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youandtom2 · 1 year

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Little Birdie Part 2

Summary: You always thought you hated Tom more. But after a wild night that has now led into a confusing situationship you start to question who you should be hating more: your nightmare brother Andy, or his best friend Tom? w/c: 8.8k TW: just brothers being horrible A/N: Wow wow wow okay here it is. Please be kind as I am still easing myself back into this. And I know compared to the first one, it's barely anything, but writing 8k was actually a REAL struggle for me. There's probs mistakes and horrible writing but hey! i did it. And also DO NOT WORRY THERE WILL BE A PART 3. I DON'T INTEND TO LEAVE THIS STORY AS IS BUT I THOUGHT YOU GUYS SHOULD AT LEAST HAVE SOMETHING. okay okay okay all forgiven? Enjoy :)

LITTLE BIRDIE PART 1 // MASTERLIST

There was a book you once read years ago exploring the relationship between humans and dreaming, and it captivated your mind from the instant your fingers turned the first page. You were thrilled by its language, its storytelling, its theories and explanations to the point where you were absolutely obsessed by the enigma that is dreaming. The leading theory intertwined with its words was that dreaming was a human’s way of analysing their memories, learning from situations with hindsight and acting as a rehearsal for future challenges.

It was a book you rarely forgot and a book you rarely shut up about. You remembered the moment you finished it and the profound imprint it left on your mindset. Your hands didn’t want to let go of it. From then on, it prompted you to question every dream you ever had since then.

The dream you had last night certainly fulfilled that theory. Images of your own troubled memory involving your own troubled brother flashed before you. Aside from the unstable, hostile relationship, there was actually another reason why you tended to stay away from Andy. And for some reason, your mind decided to remind you just last night in the form of a dream.

Ten years ago, when you were eleven, you had just finished reading Matilda for the first time, one of the few books that occupied a home on your shelf as one of your all-time favourites. The storyline was almost an uncanny retelling of your life and because of that you immediately fell in love with it. You found so much of yourself in Matilda; a lonely girl with a love of books living with a family that didn’t quite understand her. Admittedly, your parents were much kinder to you than Harry and Zinnia Wormwood, but you couldn’t say the same about your brother. Andy resembled Matilda’s menacing brother, Michael Wormwood, in every way.

Prior to reading the book, you had had an awful week dealing with your brother who was in the early stages of his teenage years and you had yet to find a way of escaping his torment when your parents weren’t around. That was until you read Matilda, sitting on your front in a pillow fortress, swinging feet and unblinking eyes with the book perched so close to your face. One of your favourite moments was when Matilda had cleverly pieced together a very daring prank involving bleach hair dye, originally intended for her father but you took inspiration from it in any way you could and decided to replicate something similar for your brother. With the confidence given to you by Matilda, you found your mother’s bleach and concocted a mixture that was poured directly into your brother’s shampoo, cackling as you had finally gained a way to get back at your brother. At the time, you thought it was enough to keep him off your back, that with enough time he would realise the error in his mistakes for ever having mistreated you like Matilda’s brother Michael did.

It was the biggest regret of your life.

Things didn’t go your way. In the end, it was Andy that made sure you realised your mistake and a day later, you had suffered more than you ever had before.

Enraged, Andy had stormed into your room, hair blazing with a tinge of orange that originally had you in fits of giggles, but when you realised the true extent of his anger, you weren’t laughing for long. He had fought to grab you by your ankles and vigorously drag you from your bed whilst insults and slurs passed through his lips. You had kicked and squealed but your parents were out for dinner with business partners. You were left by yourself, left to suffer the carpet burns up the length of your spine as he pulled you out of your bedroom, to defend yourself when he had pulled you to the edge of the half flight of stairs and sent you tumbling down the steps. Being a carpeted staircase with fewer than 10 steps, you got away with what could’ve been worse but it didn’t mean that the injuries you sustained you didn’t ache from. So blinded by anger, unprecedented for a fourteen-year-old, Andy couldn’t explain to your parents how you ended up with a split head that needed stitches. He couldn’t explain how you had ended up with carpet burn blisters on your back. He couldn’t explain why he did what he did simply because your parents didn’t need an explanation. They knew what had prevailed.

It was a night you realised just how far Andy was willing to go to show how much he hated you and you vowed to never risk provoking him again. It was also a night Andy vowed to never risk hurting you again after the trouble he got himself when your parents arrived back home.

Well, at least not physically. Little birdie would already have scuttled away before it escalated to that point.

The dream had fizzled out into a dark void as the memory turned blank. As you arose from your slumber, you wondered why, of all nights, would your conscience decide to resurrect such a memory. Again, you reminded yourself that no one really knows exactly why people dream and what messages they carry, but if you were to guess; perhaps knowing what transpired last night between you and Tom, it was your deeper conscience telling you to consolidate an old opinion of yours; that Andy was the truer evil you should be hating more. Not Tom. Not after how Tom looked at you with a soft glazing of affection in his eyes just before you fell asleep, tenderly caressing the skin of your thigh with a grounding squeeze, the very feeling that made your heart jump with giddiness.

Longing stare, gentle touch, soft whispers.

Maybe it could be a feeling you could get used to. You were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt just to feel more of it.

The soft cotton of your black suite caressed your skin as you tossed and turned. The early morning sun streamed in through the small square window in the corner, illuminating the entirety of the shed. You had never slept on the couch before; it felt so out of routine. You were much more used to the bed upstairs hidden behind the blackout curtain, so you weren’t accustomed to waking in the bright morning light. It was somewhat uplifting. Albeit, the cramp in your neck was less so.

You basked in daylight’s glow for just a minute before acknowledging how bare you were sandwiched between a blanket and the couch. Despite it being a foreign feeling, it was hardly startling compared to the savagery your body endured last night. Your ass stung, your pelvis throbbed and your head pounded. But nothing hurt more than the tightness in your chest, a pressure so suffocating that your heart was almost murmuring to be free. The pain of solitude was a bitter one.

You, along with the black cinders of a dead flame, a raggedy towel and bottle of half-empty whisky lying by the side of the couch, and a broken promise were the result of what happened when Tom Holland got his way.

He didn’t stay.

You wanted him to stay and he knew that, but he didn’t stay.

Your pain tolerance had been worn down to its last thread and you wanted nothing more than to be cocooned in comfort and warmth. You sought recovery under the thin blanket, grasping it in fists and pulling it tightly over your shoulder as you turned on your side while a sigh deflated from your lips.

It was too good to be true. Tom was never going to change and now, neither will you. You should just keep hating him like you did before.

~~~~

Andy also seemed to be a no-show when you eventually entered through the back patio doors into the living room. Although the air was still and calm, there was still a feeling of unease crawling up your spine when you walked past the mess left behind by Andy’s friends. Without thought, your eyes subconsciously landed on the settee where Tom had placed himself last night before he came to you, where he had sat with fire in his eyes as you bravely threatened to expose his misdemeanours. You remembered feeling like you had achieved something, like you were the victor of a battle that seemed impossible to overcome. Little did you know it was a threat he was going to face head on, and suddenly last night’s…punishment instantly flashed in your mind.

Upon the thought, a sudden flash of realisation coloured your mind and your hand whipped to clamp over your neck. You almost forgot. The bruise on your neck. Shit, was it bad?

You shifted nervously in front of the sheen of the oven door, seeing not one but multiple red splotches staining the skin of your neck in its reflection. Fuck, fuck, fuck! How could you walk around here so brazenly with that on your neck? Trust Tom to be an issue even when he wasn’t here. Bastard.

“You got nerve comin’ back in here after your little stunt last night.” Andy’s groggy voice along with shuffling bare feet entered the kitchen. Fuck, you were hoping for a little reprieve to wash, change and lather your neck in makeup before Andy even had the chance to leave his bedroom. Between the dream you had last night and the bruise to your neck, Andy suddenly being here caused your heart to thump a little harder in your chest, but it was his tone that made your blood run cold.

He sounded…pissed. Well, that was nothing new. But aside from his usual abhorrence towards you, there was something about his expression that resounded a little deeper. Grumpier. His eyes also looked at you a little differently, like he knew something about you that he hadn’t before, something contemptible and there were no second guesses as to what it was. He can’t know. How could he know? Tom--he wouldn’t…would he?

Your hand stayed resting against your neck out of pure guilt while Andy roamed the kitchen, searching fridges, cupboards, drawers.

“What?”

He froze in his tread and turned to look at you expectantly with a deep scowl. “Uh, the whole Tom thing? How can you not remember what you did? Are you that fucking stupid?”

You swallowed thickly, quickly preparing words. “It…it wasn’t my fault! I didn’t know what he was going to do!”

“Well, what did you expect? You were pretty much asking for it!”

You took a hefty breath, body shaking with anger. “Fuck you, Andy. Just fuck you. Why can’t you just be on my side for once? That’s what brothers are supposed to do!”

Andy scoffed and turned back to the measly bowl of cereal he poured himself. “Well if you had just given me a slice of pizza like I asked then none of it would've happened! That’s what sisters are supposed to do, right? Do you know how pissed he was after you blackmailed him? He was blaming me for it, saying that I told you everything and how I betrayed him and how he can’t trust me anymore. I mean, how the fuck did you even know all of that?”

Oh. He’s talking about that.

Your hand remained casually resting against your neck, under the shield of your hair as a sigh blew past your lips. With quieter subdued words, you mumbled, “you guys aren’t exactly the quietest when you’re drunk and high.”

“Well mind your own business and put some headphones on next time!”

“Whatever.”

“Why are you holding your neck like that?”

“I slept on my couch last night. Got cramp in my neck.” Ready to leave with your secret still undisclosed, you turned to make your exit from the kitchen, heading towards the bathroom.

“Weirdo.”

The shower was a degree or three colder than you would usually have it. Something about the freezing cold water inflicted a feeling of clarity upon your skin, like a breath of fresh air, cleansing the stains of the debauchery of last night’s secret. Even as you stepped out, you exited with a new mentality and left the promiscuous past to drain away with the water. However, in its place frustration took over. Typical that whatever relief was to be had from the refreshing shower was only to last mere minutes, because now the heat of loathing had consumed you. Of course, your inner-consciousness blamed it on Tom, but there was a small minority that was self-loathing too for even letting it happen. You should’ve known better.

You stopped, frozen to the spot. The thing was…you did know better. You passed him off as a womaniser, the ‘selfish player’ who strives for nothing but his own satisfaction and only chases girls that share the same intent. You read him like one of your books, exposed everything you knew about him directly to his face and he confirmed it all without hesitation. So was there really anything surprising about what he did? No, of course not. You knew how sharp the blade was before you let yourself get cut by it.

So why were you still bothered by it?

The thought still followed you as you mindlessly dabbed concealer over your neck. You watched yourself in the mirror and for just a moment tried to avoid looking at yourself as just a reflection and rather how others would see you.

It was obvious you had never been adventurous with your appearance, your virgin locks hung around your usually make-up free face, adorning wise but inexperienced eyes. What you saw was what you got. Nothing you wore represented your family’s wealth; plain, basic clothing and lacking the expensive accessories that your brother might choose to wear, but it showed that you didn’t need money to be content and preferred a simple life. The more deductions you pointed out about yourself, the more you regretted ever reading Sherlock Holmes, because fuck, you were so readable. So transparent to the eye that you assumed it was why Andy knew how to push your buttons, that your parents knew exactly what books to get you for your birthday, and possibly how Tom was able to win one over on you.

The epiphany hit you hard and fast. Perhaps knowing Tom wasn’t the issue. After all, it certainly didn’t cause any vulnerability on his part. Perhaps the issue resided with never considering what others saw in you. Tom knew you would grow curious despite how adamant you were of opposing the idea. He knew that even though he was everything you hated about your brother and more, you would still fall into his trap. He knew how he made you feel when he was near, dissecting every sign until they were raw and unfiltered. He just knew. He even fucking told you!

“You’d be surprised at what I know about you.” Because you were so fucking readable.

Your head sunk deep into the caverns of your hands, quietly swearing an oath to yourself to stay away from Tom Holland until you figured out how not to be so transparent.

“Hey, dude. I’m sorry about last night. You up for comin’ round again tonight? I’ll get dinner and beers. My treat. Cool, dude. See you at about 7.”

As the words of an invitation echoed through the hall, you realised it was going to be much harder than you anticipated.

~~~~~

You spent most of the afternoon fretting over how you could avoid Tom’s inevitable return to the house. Your eyes gazed out of your bedroom window to see your shed exactly the way you left it. You couldn’t face going back there tonight. Tinted with Tom’s presence, it now served as a constant reminder of last night so it wasn’t exactly the best place to be if you wanted to avoid him. Being in the house was too risky which meant the only option you had left was to simply leave.

As 6:45pm ticked by, you tied your shoelaces, grabbed everything you needed and descended down the stairs, ready for your walk. You weren’t exactly sure where you were going to go, maybe you would find a Starbucks somewhere and read, but right now, your priority was to leave the house first and foremost.

“Where you goin’?” Andy had asked, his lips already sealing around a bottle of beer. You were surprised he even cared enough to ask.

“Out.”

“Good. Can finally give me some peace.”

Never mind. “Whatever.”

“Scuttle away, little birdie,” he chimed, seconds before you slammed the front door.

The pebbles clicked loudly underneath your feet as you marched your way down the private driveway. The sun had already begun to set beyond the horizon leaving behind orange remnants to colour the sky. Despite the day creeping into night, it was still warm and you praised yourself for leaving behind the jacket you considered wearing and indulged the feeling of having a warm breeze gloss over your arms. It was the first time you had seen outside of your house in a while and with that came the realisation that there was as much beauty in the real world than there was in your books. You should’ve done it sooner.

No, really. You should’ve. Because Tom’s Lamborghini was slowly rolling up your driveway towards your house. You checked your watch; 6:49pm. Fuck. He was early. Why was he early? Why couldn’t he have turned up when he was supposed to? Why must you have to go through this again?

Heartbeat accelerating, you looked back towards your front door calculating whether you had enough time to run back, but it had seemed you had walked too far and he had driven too quickly. There was no turning back. You had to face him head on.

Sweaty palms sunk deep into your pockets as you continued your stroll towards the gates, head down and ignorant of everything around you. Naively, you hoped for him to simply drive past you and pay you no mind, but of course, it was Tom Holland. Any opportunity to be a pain in your arse he was going to take it. You just wanted to be invisible, and despite the tinted windows and the pounding music coming from within, there was no way he wouldn’t see you and there was no way you were going to be able to avoid him.

You expected a slow stop, a rolled-down window and a witty comment to leave his mouth before making the rest of the journey towards your house. And in all honesty, you would’ve preferred it that way. In fact, you would’ve preferred anything over what actually happened.

The bubbling rumble of the engine stilled just a few yards ahead of you. The door opened and slammed shut again seconds later where a hearty silence followed. Quietly desperate to know what he was doing, you couldn’t resist the urge to lift your head to see him casually resting against the side of his car, waiting for your approach with his hands deep into pockets. Dark eyes latched themselves onto you as you neared and they instantly ignited a flame inside you, one that you hadn’t learned to tame yet.

In the split second you had before anything was said, you reflected back upon your earlier epiphany about how readable you were to him. Although you hadn’t found a solution to it as of yet, you decided to play into it, letting your brows sink into a scowl, writing the words ‘fuck off’ across your features with as much ambition as you had.

His head cocked to the side, purposely exposing the blemish you had regrettably left on him last night. You seethed at the sight. “Hey, little birdie. Where are you headed?”

Fuck him and his patronising, mocking tone. “Out.”

“At this time?”

“Maybe I would've liked it to have been at least thirty seconds earlier, or if you were ten minutes later. Either way.” You had intended it to be a clear insult to him, but yet you couldn’t fathom why he was chuckling with that stupid grin on his face. He took a step closer and folded his arms, his eyes examining you head to toe. Even in a different light, his eyes still contained the same lascivious quality as they honed in you. You really wanted to shiver but you also didn’t want him seeing what those eyes did to you, not when you were supposed to be pissed at him.

Longing stare…

Wordlessly and without warning, his hand reached out towards you allowing his fingertips to glaze over your jawline, purposely tilting your head to expose the part of your neck you doused in makeup. Your body burned at his touch, a violent act of betrayal of your own conscience as it pleaded with you to hate him rather than quietly yearn for him.

Gentle touch…

He watched the hidden bruise carefully, twitching under the bob of your throat from swallowing nervously and perhaps with a twinge of guilt for having concealed it. Why you felt guilt, you weren’t quite sure. It had been estranged from your emotions all day, and if anything, you felt empowered by concealing what he left behind. But under the scrutiny of his disapproving glare, you were far from the feeling.

The click of his tongue spiked in your ears. “Andy doesn’t know, does he?”

“No. But I guess that doesn’t matter, does it? I suppose you’re just going to go and tell him anyway-”

“He won’t believe me. Not unless he sees what you’ve covered up.”

“It’s better that way.”

“And why’s that? I thought we agreed that little birdie’s free to do what she wants--”

“And I thought you agreed to stay.” The words had fallen out in a trice before you had a chance to stop them. Tom wasn’t a fool to miss the anger behind them, and had he been a straight-up idiot, he would’ve missed the sadness in your eyes too.

His hand retracted the moment you continued. “That’s why Andy doesn’t know; because I got played by your game even though I know what you’re like, and it’s fucking embarrassing. I didn’t want Andy to find out that I was that stupid and naive to think that maybe for once, you wouldn’t be an asshole. It’s like it’s all some sort of prank for you, isn’t it? Because after all, you’re the one that comes out on top and I’m the one being humiliated. It’s always been that way, I should’ve been fucking smarter to know it was never going to change.”

Tom swallowed every word and embraced the silence for a moment before muttering your name in a voice quieter than normal.

Soft whispers…

“Just…do me a favour and leave me alone. Shouldn’t be too hard for you. God forbid Tom Holland spends more than one night with the same girl.”

Not sparing a second look, you turned towards the gate and quickly walked further from Tom who was left with nothing else to say. Although you were already fully convinced, you had secretly given Tom one last chance to explain himself. Just one chance to stop you and explain why he didn’t stay like he said he would, and still as you walked away and exited through the gates, he didn’t take it.

Each step you took was harder and quicker than the last. You drove your heel into the ground as that same frustration pumped through your veins, constantly abasing you for being so caught in the humiliation of it all.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself when you noticed your hands shaking. For a while, you spiralled into your own subconscious questioning why his absence this morning hurt you in a way you didn’t expect it to. No matter how profound your own self-analysis of what you were feeling was and why you were feeling it, you couldn’t find a remedy for it.

And like with every other problem in your life, instead of confronting it, you ran away from it.

~~~~

“Hi mum. How’s the holiday?” Your tone was chirper than usual as you spoke into your phone. It didn’t at all reflect how you were feeling inside, but you couldn’t let your mum worry about you. It would ruin her holiday.

“Hi honey, it’s nice hearing from you. It’s amazing; weather’s sunny and warm, the food’s great and all is relatively stress-free, well, except from when your dad dropped his passport at the airport and nearly lost it--”

“Jesus!”

“I know! I told him! The moron. Anyway, how are things with you and Andy? You sound like you’re outside. Oh God. Is the house still standing? It hasn’t burnt down has it?”

An airy chuckle fed through the line. If only she knew that Andy was just half of your problems. “Yes, it’s still standing so no need to panic. And I’m out for a walk. Decided I needed to leave the house for a bit to get some peace and fresh air. Andy has…been his usual self. Don’t get mad but he had a party the first night.”

“Ugh! I knew it! Truthfully, I always knew he was going to throw a party but I didn’t think it was going to be as early as the first night! Great. Now I owe your father a grand. It wasn’t too disastrous, was it? You must’ve spent the night in your shed. Did you get pizza delivered?”

You opened your mouth but no words came out. You never told her you were going to be staying in your shed, nor did you ever tell her about ordering pizza, regardless of the fact they happened on separate nights. She was still, in some aspect, right.

“Y-yeah, I did.” A long sigh broke the pause in between your words. “Hey, can I ask you something? And be honest with me.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Am I predictable?”

Your mother somewhat spluttered through the phone as she tried to find her words, obvious enough that if she had just said the first thing that came to her head you would’ve already had your answer.

Yes.

But of course, she was your mother, and in her sweet, maternal manner, she decided to answer delicately. “Well, you were always set in your ways, even from a young age. Very much a creature of habit. Routines and tendencies, you know?”

“So…I shouldn’t have a routine?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Everyone has a routine. For example, your dad and I get up at 7 every morning, we’re at work by 8, we come home at 5, we make dinner, we watch TV. Every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, I go to the gym. Yes, I have a routine but that doesn’t mean you’re going to know whether I’m in the mood for tea, coffee or vodka and it’s the same with you. I know you spend your evenings reading, but that doesn’t mean I know whether you’re going to read romance, mystery or horror. My point is; just because you have a routine, doesn’t mean your personality is predictable too, just the likelihood of your next steps. I’m just making it apparent that yours hasn’t changed since you were young. What’s got you asking?”

The truth sat on your tongue.

Andy’s best friend, Tom, whom I’ve hated most of my life, said he was going to fuck me even though I didn’t want to fuck him, but I still let him fuck me, and now I’m angry that I let him fuck me because it proved that he knew I was going to let him fuck me.

Obviously, that wasn’t what you really said. “Lately I’ve been feeling like everyone seems to know what I’m going to do before I even know what I’m going to do.”

“Well, change up your routine. Read in the afternoon and take a walk in the evening. Spend time in the living room instead of the shed.”

You hummed quietly, deliberating her advice. You remained quiet for just a second too long for her liking.

“Honey?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t help but wonder if this has something to do with Andy. He hasn’t said or…done anything hurtful to you, has he? You know it would break me if he was to repeat what he did ten years-”

“No, no, it’s okay. He hasn’t done anything in particular, at least nothing I can’t handle myself. Now go and enjoy the rest of your holiday. I’ll text you soon, love you.”

She sighed, unconvinced, but replied back with the same familial passion she had always shown you.

As the hours drifted late into the night, you made it to your local Starbucks and sat with your hot chocolate encased in your hands. While your book lay unused beside you, your old habits drove you to blankly stare out of the window, casually watching other people as they continued on with their life while you reflected on your own. The conversation you had with your mother still ran circles around your mind, and as ever the insightful person she was, you thought it best to heed her words carefully. Change your routine, she said.

What was your routine? What was a guarantee in your life? Well, for one, you had to look no further than your own memory of Tom’s words not too long ago. ‘It's hard enough that the sight of Andy makes you scuttle away so easily…’. As much as it pained you to admit, he was right. It was the only cause-and-effect Andy and his friends could rely upon. The longer you thought about it, the more and more of your little tendencies surfaced in your head.

So you decided to change them all.

When your mother said to change your routine, when translated into your mind it read along the lines of ‘when Andy comes along, don’t scuttle away. When his friends are invited over, stay in the house. Throw them off, don’t let them know your next steps.’ Although it was going against your human nature, you were going to put your mind to it. Do not let anyone have a higher power over you. Do not let anyone know what you might do next. It was going to be a real test of your mental and emotional stability.

~~~~~

As it had appeared, that test arrived sooner than you anticipated. Not two days after your mother had bestowed you with her advice, Andy had organised yet another party at your house. There wasn’t exactly a strategy in place per say, but you had already pre-emptively taken everything from your shed because you didn’t want to dangle the temptation of retreating to your sanctuary in front of you. You wanted to remain strong in your ambitions no matter how you were going to do it or how difficult it was going to be.

As night fell, you watched from the upstairs office’s tall windows as people started to flood into the house, just to get an idea of what to wear. You wanted to look the part, wanted to look like you belonged there and not just a lost ghost floating around the house like you had been before. Most girls you saw were pretty casual, thankfully swapping the short dresses and skirts to jeans and a nice top, choosing comfort over style, nevertheless still maintaining that expensive price tag. That shouldn’t be an issue; you pondered over the choice of Balenciaga shoes you had in your wardrobe.

Once the party had started, you gave yourself a generous 45 minutes to psych yourself up for the night ahead, throwing back a few drinks you had brought in from the shed, fixing up your hair and makeup with a little more detail, and spending many, many minutes staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes fell to your neck, the deep purple of the bruise had simmered to just a faint wash of pink that it wasn’t completely obvious to the eye, almost invisible in the dark. The foundation brush in your hand hovered a few inches above it, wavering between covering it up and leaving it be.

No. Leave it. Who cares who sees it? Not you. Not anymore.

The brush rattled against your vanity desk as you dropped it, turning towards your bedroom door and walking downstairs before a second thought could cross your mind.

With each step you took, you counted the number of things that were a guarantee for tonight: drink, drugs, games, chaos, debauchery, gambling, a mess. You had always seen the result of those things when you stepped onto the scene the next morning, but tonight, you were going to see them happen in action. A little daunting if anything, but if you were trying to look on the brighter side, you were fulfilling an unsuspecting part of your curiosity that had always wanted to see what exactly Andy got up to during these parties of his.

The crowd was once again split between the open living room, the kitchen and the veranda. There was no doubt that in time other rooms would eventually be used for other things, but the night was still young, sober and relatively innocent. You wanted to grow with it.

You couldn’t help but notice how you caught a few eyes with your entrance; a group of girls in the corner whispering between each other, a few of Andy’s friends turning their heads to catch a glance; shock, confusion and curiosity evident in their pregnant stares. It was attention you weren’t used to receiving, but that was the whole point of tonight. Change your routine. Be unpredictable. Be unreadable. Take control.

There was a pair of eyes you had yet to see, though.

Longing stare, gentle touch, soft whispers.

Stop it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” It was Andy, lips pursed, teeth gritted. It was obvious your sudden appearance was startling to him, and it was no surprise to you that he wasn’t taking it well. His control was slipping…

“Here? As in my own house? What could I possibly be doing here?” The sarcasm dripped from every word as you yanked back your own arm from Andy’s fist.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You smirked. “Says who?”

He opened his mouth again, at a loss, but was interrupted by louder, higher-pitched voices as they swarmed in from behind him. “Oh my God, Andy, is this your little sister?” It was Morgan, the girl Andy had brought back to your parents’ bed on the first night. She seemed to be engrossed with you, introducing herself animatedly and already inviting you to get drinks with her from the kitchen, much to Andy’s dismay. Despite being a little dumbfounded by Morgan’s sudden interest in you, you decided to not question it with the sheer satisfaction of knowing that you were stealing his attention.

“She was just leaving.”

“What? No, come on, let her join. You said tonight was going to be chill. ‘The more the merrier’, you said. Remember?”

Morgan whisked you away by the curl of her arm wrapped around your shoulder, bearing nothing but her pearly whites as she escorted you to the colourful array of expensive vodka bottles, mixed amongst the fat, golden champagne bottles on the kitchen counter, every second one uncorked. Morgan helped herself to the champagne glasses stacked up in the tall cupboard like she had done it so many times before, grabbing one for herself and one for you. God, it was like this wasn’t even your house and she was the hostess.

“It’s so nice to finally talk to you. You know you’re like a myth to us.”

Your laughter was loud and abrupt. “What?”

“No, seriously. We all knew Andy had a little sister but, like, we never see you.”

She handed you a glass of bubbling champagne and you took it delicately between your fingers, twirling as you reflected upon her words. “Well, I’ve decided to change that.”

“Good for you. I’m sure there’s plenty of people who want to meet you--oh! Talia! Over here! It’s Andy’s little sister!”

A slender body circled around yours and facing you was Talia, the girl you once fantasised over replacing. She greeted you with a smile on her face against the backdrop of her long, blonde hair as a red hue crossed yours. It was a smile that seemed genuinely welcoming and a sly thought spawned in your mind; maybe she doesn’t know about you spying on her that first night…

You couldn’t imagine her being so welcoming if she did.

“Oh hey! I can’t believe you’re here. It’s so strange seeing you outside your shed.” It was so strange to see her not latching onto Tom. Speaking of, where was he? “By the way, thanks for letting me use your toilet that first night, I don’t think I would’ve made it if you hadn’t. I was just so drunk and I literally couldn’t hold it.”

“Sure, it was no problem.”

“Really? I kept thinking that I had pissed you off.”

Well…“Don’t worry, it wasn’t you. It was…um, Tom. Didn’t want him in, honestly.”

A look of disgust contorted her features at the mention of his name. It didn’t make sense in your head albeit it was something you could resonate with. Perhaps you weren’t the only one to be foolish enough to lose at his game. Her eyes rolled widely and the click of her tongue conveyed a message that didn’t need words. She apparently despised him. Both a sucker for gossip, Morgan filled you in on the details with Talia giving extra snippets of insight every ten seconds or so, and after an unnecessarily long and dramatic build up, you found out that Talia and Tom used to have a little friends-with-benefits-no-strings-attached situation going on over a number of months. Talia had been using Tom in the same way he was using her; to alleviate boredom. It wasn’t news, honestly. In fact, it was hardly discreet. But the shock came from what Talia told you after.

“He texted me like three nights ago saying he wanted to end it.”

He would’ve been with you when he texted her. You must’ve been asleep by the time he did. A nervous glance to your left gave away your paranoia, regardless you probed for more. “Why?”

“Something about maturing or growing up or whatever.” She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder with a short, unbothered sigh, her phone now perched in front of her face. “Oh well. I mean it wasn’t like we were exclusive. I can get my fun elsewhere.”

Stuck in thought, your eyes mindlessly gazed over Talia’s shoulder where your focus pulled your attention to the living room, full of bodies sitting, standing, conversing, drinking, all blurring into one amalgamation of movement. But there in the centre of the room was one motionless figure, a solid rock amongst the waves and it caught your attention immediately.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Adrenaline was fed through your veins at the sight of Tom, just like it had done before. His stature was strong and confident as he faced you, clutching a beer in hand while the other burrowed into his pocket. He had you in his sights and with a glare so firm from eyes so dark, you found yourself being ensnared by them. You couldn’t put a name to the expression on his face and it left you wondering what his intentions were. Several ideas coursed through your mind but none had any semblance of plausibility.

With slow and careful movements, Tom tilted his head in a smooth motion to crack his neck. Only then, did you figure out what was going through his head.

With a breath caught in your lungs, you stayed vigilant as he subtly raised his beer just inches into the air with the neck of the bottle tilted slightly in your direction, dedicating a small, personal toast with the gentle nod of his head. What the hell did that mean?

You swallowed, cautious. You turned your attention back to Talia. “So…um, you haven’t heard from him since?”

Her eyes looked at you from the phone. “No. Knowing him, he’s probably moved onto someone else. Lucky bitch whoever it is. Tom was kinda my favourite to fuck around with. He knew what he was doing if you know what I mean.”

“No.” You deadpanned. “I don’t.”

Oh yes you do…

Having that very enlightening conversation with Morgan and Talia was just the first of many. Every second you spent around the house, the more people began to realise that you were here to stay and took the opportunity to find out all about Andy’s mysterious little sister. As introverted as you thought you were, you were actually enjoying the conversations, realising that not every one of Andy’s friends were as conceited as he was. At first it was the girls, watched by many begrudging boys as you single-handedly stole their attention, a problem that could only be resolved by joining them, chatting to you, finding out more about you and lure out the embarrassing stories of Andy they knew you had stored away somewhere. You were more than happy to oblige as it passed that point in the night when people had estranged themselves from sobriety, opening up with every drop they drank, including you. Although, you told yourself you didn’t want to take things too far, not on your first night of liberation from Andy’s silent clutches of which he was struggling to retain.

You had chatted to all but two. Two boys who had cowered to the far ends of the room for the majority of the night, watching, observing, refusing to follow the crowd. There was no attempt to patronise you, manipulate you, mock you in any way because, like your mother had suggested, you were completely out of routine. So out of character that the boys didn’t know what to do and unlike what you were dreading earlier, the party had developed into something you were happily embracing. It had actually pained you to take a break from the party when your phone had completely drained of its battery, so overused from adding multiple people on socials, adding numbers, taking photos that it had actually died.

Quietly excusing yourself, you made your way up to your bedroom believing you hadn’t been followed. It wasn’t until you tried to close your door behind you that a foot had stopped it from sealing you in. You barely made it to your charger when the intruder grabbed your arms and violently spun you around.

“What are you doing, get the fuck out my room!” Alcohol fuelled your anger as you spat words at your brother who was far from pleased.

“You little shit. You told all my friends about Mexico?!”

Mexico was your biggest weapon against Andy. It was a time where you and your family went on a summer holiday to Cancun a couple of years ago; an amazing time for you, but for Andy, it was his most embarrassing memory. Just days after arriving, Andy had an unfortunate incident involving the sea, lost swimming trunks, and a very awkward interaction with a lifeguard. Andy was absolutely mortified and the rest of the family giggled uncontrollably as they vowed to him to never tell a soul. It didn’t stop them from talking about it when the family got together, and while they kept their promise to never tell another soul, you had been embarrassed one too many times by Andy to solemnly keep that vow.

“Serves you right for embarrassing me in front of your friends all those other times-”

“That’s not the fucking same!”

“In fact, you’re right. Mexico doesn’t even begin to cover the amount of times you’ve embarrassed me. Now get off me before I start telling all your friends about everything else.”

His grip tightened, containing your struggle. “You’re not going back downstairs,” he ordered.

“Face it, Andy. You’re just too scared to admit that all your friends actually prefer me over you. That’s why you never ever let me near when you have them round.” You knew all too well that you were provoking him, something that you promised yourself never to do again, but you’ve lived so many years cowering from him. Just for once, you wanted to give him what he deserved.

“Shut up!” Enraged, Andy shoved you, and you landed just short of your bed, your spine landing onto the wooden bedframe with a clatter. With the door being closed and the music blasting downstairs, no one could hear the fight ensuing in your room. Once again, you were left to fend for yourself. But you were older and stronger than what you were ten years ago, surely you could stand a better chance against him.

In a tanlge of limbs, punches and kicks were thrown where and when possible, the two of you caught up in a careless fight with no clear winner. It lasted several pain-inducing minutes until the final, winning blow was taken by Andy who had managed to get you pinned to the ground. You weren’t sure what to expect from him as he forced you to the ground. Of course damage had already been done, but what else could Andy do to ensure you would stay here like he wanted you to? He knew as well as you did that at the first chance of escape, you would take it, so with every second that passed, the worry and fear in you increased. He was stuck for options, having nothing to keep you pinned.

There was an intense moment of anticipation. Your eyes remained locked in place with his as you internally battled it out with each other, waiting for either to have the chance to do something.

You clocked the moment his eyes wandered to your neck and heat rushed to your cheeks because you knew exactly what caught his attention.

“What’s that?”

“None of your business,” you spat. “Let go--”

“Is that…is that a hickey?” His voice was incredulous as he brushed a harsh finger over it, expecting it to be make-up but when it didn’t disappear, his eyes locked back onto you and his hand remained around your neck. “Who?” He demanded. The fire inside him roared ferociously. For a moment, the thought that he could potentially suffocate you crossed your mind. “Who?!”

To both of your surprise, the door swung open. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing? Get off of her!”

Andy’s weight was alleviated from you very swiftly, and your eyes caught on to the soft brown curls of Tom as he hauled him away from you, giving you just enough time to catch your breath and find your feet. By the time you came to stand, Tom had Andy shoved against your bedroom wall, a look of confusion riddling his face. He still didn’t know why his best friend had sided with you, and it made him all the more angry to think about what you had said earlier. He wasn’t ready to admit anything.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Tom yelled, face reddening by the second. “She’s your sister?!”

Andy glared at him through furrowed brows. Defending you was so uncharacteristic of him so it felt like a stab in the back for Andy. “Why are you taking her side in this, man?”

“How could I possibly take your side when you just attacked her?”

The two boys continued to argue in front of you while you stood silently behind them. The novelty of having Tom openly defend you against Andy had yet to wear off, so you were curious to see how far he would go and how it would play out.

“Dude, she told everyone about Mexico!”

“So? You’ve embarrassed her in front of all of us before.” Damn, right he has. “You told us all she was a virgin--”

“Was?” There was a brief silence in the argument, the gears winding in Andy’s head. His eyes twitched, stealing a glance of you behind Tom’s shoulder but contempt drove them back to Tom. “You know, don’t you? Who did it? Huh? Who left that thing on her neck?”

“Probably someone who can do a better job of looking after her than you can--”

You decided to finally cut in. You mustered the confidence and spoke firmly. “Tell him.”

Tom turned to you, a little surprised, almost as if he wanted confirmation of what you just asked him to do. With his eyes gazing over your features like they had done so many times before, he was able to clearly see the resolution written in your eyes and the confidence he saw as you stood your ground, unblinking. A small smirk tugged at his lips. He could read you so well.

Little birdie’s free to do what she wants.

“It was me.”

“You…no, you’re lying. I don’t believe you.”

“He’s telling the truth.” You came to a stand in front of Andy. “The night you had all your friends round for sports night. Tom left early, didn’t he?”

“How do you know that, you were in your shed…”

“Because he didn’t go home. Did you not think it was weird that he came back the next day with a hickey on his neck? That it’s just as faded as mine is now?”

An epiphany soon glossed over Andy’s eyes. “You were holding your neck…but you-you said you had neck cramp.”

“Or I was covering something up.”

Andy looked to you, to Tom and then back to you, betrayal and anger riddling his features. Between you and Tom, neither of you could quite tell who he was going to lash out at first and as a precaution, Tom took a step in front of you, curling his arm around your front. You initially thought it strange that Tom felt the need to protect you given what your brother had just found out, especially since you knew that you were considered ‘off-limits’ to your brother’s friends. Then again, it wasn’t out of brotherly-protection, it was out of greed and possession, and knowing Andy and his lack of familial compassion, you realised that you were just as much in the firing line as Tom was. His next words attested to that.

“You…whore.”

Now Andy had called you a lot of things, but a whore was never one of them. It had your blood boiling, your skin crawling with absolute disgust, and your molars grinding together. What did you do to deserve a brother as rancid as him?

The moment he uttered that word, you pounced for him in a blinding rage. What stopped you from actually hitting him was Tom, making a very mature decision to collect all of your flailing, swinging limbs and calmly escort you out of the room. Andy attempted to retaliate but with a swift and threatening ‘do not fucking touch her’ from Tom, he retreated and sulked his way to his room. Regardless, you refused to relent until you were safely out of his sight, out into the front garden and trailing towards the front gate with the music of the party dulling behind you.

Once you reached the gates, Tom turned to you once to ask you if you were okay and in your alcohol-adrenaline-induced state, you simply nodded. That was good enough for him.

Wordlessly you followed Tom, having little to no idea what he was doing or where he was taking you. All you knew was that he had your hand in his and you were walking out of your driveway. You shook your hand lethargically to test whether or not he would let go but his grip only tightened, apparently adamant on his decision to take you away from here.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going back to my house.”

