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saucy-sassy-sparkly · 2 years

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Moments: One

Note: It's here (and about an hour later than I expected to get it up... my toddler did NOT want to go to bed)!

I'm so excited for this little story; it'll likely be 6 parts total, but I have 4 drafted now. I have a general timeline, some of the pictures I use won't be accurate, I'll get things wrong, and I'll omit things that should've been part of the narrative. I hope you can just embrace some fiction and enjoy it with me.

Reader is female, but I've tried to keep her description as vague and I'm trying to be sure to use a variety of types of women in the picture inserts.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Word Count: ~5.5k

Please leave me some feedback, I'd love your thoughts! Happy Thursday!

Moment's Masterlist

One 1997: Killington Ski Resort

They say that you encounter your soulmate three times before you meet them. It may be a short conversation while waiting for a sandwich at a deli down the street. Or perhaps it is as children, playing in a hotel pool on a “once-in-a-lifetime vacation”. It may be a blind date gone horribly wrong, only to have the evening salvaged by a stranger at a bar.

In other instances, the encounters involve no contact: passing strangers on a sidewalk, concert goers in the same row, children at the same playground, and passengers on a train platform.

For some people, those moments are spaced a lifetime apart. For others, mere hours. And for some lonely folks, the introduction never happens; they’re never introduced, they never take the risk, or their circumstances don’t allow for the universe to do its job and put these two souls together.

Those three moments, be they brief moments or a whole evening, can link a couple together forever.

When the sun was up, it had been a balmy 29 degrees today, but now that the sun was quickly dipping below the mountain, the wind picked up and the temperatures were dropping. Chris pulled his goggles off his head and waited for Scott to get to the bottom of the trail. It was Scott’s first outing on a snowboard and it was taking all of Chris’s energy to be a good, supportive coach. In reality, Chris wanted to take off and leave him behind; he could’ve done at least twice as many runs if he hadn’t been waiting on Scott all day.

He saw his dad outside the lodge waving him over and got to him just as Scott appeared over the last ridge. “You guys want to do one more?”

Chris nodded, “I do, I’m not sure what Scott’ll want, but can I go one more time?”

“Sure, we’re going to head back on the shuttle. I expect you both back at the condo in the next 45 minutes.”

Chris agreed and watched his dad and sisters shuffle towards the shuttle that would take them back to the condos. He turned and saw Scott scooting towards him and couldn’t help but laugh. “One more run?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve finally got it.”

Rolling his eyes, he dragged Scott to the lift line. With the sun almost entirely gone now, the line was much shorter than it had been all day. It was the Saturday of President’s Day weekend; an annual tradition for the Evans crew to hit the slopes for the weekend, but they always knew going into it that it would be a crowded weekend with long lines. It didn’t matter though, Chris just loved being outside. At 16, he was also invincible and full of energy. He’d stay out here all day if his parents would let him.

In line, he mostly ignored Scott babbling about what dinner might be waiting for them at the condo; he was too focused on trying to see the girl in front of them. She was around his age, with long hair poking out from under her helmet. Her pink ski jacket and black snow pants left more than a lot to his imagination but with his “sexually active” card newly stamped, girls were just about all he could think about. Her laugh had caught his attention when they got into line; she was giggling at a joke the older man with her had made and since then, Chris hadn’t torn his eyes away from her. He watched the way she threw her head back to laugh loudly, he watched the way she was constantly moving, checking out her surroundings, pointing things out to the man with her; she talked with her hands and Chris found himself straining to try to hear her conversation.

“Chris?” Scott shoved him, making him slide a few feet forward and bump into the man in front of him.

“Sorry,” Chris muttered when both he and the girl turned around. The girl smiled shyly while the man eyed the boys; Chris shot a glare at Scott.

Scott mumbled his own apology and they both turned back around just as Chris punched Scott in the arm, “asshole.”

“I said I was sorry!” Scott yelped, rubbing his arm, “You weren’t paying attention to me, you were just staring at her!”

“SCOTT!” Chris groaned through gritted teeth, glancing to see if she’d heard.

She had. Damn it. She was glancing over her shoulder at the brothers, hiding a smile and blushing in the most adorable way Chris had ever seen. He gave her an embarrassed wave while he felt himself turning red. The second she turned back around, he punched Scott again.

“Ow,” Scott whined, rubbing his arm again. Chris ignored him and returned his mission to staring at the back of her head and hoping that his powers of telekinesis were finally working and he could get her to look at him again.

Up until that moment, when she found out the cute boy behind her was staring at her, all Y/N could think about was how annoyed she was that her cousins and parents had bailed on her and left her with Uncle Chuck. Not that he was bad, he was actually super fun and she had to admit, she was having a good time joking with him. Y/N was the youngest of the cousins but the best skier. She was also the most empathetic. Chuck’s wife had asked for a separation just days before the annual Y/L/N ski trip so he was here with his two teenagers who just wanted to try to steal from the mini bar and try to get drunk without the adults noticing. Chuck was taking his angst out on the slopes and for a while, Y/N hadn’t minded. But now that everyone else was back in the lodge, showered, and probably eating, she couldn’t help but pout.

But here she was, in line at the lift, listening to the boys behind her bicker and trying to keep things light for her uncle. They’d been joking about her dad, Chuck’s brother, for a while– he was an easy target with his bad dad jokes and weird obsession with restaurants that offered more than one style of BBQ sauce. When one of the boys had jostled Chuck, he whipped his head around looking more intimidating than he was. At 6’5”, her uncle’s lumberjack appearance was all show. He was just a teddy bear, but these boys didn’t know that. She was sure he looked terrifying.

Chuck had shot them both a glare and turned back to the front of the line while she kept glancing over her shoulder. The boys were both cute, probably somewhere around her age, maybe a little older. The taller one– the one who’d bumped into Chuck– had been blatantly staring at her during this interaction. She knew she was blushing, but she didn’t care. She liked his attention.

She was still getting used to attention like this. In middle school, she’d been in the smart classes but was always afraid to raise her hand in class. She liked getting lost in a book as much as she liked getting outside and moving. Her body was in constant motion, even when she was reading she was tapping her foot, fidgeting with her hair, or twisting her ring around her finger over and over again. She had her small group of friends who stayed to themselves and had the same Friday every week: Blockbuster, ice cream, and sleepovers.

But now that she was in high school, Y/N was a good little basketball player– good enough to have schools already interested in her as a freshman– and somewhere between the first day of high school and now, she’d noticed boys… and sometimes girls… staring at her. Groups of people she hardly knew came to her basketball games and waited to talk to her after. She was the only freshman on the varsity team and was already a starter; the older girls on the team had taken to her fairly quickly and adopted her into their groups of friends. She wasn’t sure what to do with the attention, but she knew she liked getting it from this cute boy behind her.

Y/N and Chuck boarded the lift, the brothers behind them still squabbling as she and Chuck left the platform. Y/N pulled her gaiter up around her nose and ears to protect her from the rush of cold air on the lift. They rode in silence, both of them lost in thought and at the top of the mountain, they disembarked and headed towards The Jug– both of their favorite trails.

Uncle Chuck slowed, clicking his boot out, “You go ahead, I’ll meet you in the lodge. My sock is all bunched up.”

Y/N nodded and took off, enjoying a moment to herself. She’d been with her brothers, her cousins, or her uncle all day. Everyone wanted to parallel ski or talk on the lift. It was kind of nice to have a minute alone to enjoy the sunset over the mountain. She was in no particular rush, staying off to the side and thinking that Uncle Chuck might catch up to her.

Not far behind her, Chris and Scott were disembarking the lift, headed in the same direction.

“I’ve got this,” Scott assured Chris, “I can do The Jug.”

“Scott, it's a black trail, are you sure? You’re still new.”

Scott was emphatic, “absolutely, I’ve definitely got the hang of it now. This is our last one tonight; tomorrow will be too crowded again. Let’s go!”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m positive!” Scott whooshed by Chris to the top of the path and around a turn. Chris trailed him, keeping a close eye on him. He watched as Scott took the start of the trail smoothly, crisply moving around a group. He was about 100 yards ahead of Chris and the mountain was getting steep quickly.

“Slow down, Scott!” Chris called, leaning in to pick up speed to be ready to help, “Scott!”

“I’m fine,” Scott yelled over his shoulder, half turning to find Chris. It was in that half turn that he started to wobble. He found his balance fairly quickly but was also picking up speed.

“Scott!” Chris yelled again, moving between people. Scott was starting to flail and struggle to regain control. Chris could see Scott pointed towards the edge of the trail and the woods; he knew that he’d told his brother to drop on his ass if he was out of control, but Scott wasn’t dropping. Chris also couldn’t see the pink ski jacket he’d been staring at was directly in Scott’s path.

“LOOK OUT!” He heard his brother yell; Scott was now leaning backward, trying to fall on his butt but clearly nervous about the impact. It was then that Chris could see her. Panic coursed through him. This was going to be his fault. He’d taught Scott to snowboard, he’d let him go on this difficult slope, he’d gotten lazy and tired of being in charge of Scott so he’d let him go ahead, and now he was going to be the reason she got hurt. Chris started yelling too as he willed himself to pick up more speed.

Her head turned too late; a snowboarder was plowing down the mountain right towards her. Her brain didn’t work fast enough; he was flailing and yelling, trying to slow himself down the steep incline. He dropped to his butt just feet in front of her, “Ohmygodohmygodohmyoooodddddd,” he yelled when he collided with her. He took her out by the ankles, she felt pain slice up her leg as she landed directly on top of him; they slid a few more feet, thankfully going slower due to all of the things they were dragging through the snow, and his snowboard took the impact of a tree at the edge of the trail. They bounced slightly, both of them jostled and tangled.

“Oh fuck, oh my god, oh shit, are you okay? I’m so sorry. Oh god,” it was one of the brothers from the lift line; he kept pushing at her, trying to get them untangled. He kept repeating, “I’m so sorry, I’ve never snowboarded before.” If it wasn’t so painful, it would’ve been funny: they were a pile of neon fleece and polyester unable to fully move their limbs because of the thickness of their snow clothes. Every time one of them moved, it shoved the other, so every time one of them successfully untangled one part of their clump, another thing got stuck together.

“Hold on,” she muttered to him, unable to get up to unclip her boots and therefore unable to get to her feet, “I can’t reach my boots.”

“Here, let me see if I can,” he said, trying to reach around her; she yelped and he immediately stopped. “Oh god, are you hurt?”

Before Y/N could answer she heard, “Scott, you idiot,” the other brother called as he came to a stop beside them. He immediately reached down and unclipped her boots from her skis before offering her a hand, “are you okay?” he asked as he pulled her to her feet and held her shoulders as she tried to regain her balance. She was about to nod when she finally got her feet under her and pain shot through her ankle as it gave out. “Shit,” he said, grabbing her by the waist and holding her. “What’s wrong?”

“It's my ankle. I’m sure it’s fine,” she waved him off before she tried to pull away from him to stand on her own. She winced again and slumped again, his arm quickly tightening around her.

“Way to go, Scott,” he snapped at his brother, who was still now on his knees and trying to stand. “Take her skis,” he said to his brother before turning to her, “I’ll get you down the mountain.”

“What?” Y/N asked and shook her head, “no, I’m fine, I can get down.”

He paused and dropped his head so he could make eye contact with her, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she replied, watching his blue eyes as a smile crept on his face.

“Well, Y/N, I’m Chris. The asshole who tried to kill you is my brother Scott. I’d really like it if you let me take you to the bottom of the mountain and get you checked out with the medics.”

“Seriously, I’m fine, I can just walk down or something,” she waved him off again and started to pull away from him, “thank you though.”

Scott piped up, now standing again next to her and holding her skis and poles, “please? I don’t want you to get more injured. Who are you here with? I can go get them and bring them to you. Or I can get a ski patrol.”

“Or,” Chris offered, “I can put you on my board and have you at the bottom of the mountain safely in no time. I promise you won’t get hurt with me. Do you trust me?” He held out his hand.

Y/N giggled, “Did you just quote Aladdin?”

Even in the fading light, she could see his blush, “maybe.”

“Fine.”

“Really? That worked?” She couldn't help noticing how genuinely surprised he seemed.

“Get me to the bottom safely, please,” Y/N gingerly stepped her good foot onto his snowboard and let him take her weight against him as he pulled her the rest of the way. It took them a minute to get into a comfortable position with her back against him; she was so much shorter he could see over her head easily. He tightened his grip on her, trying to calm his nerves. He’d promised to get her down safely, and now he had to deliver. He took off carefully, holding her waist to keep the weight off her leg and moving them very slowly down the side of the trail. His legs burned from the effort of keeping them slow, holding her upright, and trying to appear much more cavalier than he felt. It took far longer than normal to reach the bottom, and every bounce pushed them into each other making them both tense. By the time they were at the bottom, they were both flustered and blushing from the proximity.

When he was unattached from his snowboard, he turned to her, “why don’t you get on my back. I’ll take you to the first aid station.”

Y/N hesitated. It was one thing to be pressed up against him for the sake of getting to the bottom of the mountain. It was another to climb up on his back, in public, and parade through the lodge. “No, no, no, I can walk.”

He already had his back to her, reaching his arms around behind him. He looked over his shoulder, “we made it this far, let’s get all the way to the finish.”

Y/N was glad his back was to her because she was blushing furiously. She could hardly breathe. His arms around her waist the whole way down, his breath in her ear, his chest in her back… she’d been overwhelmed by his closeness and his touch. He had to be at least 16, a few years older than her, with the most adorable smile she’d ever seen and the brightest blue eyes. This sweet gesture was the most romantic thing she’d ever experienced and she had no idea how to act. She was trying not to let him see how nervous he made her.

He was still waiting for her, his back to her with his arms outstretched, and she heard him call her name softly. She nodded and reached for him while he bent down and she put her arms around his neck. “On three,” he said, leaning down further, “one… two…”

“Three,” Chris said, wrapping his fingers around her thighs as she hopped onto his back. He was sweating profusely from the exertion of a day on the slopes and now from having a cute girl pressed up against him for the last 15 minutes. It was impossible not to notice her little dimples or her blushes every time he made eye contact with her.

Thank God Scott can’t snowboard… Chris didn’t want her to be hurt, but he was excited for a chance to spend a few minutes away from his dumbass brother while he helped Y/N.

“Here we go!” Chris started to gallop into the lodge towards the first aid station.

Oh my God… I started to gallop… like a horse… shit. Chris thought to himself. This is so embarrassing. Oh, God. Oh, but she’s giggling. Okay, I guess I’m galloping now…

The first aid station was at the back of the lodge; he got her there and held tightly onto her legs, not allowing her to slide down his back, “I’m not putting you down until you’re with a medical professional. You’re not walking around on that ankle.”

“Chris,” she meant to whine but hearing her say his name like that made Chris’s heart thump harder.

“I’m serious, Y/N. Not until you’re with someone.”

She huffed a sigh but dropped her chin on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was on the brink of melting into the floor from the overstimulation of cuteness she radiated or if he was grateful for the many layers of protection his snow suit provided from anyone seeing his growing hard-on.

They got her checked in and Chis finally let her slide off his back and onto a cot, but he sat down next to her. “Thanks,” she said quietly, catching his eye and giving him another delicious blush. He noticed she was a little teary-eyed; she must’ve been in more pain than she let on.

“How are you feeling?”

Y/N shrugged, “not great, I’m hoping it isn’t broken.”

“That would suck,” Chris agreed, trying and failing to think of anything to say to her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with a joke or anything remotely witty. He thought about reaching out to take her hand, but his own were sweating too much. He settled for nervously rubbing his hands along his thighs and glancing back at her. She averted her eyes quickly and they both nervously giggled.

“You really don’t have to stay with me,” she forced herself to make eye contact with him. Out loud, she’d told him to go, but in her head, she prayed he’d stay next to her a little longer. His presence made her feel comfortable.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“NO!” she answered too quickly and recalibrated, “no, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to stay. I’ll be okay. Is Scott okay?”

Chris turned his body to face her squarely, “I’m happy right where I am. Scott is fine.”

“Okay,” she whispered, twisting her hands in her lap and willing herself to say more. God, she was so nervous. The way he looked at her made her pulse race. For as much as her ankle hurt, all she could think about was how dry her mouth was and how much she hoped he’d hold her hand, put his arm around her, or do anything to initiate contact again.

“So, uh,” Chris tapped his fingers on his legs, trying to channel his nervous energy. “Are you from Vermont?”

“No, I live in Maryland.” She said quickly and forced herself to continue the conversation, “What about you?”

“Massachusetts. We come up to ski on President's Day weekend every year.”

Y/N nodded, “we usually stay closer to home but my parents wanted to do something different this year.”

They were both silent for a few seconds, each of them anxiously racking their brains for how to prolong this moment. The door to the examination room opened at that moment and a nurse practitioner came in, “well, Miss Y/N, I hear you took a tumble? Let’s take a look.” She started to pull out her stool and move towards Y/N, “I’m going to take your boot off, okay?”

Y/N sat up straighter and nodded to the NP while Chris jumped off the cot, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I get your parents? Are they in the lodge somewhere?”

“I think my parents took the shuttle back to the hotel, but my uncle was behind me. I’m sure he’s waiting for me by now.” She winced when the boot slid off, clenching her teeth. Tears formed in her eyes again and Chris returned to his spot next to her. He tentatively put an arm around her; without another thought, Y/N leaned into him and whimpered quietly while the practitioner manipulated her ankle. She looked up at Y/N sympathetically and then at Chris, “were you getting her uncle?”

“Oh, right,” Chris slid his arm away from Y/N. Tears were tracking down her face and he didn’t want to leave her. This girl he’d known less than an hour was now his only concern.

“The guy you were in line with is your uncle, right? What’s his name?”

“Chuck Y/L/N. He’s a really tall guy in a red snow jacket and–” she cut herself off when he came storming into the room with Scott hot on his heels.

“Y/N,” he barked, “are you alright? I heard what happened. This one–” he pointed behind him at Scott, “ –found me.”

“I’m okay, we just got started.” She gestured to the nurse practitioner who was still gently moving her foot and ankle, each time making Y/N wince or yelp.

“Damn snowboarders,” he glared at Chris and Scott before he pushed by Chris and sat down next to Y/N, “think they own the whole mountain. Goodbye, boys.”

