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illegal-spiegel · 4 years ago

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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?”

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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.

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spookyboywhump · 3 years ago

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Death

Oh boy here we are. Here’s what I have to present for the @summer-of-whump day 12 prompt Death, aka, the prompt that made me want to take on this challenge. I feared I wouldn’t be done with it today but he we are, with that sweet sweet emotional whump

CW: Parental death, sibling death, child abuse, verbal abuse, suicidal ideation, brief mention of deadnaming, all of it is under a cut because Eli’s mom starts off mean right away

***

“You know, for a long time, we thought you were going to be stupid.”

Eli looked up from the paper he was working on, taking a moment to process what his mother had just said. She usually didn’t talk to him much when he came to visit, ever since Everett had stopped coming she’d gotten even colder towards him. He spent most of his time working on homework in between getting her anything he could and doing favors for her, especially with finals coming up fast. He put down his pencil, sitting up straighter in the chair he sat in beside her bed.

“Why… why do you say that…?”

“You didn’t talk when you were little. I don’t think you did until you were three or four, no matter what we tried. We started to think you would never learn.”

“I talked to Everett…” He didn’t have a lot of memories that far back, but he remembered babbling away to Everett, and going silent when his parents were around. According to his brother, his first word had been an attempt at saying his name, but it came out as “Ev’ett”. He shorted it to Ev to make it easier on Eli.

“That’s what he said too, but we never heard it. You didn’t start talking to us until just before your father left.” He resisted the urge to make a sad joke about driving him away.

“Oh… I don’t see how that could’ve meant I was stupid…” He muttered, looking down at his paper again.

“Clearly it didn’t. I was so relieved that you turned out smart. Your brother tried his best but he was never really good at school, not the way you are.”

“I… thanks…?” He wasn’t sure if it was exactly a compliment or not, it was always hard to tell with her.

“Speaking of your brother,” She said, and he tried to hide the pain on his face when she turned to look at him, “Have you heard from him…?” She asked, sounding hopeful, and it broke his heart.

“No, I’m sorry…” He said softly. She looked even more upset, and he felt sick with guilt. He knew what happened to Everett, of course he knew, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he’d heard the news, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell his mom the truth. He didn’t know what it would do to her, to hear that her favorite son was dead.

“I wish he were here…”

“I do too.” He wished that more than anybody else, he would’ve given anything to have Everett there. He felt like he needed him more than ever now that he was gone. He felt worse and worse when he looked at her, she looked sick and upset all the time, she was sick, and he couldn’t imagine what she must’ve been feeling, not knowing where Everett was. Eli had been wrestling with it ever since he found out, he didn’t know if it was better or worse to keep the truth to himself.

“He was always easier to talk to than you.” She said, a bitter edge to her voice that made his heart sink. He opened his mouth but didn’t have anything to say, his hand clenching into a fist. “I wish he were here. Whatever happened to him, it should’ve been you.” She said, giving him a look of pure disdain. “I’d trade you for him in a heartbeat.”

He didn’t say anything at first, stunned into silence, frozen in place as her words sunk in.

It should’ve been you.

You should be dead, not him.

She’s right.

He stood up abruptly, grabbing his things and furiously shoving them into his backpack. He was shaking, a wave of anger washing over him.

“Fine.” He said, hardly even in control of what he said. “I don’t need to be here then.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder, not even looking at her as he left. She was calling his name- not his name, it had been changed for two years now and she still didn’t bother, which only made him angrier. She didn’t sound apologetic, just irritated, which drove him away quicker, storming out of the room and leaving the hospital.

He was shaking with anger as he waited at the bus stop, he couldn’t remember the last time she’d pissed him off this much. It likely wasn’t even that long ago, but this seemed to have finally crossed a line, being the worst thing she’d said to him thus far. He couldn’t brush it off, the words felt like a weight on his shoulders, It should’ve been you.

The bus ride home was a blur, lost in his own miserable thoughts. He was getting more and more upset the longer he dwelled on it, and by the time he got home he was slamming the front door behind him, doing the same when he walked into his bedroom, throwing his backpack on his bed so hard it smacked against the wall. At least he didn’t have anything valuable in there.

He dropped onto his desk chair, taking his phone from his pocket. A part of him still desperately hoped he’d check it and see Everett’s name pop up, but of course there wasn’t anything. He dropped his phone onto the desk and tested his elbows on it, burying his face in his hands. For once he was so mad he couldn’t even cry, which was extremely rare for him. He just sat there, trembling, trying and failing to calm down.

She’s right. She’s right. It’s should’ve been me, I shouldn’t be here, I don’t fucking deserve to be here.

After some time he grabbed his backpack, pulling out half finished papers and a textbook, trying to distract himself. It wasn’t helping as much as he wanted, but it was still better than nothing. He just needed time to calm down, he knew that. He got mad at his mom all the time, but after a day or two he’d be over it, or at least, too tired to care anymore, and then he’d be able to go back, and the cycle would repeat.

He knew it wasn’t his best work as he did it, but at least it was mind numbing enough he finally stopped shaking. He took a quick break from it after a few hours, wandering around the small apartment, searching through the kitchen for something to eat. He didn’t find anything, and he tried to tell himself he wasn’t hungry anyway, eventually returning to his room.

The words didn’t leave the back of his mind but as the hours passed he grew more and more numb to them, filing them away with the rest of the hurtful things she’d said to him. Disappointment, unwanted, annoying, needy, “Should’ve been you”. He could imagine how angry Everett would’ve been to hear that, he would’ve comforted him, he would’ve spoken to their mother about it. It wouldn’t have fixed anything, but at least he cared.

Eli considered himself an atheist, but he found himself wondering if there was some sort of afterlife the way some people talked about it, about loved ones watching over you. He wondered if such a thing existed, and if it did, if Everett had heard that. He almost hoped not, he didn’t need to be worrying over Eli anymore. There wasn’t anything he could do now anyway.

It was late that night, he was only still awake because he knew trying to go to bed would make everything come back, make him feel even worse. At some point his phone rang, causing him to jump, startled by the sound. Nobody ever called him but Everett and their mom, he didn’t recognize the number immediately but he answered anyway with a hesitant, “H-hello…?”

Whatever he was expecting to hear, it wasn’t what the person told him. In fact he seemed to only pick up on the important parts, everything else drowned out by the pounding of his own heart.

”She’s not doing well”... “Should come say goodbye”... “best to do so as soon as possible…”

He wanted to say that was impossible. She was fine when he left that afternoon, there was no way her condition could’ve gotten that bad that quickly. No, it wasn’t impossible, there had been a scare before, but that’s all it was, just a scare, something she recovered from. Surely she’d recover from this too, right? She’d recover and they would go back to having a tense relationship. A part of him felt tempted to go though, just in case.

“Whatever happened to him, it should’ve been you.”

“I can’t.” He blurted out. He didn’t have a reason for it, while he was typically good at lying he was at a complete loss here. “I can’t.” He repeated, and without waiting for them to respond, he hung up, sitting there as silence settled over him. He was shaking again, he realized, and he set his phone down on the desk, taking a slow, shuddering breath.