“Why?”

“So that this time, you’ll know I’ll stay.”

All things considered, you should’ve said no. You should’ve reminded yourself exactly why you were trying to avoid Tom. You should’ve stopped him and given him a ‘what-for’ for all the hurt he had caused you like you did with Andy. But you didn’t because you couldn’t stop reminding yourself of why you wanted to say yes.

Rough hands, dark eyes, desperate moans. Longing stare, gentle touch, soft whispers.

You were tired of the reasoning, tired of the tension, tired of constantly battling, and tired of trying to decipher what every little minute detail meant. You just wanted to say yes and get on with it.

So you did.

Part 3 coming soon

#why am i nervous to post this???#i rlly hope you guys like it #i know its just a filler #this shit will have a part 3 #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #smut #dom!tom holland #rich!tom holland #tom holland imagine #enemies to lovers #big brothers best friend #little birdie #tom holland x you #peter parker fic

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

The Brothers and Side Characters Play the Sims

I don’t know what possessed me to make this but WHATEVER. I’ve been playing the Sims since I was a wee little girl, and I’ve seen my fair share of weird Sims stuff that I feel would fit these bozos perfectly.

My Sims have a Functional Family Life Because I Don’t (Lucifer)

God dammit Levi’s obsessed with another game... ugh.

Spends 5 minutes in Create-a-Sim and hops into a starter home.

Lucifer’s the type to start with all the average stuff and then build their stuff up as his sim gets promotions.

It’s just... so peaceful...

...he’s adopting a dog.

Look at his new little virtual family... his sim-kids are self sufficient and getting A’s in school, his Sim spouse MC or Diavolo take your pick loves his Sim-self, his sim-dog-

WAIT NO- THE DOG’S AN ELDER?!

AAAAAAAAAAAAA-

...

He’s fine. It was just a virtual dog. *sniffle*

He’s now spending his free time drinking Demonus and playing the Sims.

What’s a mod? Levi why does your sim have gun?

Behold, My Gorgeous Home... It’s a Box (Mammon)

Mammon, like the rest of the HOL, is mooching off of Levi’s Origin account.

“AW SHIT! This house looks awesome! I’m gonna build it for Sim-me to live in!”

Mammon proceeds to build a box with rooms. Yay...

He just picks the funnest sounding job if he picks any job at all for his Sim. That’s how he ended up making 9 dollars an hour in the criminal career.

Didn’t stop Mammon from buying that solid gold bathroom set from Get Famous... a box with solid gold bathrooms.

His Sim is broke send help-

“Leviiiiiii my sim needs money... the people my sim kidnapped and is forcing to paint aren’t making enough money...” “Ugh... press control shift C and type ‘motherlode’.”

...Levi made a mistake.

“FUCK YEAH! MOTHERLODE!”

His sim’s life is so chaotic, he has a piranha pool that his sim has almost died in twice, the sim is carrying on several torrid love affairs, his sim got struck by lightning, his sim has nearly died in a grilled cheese making accident twice... in the same day.

At least once Sim-Mammon and Sim-MC get married things calm down a little.

Mammon finds out what custom content is and proceeds to download EVERYTHING HE CAN FIND.

And now he’s asking Levi why his computer is running so slow.

Expansion Pack King (Leviathan)

He got into it back when the Sims 2 was new, he’s a veteran fan.

“Bro remember when Agnes Crumplebottom would show up and whack the shit out of your sims if they were flirting?”

“Remember when that witch would show up randomly on the lot you were on if you had Makin’ Magic?”

“Remember when Bella Goth was abducted by aliens and we just... didn’t question it?”

He whines about the Sims4 and how crappy it is but still buys every expansion pack, game pack, and stuff pack.

This boy watches like 40 hours of built tutorials and ends up sobbing over his weird roofs.

“WHY DOESN’T IT LOOK AS NICE AS THE ONE I’M LOOKING AT?! THIS ISN’T FAIR!”

The mod folder is so full istg-

Levi gets custom content for the sole purpose of making his favourite fictional characters.

This is why Henry and the Lord of Shadows are married and Ruri-chan and Sim-Levi are roommates.

Oh my god they were roommates-

Levi also added his brothers to the world and uh... Sim-Mammon died in a tragic pool accident F.

Levi then proceeded to befriend the Grim Reaper.

He’s anxiously awaiting the release of Paralives.

Wait Gameplay? In This Build Simulator? (Satan)

Satan’s here to build and leave. Gameplay who?

Our favourite bundle of rage is a master architect and the amount of followers on the Gallery he has shows it.

He takes up those build shell challenges and always ends up making them look positively perfect.

Asmo’s always using his houses, and Satan often takes requests when he gets bored.

No Mammon, he reserves the right to refuse to build a golden castle for you- YOUR SIM HAS 40 SIMOLEONS-

No mods, no CC, he’s building with what EA gave him.

...and EA gave him debug objects, and he’s not going to explain how to get them.

The one time he did actually play with a family... it was one sim and seven cats.

He tries to play without cheats... and ends up getting frustrated and turns on cheats.

All hail the Pets Expansion Pack.

Custom Content Soap Opera (Asmodeus)

Asmo spends 5 hours in Create a Sim then just... clicks out of the game.

That’s how it goes most of the time, buuuuuut when he gets super invested in a family he’s made, boy howdy is he INVESTED.

Sim A is carrying on an affair with Sim C who’s in love with Sim B who’s married to Sim A but Sim D wants to kill Sim A and C even though they’re the illegitimate child of Sim C-

When Asmo realizes that in the Sims 4 he needs to manufacture all the drama himself and he can’t just sit back with a glass of wine and watch the fireworks, he switches to the Sims 2 and 3.

“...why is this old lady beating up my Sim..?”

He immediately recoils in horror upon seeing how ugly the Sims are pre Sims4.

HE NEEDS TO FIX THIS-

Ah, there we go, perfect. Custom Content to the rescue!

He ends up remaking the entire world just so he doesn’t have to look at weird looking Sims.

Asmo is the only one to have finished a proper Legacy Challenge, but it gets crazy chaotic after gen 3.

“My sim just got abducted by aliens and now he’s pregnant- WHAT?!”

He has about 40 saves and only two he actually plays.

Just a Big Ol’ Happy Family (Beelzebub)

Beel found the game, proceeded to make everyone in create-a-sim to the best of his abilities, and made everyone get along.

That’s why Sim-Lucifer and Sim-Belphie are on a swing set together, they’re friends :D

“Hey Luke do you think you can make this?” “I-is that a cake shaped like a hamburger?” “Yes. Please make.”

He took one look at the cooking options and decided to max out his Sim’s cooking skill to unlock all the options.

Beel proceeded to drool all over his keyboard. Gross...

Boy howdy did he have some crazy dinner suggestions!

Overall, very wholesome Sim-life, except for the time Sim-Levi died because the toilet caught fire, don’t worry, Sim-Beel knows how to make ambrosia.

All is good in the Sim save...

...until Sim-Beel ate pufferfish nigiri and fuckin died-

Wait Did I Not Pause- (Belphie)

Huh, this game looks fine... I’ll play for a little- *SNORE*

Belphie makes some sims, plops them into a starter home, plays for an hour, then falls asleep.

He wakes up five hours later to absolute carnage.

Three sims have died because someone decided to make Mac and Cheese and the oven caught fire, the kids were taken away by social services, and the dog ran away.

“...heheh, holy shit everyone look.”

He doesn’t play often, but when he does, death occurs. He has found out every death method for every game from Sims 2 to 4.

And that INCLUDES the Sims Medieval! You guys remember that game?

Sometimes it’s not intentional, but Belphie got bored with the totally normal life his sims were living and decided to spice it up.

“Why are the ghosts breaking my showers..?”

Help There’s a Bug- (Diavolo)

The Crown Prince started playing when he noticed Lucifer was playing it.

He was immediately obsessed.

Dia mostly plays the Sims Medieval because he likes the feeling of achievement after completing a quest!

“Barbatos... why isn’t my Sim completing their task? The icon won’t show up.” “My lord it appears the game is bugged.” “:(“

No one thought to tell Diavolo that EA doesn’t plan on offering bug support to a game made in like... 2009

This doesn’t matter! Look at how great his kingdom is doing- oh no his hero has the plague-

He plays through the Pirates and Nobles expansion and manages to get the peaceful ending, he’s so proud of himself.

“MC! Look! My Monarch’s sword is permanently on fire and I’m fighting an evil wizard!”

When he does play the other Sims games he’s pretty basic, though, he does a great job at furnishing!

Dia gets crazy sad when his Sims die... he turns off aging.

Builder no. 2 (Barbatos)

Barbie doesn’t have time for this... but when he does, he builds.

No create a sim.

No playing the game as intended.

Just builds.

It’s relaxing, okay? A nice little suburban house he’s never going to play in, maybe a treehouse, maybe a big Hollywood Mansion...

The only time he actually plays the game outside of build mode is when someone needs his help to fix something in-game.

He does download custom content build items if he feels bored by the current selection.

Oh Crap What Am I Doing?! (Simeon)

Help him. Please.

He’s so confused.

“Luke, why is my sim upset?” “He’s hungry, Simeon.” “Oh, how do I fix that?” “...Simeon-”

There’s a toilet in the middle of the living room.

The fridge is facing the wall.

There’s no bathtub or shower.

The house is on fire- there is no god- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Okay, once he gets the hang of it he’s sitting pretty. His sims have good jobs, the kids are getting good grades, everything’s fine.

...

But Simeon won’t forget the nightmares.

What Even is This Save? (Solomon)

Solomon’s save is the definition of chaos.

One sim’s a vampire, the other is a spellcaster that really wants to fight the Callientes for some reason, there’s one normal sim that’s always sick for some reason,

It gets weird, confusing, and horrible.

Just how Solomon likes it.

His house makes no sense, like, what even is architecture?

Money cheats are needed because Solomon‘a goal of chaos and confusion is proving to be kind of expensive.

Square up Mortimer Goth, Solomon’s sims are here to steal your weird knight statue that’s worth a shit ton of simoleons for NO REASON.

He joined the scientist career for the sole purpose of getting to the alien planet and kidnapping adding an alien to the household via cheats.

The vampire ended up dying on their wedding day because Solomon forgot that he gave them the sun weakness.

Oh well, the ghost got added to the household! VAMPIRE GHOST!

The Child (Luke)

Before you say Luke’s too young to play the Sims, you should know that I was nine when I first started playing, and I turned out fiiiiiiiiiine.

He’s just happy to be playing.

Look, his sims are gardening :D

Look, two of them are getting married :D

Look, they had a baby :D

Look, his sims are building a rocket ship :D

Look, his sims’s rocket just crashed-

The concept of death hit the little angel right in the face that day.

“*sniffle*... my sims...”

Don’t worry, with tears in his eyes, Luke quit without saving and everything was fine!

Speaking of My Sims, Luke played MySims Sky Heroes and that was when Luke had his first bout of gamer rage.

MC came over to hang out with Solomon and Simeon, and in the distance they could just hear:

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY TIME WASN’T FAST ENOUGH TO CONTINUE THE STORY!? I’LL SHOW YOU FAST ENOUGH TIME!”

Okay, maybe Simeon should take the game away... just for a bit... he should take heed not to be bitten by the incredibly angry chihuahua.

Bonus:

MC: Why are our Sims married?

*Insert Boy Here*: Uh... that’s weird... I have no clue why they’re doing that...

#Obey me #obey me headcanons #Obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me! headcanons #obey me shall we date #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #obey me leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Diavolo #Obey me MC #obey me barbatos #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Luke #Obey me Solomon

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lumini-317 · 3 years

Text

Hello!

This will be my official “introductory” post!

My real name is Erica, but I go by many names. My nickname repertoire includes but is not limited to: Lumi, Lumini, Cricket (I have a habit of rubbing my feet together, lmao), Jinx, Eri, Er, EriJoy, Sunbaeby, and Aceir (my real name but in alphabetical order).

This is my first ever Tumblr blog. I’ve had it for a while but have rarely posted anything, that along with the fact that I’m on mobile is kind of a mess so I apologize for mistakes and all that.

I have 3 older brothers, an older sister, and a younger brother.

I’m an ambivert. Sometimes I love hanging out with bigger groups of people, other times I dread it.

I’ve taken the “16personalities” test 4 times and all 4 put me in the “Diplomat” category, however I got “Advocate” (INFJ) 2 times, and “Protagonist” (ENFJ) and “Mediator” (INFP) 1 time each.

I am LGBTQ+. I’m asexual, aro+panromantic flux, and while I feel like I’m genderfluid, the changes are very subtle and so I sometimes just go with agender, gendervoid, or neutrois. It’s a lot less complicated that way. I’m ambiamorous, and also pronoun apathetic!

I love whump. I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember but only found the whump community maybe 3(?) years ago.

I also love K-Pop, C-Pop, J-Pop, and Asian dramas, mainly K-Pop and K-Dramas, though.

I’m a HUGE multistan. ATEEZ, SKZ, TBZ, EXO, BTS, Red Velvet, SHINee, iKON, MONSTA X, TWICE, TO1, WANNA ONE, SuperM, X1, MIRAE, Ciipher, Golden Child, Purple Kiss, BAE173, SF9, IU, ONEUS, ONEWE, The Rose, PIXY, LUCY, STAYC, WEi (which I pronounced as “way” for an embarrassingly long time), Dreamcatcher, Brave Girls, TXT, ENHYPEN, SNSD, KARD, AKMU, SHAUN, Gaho, NCT, GHOST9, 1team, SE7EN, Cross Gene, D1ce, AB6IX, CRAVITY, BLACKPINK, CIX, VIXX, f(x), 4Minute, CLC, YEZI, B.I, Wonho, (G)I-DLE, EVERGLOW, SEVENTEEN, BROOKLYN, Ha Hyunsang, DAY6, GOT7, Teen Top, BAP, TREASURE, UNIQ, etc! It goes on, far longer than I can list. I am also very much against fanwars, they disgust me.

I’m also a HUGE animal lover, and a big softie. I can’t even squish insects. I don’t care that they can’t feel pain and don’t experience emotions, I just can’t bring myself to. I make it my mission to save any type of animal I come across. I find toads in our koi pond and immediately pick them out and take them to a safe place. I help turtles across the road. I got a mouse out of a puddle and revived it, releasing it when it was healthy enough. I saw a snail on a piece of wood that was going to be thrown on a fire and carefully pulled it off and put it somewhere else. So far I’ve found 5 stray cats (Piper, Toothless, Felix, Kai, and Kit Kat—all were found as skinny, sickly kittens) and took them in, raising them as my own. I rescued a chipmunk from certain death-by-cat. I’ve even saved a few baby raccoons, ducklings, lizards, spiders, and snakes in my time. And I’ll keep doing so for as long as I live.

I love writing, drawing/sketching, and painting, however I’m not confident that I’m good at any of those things, lmao. I mean, I don’t think I’m the worst, but my finished “works” often leave me unsatisfied with my “skills”. But of course, that won’t stop me from trying to improve!

I’m a maladaptive daydreamer. This can cause issues in some places while helping me out in others. On one hand, it makes doing chores and such kind of difficult. Like one time I had to take care of my dad’s pigeons while he was fixing our shed and one time he pointed out how slow I was with the chores. His words were something along the lines of, “I’m already almost done with what I have to do and you’re still working with the pigeons.” Also, it (and maybe ADHD if I do have it?) made school a nightmare for me. But it’s also helpful because then during church it’s really easy to keep myself occupied while the pastors go on about their Magical Sky Daddy™’s son throwing a tantrum and killing a figtree because it didn’t have any figs and how that story should “challenge” us or something.

The characters in my daydreams are weird, though. They merge and separate with each other to make different characters depending on the situation. Most of them don’t have definite genders. Only a handful of them have names because they’re always merging and separating like some kind of Shadow Clone Masters or something. Stuff like that.

One of my characters is for sure a demi-boy, though, and his name is Kyler.

I brought this up because I was watching The Andy Griffith Show and Andy was giving Opie a lecture on how many poor kids there are in the world and used the ratio “one and a half boys per square mile”. Opie then says that he’s “never seen a half a boy before”. Kyler just sort of pops into (fake) existence, jumps off the couch, and throws his arms in the air while saying, “Half a boy, right here!” I burst out laughing. Thankfully it didn’t seem weird, since my parents started laughing at Opie and thought that I was just laughing at it, too.

Any-who.

If I daydream while I’m standing, I’ll often pace and gesture with my arms while moving my lips. Sometimes I’ll even whisper. If I’m sitting down, I usually fidget a lot (such as pick at my shirt and rub my feet together), stare into space, and move my lips or whisper. My family sometimes ask me, “Why are you whispering?” Or, “What are you grinning about?” And I just shrug because I don’t know how to explain it to them without risking them calling someone to pray over me, lmao. I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to have imaginary friends because that was “evil”. When I was about 7, I told my parents about my imaginary unicorn friend and they gave me a lecture and “prayed over me”. It was embarrassing and awkward for me.

I’m suspicious that I might have ADHD, but don’t have the money to actually get a professional diagnosis. I’m also too scared to ask my parents about it.

Speaking of which, my family and I don’t see eye-to-eye. I mean, they don’t know it because I’m good at hiding it, and they think I agree with mostly everything they do but boy, is it a mess.

You see, they’re evangelical conservative Christians. “LGBTQ+ people are going to hell”, “ThE LeFt ARe eViL AnD ARe TrYiNg To BrAiNwAsh OuR ChiLdrEn”, “Trump was sent by God”, “Intersex is fake”, “Women must submit to men”, “You should get married no later than in a year or ‘the temptation’ to have sex might become too much”, the whole bit.

Meanwhile I’m over here with my (imaginary) pride flags, just existing as an agnostic leftist who wants everyone to have equal rights, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation, and would rather redo my horrifically atrocious kindergarten closing program role than pray to a god who (if they/he/she/it/whatever exists) gives cancer to kids and killed millions of innocent animals and people in the Bible.

But they have no idea that this is how I feel and now expect me to be baptized within the next month to show that I have “accepted Jesus Christ as my savior”. Yeah...that’s gonna be an awkward discussion...

Anyway, that’s just some things about me. Sorry that I got sidetracked a few times, lmao!

I look forward to posting more and maybe even making friends!

Thank you for reading (:

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harryskalechips · 4 years

Text

Illicit affairs Part three

A/N Hello guys! I’m sorry this part took so long. i’ve been so busy. Thank you for all the support and love. Each and every dm makes my day. I hope you like the ending idk hahaha dm me and send your thoughts! bye, I hope you enjoy

Their illicit affair isn’t really a secret anymore after being caught kissing on camera. Oh Harry, haven’t you learned not to be a romantic in public? Time to watch everything crumble down.

Tw: Cheating, smut

Thank you @harrysleftchelseaboot for letting me participate in your writing challenge! Here is part three! Any new writers or readers please check out the masterlist!

here are my prompts:

“Promise you’ll stay by my side?”

“Don’t you see I’m trying?”

“It’s okay. I understand. You can leave, they all do.”

Note: I do not condone cheating whatsoever! Please mind that this story is fictional! As much as it makes me sad to paint Harry as a cheater, it’s part of this storyline I thought of as I listened to Taylor’s album, Folklore.

Word count: 7.5k / Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 2

When a married person participates in an affair, they already know the consequences that can come out of it. Not only is it a betrayal to their spouse but every vow they said at the altar is washed away and is drowned in a pool of greed and resentment. Suddenly, their beautiful and favourite memory of their wedding day becomes a cursed thought... at least for Harry Styles.

A nightmare. A horrible nightmare that Harry never thought would come true. He sits up immediately half-naked in his sheets after his call with Y/N. He focuses on his phone, swiping through the articles written about their newly found scandal. Truthfully, he wanted to read them all but as he counted and tried to keep track of each one, he realized there were millions out there.

His wife’s screams and torturing whimpers were hurting his brain, after all, she was just a couple of rooms down the hallway. Of course, he wanted to check on her or pack a bag and leave the house but that wasn’t his main priority. It was Y/N. He could physically feel his heartache as he saw each headline along with pictures of him and her kissing in the parking lot at LAX. It was his fault. He knew it. He was too excited and happy to have Y/N back in his arms, he never thought a person working there or an undercover paparazzi would manage their way into the private area.

Was he angry? Most definitely. But there was another feeling he had in his chest that was too stubborn to leave. He hasn’t felt like this in a while. The pressure building around his body like selfish vines, continuing to wrap around him until he choked. Until all the love Y/N gave him these past months were forced to be forgotten. He could feel it from his head to his toes. The unforgettable butterflies when he thinks of Y/N are bleached and gone as his anxiety took over.

He wanted to cry and scream. His career is gone. His reputation is ruined. His fans are disappointed. His family, his friends -his wife! But most importantly, the woman who makes him the happiest man on earth is exposed to his world. The life he’s been sucked into for the last 9 years has finally sucked her in too. And that’s why he wanted to protect her from it in the first place.

When he first decided he wanted to share his talents and be famous, he never realized there was a very big price he had to pay. His privacy - his innocent and naive mind being manipulated as he networked as a new celebrity while labels were put on him that he couldn’t fight back. He loves who he is right now but that was because of her and for some time now, he wished the public could just fuck of. Sometimes he wished he was a regular guy living his own life so he wouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit.

Thinking about his wishes and his life, he almost wanted to laugh at this present moment. Was this a dream or was he right about love? Once he finally commits to a woman he loves, the universe has an odd way of returning his new deck of cards. Stupid, because that’s not how you play and it’s been unfair for him his whole life.

He had to check on Y/N.

He tosses his phone onto the bed and gets ready as he purposely ignores the device and walks out of his room. His game plan was to sneak out of the house and come back later tonight to talk to his wife. It was obvious she knew about his affair and all Harry wanted to do was avoid her.

“Sneaking out?” fuck. Harry keeps his hand on the railway as he looks behind him to see his wife standing near the wall with her arms crossed. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were so puffy. He wasn’t heartless. He felt bad for her.

“I was just going to get some breakfast.” Harry lies as he stares directly into her eyes. She wasn’t the same girl he married and she is no Y/N.

“You mind if you get me some too?” She nonchalantly replies, making him confused about her odd behaviour.

“Yeah, um what do you want?”

“I want to know why you fucking cheated on me.” Her calm strict tone changes into a more aggressive one as she couldn’t keep up her facade. He knew it would happen.

“Look-”

“You cheated on me and embarrassed our marriage... and um you have the fucking face to tell me you’re going out for breakfast!”

“I wanted to give you some space before we talked about it.”

“You’re a coward! You cheated at least own up to it.”

“Alright okay! I cheated on you!” Harry steps off the staircase and approaches her. They stood 7 feet apart as both of them had rigid and uncomfortable stances.

“How long?” Harry looks up at the ceiling and releases a loud breath.

“Approximately a year.”

“I can’t believe you.” She cries silently as she looks at him in disappointment. She quickly wipes her tears away, knowing that her dignity is already in the ruins because of him. “I know I haven’t been a good wife to you but you haven’t been a good husband. I just never realized you gave up on our marriage already.”

“Are you joking? A couple of months after our wedding you’ve been the one acting cold! I loved you so much but I realized what we had isn’t who we are anymore.” Harry confesses in an agitated tone.

“Harry after our wedding -You became busy not me! I tried telling you and giving you signs but you ignored me. I explicitly told you and you said you were in a good position in your career where you had so much potential… so I gave you space!”

“I tried reaching out to you so we can spend time together.” Harry furrows his eyebrows at her. “Don’t make me seem like the bad guy here. I was waiting for you to tell me you wanted to work our relationship out again. I gave you space!”

“I shouldn’t be the one to do that, Harry!” She pauses. “As time went by, I realized I didn’t need you as much anymore but I wanted to see what would happen if we stayed together. I still loved you!”

“You stop prioritizing us.”

“You did it first.” She scoffs as she takes her silk robe off her, leaving her in a short nightgown. She was so angry, she needed to find a way to cool off. “You think I’m stupid? I knew you were seeing someone the moment you started taking that ring off. I just thought you had the common courtesy not to humiliate us and our careers -to not give up on what we signed up for. Our marriage.”

“So you’re saying you were throwing a fit in your bedroom because I got caught?” Harry steps back a bit. He never realized how fucked up this relationship was.

“Obviously! What do you think I want in the papers? Not your affair with that college whore!”

“Watch your mouth.” Harry deepens his voice as he stares at her intently. “This scandal was not my intention. I’m not stupid like that.”

“Well, you’re stupid enough to get caught!” She rebuttals. She turns around walking to his room as she angrily tugs on the ends of her hair. “I don’t care what you do with your life but you should’ve thought about me and what would happen if anyone found out about our broken marriage.” She opens his walk-in closet and enters, leaving Harry to trail behind her. Without any hesitation, her hands begin to carelessly toss his clothes on the floor, knowing his favourite boots were to be specifically thrown at the wall. She was fuming.

“We had an image to carry and you ruined it because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself in public!”

…

“Y/N, I’m so glad you made it in today. I hope the paparazzi in front of the building didn’t hassle you too much.” Rob enters the meeting room and greets her in a sarcastic tone. “Unfortunately, they’ve been quite a nuisance for the rest of your co-workers.” He places a blank manila folder on the table and sits himself down as he looks at her in a serious manner. Y/N felt like she was being tortured, having just them in the room. “Paul will be coming in shortly, he has to deal with publicity first.” He was the one who called her. She barely saw him these past years as she worked more for Rob here at Columbia Records but she knew he was just as powerful after all, he was the company’s president.

“They’ve been following me around ever since I left my apartment. Look, Rob, I’m sorry about-”

“Hold that statement. You shouldn’t be sorry.” His finger raises in the air. Y/N watches him carefully as he opens the folder in front of them.

There… it had pictures of her infamous kiss with Harry, recent articles about the two of them and… her employment contracts.

“You shouldn’t be sorry,” Rob repeats himself as he picks out the photo of them kissing and slides it to her on the table. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Y/N couldn’t believe this. She knew what was to come but she didn’t want to think it was true! This was her dream job and it was all going to be ripped away from her as if the last 3 years meant nothing to them.

“I have to let you go.”

“Rob, there’s nothing in my contract that says I can’t have a relationship with a co-worker.” Y/N remembers reading that bullet point when she first started her internship at Columbia records. Although it may have been years, that rule couldn’t possibly change.

“I think you’re forgetting Harry isn’t your co-worker but our client.” Another voice answers. Paul opens the door as he hears what she says. He takes the pen from the pocket on the left side of his chest and instantly picks up her contract and circles that point in red. She definitely forgot about that. She finally remembers how months ago she was reading her contract as she sipped her… 3rd glass of wine.

“Oh.”

“Not just that but any employee that has publicly put our company on blast in front of the media requires immediate dismissal,” Rob adds in.

“Also It’s nice to see you again Ms. L/N.” Paul, a short middle-aged man sits beside Paul. “I had to deal with your mess outside. It’s getting out of control.” He adjusts his tie. “You do understand what actions we must take now?” He asks sternly, barely looking at her as he briefly reads her contract.

“No, wait! It was a picture that I didn’t know about! Paul...Rob, please don’t do this. I’m so grateful to be working here.” She pleads.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I wish you told me about this sooner so we could have figured something out.” Rob shakes his head in disappointment. “He’s married you know that. The damage control is more than what you guys could have possibly thought of.”

“I never meant for any of this to happen. Rob, I’m sorry. I truly am.” Y/N begins to cry again as if she wasn’t crying on her drive here.

“Let me be honest, I don’t want to let you go but I need to be fair. Our vision statement is to take care of our stars. With the disgrace of your affair being exposed, you can’t continue to work here while Harry is our client. He has a fixed contract so I can’t do anything to help you out.”

“I get it” She pauses a bit as she tries to take everything in. “I think I should leave.” Y/N abruptly stands up and wipes her tears. She walks forward to give Paul a handshake. She then turns to a standing Rob but he ignores her hand and gives her a hug instead.

“You have so much potential. I’m sorry your journey with us ends here.”

“Never knew you were a lying whore.” Jasmine murmurs under her breath as she walks past Y/N in the office.

It sucked. It truly did. Y/N could feel all eyes on her as she walked to her office to clean things up. It’s crazy how she used to feel so intimidated walking in these hallways, then after receiving a platinum job offer, she became confident. Now, she’s just embarrassed and ashamed as she packed her things up.

She tried her best to hold in her tears as she picked each picture frame off her bookshelf. “Everyone hates you, you know.” She looks to the left to see her close friend here from work, at her door.

“I know.” She bites her lip as she can feel tears forming in her eyes once again. Why can’t she stop crying? “You can insult me all you want. I’ve been receiving death threats all day from people I don’t know.” She looks down again and places random books in her bin.

“Is he the guy you were talking about a week ago or was this something that started in London.”

“We were together for a year until we broke things off a couple of months ago.” Y/N confesses as she wraps her arms around herself. Marissa carefully walks inside the room and approaches her. Without another word, she hugs Y/N very tightly.

“I’m going to miss you around here.” That’s all she said. It gave Y/N a mixed message because she didn’t know if their friendship ended here along with her potential career. A short message like that made her more upset.

To be frank, Marissa didn’t know what to feel. She understood Y/N and Harry. But the affair? If her husband did that to her, she could never forgive them. Maybe that’s how a lot of people see it. Not only was this a betrayal of a spouse but a betrayal of integrity to everyone they know.

And because of this, Marissa made the choice to keep her distance from this sweet girl. How betrayed and played she felt as her co-worker was sleeping with their married client behind the world’s back.

Y/N was a big mess. Her apartment used to be neat and organized as that’s how she is as a person but after coming home from work, scattered objects from her boxes laid lonely on her chestnut floors.

She sat on along with them, drinking from the bottle of red wine as she read through articles and mean tweets about her. The only hope she had was for Harry to come and comfort her.

The sad thing is… he hasn’t answered any of her texts or calls since she broke the news to him this morning. Funny enough, the display on her screen changed to a call and as she hoped it was Harry...it was her mother calling.

“Hello?” Y/N answer as she feels her cheeks become wet again. She was so embarrassed to talk to her mom. What does her mother think of her now?

“How have you been, baby?” Thankfully, she wasn’t angry but worried about her well being.

“Everyone hates me, mom. How am I supposed to find a job now.”

“You can come back home and I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t want to leave LA.” Y/N feels her heart die a bit. LA was her dream. She wanted to make so many memories here. The only thing she gained was a reputation for being a man’s whore. She isn’t ready to leave and move back under her mom’s roof. After all her roof means her conservative rules.

“I think you need to.” Her mother pauses. “Have you spoken to that celebrity yet?”

“Yes.” Y/N lies. She didn’t want to feel worst, knowing Harry was purposely avoiding her.

“What did he say?”

“We’re going to talk about it soon.”

“Do you love him?” Her mother shoots out another question after the last one. She genuinely wanted to know how her daughter was but she couldn’t deny the disappointing feeling buried in her chest.

“Yes.”

“How long were you guys together?”

“A year?”

“Does he have children?”

“No.”

“Why do you think your value is cheap to be sleeping with a married man?”

“Mom!” Y/N eyes widen at the candid question.

“I’m not trying to hate on you Y/N. I just want to know why you let yourself be in this position.” Her mother lets out a sigh. “Do you think anyone will want to hire you after this scandal? Why couldn’t you wait until he got a divorce?”

“I love him.”

“He manipulated you!”

“No, he didn’t.” She pulls the phone away from her face due to being so irritated. “I thought you called me because you wanted to check up on me -Not to hate on my decisions!” She immediately hangs up the call and lays down on her floor.

Today has got be the worst day of her life.

It was the next morning after their affair was exposed and no one was feeling good. The rhythmic pattern of knocks on Y/N’s door wakes her up. She somehow managed to fall asleep on the floor last night leaving her to sit up and glance through her curtains to see the paparazzi loitering around downstairs. Letting out a sigh, she stands up and opens the door. Thankfully, she knew it was Harry from the way he knocked -which made her feel a whole lot better.

She opens the door and catches sight of him in front of her. Hope fills her eyes immediately as she quickly yanks him inside. Without another waste of breath, they hug each other so tightly. “Where were you? You weren’t answering my calls all day.” She mumbles into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, making her remember the little bubble they used to have before.

At least she knew they were safe here inside her apartment.

“I’m sorry. I had to speak to Jeff and handle my wife all day.” He pulls away and holds her face in his hands. “Y/N baby, I’m sorry for everything.”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head and grabs his hand so she can lead them to her couch. “ Come sit down. How did you find your way into the building without getting caught?”

“I think you forgot I’m a pro at coming over here without getting seen.” He gives a small smile as he looks around her messy living room. “Did you sleep in here last tonight?” The throw blanket and tiny blue pillow on the floor catches his eye.

“Sorry about the mess.” She pulls her hand away from his. She fixes her hair as she manages to move the boxes out of the way. “I did yeah. Fell asleep.” Y/N bit her lip in anxiety. She was scared to tell him she lost her job because of their relationship.

“These boxes...” He continues to sit on the couch. He picks up a frame from one of them only to realize it was from her office. “Were you fired, Y/N?” His tone of voice automatically changing into a serious one.

“Well, I went to the meeting Paul called me in for yesterday. Luckily, I saw Ro-”

“Answer my question.” He deadly stares at her while the frame in his hand is gripped tightly in his fist.

“Yes.” Harry immediately stands up and reaches behind his pocket to grab his phone. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m calling them, obviously.” He scratches his nose and glances at the window. As he held his phone to his ear on one side, he quickly walked around her apartment closing all her curtains. He keeps his standing stance once he finds himself back in the living room, leaving Y/N to sit on the couch and watch him.

“Harry, hang up.” She suggests as she watches his every move. “Please, stop.”

“Y/N, they fired you.” He tosses his phone to the floor after being ignored by the company. “They can’t do that!”

“Yes, they can. We um...I uh... I broke rules from my contract.”

“Fuck, Y/N.” She could see how broken he was from hearing that. He stressfully runs his hand through his hair as he looks at her. “I’m sorry for kissing you in the parking lot.”

“It’s not your fault.” She bites her cheek as she looks down at her hands. In all honestly, she did feel some sort of anger towards him -maybe because she just lost her job.

“Are you mad at me?” Harry sits down beside her and guides her to straddle him. She immediately complies and wraps her arms around his neck. She rests her cheek against his chest as she feels a tear run down her face. Hopefully, he doesn’t feel it.

“It’s just...Why are you married?” She fixes her position while she feels his fingers slide underneath her sweatshirt. She lets out a sigh and rubs her face against his thick shirt. “I mean why out of all the days we knew each other, we started out like this? Why did I have to meet you and fall in love?” She lets out her frustrated confession.

“I don’t regret anything.” Harry takes a hard swallow and kisses her temple. She immediately sits up and looks at him with a surprised look on her face.

“I lost my job and possibly my whole career!”

“Baby hey look,” He tightens his hold on her waist. “You’re not the only one. My career is obviously not doing well too. My fans are disappointed at me and I have this huge scandal on my back.”

“The only difference is you have money.” She crosses her arms. Harry gives her a strange look and sits up a bit.

“I don’t think we’re understanding each other.” He rests his hands by his side. “I don’t regret meeting you and falling in love. I don’t regret coming here every night to fall asleep beside you. You make me happy and if there is one thing I realized after our break up, it’s that I love you so much. You never stopped driving me crazy.”

“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head and pouts. “I’m just scared.” She breaks down in front of him. “You mean so much to me. I don’t want to lose you again. Now that I know we’re both fighting for each other, I don’t want to give up.”

“I don’t want to either.” He hugs her tightly. “You’re mine and I’m yours. We’re going to get through this despite what happened.”

“Harry.” Rob greets him since he’s already sitting at the table with the rest of their team. As Harry walked in with his coffee, he noticed the empty seat in front of his. That definitely made him angrier more than he thought.

Instead of greeting everyone with a smile or a handshake, he says nothing and sits down. Today was a serious meeting, so he decided to wear a casual suit. He fixes his blazer and rubs his chin. “Let’s get started,” he speaks up in a monotone voice.

Jasmine speaks up after making eye contact with Rob. “Your name has been trending for the past few days so as Y/N’s.”

“I think I would know that.” He gives her cut eye and rolls his eyes at the end. He remembered last night, Y/N told him what she said to her. If only, he could get her fired.

“Harry, Tour starts in a month. Should we continue with it?” Rob asks.

“Yes.” He folds his hands on the table, trying to not look at the empty chair.

“But your reputation-”

“I want to release a public statement.”

“I think that’s a good idea but what could you possibly say that can help your fans understand your cheat-” Jasmine gets cut off again by Harry.

“Jasmine stop.” He takes a sip of his coffee. Everyone’s eyes widen at his tone.

“Harry, do you know what you want to say?” Darlene, his publicist asks. Jeff stayed silent as he listened to the conversation. Harry quickly glances at him before continuing on.

“I’ll write everything myself and upload them on my social platforms when I’m ready.”

After the meeting ended, Harry stayed in his seat as he watched everyone leave. It was different knowing he would never see Y/N be one of them ever again. Marissa stalls a bit, cleaning up her papers as she looked up and spoke to him. “Shouldn’t you go to Rob’s office so you can join his meeting with Jeff?” Harry nods his head but doesn’t move.

“How is she?” She genuinely asks him. He looks at her and plays with the pen in his hand.

“She’s been locked up inside her apartment for the past two days.” He was too, to be honest. He only left her building to change at his house and come to this meeting. Lately, they’ve been spending as much time together.

“Can you please tell her I love her?” Marissa leans her hip on the table and quickly wipes away a tear. “I understand her. I just feel a bit betrayed at the moment.”

“Okay.” He sits immediately and pulls out his phone. “I’m going to head to Rob’s now but I hope you girls stay friends. She doesn’t um exactly have anybody except for me.” She nods her head and walks around the table to give him a hug.

“Take care of her, Harry.”

Harry’s hands were shaking as he was about to post his message about his cheating scandal for millions to see. He did feel a bit reassured by Rob and Jeff, however. They promised him, they would try their best to fix his reputation and keep him and Y/N out of the media after this blows over. Since he still had two more years with Columbia, Rob also told him he would switch Jasmine out of his team. Maybe things will go well after a while?

