiating off of her. “He’s not Neal,” she said, looking at her with an expression Emma had never seen directed at her. “But right now… you are.”

The tears burned hot in her eyes. Ruby’s words were harsh, cruel even. But… they were right. Emma looked at Mary Margaret. She looked nervous but not like she had any intention of defending her and so Emma knew she agreed. And she should. Maybe she’d just needed it to be laid out like that, to be called out on it… but Ruby was right.

She’d let Killian in, let him care for her, maybe even love her. She’d encouraged him, let him think it was safe to give her his heart, to trust her with it. And then the moment he’d needed her, the first time he hadn’t only thought about her wellbeing and her fears and had fallen victim to his own… she’d left him. She’d run out of that bar like a bat out of hell because… what? He hadn’t asked her to come to London with him? He hadn’t outright told her he needed her? She was an idiot. She should have stayed, should have gone with him.

She thought about the night before, how she’d tried to push him away, gotten wasted at that bar on cheap whiskey and he’d stayed. Not because she’d asked him to but because he knew she needed him too, even when she was saying the opposite. And when it had been her turn to do the same… she’d run. She’d only thought of herself, let her insecurities take over, let herself be blinded. She’d been selfish. She’d abandoned him. He’d never have done that to her.

“What if it’s too late?” she asked, the first of her tears making their way down her cheeks. Ruby scowled at her for a moment but it stopped when she spoke again. “What if I hurt him too much, too many times, used up all my chances. What if I ruined it and I can’t fix it.”

“You can always fix it, Emma,” Mary Margaret spoke, putting her hand on Emma’s knee. “Love, true love can always be mended. It might not be the same after, but it can be stronger.” She must have seen the look Emma was giving her because she spoke again. “Don’t. I know you like to make fun of me for believing in true love but I’m not talking about some fairytale, predestined, meant to be garbage because that’s crap. If it’s really love then you have to work for it and fight for it and you have to go and admit that you fucked up and make things better, make amends. That’s love.”

“You just have to decide if you’re gonna fight for it or not,” Ruby said. Emma watched them both. She wanted to go. She did. Killian was the best thing that had ever happened to her and she had screwed it all up and she wanted it back, she wanted him back. How she felt about him, how he made her feel, how he made her laugh and smile, his weird obsessions and his stupid quirks and his constance and his baggage... she wanted it all back. But still, years, decades, a lifetime of letdowns wouldn’t let her, froze up with fear that she was wrong. With that last little doubt.

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore. What if he can’t forgive me?”

Ruby and Mary Margaret exchanged a look, eyes wide. “What if he doesn’t -” Ruby started in disbelief. “Show her the video, Snow.”

Mary Margaret took her phone out and fiddled with it for a moment. She turned it over then and handed it to Emma. The video was dated only two days ago. It was Killian, sitting on a little stage in a bar somewhere during what looked like an open mic. She could hear people in the back of the video whispering, wondering if that was him, what he was doing there. But she ignored them, focused on him.

He looked… sad. Sad and lonely and heartbroken and everything else she was feeling right now. His playing was still immaculate, his voice was still breathtaking, but he had none of the stage presence he usually did. It was like all the fun, all the carefree confidence and charisma had been drained out of him. He still held her attention though as he sang. Sang about a woman he missed, longed for, who wasn’t here with him… a woman who was in New York.

“Is that enough proof for you?” Ruby demanded.

Emma stood, walking past them and out of the room, adrenaline running through her veins, making her heart race and her fingers tremble. She headed straight for her room, could hear her friends following her as she grabbed clothes haphazardly out of her closet and some of the boxes she had yet to unpack. Where was her bag? She huffed and she searched for it. She knew she should have unpacked when Mary Margaret told her to.

“What are you doing?” Mary Margaret asked from the doorway.

“I’m going to London.”

***

Killian was tired. He was so tired. It had been months now of talking with lawyers, of turning down Gold’s lawyers offers to strike a deal. No. There were no deals. Gold would spend the rest of his life in prison for what he’d done. He’d taken the rest of Milah’s life away from her and Killian would be damned if the monster didn’t meet the same fate.