He couldn’t do it right now. He knew he couldn’t see her without breaking down completely, without snapping and starting a fight. Quite honestly though, he didn’t want to see her anyway. He usually minimized the things she said to him, brushed them off and told himself they weren’t that bad but this was bad. She didn’t know what happened to Everett, she couldn’t have known what she was saying, but still, when she said the words “it should’ve been you” all he heard was “you should be dead.”

He knew that she was right. He agreed completely. But that didn’t make it easier on him, and that didn’t make him anymore inclined to see her in what may be her final moments.

He stayed right there all night, sitting cross legged in his desk chair, tense and angry and upset. The sun was rising and he was still sitting there, knowing he should be at the hospital, knowing he should be more worried than he actually was.

It was exactly 7:32 a.m. when his phone rang again. He was numb when he answered it, and deep down he already knew what he was going to hear.

”I’m so sorry”... “We did everything we could”... “She’s passed away.”

***

It seemed as if he had shut down, because the reality of her death didn’t hit him until months later. By that point he’d started working, moved into a new, nicer apartment, he didn’t have to rely on his father anymore which meant they never spoke.

I’m completely alone.

He was laying in bed, staring up blankly at his ceiling. He still hasn’t unpacked most of his things, the room was filled with boxes. He really only had his bed and his desk, his clothes, and his important stuffed animals. His apartment was silent, the walls were thicker in this building so he couldn’t hear every little thing going on around him.

I don’t have any family. Any friends. Just myself.

He clutched his shark close in one arm, and the other hand tightly gripped his blanket. Tears welled up in his eyes, all the pain and grief he’d bottled up since Everett’s death finally overflowing.

I’m all alone.

My family is dead.

It should’ve been me.

#whump #my writing #summerofwhump12 #my oc’s #Wren #parental death tw #sibling death tw #child abuse tw #verbal abuse tw #suicidal ideation

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stxphxn-strange · 4 years ago

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spun sugar (written for the ironstrange fanfic challenge)

Summary: He didn’t feel like going out, but he needed a distraction. Nothing would be able to take his mind off of the phone call he was waiting for, the call he knew would never come. Not even a double date to the carnival with Anthony, Hope, and Christine kept him focused today, and he was actually starting to need a distraction from his distraction.

a/n: just a heads up that this fic is on the heavier side of angsty so please be careful and safe! tw: for homophobia/mentioned use of slurs, outing, death (drowning), and family issues, and i think that’s it

Today felt like the world’s longest deja vu episode. It felt like standing in line at a carnival for hours, only to spin endlessly on one of those teacup rides. Everything was an unbreakable cycle of doubt, confusion, anger, and the old familiar self loathing. So for Stephen, it was just Thursday.

She didn’t forget.

She probably forgot!

She didn’t forget. She didn’t call on purpose.

She knows what today is.

She doesn’t want to talk to me.

I don’t want to talk to her either, and yet I still wish she’d call. Maybe then I could pretend that things are sort of okay.

Stephen sighed, completely tuning out his professor. He hadn’t been paying attention all class and wasn’t going to start now. There were more important things to be thinking about, like the nap he was going to take when he got home, or the fact that it was Victor’s birthday.

It was Victor’s birthday, and Stephen wanted to plan some sort of surprise call and later invite his brother to visit him in the city. Eugene immediately took to the idea and offered to help plan it and reach out to more of the family, but there was a catch. Of course Beverly had to be involved in some capacity. Even if she didn’t want to be associated with her older son, her younger one was near and dear to her heart and she wouldn’t hesitate to do anything for him. Except this, apparently, because that would involve speaking to Stephen. The med student didn’t expect to hear back from his mother and truthfully never expected a lot from her generally, but his hopes were still up.

Waste of time. She doesn’t need me.

She doesn’t even want me.

Stephen checked the time again. His lecture would be over in 15 minutes, and the next one started in half an hour. That gave him enough time to grab a coffee and call his dad on the walk across campus, and to make the time pass now he’d organize his inbox.

Most of his messages weren’t surprising (they were mainly just calendar invites and the occasional email from Anthony with an article Stephen might like) or even worth reading, but Stephen was a bit surprised when Eugene called him first. He had a solid relationship with his dad, but it was still unfamiliar for Stephen to have his family approach him first. Usually it went the other way around.

“I was just about to call you,” he said. “What’s going on? Mom never told me when the family call is”

“That’s the bad news,” Eugene replied. “Your mom changed the plan.”

“So she shut me out? Again? Is that what I’m supposed to understand?” Stephen asked, his voice cracking like the thinnest sheet of winter ice under heavy footfalls. “I didn’t do anything.”

Eugene sighed. “I’m sorry.” That was all the confirmation Stephen needed.

“What happened?” He asked. “She would do anything to make Victor happy, even if it means acknowledging me as part of the family.”

“Which you are,” Eugene argued.

“Not according to Mom, and you know that,” Stephen replied. “Please just tell me what happened, my next class starts soon.”

“Your aunt called to wish Victor a happy birthday and then was chatting with your mom about the family, as they do. I think she asked your mom how you were doing and how your love life in school was going, but at that point I wasn’t really listening. You know that your aunt is one of my few in-laws I actually tolerate, maybe even like, and today she proved exactly why. Claudia said something about you, and based on your mom’s reaction it wasn’t what she wanted to hear,” Eugene explained. “She knows you’re gay and is really happy for you, against your mom’s expectations and wishes that she’d be ashamed.”

“That was the first time they’ve talked about my sexuality, right? Because I never came out to her. I assume Maxwell brought it up for some reason because I came out to him years ago. Why he’d bring it up now, I don’t know,” Stephen replied.

“As far as I know, this is the first time Claudia brought it up. I assume if they’d talked about it before, your mother would’ve gotten angry or cut her off. She wasn’t happy today,” Eugene said bluntly. It wouldn’t do any good to sugarcoat the truth when Stephen already knew all of this.

“Great! Mom’s already mad enough at me for coming out and being proud of myself. I bet I ruined her relationship with Aunt Claudia because I blabbed and Maxwell clearly takes after Mom since he outed me for no reason!” Stephen snapped. He took a deep breath, his head spinning. “Sorry for yelling, Dad.”

“I don’t need you to apologize. You have every right to be hurt, for a lot of reasons,” Eugene said. “But to make a long story short, she told me flat out that she wouldn’t be talking to you today and then left for work at the same time she always does.”

“Can I talk to Victor at least? I don’t care if she doesn’t want to talk to me, but I can’t ignore him,” Stephen pleaded. “I can’t not be there for him on his birthday, that’s cruel!”

“I know you want to be there for your brother, it’s okay. That’s the good news and why I called you. Give me a minute,” Eugene replied.

Stephen mumbled some kind of response, slowly but impatiently shifting his weight from side to side. He was thinking about blowing off the rest of his classes for the day, emotional exhaustion overtaking him. He could usually power through things like this, as he was used to his mother steadfastly refusing to accept him. Today she and her hatred actively prevented Stephen from wishing his little brother a happy birthday, and that was too damn much. The fact that his cousin suddenly outed him almost three years after Stephen came out was only making him angrier. Stephen always tried to do the best that he could for his family, especially his younger sibling(s), and was even more protective of Victor in the wake of Donna’s death. All he wanted was to look after everyone he cared about, and his sexuality didn’t negatively affect his protective oldest child instincts. If anything it made them stronger because Stephen always wanted to be an ally for his siblings. He would always stand up for them when they needed.