Posted 7:18 PM

A/N Bruh if this picture is blurry fuck I'm going to stuff my fist down my throat. I’ll just repost the message here hahah booooo! where are my tomatoes?

harrystyles To my fans, to the people who know me and most importantly to my wife I’m sorry. Nothing can excuse the reason why I cheated. Secretly behind the cameras, my marriage was already on a rocky path that she and I made the choice not to fix. We began to drift away from one another after a couple months in our marriage. With strong denial, both of us chose to let it be and continue the negative impact that was affecting us both. In 2017, I met an intern at my label who I never thought would change my life. I’m sorry that you all had to find out this way. Never in my life would I have thought I would be the man who cheats on his wife but please understand my marriage was broken from the very beginning. I’m not trying to hand out excuses to you all but instead, share an insight into what my life is. It’s hard to have eyes watching me every day without them knowing anything about me. No one will understand how I felt and what dilemmas and issues I’ve been through but that’s okay. I spoke to my wife and we have decided to officially separate as we realized it was time. Cheating is never okay and I understand if you are angry at me or choose to unfollow me. I will forever be grateful for your support as I continue my journey in life. Y/N, I love you. Thank you for being my rock this past year. I’m sorry for all the hurt you’ve been going through. I know you don’t deserve this because you’re the most genuine and sweetest girl I adore. You’re my soulmate and I wouldn't be as happy as I was without you. H

“Are you really going to go?” Y/N bit the sleeve of her sweater as she sat on her bed watching Harry pack his clothes into his luggage. After this past week, he was able to pick most of his stuff up from his house. Now Y/N’s apartment was more claustrophobic than usual. A couple of days ago, he also posted his statement. Luckily most of his fans understood him, even though there is still some backlash about it.

“I disappointed my fans enough. I think I should.” He itches his nose and sits down beside her. “You’re going to be a good girl for me while I’m gone right.” Her cheeks turn red as she shyly nods.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too.” he kisses her

“I need to find a job or else my mom is going to cut me off and make me move back home.”

“I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it.” He kisses her neck. “Did you forget your boyfriend is a mega-millionaire?”

“He’s also married.” She teases him back. Fortunately, her anxiety hasn’t been that bad due to Harry being by her side 24/7. She was getting used to being in their bubble all the time.

“Not in 6 months.” his tongue dips out of his mouth as he gives her little kisses on her chest. “You’re really beautiful did you know that?”

“I think you’re gorgeous.” She bites her lip as she takes in the smell of his cologne on her pillow. It’s been nice waking up to him every morning. Something she has not been able to really do ever since they started seeing each other.

“Mmm, really.” He looks up her at her as he slowly raises her thin T-shirt. “Are you trying to get some extra brownie points before I leave?” He kisses her belly button.

“Maybe?” She squints her eyes and smiles at him.

“I love you, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

“I love you.” She reaches for him again so they can kiss. His hands quickly hold onto her waist as she sits up and tries to remove his shirt. “You’re going to be leaving me again” She whispers to him while she stares into his green eyes.

“I’ll be thinking of you every day.”

“Without you, I’m scared. Promise you’ll stay by my side.”

“I’ll check on you daily. I got you as long as you got me.” He gives her a cheesy smile making her eyes light up. He leans down to kiss her once more as he guides her to lay down on the bed. “Remember the first time I fucked you? On your dining room table.”

“Mhm.” Y/N hums as she feels his hands take off her shorts.

“How about that time after we got back together and I ate you out on the plane?”

“Harry.” She bites her lip while she watches him rub his two fingers on her wet center.

“You’re such a good girl for daddy yeah?” He slips his fingers underneath the fabric then gives it a taste. “I’m going to miss the way you like crazy baby.” he bits his lip as he sits on his knees. He takes her legs and opens them a bit wider. His hands roam her body as if this was the last time they were going to be together.

“I want you now.” She lifts her shirt up as she watches Harry grope her breasts.

“Patience bub.” He smirks at her as his hands take her underwear off. “You’re my baby.” He softly bites her nipple. “My precious girl.” He kisses the spot where her heart is. “I think you were made for me.”

She smiles softly as she kisses the same spot on his body. “You deserve the world.”

“Aw fuck. I‘m so in love with you.” He smiles so happily as he looks up at her ceiling. He’s never felt like this with anyone except for her. It’s everything about her that reels her in. Her smile, her soft personality, her sweet kisses, and her loving soul. How did he miss out on her before?

“Well, don’t just say it. Show me.”

It’s been a month since Harry left for tour and although he promised to check on her every day -it stopped.

At first, Y/N thought nothing about it. After all, maybe he’s just busy with his shows (you know since he’s touring the world but after a while, he stopped answering her texts. That’s when she knew he was doing it on purpose.

At the moment, she was working at an art gallery in East Los Angeles. Luckily, she was working in the offices upstairs sorting their finances. It was hard at first finding a job and that was something she never told Harry.

Every record label and management wanted nothing to do with her. Y/N could barely leave the house without a group of girls whispering behind her back. Lastly, she still had new recent paparazzi pictures of her on daily mail.

Without Harry, she felt lonely and excluded from everyone else in Los Angeles. She still cried herself to sleep on some nights because she just felt like an overall disappointment.

Knocks on her door make her confused as she cooked herself some lunch in the kitchen. Dusting her hands off on her apron, she lets go of her knife and tomato and heads to the foyer.

“Hello.” There she was. In real life. Harry’s ex-wife. Y/N has only seen her once and now that it was her second time, she still felt intimidated.

“Hi.” Y/N unties her apron and hooks it on the hook beside her. She felt insecure to be in such a lousy outfit compared to her boyfriend’s supermodel ex-wife.

“I’m sorry I came out of the blue. I got your address from my assistant and I wanted to speak to you.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Come inside. Did you see any paparazzi.”

“Harry told me to go through the back.” Does she still speak to Harry? He’s been ignoring me for a few days now.

“Um Okay. Would you like anything?”

“No.” She gives a soft smile as she looks around her apartment. She eyes Harry sweater laying on the other couch and takes a swallow. “I wanted to see you face to face than through call. Plus I wanted to see the apartment my husband would sneak off to every night.”

“I’m sorry about what Harry and I did to you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She shakes her head. “You’re just sorry because you got caught.” Y/N’s eyes widen. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. I came here to get some closure so I can move on with my life. We sold our house in hidden hills. Although my marriage was broken I think being publicly humiliated was traumatizing enough.”

“I understand.” she tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Does he make you feel special? Make you feel like your the only girl in the world?” She eyes her apartment once more. “Does he fuck you until you forget your own name?”

“I’m sorry what the fuck.” Y/N stands up and crosses her arms. “What are doing here? Get to the point.”

“I’m just here to tell you that whatever he makes you feel right now, it’s going to disappear. After all, he’s famous. He can have anything in the world. It won’t take too long until he gets tired of you.”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“You should’ve gotten out of my marriage before you weaselled yourself in bitch!”

“Leave!” Y/N shouts. As she takes the woman’s Gucci bag and throws it towards her door. After she left, Y/N couldn’t help but cry and lose her appetite for lunch.

I’m a whore. I’m a whore. I’m nothing but a whore.

She was starting to get used to having a pale life. Where there were no butterflies or colours. No new exciting promotions or scenarios at work. Now she adapted to a routine of eat, sleep and repeat.

What sparked her day differently today, however, was the arms wrapped around her as she woke up in her sheets. It was him.

“Harry?” She slowly opens her eyes as she turns onto her back to see him half-awake as he laid down on the pillow beside her.

“Hi.” He gives her a soft smile.

“What are you doing here?” She sits up and looks at her phone. “Don’t you have a show tomorrow in Canada?”

“Mhm. I missed you though.” He pulls himself closer to her and kisses her arm.

“You’ve been ignoring my texts this past week.” She pushes her arm off him and pouts.

“That’s because I was busy and I was scared I might tell you my little secret a bit too early.”

“What?”

“Get dressed.”

Y/N kept silent as she watched Harry drive in his car. She sat in the passenger seat observing the way he drove. One of his hands on the wheel as the other held her hand. The shades on his eyes resting so pretty on the bridge of his nose. He was such a dream to look at.

“How have you been, baby? How’s that job at the art gallery?” He glances at her before pulling his hand away so he can take a bite out of her bagel. It was the early morning so the sun was just about to rise as they continue to drive forward.

“It’s been boring. No one has been really talking to me. If they do, they ask if I can get you to meet them.” She rolls her eyes and takes his arm so she can take a bite of the bread in his hand.

“Your boyfriend is famous? He can’t be that popular?”

“He was actually trending for a few days.” She smiles. “How have you been?”

“I’m still getting shit from my management because of what happened a month ago.” He takes another bite of the bagel as he keeps his eyes on the road. “You know, I think if the gossip sources would stop talking about it, everyone could move on. This is about us not them. They’re just judging us without any mercy.”

“I know.” Y/N thinks back about the death threats flooding her Instagram dms.

“We’re here.” Harry signals his light as he turns into a long-hidden driveway. Suddenly a big beautiful white home comes into view. Y/N never thought houses this big would be in Malibu.

“Who’s house is this?” She asks as she gazes at the beautiful sunset behind the home. The ocean was beautiful as the sunlight reflected against it. Harry ignores her as they both approach the main door.

Y/N was waiting for him to knock or call the owner but instead, he opens it. “Harry, you can’t do that!” He smiles and looks at her.

“Why not?” He walks in and looks straight at the big window showing the water.

“This isn’t your house.”

“True.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns himself towards her. He takes his hands and rests them on her waist.

“Then uh who’s is it?” She widens her eyes and looks around the beautiful big home.

“It’s ours.”

“What? Is this why you’ve been ignoring my texts?” he nods as she jumps into his arms.

“I was a bit busy decorating a new home and running a world tour.”

“I love you. I hope you know that.” She gives a small smile and hides her face in his chest.

“I love you too baby.” He smiles and spins her around. “I’m sorry for all the shit I put you through.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for the new home.” she pulls away and looks at the view in front of them. She takes a big gulp and looks at him.

And as much as Harry thought this was his happy ending with the girl he loves, he never took into account how much their exposed affair has impacted her.

He never realized that she didn’t want to stay in California anymore. That she feels like a new stranger in this life that she built. That her dream career was taken away from her. What’s going to happen? Can love truly sustain them both as reality continues to stuff their consequences down their throats?

“As much as I want to live here with you here, Harry… I don’t think I can. I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Y/N.” Harry was not expecting that answer. “It will be like the usual you know, you already know what to expect.” He tries to convince her.

“No, I won’t.” She shakes her head. Why does she have to always be the one to ruining things for them? Maybe, because on the inside, she feels like a house can’t make her feel better about her new life? “You’re going to be gone most of the time. What happens if we end up like your marriage?”

“Don’t you see I’m trying?” He speaks a bit more in a serious tone. “I know with your new job you won’t be able to live in your shoebox apartment without your mum’s help. I want to take care of you!”

“What are people going to think? You’re living with your mistress!”

“Fuck what people think! I thought you said we were going to be in this together.” He was confused. Why couldn’t she just live with him in this house he bought for her.

“Harry, I did say that and I still do but don’t force me to move in with you. I’m not ready.”

“What can possibly be holding you back?” His voice softens.

“My life is falling apart and being picked every day!” She rubs her eyes in frustration.

“Everyone knows we’re together, isn’t that what you wanted.”

“Not like this, Harry. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do but it happened. Now we can just be together despite what they say about our cheating scandal.”

“No one wants to hire me” She looks at him again with disappointment in her eyes.

“You have a job already at the gallery. What do you mean?”

“The owner owes a favour to my mom but I can’t use anything useful with all the experience I have. Every management and label rejected me before I could even get an interview.”

“Are you saying all of this is my fault.” He scoffs. “Y/N, it's a job. There are tons more out there that you can use your experience for.”

“I don’t think you understand how important my job was to me.”

“The job that I got you?” He sarcastically replies back. “I’ll try and get you-”

“Shut up.” She rolls her eyes.

“Okay fine, you don’t want to move in with me. Where do we go from here?” He lets out a sigh and looks around the home. He was mad they weren’t going to live here but he didn’t want her to leave him.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. I understand. You can leave, they all do.” Y/N immediately looks away from the window and looks at him instead.

“Who said I was leaving. I love you.” She raises her hand next to his. “We can wait until I feel like I’m ready to start a new chapter.”

“Actually I have a plan.” He smiles mischievously at her and pulls her out of the home.

Thankfully, Harry brought her to a hidden beach where they could spend some time together after being apart for so long. They spent hours talking about their lives and new things they haven’t shared with each other before.

Y/N even told him everything about how she’s been feeling these past few days. She came to the decision that Los Angeles isn’t for her anymore. And although she would love to live with Harry, she needed to figure out her life first. After all, this was her only serious relationship.

And because he was so understanding and patient with her after he learned about everything she was hiding from him. He made sure to be the boyfriend he should’ve been a year ago.

That’s when she knew he had to marry her.

2 years later…

“Harry!” Y/N calls him from the stairs.

It’s been two years since they began to date publicly after their affair was exposed. Luckily a few months after, his divorce was finalized and the media laid off their backs.

Now the couple lives happily together in their new home but it isn’t in Malibu but instead his home in London where he first brought her to. It’s were they made up and realized that they belong to each other -this had to be their home. And suddenly it felt like London belonged to them where they can start a new chapter in their lives. There was barely any paparazzi here and everyone accepted Y/N with open arms, especially Anne.

“What’s wrong, babe?” He runs down the stairs with a gym towel on his shoulder.

“Take Evelyn please.” She gently gives their 1-year-old baby to her Finacé. “I have to run down the office. Louis needs me.”

Funny enough when they moved to London, a job offer was presented to her from Harry’s bandmate Louis Tomlinson. Due to their long term time hiatus from the band, he decided to start his own management company and help aspiring artists start their journey off in the right hands.

Now, Y/N worked as a marketing agent for the company. Although there was no Rob or Marissa, she did find herself having more memories here at fearless management.

Maybe the only thing left to do is get married?

You taught me a secret language

I can't speak with anyone else

And you know damn well

For you, I would ruin myself

A million little times

#Harry Styles #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #cheating!harry #husband!harry #onedirection fanfic #onedirection one shots #harrystyles oneshots #harrystyles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harrystylesstories #solo harry #soft!y/n #harry styles one direction #one direction #fanfiction

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the-silentium · 3 years

Text

Home Sweet Home

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 7569 words

Warnings: Angst, sexual innuendos.

A/N: Last “soft” chap before the action come back ~

**Words in bold are words said in French, which means the clones can’t understand it.**

Taglist: @clone-rambles / @mandaloriandin / @apathetic-catastrophie / @jenstar1992-2 / @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @lackofhonor / @gaymasonjar / @depthsreturn / @koskareevesismyqueen / @leonidas-banana-phone

____________________

Nothing changed. Not the obnoxious people, not the earthy smells, nor the heavy atmosphere. The loud locks of the gates closing behind your group still resonated through your ears, sounding too much like the last nail sealing your coffin shut and not like a protecting device. Was it your instincts telling you that you made the wrong decision? Or was it just the dread of returning somewhere you never wanted to return? Either way, it was clear that you didn't feel any bits of nostalgia at being back between these rocky walls.

Hells, even the council's room was giving off unpleasant vibes with its tall bookcases carved directly into the walls that protected way too many old books that weren't all redacted in French nor in Basic. A map of the planet hung on the furthest wall of the room, the different villages identified with their respective symbol to help with trades, hunts, fights. Frabas' name crossed out in blood-red ink to remind everyone of the overnight genocide that happened there.

The lanterns were the only nice things in the room. The soft green and blue crystals contained within the glass enclosure bathed the whole room in their light. Maybe if you focussed on them long enough their glow would soothe your mind.

"Excuse me? You spit on it?" Tech's sudden high pitch tone was surprising enough to pass through your incessant flow of thoughts

"Yeah. Right there." He pointed at an intergrown knot close to the far extremity of the table where the heads usually sat. "What? Did you want me to piss on it? That's a bit too animalistic." Kayden added as soon as he noticed Tech's offended expression that quickly morphed into a disgusted one.

"Honestly, with you people, I wouldn't have been surprised." Crosshair's jeer traveled the room in a second. It took even less to drop Kayden's mood.

His hand tightened around yours and without losing a single second, you matched his grip to keep him from expressing his frustration through anything physical. Now wasn't the time to start a fight between your own team members when several other players might want to hurt you.

If tonight's bad luck could turn into good fortune at least once, now would be the time. The 'diplomats' were out of harm's way, Kayden had technically done what he was told and thus was not considered a traitor, leaving you alone on the spot.

"Look who just found his voice again." He caught your message and used his words instead. "I was sure you'd swallowed your tongue when you ran like a chicken back there."

"And who ran the fastest in the group eh?" The sniper walked to the table. His hands fell flat on the wood to support himself as he leaned forward, daring the brunette at your sides to make a move.

"The fastest is usually the one to survive." He pointed out as he scratched at his clothed chest with his free hand, his right one still prisoner of your grip.

"Crosshair." Hunter slightly pulled him backward by the pauldron and away from the incoming confrontation. "Enough." He added with a growl, clearly remembering how this wasn't his brother. Not fully.

Against all expectation, Crosshair did back off, although he quickly moved his animosity towards the new source of irritation, clear proof that this wasn't the man with whom Hunter had shared so many memories, good or bad. He was a total stranger that didn't respect him at all and lived to push his buttons. Why he stayed with you all was a mystery, although you weren't complaining. Keeping him restrained while in the jungle would have been a true challenge.

It was like waiting for a storm to explode. The dark grey clouds were there, the strong winds blew away everything in their wake, the thunder resonated in the distance, yet there wasn't any droplet of rain. The men faced each other just like in the cave, mere centimeters separated their chest plates and anytime now, the first blow would mark the start of a colossal downpour.

It was nerve-wracking. Even Wrecker and Tech were watching, clearly pondering if they should intervene or if by doing so they would aggravate the situation. You started getting up as the door opened and startled you into seating down again.

Never had you thought that seeing Arlan enter a room would make you feel relieved, yet, this was exactly how you felt at the moment. It seemed like the sudden entrance of an outsider was enough for Crosshair to back off. You subtly crossed your fingers that he wouldn't lash out at the leader even though the scene would very probably make you feel so much better. The consequences of going against Arlan just weren't worth it.

Before the dark-haired leader could notice it, you separated your hand from Kayden's, both your backs straightened and your unbothered masks came back on. Wearing the well-worn suit of this fake cocky personality was deeply uncomfortable but truly necessary. Over the years it became your best shield and Kayden your best ally.

"Take a seat." Arlan waved towards the table as he walked deeper into the room, passing Hunter and Crosshair like they weren't even there. It took years to be able to read the black-haired leader, but it definitely came in handy now.

His calm tone hid a deep irritation that showed through the tightness gripping the muscles around his eyes. He quickly tamed his features as he took place at the end of the table, his elbows immediately meeting the hardwood of the armchairs to allow his fingers to interlace before him.

Soon the 4 seats opposing you were occupied with rigid troopers. Their helmets still firmly on would have been seen as an enormous lack of respect if only Arlan's attention wasn't already focussed on two nasty boots dripping mud onto the piece of art that was the table.

Arlan only needed one look to communicate thoroughly his thoughts. The hard gaze that could easily be misinterpreted as a constipated one transpired enough threats that Kayden removed his boots without any further delay. The ultimatum was clear and you both knew that there was nothing Arlan despised more than repeating himself. Well, maybe you two were the firsts on his list, but that was especially because you loved to make him repeat himself.

If only he didn't look like there was an entire fire-ants colony in his pants, Kayden would have kept his feet up for a bit longer just to raise the man's blood pressure a little. You swore he got more grey hair each time he had to talk with the two of you.

The disapproving sigh accompanying the stormy grey hues boring deeply into yours was a true gift to Kayden whose smirk widened in consequence.

"Do you know why you're here?" The question resonated within the room with utmost seriousness, a seriousness that you forced yourself to shrug nonchalantly in response.

"Surely not because you missed me." You placed a smirk on your lips to copy your sidekick and complete the infernal duo act.

His dark-grey sleeves rode up his arms as he bent forward, his elbows now resting on the table, to get a closer look at you, 3 chairs away. Whilst being very tempting, flinching under his hard stare was out of the question. Four months in a medbay with kind people almost made you forget what the world was really made of; selfish people who always looked out for weaknesses to exploit and were eager to beat others down in hope to raise themselves up.

"We are here to talk relations between the Republic and your planet." Hunter sharply stated, cutting short the staring contest. "My team was sent in a preliminary manner to inform you of the Republic's intentions seeing as your representatives couldn't be reached through official channels. In the following days, two senators will be coming here with adequate troops to talk in the Senate's name."

How the room got hotter in a second was a mystery. All you knew was that even though his tone was borderline too crisp to be qualified as diplomatic, Hunter's words were so perfectly chosen that you wondered if he'd done this kind of job before.

As the silence following Hunter's declaration stretched, Arlan's gaze moved to the hard visor of the commando trooper. The intensity of his stare left you thinking that maybe he was able to see through the shade. Unfazed, Hunter stared right back as you did just moments prior.

You nearly missed it. If you hadn't been watching Arlan as intently as you were doing, the minuscule flash in his eye would have been overlooked. A muscle jumped in his jaw, filling you with dread. Something was wrong. Somehow he had the upper hand and he was internally relishing his win.

"A very well executed lie, but I am sorry to announce you that the Republic won't come here, Sergeant. Not after the Jedis signed a treaty to never come on this planet ever again." You were sure he paused just to get a reaction out of the commando. Hunter's helmet hid his expression perfectly. If he'd reacted or not was totally lost on everyone, unfortunately, it wasn't the same for Kayden whose eyes grew as big as saucers. "No Jedi, no clone, no senator, no Separatist, no outsider is welcome here."

Say what now? Never before had you ever heard of Jedis ever landing a foot on Fors, even less signing a treaty.

Hunter's helmet slightly dipped in your direction, surely to get some answers through your body language. Surely, he got the message when you gulped, wariness filling your eyes as you continued to stare at the man in his mid-50s. His message had been pretty clear from the very beginning. That he felt the need to add that the clones weren't welcome caused doubts in your village ethics to creep into your mind.

As far as you knew, no one had ever been executed in cold blood. Sure, you'd heard stories as a child about how people who were a tad bit too disturbing in the community would vanish overnight, obviously thrown out into the jungle to be feasted on by some hungry creature. Without knowing if they were true events or simply a way to make children behave, you took a habit of sticking with Kayden as soon as the firsts Furants that created their nests in the crooks of the walls circling the village entered the gates to hide, signaling that 7 pm had recently passed and the Nightmares would show up in under an hour. After all, there was no better nuisance in Alryan than the two of you.

Knowing that Arlan's smugness was carefully hidden under layers of practiced indifference, a very tantalizing urge to break your knuckles once again send tingles into your dominant hand. Breaking his nose for a second time would definitely help your mood as well as everyone else's in the room, you were sure of it.

"The- the Jedis? But they never-"

"It is not common knowledge." Arlan archly cut Kayden short and rolled his eyes with that very particular expression that made you feel like the stupidest idiot in the galaxy. In response, the tingles in your hand intensified. "This treaty is way older than me after all. We never needed the Republic's help in any way, not then and certainly not now." He at least had the decency to meet his eyes as he talked.

"And what do you think of the Nightmares? Frabas-" You piped up, the image of a traumatized red-head girl shaking in her bloody clothes popped in your mind. "They could've helped with that."

"They are protectors." He closed his eyes in exasperation and pinched his nose like he'd repeated the concept over and over again to a child that never retained anything.

"They don't protect shit! They kill us!"

Where had he been his whole life? Every night they came and howled, screeched, hissed, yapped and laughed on the other side of the gates in hope of having some juicy flesh and fresh blood to appease their hunger and thirst. Some even went as far as hitting the gates repeatedly in hope of breaking their way in. 10 hours per night, 368 nights a year, every year.

"They protect the Core that's in you--" He interrupted himself as soon as he noticed the irritation breaching his mask, allowing venom to drip through the closing cracks. His rage fit only lasted a second but it was a second too much. He gave you more than he wanted you to know.

"What do you mean? In me?" You could feel yourself starting to shake. In apprehension, anger or fear you couldn't tell. There was too much going on at the same time, assaulting your already tired mind.

"Nothing that you need to know." His tone was definitive, his grey eyes conveying the same message.

"Bullshit!" You jump to your feet just as he pushed his chair to get up. "If it's in me like you say, I deserve to know!"

Your yell must have triggered something, because as soon as the words flew from your mouth, Rhian and his troops entered the room, bows fully bent and ready to shoot in your direction. Elijah had his hammer in both hands, fully prepared to use it against a clone- your money went on Wrecker- if needed and Pete was ready to blow a tranquilizer- or it could easily be a fast-acting poison- into someone's neck.

The answer to the intrusion was immediate. Wrecker's chair went flying behind him at the impact of his legs when he followed his CO's movement. All four troopers stood on their side of the table, imposing and totally ready to enter a fight if need be. You and Kayden though? Totally not ready. You were unarmed and by the time you took hold of Kayden's bow, at least three arrows would have found their way into your body.

"All you really deserved was to die on Murphy Day." He snarled in your direction as his impatience once again showed through his slipping mask. "Throw them in the slammer."

That's it. Goodbye knuckles. Always the perceptive, Kayden grabbed your upper arm, right below the Algax's clean-cut, and pulled you back to his side even before you made the first step towards the bastard. Always there to keep you alive for another day. What a nice friend.

"Hands behind your head." Rhian barked as he approached you and Kayden from behind.

Doing as you were told, you noticed the troopers hesitating before doing as ordered when you nodded at them. Tech lifted his good hand, the other keeping hold of Crosshair's cage. One of the archers went to seize it, but a sudden shoulder to the sternum kept him away.

He's not just a nerd. You smirked as the archer stumbled.

"Let them keep it." Rhian waved off the fuming archer who definitely wanted to go back and win his fight. Too bad. "Walk ahead. You know the way." Rhian nodded towards the door after getting a hold of Kayden's bow and quiver, his very own bow aimed at the floor. The string was stretched just enough to cause serious damage if he needed to defend himself quickly, but he seemed to know that it wasn't needed.

Kayden led the way with you in tow, Elijah and Pete moved away from the door to let you pass at a safe distance. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Rhian breaking formation to move up to Arlan, who surely waved him over.

You sighed as you remembered that he didn't even tell you why he wanted you here.

The clone's boots resonated against the rock floor at each of their steps, close enough to appease your mind.

"Do you know a way out of here?" Hunter's voice emanated softly within your ear.

You moved your shoulder blades in a circular motion as if you were stretching the muscles and nodded your head at the same time as to not look too suspicious to the archers escorting the group. Good thing that they didn't notice your earpiece yet.

Wrecker must have been the one right behind you because he relayed the message to Hunter through the private line.

"Now?" You rotated your head from side to side like when you needed to crack your neck.

"No." Came Wrecker's whisper.

"In the slammer?" A small nod.

"Yeah."

"Then we wait and we get out as soon as possible." Hunter told his half-plan to the Batch who hummed their approvals.

Once again the unusual parade that you formed along with the armored men attracted many curious eyes. Ignoring them was easier this time around, the familiarity of their chary gazes finally coming back to allow you to concentrate on something else.

This part of the village was carved so deeply into the mountain that even the occasional howls coming from the jungle couldn't be heard. There couldn't have been better protection for a population of more than 700 people than a natural barrier of rock. Sure, this very convenient refuge could easily become a tomb for a lot of villagers in the event of a breach, but several emergency tunnels were created for this very situation. They were maintained at a perfect condition in case a repeat of Frabas' catastrophe ever came to happen.

Every Alryan learned the location of every single tunnel at the youngest of age. They were only to be used in emergency cases and right now, it was an emergency. It all depended on the perspective.

"It never changed." You stated quietly as the slammer's entrance came into view, the dark purple glow emanating from its depths was a stark contrast to the lively colors of the main area.

Goosebumps rose on your arms as you followed Kayden down the tunnel. The nearby natural well raised the humidity in these parts of the mountain and thus caused the air to become colder. Just my luck, you thought as the fresh air infiltrated your clothes by the multiple tears in their fabric.

"In there." Rhian speed-walked to catch up with Kayden and direct him to a cell carved into the wall on his left.

You were locked up with him, Wrecker and Hunter got situated in the cell facing yours, Crosshair and Tech on the one right beside theirs.

Right as Tech got in after a growling Crosshair, Rhian took hold of the cage and kicked Tech inside who landed in a yelp. You weren't even gripping the bars yet that the heavy door closed behind the engineer.

"Give him back!"

"Sorry 'bout that." He threw the cage in the air twice, the flame within shaking frantically as it hit the bars. "Orders are orders." He ignored the yells of his name bouncing in the detention center and walked out unbothered, his men in tow.

"How quick can you get us out of here?" The urgency in Hunter's tone only added to your own raiding anxiety. What would Arlan do to Crosshair? He was totally defenseless.

"Couple of minutes. But we'll need Back-Up. I hope you have it." You turned to Kayden who scoffed in mocked offense.

"You have back-up?" Tech wondered out loud, tilting his head. "I thought no one would help you here."

"Jeez. Thanks for the vote of confidence." Kayden held his heart before reaching for his chest pocket. "Back-up is my Godot." He pulled a hand-sized lizard from his pocket to show the Batch.

The Godot's orange scales shone softly at Kayden's contact, their light reflecting onto the soft line of baby blue leaves growing on each side of its spine. Its three-fingered paws grabbed fingers and clothes to remain in place while two black eyes moved independently from one another to take in what was happening around. Its long tail wrapped around Kayden's wrist as he lifted it up to show off, the small leaves at its end shining brightly in surprise.

Wrecker gasped and lifted his helmet to get a better view of the animal. "That's what I saw the first time, Tech! It's the lizard that disappeared!"

"Nothing disappeared Wrecker. There was nothing there." Tech rebuked.

"Don’t be so sure about that! They can camouflage themselves, right Back-Up?" At the half-baked order, the tiny lizard shut off its light and changed its skin pigmentation to copy its environment to perfection.

"It disappeared Tech! See? That's what I saw and you didn't believe me!" Wrecker's tone raised as he pointed to Kayden's seemingly empty outstretched hand.

"Wrecke-" You tried to warn him to keep his voice down but heard steps coming your way.

"Back-up, go get the master key at home." Kayden hurriedly whispered to the Godot and quickly kneeled to allow it access to the ground so it could wander away and get the required object.

A guard appeared at the end of the corridor just as Kayden got up and threw himself onto the upper hammock fixed to the walls. He moved around to get comfortable and into the right position, hands under his head.

"So, I've heard that Stockholm syndrome was hard on you." Brett, a particularly annoying scout, mocked from behind his beard.

"Nope. Still don't like y'all." You replied nonchalantly despite the urge to punch him through the bars.

"I was talking about them." He pointed to the two cells containing the clones and you lifted a single eyebrow.

"Tech, definition of Stockholm syndrome please." You asked, maintaining eye contact during the whole process.

"Stockholm syndrome," You saw the genius perked up at your request. Sadly, he didn't lift a finger in the air while he recited the meaning of the word. "Is a psychological response wherein a captive begins to identify closely with his or her captors, as well as with their agenda and demands." He ended with a nod and the movement satisfied you enough to let the lack of a finger go.

"That means you dumbass." You spat as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I'm with them willingly."

"Get fucked!" Kayden shouted with a laugh that got half a smile out of you.

"You? Our captive? It sure felt like the other way around." He finally switched to basic and the hate coating his words told you that he wasn't talking about the pranks and snarky attitude, no, he was talking about something bigger than that.

"What are you talking about?" Maybe you could get more answers out of him than you did with Arlan.

He scoffed. "Stop trying to play the idiot. Between the two of you, Kayden's the best at it."

You ignored said idiot's thanks to press the matter. "Okay and let's imagine I really don't know what the hell you're talking about. What in the damn world did I do?" You remembered Arlan's word and almost added what is wrong with me? but Brett was already dropping the three medicine canisters to the ground, out of reach from either your cell or the clones' and went away.

"You live."

You sat on the ground, drained of every ounce of energy you once had. What was wrong with you? Why did everyone want you dead? The fear you felt at Arlan's words came back as you thought about what it could all mean. The Nightmares who stopped appearing when you left and came back when you did. Whatever the Core was that supposedly resided in you and the fact that the Lumsin knew what it was while you didn't. That the villagers never saw you as an annoying brat but a vile oppressor.

You faintly heard Kayden talking with Tech about Back-up, but couldn't make out the exact words, your own thoughts being way too loud for you to clearly hear anything outside your head.

"It's alright. Don't worry about it." An arm fell on your shoulders and pulled you into Kayden's side who now sat next to you on the ground, successfully pulling you out of your own mind. Yet, as comforting as his gesture was supposed to be, you only felt guiltier. Even when everyone else pointed their fingers at you, he was still there to keep yourself up even after you'd vanished on him.

Kayden scratched the clothes over his heart again and cut off your incoming guilty declaration.

"Question. If the half-skull one was to break my jaw or somethin' and that you didn't see it happen, would you believe me if I told you it was him?" Kayden asked, frowning too deeply for you to brush the question off as one of his stupid ones.

"Wha-?" Then it dawned on you. "Did you threaten him?" You asked Hunter, voice raising in octaves.

You knew Kayden probably deserved it, but he was your best friend. You've been helping each other for more than 15 years and there was no way you'd let him get beaten for a stupid jealousy tantrum.

An invisible hand squeezed your heart as you felt Kayden relaxing against your side. He doubted that you'd listen to him. More importantly, he doubted that you'd trust his word over someone else's. Sure it was Hunter's word, but you knew the Sergeant was not in his right mind and not only because of the irrational feeling.

"He wouldn't stop talking." The unbothered tone in which he answered shocked you.

"Yet you've never threatened Tech."

"That's not the same." Why must he sound like he truly believed that he did nothing wrong?

"You may not value his life and health, but I do. A lot." You emphasized the last word so he got the message. "And his word is the only single one in the galaxy that I never ever doubted."

Kayden's breath sharply filled his lungs and Hunter's fingers curled into fists. You still deeply loved the dark-haired Sergeant and seeing him frustrated at your words made a real number on your insides but that rational part of your brain told you that he would tire of you someday and would leave, whereas Kayden had shown countless of times that he'd be there to hold your hand, push your back and pull you up whenever needed.

"Good to know."

Why did his acknowledgment of your words make you sick? You'd said those words yourself and they were true, so how could they hurt that much? If it wasn't of the half-circles traced on the back of your right hand, you certainly would have had a physical reaction. It could have been hiding in your hammock or tears leaking from your eyes, you didn't know.

"You don't trust us?" Wrecker's hurt translated in his low, nearly inaudible tone if it wasn't of the earbud deeply pushed into your ear canal.

"I do Wrecker. I really do. It's me that I don't." Damn. For someone who wanted to avoid feelings-talks like the plague, you found yourself right in the middle of the deepest one ever.

"I don't understand." He admitted.

"I-" You sighed, trying to find the words that would explain something you didn't know how to explain. "I don't myself Wrecker. I make people despise me and-" The words escaped you. Out of exasperation, your free hand moved up to rub your closed eyelids and drag the pads of your fingers down your cheeks.

"When they don't you persuade yourself they do and you tell yourself that they'll give you up so you start to doubt them even when there's nothing to worry about." Kayden shrugged at your wide eyes looking at him. "Don't be surprised I know you better than yourself. You did the same shit with me but I didn't let you."

"Then why did you doubt yourself against Hunter?"

" 'cuz you love him." He answered in your native tongue and you were grateful for it. You weren't ready to say the words out loud and if Kayden, the person who just demonstrated that he knew you like the palm of his hand, said those words himself, then he'd throw your feelings out in the open and you couldn't have that. Not when your brain still expected the Bad Batch to get back to their ship and leave you on Fors, where you belonged.

"You were there longer."

"Yeah, but that was because you couldn't escape me. Give them their chance. You might be surprised." He patted your shoulder like an old man who gave advice to a youngster.

"We wouldn't give you up. You're our friend!" Wrecker added once the conversation in a foreign language died.

"If you still doubt our friendship, then you might want to remember that we passed hundreds of hours training you to be our pilot and that we lied to our superiors to keep you." Tech pointed out, this time with the finger in the air. It brought the tiniest of smiles to your lips.

"Or remember the moments shared." Hunter surprised you with his quiet words that Kayden definitely couldn't hear without a comm device. Had he realized that he was fighting a non-existent enemy? Or did he feel as bad as you following your exchange?

"Or you can remember that you're a freak." Tech slapped his lean brother's shoulder

"So I belong with you guys? Yeah, I'll- I'll do my best to remember all that." A chuckle escaped your lips. "Thanks." You added under your breath, to which the boys nodded and Wrecker smiled brightly.

"Is your chest okay?" Tech asked and pointed at Kayden who was still scratching his torso.

"Yeah, 's just itchy. I think Kerth put some poison Ivy in my clothes. I wouldn't be surprised." He pulled his shirt forward to look at his skin. He winced. "That does look like it."

"You never get tired of looking at yourself?" A soft feminine voice chuckled from down the hallway.

Soft brown eyes shone behind fiery red locks, their owner walking straight to your cell where she stopped to pass you a hot container. You'd recognize that smell everywhere and apparently so did your stomach who growled loudly in anticipation of receiving some soup.

"Good timing, I see." She chuckled, put her pack on the ground and offered you a container. "It's not poisoned, I promise. I did it myself." She assured in basic when you kept watching her hands without making any move towards the food.

Still unmoving, Kayden took it upon himself to grab two containers and let the redhead give the clones their servings.

"They wanted me to only feed the soldiers but I slipped some for you two as well. For all the spare crusts." She nodded at you, who kept watching her in silence. Before turning around to go back to where she came from, the woman had the kindness to grab the discarded medicine canisters and offer them to Kayden. "Take care."

Wait. You had to tell her. It was like your brain forgot how everything worked. Opening your mouth wasn't hard compared to finding what to say. Even then your throat constricted in an attempt to shut you up, but you couldn't let her go without telling her.

She deserved to know.

"Fleena." Was all you managed and it was enough to stop her in her tracks. When she turned, your hand was already fishing around in your pocket for the small piece of wood.

She came back as you brought your closed fist forward and dropped the dirty necklace on her open hand.

She stared at it, surprise taking over her soft features in a flash as soon as she recognized the symbol. She turned it to inspect the back and now was the right time for the earth to open beneath your ass and take you away.

"Where did you get that?" The tremors in her voice send a knife through your heart.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you made sure to choose your words better than with Hunter. "Nixon was a Wanderer."

"He-" She started with hope until she registered your sentence. "Was?"

There it was. The moment to own what you did finally arrived.

"What did you do?" She pressed as you kept silent, unable to say it out loud.

"It wasn't him anymore, Fleena. He hadn't grown up and kept walking in circles on his bleeding feet. He was tormented."

You freed him. You helped him. Now that her horrified hazel eyes bore into yours, Crosshair's words that were so helpful before held no sense.