He was headed back to the flat he’d rented with Belle and his brother when they arrived. It was strange to be back. After nearly a decade of living in the States, of living in Boston and New York and even LA for a little while. It was strange to be home. Although it wasn’t really home was it?

He’d learned long ago that home wasn’t a place. It was the people that were around him. He had his brother, his sister-in-law, he spoke to Graham and David regularly on the phone, even to Ruby and Mary Margaret sometimes… but not to her. He thought he’d found one, a new home, one they all could have made for themselves, one he could have made with her. But then it had been ripped away from him. No, not ripped. She’d taken it, walked away with it and left him behind, empty and alone to suffer through all of this. Not alone technically but… it wasn’t the same.

Today had been the first day of the actual trial. After months of preparation he had finally gotten to sit in that witness box and tell the world what a terrible, inhuman being that man was. He told them how Milah had planned to tell her husband she was leaving him that night, how she’d gone home to do so.

After not hearing from her for nearly 24 hours, he’d gone to her home, somewhere he’d never been before out of fear of her husband finding out. He hadn't truly understood her fear when they were happy and together. But he understood it then, when he found her. He told the jury about the blood, about the way she’d just been left there, tossed aside while Gold left the city. This wasn’t manslaughter, he told the jury though he knew he couldn’t change the verdict now, was reminded of it by the judge. But he said it anyway. It hadn’t been a crime of passion. It had been the cold-blooded act of a man who refused to lose something he believed belonged to him, believed he owned.

The cross-examination had been worse. Horrible, cruel questions that you shouldn’t ask someone who had lost the love of their life. Maybe not of their whole life, a little voice had piped up, but he shut it down. He couldn’t think of that. He was already spending his days reliving losing his first love. He didn’t want to be reminded that he’d lost his second, the woman that he thought might be his true love - all sappiness be damned. But she’d walked away, she’d decided not to choose him. Killian had only loved two women in his life, and both had left him. It just hurt all the more that Emma left by choice.

He’d replayed that night over and over in his head. Remembered how close he’d come to opening that bottle. He’d walked there in a daze, the recall to that time bringing back memories of the man he’d once been and he let himself step back into that man’s shoes. That man had led him straight to a bar. He’d warred with himself, he’d won. But he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. Not when with every passing day he was reminded of how Milah had been taken from him. Not when with every passing moment he saw Emma again, walking out of that bar and out of his life… again.

He’d believed her. Believed her when she'd said that she wanted to be with him, that she’d wanted to stay. But then, after one look at the darker side of him, the moment they’d faced a challenge, the moment he’d needed her most, she’d run. It felt like someone was ripping out his heart every time he thought of it. He hadn’t been enough. He’d let himself believe he was and then she’d proven him wrong.

The pain and the heartbreak turned to anger more often than he’d have liked to admit. And he was angry with her. Angry with her for giving up on him, for giving up on them so easily. But also for disappearing from his life so completely. He could understand that she didn’t want his love anymore. But they had been friends hadn't they? Why hadn’t she reached out? Why hadn’t she called him? Why was she never around when he called Graham or David? Ruby and Mary Margaret sure seemed to be around all the damn time.

She’d disappeared, cut herself out of his life completely, and it hurt. Yes, he loved her, but he’d also grown to count on her, on her being there, on the way she made him laugh and the way she challenged him. He needed her support. But she wasn’t there. She hadn’t just left him - she’d abandoned him and that thought hurt more than any. She knew what it meant to be abandoned. She knew what she was doing to him, how it would break him, especially now when he needed her so much. She'd done it anyway.

That was the worst part. The fact that despite all his anger and her abandonment and the fact that sometimes he wanted to curse her name… he still needed her. He missed her. He loved her. He tried to stop but he couldn’t and that made it worse. She’d let him fall in love with her, had led him to believe that she could love him too and then she’d changed her mind - and he couldn’t.