“Uncle Chuck–,” Y/N started, looking up at Chris but Chuck cut her off with a stern, “goodbye,” before he started talking to the practitioner and asking questions.

Chris gave Y/N one last look and a wink; Scott apologized for the millionth time and waved half-heartedly before heading to gather their belongings and go to the shuttle. On the short ride from one side of the Killington property to the other, Scott talked the whole way, lamenting and then complaining of his own injury. Chris tried to sympathize with him, and he tried to listen, but he kept thinking about Y/N.

He thought about her all the way through dinner and a round of video games after dinner. He thought about her as he got ready for bed, and he was still thinking about her when he fell asleep. Maybe he’d come back from this long weekend to find that a new student was enrolled at school… Y/N. In his daydream, he was of course the one the guidance counselor called to show her around campus, which led to inviting her to eat lunch with him and his buddies, which led to asking her to go to the mall after school, which led to going to the movies that weekend, which led to kissing her goodnight, which led to…

Y/N however, had spent the rest of the day and well into the evening at the local hospital. The nurse practitioner had determined her ankle was likely broken and had advised her to be taken for X-rays. The emergency room staff confirmed it after several hours in the ER, and by the time it was set and she was in a cast with crutches, it was almost midnight. She was emotionally and physically exhausted. She’d begged and pleaded with her parents not to try to find the boy who’d done it; that it was an accident and they didn’t need to contact his parents and try to “decide how to deal with it.” After a very tearful conversation, her mother had finally convinced her father to drop the subject and let them get on with their weekend.

By the next morning, her mother had profusely offered to stay with her, rent movies and hang out in the condo with her, or take her shopping, but she’d decided to stay in the lodge and read her book with hot chocolate and the roaring fire. Her family left to ski for the day, her parents promising to come back and check on her at lunch. She was trying not to mope and moan, particularly because her dad and Uncle Chuck were still discussing the idea of talking to Scott and Chris’s parents. God, the last thing she needed was them to threaten to sue them. She knew it was all out of care, but both men could be a little overzealous. Y/N was certainly disappointed that Chris lived in Massachusetts and she was in Maryland, but she didn’t want them to stay in touch over a lawsuit.

She’d hobbled to the lobby and settled in front of the fire, and was about a chapter into her book when she felt the couch cushion beside her dip with the weight of a new body. They were way too close; who does that? Who sits down directly next to someone when there are multiple couches and oversized chairs? She peaked out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t help the grin that slid on her face. Chris was next to her, his own book open, and he was casually reading with a giant smirk on his face. He didn’t look at her immediately, instead, he continued to read and flipped the page dramatically.

Y/N continued to grin, knowing she was also blushing and feeling her whole body start to sweat, but she turned back to her book and forced herself to read. Another page in, and she felt his eyes on her. She continued her charade just as he had, and continued to read. He huffed a sigh and dropped his book in his lap to cross his arms. She picked up a piece of hair on her shoulder and twirled it around her finger, hoping it seemed casual and cool, while she finished her chapter. When she was done, she quietly put her book in her lap, picked up her hot chocolate, took a sip, and looked at him over the rim of the mug.

“Oh hey,” she whispered, hoping she sounded cooler than she felt.

“Hey yourself. Good book?”

She nodded and stared at him for a minute, taking in his perfectly gelled hair, his big handsome smile, and his captivating blue eyes. “Why aren’t you out there?” She gestured towards the huge windows next to them.

“I saw you when we left breakfast downstairs. I thought you might need some company today. You know, since Scott tried to kill you. I feel responsible for you.”

“Shouldn’t Scott feel responsible for me?”

“He’s proven that he can’t be trusted,” Chris pointed to her ankle, which was propped on the coffee table. There was a lull in conversation; Y/N was tapping her fingers on the cover of her book. Chris started to reach out to her and pulled his hand back; after taking a deep breath, he tried again and covered her hand with his. “I was also hoping you’d want to hang out with me.”

Words, Y/N. Any words right now. Say anything, you have to say something, oh my god he wants to hang out with you SAY SOMETHING. Y/N’s whole body froze as she stared at his hand on hers and his eyes fixed hard on her face. She had to be the color of a tomato right now. She had to be sweating. Could he feel that? Could he tell she was sweating? Were the tops of her hands as sweaty as her palms?

She settled for a shy nod and another lull settled over them, this one was more comfortable. She spilled her hot chocolate and they traded a few lines back and forth about the snow and how nice the fire felt. Finally, Y/N said, “let’s play 20 questions.”

“Isn’t that the game where you try to guess an object or something? You know like ‘is it bigger than a bread box?’”

She rolled her eyes, “I guess that’s the wrong name, but how about this: we each ask a question and both of us have to answer.”

“I’ll go first,” he agreed, looking around the room before he settled on his first question, “when’s your birthday?”

“April 2. You?”

“June 13. Your turn.” They went back and forth, moving into books and tv shows they watched, how they spent time with friends, and what their hobbies were. Y/N was fidgeting constantly, entirely unable to get comfortable and Chris kept jumping up to help her adjust her propped-up leg.

After Y/N finished telling a story about a time her social studies teacher split his pants during class, Chris’s laughter subsided and he smirked, “who was your first kiss?”

She bit her lip and dropped her eyes, “Kyle Brown. We were in 4th grade. It was the last day of school, he spent all day literally pulling my ponytail, then he kissed me on the bus, got off, and moved away. I never saw him again.”

Chris cackled, “what a chicken. If I was going to kiss you, I’d make sure I’d see you again every day.”

Y/N felt herself redden from the tips of her toes all the way to her hair; at the same time, her heart dropped. He said if he was going to kiss her. Meaning it was a hypothetical statement... Meaning he wasn’t going to kiss her. In this afternoon spent together on this sofa, she’d been convinced he was flirting and was convinced he’d kiss her. She stared down at her hands, trying to force a smile while she listened to his answer.

“Y/N?” He asked after she’d been quiet for a moment. She looked up and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ve been quiet for like a whole minute,” he laughed, “you okay?”

“I’m fine, I should just go back to the condo, I need to take some painkillers,” she started to stand up, reaching for her crutches that Chris thrust at her.

“Let me walk you back, I can help you get your meds and get you settled. Will you be alone?”

“It’s okay, I can get back on my own,” her voice was quiet while she tried to be sure she had everything. “Thanks for sitting with me today.”

“But I–”

She had already started to move away from him and he followed her, navigating around furniture and people; she tried to pick up her pace. She was embarrassed and sad that she’d misinterpreted the time together and even more embarrassed that she’d gotten her hopes up that a boy from Massachusetts would kiss her. It’s not like anything could come of it.

“Bye, Chris,” she glanced over her shoulder and said it as firmly as possible before starting to move again. He stopped in his tracks and just stared at her, watching her walk out of the lobby and into the wind.

#chris evans fanfic #chris evans #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans series #cevans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans drabble #christopher robert evans #chrisevans

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chosonore · 3 years

Text

part one | oblivion

oblivion [noun. the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening around one]

pairing: kamo noritoshi/f!reader

summary: your relationship with noritoshi was like a game of cat and mouse; no matter how hard you tried to escape from him, he would always find his way back to you.

wordcount: 3.9k

content/warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, language, noritoshi is kind of a dick but i promise it gets better so please don’t lose faith in him, we’re not strictly following the manga timeline bc while i am reading it, i do have a goldfish brain, lowercase intended

a/n: hello, here’s the first installment of my sanguine series! it’s the prequel of this drabble (nsfw) i wrote the other week while i was working on the outline of the fic. it’s a little slow burn because i wanted to spend some more time exploring their relationship and the groundwork for it, so yeah. i’ll try to update it regularly, but since i’ve only planned five parts for sanguine, it might take a while bc i want to take my time with it. if you want to stay updated with the series, i’ll post the masterlist to it shortly! i do hope you enjoy it though :) and stay safe, everybody! [tagging @sukirichi the sukuna to my yuuji, who just gets spammed when i start rambling about my aus but always screams with me (´• ω •`)]

masterlist - next

"y/n!" you look up to see miwa storming towards you, thrusting a book in your direction. "could you- could you please give this to noritoshi? i borrowed this book from him like a week ago and if i don't return this anytime soon, i think he's gonna kill me."

scowling at her, you look at the book in disdain. you wanted to avoid crossing paths with noritoshi as much as possible and miwa was well aware that you didn't like hi-

"please," miwa pleaded again, taking your hands and placing the book in it. "i'm really scared of him. he always looks like he's going to shoot me soon. even todo is pretty nice if you don't interrupt his takada-chan time!"

you sighed in annoyance, you just couldn't say no. ever since coming to the kyoto metropolitan curse tech, miwa and you had been pretty close because you strongly disliked the other students. most of them were arrogant and stuck-up, thinking they were better than the other; the two that belonged to the three clans were even worse. on your first day here you'd promptly gotten into a fight with mai, disliking how haughty she was and trying to prove everyone that she was better than them. much to your chagrin, the fight ended in a tie.

"fine, but you owe me some mango," miwa's face lit up in relief and she gave you a thumbs up before dashing to her room, most likely to escape noritoshi's wrath. you inspected the book. was it even worth returning it? maybe you could just throw it in the trash. if noritoshi ever found out, he'd kill miwa first and then you. you let out another sigh before making your way towards the training grounds. he most likely was outside to practice, either with one of the guys or alone. as you were nearing the training grounds, you could already hear the sound of arrows whistling and the dull thuds of them hitting the target. it was hard to spot him through all the trees; you weren't entirely sure where he was. your ears perked up when you heard him release another arrow until you realized that it was heading your way. this bastard. fortunately, you were able to slash the arrow clean in the middle, angrily pointing your sword in his direction. you still couldn't see him anywhere.

"you fucking idiot! you could've killed me," you snarled, stomping deeper into the forest. an amused laugh echoed through the trees.

"you're acting like i can't control my arrows. it's not my fault you let your guard down," noritoshi retorted smugly, lowering his bow as he saw you approaching. you were fuming, hurling the book at him. how dare he? you watched with satisfaction as it hit him square in the chest - who was caught off guard now, huh? he deserved it anyways.

"miwa asked me to return your book," you curtly explained and turned back around to leave but apparently, noritoshi had other plans. instead of saying anything else, he just followed you which unsettled you even more.

"stop following me."

"who said i was following you? i'm just going back to the dorms. i'm sorry you can't handle me being near you."

you whirled around, sword pointing dangerously close to his neck. he smirked at you triumphantly, it was just too easy to get a rouse out of you. "another word and i'll cut you, seriously. you're pissing me off," you gritted your teeth, hating that you always fell for his stupid games. he knew you all to well, what made you angry, what made you happy, what motivated you. once upon a time, you'd thought the same about him; until he changed so rapidly, so unlike your expectations. you were worlds apart and yet you'd reserved an ounce of hope that he wouldn't turn out to be as arrogant as the clan heads. swift as the wind, noritoshi grabbed your wrist, dragging it upwards and towards him until he could lean down to you. your heartbeat sped up - holy shit why was he so close to you - and you froze in shock.

"i'd like to see you try, princess," he whispered in your ear, the grip on your wrist tightening. "you wouldn't dare to."

the first time you met noritoshi, he was sitting outside in the garden with his mum. both seemed to have a good time. noritoshi's hair was tousled from the soft summer breeze and he had a soft smile on his face, happily munching away on the snacks that were displayed on the table. while he looked friendly enough, you were wary of meeting and talking to him because you felt kind of queasy around the kamo family. you couldn’t quite place a finger on the feeling, the older members of the family intimidating you to no end. much to your dismay, you felt like you had to be watchful - your parents worked for the kamo family, so naturally the apartment you lived in was close to the estate. you avoided any run ins with the adults, they weren’t exactly friendly to you. noritoshi’s mum had befriended your mum and they spent a lot of time together when possible. and yet you’d never met noritoshi before, seeing how busy he was with his various classes.

the fit that you threw, not wanting to tag along with your mum, was long forgotten when you’d spotted the jar of cookies on the table. before your mum could react, you pulled your hand away from hers and quickly ran towards it. “hello miss!” you greeted enthusiastically, your eyes shining at the sight of the sweets. “my name is y/n! i’m here with my mum and i uhm… could i have some of the cookies? please?” when your mum finally caught up to you, she scolded you quietly and greeted the other two, taking a seat beside noritoshi’s mum. you pouted, immediately climbing on her lap as you refused to sit next to the boy. his mum handed you a cookie which you happily took and thanked her politely. noritoshi was curiously eyeing you; it wasn’t often that he saw other children around his age and he didn’t have any friends to play with. his everyday life revolved around reading books, studying, taking archery classes and sometimes spending time with his mum. noritoshi barely even knew what fun was - he’d only ever felt at peace when he was around his mum.

“y/n, sweetie, why don’t you go and play with noritoshi?” your mum prompted but you immediately shook your head, hiding your face in her chest. she simply laughed and shook her head, brushing your hair back softly. “come on, noritoshi is really nice. you can be his friend one day, right? didn’t i tell you that friends are important?”

you frowned. then huffed. when she worded it like this, there was no way you could refuse. the cartoon that you religiously watched featured a group of friends that went on adventures and helped each other out. you’d told your mum that you wanted to be like that too! begrudgingly, you slid off her lap and trudged towards noritoshi who looked at you with big eyes. you held your hand out, waiting for him to shake it. “my name is y/n. uhm… nice to meet you,” you shyly whispered, eyes darting away from him.

it took a while until noritoshi reacted, shaking your hand gently and answering: “hello y/n, i’m noritoshi.”

much to your surprise, noritoshi was actually fun to be around with. he showed you his collection of books, the bow that he was practicing with and you often played the card game you’d received for your birthday together. he was smart and witty, often explaining you things that he’d read in a book but he was also attentive when he listened to you ramble about the other kids in school or when you told him about the cartoon that you were watching. for you, noritoshi was becoming your best friend - for noritoshi, you were his first friend. he cherished you and how unabashedly true to yourself you were. spending time with you was something he looked forward to; you always made him laugh and you didn’t care whether he lived up to the kamo family name or not. to you, he was simply noritoshi. you were like a fresh breeze of air in his life.

noritoshi didn't quite understand why the elders were always so hard on him, so strict and unrelenting. they expected only the best results from him and didn't show any understanding when he exhausted. he didn't enjoy practice anymore, the lessons becoming a chore and burden on his mind. but whenever he saw your face light up at his newly acquired skills, he thought it was worth the trouble. you came to visit him everyday after school, never skipping a day. sometimes he questioned why you weren't visiting your friends from school but you shook your head, poking his chest indignantly. "you're my best friend, 'toshi. of course i'd want to spend more time with you." noritoshi was glad you always chose him, without fail.

even though your parents had always warned you to be careful around noritoshi because his family was strict and didn't like outside influences distracting the heir, you never really strayed from his side. noritoshi didn't have any other friends, who would keep him company or listen to his troubles then? you didn't understand why your parents were suddenly going back on their word. they'd always told you that family and friends were important. you couldn't pinpoint your feelings for him - but your parents saw it. it was obvious; the stars in your eyes when you looked at him, the slight blush on your cheeks when he complimented you and how happy you were when you got to spend time with him. the more time you spent with him, the more they were worried for you.

"'toshi!" you yelled in excitement as you ran towards him, waving wildly. he dropped his bow and turned to you, a soft smile gracing his lips as he opened his arms to hug you. you squeezed him tightly. two weeks you hadn't seen him due to a school trip after which you got sick and weren't able to leave the house. you'd missed him a lot and you were excited to show him the souvenirs you brought him.

"look, i bought you an omamori!" you handed him the small object, then pointing on your bag to show him the one you'd bought for yourself. "i got myself a matching one too! my teacher said it wards off evil spirits and brings you luck." noritoshi's smile was bright, so bright. he was happy you thought of him and were always kind to him. your eyes widened as he leaned in to kiss your cheek before thanking you. the two of you were blushing, neither saying a word but not minding what had just happened.

the day noritoshi's mother left the estate was the day you were slowly starting to lose him. noritoshi grew more forlorn and didn't seem to easily find joy in anything anymore. the departure left a deep, deep gap in his heart. it had shocked him deep to the core when she left him. him. why couldn't she stay? why did she leave him when she was the only person who protected him, loved him? she did say that she was hindering his growth but who was she to decide that? he didn't want to become stronger, didn't want to protect other people like she'd told him to. he wanted to stay with her. "'toshi? 'toshi!" a concerned voice broke through his trance, pulling him back into reality. "i asked you a question! you weren't even listening to me."

you were pouting at him, tugging at his sleeve impatiently. noritoshi apologized, patting your head to soothe your temper. "what do you want to do in the future? mum said it's important to work towards your dreams!" you asked him curiously, grasping his hand to hold it. the gesture filled him with indescribable warmth, drawing him in like a moth to the flames. "my mum said i have a special power, i can heal people! i want to become a doctor in the future, so i can help everyone that got hurt," you explained to him so earnestly that he felt bad for the lie he was about to tell. noritoshi didn't have big dreams or ambitions just yet. he didn't even know what would be suitable to him - he was strictly following orders, never allowed to think for himself.

but when he looked at you, he only had one wish. "i think… i think i want to help people, protect them. especially those that i love."

with each year passing, you noticed that noritoshi was putting more and more distance between the two of you. at first you'd brushed it off as the stress of his training and number of classes he was attending. but as you spent less and less time together, the weight of the situation didn’t escape you. he was easily irritable, cold and arrogant, often rude towards employees of the kamo estate. every now and then when you’d scold him for being an asshole, he’d simply scoff at you and haughtily ask you how it was any of your business. you sighed, tossing and turning in your bed as you thought about how much noritoshi had changed. it kept you up at night, just thinking about how he wasn’t your ‘toshi anymore. you didn’t know this person. ‘toshi was always gentle and kind, he tended to overthink many things and sometimes he was a little bit of a crybaby but you still loved him regardless. you sneaked out of your room, finally mustering up enough courage to ask your mother for advice. the thought of her discovering your blooming crush on noritoshi was scaring you. your parents were wary around the kamos despite working from them - even more so ever since noritoshi’s mother left and the elders had free reign over her son.

“noritoshi! noritoshi, stop walking away from me! hey, i’m talking to you!” you yelled frustrated as you were trying to keep up with him. noritoshi was crossing the garden in long strides, it was nearly impossible to stop him as you couldn’t catch up to him. you lunged forward, getting hold of his sleeve and tugged him back harshly. noritoshi yanked his arm out of your grip, glaring at you annoyed.