Sometimes he felt like he failed Donna, despite his best efforts to keep her safe and make her happy. Stephen couldn’t fail Victor and let their mother’s actions come between them. He wouldn’t. He looked at his phone to distract himself, editing his coffee order to include a latte for Anthony. He was usually home around this time and would more than likely appreciate the surprise coffee.

Thinking of his boyfriend, the love of his life and his person, made Stephen smile just enough to prevent him from sobbing in the middle of Starbucks.

Two (2) minutes that felt like an eternity later, Victor came to the phone. “Hello?”

“Happy birthday Vic!” Stephen forced a smile, hoping some cheer could be detected in his voice.

“Thank you,” Victor replied with an emotion that Stephen couldn’t place.

“Sorry I couldn’t be there today or join the family call. I wanted to be part of the call at least, but…”

“It’s okay. I know you care, and I know you wouldn’t forget my birthday just because you’re busy.”

“Right… busy!” Stephen’s laugh was forced. “I would never miss your birthday, and not just because I have a flawless memory.”

“I was just starting to miss you until you said that. Damn shame.”

“Not only is today your birthday, it’s apparently also the start of you acting like the smartass you‘ve grown up to be,” Stephen quipped. Eugene’s noisy laughter could be heard even over the phone.

“I didn’t come into this world as a smartass like you. I had to learn from you, unfortunately,” Victor replied. “And I’m glad to see you’re amused, Dad!”

“I taught you everything I know, and this is how you thank me?” Stephen asked.

The barista called out Stephen’s order.

“Hey I have to get going, but you and Dad should come visit me in New York sometime soon,” Stephen offered.

“That sounds nice, but you can also just call me. Contrary to popular belief I do want to talk to you on days that aren’t holidays,” Victor replied. “But New York sounds fun.”

I wish we could talk whenever, like we used to when I was welcome under her roof.

“I want to go to the city, I’m sick of the neighbors,” Eugene added. “We’ll have to plan a trip, but for now we’ll let you get ready for class.”

“Thanks Dad. Love you both, and I hope you have a great birthday, Vic!” Stephen hung up before they could reply, grabbed his coffees, and dragged his feet the rest of the way home.

++++

Anthony was in the kitchen, serenely flipping through a magazine and eating lunch when Stephen trudged in. He paid no mind to the door opening at first, dipping his grilled cheese into the steaming cup of soup beside him and continuing to peruse the pages.

Stephen smiled fondly at the sight of him, the tiniest bit of joy finding its way to his heart.

“I got you a latte,” Stephen said, setting both drinks on the counter.

Anthony gasped, curiously ignoring the coffee completely and standing up to hug Stephen. “Thank you cuore mio.”

“I figured I’d surprise you since I’m home early,” Stephen replied. He relaxed into the hug, slouching in Anthony’s arms.

“I appreciate that, but I’m much happier to see you. We both left at weird times this morning so we didn’t get to talk and get ready for the day together like we usually do,” Anthony said, a little pout on his face.

“Well we’re both home now, and I’m really tired.” Stephen was beyond tired and beyond annoyed, swaying a bit in Anthony’s arms.

Anthony hugged him closer and tighter to steady him. “Let’s go sit. Did you have lunch?”

“No, I just got coffee and came right home,” Stephen replied.

Anthony handed over the other half of his sandwich. “Take this then, I just made it. There’s tomato soup too, since Bucky made me go to Panera with him earlier.”

Stephen was about to object, stopping himself only when he saw the mirthful light in Anthony’s eyes. “What?”

“I mean I don’t mind either way, but I’m giving this to you so you don’t swipe it from me like the mischievous, overgrown British shorthair you are,” Anthony teased. “You’re not subtle.”

“If I was a cat, we both know I’d be a calico,” Stephen replied.

“I disagree. What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?” Anthony asked.

Stephen shrugged. “I kind of want to nap. Preferably with you, under a blanket, and in front of the fireplace.”

“That sounds nice,” Anthony murmured, reaching up to softly caress Stephen’s cheek. “Let’s go, then.”

As soon as they were settled, Stephen rested his head on Anthony’s shoulder and practically melted into his side.

They made idle chatter and finished their lunch, Stephen glancing at his phone every now and then.

It’s stupid to hope something will change.

He knew his mom wasn’t going to call him, and that still stung no matter how much he tried to move past it. Stephen also knew she wouldn’t ever accept him again, and she’d continue to use his identity against the rest of the family who he loved and who loved him in return. Be it immediate family or the most distant relatives, Beverly was determined to exile him completely, erasing her oldest son from the family story.

Victor probably suffered the most from this, aside from obviously Stephen himself. Contrary to what their mother thought, Victor deserved to talk to whoever he wanted on his birthday, including Stephen. Being the middle child, Victor was the link between cautious Stephen and carefree Donna. The three siblings were incredibly close growing up, and their sister’s death took as much of a toll on Victor as it did on Stephen. Stephen almost left home for good a few days after Donna’s funeral, almost leaving his little brother behind. It was impossible to forget anything about that day.

Stephen knocked on his brother’s door.

“It’s open!” Victor was sitting on the floor building a Lego castle.

Stephen sat on the floor across from him. “This looks really good, Vic!”

“Do you want to help me finish it?” Victor asked.

“I can’t today. I actually came in to tell you that I might be leaving home for a little bit,” Stephen replied. He rested his head on one of his hands.

“When do you leave?” Victor asked, still not looking at him.

“Tonight or early tomorrow. I’m going to New York to help Anthony move,” Stephen said, making up a reason as he finished answering. It was true that he was going to New York to see Anthony, but he couldn’t tell Victor the real reason why. He’d already been through enough the past few days, he didn’t need to know that Stephen and Beverly weren’t on speaking terms as of today. He didn’t need to know that their mother was trying to kick Stephen out.

Victor just sat quietly and nodded, not registering his brother’s distress. “So you have time to help me build then. Can you hand me that brick, please?”

Stephen smiled sadly and obliged.

They were quiet, just working together like nothing was wrong until an overwhelming clamor filled the farmhouse.

“Dad’s home,” Stephen remarked.

“Are he and mom arguing?” Victor asked. “Why?”

Stephen knew why, but he held his tongue and just shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

Victor nodded and went back to building. “Make sure you follow the directions, I want this to be perfect.”

They continued to work diligently, not saying much to each other but listening to the argument from the kitchen. It wasn’t easy to make out what Mr. and Mrs. Strange were saying, but their mutual anger hung in the air long after the conversation ended. The whole house felt different, its welcoming energy replaced with something sinister.

And then someone knocked on the door. “Boys?”

“Hi Dad!” Victor said. “You can come in, Stephen is helping me build the castle set that you gave me!”

Eugene walked in, standing in the doorway and watching his sons work for a minute. “Stephen, can I talk with you for a minute? Sorry to tear you away from your building, but you can finish up later. I also brought home dinner. Victor, go eat with Mom before it gets cold.”

“Cool, thanks Dad!” Victor stepped cautiously over his castle and headed downstairs.