"He was still my brother." She clutched the necklace to her chest, tears running down her cheeks.

"Nixon was gone."

"I don't expect you to understand. You don't know anything about having a sibling."

The silence following her retreating steps was even heavier than before. No. That wasn't true. The boys spoke in the background and in your ear, prompting you to remove the device to have some peace.

"You're right, I don't." You grumbled in your knees that were now up to your face to hide your features, your arms tightly wrapped around them to keep them close.

"That's the biggest bullshit that ever came out of your mouth." Kayden scoffed next to you. "What do you think I am then? Your friend?" He puffed like it was the stupidest joke he'd ever been told. "Fuck no. We've been family ever since your dad died so cut the crap or I'll hit you."

I should be punching you for saying such stupid stuff.

"For real. I'll hit you so hard you won't ignore me again." He shuffled around to better position himself, arm lifting-

"I've abandoned you." You spat more at you than at him.

"Siblings sucks but we love them anyway." He shrugged. "You're no exception."

Tears gathered in your eyes. Even after leaving him alone to fight for himself, Kayden still loved you as much as before and never once held a grudge against your actions. He was a true god-given gift and you'd treated him unfairly.

Pain exploded into your shoulder and you found yourself colliding with the ground.

"The fuck?" Four spots on your shoulder hurt so deeply that it didn't take long for you to realize that he'd hit you with his knuckles.

"My monthly quota was not yet achieved." He smirked, watching you massage the beaten skin.

"Don't you think I'm hurt enough already?"

"Stop whining, we have Biogel." He shook the metallic container before your face.

"That thing hurts like hell." You groaned, pushing his hand away to sit straight.

"When did you become such a baby?" You shot him the deadliest glare you had in reserve. "Hey. It's a very small price to pay for completely healed wounds in under 30 minutes."

"Completely healed?" Tech inquired, eying the matching container in his hands that Kayden pushed him.

"Yeah! One good layer and bye-bye! Works for sprained stuff too, just takes a little longer." Kayden answered as he helped you apply the cold sticky gel onto your arms. "Little tips: let someone else put it on you." He added as you hissed and groaned under the burning feeling that came with the product.

Your hands closed and opened repeatedly to keep from hitting Kayden in retaliation for the pain he was putting you through. The raging fire led to intense stinging that you could describe as white-hot needles poking your damaged skin.

"Please remember that you love me." Kayden said right before he dropped a huge blob of Biogel onto the hole in your leg. Had he not jumped away, your elbow would have connected with his chest at high speed. Instead, all that got injured were your nerves, your vocal cords and Hunter's head.

"I'll murder you if you do that again." You whimpered while clutching your upper thigh in hope of cutting every pain transmission from your leg to your brain.

"Good thing it was the last one!" He laughed from his side of the cell, Biogel discarded to the profit of the warm bowl of soup which he was already drinking like he'd been starved for a week.

Wrecker's gasp and groans filled the air. A quick glance his way showed Hunter applying a coat of the translucent substance on his burnt hands and neck as well as on the cuts on his arms. Then came Hunter's turn who covered some scratches from the Yappians and after some thought applied some of it on the side of his forehead. No sound escaped his throat, the only proof of the pain assaulting his nerves being the scrunching of his face, unlike Tech who yelped when Crosshair carelessly applied the gel on his wrist and arms. Then, like pain didn't affect him at all, he splattered some on his swollen ankle and it was done.

"I'm sure no one really wants to eat right now, but it'd be good to eat the food until Back-up comes back and we have to leave." Kayden reminded.

"What's that?" Crosshair asked, more worried about the soup than Wrecker was. The tank was already slurping the soup down, mindful of his sensible fingers.

"In basic I guess it translates as bone soup." Wrecker stopped abruptly, mouth still scotched to the bowl. He eyed you in distress, pondering if it was safe to swallow or not. "It's good, despite the name. Hunters usually eat that before a hunt to boost their systems, right Y/N?" Just for the sake of the game, you nodded. It was true anyway.

"And eh… what's in it?" Tech moved the container in small circles to try and identify what was floating in the light yellow liquid.

"Roots, meats, some veggies, guts and ground bones." You kept your poker face as Kayden enumerated the 'ingredients' and Wrecker lost all colors. "Where do you think the name comes from?"

Wrecker spat his enormous gulp and you laughed to the point of tears, soon joined by your best frie- brother.

"He's just fucking with y'all, Wreck. It's called bone soup because there's bone marrow in it to help with our joints. And there’s no guts. We're no savages." You did your best to control your laugh before digging into your soup eagerly. How Kayden always managed to get your mood up was a total mystery, but it always worked and you were grateful for it.

"Could've fooled me." Crosshair taunted.

"Ya can choke on it." You said at the same time Kayden did, getting a laugh out of it.

The delicious soup filled your stomach in less than 10 gulps and it wasn't until you put your bowl down that you realized how good it made you feel to fill that emptiness in you. The soup wasn't enough to make you sleepy after a nice meal and provided just enough nutrients for everyone to be able to face the fast-approaching escape without a problem. Mixed with the Biogel, you were back at the top of your games.

Arlan really made an error in taking care of the group.

"What now? What's your plan?" Hunter wondered, posing his container on the ground.

You met gaze with Kayden and he nodded confidently. "How well can you all swim in your armors?"

"In calm water, we are fine but slow. We can't go in strong water. The current will catch in the plastoid and will drag us down."

A hum resonated from within your throat and you pucker your lips. "You can't give them up. That scratch out the underground well and the waterfall." You taped your lips in thought. Watching Tech who still drank with only one hand, you knew that hiking wasn't an option as well. For now at least.

"Then it's the dark pit." Kayden pointed out.

It indeed was the last possible option. The other remaining one would be to use the front gates and it was the least possible one.

"Yeah. The other tunnels would take too long to get out and then we'd lose too much time walking back at the Old Man's cave." You recalled from your mental map of the jungle. "I'm fairly sure we have two hours until dawn. The Old Man's Cave is 15 minutes away from here if we run."

"Then we run." Hunter agreed.

"Now, to get out… Hey, big guy." Kayden called. "What's the name?"

"Wrecker." He answered proudly, almost puffing his chest out.

Kayden scoffed. "Obviously. Should'a figured." He turned to you. "Is it too late to change my name?"

The moron was too far for a shoulder slap, so you showed your exasperation with a roll of your eyes. "Stop screwing around and tell us your idea."

"Yeah yeah." The childish tone wasn't surprising on his part. He turned his attention back to the tall clone. "So, Wrecker, I bet you're experienced with big shafts so how good are you with pulse-hammers?" In a flash, you threw your empty container at his head with utmost precision that you knew Crosshair would be proud. The flying object was as unexpected for him as the inappropriate sentence was for you and hit him square on the forehead.

"I'll strangle you." You threatened.

"Kinky." He winked while nursing his forehead.

"With what?" Wrecker inquired, too focussed on the unknown term to pick up at the dirty joke.

"Her han-"

"Not that, morron." You cut him off. "The big hammer that exploded that tree back at the pit." You clarified for Wrecker.

"Oh! I've never used one before, but I'm sure it can't be that hard!" Excitement glimmered in his eyes at the perspective of using the powerful weapon.

"Oh believe me it's hard." Kayden smirked way too smugly for your taste.

"Okay. Time out. Planning is paused." You poked the palm of your hand with the fingertips of your other hand. "I call pervert veto card." You deadpanned.

"Oh hell no you can't!" Was there panic in his voice? Yes. Definitely.

"Oh heck yes I can! Once a year for 24 hours and I'm using it now." Thank the gods you'd not used it before.

"But-!"

"No but or butts. No sexual reference in any form, implied or not. 24 hours starting now." He glared at you from his spot two meters away. You could have laughed at his face that perfectly mirrored a kid who just got his Christmas gift stolen directly from its small weak hands.

"You're fucking me in the ass." He grumbled like an overgrown petulant child.

You lifted an eyebrow. "Try again. You can do it."

"Party pooper."

"There you go." As you turned to the rest of them, a laugh escaped your lips at the clones’ expressions.

Crosshair, despite his feelings blockade, was covering his mouth, Wrecker was laughing his ass off, Tech looked relieved behind his horrified eyes and Hunter chuckled. He appeared to be pleased and somewhat totally used to the situation, which grabbed your curiosity.

Later. You forced a cough to get everyone's attention. "Let's continue. To answer your question, Wrecker, handling a pulse-hammer is not hard. Only remember to not touch the head," You had to stop to point at Kayden in a threatening manner when you sensed a perverted comment about to escape his idiotic mouth despite the veto card being used. "And hit with the glowing side. If you hit with the other side, you'll damage the hammer and it'll be useless."

"I can do that!" Wrecker enthusiastically nodded.

"So we plan into exploding our way out of here? What do we do about Cross?" Tech pointed out what he thought was a flaw in your plan.

Right at this moment, Back-Up appeared before Kayden, its fluffy leaves puffing out in pride as Kayden removed the Master key from its belly pouch. What a marvelous creature they were. Being able to fit your own size in an extensible pouch that covered your body from your collarbone to your pelvis was truly amazing and more than practical.

"We'll split. Kayden will guide you guys to the emergency tunnel and I'll go get Cross. I'll meet you all as soon as I can."

You nearly hadn't finished that Hunter inevitably rejected your plan. "No. We stay together."

"We can't. You guys will be the decoy I need to sneak around and find him and having one of you with me will catch attention and slow me down." You cut Hunter as he still looked like he was about to be opposed. "I still have my comms and earbud. I'll contact you every 5 minutes." You offered in an attempt to compromise.

Silence stretched and you got up, already ready to depart. The tingling in your arms and leg had subsided some time ago and to your sweet surprise, applying weight on your leg didn't hurt as much as before.

Kayden unlocked the cells and a hand softly grabbed your forearm. "Fine. You comm every 5 minutes and you take this." He moved to Tech to rummage through his belt and hand you a pistol. "Use it if needed."

You took the pistol with a steady grip despite the uncertainty shaking your guts. It was the very first blaster you've ever had in your hand and it was heavier than you thought. "Don't worry. I will." You assured him, voice strong and unwavering.

But… could you really?

#bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #tcw #star wars #clone force 99 #sergeant hunter #clone trooper tech #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper crosshair #Good Night Good Luck

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yoongi-sugaglider · 3 years

Text

Artemis Rising

The story of a Goddess and a Demi God, star crossed lovers whose story was lost to the complexity of history. The truth is they were wronged. All because of the jealousy of a brother. Can they escape their fate in a modern age? Can reincarnation allow her to finally reunite with the ones who loved her?

genre: angst ; reincarnation/Greek mythology au ; werewolf au

pairing: Yoongi x reader; ot7 x reader ; ft: Ateez

warnings: abusive relationship, physical abuse towards reader, vengeful ot7, inaccurate description of Ateez as aggressive (they’re sweet babies I swear! But Eomma needed a bad guy), fighting, character death, of age drinking (more to be added mayhaps?)

Word count: 3197

Chapter 2

Above the moon waned, it’s glorious light barely casting a glow upon the stilled seas that would normally grace sweet Gaia’s shores.

“My child, why do you weep so?” Leto stepped from the shadows. The soothing calm that normally encased the Titan Goddess of motherhood was gone, replaced with a sense of distress and panic at the sight of her precious daughter weeping upon a piece of sea swept driftwood.

“Mother…” Artemis sobbed, reaching out to the tall figure and crumpling into her lap.

“Artemis, my darling. Speak to me. Who is the cause of your tears?”

It took the moon goddess a while to answer, so wrapped up in her grief that her entire body trembled and the moon shed a little more of its light, now barely a sliver in the sky.

“It’s O...Orion. He’s...he’s gone mother. By mine own hand…”

Leto gasped, pulling away to stare down at Artemis with wide eyes.

“The young hunter boy? The one who’d caught your eye and joined you in your hunts?”

“The very same. Oh mother what do I do?”

The night wore on as the goddess of the moon wept, seeking comfort in the arms of Leto who could only stroke her back in comfort and attempt to soothe her broken soul.

The sun began to rise, it’s golden glow muted and pale as Apollo approached.

“Son. Is this your doing?” A hint of anger leached into the benevolent Titan’s voice as she gave her only son a heated stare.

“Mother...I…”

“You knew it was him!” Artemis stood, short sword in hand as she rounded on her once beloved brother. “You knew and you challenged me anyway! All of this born of your stupid misplaced jealousy!”

“Sister, please I just…”

Artemis cut him off, lunging forward with all of the intent of driving the golden steel of the Gods through his chest.

“Artemis no!!”

***

Panic gripped me as I lunged forward, arm outstretched as if attempting to reach...something.

I shook my head in bewilderment, hoping the motion would wake me up enough to remember the dream that had left me with tear stained cheeks and a pillow soaked in my own grief. As with every other dream of mine though, it’d faded too fast. A wisp of a thing fading away in the morning light.

I sighed, finally allowing my hand to fall to the coolness of the bedsheet. A glance beside me let me know that once again Hongjoong had woken long before me...that or he’d never come to bed as the sheets beside me were as cold and empty as always.

I sighed again, letting the loneliness of the early morning caress my cheeks and dry the tears left over from the formless nightmare. Eventually I was able to get myself motivated enough to get up and start the day. It was honestly a perk working from home that I didn’t have a specific time to get up. But I preferred working on my writing early on in the day so that I could have the evenings to myself to relax and do whatever needed to be done before Hongjoong got home.

After a quick shower and change of clothes I made my way down to the kitchen in the hopes of having a quiet breakfast.

"Miss…"

I couldn't help the squeak that left my lips when Yeosang's strong, deep voice echoed through the vast expanse of the kitchen. Eyes wide I stared at his broad back, confused as to how he even knew I was standing in the doorway. Standing at the stove was Seonghwa, cooking away in a world of his own.

At Yeosang’s acknowledgement of my presence Seonghwa glanced over to me. I couldn’t help but wither under his intense stare. A frown formed between his eyebrows as he took in the bruise on my left cheek that I’d failed to cover up with several layers of concealer along with the way I shrunk away from their combined stares.

Neither of them commented though and it came as a relief that they turned back to their respective tasks after a moment more of silence.

“There’s omelet rolls on the way. Meat’s cooked and on the table.” Seonghwa’s words weren’t spoken to anyone but I knew they were aimed at me. Whispering out a quick thank you I scurried over to the dining table, head down and eyes pinned to the small pile of bacon sitting before me.

The rest of the meal was delivered quickly, the imposing men’s silence deafening as usual as they seemed to tiptoe around me. I’d come to expect and accept it at this point as it seemed that each of my bodyguards was absolutely terrified of reaching out to me in any way.

I could have used the comfort. Used some sort of touch or a soothing word to get through the monotony of my days. But I suppose that’s what Yoongi was for…

So I turned to him. Once dishes were done and put away I began texting him, checking in on his day, asking the usual best friend questions and hanging on to every time the phone would vibrate while I worked in the relative quiet of my little writing corner. Before I’d even realized it, the day had moved on without me.

I glanced up out of the window, startling myself at the abrupt darkness that had swallowed the day and cast the world into the deepest recesses of twilight. Somehow I’d missed lunch and dinner, and the hunger gnawed at my stomach in a way that made me nervous just thinking about it.

Hongjoong would be home by now, and the mere thought of facing him after last night set me on edge.

“Have you been holed up in here all day?”

I couldn’t help the squeak of fear that escaped me. Whipping around I stared wide eyed at Hongjoong who’d somehow walked into my office without me hearing and was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hongjoong...I...I didn’t hear you come in…” I pressed my hand against my chest, struggling to still the rapid beating of my heart.

He smirked, dropping his arms and pushing away from the doorframe. His movements were so smooth, so calculated. My gaze swept his figure as he stalked towards me like a predator, noting he was still in his business suit and tie though the latter was untied and hung loosely from his neck.

“Good. You weren’t supposed to.”

I shrunk down in my chair as he towered over me, shadows cast on his face making it hard to gauge his mood or what he could possibly want with me.

“Your meeting. It went well I hope?” No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t shove the slight quiver in my voice down and I hated myself for it. Hated that his presence alone struck such a level of fear in me even without him having done anything.

“Hmm…” His noncommittal hum echoed through the room and some part of me screamed in disgust at the way my body sagged with relief when he turned away from me and moved back to the bedroom door.

“I met with a few social acquaintances of mine.” Ever so slowly he closed the door, as if shutting the world out of our conversation. It wasn’t really necessary, no one here would ever dare walk in on him without announcing themselves first.

“Oh?” My tongue darted out to wet my lips and his eyes followed the motion almost hungrily. I couldn’t help but suppress the shudder of fear that raced through my bloodstream.

“You’re...acquaintances with that popular boy band...yes?” I couldn’t quite tell what he was after. His tone of voice was flat, almost as if he was already bored with the conversation even though he’d been the one to initiate it.

I turned in my computer chair to face him fully, watching as he leaned heavily on the closed door and folded his arms over his chest.

“I’m friends with them, yeah. Is...there…”

The sly grin that flashed across his face set every alarm bell ringing in my head. He was planning something, and the implications could honestly mean anything but none of it was anything good.

“I want you to invite them to the party tomorrow night. Make sure they come, no exceptions.”

I blinked, head tilting to the side as I followed his every move. He pushed away from the wall, stalking over to me slowly. It took everything in me to sit still instead of retreating back into myself as the predatory threat loomed over me in the form of Hongjoong’s imposing figure.

I stared at his chest for a moment as he pressed his hands on either side of me on the desk, effectively caging me in. When I’d finally found the nerve to look him in the eyes the fire there had me instantly shrinking in on myself.

“I want them there, no exceptions. No excuses.”

“Y...yes, okay Hongjoong…”

He continued staring at me for a long moment, face morphing into various emotions from distaste to mistrust and finally settling on neutral disgust. Grabbing my chin he pulled me close, sealing his lips against mine in some form of possessive dominance that had me melting in to him despite every cell of my being wanting to pull away and protect myself from him.

“That’s my good girl.” Patting my cheek he turned and marched off, leaving me confused and irritated with myself for the display of weakness.

***

“Hyung, remind me why we agreed to this again?” Jungkook coughed, slim fingers curled into the collar of his tie as he struggled to breathe around it.

“Because y/n asked us to, that’s why.” Seokjin growled, grabbing the young boy by the arm and twirling him just enough to reposition the tie accordingly and allow Jungkook to breathe.

“Well, I mean besides that…'' Jungkook blushed, eyes darting through the entryway and into the rest of the massive mansion. It’d taken everything Yoongi had to convince them to take their one day off to support their best friend. They’d been all for it up until he mentioned it’d been to support Kim Hongjoong’s ‘important announcement’. At that point they’d just about all gotten up and walked away until he mentioned she’d begged him specifically.

“Well here’s to hoping the food is at least good…” Taehyung muttered as he shoved his way into the entry hall and tossed his overly long coat at the poor overloaded coat rack in the corner.

“I swear if that fucker tries to make trouble for her tonight I’m going to tear his throat out.” Hoseok growled, eyes narrowed to slits as he’d just spotted the man in question.

Hongjoong strutted across the hall, disappearing through the large glass doors that led out to the lanai and the massive back yard where the main portion of the party was held.

“We’ll do no such thing.” Namjoon said. He placed a calming hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, giving the younger men each a piercing look that set them back to their relaxed state of alert once more.

“At least not until she’s ready to let him go and come home with us.” Yoongi huffed. He nodded for the lanai. “Let’s get out there, our girl needs us.”

The group complied, putting on their idol faces and smiling and waving to the small crowd that gathered as soon as they stepped out into the fairy light lit backyard. Finding her wasn’t hard. She flitted to and fro, handling one disaster or another while keeping a small smile plastered on her face as she played hostess to the hundreds of guests that’d been invited to witness whatever it was Hongjoong had planned to announce.

There even appeared to be several high ranking members of the press hanging around. Most hovering over the buffet style food tables while others interviewed various members of the staff along with guests in the hopes of getting an exclusive on what this party could be about.

“Vultures…” Yoongi muttered as he nursed the cup of punch he’d been handed by some faceless waiter.

“Aye, but they have their use. Keeps the eye on Hongjoong and off of me.” The soft voice that whispered beside him had him instantly grinning.

“Well hi there gorgeous.” He turned to her, eyes darting over her form to take in the sultry green dress she’d donned. The silken material hugged her in places that had him salivating, luckily though he was able to school his features quickly before she or anyone else could notice the hungry look he’d barely been able to control.

“Oh hush Yoongs. You know this is my least favorite dress.” She blushed, turning away from him to subtly fan the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Yeah, that may be. But anyone would be a fool not to appreciate what you’re flaunting.” He snickered half heartedly, hoping she’d take it as a joke and not as the truth he so desperately wanted to scream at her no matter who happened to be watching.

“Thank you for coming, Yoongi…” She whispered, eyes darting over to the grand stage Hongjoong had insisted be set up in the center of the garden.

“Anything for you little moon.” His words went unheard though as Hongjoong chose that moment to clear his throat into the microphone and interrupt any conversation that may have been taking place.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! I’d like to have your attention for a moment if you don’t mind!”

“As you are all aware, my family has been a leading edge to our beautiful city for many a generation. My father swore to uphold the law to the best of his ability, and when he passed several years ago it left a void in so many people’s hearts. His father before him served as well, standing with his fellow citizens to fight against oppression and the government corruption that’d been keeping us all down up until his final breath.” Hongjoong bowed his head as the crowd applauded, cheering his forefathers and shouting various praises as to Hongjoong’s own accomplishments.

He held up a hand, shooting them all a winning smile as they quieted down to allow him to continue.

“Pompous prick…” Yoongi muttered, taking a sip of his punch to hide the movement of his lips.

“Tonight we are gathered here, not only in celebration, but in unity. To come together not as reporters and millionaires and chefs and idols. But as fellow citizens brought together by a single cause, to make this city great again! To make our neighborhoods safer and our children safer. To bring us all together under one unified cause so that we can make Seoul great again!”

The crowd roared to life, cheering Hongjoong’s name and surging forward to crowd the stage as he smiled upon them on like so many obedient children.

“And so!” He spoke over the cheers, somehow making himself heard despite the noise. “I’m officially announcing myself as being in the running for mayor. Rejoice! For change is here!”

The woman beside Yoongi squeaked, her face deathly pale as she seemed to be on the verge of either throwing up or passing out. Yoongi knew that look, knew the impending panic attack that came along with it and began ushering her towards the relative safety of the house.

“Yoongi I…”

“Hush little moon, let’s get you inside and away from this crowd.” His fingers curled around her arm and she seemed to want to lean into the touch, but just before they could reach the door she stopped and turned to him with a wide eyed stare.

“I...I was supposed to make sure we had more sauce for the shrimp cocktail… I...I can’t go in just yet…”

A throat cleared behind them and Yoongi instantly dropped his hand, turning to address the newly announced politician.

“Hongjoong..” Yoongi nodded, barely a jerk of his head in confirmation of the man’s presence really but it was just visible enough as to not seem disrespectful of the man’s status.

“Ah! The famous Min Yoongi!” The politician grinned, pulling his woman close and gripping her hip tightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard many good things about you from my precious fiancé.”

Yoongi grunted in response. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, claws growing and sharpening in response to his growing rage. At the first pinch of pain as they broke the skin he released his fists, forcing his fingers to hang limply at his side.

“Y/n, have you dealt with the catering issues my dear?”Hongjoong turned to her, eyes piercing into her own. It was him dismissing her from the conversation.

She glanced over to Yoongi, eyes filled with apology as she bowed low to the both of them, nearly bent in half as she excused herself from the conversation.

Hongjoong watched her leave, his stare predatory in nature as he watched her disappear into the crowd.

“I heard you’re running for mayor.” Yoongi spoke quietly, knowing the puffed up man would be able to hear him over the noise of the crowd of partygoers.

“Ah, you have?” Hongjoong turned back to Yoongi, that predatory glare still filling his eyes with an insanity that only those born to create chaos and destroy others could possess. “It’s a lofty goal I know. But I feel the need to change things comes with power. And this world could really use a little bit of change don’t you think?”

Yoongi knew he didn’t mean positive change of any kind. This man was far too prone to violence to mean anything more than chaos and destruction.

“How does y/n feel about all this?” Yoongi casually took a sip of his drink. He angled his body away from Hongjoong slightly, eyes darting around the garden. He spotted Jimin and Namjoon heading towards y/n and a small part of him relaxed greatly.

“Y/n? Now why would her opinion matter in the slightest?”

At that Yoongi returned the entirety of his attention to the mad man. “Why...she’s going to be your wife soon. Doesn’t the idea that she’s being thrust into the limelight bother her?”

Hongjoong shrugged, lifting his glass to take a sip of champagne. “Honestly no. She knew my goals before she said yes. If she has anything negative to say about it she’ll tell me and we can address it accordingly.”

The pure menace in his tone let Yoongi know the discussion wouldn’t be very long and would almost surely end up with her gaining a new bruise or two, if not a trip to the hospital.

“For her sake Hongjoong...I really do hope you have her best interests at heart…” Yoongi turned to the man, his drink long forgotten as he fixed the man with a fierce glare.

“Because if anything else happens to her and I find you...you’ll wish you’d stayed in whatever gutter hole you crawled out of to get here.”

#bts x reader #bts soulmate au #bts werewolf au #bts greek god au #bts mythology au #bts angst #ateez angst #ateez greek god au #bts min yoongi x reader

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sirenprincess15 · 3 years

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Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 13

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

In this chapter: Angsty Aleksander considers possibilities for handling Alina now that she knows the truth. Fedyor discusses his relationship with Ivan. This chapter is a deep dive into Aleksander's thoughts and emotions as he fears Alina will choose to be with Mal.

Chapter 13

Aleksander stared at his favorite painting in the war room. It was a vivid picture of the sky with a vibrant sun; the rays flooded down into the dark sea. He gently reached his hand up to touch one of the rays, but it was just paint on canvas. It couldn’t actually warm. He wondered if this was as close to sunlight as his war room would ever see again. Alina was with the tracker, and surely she was never coming back.

Oh he was trying to convince himself that she would realize the tracker was no match for her, perhaps if he just let them meet and talk it through she’d figure it out on her own, but he knew he was fooling himself. Without any real hope, he’d gone through the motions--summoned the tracker for her, given him accommodations in a suite even, allowed them to meet alone. Now it was late in the night and Ivan was guarding outside the suite. He’d promised to send word to Aleksander if their heartbeats changed, for any reason. Aleksander tried not to think about that even as the image of the tracker putting his hands all over her body refused to leave his mind. Perhaps she would remember he’d been kind in 50 years when she realized the mortality of the tracker. Maybe it would only be 30. The tracker certainly couldn’t hold her attraction for long.

But if she chose the tracker, there was the dilemma of what to do about her power, and that was why he was already on his second bottle of kvas. He knew what needed to be done, but he wasn’t sure that his heart could do it. He would have to force her to use her power the way they needed. There really was no choice. The lives and safety of all Grisha depended on their powers. It wasn’t something he could just give up because she had a crush on her little mortal friend. The tracker would never agree to any of his plans, and Alina would listen to him. Aleksander was very much regretting not choosing that army accident for the tracker, but then there was the matter of possibly needing him for the Stag, which Alina had to have for anything to go right. Aleksander sighed and refilled his glass. Truly, the choices were going to end up being manipulating her into using her power as he saw fit or trusting David’s idea of how to get control of it. To manipulate her, he would have to use the tracker, which meant letting her be with him now. And, of course, there was still that unlikely possibility she might actually pick him. It was a laughably remote possibility, but his heart wouldn’t let him make choices that closed that option off.

He had been playing this game of long chess for centuries. He was well accustomed to making the difficult choices, to realizing you had to sacrifice something that meant a great deal to you to make it to the end game. This game was different, though. Everything changed when you truly loved one of the pawns and wanted to make her your queen.

He tried to focus his attention back on the painting, but all Aleksander could see was the look of hatred in Alina’s eyes when she called him the Black Heretic. All he could hear was her screaming about all he had done wrong. How would she look at him if he collared her and took control of her with David’s idea? How much worse might it be if he threatened to kill the oh-so-precious Mal to get her to do what he wanted? But he didn’t want any of those things. He wanted her to choose him, to help him defend all Grisha, together. The possibilities of how things might go if she didn’t wouldn’t leave his mind. He had seen now how she stared at him when she was filled with hate. Could he bear her looking at him like that to protect Grisha? Could he bear failing all Grisha just to get her to smile at him again? It was enough to fill his eyes with tears and make his jaw tremble, but even here, alone, protected in his office, he could not let himself let those walls down and feel. He was too dangerous when he let himself become overtaken with emotions.

A knock at the door startled him. It was well into the night. No one would come to disturb him … unless Ivan had sent them with news of Alina’s heartbeat. Was she having sex with the tracker right now? Surely the tracker hadn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t dare in his palace. Aleksander strode across the room to answer the door.

“Fedyor?” Aleksander’s voice rose with surprise. He paused a moment for the heartrender to explain his presence, but the man seemed quite flustered that he’d actually answered the door. “I do recall giving you specific instructions to get some rest because I might need you to guard Alina in the morning.”

“Um, yes, about that …”

Aleksander waited. Fedyor opened his mouth to speak several times, grimaced apparently at the words he was about to form, and then closed his mouth again. Aleksander raised an eyebrow in question but then tried to clear his head enough to analyze the behavior. The blush to Fedyor’s cheeks said he was embarrassed and it was clearly about something he didn’t want to admit. “You can’t sleep without Ivan,” he guessed.

Fedyor scrunched his face and shrugged his shoulders with unease. “I can’t sleep without Ivan,” he confirmed. “And if you’re truly going to need me in the morning, then you should know. But then I thought that if I am having trouble sleeping without Ivan, you might be missing Alina too. And maybe you might like some company? Ivan was worried about you.” He paused and shook his head. “Yeah, I hear myself now. I’ll show myself out.”

“You’re drunk!” Aleksander laughed. “You missed Ivan so much that you got yourself drunk.” And, yet, he was doing the exact same thing.

“A wee bit,” Fedyor said, holding up his fingers a small distance apart. “Am I going to be in trouble for not sleeping? I am in for it with Ivan if I upset you.”

Aleksander grabbed Fedyor by the arm and guided him in. “I should definitely reprimand you for disobeying orders,” Aleksander agreed. “Keep drinking with me and I will forget to do it.” He pulled a second glass from his desk drawer. It would have been Alina’s glass. Screw it all. He could work on having a well-oiled Grisha military machine that instantly obeyed any order tomorrow. Tonight, he actually could use the company.

“Drone on and on for me about the virtues of Ivan? Perhaps you will keep me distracted.” Aleksander tossed back his drink and then filled two glasses.

“You really love her that much, huh, sir?”

“We aren’t talking about me. We are talking about you and Ivan.” Aleksander tried to redirect, but his own thoughts were all over the place. “Did Ivan actually say he was worried about me?”

“He cares about you a great deal, sir. He’d prefer you to think he’s just a good soldier that has perfected anticipating your orders, but he considers you a friend. And, yes, he’s quite worried Alina will break your heart.”

His heart had been broken a long time ago, from betrayal after betrayal, from losing Luda, from seeing friend after friend die, from seeing his people suffer so severely for so long. Alina had just been the only one who could reach inside and hold together the pieces. Rather than cry about it, he had another drink. “You are not keeping up.”

Fedyor’s smile said he was more than happy to meet that challenge.

“Who else knows?”

“About …?”

“Miss Starkov not being in here. Have people started noticing?” It was silly to worry about bearing that humiliation. He was ancient. He could endure a few mortals noticing his girlfriend had left him. A few growls, maybe a few shadows at dinner time, and they would all snap into line and stop gossiping. Really, he had much bigger concerns to be worrying about, but perhaps because he did not want to think through those concerns any longer, he found it easier to focus on this problem that could potentially be solved.

Fedyor shook his head. “I have not heard gossip, sir, and believe me, when the Little Palace starts gossiping, I know. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to keep to your chambers and avoid meals. Only Ivan, Innessa, and I have been guarding her to know where she’s going. I think it will be a while before anyone notices anything amiss. Nadia would probably be the first because of her closeness with Alina. I could have her stationed at …”

“No,” Aleksander interrupted with a raised hand. “No, she is a good friend to Alina. In fact, I should encourage them to spend more time together. Give Alina a friend that is her future and not her past. Someone who lifts her up. Could you arrange for Nadia to invite Alina for some girl time or something tomorrow?” Perhaps that would get her away from the tracker. “Maybe Genya too.” He sighed heavily. “Unless Alina has realized Genya spies for me. I forgot to disclose that to her. I am going to be realizing things I hid and half truths I told her for some time. She thinks we should be 100% open and honest with each other on absolutely everything. Can you imagine?”

Fedyor nodded. “She does have a point. That is the best way for a relationship. It sounds hard, but there is something to be said for someone knowing you through and through to your core and still loving all of you the same.”

The words wounded as deep as the Cut could. Aleksander narrowed his eyes and stared at Fedyor with such anger, it was almost as if his gaze could cut back. Fedyor squirmed in his seat until he finally added, “Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine,” Aleksander said. The pain was real, but it wasn’t Fedyor’s fault. Aleksander had thought Alina loved him. It was in her kisses, in her smile when he told a joke, in the way they made love. He had been so stupid to think that might mean that he could have what others had--true love, acceptance. He had thought that the problem with finding a true partner was his immortality. Alina had the potential to solve that issue, and it could have been amazing. He had almost forgotten he had centuries of shame that no one could ever possibly accept. It had never gone well when he had tried to confide in a friend along the years. The Black Heretic could never be forgiven. Ivan knew, but he was the exception, and Ivan accepted it only because he had seen so much horror in his own life. Aleksander was so dumb to think that Alina might possibly be able to accept him to his core, as Fedyor had said. Her rejection of his true self cut deep inside. It was a wound that would bleed and ache for centuries as he tried to learn how to function with her without her love. He could not blame her. His core was so dark, his mistakes so heinous, how could she possibly accept any of that? She had seen through to his core and hated what she saw there. Who could blame her?

“We are not drinking enough for this conversation,” he said while refilling their glasses and trying to shake off his dark thoughts.

“For what it’s worth, Ivan thinks you should just hold Alina down, force the Stag on her, and use David’s trick to gain her power. Then you don’t have to worry about her heart. I don’t know how he can say that. He would never do that to me. I don’t know why he expects you to be able to do it to her.”

“Ivan knows that the lives of all Grisha are dependent upon our using her power. We are trapped by the Fold, and our enemies are coming for us. Even our own people are turning on us. We need her to be able to protect all Grisha from persecution, death. He has seen … what happens when we don’t have that. And he knows that if we were to somehow lose control of her, her power, then they would come for us. He thinks we shouldn’t let the slaughter of all Grisha depend on a young woman’s whims, and he’s not wrong.”

“But you refuse because you love her?” Fedyor’s love for a good romance showed in his voice, even in his eyes.

“I love her,” Aleksander said without hesitation. “But even I would struggle to justify refusing for that reason alone. Using an amplifier to transfer power is a theory. Untested. We don’t actually know what that would do. What if it hurts her? What if it hurts her power, diminishes it? We cannot risk losing Alina’s power or the Stag. That amplifier is too rare to take chances with. Until David’s technique is proven, we cannot take the chance. I’ve authorized him to begin developing it. I will let him test it on a willing subject, but not Alina. I have a guard whose Grisha power never developed. He is a good man, and he is willing to sacrifice for our cause. His partner is Grisha. David will see if he can get it to work with a minor amplifier with them. Then, we shall see.”

“That is well thought out, sir.”

Aleksander shrugged. Thinking, strategizing, planning, those were his strengths. Love? This was all foreign to him, but not to Fedyor. Aleksander had an expert in a solid relationship right in front of him. “So tell me, Fedyor, if you needed to use Ivan’s power to save all Grisha, what would you do?”

“Then I would talk to him about it, sir.”

“And if that didn’t persuade him?”

“Then I guess I would talk some more. I cannot imagine … forcing, that would never work.”

Aleksander sighed. Fedyor was right, of course. Alina would never forgive him for forcing her if it came to that. It was just that it was the fate of all Grisha on their shoulders. “And if he preferred to just sleep with another man instead?” That stupid tracker would be the ruin of everything.

“Then I think I’d probably kill him.” Fedyor laughed. “The other man, that is. Heart attack seems perfectly appropriate in those circumstances.”

“That, I’m sure, could be arranged.” They both laughed. Better to fantasize about the tracker’s death than let his pain, loss, stress, and worry consume him.

The creak of someone in the hall pulled Aleksander’s attention. Ivan was guarding Alina and the tracker. With Fedyor with him, he wasn't sure who else might come to his chambers so late in the night. Just as he was signaling the danger to Fedyor, she appeared in the doorway and instantly took his breath away.

“Alina …” He hadn't expected to see her this evening, certainly not so late. What could it mean? Was she there to tell him off some more? To announce her plans with the tracker? The thought made him feel ill.

Her eyes took in the state of the office--empty bottles of kvas everywhere, a very drunk Fedyor jumping to greet her then stumbling back. “Okay, what is this?” She laughed as she tried to help Fedyor back to his chair. “I have to know what is happening here.”

Ivan appeared right behind her shoulder, only steps behind. “It appears General Kirigan is trying to get my husband drunk.”

“Or am I trying to get General Kirigan drunk so he stops stressing about what Alina is doing?” Fedyor slurred a few of the words. He flashed a big smile as he tapped his head as if he had this brilliant idea no one else had thought of.

“Sir, do you want me to stay with her or return to the tracker?” Ivan checked.

“Oh this is ridiculous!” Alina interrupted before he could even think it through. “Mal has been asleep for hours, he's not hurting anyone, and we don't need a babysitter. Let Ivan get Fedyor to bed to sleep this off. He is going to need it.”

She knew he never allowed her without a guard. Did that mean she was staying? He couldn't let his heart hope. He tried to read her intent before he finally turned to Ivan and nodded his approval. Ivan had to half carry Fedyor out the door.

“I didn't expect to see you tonight,” he whispered once they were alone.

“It's your turn to sleep,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You would still …?”

“Were the nightmares fake?”

He shook his head slightly to say no even as the shame of his weakness flooded over him. He wasn't sure how he could even fake something like that. “You know now what drives them.”

“And I really make them better?”

He gave a sharp nod. Her warmth was the only thing that kept them at bay.

“Then I'm here.”

“What does the tracker think of that?” He should hold his tongue, accept what she was offering, but he couldn't help wondering if she had been with him. Surely Ivan would have mentioned it if the tracker got her heart racing. Had his lips been on her? She was Aleksander’s soulmate, and she had spent the start of the night with another man.