He still wrote about her. But as angry and hurt as he was, he couldn’t put it into words, something stopped him every time. Instead all of his songs came out longing and heartbroken and full of love and loss - but never anger, never hate. And he knew it was because no matter what he did, his heart wouldn’t stop wanting her, missing her. And so he was left here to mourn her and hate her while the ever growing ache in his chest reminded him that he would probably never stop loving her.

That was the thought that was itching at the back of his mind as he walked up the last step to their fourth floor flat - the lift was somehow always broken. He rounded the corner towards his front door as he dug his keys out of his pocket. He looked up and froze, the keys falling through his fingers and onto the ground at his feet.

Emma. Emma was standing outside his door, a bag in her hands and bags under her eyes. She looked nervous. She saw him and her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the strap of her duffle. His thoughts were reeling. What was she doing here? Why now? After all this time? Why hadn’t she come sooner? What could she possibly want from him now? But he didn’t voice any of them. His mouth had forgotten how to form words and so he stood there, slack jawed and dumbfounded like an idiot.

“Hi,” she said after a long, tense moment.

“Hi,” he answered because it was the only word his stupid bloody mouth seemed to be able to form. She didn’t say or do anything else, just stood there, waiting. He didn’t know what for. Someone walked by then, cast them both a strange look and it snapped him out of his thoughts a little. He picked up his keys and stepped up to the lock.

“We should probably go inside,” he told her. The walls had ears here and he didn’t want this - whatever it was - to end up on the front page of the Sun in the morning. She nodded but didn’t say anything as he fiddled with the key. She was so close. He could feel her next to him and it affected him the way it always did. He wanted to touch her, to pull her into his arms, to kiss her, to ask her to hold him and let him cry over all that had happened.

But he couldn’t. That wasn’t who she was to him anymore. He didn’t know why she was here. And seeing her again felt like having his heart broken all over again. He couldn’t handle it anymore. It had been too much pain. Between her and Milah's memory he'd suffered more pain than any man should have to take in a lifetime, let alone in a few months. So he took a page out of her book - he got angry, he put his own walls up. Angry was safe and it hurt a hell of a lot less to look at her from behind the glass around his heart.

She followed him wordlessly into the flat, into the kitchen where she dropped her bag on the floor. He opened the fridge, really wishing he could have a beer right now - or some rum, rum was always best. He clenched his fist and tried to calm it before pulling out two water bottles - a poor substitute - and handing one to her. She took it hesitantly, standing on the opposite side of the island from him. She only stared at him as they both didn’t drink and finally he couldn’t take it anymore and he spread his hands on the counter, hung his head as his knuckles turned white.

“Why are you here?” he asked, not able to look at her, not wanting to see the expressions play out on the face that he loved, the one that drew him in so easily. She left. She left, he repeated to himself. She didn’t answer at first and he was forced to look at her.

“I came for you,” she said and he wanted to laugh. Now? Now she came for him?

“Why?” he asked again and he saw it this time when the doubt flashed in her eyes. She took a deep, steadying breath and reached out her hand, placing it over his own. His own breath caught in his throat, her touch feeling like it was searing through his skin.

“You know why,” she said and it made his blood boil. He ripped his hand away.

“No, Emma, I don’t,” he snapped and saw the shock on her face. “I don’t bloody know why you’re here. You left me in that bar two months ago. You just left and then I never saw you again. You ignored me for weeks. After -” the words got stuck. “After everything that happened between us. You changed your mind and you just - god, you just fucking abandoned me there, didn’t you?” He saw the hurt in her eyes and it egged him on. Good. It was about time she hurt too, after everything she’d put him through. “My life has been hell, Emma, and right now I’m too tired to try and figure out what you’re doing here so please tell me or just leave.”

“I -” she started and he fought the guilt he felt at the way her eyes cast down, the way her shoulders slumped. She’d made this decision. Not him. Yes, he’d come back to London, but she’d chosen not to come with him, had walked away the second he told her his plans. She’d ignored him. That hurt the most. “I’m sorry,” was all she said.