Stephen was still on the floor, Eugene sitting at Victor’s desk. He didn’t know what this conversation was going to be like, and fear made him snatch the first words without giving them much thought.“Dad, I fucked up.”

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t see it that way,” Eugene said.

Stephen had been staring at the carpet until then, looking sharply up at his father. “What?”

“I said I don’t see it that way. You didn’t mess up,” Eugene repeated himself.

“Mom wants me to go,” Stephen mumbled. He hung his head again, looking at the carpet. Victor’s room was the only carpeted one in the house, and no one knew why.

“Your mother also wants me to stop leaving my computer in the dining room since that’s apparently ‘her space,’ but last I checked this is our home and she doesn’t have a monopoly on that room,” Eugene replied.

Stephen was quiet for a minute. “She says it’s not my home. Not anymore, anyway.”

“That’s what we were arguing about,” Eugene said. “I came home from work and she told me what you talked about and how she felt. I don’t agree with her.”

“I wanted to tell you myself,” Stephen muttered. “She had no right to tell you, that’s not what you’re supposed to do!”

Eugene didn’t say anything, unsure of what he could say to make this better.

“I didn’t time this well, I know, and I’m sorry. I should’ve given Mom more time to process losing Donna, and—”

“Stephen, I think your mother would’ve responded the same way if your sister was here. It’s nothing to do with the circumstances and everything to do with her,” Eugene said.

Stephen nodded slowly. “Are you upset with me Dad?”

“No I’m not, and I don’t think you should go,” Eugene replied.

“I probably should, for a few days,” Stephen said. “Anthony’s in New York, and I know I just saw him but I wanted to go visit again before he leaves for boarding school.”

Eugene nodded. “As long as you’re back at least a day before your school year starts.”

“Mom isn’t going to want me to come back, but I don’t want to leave Victor! I can’t abandon him!” Stephen said.

Eugene shook his head. “It’s not up to her. You’re our son, mine and hers equally, and I want you to be home with us while you finish high school. Besides, you and Victor need each other especially now. Your mom isn’t the only one who decides what family means. You are both our sons, and though our family might be a little smaller, we’re still family.” Eugene grabbed a box of tissues from Victor’s desk, handing them to Stephen as he began to cry.

“Thanks Dad.”

“It’s going to be okay. What day are you planning on going to New York?”

“I booked a flight for early tomorrow morning, Ant said anytime in the afternoon he’d be around.”

“And are you going to finally stop pining for each other and tell him how you feel while you’re there?”

“Dad!” Stephen hesitated before continuing. This was unfamiliar territory, discussing his love life with his father. Eugene knew Anthony and could obviously tell how Stephen felt, but it was weird to talk about this. Still, curiosity got the better of him. “Do you think I should?”

To make a long story short, that’s how they ended up here, in the apartment they shared with three of their friends while Anthony repeatedly nudged Stephen with his elbow.

“What do you want?” Stephen muttered, failing to even pretend like he was annoyed.

“Scoot over so I can go to the kitchen!” Anthony said, the slightest hint of a whine in his voice.

Stephen shifted and grumbled a little protest as he stood up.

Anthony smiled and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be right back, then you can cling to me as much as you want.”

Stephen sighed, half in teasing exasperation, and looked at his phone again. He was staring daggers at it when Anthony returned, letting it go when he was pulled into a hug.

“Did you hear back from her yet? What time is the call?” Anthony asked gently, beginning to stroke Stephen’s hair.

“She hasn’t called yet.” That wasn’t a lie, but Stephen was too upset to give Anthony more details right now.

Anthony hummed, kissing his head again. “She will.”

“I don’t— yeah. She will,” Stephen mumbled. Also not a lie, as he was still clinging to the thinnest shred of hope that his mom would change her mind.

She won’t.

It doesn’t matter how much she loves Victor and values his happiness, I’m dead to her and that’s final.

“How was your day?” Stephen asked, eager if not desperate to change the subject. “Did you present the business plan you were telling me about? How did it go?”

“I did! Honestly it went really well, I wasn’t nervous like I usually am,” Anthony replied.

Stephen yawned. “I’m so happy for you. Every time you practiced presenting it to me, you were amazing.” He was physically and mentally weary, exhaustion dragging him into a midnight blue haze, but he was never too tired to give Anthony the praise he deserved.

“Thank you,” Anthony murmured. His eyes were closed, but Stephen could practically hear Anthony’s soft smile.

“I mean it,” Stephen said. “Love you.”

He was surrendering to the exhaustion, to the warmth of the fire and the blanket and Anthony’s embrace. Sometimes knowing that Anthony loved him and feeling the manifestations of his love made Stephen feel a little better. This was reprieve, and he was going to revel in it until reality came back to kick his ass.

Anthony still sounded like he was smiling. “I love you too. Get some rest sleepyhead.”

++++

Anthony woke up first, his phone ringing loudly from the carpet below. He was going to just ignore it, mistaking the notification for an alarm, until he came to his senses a little more and realized Christine was calling.

“Your boyfriend is bad at answering his phone,” she’d said.

“Hello to you too, Christine. He’s sleeping,” Anthony replied. “We both were, actually.”

“So sorry to have interrupted your mid afternoon nap,” Christine drawled. “But I’m glad you were resting. Stephen seemed really off today during class, and as much as I hate to admit it I was a bit worried.”

“You’re too much of a helicopter parent friend to pretend like you’re not concerned,” Anthony said. “I can see right through that.”

Christine just laughed. “Anyway, I know you could talk about Stephen for probably years but I called for a reason.”

“What’s up?” Anthony asked. Stephen was still asleep in his arms, and Anthony tried his best not to disturb him. “Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah I’m fine! I was just gonna ask if you two wanted to go on a double date with me and Hope later? It’s the first night of the carnival,” Christine said. “Sam and Bucky aren’t planning on going until tomorrow because they’re boring, and we want an adventure.”

“Going out on a Thursday night counts as an adventure?” Anthony asked.

“Why wouldn’t it?!” Christine protested. “Let me know what you decide to do and just text me or Hope, we can plan to meet up later. I take it Stephen isn’t going to class but I am, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds good, bye Christine!” Anthony rolled his eyes in amusement, opening a game on his phone and holding Stephen closer.

It wasn’t more than twenty minutes later when he woke up, checking his phone and trying to hide his disappointment when his mom didn’t call.

What did I expect? She made up her mind.

She doesn’t want to talk to me.

Why am I pretending she cares, hoping she’ll call?

Stephen huffed out a sigh, more angry with himself than anything else.

“Nothing yet?” Anthony asked gently.

“No,” Stephen replied. He felt anger boiling in his system, unease taking over as he continued to lie and hope that something would change.

“I’m sorry,” Anthony said. “The day is still young.”

“I guess that’s true.” Stephen didn’t know if going along with what Anthony said was helping or hurting at this point. “I have a ton of missed calls from Christine though.”

“Oh yeah, she invited us on a double date with her and Hope since it’s the first night of the carnival,” Anthony replied. “You in?”

“Not really.” Stephen answered without even giving it much thought.