“Mostly he thinks I should cut your head off in your sleep. I'm working on discouraging that.”

She wouldn’t. He knew that. She clearly meant it as a joke. “Do you love him?” The words were out before he could stop himself. The kvas was loosening his tongue, he realized. He knew better than to ask questions he didn’t want to hear the answer to.

She was taken aback. “He is my … home, family, support … comfort.” She was struggling to describe it.

There were a lot of words missing there, important words--passion, happiness, love, partner. Didn’t she notice that? “He makes you think that you are not enough, but you are. He holds you back, and you let him.”

She sighed. “I didn’t come here to fight about Mal. Maybe you need to sleep this off too.”

He wanted to push, to make her realize how wrong the boy had always been for her, how he had hurt her, held her back, likely without ever even intending to. But he also didn’t want to irritate her and didn’t want her to leave. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “Come on, let’s get you to sleep. A few hours at least, and then you can fetch Ivan to guard me again.”

It felt awkward somehow undressing in front of her now, but he certainly wasn’t sleeping in his kefta and leather. He turned his back as he removed them, but secretly, he hoped she was looking, remembering what they had, longing for it. He didn’t dare turn to glance behind his back to know, though. He feared if she was turned away, if she was repulsed by him now that she knew who he was, it would crush him. With his black sleeping robes on, he gave her warning before looking up. “Okay, I’m ready.”

She climbed into bed and motioned for him to join. It was almost as it had been before, except that everything important wasn’t. She didn’t trust him. He wasn’t sure if she even still loved him. Their bodies were the same, but he did not feel the same comfort in her as he pulled her to his chest. They were going through some of the motions to get him to sleep, but nothing was the same. There would be no sex. Tears filled his eyes as he truly realized all he had lost the moment she found out his true identity, not just the orgasm he would not have, but the intimacy with her, the connection with someone who could be a true partner, even the comfort of acceptance. She could turn on her warmth, but would it do the same thing if she was full of hostility towards him?

“Alina? I am sorry. And I love you.” Maybe it didn’t matter. It didn’t change anything at all, but he wanted her to know.

“I know,” she said and then softly leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I can feel that. I’m trying to figure out with you how to tell when something is real. Baghra made me doubt … everything. Your isolating me from Mal made me question all of your motives. But if I pay attention to our bond, I’m starting to be able to tell if you’re being genuine. So, we start over here, with my getting to know the real you and deciding what I think of the actual Aleksander. I’m working on forgiving you.”

He closed his eyes and thought through all of that. She hadn’t mentioned the Fold or being the Black Heretic again. Maybe she could, if not forgive, at least understand how that happened now. Perhaps she could accept who he was. Was that even possible? She was angry he had lied. She felt he had tried to isolate her. He supposed he had, but not truly isolated; he had encouraged the friendships with Nadia and poor Marie and Genya. He had tried to isolate her from her past so she could move on to her future, to shed the things that held her back. If the letters to Mal hadn’t been so self-depreciating, apologetic for being Grisha, perhaps he might have permitted a visit earlier. She felt betrayed because he had lied, kept things from her, and manipulated her. He couldn’t exactly deny that, but he had tried to manipulate her to accept herself, to be happy. It was clear, though, she did not appreciate being treated that way.

“I’m trying to be better for you,” he whispered. He knew he could never deserve her. He had made too many mistakes, done too many dark things, and was truly filled with darkness himself. And she was light. The tears that had been filling his eyes finally slipped out as the guilt of all of his mistakes weighed heavily on his heart. “You make me want to be better.”

“Aleksander …” she whispered, her voice full of worry. Because of their bond, she could likely feel the pain in him, all the regret. She looked up at him and reached to brush the tears away. “I know you are. I can feel it. I appreciate it.”

She pressed her forehead to his and just sat there, breathing with him, letting the power flow and call between them, bringing all the emotions back and forth for a while. She was confused, but she cared. Deep in there was this tiny thread of hope.

He wanted to make her happy again. He had made her happy once, hadn’t he? All those smiles and laughs. He could do it again if she was willing to give him a chance. He would try his best to be what she needed. Full honesty and openness were not things he was good at. His entire life he had been forced to lie to everyone out of necessity, for survival. But he would try for her. He would do anything to bring that lightness back to her heart. “I’ll be better. I’ll make you smile again.”

She shifted their bodies and pulled him to her chest for a change. The slow beating of her heart calmed him as she ran her fingers steadily through his hair. “Shh, shh, shh. No more worries tonight. Go to sleep. Just go to sleep. I’m here. Just rest.”

She’d chosen to be with him and not the tracker. She was here. It was all that mattered. Together, they could do anything.

#aleksander x alina #kirigan x alina #alina x aleksander #alina x kirigan #aleksander morovoza #alina x darkling #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #the darkling #darklina

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

the end of being alone (2)

donation drive commission for @bumblebeekitten for the next chapter of TEOBA, with the prompt: patton & virgil fluff! hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

chapter 1

warnings: miscommunication, false impression of a very bad situation for like .5 seconds, recklessness, sometimes you just gotta have a good cry

The next sunrise, they set out again, this time with considerably less weaponry and considerably more snacks. Roman held point again, since he was the one with the most practical experience in tracking.

There had been a somewhat tedious argument on whether or not Patton should come, one that Roman had thoroughly lost, since it was Patton’s quick thinking and emotional attunement that kept the previous cycle’s encounter from descending into disaster.

He had acquiesced in the end under the combined force of Logan’s reasoning and Patton’s disappointed look, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. After catching barely a wink of sleep between restless nightmares, he was feeling more grumpy than generous.

Still, his own irritation faded as they grew closer to the rocky cliffs where he suspected the Human was, shifting into an intense concentration on the task ahead. It was a miracle that their initial encounter hadn’t gone sour, a miracle that this Human seemed young enough to be somewhat nonaggressive, and while he hoped that whatever they had said to scare the young kit off hadn’t irreparably damaged their budding acquaintanceship, he wasn’t counting on it.

He had his underarmor on for a reason.

The other two didn’t quite share his concerns. Logan’s arms had been in an excited, information-gathering flurry practically non-stop since they set out, and he and Patton had been discussing the plants and insects in the nearby forest that were relatively non toxic to them (and so would probably be no issue for a Human), and how many nutrients they would provide. None of them knew how much or what a Human needed to eat, but Patton seemed firmly of the opinion that whatever the kid was eating, it wasn’t enough.

“Fledgelings need plenty of food and the proper nutrients to grow up healthy! A lone child in the middle of one forest can’t possibly have all the variety they need in their diet,” the Ampen insisted, feathers fluffing up at the mere idea of a kid going hungry.

“Another important factor to note is the planet itself is not the child’s home, and so may not have the necessary nutrients available at all, let alone in one localized area,” Logan added.

“You two have enough variety in those packs to weigh down a mountain,” Roman interjected, “so how about we focus on not scaring the kid off before we even reach them. Human senses are ludicrously strong, enough so that they’ll hear you two yakking a parsec away.”

They agreed to be stealthier, and just in time, because Roman was pretty sure he’d found a more solid trail than the ghost-like faded prints that seemed all to trek over the place. He gestured in Crav’n sign for the two of them to stay put and stay quiet, and then followed the fresh tracks until they came to the mouth of a small cave amongst the crevices and steep drops of the pale cliffs.

He slowly stalked into the cave, keeping his movements light and quiet even as the light grew dimmer and his vision more restricted. Before it could grow too dim, however, his gaze caught on round, un-rock-like silhouettes.

It took a moment to identify the shapes as small, limp Humlilts, all piled up around the larger Human. He nearly physically recoiled at the sight. So, this was why the small creatures had gone missing: slaughtered en masse at the hand of a Deathworlder. Not for food nor shelter, not in defense of itself or others, just for the sake of the callous cruelty and disregard for life that Humans were apparently born with.

Humlilts were small, but Patton was scarcely bigger. Once the Human got tired of playing at mimicry, would it try to add the Ampen to the hoard of bodies?

He wasn’t going to lose another family.

Almost against his will, a low, near-subsonic growl rumbled out of his throat. He took one advancing step forward, and then…

And then, a tiny head poked up from the pile, small dark eyes staring at him over a long snout.

Roman nearly tripped over his own feet, astonished. There was still a living Humlilt in there?

Before he could even finish his thought, another head appeared, and then another, until there was a sea of fluffy faces and huge ears all pointed in his direction. The undersized ungulates were fine, each and every one of them. They had simply been sleeping, all cozied up with one of the most dangerous species in the universe.

Roman felt a strange and overwhelming mixture of relief and shame, his scales flattening down guiltily. It was too late, though, the movement had already rippled through the group until it reached the Human. Their creepy mask was absent in rest, and they pawed at their eyes sleepily as they sat up to see what all the commotion was about. There was a red mark on one of their cheeks from where it had pressed against the cave floor.

The moment they saw who stood at the entrance of their little nook, all the color drained from their face. The Humlilts shifted uneasily, and Roman found himself bracing to have thirty miniscule sets of horns charging at him. They couldn’t really hurt him, but they were persistent little things, and Patton and Logan would not be happy if a bunch of Humlillts tried to drive them away from the Human before they’d even properly spoken.

Instead of siccing the plethora of tiny mammals on him, though, the kid whistled a few notes in a perfect echo of the Humlilts all-clear call, settling them down. They carefully detangled themself from the pile, trailing a few stray twigs and leaves behind them in the process. Roman wondered absently how long they’d been building the collection of plant matter that covered them.

A few parting trills later, the kid was in front of him, holding their bony shoulders firm but unable to conceal the tremor in their legs. They raised their chin up in what looked like a friendly Crav’n greeting, but attitude-wise seemed more along the lines of a challenging stance.

“No hurt,” they said firmly before Roman could say a word. “No hurt small--,” a few words in their own language here, “--small good. No hurt. No hurt. Yes?”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Roman tried to reassure them, “I swore, remember?”

The kid stomped their foot once in… some kind of emphasis. “No hurt,” they started again with deliberate slowness, and then ended with the Humlilt whistle-greeting. Many of the Humlilts whistled back from where they were still observing the two of them. The small cavern echoed with the sound eerily.

“You don’t want me to hurt the Humlilts? The small creatures?” Roman asked, gesturing to the pile of fluff and hooves, and was rewarded with the kid seeming satisfied.

“Yes. Small good. Good good small. No hurt.”

Roman extended his hand palm up for another oath. “I vow not to harm your small good friends,” he intoned solemnly. The kid patted his hand twice, bobbing their own head in a curious motion. Roman could only imagine the sort of notes Logan would be taking.

Oh, right. He’d left the others in the bushes.

“I brought my friends, too,” he informed the kid, who blinked up at him. “Logan and Patton, remember them? Little critter?”

He said the last words in the chirps of the Ampen language, only a little strained by his accent, and the kid visibly brightened. “Little critter!”

“Wait right here, and I’ll get them,” Roman instructed, lowering a flat hand to convey wait. The kid probably didn’t really grasp it, but seemed content enough to stay put, shifting from one foot to the other.

It took no time at all to find Patton and Logan, who had progressively edged closer to the cliff face as he’d taken his sweet time in there.

“Okay, so,” he started, “I know where all the missing Humlilts went.”

---

Virgil shuffled his feet slightly, feeling the cool stone under his toes.

He should probably leave now, because even if the fluffy chirp alien really was there, they knew or at least suspected he was a human, and aliens hated humans. All of them, even the ones that looked soft like birds or cool like dinosaurs.

A soft, velvety nose poked up against his hand, and he squatted to gently pat the strange little singing puppy-antelope that had parted from the group to check on him. He couldn’t help but smile a little bit as it bumped its snout against his knee, sounding like a windchime.

Okay. Maybe not all aliens.

He looked up at the clitter-clatter of talons on rock, and then the fluffy chirping alien really did careen into view, feathers all puffed up like that very angry owl that had roosted outside his window for three whole hours one time. The other two bigger aliens came in only moments later.

Virgil couldn’t help but shrink back slightly from where he was still crouched, because aliens were weird and sometimes they did weird things that he didn’t really… get. Typically, this would be right before they started getting really mad or shaky, and screaming at him.

Before Fluff-Chirp could get any closer, though, the puppy-antelope had charged between them, planting its little legs and lowering its head so that the little horns were pointed out in warning. Virgil went still, eyes darting between Fluff-Chirp and the little creature, who he was pretty sure was the one with the white spot on its forehead, the one he’d named Susan after his nice neighbor.

The cool dinosaur alien had promised not to hurt them (he was pretty sure), but would it count if the puppy-antelopes attacked them first?

Fluff-Chirp stepped forward a little bit, and Susan let out a shrill cry like someone blowing really hard on a flute. Virgil clapped his hands over his ears as he attempted to whistle the calm-down sound, but Susan would not be budged, even as the other two aliens got all tense and twitchy.

In front of it, Fluff-Chirp stopped advancing, and instead plopped down on the ground with a soft thump. They ruffled in their bag, and Virgil was struck with the fear that they would pull out a space blaster gun to shoot Susan for trying to protect him. Hurriedly, he crawled forwards and threw his arms around the puppy-antelope (puppylope?) and hugged it close to shield it from any laser gun beams, his eyes squeezing shut.

There was a grunt-grumble from the cool dinosaur, and the click-click-click of the bunches of arms of the blue one moving around, but all he heard from Fluff-Chirp was shuffling, and then—

“Hello good morning,” the fluffy alien said. Or at least, that was what Virgil thought the birdsong-like words meant.

Fluff-Chirp always said it when waking up in their little camp, and Virgil had said it back, because that was just basic manners, especially when someone gives you stuff. Fluff-Chirp had given him a bunch of sweet sliced up fruit, kind of with the feeling of mangoes and the taste of strawberries. It had reminded him of home.

It… kind of smelled like Fluff-Chirp’s fruit now, actually.

—

Patton watched hopefully as the kid slowly opened one eye to peek over at them.

He hadn’t meant to scare the poor little guy by rushing in, he’d just been absolutely delighted to hear that not only would he get to see some Humlilts after all, but also that the kid seemed to have some company after all.

Some very loyal company, if the one threat-displaying at him was any indication. Patton was careful not to engage, particularly since further back in the cave, he could see a whole assembly of tiny, reflective eyes. Roman would probably just hold him up in the air if there was any real danger, but it was the principle of the matter. He didn’t want to upset the little guys!

Or the kid, who had finally spotted the dishes of fruit Patton had set out.

“You wanna come eat with me, little critter?” Patton offered, patting the ground near him.

“Little critter…,” the Human murmured. Their face was much more expressive now that it wasn’t mostly concealed by wood, and the kid looked painfully young. Probably no more than seven or eight sun cycles. Patton’s hearts twanged in sympathy.

Slowly, like they were waiting for the rug to be yanked out from under their feet, the kid scooted forward enough that they could grab a few pieces of the dana fruit, setting one down in front of the Humlilt to distract it. Patton eye-crinkled encouragingly, and took a piece of his own to nibble on.

“Do you remember me? I’m Patton. Patton,” he emphasized, ‘pat’-ing his own chest in example.

The kid paused mid-bite, and then swiped their wrist over their mouth before mumbling, “Patton,” back. Patton glowed with happiness.

“And that’s Logan,” he said, bolstered by one apparent success. Logan obligingly stepped forwards and gestured to himself.

“I am Logan,” he enunciated clearly.

The kid, who had stopped eating to focus wholeheartedly on this new task, scrunched his brow up. “I am Logan?”

“No, not quite,” Logan corrected gently. “Logan. I am Logan.” He cast a meaningful look to Patton.

“And I am Patton!” he added cheerfully, gesturing between the two of them. “Logan! Patton!”

“Logan,” the kid mimicked, looking at the Ulgorii and then the Ampen, “Patton.”

“You got it! Good job!” Patton noticed that the kid was very careful to keep their hands in their lap, and wondered if Humans were normally this withdrawn, or if exposure to other aliens had caused this reticence.

“Good job?” the kid echoed, wide eyed. They looked to Roman curiously, though only for a moment before dropping their gaze.

“I am Roman,” Roman surprised them both by beating them to the introductory punch.

“... Roman?” the kid offered, and got a chorus of nonsense praise for their effort. They bared their little teeth and clapped their hands together, and it took the three of them an alarmed pause and exchange of glances to realize that they weren’t, in fact, being threatened by a youngling.

“Joy? Or perhaps, contentment?” Logan was mumbling to himself. “The skin around the child’s eyes folds much like an Ampen expression of happiness, so…”

“It would make more sense to be happy after receiving praise, right?” replied Roman, who had gotten a bit bristly from nerves for a moment. Patton resisted the urge to elbow the both of them into not saying long, confusing sentences. Luckily, the kid seemed too occupied with their own thoughts to notice.

“Patton, Logan, Roman,” they recited, looking at each of them in turn. Then, very carefully, they reached up and patted their own chest. “Virgil. I am Virgil?”

There was a brief moment of stunned silence, and then Patton trilled in delight, clapping his hands in an echo of the Human’s gesture, in hopes that it would convey his own happiness and pride in the kid’s quick learning. The kid jumped, but then did that teeth-bearing smile again.

“Virgil!” he tested out, not quite getting the Human tones right, but that was okay because he could practice! “Virgil Virgil Virgil! Yes! That’s you!”

“I am Virgil!” the Human was practically bouncing in place as they matched Patton’s energy, and Patton couldn’t help but dart forward and try to bump his head to the Human’s affectionately.

Roman hissed something exceedingly panicked, but Patton was already using one of the Human’s bent legs to reach, and then he was brushing his antenna to the kid-- to Virgil’s forehead, and then the Human was lifting their arms slowly and curling them around him, and okay now Patton was a little bit concerned, but.

But, all Virgil did was lean into him slightly, arms bracing but not suffocating, and sniffle once, like they were holding back tears. Any resolve Patton had to not give his teammates stress ulcers faded away like dust in the wind, and he leaned in carefully and wrapped his arms around as much as he could reach of the kid’s shoulders and neck, which Roman would tell him was stupid dangerous because necks were weak points on Humans and they would absolutely react defensively--

Virgil promptly burst into tears, their chin coming to hook over Patton’s shoulder as a stuttering little wail worked its way out of their system. Patton made soothing nonsense croons and sung Ampen lullabies as the kid shuddered their way through a good cry, and tried not to feel too alarmed that unlike Ampens, Humans apparently leaked emotions while they cried.

Once Virgil had more or less settled down, they seemed completely wiped from the outpour of emotion, eyes drooping, body tilting to one side. For the first time since they’d arrived, the kid looked too wiped out to be nervous. Sure enough, only a few moments later, they shifted to curl up on their side, falling asleep on the cold stone easily.

Patton looked up at his teammates from where he was sitting in the center of the curled c-shape of the kid’s body, and offered them a sheepish shrug. “Well. Now we know that Humans can experience touch hunger?”

#sanders sides #ts patton #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #the end of being alone #teoba #donation drive #commissioned works #wibar #wibar au kid virgil #bumblebeekitten #space au #writing #my writing #i genuinely feel so soft writing this au #let virgil have hugs 2020

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ourneverendingpossibilities · 4 years

Text

Amnesia (2/2)

Anime: Bleach Pairing: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques x reader Rating: M (For language and implied themes) A/N: So here’s the second part!! If I had the patience, it would’ve been one long fic like I had intended.. But my brain was not working and I wanted to post the first half.. I love when my brain does these things... Anyway, I hope you all like! Can also be found on my AO3! Merry Christmas @oi-taigaaaaa ! __________________

The desert sands brush against her bare skin.. Her clothing was tattered around her, and she clung to herself as if she could shield some of the pain. The mask on her face was broken in places it shouldn't have been, but she didn't have the energy to heal herself... Better yet, she couldn't, because she was currently under attack. Why couldn't she defend herself better? What kind of life did she live before becoming this...??

_____ was at a loss for words..

It wasn't until she felt another presence, one that was strong, but warm, did she even attempt to lift her head. But her eyes remained closed, scared to open in fear of what she would see... Why was she here?? Stuck in purgatory without a companion...?

"Oi.... You're not dead, are you?"

The voice, distorted but warm, oh so very warm, made ____ open her eyes.. She was greeted by another arrancar... But he was the shape of a panther... A gorgeous, beautiful panther... His muzzle was covered in blood, and she turns to look at the other creature, dead and lifeless.. Her eyes immediately return to the being in front of her, and she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out....

"Do you have a name, or am I just going to abandon you here?"

She doesn't understand why this being is interested in her, or why he feels so familiar... But she swallows the lump in her throat, letting her arm fall beside her. She feels she can let her guard down a little; he hasn't finished her off yet.

"_-____." she murmurs, meeting those fierce blue hues head on. He moves closer to her, and takes a sniff, causing ____ to flush a little.. Well, stiffen is the accurate description. "W....What are you-?"

"Good... You're not weak." he states, nudging her arm before turning around. He sits in front of her, tail swishing in the sand as he keeps an eye out for any hollows who dare attack. "Heal yourself, girl... Then eat the rest of the hollow and prove your worth to me... Otherwise, I'll kill you and devour you myself."

____ didn't understand why this... Panther hollow would want her to stay with him... But she can only nod her head, realizing he can't see and begins to heal herself. She moves to the dead hollow, about to take a bite when she looks at his face, a curious expression hidden behind her ox mask.

"What's your name... Arrancar? If I'm to pledge my alliance to you, I need to know what to call you."

He lets out a snort of sorts, casting her one last glance, before staring straight ahead.

"Grimmjow... Grimmjow Jaegerjaques."

She swallows the lump in her throat, ignoring the longing emotion clinging to her... She thinks she may know this arrancar in another life... But her memories are hazy, and trying to think about it only causes her pain... She finishes off the hollow, cleaning her face of the blood as she bows beside him, resting a hand on her chest.

"I look forward to serving you... Grimmjow-sama."

___________________

She feels herself roll out of bed, rubbing the back of her head as it hits the ground... What the hell?? Is she a child waking up from a bad nightmare?? She finds herself leaning against the mattress, resting her head against the edge as she lets out a sigh... Grimmjow.... The dream, she had called a panther like hollow, "Grimmjow"... That can't be the same Grimmjow that manhandled her the other day...

Could it?

She rubs her face, trying to understand why he was so angry.... Why he would blame Ichigo for her not knowing who he was?? She never saw that man in her life!! Even if she has met him before, and knew him...

Someone as handsome as him could NEVER be forgotten...

Her cheeks flare up, and she lets out an irritated groan... Right... Ever since she has been in Urahara's care, her hollow emotions have started to take shape in the form of human emotions... Things she shouldn't feel when she was an Arrancar, like sadness, and guilt, are now things she's experiencing... She hates it... Just wants to return to her arrancar ways of feeling nothing.

But she's always felt something.

Otherwise, she couldn't heal... And not many arrancars of Aizen's army had that power. But she did... And yet, he never used her powers.. Because he didn't know she had them. He never got the chance to find out. She just can't remember why; and it continues to haunt her. Her time in Hueco Mundo was long, but she finds that there are memories she doesn't remember, things she should know, but doesn't. She's asked Urahara what Grimmjow was talking about after he left. But she wasn't given an answer, and he'd sent her on an errand with Orihime, leaving her confused and empty.

Grimmjow....

Why does that name continue to haunt her, and why does she feel he was the piece she was missing?

__________________________

"Grimmjow-sama?"

He lets out a grunt; as if telling her he was listening. His head is resting in her lap, and they're laying together curled around a fire she made during these chilly nights.

"Why did you let me live ? You could've killed me and continued on your path to becoming a Vasto Lorde."

His ears flicker, and his eyes open slightly, staring down at the white sand. His paw shifts, and his attention remains on the fire, but he knows she's waiting for an answer. Why did he leave her alive?? It would've been simple to just finish her off and continue on without a companion... and yet; she's here with him, keeping him company during these dreary and barren times...

"The path to being a Vasto Lorde is a long one, and I decided you were worth keeping alive..." he states lazily, closing his eyes once more. "Besides, you didn't want to die. And I'm not one for killing those who have fight left in them, but aren't at full strength."

He hears the hitch in her breath, before a light rumble vibrates under his chin. He opens an eye, and looks up to see her stifling a laugh... How dare she laugh?

"What's so funny?!"

She shakes her head, turning her eyes to look at him, gently stroking his cheek, "I didn't think you were a beast who understood what it means to fight on equal grounds.."

He startles her by knocking her on her back, blue hues glinting in the fire as he sneers at her. His paws pin her down, and his tail swishes, licking his lips at their position. He's the one in control.

"You dare to challenge me, princess??" he grumbles, pressing his weight on her. He hears the gasp, but focuses on her face, watching the way her cheeks change colour under that mask.. Tch... "You owe your life to me... And one day, I'll make sure you remember that..."

He blinks when she smiles at him, using what strength she has to wrap her arms around him. "It doesn't matter what you do to me, Grimmjow-sama... I'll always pledge my life to you... I'd even die for you."

His reiatsu grows darker, and he growls in his chest, moving to bite her neck. He hears the gasp, her body clinging to him as he delves his teeth into her skin. His face goes to her ear, and he growls;

"You're mine _____... and I won't let you die for me."

He looks at her face, seeing her eyes widen in understanding. He watches her neck move as she swallows, before she buries her face in his cheek, holding him close.

"I belong to Grimmjow-sama... And I won't leave you behind."

He lets out a snort, as if agreeing, before picking her up by the scruff of her cloak with his teeth, carrying her to the small cave they call "home".

_____________________

He's waiting for that shithead shinigami to return home. In the back of his mind, Grimmjow could've just met him at his school, caused a scene there... But he didn't want to risk bringing _____ into it. And he knows, she'd step in if only to protect that bastard. It still makes his blood boil.

How dare he steal ____ from him? Kurosaki isn't good enough... He's a fucking weak human! He couldn't give ____ what she needs.. What she desires.. He's always filled that role, and he'll refuse to have her be stolen from him. Especially from a piece of shit like him.

"What do you want Grimmjow? I'm not in the mood."

He rolls his eyes, "Tch. I don't give a shit if you're in the mood or not... You're going to fight me." he starts, pulling Pantera from its sheath. "Or I'll go after that Orihime chick, and make you attack me."

The smirk grows when Ichigo presses the crest against his chest. He's now in his Shinigami form, and jumps at him... What an idiot, an open book. And Grimmjow is happy to tear pages from it, one by one.

Let the fun and blood begin.

______________________

_____ feels the fight before Orihime pauses their training. Both their faces express the same concern, and although the words are stuck in her throat, _____ is thankful for Orihime understanding the look in her eyes. She doesn't return to her gigai, opting to stay in her Arrancar form. Her powers have stablized now, and she's able to control them better without needing it, and it would be too much of a hassle to get back in. Instead of waiting for Orihime to get ready, ____ finds her legs running up the ladder of her own accord, and her body runs to where the reiatsus are clashing, sending shivers down her spine.

Why does the second one feel as if it's calling out for her?

Her eyes narrow as the worry creases on her face.

'Grimmjow'.

______________________

"_____-chan, I hope you're adjusting to being Grimmjow's fraccion."

Aizen's voice was smooth, silky and firm. She tries to hide the tremble of his reiatsu, eyes on his as she nods her head in slight unease.

"Y....Yes..." she stutters, bowing her head, "He's been treating me well.."

Silence lingers, before he nods his head, a smile on his face. "That's good... Let me know if he ever tries to hurt you.. I'll deal with him myself."

A shudder runs down her spine, and she bites her lip, before swallowing the lump in her throat. "....Y...Yes, Aizen-sama..."

She then leaves the room, finding herself able to breathe easier once she was away from him. She feels his reiatsu spike, and immediately her feet take off towards him. She never likes making him wait, because since their transformation, Grimmjow has become more... brash, and destructive... A part of her died when she realized he wasn't entirely the same person... But then again, perhaps he's always been thirsty for blood and mayhem... She just never noticed until now.

She's jarred from her thoughts when she runs right into his chest, almost falling on her butt in surprise. His hand rests on her back, holding her up as he swiftly gathers her in his arms, using sonido to carry her back to his quarters. She feels dizzy at the movement, but before she can process anything, or her surroundings, his mouth is on hers, rough and dominating. He pins her arms to the wall, using items she didn't know he acquired, but her mind was too focused on his taste, his scent.. Wanting to just feel his warmth around her..

Oh how she wishes she can touch him.

"Did he touch you?"

The words are dark, rough, and brings ____ from her thoughts, opening her eyes to meet his. Blue hues dark, full of passion, anger and something else she can't place... And she starts to sweat... His reiatsu is starting to suffocate her, and although she wants to reply to him, she's out of breath, and her mind is racing from the struggle of trying to breathe..

"Answer me, Princess..." he growls, moving to bite her neck, "Did. He. Touch. You?"

"N....No!" She whimpers, trying to wriggle out of her restraints. He put pressure on her body, and he makes her look at him, a gasp leaving her lips.

"G...Grimmjow.... I... I belong to you... and you alone... I wouldn't let anyone else touch me."

'Not the way you do.'

She hopes her eyes communicate her thoughts, and he seems to be silent, assessing her current state. His eyes are hiding something, but it's gone the moment she blinks, and she whimpers when he moves to nip at her cheek, a hand rubbing her sides.

"Good. You're such a good girl, ______." he murmurs, eyes narrowing as he smirks against her skin. "Now... Let me reward you... My Princess..."

________________________

_____ reaches the fight, gasping when she sees the sight before her. Ichigo has donned his hollow mask, and Grimmjow is in his released form... The white and blue flash in front of her, and she feels her body shudder, nearly collapsing at the overwhelming energy... She doesn't know what's going on, or why her body is reacting this way. But she feels sick, dizzy from the flashes in her mind.

The rare smiles. The frown when he's concentrating. The snarls when he's angry. The look of pleasure when they both reach their peaks.

Her hand clutches her chest, and she's kneeling on the ground, whimpers escaping her lips. She can't breathe... She's sinking fast, and she can't find the strength to climb back out of the water. The sound of a crash echoes in her brain, and her head snaps up, searching for the explosion. When she spots it, she sees a bloodied Grimmjow laying in the crater. On instinct, her body begins to run, and her eyes are only on him..

Her master... Her lover... Her companion...

"Grimmjow-sama!!"

__________________________

Fuck his life. How the hell did that bastard get so much stronger in the time they last fought? It's not like Orihime is around to cry for him to stop... He hasn't even threatened her in front of him... Well... He did use it as bait to lure him into a fight...

But he understands why when he feels her reiatsu heading right for them.

Shit... _____ figured out he was here... She knew he was fighting with Kurosaki... She was going to come and defend that bastard... AGAIN. The feeling of betrayal began to claw at his gut, and he growled, doing everything in his power to overtake the bastard. But it seems he saw every move coming... It was as if he became predictable in his attacks, and he was left fending off attacks rather than being the attacker.

He coughed, letting out a grunt as he watched the bastard charge up one last Getsuga Tenshou... Heh... So he was that angry he wanted him dead? Well now... He deserves it... After all, he was the one who forced him into a fight... Must have caught him in a bad mood... Grimmjow couldn't find the energy to sit up, but he managed anyway, feeling his body revert back to normal. He was leaning on Pantera, panting and wincing at the pain...

But his body shook the moment he heard her voice....

"Grimmjow-sama!!!"

With wide eyes, he turns his head to see her running at him. Tch. Her face was ugly with those tears and worry. But it was all directed at him. FOR him. And he feels his body shake... What a time for her to remember who he was, right as he was about to be defeated... But he heard Pantera roar, and he felt Kurosaki release the attack before he realized his mistake...

____ jumped at him, knocking him on his back as she tried to shield the blast for him...

She was going to DIE for him... And he couldn't find the strength to move Pantera...

He finds the strength to crush her to his chest, flipping her under his body so he'd be shielding her from it. The heat was starting to close in on them, and if anyone was going to die, it would be HIM for HER.

Suddenly, there's a glow engulfing them, and his eyes widen, watching as Orihime runs at them, protecting them from the attack... He doesn't understand why she did it... But he sees the determination in her eyes, and feels the concern and unease rolling from Kurosaki as he lands on the ground and runs to them.

"I...Inoue!! W... Why did you do that? You could've been killed!"

Her attention remains on the Espada and Arrancar beneath him, her eyes filled with worry for her friend. She brings down the shield and starts to heal Grimmjow's injuries without his consent, attention on the girl in his arms, clinging to him.

"You weren't going to kill me, Kurosaki-kun... Because I could sense that your attack was weaker when you saw ____-chan try to shield Grimmjow." she explains, directing her attention to him, "You weren't going to kill him from the start... You just wanted him to know you were stronger..."

"It was STILL reckless, Inoue!!!" He scolds, moving to rest his hands on her arms, brown hues filled with worry. "Don't you ever try to shield one of my attacks again!! I... I couldn't forgive myself if I hurt you...."

If Grimmjow was in his normal state of mind, he would've thrown up at the grossness in front of him. But his attention was on the Arrancar in his arms, clinging to him as if she was scared to let go. It seems the two humans are busy with each other to notice them, and he feels a drop in his stomach when ____ pulls away briefly to stare into his eyes... He cups her cheek in the palm of his hand, clicking his tongue softly.

"Stop crying, Princess... It makes you look weak."

He watches the way her cheeks puff up, anger swelling in her eyes before she punches his chest. "Y....You're the one to talk!!" She starts, grabbing his cheek in the same manner as him, "Y...You're the one who was broken at me forgetting who you were!"

He growls, eyes narrowing, "Watch how you talk to me, _____... I won't go easy on you... I told you... I'd make you remember that you owe your life to me..." he smirks, dragging his hand down her sides, sneaking it under her uniform. "Don't think I've forgotten that."

She shudders, and his eyes darken at her actions, watching her beneath blue hair. "M...Maybe I should've let Ichigo kill you.." She mumbles, feeling his reiatsu spike at her words.

"Oh... You're going to pay for that _____-chan...." he whispers, biting her neck. She has to stifle the mewl, a hand reaching up to grab his ear, "I'll make sure by the end of it, you remember just WHO you belong to... And who you're loyal to."

She feels her eyes soften, and _____ moves to kiss his cheek, ignoring the looks from the two humans... "Not if I can embarrass you in front of them first." She winks, before jumping out of his arms and takes off with Sonido...

His eyes widen at her words, but a smirk curls on his lips, clicking his tongue... Well... She has some nerve... But the chase is what makes it fun, and ____ has always made things fun and entertaining... He looks at the two humans, stretching his arms.

"Thanks for healing me, woman.." he mumbles, "And for looking after _____ during her stay." He ignores the gasp from her, before glaring at the orangette, "I'll be back for my rematch... And this time, I'll make sure you don't hurt _____... Otherwise I'll hack you to pieces."

He doesn't wait around any longer, vanishing before their eyes, chasing after the one person who's always stayed with him.

His lover, his companion, his mate.

#bleach imagines #bleach scenarios #Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez #grimmjow x reader #for senpai!#honestly I hope I kept Grimmjow in character LOL #That was my biggest concern #But I think this is how he'd react

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thefallenbibliophilequote · 4 years

Text

The Last Word- part 3

Bucky x Reader

Summary: you and Bucky never get along, it’s not that you hate him- it’s just that he always finds ways to get on your nerves. You’ve had enough of it. But, funny thing about feelings, they often tend to intertwine with others in ways that you can’t really expect.

Word count: 3,956

Warnings: language, probably bad writing too, implied sex- one line tho.

A/N: I refuse to apologize for the amount of avatar and Taylor references. This is the last chapter, the end of the first series I’ve written. I’m excited both in the good way and in the nervous way because I don’t know if this is any good, I had no beta for this one.

A/N 2: Thank you all for reading this series! I really hope you liked it, let me know what you think! I hope I did this series justice because I really enjoyed writing this storyline. Next up is a WoC and Time Travel challenges. I am actually happy with the foreshadowing I managed to do in this series.

Preview part 1 part 2

Part 3- The End

Bucky is a supersoldier, an assassin. He was trained to notice everything. The shift was sharp, he couldn’t really pinpoint it, but he couldn’t miss it. He noticed the change.

It was in your attitude, in your movements. It was in the way you entered the room, in the way you retorted to his remarks. It was in your response in the comms, it was in the tea you made. It was in the way you dressed and in the place you sat during lunch or movie nights. He just didn’t know what it was.

Him mind wandered to the last mission. There was no way that you knew, he was careful.

You lay on your bed, arms crossed over your stomach as you pondered over the events of the day.

Tony approached you with his tablet alongside with Wanda.

“So, where did you go this time, sunshine?” Tony asked. You almost choked on the question, your mind still a bit fuzzy.

“I- I went to my room; it’s safe.” You reasoned. Not sure with who. You looked at Wanda as you replied, and slightly shook your head at her confused eyes.

They let you go after that, and you teleported to your room.

You haven’t left it since.

Did your own mind betray you? You were smart enough than to deny the clear implication of the recent event. Were they all right? Did you just decide to ignore these secret feelings that you apparently had? Another possibility crossed your mind as you recalled your last mission. Merely two days ago.

“How did we miss the hostages?” you whispered into your comm as you took in the new information Natasha gave you and Bucky.

“There is no time to call for backup,” Natasha replied to you and Bucky.“Y/N, teleport yourself and Bucky into the building and neutralize the hydra agents, give me as much time to take out the hostages safely as you can.”

“Copy that,” Bucky answered and you held onto his arm and teleported yourself inside the building; Taking in the tables with the lab equipment, and the agents with the loaded weapons.

It was the silent communication between you that made you act so well on the field. You teleported onto the other side of the room- capturing the attention of the agents- giving Bucky the advantage over them. He took out agent after agent, dodging bullets and throwing knives.

You teleported behind the agent to your side, leaving the other agent vulnerable as they took out each other while you smiled wickedly. Another agent came to attack you; you were close enough to take out the magazine out of the firearm. He in turn knocked the end of the barrel to your head and you stumbled backwards onto a table. You hissed as you touched the blood. Looking at the chemicals, you prayed to the Norse gods that this will work. Two chemicals soon collided on the face of your attacker and you saw the bubbles of the acidic reaction.

Yay.

Wrapped up in your little victory, you failed to notice the agent behind you raising his gun, Bucky came to your side, his right arm securing you as he spun you around and hid you away from danger with his own body. His metal arm raised and you heard two gunshots, followed by silence.

Bucky turned to look at you then, noticing the blood on your forehead.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just a little blood.” Your breath was heavy when Bucky took a step backwards from you, taking the heat from his chest and arm with him. It was then you saw the agent on the floor. One bullet went straight through his heart.

“I’m sending the hostages your way, is everything clear?” Natasha’s voice sliced through the silence.

“Clear.” Bucky sighed.