“Well, that’s great, you’re sorry. You didn’t have to fly all the way across the world just to tell me that.” He saw her hesitate and it made him stop. There was something in her expression that made him think that wasn’t all she’d come to say.

She was looking at him like… like she’d looked at him that morning in his hotel room, the morning she said she wanted to try. He hated the way his heart raced in his chest, the way hope swelled there even after all she’d done.

“What did you come here to say, Emma?” he asked, his tone softer now than it had been a moment ago, but his shoulders were still tense, he still held himself back from her, on edge and afraid of the havoc he knew she could reap on his heart.

“That I-” she started quickly, rashly but she stopped and he saw the way her walls slammed up, holding her back. He hung his head. She couldn’t say it. She’d never been able to say it and she probably never would. What did she want from him? To come back and let him be her dirty little secret again? Because that’s what he’d been. She’d used him and he’d let her and then the second they even thought about being more, she’d looked for an excuse to run and she’d found one.

“Just go,” he said, his tone defeated. “Please.”

“Killian..”

“Please,” he repeated. “I appreciate you coming here and saying you’re sorry. But Emma, I can’t sit here and wait for you to be able to tell me how you feel, for you to decide that you want this to be real. Because I don’t even think you know if you do. I waited for you while you protected yourself, but I think now it’s time for me to protect myself. So please, just go,” he said.

He couldn’t look at her so he didn’t see the look on her face when she stepped back, when she picked up her bag and she walked out of the flat. He stood there for a long time after she’d left. And the longer he did the angrier he became. But not at her. At himself.

He’d accused her of not being able to admit how she felt, and maybe she hadn’t but he’d forgotten one, fundamental thing about Emma… She didn’t use words to express her feelings - she never had. Even with Ruby and Mary Margaret he rarely heard her admit how much she cared about them but she showed it with gestures, with thoughtful gifts and physical touch and by going out of her way sometimes or doing things she didn’t like just to make them happy.

He thought about the first time she’d showed him she cared, when they’d made love in that hotel room the night of Liam’s birthday, when she’d smiled at him at breakfast. He remembered how she’d struggled to tell him she liked him in the dressing room but he’d believed her because he knew already - because she showed him in her own way, by kissing him in front of their friends and holding his hand as they walked into a crowded party - and then again when they walked into the breakfast room to meet their friends. She’d written music with him, had helped him with his own songs, had let herself be vulnerable with him, let him see her fears and let him in as he helped her write… Even before all of that, she'd held his hand on the plane when he'd been scared, she'd taken him on the ferris wheel and won him that stupid giant bear. All this time, she'd been showing him and he'd been blind to it.

He was an idiot. Emma had flown to London. Yes, it had taken her a while to get here. Yes, she’d doubted him and she’d gotten scared. But she’d flown thousands of miles to come find him, to be with him. Maybe she hadn’t been able to tell him how she felt but in Emma’s language… he was a goddamn idiot. She’d flown to London for him. He didn’t need her to make a confession of love. She already had.

He rushed to the door but he knew it was too late. He ran down the hallway, down the stairs and out onto the street. But she was gone. Fuck. Fuck! He called her phone. It went straight to voicemail. He called Belle, called Liam, neither of them even knew she was coming. He called Ruby and Mary Margaret and David and Graham. Nobody knew where she was staying. The trip hadn’t exactly been planned ahead of time, Ruby pointed out. They promised to try to reach her but that she’d told them her phone was dying when she called to tell them she landed an hour ago.

He walked around town aimlessly, his heart racing every time he saw a blonde woman only to be dismayed when it wasn’t her. How many goddamn blondes were there in this city? He got a call from Ruby a little later telling him she’d spoken to her and that she was staying in a hostel in the city. She gave him the name. Said she’d told Emma he was looking for her.

He ran there. Not caring about the weird looks he got for running through the streets of London in jeans and a leather jacket. He was an idiot. He just had to hope that he hadn’t screwed it up so badly that he couldn’t fix it.