“Okay.” Anthony was always so amenable, sensitive, and empathetic, even at the expense of what he wanted. Sometimes Stephen’s heart ached at how selfless Anthony was and how much he cared for people. It was a privilege to be someone Anthony loved, but Stephen had to remind him constantly that relationships were a give and take. He didn’t want to drain Anthony’s kindness, not the way people in his past did. He wanted and tried to be as giving and loving to Anthony as Anthony was to him.

He didn’t even sound upset about not going out, but Stephen’s anxiety kicked in and convinced him otherwise. “Well wait Ant, what do you want to do?”

“It might be fun, but—”

“Why not go, then?”

Anthony was stunned by how fast Stephen changed his mind, trying to read his face for things his words left unsaid. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… just a little jittery waiting for this stupid call. A distraction might help, and you’re right! It probably will be fun. Plus I don’t want to selfishly keep you from being out with friends, that’s not fair to you.”

“Nope, you stop that right now,” Anthony admonished gently. “If I wanted to go with our friends, I would. I want to spend time with you tonight, whatever that looks like, and we’re both allowed to want things. They don’t have to be the same thing, and you’re not selfish or controlling for disagreeing with me. Believe me?”

“I wish I could, because I know you mean it. I just feel like a failure since I can’t be there for Victor the way I want,” Stephen replied. “And I know it’s not my fault, but…”

“But it still hurts.” Anthony gently cupped his face and leaned in to kiss him. “Right?”

Stephen nodded, whispering a pained “yes,” into the kiss. It hurt more than Anthony knew, more than he was ready to discuss.

“You’re not a failure. You’re just trying to make everyone happy even when the most fucked up circumstances get in the way. It’s not a bad thing to prioritize yourself, and in fact it’s a good thing to give yourself the kindness you give to others. You have to,” Anthony said, protectively wrapping his arms around Stephen.

“I’m glad you listen to my advice enough to repeat it back to me, at the very least,” Stephen quipped.

“Yeah yeah, I know I sound like a hypocrite since I—”

“Since you’re not nice to yourself, even though you deserve to be,” Stephen finished his sentence. “I just want to be able to make someone happy today. I want to make you happy.”

Anthony smiled sadly and kissed him again. “I love you so much, you idiot. You always make me happy, and I’m always here for you.”

“I know you are. I love you too,” Stephen replied. “A distraction honestly might help me deal with the waiting game, though.”

“It could!” Anthony nodded, playfully adding, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh yeah? How?” Stephen played along.

“We can start by getting your favorite sushi,” Anthony offered.

Stephen genuinely smiled at that, attempting to hide it by burying his head in Anthony’s shoulder. “Really?”

“Why not?” Anthony replied. “It’s been awhile since we went to that restaurant anyway.”

“It’s been too long,” Stephen corrected him. “I’m not sure if I’m feeling up to being out for dinner and then going out later, though. I feel bad because you’re trying so hard to plan something fun, and—”

“You don’t have to feel bad. It’s not a problem, we can just order in and stay home until later. That’s what I was planning anyway,” Anthony said. “And if you don’t feel like going out tonight, we really don’t have to.”

“I want to, but I also don’t,” Stephen said. “You know what I mean?”

Anthony nodded. “Yeah, I do. I’m fine with whatever though, it’s up to you.”

“Let’s go then. I’m still kind of on the fence, but I’m leaning towards yes.”

++++

He was just being himself, but Anthony was making good on his little teasing promise to make the fair worth Stephen’s while. He had some magical effect where his smile made anyone’s heart sing, and his spell was especially powerful on Stephen. He was truly having fun, for the most part. His motion sickness didn’t flare up at any point, which meant he could spin a bit faster than normal on the teacups ride. It was exhilarating and just dizzying enough that he leaned slightly into Anthony’s shoulder while the group decided what to do next. Stephen found he was oddly at peace with himself and the evening, probably because of Anthony’s spell.

“Okay, here’s what I want to know: what the hell is a hall of mirrors?” Anthony asked.

“How do you not know?” Christine replied, her eyebrows racing up towards her hairline.

“Never in my life have I been exposed to anything that would entail being in a hall of mirrors,” Anthony muttered.

“Surely you’ve been to a carnival before, right?” Hope asked.

“Yes, and amusement parks! But again, I have no idea what it actually is,” Anthony said. “I’ve never seen one until right now.”

“It’s just as it sounds, Ant. It’s a room full of mirrors, almost like a maze I think, and some of the mirrors are distorted. It’s hard to explain without seeing it, but it’s kind of funny,” Stephen replied. “You’re the only person in life who ever gives me an answer,” Anthony half-joked, linking arms with Stephen. “The only person.”

“Rude, didn’t I just tell you the other day about—”

“Hope I love you but I made my point very clear,” Anthony teased. “I need to see these mirrors.”

Stephen smiled. Anthony was so full of an almost childlike wonder, he was kind of like the human equivalent of a ferris wheel… somehow… the comparison made more sense in his head. “This is going to be adorable.”

“Can we go?” Anthony was almost bubbly with excitement.

Stephen couldn’t say no to him, and right now he didn’t want to. “Yeah, come on.”

“It’s this way, let’s go!” Christine pointed vaguely to her left and led the way.

Stephen didn’t know what Anthony expected to see in a room that was literally just Full Of Mirrors, but his every reaction to it was more endearing than the last.

“Could you imagine decorating an entire house like this?” He asked, looking around the room.

“You mean you haven’t?” Christine teased.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “I can barely stand to look at myself for five minutes, this is like hell on earth. Don’t give Ant any ideas about redecorating our apartment, Christine.”

“She doesn’t need to, I wouldn’t do it,” Anthony replied. “Even I don’t need to see this much of myself.”

Christine laughed at their antics before chasing after Hope and giving them a moment alone. There weren’t many other people around, so Stephen had an unobstructed view of several of his reflections checking their phones.

Anthony was still standing beside him, taking everything in. “You okay?”

Stephen (and all of his clones) nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Still no updates though.”

I can’t even be honest with him. I can barely be honest with myself at this point.

“I’m sorry Steph.”

“It’s okay! I’m probably more anxious than I need to be, it’s really fine.”

Anthony frowned slightly but didn’t push him. “I feel like there should be at least one control variable, just a basic full body mirror at the beginning and/or end of these things.”

“There usually is at the end,” Stephen replied. “At least I think. It’s like when you leave home and take another glance at yourself to make sure you look decent. You’re the one who can, and you do, spend five minutes in front of any mirror, so—”

“That’s absolutely not true and you know it. The longest I’ve looked at myself in the front hallway mirror specifically is three minutes tops”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, babe.”

They continued their walk around the winding hallways, coming to a stop at a standard mirror just in front of the exits.

Christine and Hope were chattering outside, looking at a map of the fairground that they’d found somewhere (Stephen hadn’t a clue where, seeing as he wasn’t paying attention at the time).

“We look cute,” Anthony remarked.

“You do, I don’t,” Stephen said.

“No, we both do!” Anthony’s stubbornness was coming out to play, it seemed. “I mean I know you only keep me around because I’m adorable, but I’m probably the luckiest guy in the world to be yours.”

Stephen blushed and looked at his shoes. “Yeah, I’m only with you because you’re hot and not at all because you’re my best friend who I happen to be madly in love with.”

“Aww.” Anthony smiled and squeezed Stephen’s hand, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I love you too, you asshole.”