That must be it. Is it not? He saved you, so you felt safe. That must be the reason. It was hard to convince yourself, that was a convenient excuse of a lie and you knew it. You curled up under the blanket and fell to a light nap.

It was only a week since your discovery, but it felt like an eternity. From time to time you felt Bucky’s gaze on you. You knew you were acting different, but what else were you supposed to do?

The teasing hurt more now, so you settled. You sat on the very end of the table, making sure to be as out of sight as possible on movie nights. You used other mugs when yours was too high to reach and he was around, when he wasn’t you just grunted and asked another person to help you get it. He was making it difficult. He was making you so damn frustrated but doing what you used to do will only make you feel worse. Because, it was not just a game of hate to you anymore. It wasn’t just insults you can throw around and shrug off. Because now that the bubble burst, you began noticing all the other signs- the way you’d never take the last slice of pizza when you know he is just coming back from a mission. The way your eyes would linger on his body a little more than they should when you were at the gym. The way you smirked and hid a smile whenever you saw a frustrated Sam walking by, and heard Bucky laughing from the next room. The way those blue eyes made you angry but, in reality it’s not real anger. The way your smiles of victory were always genuine and wide. It was all right there in front of you, the guy with the exact same smirk and mischievous eyes you noticed ever since the very first day you met him.

Now you still returned his remarks though, it felt good for a bit, then it would hit you when he smirked at you. So you did it less often now.

One day a solution crossed your mind, find a way to move on.

With every day Bucky started to notice more changes. You no longer wore shorts, or dresses. The purple dress was never seen as well, even when you went out with Natasha to a club. You used to stay behind from things like that, but now he saw you going out more and more. He heard you fighting in the gym late at night, rather in the day like the rest of them, when he was walking the tower after a nightmare.

“Well what do we have here?” he decided to approach you one night after a particularly bad nightmare, smiling as he discovered you in the gym again. You seemed to ignore him completely.

You kept throwing the different knives at the target, getting more aggressive as it moved backwards.

“You know,” he smirked as you hit another target, right in the heart. You turned to choose a different dagger. “I can provide a different way to release that anger.”

You knew the heat in your cheeks was from the workout. It didn’t provide any comfort with the words he was saying. You knew it was just him being a cocky bastard. You threw the dagger, hitting the target straight through the heart. Oh the cruel irony.

“Fuck off, Barnes.”

“Oh come on, you’re clearly off your game. What happened? Did you finally realize you are no match for me?” his arms folding.

“I just realized that you are not worth my time, it’s quite simple really.” You turned to him with his stupid blue eyes. “Now if you can please leave me to train alone, that would be grand.”

“Suit yourself sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re missing out on.” With that Bucky walked away, you sighed. His smirked fell a bit, he shrugged it off.

“So, you see, I was just a class below Mr. Stark at MIT.” The blonde held a smug look as he told you how he got his job.

“Oh so you know Tony?” you asked him, leaning on the high receptionist desk at the ground floor of the tower.

“Yeah, of course, he remembered me from back when we were in college! Of course I know him personally!”

Lie. You let it pass. He was good enough looking, and he is smart if he managed to work in Stark Industries, so you decided settling a bit wouldn’t be that bad.

“Wow, that’s so great!” you smiled a bit. The guy was genuinely cute so hopefully this could lead somewhere. “I heard your division managed to sell the latest product to that one company- Beifong?”

“Yes! It was a huge deal in the office, we brought cake and everything!” he smiled excitedly about it. “It was actually from this Argos Bakery, they have the best pies there!”

“I heard about it! I always wanted to go there actually.”

“Well-” the blond got cut off.

“Hey, Y/N!” you mentally cursed as you heard the approaching voice. “Well what are you doing here?”

Bucky gave you a side hug and you groaned lowly. You could already see the guy in front of you stand up straighter now.

“I’m here talking to Brian.” You replied sending a tight lipped smile towards the soldier, hoping the guy wouldn’t get scared off. You were so close.

“Brian, huh?” you could see the dangerous flicker in Bucky’s eyes when he gave you a look before catching Brian as his victim. He took his left arm off of you before extending it towards the poor guy. “It is very nice to meet you!”

“It is nice to meet you too Sir-” he gulped nervously as he took the Winter Soldier’s arm, you could see it tightening by the second. “I mean- I mean Sergeant, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky let his hand go, an amused smile covering his face, and you saw Brian’s hand was much redder than before.

“I see you’re an engineer?” Bucky’s arm found your shoulder again. That motherfucker.

“Yes Sir- Sergeant.”

“My friend here is more into chemistry, isn’t that right doll?”

“I like all sorts of subjects actually, Bucky.” You shot him a glare before smiling towards Brian. Your smile fell when the blue eyed devil next to you asked the next question though.

“So, where did you go to school?” Bucky mused, icy eyes glaring at the guy.

“MIT, I got a Masters in engineering.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Is that so?” you saw the mischief in his eyes. He was too smart for your liking, you concluded to yourself. “Do you know Tony then, I assume?”

A hunter put his pray in a corner.

“Yes, of course I do.” He smiled at you, probably trying to keep his act up. He thinks he can impress the soldier.

You were going to kill Bucky, you decided. Preferably with a dagger, but you weren’t picky.

“Well that is so great! We work with him, wait-” the asshole smiled at you, oh and what a dangerous smile he had, his tongue sticking out for a second to lick his bottom lips. “Why won’t you come with us, we can all seat and talk with him, I’m sure he will be happy to talk to you.”

Abort mission. Abort mission.

“Umm-” you both saw as Brian tensed up and swallowed, gulping as he adjusted the collar of his shirt. “I should probably get back to work, I really need to finish some work. Right now.”

And the prey is gone as the hunter went for the kill. He quickly turned around from you and Bucky who was waving at him. He all but ran towards the other side of the floor, and entered the first elevator that got there.

“Bye, Brian!” next to you Bucky was chuckling.

You took a step forward as he went ahead, but it was a rather fruitless attempt. You heard Bucky laugh behind you as he put his left hand yet again on your shoulder.

“If you won’t take your hand off of me, I will make it so Shuri will have to make you a whole new arm. You turned your head slightly to glare at him from behind your shoulder.

"Ooo feisty!” Bucky commented and he took his hand back as you turned to him.

“Now why would you go and do that?” you were fuming. Well, there goes your chance, and there he is smiling at you his eyes wrinkled at that.

“You-” he let out another chuckle, followed by a more serious smirk. “You didn’t actually think I would forget the promise I made you, now did you? I am a gentleman after all, a true man of my word.”

“And what promise is that?” you crossed your arms defensively.

“That I will always get the last word of course,” he stepped forward a bit. “That guy seemed great, oh what a shame you won’t get any from him.” He shrugged.

A groan, wait or was it a growl? Whatever came out of your mouth was somewhere in between, fuelled by frustration.

“Fuck you, Barnes.” You went around him towards the elevators to get to your floor.

Wanda spotted you, and held open the doors. When they closed behind the two of you, she spoke up.

“It’s been a little over a week darling, do you want to talk about that?” She was always so gentle.

“No.”

The Beifong Company was a family business, extremely rich. Tony decided to throw a little event for the family. To his dismay, Pepper told him it should be classy, charming rather than gauche. So of course, she took over the planning, dress code, and invites. To his delight though, the Beifong’s 16 year old blind girl- Toph, was much more to his liking. Tony and her got along very well once he realized how different the young girl acted when her parents were out of earshot, with the sarcasm and her snarky remarks matching Tony’s perfectly.

You never thought you’d see the day, an elegant party at the Stark Tower. Everyone was dressed to the nines, some were dancing along to the classy band Pepper hired, while others were eating and talking.

It looked surreal, like it was made from starlight. You found yourself drifting from the conversation. Your mind going to places, to people, you tried to run away from.

“Y/N? Are you with me?”

“Oh, yeah sorry Sam” you smiled at him.

“So as I was saying, how is your training going?” he picked up his glass of champagne, well it was filled with beer, but it was a glass you drink champagne in. He wanted to look classy, or so he said.

“Oh, it’s going better; I am figuring it out more. I guess you’d understand it but I am just working on controlling my emotions and figuring them out so I can control this power.” You explained, with his former job it was easier for him to understand how you figured out how your powers work.

“That’s great to hear! I’m proud of you, but I have to ask, is there something else going on with you?” the concern in his voice caught you off guard. You thought maybe everyone would just accept it. It has been two weeks since your little discovery, you focused on your own work and when you didn’t you focused on anything but Bucky- which isn’t how your mind decided to work. The more you tried to get to know other guys, going to clubs, you never got it. The more you ran away from him in your head, you just crushed into him, it’s a cruel circle.

Luckily you have some progress tonight. Yesterday a cute guy named Sokka came to the tower to talk about security detail for the Beifong family. He was really cute, funny, and really observant to the point that it impressed you a lot. So you talked to him and you two ended up planning on meeting here. You haven’t seen him yet though, maybe he went to make sure the family was safe, you couldn’t see the Mr. and Mrs. Beifong here either.

“No, I am completely fine,” a light bulb lit up. “I learned about myself so much these past couple of weeks, I am bound to change a bit. It’s a good change that happens after a self discovery.” You assured Sam.

It wasn’t a lie, and you patted your shoulder for the good excuse. There certainly was a discovery but it wasn’t directly related to your powers…

“If you say so, I am happy as long as you are.” He nodded to you, you smiled weakly in return. “it looks like someone is coming for you though, so I’ll get out of your hair.”

He winked at you and got out of the stool.

“May I sit with you?” you turned to look at him.

“Sokka, yes of course” you smiled at him, your cheeks reddened as you blushed a bit.

Bucky was on the other end of the room, leaning on the wall, drinking useless alcohol as he looked at you at the bar. Natasha walked and stood next to him. A few moments passed before she spoke up.

“So, how’s the wound?” Bucky’s jaw clenched a bit before he sighed.

“You know I heal fast. Why am I not surprised that you noticed though?” another gulp of the drink.

“Even a supersoldier can’t hide a bullet wound from me,” she huffed. “Why hide it?”

“She didn’t need to know.”

“I noticed it though, as I was with the two of you on that mission when it happened two weeks ago.”

“She didn’t.”

“Yeah well, she is blind to it…” Natasha now looked at him. “Are you?”

The soldier looked at Natasha for a moment, before returning to gaze at you.

“I wish I was.”

Bucky left shortly after that.

“Wait so you saved that judge? I saw her on TV the other day. How did you even notice the shooter from that far away?” you looked at him in awe, ignoring intruding thoughts.

“I spotted him when we drove her there, he was entering that building, I assumed he was going to the roof especially with that rifle case, so I send the car for another spin as I followed him.” He rubbed his neck as he smiled you.

“It’s really impressive you know, not a lot would’ve noticed that.” You looked at your hands, you may not be over him yet, but you had to eventually “Would you maybe like to go out sometime? Maybe we could go somewhere with less superheroes and bosses?”

“That sounds really nice but-” He looked you in the eye, contemplating his words. “I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever it is you have with your boyfriend, his name is James Barnes right? He seems nice, a little scary if I’m being honest. I’d love to get to know you and be your friend, but I’m not going to do what you’re suggesting, you two look like a cute couple though.”

You barely heard that last part from the blood rushing in your ears.

“Did he say something to you? I’m going to kill him!” you rose from the chair, he couldn’t even say a thing before you teleported, the only thing in your mind is Bucky.

You found yourself not in the party, actually you found yourself very far away from the party, in the hall leading to the roof door. You didn’t ponder on that, rather you practically shattered the door as you opened it and closed it behind you.

Bucky stood in front of you, confusion laced with intrigue, the collar of his white shirt slightly open, the tie and jacket tossed on a nearby chair.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he saw your red face.

“You have some nerve to ask me that you fucking asshole, how dare you?” you fumed at his question, playing it innocent ha, as if.

“What the fuck are you talking about doll?” his voice now raised.

“You went ahead and talked to him, didn’t you? Why are you ruining it for me when all I’m trying to do is- that’s not important” you caught yourself in time, you didn’t need to handle that on top of everything, you just wanted to move on and he wouldn’t let you do that.

“Talked to who? Are you blaming me for everything right now?” he moved from his place by the ledge now.

“He said he is scared of you! He said it’s because I’m your gal or some shit! Did you tell him to say that? You’re a fucking jackass James Barnes.” You accused and walked towards him. It’s like he is putting salt in your wound, telling Sokka he was your boyfriend? Out of all the things, he had to say that.

“I didn’t talk to anyone, especially not to that guy you were with!” He yelled back at you, hand flying around with his frustration, god the things you bring out in him.

“You’re one hundred and fucking two, and you are a lying asshole.” You shook your head as he stood in front of you.

“I’m no liar!”

“Are so!”

“Am not!”

“Are so!”

“I am not a bloody liar, plus I’m 103, learn to count.”

“Oh you always have to get the last word right? You’re unbelievable!” you tried pushing his chest back, it didn’t really work and you huffed, crossing your hands.

“Doll, I told you I always win and get the last word, that’s nothing new.” His frustration didn’t fade, and neither did yours even when he cracked a small smirk. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, his blood was boiling. You took another step forward.

“Never,” you shook your head, eyes determined on his. His blue eyes won’t break you. You weren’t going to run this time. “I won’t let you win, I’ll always be here to stop that! You’ll never get rid of me!”

“I’m counting on it.” He growled as he grabbed your face and his lips crushed into yours, he kissed you hard. Shocked, you stood frozen in his embrace, but when his tongue brushed your bottom lip you melted against him, body melding perfectly with his as you put your hands on his chest. His heart racing just as fast as yours.

You were left speechless at his sudden admission.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” He breathed against your lips, before pulling another breathtaking kiss from you, shivering but not from the cold wind. Kissing you for what felt like forever, you could only wish it was.

Your eyes were still closed when he leaned back and said-

“Told you I always get the last word” you opened your eyes to a smug Bucky who had the audacity of walking away towards the door.

“That does not count! You can’t just do that and just walk away like that!” you yelled after him, huffing, you could feel the butterflies in your stomach and his lips on yours.

You teleported right in front of him, stopping him in his place as you smiled, still a bit breathless.

“I told you you’ll never get rid of me” you leaned in, arms wrapping around his neck as he smiled.

“That you did, Doll” his hands finding their place at your waist, he closed the short distance.

He kissed you again, and again, and again. No words were needed as all the pent up emotions were poured into the kiss and made up for all the words you never said.

tags: @callmeluna @sstanbarnes @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @wipplogg @supraveng

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #my writing #fluff #the last word #marvel #bucky fluff #series #enemies to lovers

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words-for-holland · 4 years

Text

Christmas Admirers Teaser |T.H.

Pairing: Fratboy!Tom x Reader

Summary: Tom Holland and Y/N have never crossed each other’s paths in the 3 years of their college career. but can a silly letter change all that?

Loosely Inspired by Dash & Lily and every other cheesy Hallmark Christmas Rom-Com Movie out there.

A/N: This wont be a series but this story is going to be really long when it’s done but tbh not sure if Im really like how its coming...Ha...ha.. But I’ll still do a taglist for this when it’s completed so feel free to add yourself if you’d like.

Taglist

Wanna Play a Game?

All it took was one bright red letter and four words to intrigue the most beloved, foreign exchange student of New York University, Tom Holland. If his name sounds familiar to you, then you already know the answer to the question that just popped in your head. Yes, not only was Tom Holland a well renowned actor, he was also a student exploring the wonders of college along with his best friend Harrison. Some say he was only attending to prepare for a role, others say he did it to have his fun with sorority girls, and a very small percentage believed he was actually trying to get his degree in theater. Whatever the reason, college life suited him well, being the head of the Beta Gamma Sigma Fraternity, living the bachelors life with a new girl around his arm every week, but it was all the same...until he found that red letter sticking out of an abandoned shelf in the Potter’s Library.

He remembered it clearly, the day he found it. Tom had reluctantly arrived at the Library assuming his mates would be there to actually study for an exam they had this upcoming week. Lord knows if they didn’t pass this final with at least a C this semester, they would surely relive the nightmares with Professor Gonpu in the next. Yet to no surprise, none of them came and ditched last minute as the pool of messages started to flood his phone.

“Great.” Tom muttered to himself as he took a seat at the far right corner of the library. The area was empty, and as he slouched on the wooden chair and pushed it back, the boy hadn’t realize how close to the empty shelf he was. With a single thud, came a small red letter floating above and gently making its way down to his lap. The inviting words peaked his interest, and while he checked both front and back for a name, the letter should have been addressed to...there was none. He unfolded it and read it to himself.

Do you want a play a game?

You seem like the type of person that has nothing better to do, so let’s make it a little more interesting. I wont tell you who I am, but if I deem you worthy...I just might.

Still with me?

I’ll give you five clues to figure out this location. Everything you need is here in the Library. And...if you even think about using that phone, you might as well put this letter back where you found it. After all.. you’re in a library and it’s got all the information you need. Ready?

Tom looked at it puzzled by the words. “Do people actually do this shit?”, he thought to himself. He continued to read on, examining each clue and the 5 lines next to them.

1. You’ll find your first clue, deals with a tragic romance. He had all the money in the world but never ends up with the one he loves.

“Too easy.” Tom smiled to himself as he quickly looked for The Great Gatsby. He referenced the red letter seeing only 3 spaces for the first clue. “Jay” he whispered to himself, as he triumphantly wrote out the words.

2. Know what else is more shitty than dying and not having the love your life? Writing a depressing poem about the love your life dying. Or as Poe would imagine, a beautiful maiden by the sea.

He smirked at the line, knowing fully well the poem that the mysterious letter was referencing, and quickly headed to the poetry section. Tom scanned the row of books, until the black book with white lettering caught his eye. Flipping through the broken pages, he found exactly what he was looking for. “In this kingdom by the sea, but we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee.” he muttered the lines, a smile slowly creeping up. Tom writes out the word “Lee” in the 3 lettered blank. “Tragic Romance, how typical.” he says to himself. Though his voice was laced with disinterest, it was Tom’s favorite poem, but he’d never tell anyone that.

It continued on this rhythm of deciphering clues and running around the Library like a chicken without a head to figure out what the letter wanted from Tom. He had been so focused that his plan to study for Gonpu’s final and meeting with the fraternity has completely flown out the window. As of now, Tom’s main priority was to find the answers to the letter’s puzzling challenge. Maybe, if he answered it, he would know who the mysterious writer was.

Then it happened. The last clue was solved, as Tom quickly wrote out the final word, examining his work and trying to make sense of what he found. There were no other instructions left on the letter which only made Tom more puzzled. It wasn’t a name. It wasn’t a thing. It was a place on campus. Jay Lee’s Coffee Lounge, the most serene coffee spot you’ll ever find in NYU. It offered all the essentials needed to focus and complete your work all with a side of great cold brew made in house. People say it’s NYU’s best kept secret, but really it’s because students will rarely go since it’s so out of the way.

He made it to the shop after thirty minutes, and stepped into the calm atmosphere. The smell of gingerbread lattes hit him once he opened the doors, and soft chatter between students filled the air. He looked around the area in hopes to find the person who wrote the letter. Perhaps they were waiting for him, but it was unlikely since Tom wasn’t even sure if the letter was written that same day. For all he knew, he could be wasting his time, and yet....it didnt feel like it. Almost as if he felt he was meant to be here.

“Mate, what are you doing here?!” Tom followed the robust British voice as he whipped his head to the counter. His best friend Harrison, dressed in a Jay Lee’s short sleeved shirt.

“Harrison? You...work here?” He asked voice filled with confusion. Not once did Harrison tell Tom about his side job. In fact it was almost offensive to think the blonde hair bloke would even it hide it from him.

“Yeah...I didn’t really tell anyone because well you know, it’s the last place people would expect a frat to be working in. Reputations and all...What about you? I didn’t think this place was your type of thing.” he asked.

“It’s not...” he paused for a moment, debating on whether to tell Harrison what he found. If it led Tom here, Harrison might know who wrote the letter. He hoped it was girl...God he really hoped it was. “Actually, I was at the library today waiting for you divs --”

“Oh yeah sorry mate.” Harrison looked at Tom apologetically.

“No, its fine really. But I found something interesting, and --”

“Tom, if it’s another blonde wannabe model, I --”

“Bloody hell, Harrison just listen to me. I..” Tom paused for a moment to quickly check his surroundings before pulling up the red paper. “I found this red letter. Made me go on bloody goose chase and led me here. You dont happen to know anything about this do you?”

Harrison took the letter and examined it thoroughly reading the lines word for word and the notes Tom made next to them. He was just as intrigued, but unfortunately shook his head, unsure of the answer to Tom’s question as well. “Sorry, Mate. I have no clue. Never seen anyone here writing out a red letter before.”

Tom held the letter, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Was this it? Did he really just waste a whole 3 hours in the library and 30 minutes worth of gas for nothing? “I just dont understand.” he muttered.

“Look if you really think the person that wrote this letter wanted you to be here, why don’t you just write a message in it and post it on the corkboard? Im working the entire week, so I’ll keep an eye on who grabs it and let you know.“

It didnt seem like a half bad plan, Tom nodded in agreement and grabbed a pen from his bag, writing his reply in the empty space, the mysterious writer was so kind enough to leave. He posted it on the corkboard, and turned back to his friend.

“Dont forget.” Tom pleaded.

“I wont mate.”

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine

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criticofallthings · 3 years

Text

Hi it’s 4:43 AM and I’m back with another t h i ng. AKA apparently I write Destiny 2 fan fics at at the pre ass crack of dawn now.

Presage mission + “another one for the trauma jar D2 meme” + a love for all things Drifter related bc this poor insufferable soft man is a total fucking gem and I will never, NEVER EVER forget about those tapes that he made for our guardian to find = this stuff below

no beta, so don’t come at me for grammar issues unless you’re gonna be nice about it.

WARMTH

Drifter saw the flashing notification before he heard it, the chime muted beneath the Gambit livestream. His ghost had marked it as a priority message, something important to get at. On screen a massive Taken ogre quivers into existence. Nice. Team A was doing great and unless Team B pulled off one Hell of an invade two times over he doubted they’d catch up in time to challenge Team A. His hand hovers over the message, but his eyes flick back up to the stream. Team A’s coordination has been top notch all match and now was no exception. Drifter watched as two of them casted their supers on the Primeval ogre and it’s envoys. Orbs of power litter the field. Moments later Team A’s titan flies from off-screen in one of the most electrifying thundercrashes he’s ever seen. Globs of exploded ogre cover his hidden cams, soon to dissolve into nothingness. Gambit sirens wail and Team B’s Taken are reigned back into their cages. “Alright alright alright, last match of the day and it was a good one for Team A. Team B? Not so much.” Drifter pauses speaking into the mic, a little drama, before continuing in his showman’s tone. “Ay, but that’s what tomorrow’s for! Come on back and queue right in. Drifter’s always hungry.” He ends with a chuckle that doesn’t rise to his eyes and as soon as the guardians transmat to their ships he closes everything down. A message alert pops up on his console again, marked red for priority and sent almost half an hour ago. Damn, he thinks to himself and runs a weary hand over his face. Drifter’s other hand is on the edge of the console, index finger tapping it anxiously. Fuck it, how bad can it be? Drifter opens the message, tension rising to his shoulders, but then he freezes and his shoulders drop. He traces a few words of the message, forlorn sadness easing the laugh lines and crinkles at his eyes away. A few taps and the console goes dark. Drifter turns away and stands for a moment at the door. He lets out a sigh before starting again, yanking off his gloves before trudging towards his cargo container room.

There’s a lantern hung on the hook outside of his cargo container, the interior dark. Across the snow that never seemed to leave the Derelict, he sees whispered hints of someone carefully walking or rather, half-gliding over it. Through the gloom he spies a small pile of stuff he doesn’t remember making and an obvious lump in his bed. As he draws closer Drifter sees that the pile is actually carefully stacked warlock armor and the sleeping lump in his bed, is The Guardian. Yet again. Drifter’s lost count how many times it has been since he first offered the Guardian refuge aboard the Derelict. The first time they took him up on his offer he found them later, sleeping in a corridor standing against a bulkhead. He let them be since it was an out of the way spot. Eventually he showed them his bed, the Derelict’s only functional bed and told them to make use of it. Until now they hadn’t and he would still find them sleeping in various places aboard his ship. Sometimes with or without some pieces of armor, but also never like this. In plain clothes, more or less, sleeping bag haphazardly pulled over them. So vulnerable. And so tortured.

In sleep, Drifter found that the Guardian was an almost entirely open book. Nightmares haunted them more often than not. Sometimes so strongly that the Guardian would thrash about while asleep, murmuring feverdly, occasionally coherently about what they relived in their dreams. Tonight seemed to be one of the Guardian’s more silent nightmares. No thrashing, no murmuring, but the tight grimace of their lips and furrowing of their brow betrayed the Guardian's silence, showed their distress. Drifter steps to the cot, gently pulling the sleeping bag over to cover them better. Task done, he sits at their side and tentatively brushes a few stray strands of hair from their face. As he does so, the Guardian visibly relaxes, some tension dispelled from their face. It pulls at him more than he thought, making his chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Don’t take your armor off around me, kid...I’m not someone you oughta get comfortable around.” Drifter can’t help but let the whispered words fall from his lips at the sight before him. It was all too tragic. Too fucked up. So much pinned upon one guardian. One person. His hand moves before he realizes it and softly he cups their face, thumb tracing their jawline. Beneath his hand he can feel the muscles twitch and then slowly relax from the strained clenching of their jaw. Another measure of stress slips from their sleeping face. Drifter lets out a breath he was unconsciously holding. For a moment he thought the Guardian was going to wake up. Another trace over their jawline and Drifter takes his hand from their face. Quietly he murmurs, “why are you here…” as the tips of his fingertips trail over their cheek. He pauses, feeling impulsive and...something else...when he glances at their lips. Drifter lets his fingers ghost over their skin, tenderly coming to a rest below the Guardian’s cupid’s bow. He lightly traces the shape of their lips, feeling it out. Soft and a bit dry. There’s a thin crease of dried blood where they must’ve split their lip during combat. Or maybe bit it open themself on a previous restless night. He’s seen it happen before. Once even their tongue.

Drifter closes his eyes at that memory, a faint tremble visible only in his hands. He just about had a heart attack when he saw the Guardian slouched over with blood streaming from their mouth, sitting just outside the Gambit transmat room. He had shaken them awake, and his shock only grew when he saw them open bleary eyes and wipe the blood off of their chin as if it was normal and summon Ghost. The usually talkative bot didn’t say anything, but the way it healed them instantly and then bumped their forehead before leaving —he knew. Drifter knew that this must have happened several times before. “Mind if I...sleep s’more...here?” Their sleep-heavy voice caught his attention again and Drifter lifted his hands from their shoulders. “Nah, kid.” Drifter stood up and half turned, waiting for them to do the same. “C’mon, hurry up! I ain’t so mean to not lend you a spot to sleep.” The Guardian rose slowly to their feet, eyes unfocused and mind miles away from here. Something in him stabs at the sight and Drifter can’t face them looking so...worn. He turns away. Shoving hands deep into his pockets he starts walking, pausing only once to confirm the Guardian was shuffling along behind him. He shows them how to get to the sole cot on the Derelict.

A hand on his wrist snaps Drifter out of the memory. He looks down to see the Guardian awake, eyes somewhat clear. There’s confusion in their expression and he feels their lips move beneath his fingertips. Ah. Hastily, he pulls his hand away, clearing his throat. “ ‘m, sorry...about that.” Heat flushes his face as he turns to avoid eye contact. It’s silent for a while. Drifter stares at the rivets holding a seam of the cargo container together when he hears the crinkle of the sleeping bag being moved. He does his best to look discreetly out of the corner of his eye, but is caught. Drifter holds the Guardian’s gaze until they break off to shift towards the wall. Lifting the sleeping bag they look at him directly and motion for him to lie down. “It’s too cold.”

Drifter freezes. His mind hitting a brick wall too thick to just power through. He’s stunned into a very rare silence. Uncertainty and confusion write themselves out upon his face. Seeing him be so still, the Guardian drops the sleeping bag to place a hand on his knee. “You asked...why I come here.” They speak slowly, as if unsure about what they’re saying and are figuring it out as they say it. “You...you don’t use me like everyone else.” They look away from him, cheeks faintly pink. “Zavala, Ikora, the Vanguard...they mean well, but...they don’t get to treat everyone as people. They need a killer? I kill. Answers? I seek. Someone who might survive the impossible? I survive. Unconditionally. Righteous things and unspeakable things... Because I am a guardian. I don’t have a name. Many ghosts just go by Ghost...I’m the only guardian without a name. There was just...never time for one, and…always so much to do. Lives to save. Futures to fight for…” They trail off, eyes slightly unfocused, perhaps lost in nightmares they haven’t escaped yet. “You bring Gambit, but it’s never a real pressure to join.” Their hand slips from his knee, becoming a loose fist on the cot.

The coiling thing in Drifter’s chest squeezes painfully. He shifts, almost stands, but then changes his mind. To Hell with it all. Shucking off his pauldrons, he shrugs out of his duster and kicks off his boots. Awkwardly, Drifter lays down on the cot —it’s made only for one after all— but gives up on trying to leave space between him and the Guardian. Laying on his side, he shoves an arm under the pillow and motions for the Guardian to come closer. They move over slowly, a little unsure now. Drifter grabs the sleeping bag and covers them both with it. He’s left that arm out, unsure on how much contact would be wanted. When he feels the Guardian shivering, Drifter almost stops himself from draping that arm over them. But he doesn’t stop himself. Instead he gently pulls them close to him until their back presses against his chest. They feel oddly cold despite being recently asleep. Drifter summons a measure of solar light over his skin, just enough to let soothing heat roll off. He feels the Guardian relax, shoulders dropping the tension that had remained.

Minutes pass and just as Drifter thinks they’ve fallen asleep, the Guardian quietly speaks. “It was so cold there...and twisted…” His arm around them tightens protectively for a moment. “Where did you go? Recent mission?” The Guardian nods slowly, voice a little louder, but twice as worn out as before. “Presage...the Glykon.” Drifter hums a short acknowledgement, turning over their words in his head. He was aware of the Vanguard operation, already heard snippets of Osiris live on comms reporting tidbits back to the Vanguard. The Cabal ship was a house of horrors. Thinking on what he knew of it, Drifter came to a sudden, sinking thought. “Did you…?” He isn’t able to finish his question, half knowing what the answer would likely be. Again, the Guardian slowly nods. The tightness in his chest returned with a sting before the Guardian spoke their confirmation, a small tremor rolling through them at the memory. “...alone.” Drifter holds them close, knowing no words could ease the turmoil in the Guardian’s mind. He holds them and keeps his Light near and solar-filled to stave off the Derelict’s iciness. Eventually the Guardian’s breathing levels out and Drifter can tell they’re sleeping. Several hours later he drifts off to sleep as well. When he wakes in the early morning, Drifter opens his eyes to see the Guardian’s face next to his, still asleep. It’s the first time he’s seen them look so at peace.

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dreamingofscully · 4 years

Text

no night but shadows

rating: explicit // length: 5366 words // classification: ust to rst, season 2, post-ep (f. emasculata), canon divergent or canon compliant (your choice) // summary: a worried mulder shows up at scully’s apartment late at night

thank you to @suitablyaggrieved @starbuckthirteen @fragilevixenfic @impulsive-astrophile for the amazing reviews and betas. love ya❤️

tagging @today-in-fic

***

SCULLY’S APARTMENT, 1:15AM

Mulder hesitates, the smooth wood under his palm coolly unaware of the turmoil just beneath his skin. Making himself push forward, he knocks, not knowing and yet afraid of certainty.

His heart speeds up when he doesn’t hear someone right away. The turning of the lock abates his fear, but only a little. He’s still not sure if he’ll be faced with her mother, her sister, or her God, ready to cast judgment upon him. He’s relieved when he sees her shining red hair and curious expression.

“Mulder?”

“Can I come in?”

He told himself that he was only here to make sure his life hadn’t ended, that her report belied the fact that she’d soon be carried off in a plastic coffin to die a horrible, disfiguring death. Her unblemished skin and mild concern, only for him, gives him some courage. The rare comforting space between fear and guilt.

Scully pauses a moment, looks him up and down. She’s wearing her warm white robe, hair gently curled, face scrubbed clean, freckles peeking through the shine on her face. By contrast, he looks like he’s been to hell and back, and knows that she’s wondering if he came from a bar or some unsuccessful X-Files hunt, the product of a bad decision either way. He’s an intruder, disrupting the perfect domesticity that she’s created in her home; of course, she lets him in anyway.

Tossing off his leather jacket, he remembers to remove his shoes and slumps into the embrace of her couch; not a place for sleep or work, but conversation. She sits in the chair opposite him and waits, curling her slippered feet underneath her. He’s thankful for her patient mood.

He stares at his hands, ruminating over just what it is he’s doing here. What it is exactly that he came here for, now that he has confirmation that Scully is safe and sound. When he peers up at her, she raises an eyebrow, smiles slightly. That she doesn’t mind his barging into her life, her home, at ungodly hours gives him hope. Maybe she likes him. Just a little. He doesn’t fucking deserve it, but he holds onto that thought like a cliff’s edge, the sharp rock the only thing preventing his fast descent.

He chuckles and stares at the floor, breaking the uneasy silence that settled over them. He’s glad she can’t read his mind, his overdramatic musings at once too much and yet never enough.

“Did you want some tea? Water?”

He sits back and looks at her again. Despite the hour, she’d been awake when he knocked. The television is paused at some gruesome scene -- Rosemary’s Baby he thinks -- and there’s a giant mug of tea on the table along with a small bowl of disgustingly white unbuttered popcorn. She’s bundled and comfortable, and he thinks about her normal becoming his as well, that it feels right, despite the popcorn. The thought is banished as quickly as it forms -- he doesn’t belong here. He was the reason she’d been awake, the reason she wasn’t sleeping peacefully, as she deserved.

“Why didn’t you tell me what happened at the jail?” He accuses. Scully’s back straightens, and he knows she knows what he means because her eyes don’t harden at his challenge.

She licks her top lip and sighs, looking down at her lap...

“It didn’t matter once I saw you again, I wasn’t infected.” Her hands dance across the terrycloth of her robe. Fidgeting was her tell when she was uncomfortable with something, he knew, and usually he’d back off and let her form her thoughts, but he needed to know.

“Would you have told me if you were?”

Scully’s gaze rises sharply to meet his again, indignant protest in her blue eyes. They battle silently for a moment, but Mulder’s accusation falls flat in the truth of the matter. Of course she would. Closing his eyes, he lays his head back against the couch. He should leave, he has all the answers he needs. He just needs a few seconds to breathe.

He hears the clatter of the remote as she turns off the television, the whisper of her slippers as she crosses to him. The instinct he’d had to bolt at her approach vanishes when she rests her warm hand on his leg.

“Why are you really here, Mulder?” Her voice is soft again, worried.

His rumpled shirt and wild hair tell the truth of his emotional state. She gives and she gives and she gives. Her mind, her trust, her strength. He takes and takes. Her time, her life. But he's left with nothing in the end, while she's bursting, full of everything he wants but cannot receive.

“I... can’t keep doing this, Scully.”

Her thumb draws comforting circles around the outside of his thigh, and he focuses on it. Imagines leaving his body, following the point of her thumb straight through to her soul, somehow finding a way to tell her without using words.

“You mean putting me at risk.”

He just looks at her, sighs.

“I’ve told you I need to work. I chose to enter the FBI, to take a field position. Not to live my life safely as a doctor or a teacher. To be by your side finding the truth.” She moves her hand to cover his own, which had moved to pick at her couch, worrying the material until it frays. Does he ruin everything he touches?

“But--”

“No, Mulder,” she interrupts. “When I was in that jail, they wouldn’t give me any information. I had to go searching for it.”

“Scully, I don’t think--”

“Let me finish.”

As much as he doesn’t want her to give him any more fuel for his nightmares, he remains silent.

“I was in the incinerator. I’d opened up a body bag, was looking at one of the victims, at the pustules that covered their skin.”

Mulder winces at the memory, the pulsating greenish welts threatening to burst at any second. Right on the boy. Instead, a bullet and brain matter. Nightmares and therapy for the kid for the rest of his life.

“Doctor Osborne found me there, tried to warn me away, but it was too late. The boil evacuated. All over him, and, I thought, all over myself.” Scully pauses and looks away with a tight frown, her shoulders drooping, speaking her next words reluctantly. “I understand your guilt, Mulder. A little. He died because of me.”

Mulder shakes his head. “No, Scully… he was there by choice--”

She leans closer, presses her other hand firmly to his lips, keeping him silent. “And it’s my choice.”

Something shifts. The horror of the case fades abruptly, the heat of her body next to his comes into sharp focus, pressed near in her need to comfort. He can smell her soap, the lotion she uses on her hands. Her hair is lit from behind, shines like a halo. She’s so beautiful.

So he takes her thumb in his mouth, sees her eyes dilate and shift to watch his lips as he suckles. But she doesn’t move away.

One of his hands moves up her arm to cup her face, angling it upwards. He releases her thumb with an audible pop and she slides it over his plush lower lip, taking her own between her teeth.

“Is this okay?” Mulder leans towards her, slipping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer.

“Yeah,” Scully sighs.

“You sure?”

“My choice.” She grins and closes the distance between them.

Mulder didn’t think things through when he took her thumb in his mouth, but the touch of her soft lips to his dashed away any thoughts of leaving her here with only a few sweet, nearly-friendly kisses. Something sparked, instantly, as their lips connected, and neither of them would be able to pretend this was simply an inappropriate but friendly moment between colleagues.

Did she crawl into his lap, or did he pull her on top of him? Like everything between them, he thought it was a bit of both. Her tongue in his, swiping across the roof of his mouth, the cage of his teeth. She tastes like flowers, salt, and something else that he knows is just her. Time has no meaning, and when she pulls away and rests her forehead on his, they’re both gasping for breath. He’s bereft, despite her closeness; diminished, despite his need to breathe.

Needing to keep connected, he finds the space just below her ear and kisses a hot trail down to her collarbone. A hum from deep within her chest accompanies his caress. He nuzzles her skin with his cheek, finds the layers of clothing hiding her from him suddenly offensive.

Thick fuzzy terrycloth gives way to the slick smoothness of her pajamas. She shrugs her shoulders and it falls to the floor in a heap, her hot mouth connecting with his once more.

As his hands glide up her ribcage, over the silky material, all he can think about is consuming her. Holding her close and disappearing into her soft skin. He winds his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, wonders at the feel of her small body against him. His thoughts zip from place to place: where he wants to kiss her next, memorizing the smell and feel of her, suppressing his own desires in an attempt to figure out what she likes, what she wants.