“what do you want from me? i have better things to do than to quibble with you,” he hissed irritated. you couldn’t believe him, he had the nerve to dismiss you like this when he was in the wrong?

“you know exactly what i want from you! you can’t just go around and talk to people like you did before just because they’re not from a reputable family! noritoshi, you’re not any better than them just because your last name is kamo.”

as much as noritoshi scared you, you stood your ground. you knew he didn’t take you serious, not with the amused look he gave you. in the past month or two, noritoshi was suddenly hit by a growth spurt - you barely reached his shoulder now and he took advantage of that to mock you, often treating you like an armrest. he pat your head condescendingly, pouting at you in fake regret. “aw, did i hurt your feelings? did i make itty bitty little y/n sad?” he mocked you, before abruptly grabbing your cheeks to make you look at him. “i don’t care what you think of me, cry all you want. i strongly suggest you hold that sharp tongue of yours if you know what’s good. know your place.”

tears filled your eyes; noritoshi had never talked to you this way. what has gotten into him? your heart broke in pieces, unable to take the pain any longer. you were no longer his equal but below him, much like everyone else.

“mum?” you cautiously knocked at the door of her study, waiting for her response. your mother was most likely still awake and dealing with paperwork like she usually did. upon hearing the affirmative noise she made, you flitted inside, closing the door behind you so your father didn’t catch any wind of this. it was already embarrassing enough and you were sure your mother could offer you better advice. you gingerly took a seat on the armchair, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close to your body. how were you going to approach this? hey mum, i have a crush on noritoshi and he’s weird to me now and i don’t know why? uh yeah mum, i caught feelings for the guy you warned me about and now i look like a fool crawling up to you like this?

“it’s about noritoshi, isn’t it?” your mother interrupted your stream of thought, spinning her swivel chair towards you.

“huh? oh no it isn’t, why would it be? i have-”

“y/n.”

“ugh okay fine, maybe it is about him,” you sighed defeated, of course she would look right through you. she always seemed to know what you were thinking, even when you hadn’t confided in her before. “but promise me you won’t judge me!” the look in your mother’s eyes told you that she was going to judge you regardless but you knew she meant well - she simply wanted the best for you.

“i- i just don’t understand why he’s been such a pain in the ass lately. and he’s been treating everyone like dirt too, including me! mum, he’s becoming someone else and i… i don’t know what to do,” you sniffled inconsolably, wiping at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. she wasn’t supposed to see you getting emotional. “he’s always busy and when we do get to see each other, he doesn’t want to spend time with me. what if he doesn’t like me anymore? and i don’t like how he’s treating you! it’s the same issue with the elders, they don’t know any human decency at all!”

your mother motioned you to scoot over a little and sat next to you, wrapping her arms around you and patting your back to console you. while she meant well, it accomplished the opposite - you broke down in tears, unable to stop your sobs. “i just want my ‘toshi back,” you whimpered upset, burying your face in the pillow to muffle the sound of you crying. “i know you didn’t like that i became good friends with him but i couldn’t help it and i just really like him and- you weren’t supposed to find that out.”

“sweetheart, i know you love noritoshi,” she handed you a tissue. “you let a lot more on than you were aware of; dad and me always knew you were in love with him.” as if on cue, your sobbing stopped and you just looked at her in disbelief. she knew. she knew. you wanted the earth to swallow you whole. “i think it was always pretty obvious, to be honest. you always looked at him as if he was your entire world and no matter what happened, you were always by his side. i know it’s hard to accept when a dear friend is changing but sometimes you just have to, right? both of you are still growing, there’s no way of telling how your personalities change.”

“but i don’t want him to change like this,” you protested stubbornly, glaring at her. she was talking about it as if it was a matter of simply discarding a bad apple in the trash. it wasn’t easy and it made you anxious. you grew up together, shared secrets and memories. he was the person you’d always looked up to.

“y/n.” your mother sounded stern but you didn’t back down, not yet. “is it really worth it? if a person is changing so rapidly and you’re not getting through to them, you’ll have to let it go. there’s only so much you can do. people grow apart sometimes, it’s only natural. you have to let go of them, temporarily, so you both can heal and grow. y/n, i know you’re being stubborn about this but you’ll have to let him figure things out on his own. fate has curious ways to bring people back together.”

when the time came, noritoshi left to attend the kyoto metropolitan curse tech school without telling you a word. you were disappointed, apparently you weren’t worth saying goodbye to. whatever his reason was, it must’ve been pretty important. important enough to forget the promise that you’d always stay in contact. you wondered whether he'd change again, for the better maybe? maybe you would reconcile when you could finally attend the school as well and train together. you were excited to show him your sword skills, having received your family's heirloom, an elegant steel blue sword. though your skills probably weren’t up to par with the other students, you still wanted to show them off, show him what you’d learned in the year that you spent apart.

noritoshi had changed but not for the better. holy shit, did he get on your nerves. the first time he'd practiced with you, you realized that he had mutated into an insufferable know-it-all. he would give you backhanded compliments or make snide remarks about your posture, how you were supposed to hold your sword, how inefficient your fighting style was. sometimes you wished you could just beat him for once and have him shut up. there was no denying though, noritoshi was way too strong and you had a long way to go. judging from the reactions of the others, barely anyone had beat him either.

and just like that, your feelings for him were buried. you’d taken your mother’s advice to heart, keeping conversations and interactions with him to a minimum but somehow noritoshi always found his way to you. he was everywhere and a quarrel was inevitable. noritoshi got under your skin and he knew how to push your buttons. why he chose to pick on you was beyond your comprehension; he didn’t pay much attention to the other students nor was he particularly liked by them. just how much was he going to get on everyone else’s nerves? out of all the second years, todo aoi was the most amicable; you had the (dis)pleasure to run into him on your first day and for some reason, he took a liking to you. while he was loud and boisterous, mostly doing whatever he wanted, you couldn’t deny that he was a good friend. even though he didn’t care about anyone as much as he cared about takada-chan. at one point, he’d looked at you in sympathy when he caught you staring at noritoshi, patting your shoulder (too forceful): “i’m sorry, y/n, i’m so sorry.”

you still didn’t know what he meant by that.

ps.: todo knows and he’s kinda judging you for your taste in men

#jujutsu kaisen #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi #noritoshi x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi kamo x reader #noritoshi x you #kamo noritoshi x you #noritoshi kamo x you #noritoshi kamo imagines #kamo noritoshi imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #noritoshi imagines #fic: sanguine #writing #my writing has gotten SO incredibly rusty i literally only know how to write academic papers anymore bc that's all i do in my everyday life #it makes me speechless to see all the love on my previous sukuna fic and i'm so glad people are enjoying it #hey if you're lurking in the tags thank you for reading i really appreciate it! pls stay hydrated

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jaedore · 4 years

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BINDING BONDS | 11

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parings: jung jaehyun x reader

genre: ceo!au, arranged marriage!au, angst, asshole Jaehyun, swearing

[ ☽ smut | ◇ angst (mental health, therapy) | ☼ fluff ]

note: BB deals with themes of mental and physical abuse, which can be upsetting for some readers. If you feel uncomfortable reading these types of plots, you are advised to not continue. MINORS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, but I advise you to skip the sexual parts.

[ 10.7 words ]

The brisk winter wind pierces your cheeks and flows past your hair as you look at the view in front of you, the door to your balcony slightly opened. The distant image of the Eiffel Tower illuminates the city below your feet bringing bittersweet memories from long ago. It’s been five years. Five years since you felt his touch, funny how you could still feel his fingertips between other men you decided to indulge yourself in. It made it hard to stay until the sun rose. You hated yourself for it, but how else were you supposed to forget about the man who didn’t want to marry you? His ghost never left you, though. It followed you wherever you went, making you go crazy. That’s why you left the town where the love bloomed and broke, settling down in the city of love, how ironic. Your actions were always contradicting and it still is to this day.

In those five years, you quickly took over the CEO position of Audace, giving your mother the gift of early retirement. Into your first couple of years, you were listed Top 20 in Forbes Magazine, immediately gaining attention for your designs. You always reminded yourself to be humble whenever someone praises you for your work, you weren’t the only one with the hands behind the designs, of course.

Everything was the way it was supposed to be, you felt like the timeline had finally restored itself like it was your job to do so. You haven’t heard much about Jaehyun, you tried to avoid all news outlets about him as much as you could. But it was hard when the image of him would be spread across magazines, you figured that he did dip into the field of modeling, he was bound to with that beautiful face of his. You were roaming the streets of Paris when your eyes brisked over the stand that sold magazines, his face immediately catching your attention. You were proud of him, he looked like he was doing well, better. As you said, you steered away from the topic of him, afraid that maybe you still weren’t over him even if it’s been a couple of years.

News also came out that Jaehyun’s father was finally kicked out of Jung Corporations for his conviction of abuse, no matter how long ago it was, Jaehyun finally grew the courage to stand up to his father. Of course, the stocks plummeted, but with Jaehyun’s quick words of persuasion and work ethic, they soared the next year, earning Jung Corporation a spot on the Forbes Top 20, also. You remember smiling when you saw his company’s name on the same list as you, he did it.

As for the contract of your marriage, it was currently on hold, creating dust in its existence. As time moves on, your mother hopes that you can reopen the contract, but she knows that it’s more than that now, so she leaves it to you, since you’re presently the CEO of Audace and made all the decisions. You’d think that you’d shred that contract by now, but you haven’t. What’s been stopping you?

Jaehyun has made sure to spread his face on every single cover on a magazine, hoping that you’d come across it and come home to him. Ever since you left, he’s gotten no trace of you. He’d call you, text you, but got nothing. He quit trying the third year, thinking that you had blocked him or got a new phone number because he never heard an answer back. Jaehyun even reached out to Haewon and Mark, but they never got the answer he wanted because you never told your closest friends. Were you selfish to do that to them? Too bad that Haewon knew you too well to find out where you were, but trustworthy enough to seal her lips.

It took Jaehyun a long time to accept that you were gone, the memory of you felt like a dream to him. Waking up alone every morning brought anguish to him, the sun telling him that you never came back and that you probably never will. Sometimes he thinks he’s going insane because his memories of you are so distant.

That’s why he traveled to every possible country he’d assumed you’d be in, New York, Los Angeles, Tokyo, Shanghai, London, and even Paris. So when you heard the word of the newest, hottest bachelor was coming to Paris, you knew you’d have to go into hiding because the newest, hottest bachelor was your ex. Being on the cover of dozens of magazines sure had its perks, but for Jaehyun, all he wanted to do was find you. That’s why he left Paris after three weeks, thinking that you had for sure resided there. Which you had, you just didn’t have the courage to come out and face him. You sure did a hell of a good job erasing your existence from his world. You were stubborn, he’s always known that he just didn't know he’d have to go to these lengths to come to that conclusion.

Life went on like that, you two lived your separate lives like there wasn’t a string attached to your fingers, you felt like you two were always meant to say goodbye. Jaehyun has never dared to touch another, for you, and only you solely have his heart. He’d give it to you over and over again if it means getting hurt again. Of course, he didn’t know about your short-lived rendezvous because while you found your lust in other men, begging yourself to be open and find someone, it was never them that refused your love, it was your own doing because you could never find yourself to stay the night. Goodness, you just wanted to feel again. You wanted to love, love like how the sun goes down for the moon every start of the night.

“You’re not staying the night?”

“Not tonight, Yuta.” you gave him a small smile as you picked up your discarded dress on the floor.

The Japanese model propped himself on his elbows, whistling at your figure as you slip your dress on. You narrowed your eyes at him until you realized a few buttons to your Versace Sweetheart Cady Single-Breasted Blazer was missing.

“Really?” you sighed, falling on your knees to search the floor for those stupid buttons.

“What are you looking for?” Yuta sat up, watching you crouch below the bed.

“You ripped this too hard that the buttons popped out, Yuta,” you snapped.

“It’s fine. Go, I’ll find it. It gives me another excuse to see you again,” he smirked at you.

“Yeah,” you sighed, glancing at him, “that’s very unlikely.”

“And why is that?”

Spotting the lost buttons under the bed, you snatched them in your hand and stood up, giving him a sly look, “Because I never give a man a second chance.” Grabbing your clutch, you smiled at him before shutting the door, seeing him chuckle to himself in denial as he fell back on the bed with his hands behind his head.

That was a lie, you do give men a second chance, but the only man you’d give it to is Jaehyun. No matter how long it’s been, how old you were, how forgotten your relationship was with him, you know that he will always have you, be a part of you.

Tomorrow you were leaving to go back home. It’s been a while since you’ve been back and your parents dearly missed you. It was the annual charity ball your family always attended and they wanted you to come to create social networks with others to build Audace. You were a little hesitant because you knew Jaehyun was going to be there, you just didn't know if you were ready to face him or even to just see him.

You leave early in the morning so you could land back home by sunrise. And with your bags already packed, you wondered if tonight would finally give you the rest you needed. You spent countless nights unable to sleep, you think it’s insomnia, but your heart tells you differently. You’ve invested in useless doctors that only tell you to just take those ludicrous melatonin gummies. Of course, they never helped.

You throw your bag onto the chair next to your bed, everything was set for you to leave for tomorrow. Your passport, luggage, duffle bags were all in place at the door and for the slightest second, you felt excitement electrocute through your body.

Maybe it was just you, but the smell of home brought you wistfulness. Should I have stayed? Would everything have been better if I stayed? You had no idea where Jaehyun was or if you’d ever see him on your little trip back home. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t see you, you didn’t even bother coming out of your shell when he did.

“Y/n!!!” A familiar squeal was heard from the echoes of the airport.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh with a smile on your lips. You turn around to see Haewon running to you with a lovely smile on her face, “Hey,” you embrace her in a tight hug, wafting the same perfume she wore when you two were younger.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” Haewon pulled you away by the shoulders, examining your face. You’d beg to differ, but she’d disagree, “I mean, you aged backward! Your skin is glowing and you look so beautiful and youthful. Paris must’ve done its justice on skincare!”

You laugh at her witty remarks, “No, no, no! If anything, you’ve changed! Look at you, you still look like how you did 5 years ago!

“Stop,” Haewon waves at you in disagreement, “come. Let’s get you home,” she grabs onto your arms and heads to the car as her assistants drag your things behind you two.

“So tell me all about Paris!” Haewon blinks at you with wide eyes, like a child excited to receive their favorite candy.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything! From fashion to food to the monuments. I want to know everything, y/n,” she begs.

You tell her everything. From the fashion shows that you were able to manage, to the sweet and savory meals, even to the fountains in Paris, you told her everything that your fingers brushed past. Haewon sat in envy, wishing that she visited you more often. There was a snip of a moment where regret weighed in your heart, maybe you should’ve called her to come. As you finished telling her about your adventures, you two sat in silence, the hum of the car filling the car. It’s been a while since you saw her and she looked so satisfied to finally have you home even if it was just for a few days.

“How’s Jaehyun?” Your voice barely meets a whisper that almost misses her ears.

Thinning her lips, Haewon looked at you with sincerity but with a little pity, “he’s okay, I think. With modeling and the company, he’s been busy so he hasn’t hung out with Mark a lot. Mark says that he’s doing a lot better, he’s been going out a lot the past couple of years, but he doesn’t talk to anyone or bring them home. We both think that it’s because he’s still not over you, he also still doesn’t talk to Chaeyoung anymore.”

You nod, you weren’t necessarily expecting anything, you just wanted to check up on him, but his name still makes you miss the happier times with him. You hold Haewon’s words like a string in front of you, I hope he is doing better.

The car rolls up to the familiar view of her apartment building, more trees were added around the rectangular architecture bringing out the bareness of it due to the cold weather. As your feet patted the snow, the way up to her apartment was almost unfamiliar. You always thought you’d know the steps to specific places with your eyes closed, but it raised a question to your mind. What if you forgot the most important things? What would you do then? Would they even be important if you had already forgotten them in the first place?

When Haewon opened the door to her apartment, everything about it had changed. The couch was on the opposite side of the room, the dining table that used to be horizontal was now vertical, giving it more space, and the color scheme that was once in hues of pink and greens was now white and browns.

“Wow,” your eyes widen, taking in all the changes, “love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thank you,” Haewon smiled proudly, “the pink and greens were getting old. Plus, I feel like this is more mature for me.” her laugh rings in your ears as you scan her kitchen, she’s even got new dishes.

You smile back at your best friend, “It’s nice.”

You sit comfortably on her couch as she makes you some warm tea. Your eyes skim through her walls, pictures of you remained nailed to it but in different frames, she’s even added new ones from when she visited you in Paris. Below them, there were green plants in grey vases, giving it the earthly vibe she always had in her.

“Here,” Haewon hands you your cup of tea as she sits beside you, “so you’re gonna stay with your parents?”

“Yeah, they miss me a lot and I miss them too, so it won’t hurt to stay.”

She pouts a little bit enough for you to notice her bottom lip jutting out, “Aw, that’s okay. Just promise that you’ll say goodbye to me before you leave. If you leave like last time, I’m gonna tell Jaehyun where you are,” Haewon threatens you.

“Hey!” your eyes enlarge in seriousness. You hope she doesn’t and you know she won’t but there’s a sliver of desire that you want her to.

“I’m just kidding, I won’t. I know you don’t want that,” she holds your hand after seeing how serious you were, “You and your little game of fate.” Haewon laughs as she strides to the kitchen to retrieve some snacks.

By the time you’ve binge-watched a series, finished a whole meal of Chinese takeout, you were drained and out of it. You know it’s getting late as the stars are the only source of light in the sky, other than the street lights.

“I should get going,” you grabbed your jacket that draped over the couch, but when you didn’t hear a peep from Haewon, you turned your head to see her asleep with her mouth opened to the ceiling. You chuckle at the amusing sight of your best friend knocked out with deranged hair and a little drool at the corner of her mouth. You turn off the tv and cover her with the cotton quilt before you kiss her forehead, “goodnight.”

As you quietly shut the door, you call for a cab knowing that you’re on the brink of almost being too late, but since no one’s out, by the time you reach the entrance, the driver is already there and waiting for you.