Stephen looked up, staring at their reflections and different expressions. His smile was tired and clearly forced, while Anthony’s was genuine and bright. He couldn’t help but sigh, disappointed in himself for not matching his boyfriend’s energy.

“You sure you’re okay?” Anthony asked.

“I’m trying to be,” Stephen replied. “That’s the best answer I have, and it may not seem like I’m trying very hard, but I am.”

“I know. Stress and anxiety don’t just go away when you ignore them, unfortunately,” Anthony reminded him. “Attention whores that they are.”

Stephen laughed, surprised as always by Anthony’s sudden dry delivery and humor. “I feel like you’re what ‘sugar and spice and everything nice’ means, you can go from sweet and calming to making me laugh within the same breath.” He shuffled forward a bit, dropping his head on Anthony’s shoulder.

“Well I don’t like the implication that I’m nice,” Anthony huffed jokingly.

“I didn’t really imply it, I’m telling you that you’re nice,” Stephen replied.

Anthony just rolled his eyes. “That’s your opinion.”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, you know I don’t like lying,” Stephen said.

Except for the fact that I’m so in denial about Mom not calling that I actually am lying to Anthony. He doesn’t deserve that.

Anthony just shrugged as Stephen looked up at him again. “So when you said that I’m not good at carnival games, that was—”

“That was me trying to encourage you, and while you clearly needed it I don’t think it helped,” Stephen quipped.

“Rude but true. At least there weren’t a lot of people—”

“Move!” A boisterous group of children who couldn’t be older than 13 ran past, shoving past them on their way to the door.

Stephen stumbled and fell back against Anthony, which caused one of the group to say something particularly rude.

Anthony glared at the instigator. “What?”

“Don’t, it’s not worth it,” Stephen said.

The same kid laughed, having the audacity to repeat himself before catching up with the rest of the bullies.

“I don’t know where someone who looks like they’re barely eleven years old learns to talk like that, but they can fuck right off,” Anthony said.

“You’re right. Honestly I would be more upset if worse things hadn’t happened today, but it’s all relative,” Stephen replied. “I’ll tell you about it later, we should go find Hope and Christine.”

Anthony nodded, a scowl still on his face when they found and rejoined their friends.

“Are you self-obsessed idiots done looking at yourselves?” Christine teased.

“You literally heard me say I can’t stand looking at my reflection for more than five minutes. We were just talking,” Stephen said.

“Why do people have to be so goddamn ignorant?” Anthony muttered, kicking the dirt in front of him.

“What happened?” Hope asked.

“Really nothing, just some middle schoolers being stupid,” Stephen replied. “It’s not a big deal. What are we thinking about doing now?”

“I want a snack, I think,” Christine said. “Does anyone want cotton candy?”

“We should get cotton candy!”

Donna had boundless energy, a zest for life, and a fun-loving mischief about her. She ran into each day like it was a new adventure, sometimes reckless but always under the protective watch of her brothers.

“If that’s what you want, Donna, I’ll buy you some.”

“What about me?”

Victor didn’t come into the world with a smartass attitude, but he quickly adopted some of Stephen’s mannerisms. He learned how to assert himself and how to be fair, which meant he knew when and how to argue on his own behalf.

“Of course Vic, I’ll get you some too.”

“I want the bubblegum flavor!”

It was the end of summer, and the Strange family was spending an afternoon at the zoo. Donna loved animals more than almost anything in the world, and all she’d wanted was to spend the day with her family sharing random animal facts and learning as much as she could. Stephen was the one to plan the excursion, the trip occurring the day after he returned from California. He was visiting Anthony for just under two (2) weeks then, that summer their last as ‘just friends.’

Donna was elated when Stephen came home, her little face lighting up when he announced the family outing.

Outing was an interesting choice of words.

That day trip was the last time the Strange family was whole. That day was the last day Stephen was worth something in his mom’s eyes, the last time he read his sister a bedtime story after pretending that he didn’t want to. All Stephen did was plan a surprise afternoon for Donna and buy her cotton candy, and she was the happiest he’d ever seen her. It was, in the most tragic sense, the perfect last day. She drowned in the lake the next morning, and Stephen felt like he lost control of his life. Desperate to take it back, and against his better judgement, he came out a few days later. He hoped his mom would be supportive, understanding, and maybe even encouraging, but he was as good as disowned by her that day.

“Hey… Earth to Steph.” Anthony softly caressed his face. “Stephen?”

He snapped out of his flashback, probably looking like a deer in the headlights when his eyes met Anthony’s. “Sorry.”

“I thought you were gonna pass out for a minute,” Anthony said.

“I’m good. I just zoned out,” Stephen replied. “It’s not even motion sickness, I genuinely stopped listening to whatever you guys were talking about.”

“So you didn’t hear me ask if any of you wanted cotton candy?” Christine asked.

“That I did hear.” Stephen heard the sudden brittleness in his voice and steeled himself, subconsciously reaching for Anthony’s hand.

“I forgot you don’t like sweets that much, sorry man,” Christine replied.

“That isn’t the problem,” Stephen said. “And that’s not even true.”

Christine just shrugged. “Alright.”

Stephen sighed, ignoring the confused look Christine gave him and running his free hand through his hair. He sighed again. “Sorry Christine.”

“You’re forgiven, Stephen. It’s fine, and sometimes you just have a bad day,” Christine replied. “It’s not like I’ve never gone off on you before.”

“I wouldn’t call that going off, I’ve used all of my self restraint today,” Stephen said. “But thanks.”

He sighed for the third time and leaned against Anthony’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Anthony asked gently.

Stephen looked at his phone again. “Still no updates.”

Anthony frowned, concern and understanding written all over his face. “That’s shitty.”

“You’re right about that,” Stephen replied, laughing despite himself at how direct Anthony’s delivery was. “Rollercoaster?”

“Damnit, I thought I was enough of a thrill for you,” Anthony teased.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “You are, you dumbass. I just thought it’d be fun.”

“I’m not disagreeing! I’m in,” Anthony replied.

“The line isn’t too long, y’all should go now,” Hope said. “We’re getting popcorn, and then we can ride the teacups again before leaving if you guys want?”

“Sure,” Anthony said.

Stephen just nodded. He’d had a good time, but honestly just wanted to go home and pretend like today didn’t happen.

“We can hold your shit too, if you want,” Christine offered.

“Thank you for not bringing up the Great Adventure mishap,” Anthony replied, handing Christine his bag.

“Not sure if I’d call forgetting to take off your sunglasses a mishap,” Stephen quipped, also handing over his bag.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll have called by the time we’re back.

If I asked a magic 8 ball what the chances were of that happening, I think it’d tell me to go fuck myself.

“What would you call it, then?” Anthony asked indignantly.

“Unfortunate, and a consequence of you not listening to me when I said not to wear them,” Stephen replied.

“You’re both wrong, that’s just Ant’s smooth brain energy hard at work,” Hope said.

Anthony rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry that wearing sunglasses is such a big part of my personal brand! Whatever, see you two in a bit!”

Hope and Christine probably rolled their eyes as Stephen and Anthony went on their way, but all in good fun.