He reaches for the hem of her top, but she pulls away, stands, and holds her hand out to him. She’s smiling at him, trembling as she holds it there. Looking at her delicate fingers, he's worried that if he left the couch, he’d be just as likely to run out the door as he would to follow her. Her expression changes as she waits for him, confidence and desire giving way to uncertainty and shyness, something he’s never seen grace her features until now.

He takes her hand, lets her lead. He trusts her, more than himself.

They stand at the end of her bed, hands clasped together. He’s nervous, all of a sudden. The electricity between them fades, fills with awkwardness.

Releasing his hand, she starts unbuttoning her top, but he sees her hands shaking and knows it’s not just him. Covering her hand with her own, he places his finger at her chin and lifts her head to look at him. The light from the doorway brightens her face. Her eyes are deep indigo, and a flush brightens her cheeks. Her chest rises rapidly as they look at each other, the sound of their breathing and the ticking of the clock on her bedside table breaking the silence. As each tick and each puff of breath beats against his ears, he feels the moment slipping away.

It’s Scully who breaks the standoff. She grasps the collar of his shirt and pulls him down into a kiss. The tension between them dissipates, the passion reigniting. All of the doubt disappears at the touch of her lips against his. Her hands wind through his hair, tug not-so-gently. He resumes the task of unbuttoning her shirt, encouraging her efforts with a soft groan.

“Please, Scully,” he says, mouthing her name against her lips. Please love me. Please touch me. Please don’t stop. Please let this really be happening.

His fingers release the last button, push aside the material, graze along the smooth skin of her back. As they divest themselves of the rest of their clothing, Scully nips at his bottom lip, drawing blood in her fervor. Pulling away quickly, she raises a finger to his mouth, caresses the spot where she injured him.

“Sorry,” she says, and he sees the uncertainty start to creep back.

He shakes his head in amazement that she considers him and chuckles softly. “Don’t be.”

Scully stares at him, her eyes darkening, and a smile perking up the corners of her mouth. “You liked that?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Grabbing her shoulders, he brings her close, kissing her roughly and guiding them both onto the bed. She’s underneath him, surrounded by him. Light against dark, hard against soft.

The spark in her eyes and the playful smile both betray her enjoyment of his attempt to wrest control away from her. She doesn't give in, though, fights back just as hard, pushes him away and pulls him back. Like the tides, his Scully, the inevitable surge against time and distance.

His.

When he grinds his erection against her leg, she whimpers - whimpers. His thoughts wander to places he usually avoids: how sexy she is, whether wielding her gun or her scalpel or her skeptical gaze. And now, nothing but her luminous skin, piercing eyes, and plush lips. As his hands wrap around her waist, he encompasses all of her with the width of his hand. Her presence makes everyone else seem so insignificant, it's easy to forget that she's so fucking tiny.

Nipping and grasping turns into soft caresses, his touch feathering her ribcage, dusting along the small curve of her abdomen, slipping down to slick against her wet slit.

“Oh… yes,” Scully whispers into his ear. Her nibbles turn into licks, as if they know they want this to last, that it might not be forever. That they could make time stand still in her bed, just for tonight.

He moves downward, swirls his tongue around one hardened nipple than the other. Pausing there, finding himself stuck. Her hand brushes through his hair as he nips and teases her hardened peaks. Glancing upwards, wanting to see her, needing to know if this is right, he sees her head thrown back, her other hand tangled in her own hair, eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth is open and relaxed, uttering soft moans and unintelligible words, and then it hits him.

“Muuh...lderrr…”

The way she says his name, how it rolls off her tongue. He'd thought he'd heard it said with every possible inflection, but this is his new favorite. The cadence of the sigh-like "Mu", the extended "r". It sends a shiver down his spine, vibrating along his limbs, through the tips of his fingers and toes. He breathes against her, closes his eyes, and takes a moment to recover.

Moving upwards, he caresses the side of her face and waits for her to look at him. Her eyes open, and she blinks a few times to focus.

“Why’d you stop?”

He chuckles at her protest, at the breathy whine that peeks through. Kissing her mouth a few times, he looks at her. Watches her expression change from mildly frustrated to tender. The fan of her hair against her pillow beckons him, and he threads his fingers through the strands, combing them out neatly, giving her a halo.

Scully’s hands wander, tracing down his neck, along his shoulder blades and around to play with the hair on his chest. Dancing her thumbs across his nipples, he jerks backward, a jolt of electricity moving through him at her touch. Her grin widens and she tweaks them in her fingers, pushes him back and over, moves downwards and swipes her tongue around the sensitive flesh.

She glides her tongue along his chest, dips into his navel, lower, lower. Traveling across his skin, leaving a soothing wet trail and an aching anticipation as she moves downwards.

Gentle hands trace the veins of his cock, graze the head, sweep the drop of liquid from its tip. She’s looking at him as she tests the weight of his balls in a hand, as the other takes his cock and strokes up and down a few times. He’s impossibly hard, knows that if she continues this will end much sooner than he’d like.

He scoots away from her, evading her deft hands, and pins her underneath him. The movement is more forceful than he intended, but her mischievous smile silences his apology.

When his breathing steadies, he kisses away her pout. He drags his nose along her cheekbone and breathes in the scent of her hair. Presses gentle kisses along her neck, feeling the pulse of her jugular with his tongue. The life of her, so intertwined with his own, the steady beat keeping him afloat.

As his touch travels down her body, he feels her tense, relax, whispers encouraging him on his journey. The musky scent of her arousal, growing stronger as he dips downwards, tastes her for the first time.

She writhes as he slicks his tongue upwards along her folds, his nose bumping her clit just briefly. The hair on her mound tickles his cheek, and he loves all of her. Kissing, sucking, nibbling with his lips. He memorizes her, drowns himself in her smell, her taste, the vision of her in front of him, her voice anchoring him to the present. Resists the urge to thrust against the edge of the bed, to make this about her, to let this last.

Trembling against him, her inner walls contracting around his fingers, he steadies her with his arms, avoids being crushed by her thighs. As she relaxes, he rests his head against her and dreams of always being surrounded by her - her liquid warmth on his chin, her scent enveloping him, the salty indescribable taste of her on his tongue.

He pulls away reluctantly, searches through the pile of clothes they discarded in their haste earlier. In his pocket, he finds his wallet, in it a condom, thankfully not expired.

Climbing up next to her, he pulls her next to him and brushes a soothing kiss against the flushed skin of her shoulder. He attempts to open the package but his palms are slick from sweat and Scully, and as a bonus, he’s shaking like a nervous teenager. Feeling foolish and inadequate, he’s about to throw the damn thing across the room when her small hands encompass his and she takes the square of foil from his grasp. His emotions settle at her gentle touch, and he leans down and kisses her firmly, gratefully. As her tongue slides into his mouth and tastes him thoroughly, he wonders: does she like the taste of herself on him?

He lays down next to her as she takes over, resting his hand on her leg when she sits up, drawing circles with his thumb, remembering what started all of this tonight. He studies her, eyes traveling over the soft curves of her breasts, her slim waist, the jut of her hip, and softness of her thighs. Hearing the rip of the package, his eyes dart back upwards and he sees the wrapper hanging from her mouth. The shyness creeps back into her face as she holds the condom between them.

“If you’re not sure--” he starts.

Scully looks at him, raises her eyebrow, and shakes her head.

“It’s just been a while.”

Mulder nods but doesn’t say anything. For him, unfortunately, it hasn’t.

His mind flashes back to the memories of when she’d been taken. Shame wells up, threatens to overtake him. The details of the case in L.A. were left deliberately vague, but Scully wasn’t stupid, she could read between the lines. She knew the risks he took, what he’d done. He was a piece of shit and Scully was…Scully was--

Her hand cups his face, and he returns to her.

“No, Mulder.”

The shyness is gone, replaced by familiar certainty, his steadfast partner holding him up, rescuing him from himself. When she gets him to smile, she withdraws. She places the condom on him and is straddling him in two quick movements, bottom lip between her teeth, eyes sparkling in anticipation. Bringing him back, moving things forward. She’s efficient, his Scully.

His.

Delicate hands dance along his shoulders and press into his chest before she locks her eyes with his and adjusts himself at her entrance.

He watches as she takes him in. Her brow is furrowed, eyes squeezed shut like their lovemaking is a mystery that needs solving. Maybe it is? She inches down on his cock, agonizingly slowly, adjusting to his size before she finally surrounds him.

When she opens her eyes, looks at him, his breath catches. It’s really her.

He breathes out, feels the poison that consumes him, drives him, slip away into the darkness of her apartment. Breathing in and watching her move above him, his heart swells. He feels her everywhere, deep inside his marrow, every neuron in his brain - hers, hers. A beautiful tangle, something he hopes never unknots.

He sees her, really sees her. Her outer shell, her private warmth. All of it. But more importantly, looking into her eyes, he believes she sees him too. Even the ugliness that he tries to hide. But instead of disappointment and fear she caresses his face, loves him harder. For the first time, he believes he’s worthy, not only of her but of this.

“You feel that, Scully?” His voice breaks the silence, raspy and breathless.

She smiles briefly, grinds her hips around him, flicks her thumbs around his nipples. “Oh, yeah.”

“No,” he says, as he stills her movements with a hand on her hip. He needs to know. Is this as monumental for her as it is for him? Is all of this one-sided?

He places his hand over her sweat-slicked skin, where he feels her heart beating. He focuses on a smattering of freckles near his thumb, imagines he can see the universe. Raising his eyes to her face, he can't find adequate words to express the emotions swirling inside of him.

“This.”

She looks at him. He can feel her brain calculating all the possible meanings of his words. He hopes his eyes convey what he can’t speak.

A small nod, almost imperceptible if he hadn’t been looking for a sign. Leaning forward, she presses her lips against his. Tears fall down the side of his face as he squeezes his eyes shut. He wraps his hand through her hair and kisses her back thoroughly, until he’s sure the tear tracks have blended into the sweat at his temples.

She starts moving again, rocking against him with soft thrusts, keeping her forehead pressed firmly against his own.

His hands wander up her back, counting her vertebrae. His teeth clasp at the junction of her neck and shoulder. He’ll have to ask her if there’s a name for it.

Slow movements shift quickly into erratic desperation. She’s tensely coiled, shoulders bunched as she grasps his chest, embeds her nails into the skin of his shoulders, marking him. Exhaustion causes her to falter, hands trembling and breath catching in her throat as he flicks his finger over her nipples, strains upwards to claim her rosy peaks with his mouth.

His Scully. His.

He takes control, wrapping his hands around her hips, marveling again at how small she is, yet how well they fit together. She’s so warm, so tight, and he’s glad for the barrier of the condom, it keeps him from falling towards the edge too quickly. What she would feel like without it, he can’t even imagine.

She’s so close, moans lengthening, deepening, a thread connecting him to this reality. The flush of her chest deepens, spreads, the pitch of her voice rises, and she stiffens as her inner walls pulse around him.

He catches her when she falls, kisses her temple. Moves her underneath him once more and waits. Watches. So beautiful. Her heavy lids lift, swollen lips reach for his, and they kiss as she returns to herself.

Her hand wraps around his neck, and she whispers in his ear. “I almost feel embarrassed.”

“For what?” Mulder pulls away to look at her.

“I feel… greedy,” she says. “This isn’t just about me, you know.”

“Believe me, Scully, I’m enjoying myself.”

She grins broadly, a smile he rarely sees that crinkles the edges of her eyes, places a dimple in her cheek. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well get moving, then,” she says impatiently.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her laugh fades as he starts thrusting, slow for only a few moments before the pleasure at the edge of his senses calls to him. Encouraging him, she grabs onto him, bites his shoulder, lifts her legs to wrap around his waist. He buries his face into her neck, breathes Scully. Her nails pierce into the skin of his back, and he imagines she wants to crawl deep inside him just as much as he wants to crawl inside of her.

It’s that thought and the sound of her gentle whisper calling his name that pushes him over the edge. He’s floating, all the darkness banished in a moment of pure, clear light. He drives into her a few more times, strains against her soft body, and somehow remembers to collapse to her side instead of crushing her beneath him.

Lying beside her, catching his breath for a moment, he keeps his hand entwined tightly in hers. He’s afraid if he lets go he’ll wake up, have to face the reality of life without having experienced this moment with her. Turning to face her, he watches her chest rise and fall, feels her pulse in the tight grasp of his hand steady. Holds on for just a few more moments.

He rises when her hand relaxes in his, thinks she’s asleep. In her bathroom, he removes the condom and disposes of it, pees and cleans himself, fetches a warm, damp cloth and brings it out to her. She’s lying in the same position he left her, legs and arms askew, skin glowing in the moonlight from the window. One of her arms covers her eyes, and if he strains, he thinks he might hear the soft sound of her snoring. Smiling, he touches the cloth to her knee so he doesn’t startle her.

“Mmmm.”

“You sleeping?”

“Mmm, not yet.” Her voice is low and rumbly, and she peeks out beneath her arm to grin at him contentedly. “That was nice.”

“Nice?!”

She chuckles, and his breath catches at the movement. The image is burned into his brain, and he vows to make her laugh at every opportunity from now on.

“Amazing, then.” Her grin has turned into a wide, toothy smile, blue eyes peering up through sleepy lids, reassuring him of the truth of her statement.

Mulder swells with pride and cleans her up. Settling down next to her, she leans up on her elbow and kisses him, dragging her teeth along his lower lip and then looks at him. She doesn’t say a word, but in the comfortable silence, he can feel her thoughts. She’s happy, and he did that. His hand rises to cup her cheek and she sinks into it, closing her eyes and sighing. The contentment that rolls off of her wraps around him like a blanket.

Turning her face, she kisses his palm and smiles shyly. “Be right back.”

She heads to the bathroom, and Mulder adjusts himself on the bed. He fidgets again, moves on his side. There’s something wrong. Is her bed too soft? He bounces, adjusts the pillows, fetches his boxers from the floor and puts them on before sinking back under the blankets. Her comforter is soft but not overly warm.

Everything’s perfect, he thinks.

Suddenly panic rises within him, the guilt from earlier almost pushing him over with its weight. What has he done?

He sees it now, a vision manifesting with excruciating clarity. Two paths laid out in front of him. The first - the comfort of her bed, the warmth of her embrace. Bubbling happiness in his chest. A bright light that blinds him. And the second - shadows and darkness, but his eyes pierce through them. Scully at his side, banishing the darkness slowly, inch by inch. He knows he can’t have both.

This could have been something good and whole and right. A respite from the horror of their difficult cases. An island where he could forget. But he knows himself, he knows what he needs to do, and things with Scully could never be just a momentary escape.

He didn’t know… didn’t know. The intensity of their time together, the feelings that welled up within him. He didn’t think he was capable of them, knew for sure that he could lose himself in her, that she would unwittingly consume him.

When she comes out of the bathroom, he’s yanking on his jeans and can’t meet her gaze.

“You’re leaving.”

He peeks over and sees her toes digging into the rug, but he doesn't speak. Staring at it, the white and blue checks blur, and her feet disappear behind a curtain of uninvited tears. He blinks fiercely, looks away.

He continues dressing, and he hears the whisper of her pulling on her pajamas, discarded on the floor in the heat of their passion. Several times he opens his mouth to speak, thoughts half-formed into inadequate words. What he wants. What he needs. But what about what she needs? The awareness, the connection they had only minutes ago fades. It’s replaced by sudden and terrible uncertainty.

Completely clothed, he turns to her. She’s lying in bed, curled on her side away from him, her hair fanned out and hiding her face.

“Scully--”

“I know.”

She knows?

“You can’t let this interfere with the work, right? That’s what you’re going to say?” She says, voice thick and flat.

“We can’t… I can’t...”

She doesn’t say anything. He watches the rise and fall of her body as she breathes, and it steadies him.

“That was…a lot,” Mulder says, as he perches on the edge of the bed, ready to take flight at any moment. Being so near and yet knowing those last few inches, pressed against her side, are an impossible distance.

She turns to face him, face stoic, cheeks dry. It doesn’t comfort him.

“I wondered how long it would take,” Scully looks at him, hiding away. That connection they had, so intense and unexpected, scurrying away in the shadows of her bedroom.

“I could lose myself in this…and I just can’t,” he says.

“I know.” She bites her swollen lips, and his gaze can’t help but linger on them. He knows what she tastes like. How can he make himself forget?

Dread rises in his chest as they look at each other. Strangers with a tenuous connection. No longer partners from before, or lovers as of tonight, but something in-between. Would it be like this forever, or could they return to the safety of their partnership?

“Can we go back? To the way it was?” Mulder can’t believe he could be so lucky to have had this moment with Scully, that he could discard her so easily, and that she’d still be willing to stay.

At her silence, he looks up at her, the fear crawling in his belly and making him feel sick. Her hair is wild, the bed sheets tangled beneath her, but her eyes pierce into his with steely blue determination, and her mouth is set in a stubborn line. She’s sitting up ramrod straight, her back rigid, her shoulders set.

“I don't have a choice, Mulder.”

The corner of her mouth turns up in a small smile, and he lets out his breath in a ragged sigh. This quest is hers just as much as it is his, now. He knows he can’t do it without her, at least not for very long. Hates himself for indulging in this moment tonight, that he could have lost it all because of his impulsiveness.

He smiles at her sadly and wrenches his gaze away, pushes himself off of her bed, and flees from her apartment before he can change his mind. The key twists in her lock with finality, his head a mess of conflicted emotions, the walk to his car a blur.

Taking a moment in his car, head bowed, he polishes his memories of tonight. Turns it into a small gem, buries it under the weight of his obligations. Tells himself he regrets giving in, regrets the weakness that led him here tonight. Knows that deep down, his weakness is not being strong enough to stay.

#my fic #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #msr fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #msr #x-files fanfic #xf smut #early season msr #msrheadcanon #x-files #the x-files

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ufuckingpastry · 3 years

Text

Amongst Feathers and Emeralds

AO3 Link

Hi, this ended up with a lot of words, so I've split this fic into 2 chapters. This fic takes place after the events of These Bonds We Keep and Stalking Nightmares.

Content Warning: Trauma/Dealing with Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Hallucinations, Derealization, PTSD, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

This fic is based on the characters in the DreamSMP, not the content creators. Any views expressed in this fic are not a reflection of the content creators in any shape or form.

Note: I do use terms in this that are meant replace terms used in the Homestuck quadrant system with words that would fit in the Dream SMP universe. See the relationship note below.

Relationships: Dream/Technoblade - Soulbleeder/Kismesistude/Rival Shipping Technoblade/Philza - Starfated/Moirallegiance/Platonic Relationship

Chapter 1: Like a Ghost, You’re Haunting Me

Philza bounced the tea ball in the mug, watching the tea steep into the water with dead eyes. His eyes closed slowly before he shook himself awake. No, no, he had to be awake. He had to. Technoblade still hadn't woken from the events with the egg. Philza had slowly fed him slices of the god apple Dream left, hoping to see his eyes open not with bloodlust and snarls, but just… something else. Philza cupped his face with a groan. The only time he slept was when Ranboo visited, but those moments were few and far in between. He didn't want to bother him with this, even as he grew more sleep deprived.

"I brought him home. To you."

Dream's voice remained ever present in his head. To you. Because Philza knew how to take care of Techno. More than anyone, he knew. And somehow Dream knew that too. He had analyzed their conversation, there in the snow. He had to know what Dream meant.

"He never told you."

Told him what? Philza couldn't figure it out. He couldn't go talk to Dream because that would mean leaving Technoblade. And also, Sam had put the prison into total lockdown as he fixed the break Dream managed to worm his way through. Puffy was there. She could help him.

Philza rubbed at his eyes and pulled the tea ball out. He set it aside and took the tray of food up to Technoblade's room. He laid still, his breathing more like pants as he fought off whatever demons plagued him. Philza stepped close, set the tray aside, and sat next to the bed. His own bed rested off to the side, close enough to touch and share warmth. He cupped Techno's cheek, his tension and stress fading as he watched Techno soften under his touch and his breathing slow.

“Techno, please,” he begged, his voice soft. “Please wake up. I need you back.” He rubbed his thumb on his cheek, blinking when a drop of water fell next to his thumb. His breath hitched and he wiped away his tears. It had been days, days, since he had last seen his friend awake. Days since he had last seen his friend not suffering. A sob slipped out before he could stop it. He covered his face, another sob wracking him. His wings flared out and wrapped around his form, as if to hide his sorrow from the rest of the world.

Like the days before, he wondered if Techno would ever wake up. He had been with the egg for three days. Alone. Isolated from everyone except those who wished harm upon him. An ugly sound broke out of Philza and his wings closed tighter. The corruption that burrowed into Techno had faded under Philza’s care, but he wondered about the corruption within. Would he ever see his friend again, the way he was before?

He cried for what felt like hours, unable to help his sobs. The food and his tea had gone cold, but Philza didn’t want to crack open his wings yet. Just… just a little longer. He just wanted a little longer before he had to face the world again.

“Phil?”

Philza’s breath caught. He didn’t dare to breathe, even as he felt Technoblade shift next to him. When his friend called his name again, Philza peeked through the shredded feathers. Technoblade’s head turned towards him, infinitely tired, but awake. Infinitely weary, but whole and not a snarl in sight. Seeing that Philza was looking at him, Techno rested a hand on Philza’s thigh, worry creasing his brow.

“Phil? Why are you crying?”

Philza dove for Techno, dragging him into a tight embrace and heaved another sob. Techno groaned in pain, but he hugged Philza back.

“Phil?” Techno called again as Phil sobbed into his shoulder. He groaned as he tried to sit up in bed. His hand pet over Phil’s splayed wings, his fingers finding the vanes and stroking them softly. His friend shivered under his touch, but rather than move away, he pressed closer, squeezed him harder. They stayed like this for a long while, holding their silence together. When Technoblade broke the silence, he spoke quietly. “Phil, what—what happened?”

“You,” he started with a shaky exhale. He sat back, wiping at his eyes as he settled in next to his friend. “BadBoyHalo and Antfrost trapped you above the egg. Puffy and I went looking for you and—” Phil closed his mouth, biting off the rest of that sentence. Techno’s hand stroked his feathers again and he breathed out. Forgive him, but he still needed time to understand, “And we brought you home,” he lied.

Technoblade pressed a hand to his face, his breath still slow and deep, but… His eyes fell shut as he tried to think, tried to remember all that had happened. He… There was the dark, the blood, the lava popping in the distance, the whispers, the shape of the ghost in the corners of his vision, the laughter and victory in Bad’s voice as Technoblade dropped into the hole. His fingers closed and he could feel the scar on his palm from holding onto the shard of obsidian, the goal of slamming it into his—

His fingers found the scars in his face, the lines of where the egg’s vines had burrowed into his flesh, taking hold of him, taking him into darker and darker places where even the voices couldn’t reach. Places where the ghost put weapons into his hands to put weapons into his/its enemies’ eyes, into their flesh, into into into into—

Philza’s brow furrowed as he watched Techno hands curl into fists, the shaking returning, the snarls cracking across his face, his eyes darkening in rage and fury. His friend’s breaths were coming quicker now. His gaze focused on something in middle distance and. And Phil went cold. No… No, no, not again! No!

“I’ll kill them!” Technoblade lurched from the bed with a roar. “I’ll slaughter them all!” Philza scrambled off the bed, reaching for Techno, reaching for his friend. “I’ll stain the earth with their BLOOD!” Technoblade snarled, his rage propelling him forward towards the ladder. He’d go back, he’d fill that cave with TNT, and he’d—

His legs crumpled beneath him and he dropped to the ground. Technoblade clawed at the floor, his breaths panicked and gasping, pain shooting through his leg and his lungs and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t—!

Arms wrapped around Technoblade, black wings encircling them and hiding them from the world. Technoblade’s breath caught in his throat as Philza squeezed him.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, Techno, stop. You’re safe. You’re home. You’re not there anymore!” Phil closed his eyes and he let some old power seep through the fabric of the universe. Just enough that soothing darkness, the darkness like the space between the stars on a moonless night, enveloped them. Technoblade’s breathing slowed in the space where even time begged for stillness.

And it was in this darkness that Technoblade cried.

---

Philza set aside the tea ball and picked up the steaming mug of peppermint tea. He turned to see Technoblade resting face down in Steve’s fur, his back rising and falling gently as if he were sleeping. Philza knew better though. He still stepped quietly towards his friend and knelt down. Techno turned his face towards the angel and took the mug with soft thanks when it was offered to him. Philza glanced at the almost untouched plate of food. He pushed the plate towards Techno with a pointed look.

“Techno, eat.”

“When was the last time you slept, Phil?”

“Techno,” Philza said.

“Phil,” Techno echoed. They stared at each other for a while, then Technoblade sighed. “If I eat, will you sleep?”

“The bed is too far away.” Philza scooted in close, folding his wings up as he sat up against the wall of Steve. Technoblade grabbed the plate and shifted his position. He tapped the floor next to him and Philza settled at his side. “No feeding Steve your plate, either,” he warned.

“When have I ever?”

“That night I fried salmon?”

“Bruh, you set the plate too close to his face. I did not feed him!”

“I saw you sneaking him bites.”

“He was skin and bones!”

“Well, he’s not anymore!”

The two frowned at each other, challenging looks on their faces. Technoblade broke first, his frown cracking into a smile before ducking in a hearty laugh. Philza joined in with his own airy laugh, falling over into Technoblade’s lap. Philza gazed up at his best friend and smiled. Technoblade smiled back at him, then had to look away from the softness in Phil’s expression. His cheeks warmed and he coughed to break the growing silence.

“Go to sleep, Phil. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Phil asked, his voice cracking on the word. Technoblade stiffened underneath him, feeling the weight of his answer before he responded. He exhaled softly, then lifted Phil up enough so they could press their foreheads together.

“I promise.”

Technoblade finished his plate as Phil settled in his lap. Technoblade leaned over, grabbed a nearby blanket, and settled it over Phil's form, being careful not to pinch the wings as he did so. Phil fell asleep quickly, belying how tired he really was. Technoblade pet his hair as he slept, his thoughts drifting. He tried to remember what happened after… After he got away from the egg. He found he couldn’t remember much. He… he barely even remembered leaving that dark room. He tried to kill himself, to trick the egg into letting him go. He remembered it shrieking in his skull. And he remembered it all going dark. He remembered nightmares plaguing him, of stumbling in the dark and snarling threats at those who led him away. He remembered a dark shape, familiar in the form, familiar in how it rumbled at him, but his head ached when he tried to put a name or a face to the feeling.

The nightmares continued. He’d wake to Phil and. And he didn’t know if it was a trick and he would fade like he had every time before, or if it was a trick come to hurt him. And then he remembered waking to feathers brushing his face, feathers curling around a body that hitched with sobs and shuddered with breaths that felt like they ripped his soul from his body. It was Phil crying and Technoblade didn’t understand why.

Except, he did… sort of. How he got from the community area, from the dark room, to his home, Technoblade didn’t know. He would have remembered the nether, wouldn’t he? But no, Phil said he had been passed out, asleep in bed. But how else would Phil have taken him home? It was too long of a trip across the overworld to drag an unconscious body. Technoblade’s fingers found the feathers in his best friend’s hair and stroked them idly. He continued to think and think and overthink until the thoughts felt worn against his skull. At one point, he tucked himself under the blanket, the night air seeping in through cracks in the walls. He made a note to fix those as soon as possible as he dozed off into darkness.

Technoblade blinked awake. Morning light streamed in through the windows, warm on his face. He felt around under the blanket and froze when he couldn’t find Phil. He scrambled to his feet, panic welling under his ribs. Steve grumbled as he shoved at him in his haste. A clattering from the kitchen startled Technoblade.

“Techno?” Phil’s voice called. He appeared in the doorway, a towel in his hands. His face softened when he saw Technoblade’s panic slipping across his uncovered face. “Oh, come here,” he said, ordering gently. And Technoblade went to him. He wrapped his arms around Phil in an embrace more desperate than he meant it to be. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you. I’m sorry I left, but you looked so peaceful sleeping there.” Phil’s feathers ruffled under his fingertips as he carded through them. He relaxed piece by piece, holding onto Phil until he reluctantly let him go.

“Thanks,” he sighed. Phil cupped his cheek and smiled gently.

“All good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Phil smiled and dropped his hand onto his shoulder. “Now, I need you to undress.”

“Uh,” Technoblade’s cheeks warmed. “What?”

“Techno, you’ve been bedridden for nearly a week. I am going to give you a bath,” he said with an unimpressed look. His gaze dropped to his arm, then to Technoblade’s leg where he had to reset it. “And check your injuries,” he added thoughtfully. Phil’s lip pressed together and his gaze flicked up to his friend. Technoblade’s face warmed even more at that look.

“You’ll take care of me?” he asked.

“Oh, I am going to take such good care of you,” Phil replied, his voice dropping low and gentle. “Now go ahead.” Phil leaned back against the wall, his arms crossing over his midsection as he waited.

“Right here?” Technoblade asked.

“Yeah. Undress for me, Techno.”

Technoblade chewed his lip, then purposely looked away as he started to undress for Phil. He took his time because he knew Phil liked to watch, liked to see his skin flush and warm from the attention. His ears twitched as Phil pushed up from the wall. He walked around Technoblade as he finished, his fingertips brushing along the multitude of scars that crisscrossed his flesh. Phil’s fingers lingered on one on his back, where the anvil hit first. Phil frowned at the scar and rubbed his thumb over the faded mark. His hand pressed fully on his back, radiating warmth on Technoblade’s cooling skin. Technoblade exhaled, not surprised by how shaky his breath sounded already.

"There you go," Phil crooned. "Let's go." The hand on his back applied just enough pressure that had Technoblade following immediately. Phil must have planned this because the bath was already warm by the time they got to it. Steam drifted up from the surface and Technoblade eyed the flowers and other herbs drifting on the surface. He climbed in with Phil's encouragement, a low groan escaping between his teeth as the warm water settled into his bones. He tilted his head back and found a pillow resting beneath him.

"Going all out, huh?" He asked as Phil moved around the washroom, gathering wash cloths and small brushes and more oils to help clean him. Phil simply hummed and settled down beside the bath. His jacket hung by the door, the sleeves of his kimono rolled up to keep from getting wet, and his wings hung relaxed on his back.

"It's you, of course I am."

"Keep me away from the bees. I'm gonna smell like flowers by the time you're done with me. They'll be all over me."

Phil laughed, loud and bright. He picked one of the sprigs of lavender out and dropped it on Technoblade's nose. He snorted out air in an attempt to dislodge it. Phil snickered again and went to work. He scrubbed down where the grime was caked on the most, though Technoblade noted that he wasn't as dirty as he probably should have been. Maybe Phil cleaned him when he first came, passed out and bleeding. The bandages were off his arm, the flesh half healed and scarred over. Phil saw him looking and rested a hand next to the wound. He rubbed his thumb over his skin and gently pushed it back under the water.

Phil was gentle with him as he cleaned Technoblade. He blamed the flush spreading across his skin on the warmth of the bath and not on the soft touches of his friend’s fingers. Phil took his time, murmuring praise when Technoblade obeyed whatever order he gave out. It was nice, to relinquish control to someone he knew he could trust. He couldn't remember much after being trapped with the egg, but Phil was here.

Phil was here and touching him and whispering praises as he cleaned nearly every inch of him. Technoblade couldn't remember a time he was so relaxed. He almost started dozing in the water, his eyes lidded and his mouth cracked in a lazy grin. Wings fluttered above him as Phil bent down. His eyes flickered open just in time for their foreheads to press together. When Phil parted and started gathering up his supplies, Technoblade caught sight of his wings.

They looked… worn. Weary. Relaxed for now, but the feathers weren't straight and many spots looked dirty. A wing fluttered near him and Technoblade reached out and brushed his fingertips along the feathers. Phil stiffened with a soft gasp. He stroked the feathers gently, smiling as Phil breathed all shaky and wanting.

“I should preen you soon,” he said casually. Phil pulled his wing back and spun on his heel.

“Not until I’m done with you first!” he said with a huff. Technoblade grinned at him. A towel hit him square in the face and he burst out in a loud laugh. “Get dried up. I need to look at your injuries.”

“Am I staying naked for this too?” He asked, pushing out of the water with a groan. He leaned heavy on the leg he hadn’t broken, bracing himself on the wall as he made his way out. He leaned too far one way and Phil caught him with a grunt before he fell.

“Careful, mate.” Water dripped all over Phil’s clothes, but it didn’t look like he much cared, more worried for his friend than for himself. Technoblade thanked him softly. Phil helped him dry off, more focused on keeping him upright rather than doing any actual drying. He thanked him again as they limped to the table Phil set up. Phil helped him lay across it, the towel over his lap for modesty.

Phil checked over him for a moment, to make sure he was comfortable, then left to go change. Still warm from his bath and definitely smelling like lavender and berries, Technoblade dozed off. A touch to his shoulder woke him. He glanced up to Phil’s apologetic face. He was in his undershirt, his arms free of fabric so they wouldn’t get in the way as he worked on Technoblade. In one of his hands was a simple black strip of cloth. Technoblade’s breath hitched at the sight of it.

“Hey,” Phil greeted, lifting up the blindfold. “Thought you might want this.” Technoblade nodded once and Phil tied it over his eyes. Darkness fell and he relaxed immediately. Fake darkness, it might be, but darkness all the same. He could hear Phil walking around the table, gathering supplies. A match struck and the hiss of something catching fire echoed in his ears. The faint smell of incense filled the room and Technoblade sighed.

“What? Don’t I smell good enough after that bath?” he teased. A hand pressed firmly on his chest, pushing him back down to the table.

“Hush,” Phil whispered, dragging out the word. Technoblade went down without a word. His eyes closed behind the blindfold and his ears twitched to listen for his friend. Philza made noise, of course. He knew Technoblade would want to hear something, especially after being alone for so long. But he didn’t really go out of his way to do it. He trailed his fingers along his friend’s skin, watching almost idly as the muscles twitched under his caress. Each breath, each gasp sent another spark of… something down the length of his spine. Something fierce, protective, loving, wanting, and just. Something. He never really understood it, why caring for his friend in this manner felt. Well, it felt so intimate. Just shy of romantic, like a step removed. Something lovers might partake in, or, perhaps, what it felt like to worship a god. Philza snickered to himself; a god, indeed.

Technoblade made a questioning noise beneath his hand and he hushed him again. Philza exhaled slowly, focusing his thoughts again. He started first on the wound on Technoblade’s arm. The bath helped to clean it out, to soften the flesh so he could poke at it some to check the healing progress. It looked fine, but Philza wrapped it in a bandage again. More to protect it from outside filth from infecting it than to stop any bleeding. Next, he checked the small wounds crossing over his body where the corruption burrowed in. Those looked like they would remain as scars, but the corruption had faded for sure. He worried the corruption would return should they get close to the egg before Technoblade finished recovering.

Finally, he moved to Technoblade’s leg, to where he had set it himself. Philza didn’t know what happened to cause that; Techno hadn’t offered that information yet. That was alright. Philza was a patient man. He could wait forever if he needed to. He just hoped it wouldn’t take that long. The bone was set well, nearly perfect, plus it had already started to heal. Philza straightened out the leg, then attached the splint. He let his hands explore his friend, feeling for other hurts, others pains, other injuries that his tired eyes missed. A sniffle caught his attention. He pulled his hands a breath away, worried that he had hurt Techno.

Then, he noticed the tight lines of Technoblade’s body, the way he shook minutely, the tense shoulders, the gritted teeth. Philza felt his old heart melt. He stepped close to Techno’s face, his hand coming down to cup his friend’s cheek.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, stroking the cheek under his thumb. “You’re safe, my friend.” Technoblade sniffled again. Phil cupped his face with both hands, pressing their foreheads together. Slowly, like water eroding away stones, Technoblade let himself go. Piece by shaking piece, the tears came, and Techno cried. Unlike earlier, where he buried himself in Philza’s feathers and squeezed him until his bones creaked under the force, this time he cried in little bursts. Gentle would be the wrong word to use, but he cried gently. The blindfold helped, Philza knew. Technoblade wouldn’t allow himself to cry in anything other than darkness. He hated to let people see him cry, not because he expected others to think lesser of him or because his childhood taught him that he wasn’t manly enough if he cried. It was the vulnerability. The same vulnerability that made him scream hatred upon friends turned enemies. The vulnerability that made each betrayal hurt worse and worse. The same vulnerability that left Philza shaking for days after he plunged his son’s sword through his belly.

Philza sat with him, sat with their hurts together, for what felt like eons. He continued to touch Technoblade, to let him know he was still there, still taking care of him. He waited until Technoblade cried his last tear, then patted his shoulder.

“I’m going to get some water. You’re going to drink it all.” He stood up, but a hand grabbed his wrist. He turned back to see Technoblade with his head turned towards him. The blindfold still covered his eyes, but Philza could feel his friend looking straight at him.

“I’m preening you next.”

They took a break afterwards. Of course, they did. Philza had to make sure Techno was okay, but every time, he was still surprised when Technoblade took care of him back. While the angel cleaned up the table and the bath, Technoblade cooked them lunch. It was mushroom stew, Techno’s favorite. A comfort food for when the comforting became too intense. They ate, then joked with each other, and enjoyed each other’s company. Philza talked about building a house next to his, talked about moving his stuff over sometime so he didn’t have to always be in Techno’s space.

“But I like you in my space,” Technoblade replied, his arms tugging Philza close.

“Yeah, but, mate,” he started. Technoblade’s smile fell a degree and he nodded. He understood what Philza meant. It had been nearly a century that he wandered the overworld alone before he met Technoblade. Solitude was a close friend to Philza, almost like a lover itself. But, that he wanted to make a permanent base here, close to his friend… Well, that meant something. Philza didn’t quite know what kind of something, but he was a patient man. He could wait to find out, even if he hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long.

Once lunch was cleaned up, Technoblade and Phil settled together on a mat on the floor. The piglin would have preferred the bed, but Phil worried about the mess they would make. At least the mat was soft on the stone floor. At least the fire crackled warmth nearby. Phil still hadn’t put his jacket back on. His bare arms showed goosebumps and Technoblade ran his hands down his skin, trying to help warm him back up.

“Relax for me, my friend,” he said as he carded his fingers through Phil's hair, earning him a nervous little laugh. Phil peered back at him through the feathers of the raised wing, checking that it was him at his back. Technoblade smiled reassuringly. He gently pulled Phil’s hair, guiding his head back towards him.

“You’re going to be good for me now, won’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah, mate,” Phil breathed. When Technoblade let go of his hair, he bent forward, splaying his wings for his friend. Technoblade reached into the bag of tools at his side, pulling out the little tool to help with picking out dirt and parasites. He wouldn’t need it yet, but he liked to look at it before starting. Phil huffed out a laugh when Technoblade set the bone tool aside.