The night winter air hits your cheeks, turning it a crimson red along with the point of your nose. Home was always the coldest in the wintertime and hottest in the summer, there was no in-between. Puffs of grey smoke escape your mouth as you sit in the heated car, rubbing your hands together for more warmth. You tell the driver your address as you lean back in the seat, letting the drive paint your window with the outside scenery until you see the familiar sight of your home. When you do, you tip the driver with a heavier tip because it’s late at night before striding up to the front gates.

When you walk in the mansion, the lights are off darkness pooling into the large vacant home, echoing your heels. You’re quiet in your steps that lead to your room, afraid that you’d wake your parents up. The empty hallway that leads to your room is still filled with the same pictures, the smell coming from the same candles, the same flowers in the same vases, nothing has really changed around here. It’s as if you never really left, it makes your mind drift to your former shared apartment with Jaehyun. Has he changed anything since I’ve left? Is everything still the same? Does he still even live there? It’s a bittersweet memory, it really is, but you hope for the positive, your heart silently wishing things hadn't been the way it was. That you stayed that night in his arms, hearing his silent breathing as you comb your fingers through his soft, floppy hair. To have his head laying on your chest, hearing your heartbeat go at peace because he was in your arms. You got the good side of him.

You strip off your clothes, discarding them on the cream rug, and letting the warm water spill on your body. Life is a series of choices and if you are lucky enough, miracles. Your youthful mind would have disagreed and thought that you’d do things based on choices, but now, you’re convinced that if fate allows it, it shall be. Miracle or not, you will welcome it with open arms, you’ve grown accustomed to detachment and self-growth. Maybe you were saving yourself for Jaehyun because maybe you truly weren’t over him. Either way, you detach yourself from every man you’ve met because you had a sliver of hope that fate was going to lead him to you. But were you wasting your time in doing so? What if in the end, he wasn’t even yours? You dip your head, letting the water swim through your hair, giving it slight weight. I’m thinking too much. You rub your eyes, not knowing if the sting was from your developing tears or the water. Suddenly, you reach to turn off the water and give yourself a quick dry ahead of pulling your pajamas on.

And now you’re on your bed, your eyes still light as a feather. Your nights always consisted of this, unclosed eyes, frequent gazes at the ceiling or the window by your side, and sometimes tear-stained cheeks. The theory of possibly seeing Jaehyun crossed your mind the entire night, you know you were bound to see him soon so you needed to mentally prepare yourself for the moment. Thankfully for the long night Haewon provided for you, the thought of Jaehyun finally left his home in your mind and you found yourself slowly falling into slumber, anticipating another visit from him in your dreams.

“Honey, honey...honey,” Shaken awake by the sweet voice of your mother, you woke up to the image of her sitting on the edge of her bed. Just like the home, she looked like she didn’t age a day. She was as beautiful as you last remembered her.

“Morning, mother,” you yawn, stretching your limbs towards each side of the wall.

“More like afternoon,” she scoffed, pulling the sheets from you.

You instantly curl your body into a ball, cursing yourself for only wearing a long t-shirt and shorts. You peered at the clock by your bedside seeing 12:30 glancing right back at you. “Sorry, long day yesterday.”

“That’s okay. Get up now, get ready, go eat, and let’s go find a dress for you. The ball’s in a few days.”

Obeying your mother, with stiffness in your body, you were able to brush your teeth, comb your hair, and put on a presentable outfit. As you walk down the stairs to the dining room, you see your mother and father holding hands, laughing as they eat. You stopped in your tracks, standing still on the stairs as your hand gripped on the rail, watching them enjoy each other’s company. A little bit of your heart envied the sight in front of you, all you wanted was to love someone. To care for them, love them, and grow old. Most of all, you wanted to do all of those things with Jaehyun, but-

“You’re here! Come eat, we have to hit the stores before traffic gets heavy,” your mother waves you, immediately cutting you from your thoughts.

You greeted your parents as you sat down. Everything in front of you was luxurious, there were fancy sandwiches, bowls of freshly washed fruit, and cut out aged cheese, along with the bottles of wine scattered across the table. You didn’t even know where to begin, you missed everything from home, especially the food.

“Hurry, eat! I have a ton of places we have to check out,” your mother is persistent in finding you the most extravagant dress, a present for your return home for the couple of days you were here. It’s been 5 years since you’ve been back, of course, she wanted to go all out for her only daughter.

“Okay this,” your mother points at the lake green colored dress that hugs your body, the silken fabric falling at your feet, “is the one,” with wide eyes she slowly stands up and walks to you with arms open.

“Really?” you tilt your head to the side, observing your reflection.

“Pair it with some clear heels, signature earrings to elongate your neck, leaving the chest open, and voila, the perfect outfit.” the employee persuades you, as they should because that’s what you ended up purchasing.

“Oh no,” the employee waves his hand at you, dismissing your mother’s card, “that gentleman already paid for your entire attire,” he points behind you and you snap your head in his direction.

Like the time had slowed down, the most handsome man that has ever come into your life, stood across the store from you. His gentle gaze sits on your shoulders, but it embraces you instead of piercing through you. His tall physique has become lean, more muscular yet toned. His signature dark hair was styled like the last time you saw it, it was always your favorite.

“Jaehyun,” your whispered tone comes out as a gasp at the man who stood several feet from you.

A friendly smile sits on his face as the air returns to your lungs and as your brain begins to function again. What a sight you desperately missed. You longed to run to his arms and to hug him, kiss him, love him like the old times, but your feet remind you to stop as soon as you see a pair of arms slither his arm. A woman, just around your age interlocks her hand with his and smiles brightly at him. She’s as gorgeous as you can imagine, probably a model, for her body and frame compliments his.

You clear your throat, regaining poise, and give him a slight nod, careful to not look at him again as you turn yourself around to thank the cashier and scurry out of the store.

“That was Jaehyun, wasn’t it?” Your mother cautiously asks, quickly catching up to you.

“L-let's just goes mother, p-please,” you stutter as you reach the car and attempt to open the door, begging her to unlock it.

Cranking up the air conditioner, you rest your head between your hands as they rub your temples. You ask yourself again and again what just happened and if you actually saw him, but your brain knew better than your heart, you did in fact see Jung Jaehyun standing just a few feet from you.

“Are you okay?” she rubs your back as you try to steady your breathing.

“I’m fine, can we just please go home now? We have my dress,” you beg.

Your mother starts the car right away, aware of your little episode. You think that maybe you’re overreacting a little bit, but this was all physical. If you could control it, you would and you wouldn’t be in such a crouched position feeling this way.

When you finally feel your heartbeat becoming steady again, you sit up and lean back into the seat, you stare out the window, completely dazed. You feel like you didn’t even experience seeing Jaehyun. For the first time in five years, he still tugs your heart and how stupid you feel for thinking that there could be the smallest room for you in his heart when you were the one who left him, ignored him, written yourself off from his story. Of course, he already had somebody, somebody that loves him, cares for him, far better off than what you could’ve done. You were the one that left, what were you truly expecting at this point?

As the car drives up to your home, you’re quick to strip yourself and bury under the covers. The room is dark and silent, the most dangerous time for your mind to wander. Fear settles under your skin when the thought of ending up alone crosses your mind. You’ve been alone all of your life before Jaehyun even showed up, who knew how hard it’d be to go back to the forgotten feeling of being alone.

You hadn’t noticed that you’ve knocked out when a faint knock sounds from your door. Your eyes slowly open, but along with your head, it’s too heavy from your thoughts to lift itself. Slowly as the door opens, Haewon peeks her head through and suspects that you’re still asleep when she sees your body calmly fall and rise. Haewon tip-toes to your bed, lifting her heel, afraid that the clanking noise would startle you awake. Without a word, she sits on the edge of your bed and combs her fingers through your hair, removing the loose strands from your face. She hates seeing you like this, so broken. You’ve worked yourself until you were unable to stand, you’ve dismissed all opportunities to feel something from any man and anyone, most of all, you’ve denied your existing love for Jaehyun. But she knows that you know all of that, you just choose to brush it off your shoulder because that’s what you always did. You’d dust things off and shove them down until you’d combust. Five years of shoving things down have resulted in this.

You stayed that for the next few days, curled up in a ball under the mountain of blankets. You despised yourself for not spending time with your parents with the few days you had, but you could barely get up, you didn’t have the energy to even sit. Your mother brought you soup occasionally and stayed there, making sure you finished it to the last drop. She reassured you that it’s okay, to stay in bed and take your time to heal. She also told you to make time to walk around, talk to the workers in the house, or take a walk in the greenhouse, which you did when you could. Heartbreaks were never easy for you anyway.

Before you knew it, tonight was the night for the Annual Charity Ball. There you stood in front of the mirror in the Marchesa Crystal-Embellished Velvet Gown observing how the dress nestled against your body. You always wore expensive gowns like this, but you felt rather insecure for the first time in a while, maybe the reason was that you were finally home after years of never showing up and felt like you had to prove yourself.

Everyone was gathered in the dimly lit room, waves of laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses filled the massive ballroom. One of the biggest events for the biggest international companies and here you were, not even reaching ten years of CEO experience and now forced to network with those that have been.

“You’re going to do fine,” Haewon rubs your back, “just don’t look intimidating and you’ll be fine,” she winks at you, but you playfully roll your eyes and push her towards the bar where she was already making her way.

A low voice clears behind you, “Ahem-”

You turn around to reveal an old friend, “Mark!” you jump into his arms, missing the embrace from him.

He pulls away from you with a bright smile shining on his face and carefully eyes you, “You look stunning tonight.”

“Wow,” you smiled, “you clean up very well, I must say Mr. Lee.” you gently punch his arm.

Mark playfully winces, but offers you his arm, “Come on, let me get you something to drink.” you happily take a hold of his arm as he leads you to the bar that was elegantly built, chandeliers decorating the area with white marble counters in addition to the handsome bartenders mixing the most luscious refreshments.

“I’ll have an Old Cuban please, and-” Mark glances at you, waiting for your answer.

“And I’ll have a Gin and Tonic, please.”

“Classy,” Mark cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Always have been.”

As you wait for your drinks, Mark and you take your time to catch up. The need to network and talk to others completely dissolves as you two catch up five years of each other’s lives. You avoid the opportunity to take another drink as Mark orders his second one, but time is lost when you two are immersed in each other’s stories. It makes you realize how much you’ve missed him and how much you missed everyone’s life when you left.

“So where have you been?” The burning question leaves his mouth and you hope that he’s too tipsy to even hear or wait for your answer.

“Just-” you hesitate, seeing his state of giggles and blushed cheeks, “around the globe, traveling here and there.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head, “No, but like, where have you been? You left without saying goodbye and you were gone for five years, y/n.” even though it held humor, you knew Mark enough to know he was being serious.

“I was...I was in-”

“Come on, why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? I thought we were friends.”

“We are Mark, we are!” you repeat to the male, “but I just needed to get away from all of this, I needed to leave.”

“Leave because of what? Because of Jaehyun?”

And like a fever dream, your eyes meet with the owner of the name. He’s across the ballroom, this time his gaze piercing through your chest. It’s intense and possessive, yet also holds a longing for you. A whispered gasp rolls from your throat and your eyes scatter anywhere on your lap, avoiding to look up.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, “I have to go to the bathroom,” you leave a tipsy Mark behind as you race for the bathroom.

Dashing to the nearest bathroom, there’s a ring in your ear against the thumping in your heart, and it’s the only thing you can hear because it’s so loud. You push open the door and slam the stall door shut as you lean against the stone stall. You clutch your chest and play with your collar as you catch your breath, a gust of heat coating your body.

“Y/n?” It’s Haewon.

“Y-yeah?” your voice breaks.

“I saw you run in here, you okay, baby?” you can hear her voice becoming louder as the ring in your ears tunes out.

“I’m fine,” you slowly open the stall to see Haewon standing in front of you with a worried expression.

She gives you an absurd look, fully knowing that you are clearly not okay and she brings you into a hug. “Everything’s going to be okay. Do you want to leave? We can go back to your place and just hang out.”

Haewon’s offer sounds tempting, but you had to remind yourself you were here for a reason. You were here to talk and network, yet you let your emotions take over you. Once again. You give her a compassionate look, a small smile stretching your lips, “No, I’m okay now. Thank you for checking up on me, though. Let’s go,” you rub your forehead as she holds onto your hand, leading you back out to where everyone is.

Your eyes scan everyone in the room, seeing who’s here and who’s who, but they scan over certain someone. Someone who chased you away. Jung Jaehyun stood just a mere few feet away from you. His tall, lean physique would still tower over you if he came closer, his eyes still gleamed against the chandeliers, and he still looked handsome as ever. As soon as you see the familiar arms that belonged to the woman you saw at the store a couple days ago, wrap around his, you’re convinced that you’re just a distant memory for him now. You quickly turn your head, making sure to keep your chin lifted as you follow Haewon, who’s already talking to a bunch of businessmen. You step until you're beside her and join the conversation. Several of them were handsome, bachelors, some your age, a little older, and some a little younger.

They were all polite enough for you to jump in, they included you in their jokes, making you clutch your stomach in laughter. They were good at keeping your mind away from straying.

“So, Y/n,” Johnny Seo, a corporate bank owner speaks up, “how’s the CEO position of Audace treating you?”

“It’s great. You know life is kinda fun when you love what you do,” you reply, earning groans from a bunch of them.

“You’re lucky you were born into such a life like that,” a car enterprise CEO named Ten, speaks up.

You quickly laugh before the conversation turns into a serious one, “you’re always welcome to dream a life that you want if you have the drive for it.” You smile at him before turning your back and heading out to get air.

Outside the ballroom leads to a greenhouse, the lush trees and vibrant-hued flowers compliment the sunset that sits on the horizon outside of the warm, glass structure. Making your way on the stone steps that lead to the edge of the greenhouse that overlooks the city below you, you inhale a deep breath and slowly let it out as you gaze at the orange and pink sky.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” A voice expresses behind you.

“Yeah,” you simply reply before your eyes widen. You knew that voice, you could pick it up from anywhere at any time because it always brought you peace of mind.

The owner of the voice walks until he’s beside you, his body coming in your peripheral vision. At that moment, the familiar smell travels to your nostrils, the warmth from his body embraces your cold one, and that’s when you knew you had nowhere else to go.

“I was talking about you,” Jaehyun replied, his eyes glued to the view in front of him.

You slightly drop your head to the ground, staring at your shoes. There’s a dreading feeling that sits in your bones, anxious if he was going to ask you a series of questions of where you were or why you were gone for such a long time. You weren’t expecting him to approach you but little did you know, he’s been waiting all night to.

“Thank you,” you whisper, keeping your gaze stuck on your shoes. In the corner of your eye, you can see him shifting until he’s fully facing you, but you’re good at doing what you’ve been doing.

“Y/n, where have you been?” Jaehyun asks, his voice is tainted with sadness, yet tinted with a little bit of frustration. “You’ve been gone for five years and I haven’t seen you, talked to you ever since you left. You haven’t picked up any of my calls, you haven’t answered any of my texts. I know I blew up on you and we broke things off, but I-” he slightly pauses to calm himself down. You’re next to him, eyes on your expensive shoes and you look absolutely breathtaking to him. You haven’t aged one bit, you still look like your younger self when he met you, still youthful and beautiful. Like always, you were a literal angel. Instead of continuing to speak, Jaehyun clutched your shoulders and pulled you in his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around your frame.

You let out a surprised gasp when your body collided with Jaehyun’s. The tightness of his arms constricted you like he was trying to tell you to stay. He holds you in that moment, afraid to let you go, knowing that you weren’t going to come back for the next couple of years. Tears begin to grow in his eyes as he feels your arms wrap around his body, your gentle touch brings him to his knees, brings him to tears.

“Jaehyun, please,” you bleed, your voice broken.

He instantly pulls away to see you crying and brings his palms to your cheeks, “Please don’t cry.” he begs you because he knows that if he continues to watch you cry, he would also cry. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean a word back then. I wanted to marry you, I still do. I just said those words out of anger and I know I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry. Please, y/n, will you ever forgive me?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, closing your eyes, letting the tears stream down your face.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “I am. I am sorry,” a tear leaves the corner of his eye and he rests his forehead against yours, letting his emotions take over him.

You two stay like that for a bit, holding onto each other, basking in each other’s presence with the sun setting behind you. You gently pull away, holding onto his hands, the ones that became stronger over the past few years, the ones that always set your skin to flames.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, looking at him with bloodshot eyes. Jaehyun gives you a questioning look, “but I have to go.” you bring his hands together, pressing them against your lips before you set them beside his side.

“Please don’t leave me again.” his voice cracks, his heart is unable to bare life without you again.

Your innocent eyes catch him and before you know it, Jaehyun’s proximity is so close you can feel his breath float on your lips. Functioning on your emotions, you close the distance, gently pressing your lips on his. And it’s like you haven’t forgotten the feeling of his lips, you’d never forget it whenever you kissed, it’s like water after a marathon. It’s like sleep after a hard day, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. But you could no longer have this kind of luxury.

You cup his face, pulling yourself from his lips, “I’m sorry Jaehyun,” you give him a sad smile before backing away, leaving him once again, alone.

As Jaehyun watches you leave, he doesn’t chase after you. He knows you still love him and he still loves you, if fate allows it, you’ll come back. You always do.

Saying goodbye was harder than you thought, but it was the hardest with Jaehyun. You never said goodbye to him, you just left him there as you did before. You were always leaving, always shoving your emotions down, never facing them head-on.

Life wasn’t always easy, but you tried to make the most of it. You missed Jaehyun dearly, although there was a big part of your heart that longed for him and wanted to go back home to him, a larger part of yourself knew that your clocks were no longer in sync. You both have given each other love and growth and taught each other how to forgive, whether it was silent forgiveness or verbal. Every day you hope that you’d have the courage in yourself to let him back in your life, you know it’s there and you’re ready, you just needed the extra push.

It’s been months since you returned home. The brisk, winter wind finally cooled you down whenever you opened your windows. The trees were a lush green, blooming with yellow flowers on the tips, and there were chatters from below your window. The people of Paris always loved coming out in the summer to attend the town marketplace, picking fresh produce and bundles of colorful bouquets to bring to their loved ones. Every Saturday you made sure to also go, it was a good way to make friends and grocery shop.