Stephen was starting to feel a little better while they queued for the rollercoaster. He’d always liked them and they never made him dizzy which really helped. Coasters were sort of like a spontaneous thought process in his mind. There were digressions, breakthroughs and thoughts that were best left alone, and something to look forward to at every corner. Stephen felt like there was less time for self loathing on a rollercoaster, less time to hone in on certain things while he was moving so fast. He definitely preferred rollercoasters to tilt-a-whirl type things, even though he didn’t hate the spinning teacup ride they ended the night with. There was just more sitting still involved somehow, which meant more opportunities for self loathing. The pattern of the ride mirrored the circular thought process he slipped into, almost like he was cycling through stages of grief. Stephen wasn’t sure if he was angrier with Beverly for how she treated him or with himself for hoping she’d call, and he hadn’t even made it out of the denial stage. To his expected disappointment, there were no calls from his mom when he checked his phone on the ride home.

I don’t know what I expected.

I keep telling myself that I’m dead to her and it doesn’t seem to sink in.

I know it’s true, and all of this might hurt less if I just accept that.

Christine and Hope were bickering about something in the front of their car, and Stephen didn’t have a clue what it was. He’d tuned them out again, despondently resting his head on Anthony’s shoulder as Christine navigated the traffic.

“Ant?” Stephen’s voice was hushed and straining as he tried not to cry.

Anthony hummed. “That’s me.”

Stephen smiled sadly. “She’s not going to call, Anthony.”

“The night is still—”

“No! No, I mean she’s… I’ll tell you when we get home.” Stephen was trembling now, overwhelmed with everything that he was feeling.

“Okay,” Anthony murmured, softly kissing his head. His heart broke as Stephen started crying into his shoulder. “I love you.”

Stephen barely fought back a sob. Sometimes he needed reminders that people loved and cared about him, but he was always ashamed to ask. He was getting slowly better at asking for affection, but verbal reassurance was a completely separate beast. When it came to dealing with his mother, he needed to hear that he was loved and valued for who he was to try and combat the self loathing that followed their conversations. He needed help getting his confidence and self assurance back. He didn’t like to be so vulnerable, but Stephen couldn’t deny that sometimes he just wanted to feel loved and safe. Anthony, affectionate and protective and caring and sweet, always knew when Stephen needed these loving affirmations and always provided them. “I love you too.”

“It’s okay. We’ll be home soon, mia vita,” Anthony soothed. He reached for one of Stephen’s hands, holding it in both of his own. “Ti amo con tutto ciò che sono e con tutto ciò che sarò.”

He loves me…

++++

There was always something sweet about coming home to a loud house. The noise could be jarring, a pleasant consequence of 5 relatively loud friends living together, but it served as a welcoming of sorts. Today it was even louder when Stephen and Anthony got home, thanks mostly to an argument between Sam and Wong. Standing between them, Bruce was acting like a moderator of sorts.

“The lovebirds are back!” Wong announced, interrupting what looked like a heated rebuttal from Sam. “How was the carnival?”

“It was good! I tried to win one of those balloon dart games,” Anthony replied.

“Keyword is ‘tried,’ guys,” Stephen added.

“I was too busy thinking about what prize to win since I wanted to give Steph something cute, but it didn’t really go to plan,” Anthony said.

“Next time babe, I believe in you!” Stephen cheered as brightly as he could. He was tired of faking a smile, tired of hoping his mom would come around.

She’s never going to change her mind.

“Maybe we should’ve gone tonight, I feel like it’s going to be more crowded tomorrow,” Sam said.

“I think it depends on when you go,” Anthony replied. “Speaking of going places, you know your man dragged me to Panera with him earlier.”

“I told you! Nothing comes between Bucky and a bread bowl,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “What time do you think is the best to go tomorrow night?”

Stephen shrugged. “Probably 8? I don’t know. Most of the lines move relatively fast so you should be fine.”

“Don’t worry Sam, if the grumpiest boy on the Eastern seaboard says you’ll be fine, you’ll definitely be good,” Wong teased.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Stephen turned on his heel and left, retreating to the comfort of his bedroom.

“Did I upset him?” Wong asked, mostly addressing Anthony. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Something is bothering him,” Anthony replied. It wasn’t his business to go into detail, nor was he the gatekeeper of what problems Stephen chose to share with their friends. “He should be okay, but I’m gonna go keep him company.”

Anthony headed for his bedroom, bringing the conversation to a halt. Stephen had closed the door, which wasn’t unusual but Anthony still didn’t want to just open it in case Stephen wanted to be completely alone.

He knocked quietly yet audibly to avoid startling Stephen. “Hey, it’s just me. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Stephen mumbled. He was curled up on their bed, trembling as he looked up at the ceiling.

It was warm in their room as per usual, so Anthony knew Stephen wasn’t shivering from cold.

Stephen felt the bed dip as his boyfriend sat beside him, and he closed his eyes as Anthony began to gently massage his scalp.

“Wong and Christine are probably angry with me,” Stephen said after a while.

“Wong didn’t mean to upset you,” Anthony replied. “Neither did Christine. And I think they understand that you’re not purposefully antagonizing them.”

Stephen sat up, the intense mix of emotion in eyes burning a hole in the ceiling as he leaned against the headboard and a pile of throw pillows.

Anthony shifted just enough to rest his head on Stephen’s shoulder, silently reminding him that he wasn’t alone. He offered one of his hands, Stephen holding it gently. He drew figure eights on Anthony’s upturned palm as he thought, the motion soothing as he started talking.

“Before I came home today, when I went to Starbucks, I got a call from my dad,” Stephen began. “Mom changed the plan for today, he said. I don’t know what she did specifically but all that matters is that she rearranged the family call so I couldn’t join. That was her way of telling me she’s mad at me without having to burden herself by speaking with me.”

Anthony shifted to straddle him, comfortingly resting his hands on Stephen’s arms. Stephen didn’t meet his concerned gaze.“I’m sorry.”

“It gets worse. When I said earlier that I’ve dealt with worse things today than some homophobic children, all of this is what I mean.” Stephen was still staring upwards, as if their ceiling had an answer he didn’t. “I got to talk to Vic, which was most important to me. We didn’t talk for very long since I was planning on going to my next class at that point, but I got to wish him a happy birthday and apologize for not being able to join the call. He wasn’t upset with me, he understood and we left things on the same good terms. I didn’t tell him why I couldn’t join, but I’m sure he knows. I’m sure he’s figured out why Mom and I don’t talk, he knows enough of the story to figure it out.”

He was crying now, all of his emotions boiling over. He was livid, devastated, and afraid for some reason, hiding his face in his hands.

Anthony was silent, taking both of Stephen’s hands and letting him cry until he’d somewhat calmed down.

“Sorry,” Stephen mumbled. He rested their joined hands in his lap and turned his teary gaze on Anthony. “I've not even finished the story and I’m already a mess.”

“It’s okay Steph, you don’t have to be.” Anthony brushed a few stray tears off Stephen’s face.

Stephen sighed. “I knew by the time I got home that she wasn’t going to call me. That’s why I came back, honestly. I didn’t want to sit through my classes thinking about it, thinking about how I’m… thinking about how she wouldn’t call. I tried to make myself tell you earlier, but I can barely come to terms with all of this in my own head. I wasn’t trying to lie to you when you said she might call, I promise. I was just holding onto the smallest wisp of hope that maybe she’d change her mind.”