“You still have that old thing?” he asked, stalling. Technoblade ran his fingers down the leading edge of Phil’s wing, savoring the gasp that touch got him.

“Of course,” he said, his fingers light as air as he felt over the feathers. He started with straightening the feathers, able to talk while he worked at this point. “You gave it to me the first time I did this.” He glanced at the tool and leaned forward, enough that Phil could feel his weight. It always made him shiver when he did that and Technoblade couldn’t help but laugh. “You were still teaching me words, still some of this language I didn’t know. Covenant, you said when I asked. My covenant.” Technoblade’s words faded in the silence, focusing on his work. Where Technoblade was quiet during care, Phil wasn’t. Sure, he tried to hide the noises, bite down on groans and soft gasps as Technoblade preened him. It was after a particularly sharp hitch his breath that Technoblade tugged his hair back.

“Philza,” he crooned. Phil’s face was flushed, warm and soft and open. “You know I like hearing you.”

“It’s embarrassing, though,” he said with a huff.

“Bruh, it’s just you and me.”

“And Steve.”

“Steve is a polar bear. He has no concept of embarrassment.”

“Oh, you’re an expert on polar bears now?”

“Of course, I am. Have you seen how many polar bears we have?”

Phil laughed and Technoblade let his hair go, let him get comfortable again before he picked up the bone tool. As he worked over Phil’s wings, his friend let him hear all the soft little noises he knew Technoblade liked to hear. Most were real, he knew. There were some Phil just made because Technoblade asked him to be louder. He didn’t mind hearing the fake ones. It gave him something to listen to, something to help stimulate his brain while he worked. It wasn’t that Phil was boring or that he despised the task of preening. The noise helped him focus. Sometimes Phil would talk, or tell stories, but he really only did that when he had regular preening.

This time, though, it was obvious Phil hadn’t preened in a while. A week? Two? He told him once that he preferred Technoblade doing it over his own hands. When he asked why, Phil admitted he didn’t know.

“It’s… more intimate, I guess, when it’s you. No one else, either,” he had said.

“You let others near your wings?” Technoblade teased. Phil had flicked him in the face with the free wing and the piglin burst out laughing.

“Not often, and not just anyone,” Phil said when the laughter died down. Technoblade remembered him pulling his legs up to his chest, a far away look in his eyes. “Before she left, I’d let my wife do it. She liked to do it, in her own way. But it doesn’t feel the same, not like how it feels with you.”

“What happened to her, anyway? It’s been decades since I last saw her.” Phil was quiet for a long time, before he eventually answered his friend’s question.

“Her work keeps her busy. It’s been decades for me too. The last time was when…”

“Wilbur showed up?”

“Yeah.”

Technoblade’s ear twitched when Phil’s breath hitched. He focused back on Phil, turning the memory away. He was straightening a few feathers, the tool catching on one. He whispered an apology and refocused on his task. It felt good to take care of Phil, to take care of someone other than himself. He knew why he felt like this, of course. The word on his tongue so many times, too afraid to ask Phil if he would agree. Technoblade remembered the first night Phil let him preen him. It was a starry night and Technoblade remembered gazing up at the stars and realizing why.

Fated amongst the stars, they were. Technoblade was sure of it. He was sure.

But he wasn’t sure Phil felt the same. They were close, they acted like it, but Technoblade was afraid. Afraid that the second he spoke it into existence, it would vanish before his eyes. As he finished up taking care of his friend, he dropped his head in between Phil’s shoulders. They moved under his skull as Phil turned to look at him.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Technoblade answered as he sat back. Phil turned around to face him fully, pulling him into an embrace. “I’ll be alright. I’ll be alright.”

And he hoped, against whatever the universe told him, that if he spoke that into existence, it wouldn’t vanish before his eyes.

---

Ranboo strolled down the main path, keeping his ears open for more ghasts or the magma cubes that always jumped to their deaths. His ear twitched, picking up the sound of hoofsteps. He turned, scanning the area, when he saw a familiar piglin. He started to raise his hand in a wave, but something in Techno’s stance, in the way he held himself as he crossed over the netherrack made Ranboo pause. The piglin was tense, meandering, and the other piglins bolted from him even though he limped heavily. Ranboo glanced back to where he was going, back towards the path, and made a quick decision. He turned on his heel and hurried to catch up with Technoblade.

“Techno!” he called. “Technoblade!” He wasn’t too far back that he couldn’t see Techno’s ears, but they didn’t even twitch at the sound. Oh, oh that was NOT a good sign. He picked up his pace until he finally caught up. Techno still didn’t acknowledge his presence, not even when Ranboo did the wrong thing and came up from behind him in his blind spot. Ranboo caught sight of the glassy look in his eyes and felt his stomach drop out from under him. He readied a potion of weakness he carried on hand, in case Technoblade reacted badly (which he probably would). Ranboo grabbed Techno’s shoulder and pushed him back with all his strength. To his credit, Technoblade stumbled. In that moment, Ranboo put himself between Technoblade and his path, his shield ready to defend against any lashing out.

But instead of the normal response—uh oh—Technoblade blinked a couple times and shook his head. When he lifted his head, the glassy look was still there, but…

“Technoblade?” Ranboo ventured, lowering his shield. This time, the piglin’s ears flicked forward. Ranboo didn’t let himself relax, not yet. “Where are you going, Techno?”

“Home,” he replied softly. He shook his head again, a hand coming up to touch the scars in his cheek. Ranboo’s anxiety spiked with that answer. He couldn’t stop and message Phil and—why didn’t Phil know Techno was gone???

“Home? Techno, do you mean, uh, in the arctic biome?”

“Yeah,” he answered, though he sounded a little far away still. He took a step forward and Ranboo squared up, his shield back in front of his body. “Home.”

“You’re going the wrong way, Techno,” he said. Technoblade tried to take another step forward, but Ranboo pushed him back with the shield. “Techno,” he started again. “You’re going the wrong way. You’re going towards the community portal.” Horror slid into his veins like teardrops into his scars. “Back to L’Manberg. Back to the Egg.”

Of all things, that seemed to wake Technoblade up. The piglin tensed, another blink, and he looked up at Ranboo. There was, oh boy! There was now red twining around in the black sclera of his eyes. OH BOY. Ranboo exchanged his shield for an empty hand, hoping they could stop this peacefully.

“Let’s get you back, okay? Phil’s probably worried sick about you, Techno.” Ranboo offered. Technoblade eyed the hand. The hesitation before he took Ranboo’s hand had the half-enderman steeling himself. He was not the strongest one here and, if Technoblade decided that he’d much rather bolt the other direction, Ranboo wasn’t sure if he could stop him on his own. But Technoblade took the offer, his own hand grabbing onto Ranboo’s forearm. He returned the gesture and guided Technoblade away from the community portal.

Technoblade released Ranboo’s arm in time, his gaze dropped to the path beneath their feet. He walked just a little behind Ranboo, but Ranboo kept an eye on him, in case he did decide to run back. The red in his eyes eventually faded and Ranboo wondered if it was because of how close he got to the egg. Or because of whatever lingering effects still sat rooted in his mind. Ranboo could relate to that, to being unable to trust your own mind, your own thoughts. Ranboo was so focused on his own thoughts, jotting down notes in his memory book, that he almost missed Technoblade speaking. No, wait. He did actually miss that.

“Uh, sorry. Could you repeat that?” he asked with a sheepish smile, stuffing the memory book back into his inventory. Technoblade was always patient with his memory issues and never griped about him when he ‘spaced out’.

“I said,” he started again, soft and considering. “This must remind you of when you guys brought me back home.”

Ranboo stopped so quickly that Technoblade actually ran into him. Technoblade started to ask if he was okay, but Ranboo’s brain was already gone. The half-enderman whipped out his memory book again, flipping back to the night they found out where Technoblade had gone. He, he remembered that pretty well, right? Right???

And yeah, no, there it was right in front of him.

Techno taken by Ant and Bad? To the Egg

Gone for 3 days

Went with Phil and Puffy to get him back, but Phil sent me home to wait for Techno

Black shape in the sky???? Dream brought Techno home

“Uh,” he said, the memory book lowering. Technoblade was looking at him intently. Ranboo faltered in the face of such an intense expression. Technoblade's demeanor had changed like the wind and Ranboo did not like what that meant for him. Ranboo continued, since he was obviously waiting for him to finish. “We… we didn’t bring you home, though.” Technoblade’s mouth curved down into a frown. But then it brightened back into a smile. Ranboo didn’t know what was going on.

“Right, right. Not including you. Puffy and Phil did.”

Oh, Ranboo did NOT know what was going on.

“No?” That stopped Technoblade in his tracks. He leaned back, speaking very, very carefully.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Techno,” Ranboo said, glancing around for a moment to make sure no one else was around them. He shuffled closer, eyeing the tusks and the way his hands rested on his belt too casually to not be dangerous. He forged on. “Puffy didn’t come back with Phil. She stayed with Sam at the prison. Phil didn’t bring you home. Dream did.”

Technoblade stiffened. Then, as silent as the moon, he rose to his full height. Ranboo, still taller than him by a head, shrank in response. He chirped in Ender, his anxiety spiking even MORE now. Who told Techno that Phil and Puffy brought him back? Plus, hadn’t he been unconscious??? What was happening???

Ranboo didn’t get a chance to ponder that for long. Technoblade turned on his heel and strode towards the arctic portal, his cloak billowing out behind. If it could storm in the nether, Ranboo was sure he would have heard lightning cracking with each footstep. He followed him at a distance, afraid of what had made him so angry.

Ranboo watched Technoblade hurry to the house, his own steps in the gently drifting snow silent. At the door, Technoblade stopped, breathed in, and forced his shoulders to relax. He stepped into the house. Ranboo considered hovering outside the door, or watching from the windows, but he stopped himself. Phil was in there. He was going to talk to Phil. Ranboo scurried away into his own house, deciding it best to give the two some space. He pulled Enderchest into his lap and started petting her, the fur feeling nice under his shaking fingers.

“Phil?”

Philza turned to see Technoblade leaning in his doorway, arms crossed across his chest. The tension in his shoulders, the piercing gaze holding steady and unblinking, and the firm press of his lips caused Philza’s feathers to instinctually puff up to make him larger and scarier against the threat before him. Technoblade was not wearing the boar mask and Philza felt his gaze pin him in place. He breathed in and shuffled his wings, folded them back down, and held them tight against his back. This was Techno, his friend. He wouldn’t hurt him, no matter how angry he was.

“Yeah, mate?”

Technoblade clicked his tongue and pushed up out of the door. His hooves click-clicked across Philza’s floor until he stopped before him. Philza lifted his head, reminded how tall his friend was now that he was just… there. A voice in his head noted how he was basically baring his throat now and Philza took that thought and hid it away.

“You said,” Technoblade started casually and Philza felt his blood turn to ice by the tone. “That you and Puffy brought me home?”

So. He knew.

Philza held his friend's gaze. If he turned away now, if he didn't stand his ground, if he gave Techno any reason to doubt… then this all would fall apart. He saw it with Tommy. He saw it with Wilbur. He would not see it with himself. Philza pressed his lips together. Techno didn’t offer any more than just that question, but there was no need. Even now, even though he was caught in his lie, there would be no brushing this off. It was his mistake for waiting this long. It was his mistake for lying in the first place.

“Yes, I did,” he replied with a swallow that made his throat click.

“Why?”

Philza couldn’t help the shiver from the deep octave Technoblade’s voice dropped to. It spoke of danger, dripping venomous and deadly. It was not a tone Techno used with him, not since… Philza stowed away the thought. Techno tilted his head, waiting for a response. When Philza took too long, he growled and stalked back.

“Phil, you know I trust you to tell me the truth, right? You know I need you to tell me the truth! So why? Why did you lie?!” Technoblade roared. Philza heard the pain in that roar, the betrayal. And he couldn’t keep calm, because if he let Technoblade keep going like this, he wouldn’t get the chance to defend himself.

“Because I didn’t understand why!” His wings snapped open as he shouted back. “Because I still don’t understand why! Techno, do you think I wanted to? That I wanted to hurt you? I wanted to give myself time to think because—!” Philza’s voice stuttered, breathing quick between his words and his frustration. He paused, hunching his shoulders as he tried to keep his thoughts in line. “You hate him, but then he breaks out of prison to save you? D-do—How else do you expect me to process that!” Technoblade growled and stepped forward again, his gaze glaring down at him.

“That’s your reason? That’s your excuse? That you don't understand?” His exhale was a snarl. “Phil, why didn't you just talk to me instead of lying to my face?”

Philza's feathers now flared out, the full black wingspan like a night sky behind him. He was still shorter than Technoblade, but like hell he was backing down!

"Talk to you? Just talk to you?” Philza almost laughed. Instead, he straightened to his full height, and he felt the edges of the universe shimmer in his anger. “Like how you talk to me about everything? Like how you don’t hide shit from me? Technoblade, Dream told me you were hiding something. That there was something you never told me. Don't rag on me for lying if you're going to hide shit from me too!"

For the first time that night, Technoblade seemed to be at a loss for words. He pressed his lips together and looked away. The fact he didn't have an answer for that, that Philza had caught him in his own mistake sent the angel two steps forward, forcing Technoblade to either back up of his own accord or be pushed back.

"What exactly is your relationship with Dream?" Philza hissed.

"You-you wouldn't understand," Technoblade said as he took a step back. Philza’s eyes narrowed. The irony of that response was not lost on him.

"That's your reason?" He echoed coldly. "That's your excuse?" Philza took another step forward, folding his wings. Though he was smaller now, Technoblade backed up further. When he saw that Technoblade’s gaze was still looking away from him, Philza closed his eyes and breathed in. The darkness that had begun to seep forth faded back into nothingness as he forced himself to calm. When he opened his eyes again, he reached up to touch Techno’s cheek. He hesitated and that hurt Philza more than all the rage and pain. Then, finally, he leaned into the touch and Philza sighed.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked the universe. Neither it nor Technoblade answered, but that was alright. “I won’t lie to you, Techno, as long as you don’t hide things from me. And I refuse to let this be the thing that drives a wedge between us. Not a petty fight like this.” Technoblade was quiet, but Philza knew his friend enough that a big release of emotion was draining for him. He still held him there, turned his head to look at him. “Techno, I swear. I swear on my wings I won’t lie to you, but I still need you to talk to me. You know I do.” Technoblade shivered and Philza knew that look. He knew that expression deep in his old bones. He coaxed Techno back towards his house, so they could rest up against Steve. Once they were settled up against the bear, Philza tapped Techno.

“Techno, please. Help me understand. What is your relationship with Dream?” Philza watched his friend’s face, watched the worry and hesitation as they passed by until he gave in.

“He’s my… soulbleeder.”

“He’s—” Of all the things he expected Technoblade to say, that. That was. His confusion must have been plain on his face because Technoblade gestured pointedly with his hands. Philza focused again.

"See? I was right!" Techno said. He flopped back onto Steve, who growled softly in acknowledgement.

"Bruh, that's still not a reason to hide things!” He shoved Techno, not enough to harm, but enough to show his frustration. He huffed out a breath and asked, “What even is a soulbleeder?"

"Uh, it’s… This is going to be really hard to explain,” he said. Philza waited and Technoblade muttered, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He took a moment to compose himself, compose the words in his head. Philza was ever patient. He would wait as long as his friend needed.

“Soulbleeders are rivals. Arch-rivals. Your soulmate if they were your rival. Hating each other is the point, but, uh, like if Dream died, there’d-there’d be no point to the relationship. So, if one side is in trouble, then, if you’re trying to be a good soulbleeder, you’re going to go help them. Uh,” Techno glanced at Philza to see if he was still following, to which he nodded.

“So, it’s, it’s about being competitive. It’s about fighting each other, but not in a way that would actually screw them over.”

“So, like your duel with Dream?” Philza asked. He didn’t understand, fully, but. The way Techno was describing it, it… He could see it.

“Yeah, exactly. Sure, there was a reward at stake, but—you saw it. You watched it.”

And Philza did. He reviewed the memory of the duel in his head, what he remembered of their faces and their body language as they fought. It reminded him of the way Techno and him sparred: almost playful, but knowing their partner’s limits. But where Techno and Philza tended not to push those limits, those boundaries, not past what they knew they could handle, that duel… As it progressed, the playfulness gave way to true competition, pushing, pushing, pushing further and further. Pushing past the limits, past the boundaries, pushing and not accepting defeat until they were forced to. And even then, when Technoblade won, he offered his hand, offered a smile. No hard feelings, no sore losers. They were joking with each other afterwards, poking fun and grinning, and Philza remembered it as… strange.

He refocused on Technoblade, now that he was apparently done explaining. And… Philza exhaled and took his time to process. Techno had described it as a relationship. It had a term even. It was not something he could fathom experiencing himself, but. He could see it. And so, Dream was a good soulbleeder, coming to help Technoblade.

“I could hear him screaming.”

Dream’s voice came back to him then. Technoblade rarely screamed. Shouted, yelled, roared, but never screamed. So, if Dream was hearing that… Philza put himself in Dream’s place. Imagined himself trapped in prison and hearing a significant other screaming and—

Philza swallowed the sudden rage, the sudden need to do what he could to save Techno from such a fate—and he understood. He understood. His gaze flicked up to Techno and he huffed out a breath.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah, mate.”

“So, we’re… we’re good?”

“Yeah. We’re good.” Philza cupped Technoblade’s cheek and leaned in. They pressed their foreheads together and Philza finally allowed himself to relax. Like many things with Technoblade, this peace did not last long. About an hour into the chilling against Steve, Techno stiffened. Woken from his dozing, Philza nudged Techno instead of speaking.

“Phil,” Technoblade started. “Did—Dream broke out of prison that night?”

“Yeah, mate,” Philza yawned. He shifted so that he was laying on his stomach, his elbows in Techno’s lap.

“Did… do you know if anyone helped him?”

“All Puffy got from Sam was that Dream was gone. I don’t know if anyone helped him, though I’m gonna go with no.” Philza remembered how Dream looked: half human with wings still dark with netherite. A nightmare from the deepest pits of the Void.

“Phil. Phil, we gotta call Sam.” Techno said, bringing Philza’s focus back to his friend. He moved around in a way that was not trying to dislodge Phil, but still trying to get up. Philza leaned a bit more in his lap, trying to pin Technoblade before he worked himself up.

“Why? What’s going on, Techno?” Sleep still clung to his brain and he couldn’t follow why Techno was acting this way.

“No one visits Dream, not every day. If I was the last person to see him… Phil, Ph—I signed waivers that stated that if something happened after my visit—” Technoblade was still stumbling over his words, but Philza’s brain had finally caught up. Like Tommy, like anyone who visited the prison, Technoblade had signed his lives away if it was found that Dream escaped because of him. Phil scrambled to his feet, panic moving his limbs into motion. He grabbed his communicator, his ears tracking Technoblade as he hurried down the ladder, already going into preparation mode. Philza felt a sense of déjà vu, of breaths held as he watched Quackity and Tubbo and the rest of the Butcher Army hunting down his friend. Philza’s feathers flared on instinct and he swallowed down the urge to run. As the communicator connected to Sam, Technoblade appeared in Philza’s line of vision, Hiasobi Benihime in his hand as he offered the blade.

“Hello, Sam?” Philza greeted as he took the sword and hooked it back in his belt, where it belonged.

“Philza,” Sam greeted back. A bark could be heard over the communicator, followed by a soft shushing from Sam. Philza was thrown off for a moment, but he managed to compose himself before Sam grew suspicious.

“Sam, I know what happened with Dream,” he started. Sam went quiet on the other line, then exhaled in a sigh. Philza took that as a sign to continue. “How did he get out?”

“That is confidential information, Philza,” Sam replied after a moment of silence.

“Do you know who helped him escape?”

“Also, confidential.”

“Did he go back?” Sam didn’t respond and Philza couldn’t bite back the growl of frustration. “Sam, is there anything you can tell me?” The silence stretched until Philza’s impatience neared its peak. He opened his mouth to snarl at Sam, but a hand came down on his shoulder. He stiffened and glanced behind him. Technoblade stood steady, donned in full netherite and the skull mask covering his expression. But Philza knew what would be under there, knew that when Technoblade’s hand squeezed his shoulder, it was in comfort and reassurance. Philza breathed out slowly and his wings smoothed down and folded against his back. Sam’s voice crackled in his ear when he responded finally.

“Puffy and I completed our investigation into Dream’s escape. We confirmed our conclusions and—” Sam cut off momentarily, before continuing with “We are not coming for Technoblade.”

Philza blinked, stunned into silence from Sam’s response. His eyes fell shut and his shoulders relaxed. Of course, Sam would know what he was really asking. Sam was smart. He had to be smart, for the things he did.

“We had suspicions, of course,” Sam said. “But after we completed our investigation, we dropped our charges against Technoblade. We know he did not help Dream escape.”

“Thank you,” Philza replied. The line cut out and he pressed his hands to his face in a sigh. Technoblade put gentle pressure on Philza’s shoulder and he went. Techno guided him into his arms and hugged him. The armor, while hard and an uncomfortable line against his body, was grounding and comforting. He tucked himself in, his stress melting away like iron in lava. Techno’s hand brushed through his feathers and Philza couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body.

“Phil?” Techno asked softly. “Can I preen you?”

And Philza.

Philza nodded.

They would be okay. If it was the last thing Philza was ever able to do, he would make sure they were okay.

---

Being okay was going to be a lot harder than Philza expected.

Ranboo’s shield shattered under the force of Technoblade’s sword. His mouth opened in a snarl, his tusks flashing as he launched forward. Ranboo tried to block with his own sword, but the angle was wrong and he screamed in pain as the sword broke through his armor as well. The smoke from the splashed potions blew away, giving Philza a clear shot. An Angel of Death, he might be, but not today. Not when his arrow was aimed at his friend. The arrow whizzed through the air, struck Technoblade in the arm. He barely even winced, even as the weakness arrow took effect.

“Ranboo, run!” Philza shouted, dropping from his perch on the half-finished house. He darted forward, his own shield and sword at the ready. Ranboo glanced between Technoblade and Philza and bolted.

“I’ll kill you, Quackity!” Technoblade roared, lurching after him. Philza was faster. He slammed his shield into his friend, throwing him off balance. Technoblade spun on his heel, kicking up loose snow, turned on Philza. Red pulsed in his eyes, the scars glowing brightly. Philza didn’t know what triggered it, what triggered the episode. A few minutes ago, Technoblade and Ranboo were sparring while Philza worked on his house. It sounded like Ranboo got a hit on him; by the cut across Technoblade’s mouth, just under the mask, it was definitely a hit. Technoblade had stumbled back, his hand pressed to his skull. Philza couldn’t hear what he said, but when he heard the snarl, he hurried to the edge of the roof. The shout of “I choose blood!” sent a chill up Philza’s spine.

He had heard that line before, had seen the potions splash on the ground and the smoke rise up before Technoblade had launched himself at Quackity and the rest of the Butcher Army. Now, Philza saw nothing in Technoblade’s eyes but hatred and bloodthirst. He didn’t even look at Philza, didn’t even recognize that he was holding him back.

“They’ve got Carl!” he yelled. Philza shoved him back with the shield again.

“Technoblade! It’s not them! Carl’s here! Wake up!”

Technoblade snarled and Philza put all his weight into the shield again. The piglin stumbled back and Philza readied himself for a fight against his friend. But Technoblade dropped his sword, his hands pressing to his skull. He dropped to a knee, panting and muttering too fast for Philza to follow. Philza waited, waited for his friend to wake up, to see that he wasn’t in danger. To see it was just them. He didn’t want to hurt him. What they had to do already felt like he was stabbing a knife into his chest.

“Technoblade!” Philza cried out, his voice cracking on the name. Technoblade stopped muttering, curling in on himself. Then

Then he dragged himself to his feet, his hand coming up to brush the hair out of his face. He laughed and Philza felt dread take hold of his heart. The vines were growing again, burrowing into his flesh. Philza’s gaze flickered down when Technoblade pulled out his pickaxe. No…

“Did you really think, Quackity, that you could kill me that easily?”

Philza felt the world drop out from under his feet. That Technoblade didn’t recognize him, it—it was too much to handle. Technoblade snarled and lurched towards him.

“I’ve got a pickaxe and I’ll put it through your TEETH!”

Philza jumped back, barely missing the pickaxe strike. Fuck, fuck, no, he couldn’t—!

“Philza! Get back!” Ranboo’s voice cut through the air. The angel jumped back and a potion crashed down on Technoblade. A pearl hit the ground and Ranboo teleported between him and Technoblade. Double weakened, Technoblade snarled at them. Philza stumbled forward, reaching to grab Ranboo and pull him away, but—

Ranboo stood his ground, staring at Technoblade, an axe in his hand, his trident in the other. The two of them stood staring at each other for what felt like an eternity before Ranboo tossed aside his axe. He held out his hand and waited. Technoblade blinked, shook his head, and looked down at the hand. Philza held his breath, hoping against hope that whatever Ranboo was trying to do here would work.

Within the time it took Philza to blink, two things happened. Technoblade lurched forward with a roar and knocked Ranboo aside. The kid skidded in the snow out of Philza’s view. Then Techno’s hand grabbed the front of Philza's coat and slammed him back against the wall of the house. He growled at Philza, not a hint of recognition in his eyes as he readied his pickaxe. Philza's wings flared against the stone, beating up snow between them as if to blind Technoblade. It wasn't working. He eyed the pickaxe, panting as he quickly got over his shock. With a glance at Techno, he muttered a small apology.

Philza's legs kicked out. One hit Techno square in the stomach and the other swung up over the arm. With the help of his wings, he twisted out of the grip, his shirt tearing. Technoblade cried out in pain, his arm bending wrong and the pickaxe dropped from his hand. The arm didn't snap, but the lapse allowed Philza to dart behind and pin the piglin's arm behind him. A beat of his wings and Philza slammed him into the snow. He pinned Techno by the arms. With how his legs were kicking, he would flip their position soon. He kicked away the pickaxe too, then struggled to hold his friend down as Technoblade kicked. Fuck, fuck! Phil pressed down as he risked moving one of his hands. Down the spine, where, where! Once he found the pressure point, he hit it and Techno's legs stilled. Technoblade still tried to buck him off. Philza used a powerful beat of his wings, forcing his friend down into the snow.

"Ranboo!" he shouted, swinging his head towards the kid. He scrambled to his feet, looking no worse for wear. "Fourth chest down, bottom left, sleeping potion, now!" He ordered. Ranboo jumped, then bolted into the house to find the potion. Technoblade was still struggling underneath Philza, but it was easier to hold him down. Ranboo stumbled out the door in his haste, holding the potion and staring down at the pair.

Philza shifted his position, letting Techno’s head up from where he pushed it into the snow. He snarled and Philza took that chance to stick his arm into Techno’s mouth. The thick leather bracer would protect his arm from the tear cutting through, but if Technoblade tried to bite with all his strength… He wedged his arm in, forcing Techno’s mouth open too wide to bite. His head snapped up to Ranboo, who was still just standing there.

“Well, what are you waiting for?! Pour it in!”

Ranboo startled, nearly dropping the potion. But he dropped to his knees and fumbled with the cork. Half the potion splashed on the ground, but he managed to get some into Techno’s mouth. Reflexively, he swallowed the remaining potion. Slowly, ever so slowly, Technoblade’s body ceased its struggling and he went limp. Finally, Philza relaxed, heaving a heavy sigh. He slid off Techno’s back, then rolled him over so he wouldn’t suffocate, and then turned his head so he wouldn’t choke. Philza gazed down at his friend and caressed his cheek.

“Is. Is he going to be okay?” Ranboo asked, still kneeling.

“Yeah. That potion should last for an hour or so. We should get him into the house.” He tapped his knee, frowning. “I think. It would be a good idea to remove his armor too. And his weapons. And keep him away from any potions. He’s. Right now, he’s a danger to himself and to others.” His gaze flicked up to Ranboo, who was writing in his journal.

“I agree,” Ranboo said as he slowly closed his journal. “We could hide them in my basement? I, uh,” he hugged the journal to the front of his coat. “I’ve been working on a—“

“That’s not necessary,” Philza dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I have a vault of my own we can keep them in. Plus, I mean to move all of that stuff over. I don’t want to take up all your space with ours.” Philza stood to his feet, checking over the brace on his arm. It had some holes where Techno’s teeth tore into it, but not through. He started to take it off, then flinched. Ranboo stood up, hands held out to help or hold or… something.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. “See?” He wiggled his fingers and picked up the axe from the snow. Ranboo didn’t look convinced, especially with the badly hidden wince at the weight of the axe on his arm. But Ranboo kept quiet. “Help me move stuff into my vault?”

It took them two hours to move everything over. Philza threatened Ranboo with a canon life if he ever showed anyone his vault, to which he completely agreed. Philza didn’t want to freak the kid out, but he’d had enough with people rummaging through his stuff. He refused to let anyone do that again. Techno was awake on the couch when he finally turned in, rubbing gently at his arm. Philza startled, his wings flaring, to see his friend wide awake and staring at him. But the feathers smoothed down. The man before him was awake and whole, not a hint of the egg’s taint on him. Exhaustion hit Philza like a roof of gravel knocked loose. He was tired. He was so tired.

Technoblade stood from the couch and stepped over. Silently, he reached out for Phil’s arm. Philza hesitated, but eventually offered it over. Phil’s arm, where the brace had protected it from piercing, did not protect it from the weight of Technoblade’s jaws struggling against him. Bruises covered the flesh like oil on a painting, deep purple like the fading sun at dusk. Pain seeped through Technoblade’s chest, squeezing his heart. How could he have done this to Phil? To his… To his friend? How could he let this happen???

In a move akin to worship, or to accepting execution, Technoblade knelt before Philza. He held Philza’s arm gently in his hands and pressed a line of kisses down from the crook of his elbow to his palm. Phil’s other hand came to his hair, carding through. He guided Techno’s head up to looking at him, the softest melancholy Technoblade had ever seen on his face.

“It wasn’t your fault, Techno,” he said, quiet enough to be a whisper. Technoblade pressed his forehead to the palm of Phil’s hand. The angel above him sighed, then resumed petting him. “I forgive you.”

After the Butcher Army incident, as he started calling it, Philza limited what Technoblade could do. He explained it to his friend, explained that he didn’t want to limit his free will like this, should he get the wrong idea, but he didn’t want to risk anyone else’s safety. If it had gone any other way, Techno could have killed Ranboo. He was certainly fighting like he wanted to kill him. And Philza knew what kind of regret would cling to his bones, to his soul if he had taken a life undeserved. Philza knew intimately what that felt like. He would not wish it on his best friend.

And so Technoblade agreed. Philza took away his armor and his weapons. They had already moved the potions. Philza didn’t tell Techno where he put them. It hurt him to hide things from Technoblade, but it was necessary. They couldn’t have another incident. They could not.

Philza felt hyperaware, always paying attention to Techno and how he reacted to things. He didn’t know what triggers Technoblade had now, what would set him off and what didn’t matter. The worst of it was that Techno refused to talk to him about it. Philza asked, Philza pressed and pried and he tried, but Techno snapped his jaw shut so fast his teeth clicked together and refused.

His nerves felt stretched, tense like tripwire, and exhaustion quickly lined his shoulders. Several nights now he found himself at his table, staring into middle distance, thinking and not thinking until eventually he dragged himself to bed.

---

The axe came down, splintering the log in half. Technoblade straightened with a groan, looking down at his work. Phil just recently trusted him with the axe. Not his armor though, and he had to return to the house the second he saw the sun begin to set. But it was nice, nice to be outside for once. The air was cold, crisp, and barely a hint of wind blowing that would cut through his coat. He leaned back until his spine cracked, then reached down to pick up another log. The sight of two legs in his vision nearby startled him. He straightened, his gaze traveling up to see, of all people, Tommy standing before him. The second Technoblade’s gaze fell on him, Tommy looked away. He hugged his coat close to him, the same one Technoblade had stitched for him when he finally accepted Tommy would be staying with him. He still had the turtle helmet resting on his head and Technoblade felt something sharp and longing break inside his chest.

“What are you doing here, Tommy?” Technoblade asked, hefting the axe onto his shoulder. He glanced at the sky, checking the time, then back to the kid. When Tommy hesitated, he narrowed his eyes. This was a side of Tommy no one had seen. Well, maybe Tubbo. And him, back before his betrayal pierced through his ribs. The seconds stretched into minutes as Tommy searched for words. Finally, he straightened and turned his gaze back to Technoblade. He found himself strangely pinned by the gaze.

“I heard about what happened with you and the egg,” he said. His gaze dropped again to look at some snow, kicking it around. Technoblade shifted his stance and Tommy glanced up immediately at the movement. Good; the kid still knew to be wary even against an unarmored foe. As long as he held an axe, he could be the most dangerous thing in the world. When it was clear no threat was coming, Tommy continued, picking at the fuzz on his coat. “The first time Tubbo met it, he started crying. I joked around and said it was saying slurs, you know, as I do.” He cracked a smile at Technoblade, who returned it with a truly unimpressed stare. He pressed his lips together as his shoulders hunched.

“I don’t know what it told you, but… I…” he trailed off. Technoblade closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to relive exactly what the egg showed him. Visions of it dragging him down, of handing his weapons, of his friends bleeding out and feeding them to the Egg. He inhaled, his breath shaking against his will.

“If you need someone, Techno, I’m here,” Tommy said, promised. The words made Techno’s heart ache and the betrayal in his ribs pierced deeper. He bared his teeth as his fury ignited and he stomped forward with a snarl.

“You’re here? Now? What about back at the community house? Were you there for me then?” Tommy opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but Technoblade overruled him. “I was there for you! I would have fought them all for you, Tommy!” His eyes stung and he blinked back tears. Not here, not now. Not while light still fell upon them. His tusks flashed in the light as he snarled, “Why did you betray me?!”

“Betray you?” Tommy spat. “Why? You sided with Dream! You and him blew up L’Manberg! If anyone betrayed anyone, you betrayed me! You betrayed us!” Technoblade’s fury quieted, burned inside him as he leveled his glare with the kid. His voice dropped low when he spoke next, barely steady as the axe shook in his hands.

“Tommy. I was always planning to blow up L’Manberg. For what it did to me, to what its people did to me. That injustice was not going to go unpunished, Tommy. I didn’t betray you. Do-do you remember how many withers I have? Tommy, I showed you the vault!” He stepped forward, brandishing the axe. “How many withers did I spawn, Tommy?” Tommy looked away, holding his answer tight behind his lips.

“How many!” Technoblade roared. “I showed you mercy! Dream wanted to blow it to bedrock. I just wanted it to be enough that my message came across. Dream laid the TNT. I spawned the withers. Do you know how many more I can spawn, Tommy? I could wipe out everyone if I wanted to! And I showed you mercy!”

"Mercy?" Tommy's voice was cold, not unlike the ice that encased the landscape when the temperature plummeted. It sounded just as deadly. "Is that what you call it? Mercy? I can’t… You're more lost than I realized, Techno, if you believe what you did was merciful." Technoblade's axe lowered. This… this was not how Tommy behaved. Not…

"I tried to save you!" Tommy yelled, snapping Technoblade from his thoughts. "Big man, walking into hell thinking that you'll just walk out again! I saw Wilbur do that! I watched Wilbur walk into hell and when he came back, he wasn't the same!"

Memories sparked through Technoblade's head, like flint striking before his eyes. When Wilbur was young, his flair for dramatics, his desire to explore. The day when Wilbur met Tommy and he joined their little group. The tournament they won together. The smiles on their faces. And he saw Wilbur's smile as he slowly descended into madness. Technoblade breathed and dragged himself out of those thoughts before he relived the betrayals that followed after like shadows.

"I tried to save you from that fate!" Tommy shouted, his voice hoarse from the pitch of his screams. Tears rolled down freely as he squeezed his hands into fists and shook.

"I didn't need saving!" Technoblade snarled. "Unlike Wilbur, I know where I stand. I know what I can handle. There's nothing I can't survive!"

"You're not invincible, Techno! What about the Egg, huh? Was that surviving?"

"I'm here right now, aren't I?"

"Are you?"

Technoblade blinked, the mood suddenly shifting. Words were hard to force out, with how it felt like something was wrapping around his throat. "W-what?"

"Are you? Here. Right now. Technoblade."

Technoblade reached up to his throat, but he found no vines curling, nothing choking him, yet he still felt its presence pressing into his mind. He squeezed the handle of the axe, the wood biting into his palm. It was enough to ground him. Just barely. He straightened to his full height, his eyes burning at Tommy.

"Leave," he ordered through bared teeth. When Tommy didn't move, he stepped forward and raised the axe at him. "Now. Before I take your life for trespassing, LEAVE!"

Tommy glared up at Technoblade and didn't budge. Technoblade lifted the axe to make due on his word. He wasn't going back on it now, not even for Tommy, not even if the kid didn't deserve it. Not for the pain squeezing his heart, burying itself into his soul. He would stand true to his word, even if that word would kill him. A sharp gust of winter wind slammed into him. Technoblade slid back with the force of it, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt ice slice through his will, through his strength, through his flesh. When the wind finally died down, he opened his eyes.

Tommy was gone.

Technoblade huffed and picked up the next log to chop down. A soft landing in the snow alerted him, the whisper of wings folding telling him it was Phil. Technoblade swung the axe down, the chop and breaking of wood soothing to the thunder still roaring in his ears.

“Hey mate? You okay?” Phil asked, resting his hand on Technoblade’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Technoblade grunted. “Tommy showed up.” explained, not looking at his friend. Phil’s grip tightened on his shoulder. He assumed it was reassurance. “We had an argument and, er, I threatened him with an axe?”

“Techno…” Phil started. Technoblade frowned at his tone. It was the one he used when he came home too late in the day, the sunset still warming his back. Or the nights he woke up and just. Didn’t go back to sleep. He rolled his shoulders and Phil’s hand fell off it with the motion.

“Nothing happened, don’t worry. I wouldn’t kill the kid. I promise.”

“Techno,” Phil said again. His hand came up on his shoulder again, but this time he pulled, forcing him to turn. Technoblade lifted his gaze to Phil’s face, startling at the open concern. “Techno, I was watching from the window. There was no one here.” Silence followed after; all save for an icy wind chasing after a crow made of void.

#dream smp #dream smp fic #technoblade #philza #ranboo #mystuff #this fic took a long time to write #and i'm still not done with it lol #long post #mind the content warning #hurt comfort fic #this chapter is 12k words #nothing i write anymore can be short i guess

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