In your stay in Paris, you made a small group of friends. The five of them were always good at bringing you to tears with their jokes and spontaneous stories, it was like being a careless teenager again. Since everyone was always busy with their own lives, you guys made sure to schedule a time of the month to get dinner and catch up. Tonight was one of those nights. Since they’re more on the extemporaneous side, the reservations were always bounced around within the city, giving you the gift of tasting every fine cuisine. Tonight’s reservation was at the Le Jules Verne, the second floor of the Eiffel Tower. That place holds a special place in your heart, heck, this entire city did. You would be lying if you didn't miss Jaehyun every time you’d pass a place you passed long ago on your visit here with him.

“Hey! Y/n, you’re here!” Julian greets you from the table.

“Hi,” you hug her before sitting in your seat, “Adalene isn’t here yet?” you scan the seats as one sits vacant.

“No, you know how she is,” Estelle rolls her eyes from across the round table, “always late.”

“It’s okay, we’ll order wine first,” Diane chirps, raising her hand to the waiter.

You sit yourself down, shifting in your seat to make yourself comfortable. Conversations and giggles are exchanged from across the table, from the hottest gossip to old stories, everything was always such a good memory with these ladies. The food that was brought was slowly chomped down throughout the night, making the night go by a little faster than usual, but you weren’t complaining, you always had a good time with your friends, but something about this place just brought you nostalgia and slowed time down. After a while, the wine bottle was sipped and emptied, while blinded smiles were painted across everyone’s faces with a slight blush.

“Ma’am,” your waiter came to your side of the table.

“Yes?” You glance at him, with a questioning look, your eyes curiously staring at the beverage in his hand.

“The man from the bar brought your drink,” he nodded at the bar, but you were too busy already reaching for it and sipping it.

The glass of red wine looked all too familiar, you knew the texture of it, the smell, and the taste. You memorized on melancholy nights where you locked yourself in your apartment and looked at pictures of Jaehyun or read articles of him. It was the wine that you two had the first time you two came to Paris. It was always hard to forget several little puzzle pieces of him.

As your friends ogled at your bizarre behavior of quickly downing the drink, you finished it in a couple of gulps and set the glass down. Your eyes skimmed the bar, but no sight of Jaehyun was there. You sighed and excused yourself from the table, you were completely losing it that you needed to get fresh air. But as soon as you opened the doors to the balcony of the Eiffel Tower, there he was. His eye-catching self leaning over with his hands clasped before him.

Your forehead creased, “Jaehyun.”

He turned to you, and boy, was this man very dapper in his dark suit with his hair gelled back. You always loved that look on him and now that he’s illuminated in the moonlight, it was a sight you never thought you’d be able to see.

“Love,” his nickname makes your heart skip a beat, “you got my drink?”

You nodded, slowly making your way to him, “what are you doing here in Paris?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he mumbles under his breath, head falling forward following with a little chuckle, “but I think I know the answer.”

You stay silent beside him, looking at the dark sky that’s littered with stars. With Jaehyun by your side in Paris, it feels as if he’s always been here. It feels like your first time here with him again.

“Congratulations on your successes by the way,” he says, a sincere smile across his lips.

“Thank you, you too.” you return, “Being on Forbes list, especially. That’s a big achievement.”

“Thanks, it was hard after- all of that,” he implies to the incident of his father and how everything went crashing down after that.

“But hey-” you turn to him as he does the same to you, “-you did it. I always knew you could.”

Jaehyun smiles at you, “I got help too,” he whispers, fumbling with his fingers. He lets out a quiet chuckle, “I still am.”

“That’s good, I’m proud of you. I understand how helpful that can be, let me know if you need anything.” you silently say the last part, quietly shunning yourself because you haven’t been present in his life.

Jaehyun thanks you, but looks at you, his gaze peering at your face. Oh how much he’s missed seeing you, having you this close to him. “I’m still in love with you,” he blurts out. Your breath pauses as you turn his way. Your eyes scan his face and it tells you that he genuinely means it. “And I mean it. There hasn’t been a day where I don’t miss you, where I love you less. Hell, having you not by my side makes me love you even more. It makes me crazy.” He confesses.

You’re dead frozen in your stance, the wind gushes through both of your hair, messing yours up more. Maybe this was a sign, a sign that the world is telling you that the time is now because a large part of yourself knows that if it’s not now, it’s never. The look on his face tells you how much love the man in front of you holds for you and you know that it’ll be there forever. There’s not a question of doubt that crosses his face and nothing will stop him from leaving because he knows you feel the same way. He almost knows you more than you.

“I love you, Jaehyun. I never stopped,” you reveal, your voice slightly breaking from the river of tears you were now producing.

Jaehyun brings you into a hug, his arms find his place around your body and it feels like the last puzzle piece has been placed. He sniffles with you in his arm, he’s dreamt of this moment every night. That you’d be back in his arms and that your love is still there for him. Feeling like this is almost too good to be true, Jaehyun pulls back to see you. Your makeup is almost smeared, but your eyes are delicate as he gazes into them.

Just as you felt the wind dance through your hair once again, Jaehyun pulls you to him, his lips settling on yours, letting the familiar feeling of comfort take over him.

(a/n: lol listen to kendrick lamar’s love [slow + reverbed] it’ll set the mood hehe)

You struggle to lock your apartment door as you both enter with fumbling feet, tangling your shoes with your fingers as it pleads to be taken off. Once the last shoe hits the ground, Jaehyun pushes you against the wall, fumbling with the buttons of your blouse as he sucks onto your bottom lip. You envelop your hands over his and put it on his chest to let him take his clothes off so you can take off yours smoothly. You can feel a small smile growing on his lips and you pull slightly back.

“I just can’t believe that you’re here with me right now,” he whispers against your lips.

“And I’m here forever,” you coo, reaching for his hand. You lead him to your bedroom, occasionally looking back at him to give him a sly smile. As soon as you’re about to turn the lights on, Jaehyun stops you.

“Leave them off, I love looking at you when the moonlight is shining on your glistening skin,” his voice lowers and it makes your legs go weak.

And just like that, clothes were shed like a second skin and now Jaehyun towered above you. What a wonderful sight to see after a few years. Your fingers trailed from his chest, down to his abdominals, feeling each straining muscle against your fingertips, until it was met with his manhood. Your eyes innocently glanced up at him when you gently grabbed his cock, pressuring the tip just a bit before bringing your hand to it, rubbing it in your palm.

“Oh, baby, you always know how to make me feel good,” Jaehyun lowers himself until he’s groaning in your ear.

You know you’re doing a pleasing job when you feel the tough grip on your hips and when the other hand comes to your core. Jaehyun lets out a little scoff when he realizes how wet you already were.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers in your ear.

“Only for y-you,” you stutter, “oh shit,” your back arches when Jaehyun plunges two fingers in without any warning. Both of your hands shoot up to hold onto his arms as he finds a quick pace for his fingers, occasionally circling his thumb on your clit.

“Baby, baby,” Jaehyun hums as he lowers himself onto his free elbow to litter you with hickies across your neck, later leading to your chest.

Everything is blurred and everything is going so fast, you’re almost convinced that this isn’t even happening, that this is just another dream of yours. You struggle to relax as Jaehyun stops in his tracks, which results in you shooting up to prop yourself on your elbows to only see Jaehyun lowering himself down to your dripping, wet core.

This is definitely not a dream. You let out a loud moan when Jaehyun presses his hot tongue against your core, letting his teeth gently nip at the lips of your pussy.

“Tell me, angel,” the vibrations of his voice shoots pleasure through your spine, “did you fuck anyone while you were here?” You wince when he doesn’t hear an answer from you and harshly pats your pussy. “I don’t like being ignored, you know that, don’t you?” a smirk stretches across his face seeing you sexually frustrated, but you persistently nod.

“I-I did,” you let out another wince when he carefully slaps it again. Jaehyun shakes his head, almost in disappointment, but you pay no attention to it because you’re so aroused at this point that you just need to feel him in you.

“Bad girl,” he shakes his head as he lowers himself back down. His hot breath fans across your clit, making you involuntarily clench around nothing, and Jaehyun notices it but shakes his head.

“Please,” you groan, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“So you’ve been a busy girl, huh?” He mumbles against your pussy.

“Yes, yes, I have been. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you’re in a frenzy. Five years and you haven’t felt his touch, at this point, you feel like he’s just mocking you at this point, “please let me feel you.”

The ability of his tongue is superior to every man you’ve decided to entangle yourself with, no one could match how well Jaehyun could make you feel. And tonight, you were ready to give all of you to him.

“J-Jaehyun,” you drag out, “I’m-”

“What do you want, baby?” Jaehyun asks, looking at you from below.

“E-eat me out.”

Jaehyun lifts himself until he’s hovering over you, there’s darkness in his eyes, foreshadowing that he won’t be gentle. “You have to ask nicely.” he snickers, bringing a hand down to rub your clit, fast.

Your eyes widen from the surprise feeling, a gasp comes out of your mouth and your back arches, your perking nipples touching his chest. Jaehyun seems to notice because he brings his other free hand and pinches it, rolling it between his fingers. You close your eyes, blinded by the feeling and the power he has over you. You’d let him ruin you any way he wants.

“Want...you to...eat. Me. Out, please, please, please,” you’re impatient as you finish your command, sounding snappy, but Jaehyun gives in because he enjoys how needy you sound.

He lowers himself until he’s face to face with your sex again, the wetness and clenching of it arouse him and he doesn’t hesitate to bring his mouth to it, instantly sucking your pussy. You release a loud whine, your hands shooting to his hair. You didn’t expect him to be so rough on you so soon. But he is and as he licks the wetness, drawing circles on your clit simultaneously.

“You taste so good, angel,” he coos, pulling away for a split second before lapping onto your sex again, this time thrusting his tongue in you. The feeling of his tongue fucking you has your stomach tightening, so close to snapping. He lets his tongue explore your walls as he pinches your nipples, forcing them to perk up more than they could.

Jaehyun knows you’re about to climax when your hips begin to rise and your legs start to close in beside his head, but knowing how sensitive you are, Jaehyun gently presses your hips down and pries your legs until they’re as far as your flexibility allows it to go before returning to his deed.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse, sweat beading down your temple. Soon, your coil snaps and you’re shaking in Jaehyun’s grasps, but he gives you no time to come down from your high as he instantly thrusts his cock into you. You gasp, eyes widening as you hold onto him, your hands searching for any kind of leverage on him.

Jaehyun lowers his head into the crook of your neck, kissing it as he thrusts harshly against you. He hears your loud winces above him and he supports himself on his elbows, seeing tears on both sides of your face. “I can stop,” he whispers, afraid that he might’ve been overstimulating you too much.

You persistently shake your head, the pain is a bit overwhelming but the pleasure is worth it. “Please don’t,” you croak, bringing Jaehyun back down to you.

He fucks you like the angel you are, praises fumbling from his lips, “you’re so good, baby. You feel so fucking good.”; “No one feels good as much as you do.”; “God I fucking love you and your tight pussy.” praise after praise has you in a trance as he fucks you dumb.

Jaehyun pulls out and you whine from the empty feeling, cold air reaching your sensitive sex. But he lifts you by the hips, his grasp tight on you as he turns you over, lifting you until you’re on all fours. Jaehyun brings his hand hard on your ass, “promise me you won’t fuck anyone anymore unless he’s me,” he commands with a growl in his voice.

“I promise,” you whine, voice desert dry.

Content in your words, Jaehyun thrusts into you from behind. You let out an elongated cry, his tip reaching farther into you, hitting that sweet, sweet spot repeatedly. His grip on your hips tightens as you look forward to the bruises in your hips the next day.

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” Jaehyun hums, “still tight for me after all these years.”

You moan when he reaches for your breast, kissing your back in doing so. A moan escapes your throat, “only for you. Only for you,” you repeat, closing your eyes.

Jaehyun knows you’re dazed, your words are barely coherent, your pants are almost louder than your moans, and he knows you can barely hold yourself up, noticing at your shaking limbs. So, he wraps his arms around your hot, sweaty body and brings you up until your back is pressed against his chest. You groan from the new position that he puts you in, almost as satisfying as the previous one. Jaehyun gently kisses your shoulder and the place where it meets your neck while he rams into you, his actions contradicting. Nonetheless, it holds so much love. Vulnerable, naked bodies pressed together in the moonlight from Paris that illuminates your bedroom. You’re making love with the love of your life and how much of a roller coaster it took to finally get to this point.

“I love you,” you bring your hands around to his hair, combing your fingers through it, earning a groan from your tugging, “I love you so, so much. I love you and only you” you don’t know if your cry comes from the overwhelming feeling of your emotions or the fact that he’s vigorously ramming into you, reaching so far into you, making you feel like you could crumble in that instant.

“I’m close angel,” he moans in your ear.

“In me, come in me,” you beg, squeezing your eyes closed because you know you’re almost there too.

Jaehyun reaches down to your abused sex and draws circles around your sensitive bud, making you arch away from him, but he’s close to bringing you back to his sweating body. Soon you can feel that coil in your stomach snaps. Both of you let out a series of moans and curses and after staying like that for a bit, Jaehyun brings you down on the bed. He lays next to you catching his breath while holding you as you gasp for more, your body twitching from time to time as it calms down.

“You did well, my love,” he kisses your forehead, staying there for a few seconds, “and I love you too.”

Jaehyun doesn’t know whether or not you finally fell asleep, but he slowly pulls back to get a glance at you. In such a time like this, he thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, hair sticking out in various directions as some stuck to your forehead, your swollen lips that sit plumply on your face, the rare beads of sweat that sat on your temples, and the red flush that blushes your face. Everything about this, about you, is perfect for him. It’s a familiar feeling for him when he holds you, kisses you, makes love to you and it takes him a while until he finally realizes that you are his home.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up, but you know it must be around the early afternoon from the fresh sunlight that sneaks through your curtains. You remember the events from yesterday, going out to dinner with your friends, seeing Jaehyun, making love with Jaehyun and that’s when you feel the pair of arms around your waist move just a bit, which confirms that yesterday really wasn’t just another fever dream. With a smile on your face, you turn yourself until you’re facing him. What a beautiful man you managed to get involved with, again. You giggle a little bit when he stirs in his sleep, slightly pouting and you can’t help yourself but peck his lips a couple of times to wake him up.

Your fingers comb through his hair as he struggles to open his eyes, “Hey, sleepyhead,” you laugh.

“Good morning, my love,” whenever Jaehyun calls you that, it makes your heart flip. You felt ridiculous that such a word can make you feel like you're back in high school, experiencing your first, real crush.

“It’s the afternoon,” you mumble, reaching for your phone but he’s quick to wrap his strong arms around your body to keep you close to him.

It’s just like you never left like there wasn’t a whopping five years of nights where you missed being held by him. For you, everything fell back in place. For you, it felt like you were finally back home.

“Hey,” Jaehyun clears his throat and you back away because for a split second you could hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Yeah?”

With those dark chocolate orbs of his, Jaehyun looks down at you and you’ve never felt more alive in your years of living. He was only two years older than you, and you’re both still considered young, but he’s convinced that you’re the love of his life. You hope that what he says is something good, because after all of this, what would be the point?

“Will you marry me?”

You shot back, completely shocked with your mouth opened and your eyes wide. You really weren’t expecting such a proposal so soon, especially after seeing him for the first/second time in five years. You’re taken aback and completely speechless, you’re stunned and you think you’re losing it until Jaehyun calls out your name.

“Yes,” you reply, “yes, yes, yes!!! Let's get married!” You gleam, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight embrace.

Jaehyun pulls away from your waist and gives you a sincere look, “I know it’s not the ideal proposal, but I promise when we get back home, I’ll do it right. I’ll do everything right this time,” he declares.

“Oh honey,” you cup his cheek, “there’s nothing you did wrong, we all make mistakes and go through hard times. I’m just glad it all led me back to you.” you lean forward to kiss his forehead as he embraces you again.

It’s time, you were finally getting married to Jaehyun. And for real this time, no contract, no business, just love.

“By the power given to me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss each other. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Jung!”

Cheers throughout the venue fades as Jaehyun leans into your lips, a smile adorning his face as he places a gentle kiss on your lips. Flower petals are thrown in the air and smiles are exchanged between each side of the family.

And after the reception, dinner, first dance, cutting of the cake, bouquet tossing, and after everything fate has put you through, everyone bids you goodbye as you and Jaehyun run out of the reception hall. With the sparklers in their hands, complimenting the sunset in front of you, the cheers of encouragement sing through your ears as Jaehyun opens the car door for you. As he gets in, he gives you a teasing chaste kiss, before waving off to everyone and riding into the sunset.

You always had faith in fate, each decision has its own consequences and leads you on different paths. You often think to yourself if you had chosen a different path, where would it lead you? Would it lead you to the same ending? Or would you end up in a different place? And would the person you love the most be there? Yes. The answer is yes, wherever you go, you’re convinced Jaehyun will always be there. He will follow you like the sun and the moon, he will love you like how the moon leaves to let the sun breathe. Jaehyun will love you to the best of his abilities because you taught him to love himself. He’s almost convinced that you saved his life and he couldn’t be more grateful to have someone like you by his side.

Life was always good at never going the way you wanted it to. Like your mother said, “life isn’t fair,” yet at the time she said it, you were too young and only took it as a grain of salt. Little did you know, the world will throw you in several different directions, the world will bash you, judge you, and sometimes make you feel like it hates you. But when you find love, kindness, and forgiveness within yourself and others, everything that brought darkness will complement the light, showing how sometimes bad things happen so you can grow. Life is hard and no one said it was going to be easy, but right now, life is good. Life is great when you’re with Jung Jaehyun.

Fin.

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Pep Talks 12

I think this might be the longest chapter of Pep Talks so far...

(AO3)

When Clockwork first took Danny on as an apprentice, he’d laid out some ground rules for when he unexpectedly found himself in an unknown timeline. As Apprentice of Time, Danny was more likely to attract anomalies like natural portals and the like, and when that was combined with his innate bad luck regarding portals, well… winding up in weird places wasn’t quite a weekly occurrence, but saying it was wouldn’t have been a huge exaggeration.

That’s all to say, Danny appreciated the rules. He didn’t want to wind up never having been born again, or, worse, making it so that one of his friends had never been born. Or causing an apocalypse. Or wrecking the future. Or—

There were just a lot of problems that he could, and had, caused.

If Clockwork were able to pick Danny up right away every time, most of the rules probably would have been unnecessary. But he wasn’t. Mostly because of physics-shaped problems involving paradoxes and how too many time portals in the same general area could screw things up, but also because of Observant- and politics-shaped problems. And, Clockwork had admitted to Danny, sometime Clockwork left him somewhere because he was supposed to be there.