“I don’t feel like you lied to me,” Anthony replied, one of his hands again finding its way to playing with Stephen’s hair. “I’m sorry I was so insistent in saying she’d call. I was trying to reassure you.”

“I know,” Stephen said. “It helped a little, especially since I was trying to convince myself that she’d end up calling. But she never did, Anthony, and she won’t. Dad said she told him directly that she wasn’t going to talk to me, so why am I such a fool and still hoping she’ll come around? I’m dead to her and I should be able to understand that!”

“I imagine you’re trying to make yourself accept it so you can move on, right?” Anthony asked.

Stephen nodded frantically, his eyes shut tight as he began to cry again. “I know that’s not the best way to deal with things, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t expect her to accept me anytime soon, and I know my family isn’t going to ever feel whole again. But I ruined Victor’s birthday by not showing up for him with the rest of the family! I would’ve joined the call if she wasn’t mad at me, and I didn’t even fucking do anything!”

Stephen was crying more out of anger than sadness, resting his head on Anthony’s shoulder and subconsciously pinching his forearm.

Anthony hugged him, both to reassure Stephen and to keep him from hurting himself in anger. “You haven’t failed him. You did what you could and made the best out of an awful, fucked up situation.”

Stephen just nodded, hearing Anthony’s message but not fully listening “Speaking of fucked up, and this is actually probably the thing I’m most upset about, you know my cousin Maxwell?”

"Yeah.”

“He took a page out of my mom’s book and outed me to my aunt.”

“Jesus Christ.” Now Anthony looked as angry as Stephen felt, a storm brewing in his eyes.

“I’m lucky because my aunt Claudia is great, and she’s really accepting but that obviously pissed my mom off so now she’s mad at her sister and at me,” Stephen said.

“That’s good about your aunt, but why the fuck would your cousin do that?” Anthony asked.

“He might have thought she already knew, I don’t know. It’s not okay that he did it, but it’s a relief to know that at least she took it well. I was worried she’d make fun of me since she always likes to prank and make me the butt of the joke, and even that would be fine compared to my mom’s response,” Stephen replied. “If I got over this faster I wouldn’t have taken all the fun out of tonight.”

“Hey, stop that,” Anthony murmured. “You didn’t! I like being around you no matter what mood you’re in, and I’m always here for you. That includes when things aren’t going well, by the way. My love for you isn’t conditional.”

Stephen looked up enough just to see Anthony’s face. “Do you think she’s ever going to come around? And not just today, but in general?”

“I hope so,” Anthony replied. “You don’t deserve to deal with this from her, or from anyone but least of all your own mother, and I hope she understands that sooner rather than later. But I can’t say with certainty what she’s going to do.”

“I just want today to be over,” Stephen said with a sigh. “I mean I did have fun tonight, but spending the entire day attached to my phone and trying to ignore what I already know wasn’t really nice.”

Anthony nodded. “Why don’t we get ready for bed then? We can put it all behind us and start over tomorrow.”

“That sounds good,” Stephen whispered. “I know I won’t ever forget this, but just for now I want to set it aside.”

++++

The day should’ve ended there, with slight banter and falling into bed with the person Stephen loved most in the world. But of course it didn’t, of course the powers that controlled his life had to have the last laugh. He’d just closed his eyes and was starting to slip away, content as Anthony pulled up one of their nighttime playlists and hummed along to whatever song was playing. Stephen was the little spoon tonight, feeling loved and secure and safe in the dark of their bedroom and Anthony’s arms. He was finally starting to relax, and then the phone rang.

He didn’t expect it and was annoyed when he heard the first notes of his ringtone, but he answered anyway thinking it was one of their friends. Thor especially had a tendency to call people earlier in the morning or later at night. “Hello?”

Despite having called him, the person on the other end of the line responded with a hasty “I must’ve misdialed. Don’t call back.”

Oh my god.

The cold, familiar voice ringing out over the speakerphone made Stephen’s heart stop.

SHE CALLED!

“No Mom, wait! I didn’t think you were going to call.”

“I don’t consider you my son, I don’t know why you keep calling me your mother,” Beverly replied. “I told you, I misdialed. I wouldn’t go out of my way to speak with you, not after you continuously cast shame onto my family.”

“Not even today? On Victor’s birthday?” Stephen asked.

Beverly scoffed. “No, and don’t even say his name! You and Victor aren’t brothers anymore, you decided that for yourself, and I’ll not have any outside influences corrupting my only son!” She hung up before Stephen could defend himself, the dial tone uncomfortably loud.

Stephen wasn’t sure what to do. A sharp, stabbing numbness seized his body and he curled in on himself to escape the onslaught of emotion hanging over his head. He turned onto his other side, burying his head in Anthony’s chest and failing to keep himself from crying.

“None of what she told you is true,” Anthony said. “Not a damn thing. You—”

Stephen shook his head. “Anthony, don't talk. Please, I’m sorry, I love you and I love your voice but I can’t… it’s too much…”

Anthony shushed him softly, carding his hand through Stephen’s hair again. He wanted to say something, to tell Stephen that he didn’t have to apologize, but that wouldn’t do any good. Instead, he just hugged Stephen tighter and gave him a soft kiss. Sometimes love was best conveyed in actions.

This is just like when I left after the funeral, when we hid from the outside world together. No one makes me feel at home the way Anthony does.

Stephen was too used to crying in Anthony’s arms because of things his mother… because of things Beverly told him. He knew he could run and hide from this or any problem with Anthony, and he’d always be safe and accepted and home. The thought was comforting, especially to the part of Stephen’s mind that was loath and afraid to confront the truth.

Eventually I’m going to have to process this fully and give myself the time to do it. I know myself, and I’m not going to change for anyone. Why should I have to?

Stephen shifted closer to Anthony, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. He rested his head on Anthony’s shoulder, the tiniest smile on his face.

How does he already have bedhead? Adorable.

Despite saying that he wasn’t tired, Anthony was already falling asleep. “Need anything?”

Stephen shook his head and softly kissed Anthony’s cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’m just as tired as you, if not more.”

“Doubtful.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just scoffed at me.”

“I didn’t!”

Stephen rolled his eyes and leaned up to kiss Anthony’s cheek. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything, really, and I love you too,” Anthony replied with a yawn.

“You’ve done more for me than you realize, and I think you know it,” Stephen murmured.

Already falling asleep, Anthony didn’t respond verbally. He just hugged Stephen closer, again saying much more than words ever could.

tags: @stark-strange-love2 @taruyison @kitkatfat15 @katninjagirl97 @spookywizardboy @ocforeverything @ironstrange-chaos @chocopiggy @lokis-leah @majesticnerdynerd @maya-custodios-dionach @thespacecryptid @kiwidino @doctorstephenvincentstarkstrange

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peaxhcringe · 4 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

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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

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ziracona · 3 years ago

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[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

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severetimetravelnerd · 4 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

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songofsoma · 4 years ago

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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.”

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bouwrites · 5 years ago

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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.

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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.”

——-=——-

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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

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lady-divine-writes · 5 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

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justcallmenikki7 · 5 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.

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nctzendreamz · 5 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

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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

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