He got to the hostel and asked about her. The guy at the counter refused to tell him anything, something about customer safety which, yes, he understood that made sense but it really didn’t help him in his current predicament. He tried to bargain with the guy, tried to plead his case, but he wouldn’t budge.

He sighed, finding an armchair in the lounge and collapsing in it, his head falling into his hands.

“Hey, man,” a woman said and he turned to look at her. She was a young Asian woman, probably a few years younger than him with her hair in boxing braids. She had an American accent and a giant backpack at her feet. He raised a brow at her. “That girl you’re looking for. She about yea-high, blonde, total knockout?” she asked, holding her hand up beside her.

“Aye,” he said, hesitant but hope sparking in his chest. “Have you seen her?” he asked almost desperately.

“That depends,” the woman crossed her arms, looking impressively threatening for her age and size. “Did you hurt her?”

“No!” he answered quickly, then hesitated. “Well, not physically. But I did hurt her - that’s why I’m looking for her.”

“Are you gonna hurt her again?” she asked, raising a brow in a way that mirrored his signature move.

“I bloody hope not,” he said with a sigh. “Please, I’m just trying to make amends. I was an idiot and a tosser and I’m hoping she’ll forgive me, but I can’t ask her to if I never see her again.” The woman looked him over once with a little more judgement in her expression than Killian was really comfortable with. Then she smiled slightly, more of a smirk really.

“I always like a man who can admit he’s an idiot,” she said. “She was looking for some bar,” she continued, pulling out her phone. “The one from this video,” she turned the screen so he could see it and his heart pounded against his ribs. “I told her it’s-”

“That’s okay,” he said, standing. “I know where it is.”

She looked at him strangely before glancing down at the video again. “Oh hey, is that you?” she asked with genuine surprise.

“Aye,” he said. “Thank you…”

“Mulan,” she supplied. “I hope you find her.”

“Me too,” he admitted. As he left he heard her call out behind him.

“When you find her, tell her the whole you’re an idiot thing! You’d be surprised! It goes a long way!” He felt the smile tugging at his lips.

He walked into the bar. He knew it well, it was familiar territory for him. It was a little dingy, the drinks were cheap and carding wasn’t really a thing. Neither was cutting people off which was why it had been one of his favorite places when he was younger, and when he was a drunk. But he’d come back to it recently because it was familiar, because it was one of the first places he and Liam and Graham had played in (before they’d met David). And, because it had open mic nearly every night which meant he could just go up there when he needed a break from the real world, when he needed to let himself get lost in music for a bit.

He’d been on that stage most nights this week. The owner hadn’t complained, he’d actually brought in business now that word had gotten out that one of the Jones brothers was playing there. He was starting to think he’d have to find a new place soon. The point was to blow off steam and feel like a human being again, not to be hounded by people who wanted pictures with him and women who wanted to take him home.

He’d almost accepted a few of those offers in the first few weeks after he got here, after the preparation for the trial started and missing Emma became unbearable. But he hadn’t. One vice just led to another and it wasn’t a path he wanted to go down. And he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He might have thought that Emma had left him but he couldn’t even imagine sleeping with another woman now that he’d known her. It felt wrong. Like a betrayal, despite everything. And he knew it would only leave him empty.

He made his way inside, finding a table near the door so that he could see her if she walked in. He cast a glance around the room but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. That was alright. He would wait. He would wait here until she came in, and if she didn’t come in then he would go back to her hostel and wait there, and if he didn’t find her there then he would bloody fly back to New York and tell her he was an idiot in America.

He had only been sitting there for a little while, drinking a rumless coke when he saw her, not at the door, but getting up on stage, borrowed guitar in hand by the looks of it. He sat up straighter, his heart racing in his chest as she settled on the stool and looked up, right at him. She didn’t look surprised. A small, hesitant smile crossed her face, despite the anxiety and the fear on it.

His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his body at this point. Had she known he would come here? Ruby had told her he was looking for her, she’d come to the bar he played in. She’d gone on stage just minutes after he arrived. She’d expected him. Only now he had no idea what to expect. Would she be angry, hurt, had he broken this beyond repair?