The first rule was to lay low. Avoid people when possible, except to acquire basic necessities. Avoid major events, crowds, protests, and cameras. Avoid important-looking buildings.

Do not offer help unless asked first, or unless the person is a ghost. There was, evidently, a loophole that made it okay for Danny to interact with ghosts even in places where it wasn’t okay for him to do the same to humans. Clockwork had said ghosts fell under Danny’s ‘jurisdiction,’ a term that seemed just a bit too weighty with meaning for Danny. As for being allowed to help when asked… Well, Clockwork knew that Danny was incapable of not helping. Although he did ask that Danny be subtle and indirect about it.

He was also not supposed to fight anyone unless he himself was directly attacked, for similar reasons.

The fourth rule was to stay within the accepted rules of the world he found himself in, where possible. In other words, if people generally didn’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural, don’t challenge that belief by using his powers in public, but if superpowers were common, it was okay to use them.

The fifth was that, if he found himself in the past, leave civilized areas. With the threat of unpersoning himself hanging over his head, Danny took that one very seriously.

The sixth, the one that made Danny feel like a little kid despite his real age, was, if the previous rule didn’t apply, try to stay in the same general area he first found himself in.

There were others, of course, and special ones for special circumstances. For example, if he was captured by law enforcement, or injured, or actively in danger, or if he didn’t know what time period he was in. Different sets of rules prevailed if he was actually on a mission.

Clockwork had also told him that the rules no loner applied if it took him more than two weeks to find Danny. That, if he’d been waiting for that long, something had gone wrong, or Clockwork was unable to find him or pull him out.

It had been just under half that time, and Danny was starting to get worried. More worried.

He pulled his legs up, closer to himself. He didn’t need to conserve warmth, being what he was, but the action was comforting and the abandoned warehouse he was in was weird and creepy.

This whole timeline was weird and creepy. Also, semi-apocalyptic. They were going through some serious societal upheaval. Danny wasn’t entirely sure why, having only been here for six days, but he was pretty sure it had to do with the nascent ghosts partially overshadowing people and giving them power.

At least, that’s what it felt like. Danny wasn’t sure. The next nearest thing to this he’d ever encountered was a warlock, and that had been just one person. Ghosts were under his jurisdiction, but, like the warlock, the people with powers here didn’t quite feel like ghosts, and he wasn’t sure how trustworthy news sources saying that metahumans were all soulless degenerates were…

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to find out. Hopefully, Clockwork would pick him up before another week went by.

He didn’t think the government here could actually catch him, but some of the things they apparently did to metahumans made his core ache. It was a very X-Men-like situation. Except, well, set in Japan.

Why Japan?

But! Eight more days. Tops. Clockwork would get him.

Before he’d finished the thought, something blew the door of the warehouse in and a ropelike appendage hurtled towards Danny’s corner.

He reacted. Rules were, if someone attacked him, he could respond in kind, and if superpowers were common knowledge, he could use his.

There were at least a dozen of them, all of them displaying an eclectic array of superpowers, some reminiscent of Danny’s ghostly enemies, others entirely novel to him. A fair few also had guns. One man even used multiple powers. Needless to say, the battle was incredibly one sided.

In Danny’s favor.

Hey, he’d been doing this for years, and he was very comfortable with his abilities. Most of these guys weren’t. Most. The multiple-power guy had been challenging.

Danny examined his captives. He should probably just knock them out, then go find a new hideout somewhere else, but he wanted to know why he was attacked, first.

“So,” he said, deciding that the curly-haired man with multiple powers was probably the leader, given the way the battle had been structured, “why did you and your goons attack me?”

“I heard you were like me,” growled the man, attempting to escape Danny’s telekinetic hold. “I’m looking for a power that can help my brother.”

Danny twitched slightly at the word help. “What do you mean, like you?”

“You can take powers, too,” said the man, staring up at Danny with desperate, hungry, red eyes.

Danny blinked, frowned. “You thought I could help you, or your brother, so you attacked me?” His frown became deeper. “Or did you attack me to, what, steal my powers?”

The man squirmed.

It was. That was such a ridiculous villain cliché, although the brother thing was a twist. People could get desperate about their families and do terrible things.

Including Danny. As had been proven many, many times.

His heart and stance both softened. This counted as a request for help, right? And the guy was sort of ghostly. On the other hand… Transplanting whatever it was giving these people powers willy-nilly couldn’t be healthy, especially if it was related to ghosts.

(Multiple ghosts in one body… It reminded him of his dark future self, which was never good.)

“Okay,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright. What exactly does your brother need help with?”

The man clearly hadn’t expected Danny to ask this question. “He’s sick,” he said. His eyes gleamed at the edge of tears. “His body is tearing itself apart, DNA molecule by DNA molecule. If I could just find the right ability, I could save him,” the man’s voice broke, “I knowit.”

Molecule by molecule, huh?

Actually… that was something Danny could help with. Crud. People had powers here, right? He was being asked for help, wasn’t he? He was staying within the rules. Especially seeing as these guys were like warlocks. He was only doing warlock stuff.

“If I help you with this—if,” he stressed when the man perked up. “If I help you with this, I need two things from you. Well, three, really. Actually, no, four.”

“Name them,” declared the man.

“Yeah, I was about to,” said Danny. “Anyway, first, you need to ask your brother if he wants this. If he doesn’t, you have to come back here and return it. Asap. As in, tomorrow.” He was pretty sure he could get Clockwork to give him a day, even if he came to pick Danny up right now.

“Those are your first two conditions, then?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. Third one is, you have to stop taking powers from people who don’t give you permission. The end of that road isn’t pretty.” At least, he was pretty sure it wasn’t. All those little maybe-ghosts, slammed together… Even if it didn’t have any immediate effect on this guy’s personality, the resulting ghost could wind up possessing him. If the ghost vaguely wanted to go with him, that might change things. Maybe. At least, it’d slow things down.

If this worked the way he thought it did.

The man scowled. “And you know this, how?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Look, you’rethe one who said I was like you, not me. Too much of these powers can mess you up.”

“If the number is the problem, it shouldn’t matter how I take them.”

“Do you ever get bad dreams?”

The man stilled completely. “What do you know about that?”

Danny shrugged. “Enough,” he said. “Do you want to be overwhelmed by your powers? Do you want to explode? It could happen.” Actually, Danny had no idea if it could happen or not. But it sounded good. “More importantly, do you want to help your brother or not?”

“Of course I do!”

“Great!” said Danny, clapping his hands together. “Let’s finish this up somewhere privately, okay?” He grabbed the man’s shoulder and phased them through the floor into the basement, which he lit with a ball of ectoplasm. “Okay,” he said. “Fourth thing.”

The man was staring at the ectoplasm with undisguised curiosity. “What is it? Money? A new identity? Passage out of the country?”

“Uh, no,” said Danny. What would he do with any of that, after all? “I need to know the full story behind you and your brother.”

“What? Why? Don’t you know enough?”

“So that I can be sure that I can help, first off. Also, the way I’d be doing it involved me giving you something rather personal, so…” He trailed off with a gesture that indicated he expected the man to talk.

He sighed. “My name is Shigaraki Hisashi. My brother’s name is Kazuki, and he’s been sick since we were children…”

Danny let him give a summary of his life up until this point. He had the vague feeling that he wasn’t being told everything of importance, but, then, not everything about a person’s life could be condensed into an hour or so of storytelling.

Apparently Hisashi had basically raised Kazuki, and once Hisashi’s meta power had come in as a young adult, they’d been completely abandoned by their parents. Hisashi had put together a group of freedom fighters (Danny skeptically recalled the guns, but also forced himself to remember the hints that there might be something like concentration camps for power users) to defend himself, his brother, and others with power. But Kazuki’s illness made him incredibly vulnerable, and as he was Hisashi’s one major weakness…

The feeling that he was living through an ‘X-Men Japan’ comic intensified. He felt so sorry for this guy. Danny knew what this kind of life was like.

“Alright,” he said, softly, finally, “I can help. And, this probably doesn’t mean anything coming from me, but that better world you were talking about? Where people with powers and people without can coexist? I think you’ll be able to make it happen. Just don’t let anyone stop you.”

“I don’t intend to.”

Danny nodded. “I can give you something to help your brother. A power,” he clarified. “But I need you to know, it could change him.”

“Change him?”

“His personality.”

“You were saying something about that before. Forgive me if I don’t agree with you. These powers are tools.”

“Okay, sure, but even just having more options can influence how a person behaves. Just warn him before you give it to him, okay?”

“Of course. I’m a man of my word, after all.”

“Right,” said Danny. “Give me your hand.”

“A handshake?” asked Hisashi.

“Not exactly.”

Danny let a minuscule, almost microscopic, piece of his core break free from the whole. It hurt like a knife to the chest, and some of his physical and mental abilities would be impaired for a while, but he had done it before, and it would heal before long. A fragment this size would give a power on par with those he’d seen so far in this world. It would also grow, of course, but it was unlikely for any human to live long enough for that to become a problem.

He let it pass into Hisashi, and the man shivered.

“That should strengthen his body without being too much of a burden on him,” said Danny.

“What kind of power is it?” asked Hisashi, reclaiming his hand and flexing his fingers.

“Uh,” said Danny, casting about for something vague that would fit. “A gradual stockpile of power. That enhances the user’s body.” That should be close enough. “Remember, ask first.”

“I will, I will,” assured Hisashi one more time. “And you can be sure I’ll be returning regardless, to thank you.”

“Uh huh.”

It took a while for Hisashi and his men to clear out. Longer still for Danny to find a new place to sleep. But he did.

He woke to a time medallion around his neck and Clockwork’s exasperated expression. “Daniel,” he said, “what did you do?”

Toshinori and Izuku stared at Danny with open mouths.

“You’re the original stockpile user?” yelled Izuku, pointing.

Danny smiled sheepishly. “Surprise?”

#danny phantom #bnha #dp/bnha #dp/bnha crossover #pep talks

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lightsupinthenorth · 3 years

Text

Damn it, I’m calling you mine

Read on AO3

When Alternate-Mobius (as Loki has taken to calling the Mobius from this timeline in his head) comes to get him out of his cell and lead him to one of the interrogation rooms for the umpteenth time in however long it is he has been stuck in this cursed timeline, Loki lets himself be dragged there without protesting.

Protesting got old fairly quickly, considering it accomplished nothing at all. It doesn’t even get on the nerves of the TVA agents and hunters as it did in the timeline Loki left against his will.

Alternate-Mobius’ grip on his forearm is firm, firmer than it usually is. As if he were afraid Loki was going to make a run for it. As if Loki were stupid enough to think it would be of any use, after all this time. Loki would be insulted if he could muster enough energy for such an emotion.

As soon as they’re inside the interrogation room, Alternate-Mobius locks the door behind them. That’s new, too. Loki’s eyebrows raise slightly, but Loki doesn’t question Alternate-Mobius. What is even the point? He’ll know soon enough what the man is trying to do. Probably.

Alternate-Mobius fiddles with his TemPad for a few seconds and a familiar orange portal opens in front of them.

“Follow me.”

Loki nods, ready to obey, but Alternate-Mobius doesn’t move. Instead, he opts to stare at Loki with a frown on his face.

“Really? You’d follow me just like that? You’re not even going to question it?”

It’s Loki’s turn to frown. Why would Alternate-Mobius ask such a useless question? Has he yet to register how Loki’s fire has died out ages ago?

He shrugs.

“Okay then, let’s go…”

Loki swears he hears Alternate-Mobius mumble “what the fuck have they done to him?”, but he doesn’t have time to think about it any further before he’s pulled by Alternate-Mobius through the time-portal.

Before Loki can blink, he’s in a living-room with Alternate-Mobius by his side. All he can focus on apart from that is his own confusion.

He hadn’t known what to expect, but he hadn’t been expecting something this benign.

“Where are we?”

“Oh, so you still have some questions then. Thank God, you had me worried for a second over there.”

Loki, instead of unpacking what Alternate(?)-Mobius just said, glares at him until he relents.

“We’re at my flat, it’s a long story, I’ll explain everything later. First, tell me if you’re okay.”

His gaze travels the length of Loki’s body, as if he’s assessing damage, and then he’s staring right into his eyes. Maybe he’s searching for the damage in his soul, then. There’s a lot to find, without a doubt.

The concern that radiates off of the man brings a realisation to life in Loki.

“Mobius?”

Of course, it’s Mobius. Alternate-Mobius is also Mobius. But what Loki is really asking is “are you my Mobius?” Because that’s how he thinks of the first version of Mobius he got to meet. He can’t ask that, though. Mobius couldn’t possibly react to such blatant (and misplaced) possessiveness in a positive manner.

“Yes.”

Loki wants to take the simple answer at face value, but he has to be sure. He has to be sure he’s got this right. He couldn’t cope if he accepted this as true only to have his fragile hope ripped away from him later.

Sylvie betrayed him, sending him to an alternate timeline where everything that had become familiar to him at the TVA was here and not here at the same time. It had been torture. Especially seeing Alternate-Mobius constantly. The other version of Mobius only served to remind Loki of what – of whom – he had lost.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

It’s not comfortable, being on this side of lies. Loki has a lot of experience as a liar and as the one being lied to. He far prefers the first configuration, it has to be said.

“What would I gain by taking you here and lying about which version of me I am?”

“Seriously Mobius, now is not the time to answer a question with another question.”

Loki is dead on his feet. He cannot fathom how he manages to stay standing. He fears it will not last much longer.

“I… I don’t know. Ask me something only your Mobius would know.”

Loki blinks a few times, trying to come to terms with this Mobius (whichever he is) saying “your Mobius” like this. Like it’s easy. Like it’s an evidence.

It turns out that Loki worried for nothing, earlier, when he kept himself from asking if this Mobius was his.

After a small eternity, Loki focuses on Mobius’ request instead of on this insignificant (but not for him) detail.

“How did we find out Sylvie was hiding in Haven Hills, Alabama?”

Loki could have asked Mobius a lot of things, but this question seems like a good option. No one knows about this but them. Loki doubts Mobius put it in the reports or mentioned it to anyone, because it’s just a detail, a clue that led them to Sylvie. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But Loki remembers it, and he’d bet his Mobius would too. The elation they felt when they reached their goal is not something that can be forgotten easily, after all. At least, Loki hopes not.

“We found out because you’re clever and we make a great team, but I don’t see how that’s gonna convince you I’m your Mobius.”

Loki feels winded by Mobius’ words. The praise, the acknowledgment of their partnership, and the “your Mobius” (for the second time in a matter of minutes). However, he can’t let himself lose his focus.

“That’s very nice of you to compliment me, and we do make a rather spectacular team. But I’m asking you about the clue which led us to the right location.”

“Oh, you mean Kablooie?”

As soon as Loki registers the words, his knees buckle and he might have fallen down if Mobius weren’t there to steady him. He extends his arms and Loki instantly grabs them. His heart is beating so fast he’d fear a heart attack if he were human.

“It’s really you.”

Loki hears his own voice crack with relief, and his eyes fill with tears.

“It’s really me.”

Loki didn’t need the confirmation, but it is so on brand for Mobius to give it to him anyway that Loki gets the impulse to throw his arms around him and bury his face in his neck. He tries to resist the impulse for a mere second before giving up entirely and engulfing his Mobius in a (perhaps overly) tight hug.

Mobius wraps his arms around Loki in return, hugging him back. That’s when the tears begin to fall in earnest. Before he knows it, Loki is sobbing uncontrollably in Mobius’ embrace. It’s most undignified and he’s probably ruining Mobius’ shirt, but Loki’s too far gone to care. Anyway, Mobius has seen most of his life when he was working for the TVA, and Loki’s done his fair share of embarrassing things. This is not the worst one, by far.

Being vulnerable is still difficult for him, but he has no control over himself right now, so vulnerability is the only way to go.

Mobius has an armful of crying god, and he’s taking it in stride if he does say so himself. He’s been looking for Loki for so long, he’s been through so much to find him that he’s prepared to accept anything Loki throws at him now that they’re finally reunited.

“There, there. It’s going to be okay now.”

Mobius continues to whisper reassurances in Loki’s ear until Loki’s sobs subside. Mobius is loath to break their embrace, but they can’t possibly stay like this much longer considering Loki has looked on the verge of keeling over ever since he got up from the floor of his cell. When he saw him, Mobius had to make a conscious effort to reign in a gasp (the hunters guarding Loki’s cell would have found that mightily suspicious coming from the Mobius he was then pretending to be). Loki is thinner, there are bags under his eyes, and his skin has taken a blueish tint which, rather than being reminiscent of his origins, looks sickly. Now that Loki’s finally safe, Mobius wants nothing more than to take care of him and nurse him back to health.

“We should probably sit down. Would that be alright?”

Mobius can feel Loki nod, but Loki makes no move to separate himself from him.

Okay. Mobius can work around that.

He slowly walks them to the couch without letting go of Loki. They fall on it rather gracelessly, and Loki immediately rearranges himself so he’s lying down with his head face down on Mobius’ lap and one of his hand gripping his knee. He wishes Loki would let him see his face, but it certainly isn’t the time for requests.

Mobius passes the fingers of his left hand through Loki’s messy hair and Loki shivers against him.

“Is this okay?”

Loki’s only reply is a hum. Mobius interprets it as acquiescence, so he repeats the motion again, and again, and again. To comfort himself as much as Loki.

“Do you want something to drink? Or eat?”

Loki’s grip on Mobius’ knee tightens and he whimpers. Mobius’ stomach drops.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I… I’m fine. Just… can we stay here for a while?” Loki’s voice is hoarse and tentative, as if he were expecting Mobius to turn him down. As if it were a credible outcome. Preposterous.

“Of course, anything you want. But, please let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

Loki hums again, and Mobius goes back to playing with his hair.

It must be hours before either of them speaks again. Loki’s turned around by now, so he’s facing Mobius while still resting his head on his lap.

“Do you have a bathtub?”

“I do.”

“I could go for a bath… But…”

He’s reluctant to voice his desires. He’s been attached to Mobius as a barnacle to a rock for longer than he can tell, and Mobius must be tired of him by now. Maybe he’s been tired during this entire display of neediness and has only tolerated it for Loki’s sake. Mobius is decent enough that it doesn’t sound particularly far-fetched.