“Hi,” she said into the mic and a couple of heads glanced up to look at her. He was fixated. She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze moving around the room uncomfortably. “Um, so,” she hesitated in that way she always did when she was nervous, when she had to voice her feelings. “Someone accused me today of not being able to admit how I feel... And that’s actually pretty true. I’m really shitty at talking about feelings - I’m shitty at feeling them honestly. But, this person helped me with that, with a lot of stuff.”

Killian heard a whispered “Is that Emma Swan?” as more people gave her their attention.

“I was always really afraid of love because it’s only ever hurt. So I put up some walls to keep it out. But I don’t want to keep it out anymore.” She finally looked at him and he felt her gaze in his chest, in his gut, in his heart. He smiled at her, a little, nervous, hopeful thing, and she continued. “I fucked up. I really fucked up and I’m just hoping that you can forgive me and that some part of you still feels the way you did two months ago in that hotel room because…” she hesitated, looking down before lifting her eyes back to his. “Because I love you.”

Killian sat there, awestruck and slack jawed. She loved him. She loved him and she’d said it - in front of all these people, in front of all the cameras that had come out when she’d started speaking. His whole body felt numb, like he had no control of his limbs or his fingers. But then she started playing and the song, the lyrics, the memories rushed into his bones and his skin and his blood, filling him and bringing him back to life, to her. To Emma.

“Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said you’re holding back. She said shut up and dance with me.”

He stood, walking across the bar like a sailor drawn to a siren. He didn’t care about the whispers in the room, people recognizing him, the people filming and taking pictures and gossiping. All he could think of was her and the stupid, ecstatic smile on his face, making his cheeks hurt. As he got closer her own smile grew, doubt melting away in her eyes and replaced with an expression he’d seen there so many times before but hadn’t recognized, love. She loved him.

He hopped up on stage, not caring that he was cutting off her song and she barely had time to stand before he caught her face in his hands and kissed her hard and long to the soundtrack of cheers from the bar patrons. He felt her arms slide up his chest, felt her hands grab hold of the lapels of his jacket as her lips curled against his own, laughter bubbling out of her as he kissed her the way he’d wanted to for months. He’d missed her so damn much and now she was here in his arms and she loved him and he was never going to let her go again.

They pulled apart when a wolf whistle cut through the air, making them laugh. Killian looked down at her, into her eyes that were shiny with happiness and with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot.”

She shook her head this time. “I love you,” she said again and he felt it fill his entire body.

“I know,” he smiled at her, at the way she rolled her eyes and smacked his chest in annoyance, trying to pull away despite the way her lips turned up. He held her fast, bringing those rolling eyes back to his. “I love you,” he told her and it felt like heaven to finally get to say those words, to finally say it out loud. She smiled, took hold of his hand that was still cupping her cheek, kissed his palm and he felt her love, words or not.

“I know,” she teased and he smiled. Because she did know. She’d known for a long time, she’d been able to read him like an open book from the beginning. He’d just taken a little longer to understand that she’d been right there with him all along.

He glanced around the room, hearing the people who were still excitedly going on about them, some of them knowing who they were, some not but caught up in the moment. He looked back at her, a little worried, knowing she liked her private life private, that that wouldn’t be an option with him.

“You sure about this, Swan?” he questioned. “I don’t think we’ll be able to hide this from the rest of the world.”

She didn’t say anything, she just kissed him again in front of a couple dozen screaming fans. He pulled her into his arms. Trial be damned, distance and time be damned, five years and running and pain and whatever else was to come be damned. He loved her and she loved him and finally, after all this time, he didn’t need to doubt it anymore. He didn’t need to doubt anything anymore. Because he knew now that he would be okay. He had her. Everything else just faded away.

#cs fanfiction #captain swan fanfiction #of cars and bars #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #cs angst #captain swan angst #captain swan smut #cs smut #cs au #captain swan au

12 notes · View notes