“But what? Go on.”

“Would you… would you mind staying with me while I’m in the bath?”

“Sure.”

Mobius looks unphased, but Loki still needs to ask:

“Are you sure it’s no bother? I know I’m being clingy and…”

Mobius interrupts him:

“Rest assured, you’re only the one clinging to me because you beat me to it. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore than you want to be apart from me.”

Loki frowns, as if facing a puzzle he can’t quite solve.

“Really?”

“Of course. Why do you think I looked for you for months?”

And it makes sense, from an objective point of view. It’s a wonder Loki can’t wrap his head around it.

“Oh” is all he has to say.

“Yeah, oh.”

Loki will wonder later how exactly Mobius managed to rescue him. He’s not strong enough to deal with that conversation at the moment.

“Come on, let’s get that bath running.” Mobius says, sitting up straighter.

Loki gets the message and pulls himself up. He only loses physical contact with Mobius for a handful of seconds before he reaches for his hand and slide his fingers between Mobius’.

They walk to the bathroom hand in hand and Mobius only lets go when Loki has to undress. Mobius looks away until he’s in the bath, hidden by the bubbles. It’s a sweet, if useless (Mobius probably saw Loki naked in countless occurrences on the TVA tapes), gesture.

Loki would ask Mobius to join him if he had the courage. He can’t find it in himself. He’s been bold enough as it is. Besides, it would definitely cross the line. To be honest with himself, he’s not sure this line exists anymore, but he ought to pretend it still does. For Mobius’ sake, if not for his own.

“Can I wash your hair?”

The prospect of Mobius’ gentle hands back in his hair is a pleasant one, to say the least. So, Loki immerses himself in the bath to wet his hair and comes back up, before replying:

“Please, be my guest”, trying for a teasing smile that probably comes out looking wrong.

Mobius returns Loki’s fond smile, relieved to finally see a positive emotion displayed on this beautiful face.

He grabs his bottle of shampoo from the edge of the bathtub and squeezes some of it into his palm. It’s cheap stuff, with a cheap artificial apple scent. Surely not up to Loki’s standards. However, Mobius doesn’t reckon he’ll care after his forced stay in the Alternate-TVA.

When he starts rubbing the shampoo into Loki’s hair, Loki shivers again, and then moans. Mobius puts the reaction in a corner of his brain so he can examine it later. It might be a thing.

Mobius takes his time (which is to say, he takes far more time than is necessary), before he finally requests:

“Bend forward and close your eyes for me, please.”

Loki complies without a second thought, and warmth spread inside Mobius at the display of trust.

“Good boy.” Mobius says it without thinking, as he’s reaching for the hand shower.

Loki tenses up, and Mobius instantly regrets the words. They’re out, though, there’s no calling them back.

Thankfully, before Mobius can go into a full-blown panic caused by his own stupidity, Loki relaxes again, even though his breathing is now laboured.

That’s quite a lot to unpack there. Mobius will make sure to come back to it in the future. Until then, he focuses on rinsing Loki’s hair without making a mess. He then wrings the excess water out of it as gently as he can and grabs a towel from the rack attached to the wall.

He hands it to Loki and looks away again to give him some semblance of privacy. He hears Loki get up and say:

“It’s okay, you can look. I don’t mind.”

Mobius should decline, but he’s too weak. It’s so hard to not keep his eyes on Loki constantly when he has just got him back.

So, Mobius looks at him, and instantly notices Loki’s lower torso is covered in bruises. They’re stark against Loki’s skin, which is now back to its usual paleness, sans blueish tint.

Mobius must have visibly reacted, though he’s not aware of it, because Loki takes a glance down his own body and flinches.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

“Don’t apologize. Not for that.”

Loki’s mouth clicks shut.

Once Loki’s dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants (both black, thankfully) that he borrowed from Mobius, he brushes his teeth with a spare toothbrush.

Then, Mobius manages to talk him into eating something and having a cup of herbal tea (camomile), even though it ruins the point of the aforementioned toothbrushing.

What would he not do to appease Mobius and keep him from worrying? Loki prefers not to know.

They retire to bed soon after that, tangling together under Mobius’ fluffy comforter. Loki’s about to fall asleep, lulled by the repetitive motion of Mobius’ fingers running lines on his back, when Mobius speaks:

“I… I know I should let you rest before broaching this topic but… I won’t be able to think about anything else all night if I don’t ask…”

Loki’s tempted to tell him to spit it out, but he refrains, letting Mobius continue at his own rhythm.

“The other me… is he the one who, you know… the bruises?”

“No. He wasn’t particularly nice, but he was never outright cruel to me.” That much could not be said about many other agents of the Alternate-TVA, but Loki refuses to get into that. “Nevertheless, he was… wrong in so many ways.”

Mobius’ hand stops moving up and down his back.

“How so?”

“He was... different. He hated Josta, he didn’t care about jet skis, he was right-handed… He was cold, warier of me than you were, and a bigger stickler for the rules. He… he just wasn’t you.”

His Mobius was everything this other Mobius wasn’t to Loki. He was trustworthy. He brought him hope. Because he had seen Loki, he knew almost everything that could be known about him, and still he believed he could be someone good. The other Mobius had not witnessed any of Loki’s numerous lies and betrayals, and still he trusted him far less than his Mobius did despite every piece of evidence proving he should not.

Loki can’t comprehend the undeserved trust Mobius has for him, but he is grateful it exists.

“He sounds like a jackass.”

Loki lets out a teary laugh.

“He was. Thank you for rescuing me from him.”

“You’re very welcome. I needed it as much as you did, anyway.”

“You’ll tell me how you did it, right? Tomorrow?”

“Anything you want”, Mobius says for the second time that day.

And, by the Norns, does Loki want. He wants so much.

He raises his head from Mobius chest and places his lips on his. He keeps it brief, pulling back before Mobius has time to react. The line is crossed, annihilated. What can Loki say? He’s never been good at denying himself what he wants.

“Was that okay?”

Mobius exhales slowly, his body going lax after tensing up from the surprise.

“More than.”

“Good.”

They stop talking, then. Loki falls asleep in a matter of minutes, hopeful for the first time since Sylvie pushed him through a time-portal to get rid of him. Things are still a mess, but there’s a slight chance they’re going to be fine and, for now, that’s enough.

Thanks for reading ;

#Loki #Mobius #Lokius #fanfiction #hurt and comfort #Loki spoilers

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fanfic-collection · 3 years

Text

Loki x Pompeii!Reader

It's the Pompeii prompt, but really I wrote it as an excuse to have Loki be shirtless in a hot tub.

No regerts

The rush of blood filled your ears, drowning out the crowd around you. Your feet pounding on stone and your ragged breathing the only other noise you could make out as raced through the throngs of people.

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you saw the beast of a man was still after you.

Swallowing hard, your throat dry and burning, you forced your attention forward again.

Ducking around stalls and market vendors, past people and animals alike. On, he pursued you.

The wind was knocked out of you as you felt yourself collide with something solid. You had risked another glance back and did not see the sudden appearance of a man before you. To your surprise though, as the man knocked the wind out of you, catching you in his arms, he shifted his hold on you and spun you about. He had one hand on your upper back and another on your hip. Your hands instinctively moved to his chest, despite his strange clothes.

For just a moment though, as he held you in your arms, slowing your momentum, you spun around. But in that precious time, you gazed up into his face and met his eyes as he stared back at you. The two of you shared a stunned look.

The man had strange green eyes, sharp cheeks, black wavy hair and a tall forehead. He stared at you with an intensity like no other. His thin, pale lips parted slightly as he looked at you clearly confused.

Your face must have mirrored his.

The two of you stopped spinning.

He didn’t move his hands.

Nor did you. The strange material felt so odd under your hands and if you were being honest the broadness of his chest and the muscles… You felt your cheeks heat up and forced yourself to pull back.

A smirk crossed this strange man’s face as he gazed down at you, finally letting go of you.

“Loki! What are you doing? We’re not supposed to interact with the locals, you’re going to mess the timeline up even more.”

You looked over as a man with grey hair and similar clothes came running around the corner.

“Loki?” You asked.

“I am.” Loki smiled, seeming to like you saying his name. “And she ran into me, I merely prevented us from falling over.”

Abruptly you recalled why you were running.

Loki looked at you, seeming ready to ask you that same question.

Before you could speak, the beast of a man finally arrived, charging into the alleyway that the three of you were tucked away in. “Come here, you’re mine.” He reached for your wrist and you tugged away, kicking him as hard as you could. The brute snarled, holding up his hand to strike you with the back of it.

Loki stepped forward and caught it, “That’s enough.”

“Loki…” The grey haired man warned softly. “You know what’s going to happen, just let history progress as it should.”

“I won’t stand idly by and let thugs like this exist.” Loki responded coolly.

You looked between the men fearfully.

Loki held your gaze, “You’re safe, trust me.”

Slowly you nodded.

“Give me it, Mobius.”

“No.”

“Give me it or I’m taking it.”

“I’ll have to report you for defiance in the field.”

“Would you really do that?”

The man, Mobius, sighed, “Loki. Please.”

Still gripping the brute’s wrist, Loki held out his hand towards Mobius. Mobius sighed heavily and tossed a little box to Loki. Loki took the box and touched it to the brute’s arm. There was a soft whir and a flash of fire sparks and then… the brute was gone.

You squeaked, pulling away.

Loki lunged towards you, tossing the box in the same movement back to Mobius. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He said soothingly, “You’re fine, you’re safe, no one is going to hurt you.”

Held by both of Loki’s strong hands, you realized that despite what you had just seen, you did feel safe. Slowly you nodded.

Loki exhaled softly, a smile spreading on his face. “Now then.” He stepped back, removing his hands. Bowing low, he reached for your hand and pressed a soft kiss to it, his lips brushing across it feather light.

You found yourself giggling.

“I am Loki, at your assistance. God of Mischief, current employee of the Time Variance Association.”

You blinked at him.

“And who might you be?”

“Oh!” You scrambled to tell him your name as the man Mobius looked more and more uncomfortable.

“Loki, can we talk?” Mobius hissed. He grabbed Loki’s strange sleeve and dragged him a few feet away, lowering his voice to angrily yell. “What do you think you’re doing? The volcano is going to blow in three days. She’s going to be dead. Why are you making friendly with her? You’re jeopardizing the mission by getting buddy buddy with a local, and if we have to come back and do this again, we could throw even more timelines out of balance.”

The two men looked over at you.

“She heard everything I just said.”

“Oh most definitely.” Loki replied.

“Dammit.” Mobius cursed softly.

You waved at them.

“Look, just give me a little time with her and I’ll clear this whole thing up.”

“Yea? How?” Mobius retorted.

“I’m the god of mischief, I can be very convincing.”

Mobius rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, whatever. I’m going back to basecamp, but just, don’t screw this anymore than you already have.”

“How is this my fault? She ran into me!”

“It’s always your fault, Loki.” Mobius sighed and shook his head, turning and walking off.

You watched him walk away. “He seems…” Pursing your lips, you searched for the word.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Bureaucratic.”

You smiled at Loki. “So, uh, what’s this about me dying?”

Looking down at you, Loki picked at his hand, his eyebrows furrowed. “Nothing, come on. Show me Pompeii.”

“And last of all, this is where I live.” You announced, having given Loki a tour of the entire city.

Night had fallen by now and you were glad to be home. Standing on your doorstep, you were now even with Loki in height. The night chill had settled in and you found yourself slightly envious of Loki’s strange clothes, a jacket, to keep him warm.

Loki looked at the building from the outside with interest, his eyes roving the structure but lingering on you.

“Would you… would you like to see inside?” You offered shyly.

You saw a tinge of pink on Loki’s cheeks as his eyes met yours, “I don’t want to be untoward.”

“It’s just a tour.” You offered your hand to Loki and he stepped in after you, looking around the extravagant building.

Loki tilted his head as he followed after you.

“I’m the daughter of a Senator. He makes sure I’m well looked after.” You shrugged.

As you led Loki through the various rooms and halls, showing him the paintings, mosaics, servants hard at work, and even the gardens, he commented mildly, “Even I’m impressed.”

“Oh, even?” You retorted, unable to stop yourself from playfully shoving him.

Loki chuckled, “You might not believe it, but I am a prince.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Really? Of where?”

“It is a far off place, you would not know.”

“Uh-huh…” You started skeptically, then looked at his clothes and thought of the strange box.

“You don’t believe me?” Loki replied, staring at you intently.

“Actually I think I do.”

“Good, I would not lie to you.”

You hesitated, uncertain about his sincerity. The memory of the man, Mobius, talking about your death came back to mind. “Do you have a place to sleep?”

“I can find my way back to our camp.” Loki shrugged.

“That will not do.” You shook your head.

Loki raised his eyebrow, amused. “Oh?”

Your cheeks heated up again. “And your clothing needs washing. You cannot wear that again tomorrow without having it cleaned.”

Loki smirked.

You reached for the shirt collar and rubbed your thumb along it, there was a grey blemish. “Surely my servants can clean whatever this is.”

Opening and closing his mouth for a moment, Loki stopped, “I won’t stop them from trying. What do you suggest I wear in the meantime?”

“We have more reasonable things to wear, and surely you would like to take a soak, no?”

“A soak?”

“Yes. It is the house bath so you wouldn’t be alone…”

Loki turned his head, uncertainly.

“I figured, I might join you?” Your voice rose in pitch.

The smirk on Loki’s face widened and he hummed softly, “I think that would be delightful.”

Modesty shift wrapped around your torso, the servant helped you step into the hot water. Thoughts flashed across your mind on living in a society where such modesty items weren’t the norm. Your cheeks heated up and you knew it wasn’t from the water.

You sank down onto the bench grateful that your servants had kept the pool steaming for your arrival, no matter how late you would get home. Your hair was tied back to keep it out of the water and kept up. Laying back, you rested your eyes, wondering when your guest would arrive.

Were you being too forward? He had just saved you from a terrible fate. And there was no denying how interested you were in him, and not just because he was from some strange existence. This man was breathtaking, you had never seen a man in these lands as gorgeous as him.

There was a soft knocking at the door. “Mistress. Your guest.”

You opened your eyes and looked over, swallowing hard.

Loki stood beside the servant, a simple cloth wrapped around his waist. Your eyes roved over his muscular torso, toned abdomen, broad shoulders, strong arms and…

Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to say something.

“Loki! Wonderful, come, come, please join me.” Your voice was hoarse as you slid over from the stairs to the bath.

Watching him walk, how like a predatory cat he moved, his muscles rippling with each step. No movement was unnecessary, each step deliberate, like a hunter on the prowl, and then he was sitting beside you in the bath.

Sighing, Loki leaned back in the bath and let out a small groan as his muscles loosened in the warm water.

Your heart pounded a mile a minute as you forced a smile looking at him. One of the servants stood waiting in the shadows. “Servant, fetch some wine.” You croaked.

“Wine? I haven’t had good wine in ages.” Loki mused.

“We should change that.” You murmured.

Loki reached for your hand beneath the water, gently lifting it to the surface with both his hands. He gazed at you seriously as his fingers trailed along the palm of your hand then down to the delicate wrist vein. “Your heartbeat is so fast, darling.” He smiled, tilting his head. His black locks shifted with the movement. Carefully he moved your hand over the left side of your chest, just above your breast. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “And loud.”

You could feel your eyes shimmering as you stared up at him open mouthed. How you wished it was his hand and not yours in that place.

The door opened and Loki moved away, the spell broken.

A servant walked in, carrying a pitcher of wine and two goblets. He set down the pitcher and poured one goblet for each of you, before returning to his place in the shadows.

Loki moved opposite you, sipping his wine and stared, his gaze fixated on you. “This wine is incredible.” He purred. “Worthy of Asgard.”

“Asgard?”

“Where I was raised.”

“I have heard of no such place.”

“I am not surprised.”

“Is that where you are a prince?” You asked, reaching out and sliding your leg against his.

Loki smirked, “It is. It is where I am a god.”

“Careful, if the gods hear you challenging them, they tend to get angry.”

Loki shrugged, “So be it. Perhaps my presence is why Vesuvius must erupt.”

You furrowed your brow, “The mountain?” You pulled your leg back, “Is that the death that Mobius was talking about?”

Loki nodded.

“Oh.” You looked away sadly, “I am a distraction then… something to enjoy before, before you leave, yes?”

“No.” Loki shook his head. “I’m bringing you with us.”

You blinked, turning your head sharply to look back at him. “What?”

“The TVA cares too much about the sacred timeline. Their little lizard gods have too much power. If I’m going to burn their organization to the ground, well, I may as well throw it into as much chaos as possible first.”

“So, you’re just using me as a means to an end?”

“Some call me the god of chaos. But no.” Loki slid back around the bath to be next to you, setting down his goblet. “Sometimes there are people in your life that you meet, that you can feel play a part, sometimes a big part, sometimes a small part. I,” he hesitated, “I don’t know what role you’re destined to play yet.” Loki reached for your hand, his larger one engulfing yours, long fingers almost a full bend longer than yours.

The two of you looked at the way his hand consumed yours.

You nodded meekly, as he slid his hand to the side, clasping your hand together.

“I don’t know this feeling, but I don’t want to stop feeling it.” Loki confessed.

You rested your head on his chest. “I don’t want to either.” It was then that you could feel his heart racing and a small smile spread across your face.

Eventually you and Loki left the warm water that had begun to cool. You were each given robes and set off in the direction of the sleeping chambers.

“Wait, Loki.” You stopped, dismissing the servant who had indicated a guest room for Loki. “Stay with me?”

Loki looked at you uncertainly, glancing up and down the hallway at the guards standing at attention.

“Please, I’m always so cold after those baths.” You began earnestly.

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched, “Very well.”

You reached for his hand, wrapping your pinky finger around his and led him along to the master chamber.

It was a grand room, decadent to the extreme. You dismissed the guards with a curt nod, though they stayed within calling distance. Beautiful art and pillars decorated the room with various sitting places should the need arise to entertain.

By the window, was your bed, one of the softest in the city.

Unable to stop yourself, and letting out a laugh at the scandal of it all, you dragged Loki over to the bed. Your legs hit the side and you fell back onto it, dragging him down on top of you.

Loki flushed, rolling over and laying beside you, gazing into your eyes. You gazed back at him, your chest heaving.

“I never noticed your eyes were so green.” You whispered.

“Oh?”

“I was trying to memorize all of you, I didn’t want to forget any details of you.”

Loki lay on his side, hooking his leg over yours so you rolled on your side to face him. Stroking his hand down the material of your nightgown, Loki smiled at you. “You won’t.” His hand came to rest on your waist.

Reaching up you tangled your fingers in his hair, stroking your thumb along his cheek.

Abruptly, Loki moved, gripping his other hand to your cheek, and the one from your waist moving up to guide you towards him and -

And then he was kissing you. His lips pressed to yours, soft gentle, lips brushing against yours, featherlight, mouths moving in sync, the faint tug as you feel him smiling. Your eyes already shut as you sink into the kiss as he rolls over pressing himself on top of you. He pauses the kiss and changes to soft staccato kisses, peppering them down your jaw and throat as you grip his strong shoulders and sigh arching your back into him.

Slowly he stops, the two of you opening your eyes and looking at each other again.

“I think I really like you.” You whispered.

Loki nodded mutely.

Words of confirmation would have been nice, but at least him nodding was something.

You smiled weakly, taking his hand and rolled over, your back to him, placing it on your stomach and closed your eyes.

Loki reached for the blanket, pressing his chin to the top of your head and covered the two of you with it. He laid there in silence, watching as you curled into him. Biting back his chuckle, he smiled as you gripped his arm fiercely, trying to wrap it around yourself as tight as you could in your sleep.

With his hand so occupied, and his other arm somewhat pressed beneath him, Loki focuses his mind on warding the room.

You wake abruptly in the early hours of the morning. Something warm is pressed to your back, a heavy weight across your body. You are entombed, unable to move.

There is a gentle snort, a soft grunt, and then a heavy sigh.

Swallowing hard, the memories of yesterday come flooding back. Craning your head around, and wiggling with all your might, you strain to see the person sharing your bed.

For a moment you are surprised. A part of you genuinely thought he would leave.

Loki’s body starts to react to your wiggling and you stop, face heating up. Biting your fist, you lay still.

Then, with apparent ease, Loki rolls over onto his back, dragging you with him and holding you in place much like a comfort object. He hugs you tight, and you lay on his chest, squeezed in place and unable to move. His physique suggested he was strong but this was beyond anything you could imagine.

Carefully, you shifted your arm free and reached up to stroke his face, “Loki, Loki…” You drew out the word, whispering in a sing song voice.

Loki’s eyes slowly opened, bleary with sleep. Letting go of you, though you stayed on his chest, he rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Hey Loki.”

“Mmm, hello darling.” Loki hummed, blinking then slowly seemed to come to his senses. He sat up and you fell off of him. “What witchcraft?”

“What?”

Loki’s eyes darkened as he looked at you distrustfully. “I have not slept like that,” he trailed off.

You pulled back and sat next to him on the bed, tugging the blanket with you. The sting of tears welled in your eyes.

“My dear, I am so sorry.” Loki murmured, gripping your cheeks and pressing his forehead to yours. “I did not think I would ever sleep so well again.”

You smiled weakly, still feeling the prickle of tears, “I’m glad I could help.”

Loki pulled you close, hugging you into his arms and burying his face in your hair. “I will not let your fate be the same as this city.”

#Loki x reader #ficbit #imagine Loki

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aks3raao1 · 3 years

Note

Me, to Luja: So tell me about yourself

Luja: No

Me: ...ma'am I need to write the story—

Luja: Good luck <3

[now that I do think of it, ALTERNATIVE's main duo that's established right at the beginning is literally a chiller but edgier Katsuki and way worse sUrViVe Nagito genderbends]

~~~~~~

Luja Sen, she/her

Anyways, Luja and Romila are friends from middle school (the story starts with the beginning of their high school at AoS (Academy of the Specialised) which was essentially founded by Nyx). Luja gains her Specialisation (Ferrokinesis: The Ability to bend metal) at the age of twelve, so she has it for a lesser time period than Romila.

Luja primarily wants to become a scientist. Her family is happy with that, because it's praised and everything, especially in our society.

She has a gifted child superiority complex. Being a gifted child + Specialised means that she hardly had many friends in school. Her family had tried to get her to socialize....which didn't go down too well.

She believes that most people are annoying because they waste too much time on useless things like gossiping and what not, which she never showed much interest in and doesn't like to be dragged into those nonsense.

She is friends with Romila since they do share the same taste in stuff and were the only Specialised ones in their class. And they kinda stuck together for most of middle school and went into high school.

She has a problem when it comes to seeing Romila since she tends to see her bad parts and is like, "It's a phase" considering that it's not necessarily affecting her. Romila doesn't get too cranky with her since she fascinates her, with her passion™ for science. Also because she isn't all self sacrifice UwU.

Luja cares for her own self above others (but tends to put Romila pretty close to that hierarchy, which is why she's one of the only two Romila trusts during the Mansion of Death (the other person is Kratanos)) however she also does want to keep what friends she has and is generally caring towards them.

She has a genuine love for science and loves to discover how things work and why, and her favourite facet is Physics. She does want to invent things and honestly just make stuff easier for the Specialised who face a LOT of issues, especially when it comes to amenities since the government is an ass about accomodations and they gained the Fundamental Rights like ten years or so ago in the ALTERNATIVE timeline. And they gain an additional right ("The body won't be harmed for science") when they graduate from school, after signing a contract that they dedicate themselves to helping the government when called upon. (The whole contract is stupid and basically oppresses them more especially the punishment for not abiding by it).

With her goal of becoming a scientist, she wants to use her talents to make accomodations specifically for them so that she could have done something.

The things she fears the most is failure. Failing as in being unable to accomplish her goals. She is afraid of it because it's an unknown variable that's constantly haunted her and she's working hard for it to never reach her.

I suppose there's a way for her to confront that fear during the Mid terms at AoS where she essentially "loses" in the practicals due to her......teamwork issues.

Everyone thinks of her as stuck up and isn't interested to listen to her much and since she views the others as annoying people with annoying habits, she tends to fail to regulate them, causing Romila to win instead (yes, it's THAT unfortunate of a situation) in their match, which causes her to review a LOT of things and she tries to see what caused her to lose after having a severe breakdown.

She develops an inferiority complex in respect to Romila and then spends a long time wondering where she went wrong.

Rena (who somehow clung to her) tries to cheer her up but gets turned back halfway, but she still stays on and Luja is like, "Wtf" until she sees Romila going entirely off the deep end (she presents an interesting contrast to how Koldin sees Romila as well, she sees Romila's behavior and considers it as a justification for her own self....she uses Romila to justify herself a lot (since if you asked Romila, Luja was more or less fine according to her since she wasn't being a doormat and stood up for herself) while Koldin sees Romila as the reason he should cling onto his own stuff) and realises that she could be on the path to destruction herself and accepts Rena's help and tries to be more open to others which leads to the Mid terms parallels in the Archenemy of Society arc where she "succeeds" instead and manages to get the class together enough to escape the situation.

However it doesn't mean that her fear of failure has entirely vanished into the blue, she just reviews the ways she can fail better now and works around it to avoid it and has more confidence in her own self. But she is still scared of failing and would love to avoid that more than anything. However she's chiller after that.

Her intelligence is more or less on par with both Romila and Kratanos, making them the three main strategists in the final battle against the bigots (which is basically a rerun of the Mansion of Death situation but way way worse and fucked up and has different leads to it).

....

The thing is that, no matter what I do, she winds up feeling like one dimensional/repetitive, which is something I am trying to amend about all the characters (I mean, I had to revamp a lot of characters so it will probably take me a long long time to actually get to writing.........sigh besides she stands up like a cardboard amongst people (I mean, you have Romila and Kratanos with extremely complicated storylines and then you have her. Just there))

So the main question is how to make her more interesting as a character and on par with the rest while still keeping her character flaws and personality?

I think the easiest way to go abt this is to view her as a sassy Bakugo. They have the main points in common. They're salty, don't like to socialise, feel inferior to a certain someone while still having some semblance of confidence and a terrible fear of failure

Now as much as I hate to compare your character to another one, it makes it a lot easier to have them become - as my English teacher would say - more. So I am sorry if this comes off as offensive-

For Bakugo, he became interesting by playing a big part in the mc's main story and we do get a few scenes where his vulnerability is shown. I assume it's the same with your character but...what rlly ties the knot for me when it comes to Katsuki is the fact that his problems...are more than just an inferiority/superiority complex. His whole thing stems from background especially (*cough* abusive mom *cough*) and the fact that he's not the main character (or rather that the story isn't being told in his perspective).

These facts make us over think and want more of him. The mystery draws us in which is why I think Luja's character is so perfect for someone in the background. She doesn't like to reveal things abt herself and is pretty dismissive to most things on top of that (plainly just salty). Her character rlly draws you in and the best way to portray those kinds of characters is through another character. Ofc, you'd have to get to their POV eventually but it's important to note that most of the details should come from someone else's POV (an observer, if you will) instead of info dumping and starting straight with hers. A character that's mysterious with a very simple yet relatable story attracts a LOT more attention and interest when seen from someone else's perspective than when you kickstart it from theirs.

Ofc, if u are planning (or already have) started the story from her POV, that would be a bit problematic in terms of interest. But not a train wreck. This is where my other point comes in. The point of making a character have more than one problem

Different ppl as well as characters have a main problem but also different ones, no matter what way you look at it. It seems that even you are confused with all ur character's ins and outs (dw, we've all been there... I am still there tbh) and a solution to that is backtracking a bit and looking at their life from the very beginning in HEAVY detail (like more than u already did). Think abt what other trauma could have been caused, what doubts and fears could have slowly crept it's way to her heart and head (I am a sucker for long-lasting doubts that develop over time) and anything you can even so much as GRASP on. If you look at it and see it as a possibility, try to fit that into her character and add it subtly in different places (as subtext or a creative pattern, wordplay, doesn't rlly matter as long as it's not openly stated bc, remember, the key thing to these types of characters is mystery).

For example, a fear of failure can stem into anxiety before the character has even lost smth later in their life. They probably get rlly anxious when evaluating smth but don't show it much or at all so no one notices. This adds even MORE to the character bc you can build it up after other events. Like once they have failed, they could probably get even more anxious and then develop a bad relationship with the person who beat them (double the points if it was a friend). You could build all that up and turn it super toxic instead of jumping right to the healing. It makes it more interesting, doesn't it? Plus, reevaluating almost everything including world views after 1 loss is...kind of hard to believe even with anxiety (no offense)

Adding a lot of little problems and thinking abt how Luja's behaviour can impact other characters helps a terrible lot if ur doing most of the story from her POV. Especially since she's probably the most relatable character (from what I've heard anyway). I have a certain saying... it goes like, "It's better to have a relatable and connecting character than one with a problem that is too big for normal people to fathom."

I like characters with heart-wrenching problems that I would never be able to relate to (take maybe Shigaraki as an example ig?) But my favourite are the ones that make me feel as tho I made a real connection

Also, I would like to say...if ur looking to progress her character even further, I would debate on whether it's the complete end to the novel or if there'll be a second part. If it's a second part, keep some of Luja's issues. Make her get better but not completely "YAY, I AM DONE BEING TORMENTED". If it's the end of the novel/series/etc., make it so that she's resolved most of most of her issues. They don't have to be completely gone but they have to be a lot better compared to how they started. And how i would work that out is a mind map but knowing ur a scatterbrain...lets talk it out where everything is all over the place

Luja's main thing is to gain confidence in herself and be finally ok with losing, right? If you ask me, that's a tough one but not impossible. I think to get her from point A to point B is to put up a bunch of events like:

Get her super anxious when doing smth

Lose to *insert person*

Have a breakdown and over think on what she could have done better (on the project or whatever she lost at)

Get even more anxious and totally mess up the next thing

Lose once again (double points if it's the same person as last time)

Overthinking abt how she's not good enough

F i g h t i n g f r i e n d s c o z d r a m a

"YoU'rE nEvEr GoNnA gEt BeTtEr If YoU kEeP tHiNkInG aBoUt YoUrSeLf"

Over think abt no. 8 bc out of options and ideas and ✨a n x i e t y✨

Try listening to others more and become b e t t e r

Win smth (bc creator forbid 3 losses in a row to start depression)

Lose again (there is gonna be a bit of back and forth but is necessary for development)

"I tHoUgHt I wAs FiNaLlY dOiNg SoMeThInG rIgHt AnD nOw LoOk"

"Losing is not th3 3nd of th3 fucking world, you lunatic"

"WELL, IT IS TO ME, BITCH"

*insert psychology somehow idk*

Another loss

"I'm angry...but I'm ok"

Note that idk where bullying would come in and these are only how I would think it to go-

A character like this isn't rlly my strong suit when it comes to them resolving their problems but they are fun to write and think abt-

................................did I just give you advice on how to traumatize? I-

#writing #writing advice #wow i rlly am a sadist #character analysis #KK's character #well shit wtf did i go on abt-

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redrikki · 3 years

Text

May The Fourth Masterpost

Prequels/Clone Wars Era

May the Force Get With You- You’d think Anakin Skywalker’s conception would be pretty epic, mythic even, but you’d be wrong. Turns out, the Force is a lousy lay and a worse father. (Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, The Force, Salty Narrator)

Second Wind - Ahsoka takes the wrong exit of the the world between worlds and ends up with a second chance at saving her master. (Ahsoka Tano, Shmi Skywalker)

Pain Management - Anger can get a slave killed. Shmi teaches her son some coping strategies. (Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Watto)

The Force Is In the Details - The chance cube lands on red and now Shmi must learn to manage with a freedom she never asked for. Written as part of the Jedi Fest Rogue Robin challenge as a continuation of The Force is in the Details. (Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn, Padme Amidala, Jedi Council)

The Anchor That You Can’t Leave Behind - On the queen’s yacht headed back to Naboo, Anakin and Padmé miss their mothers but Obi-Wan can’t get why. (Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Another Word For Nothing Left to Lose - When Obi-Wan told him he was free at Qui-Gon’s funeral, Anakin took him at his word. There may, however, have been something of misunderstanding. (Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi)

For Amidala - Her handmaidens had all poured so much of themselves into Amidala, it was like they were part of her now. Padmé didn’t know if she had the strength to let one go. (Padme Amidala, Sabe, handmaidens)

Wordspring - Anakin’s words dry up in the middle of his fourth month at the Temple. If Obi-Wan can’t get them flowing again, maybe someone else will. (Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sheev Palpatine, various Jedi)

Nothing to Write Home About - A month after losing his wife, Cliegg Lars decides to write to her son. Anakin Skywalker gets the pen pal he never knew he needed. WIP. (Anakin Skywalker, Cliegg Lars, Owen Lars, Beru Lars, Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala)

For the Greater Good - Count Dooku has never seen the appeal of Anakin Skywalker, but, when the Chosen One breaks with the Council over the treatment of the clones, he decides acquiring the boy’s allegiances might be worthwhile after all. WIP co-written with @grand-duc and @thendstartsnow (Count Dooku, Anakin Skywalker, Palpatine, Clone Troopers)

Once More With Feeling - A redeemed Anakin travels back in time post-RotJ and decides to unfuck the timeline with mixed results. (Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala, Sheev Palpatine, Jedi Council, bunch of other people)

Bridal Carry - On Naboo, it’s tradition for the groom to carry the bride to their marriage bed. With Anakin’s new prosthetic, it’s more difficult than it sounds. (Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker)

Secret Tunnel - War in the Outer Rim! While fighting on the mining world of Mumblety, Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano is tasked with mapping the tunnels along with a team of clones. When trouble strikes, will she have what it takes to save the day and complete the mission? (Ahsoka Tano, Echo, Fives, Anakin Skywalker)

No Place Like Home - Ahsoka’s return to the temple after her first deployment was strange, made even stranger by the fact that it should’t be strange at all. (Ahsoka Tano, Rex)

Eat, Snip, Love - Ahsoka can’t remember the last time she had a home cooked meal. Anakin and Padmé are determined to change that. (Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala)

Love and Support - After Padmé is shot at a conference, her mother insists she come home. Padmé, of course, is going no where. Episode tag to 3.07 “Assassin.” (Padmé, Ahsoka)

Across a Crowded Room - It’s a party in his honor, but it turns out the Hero With No Fear isn’t good with crowds. Padmé to the rescue. (Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker)

Lightening Rod - Anakin gets electrocuted…again. It probably says something bad about his life that he’s getting used to it. (Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Coming Out of My Cage, Doing Just Fine - On the way back from Kadavo, it finally hits her. In this war, Ahsoka had been outmatched, outmaneuvered, and outgunned, but she’d never felt powerless. Not like she did in that cage on Zygerria. (Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker)

In Our Bed After the War - After the mission to Zygerria, Padmé and Anakin have a difficult conversation. (Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker)

Domestic Life Was Never Quite My Style - Despite her best efforts, Padmé is pregnant. Now she has a difficult decision to make. (Padme Amidala, C-3P0)

You Call That Family? - In an AU where Anakin has left the order to be Padme, Obi-Wan encounters unexpected resistance when he goes to collect the twins. (Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Padme Amidala)

Birthright - The Force called him to his family and Anakin is not prepared to give them up. Not even to the Jedi Council. (Anakin Skywalker, Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, baby Skywalkers)

If Not For These Bad Dreams - Fives has dreamed about killing every Jedi he’s ever met except General Skywalker. Turns out he’s not the only one. (Fives, Kix, Tup, Jesse)

Dateline Felucia - Embedded with the troops on Felucia, a reporter from HoloNet News paints an intimate portrait of the men of the 212th Attack Battalion. (Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Waxer, Boil, clone troopers)

Ahsoka the Vampire Slayer - Ahsoka is the Chosen One, the Slayer, or at least she was until she died. She got better, but now there’s a new Slayer in town and things with her Watcher are strained at best. Add in a bunch of zombie mind control bugs and Ahsoka’s week could be going better. BtVS fusion. (Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker, Barriss Offee, Luminara Undili)

Bursts of Stardust - Collection of short tumblr prompts. (Everyone ever)

Rogue One

The Lord’s Estate - Every lord must have an estate. Lord Vader’s is Mustafar. (Vader, Palpatine)

Peace is a Lie - Sometimes Vader wakes up and can’t remember what war he’s fighting. (Darth Vader)

A Cog In Something Turning - Cassian hadn’t meant to give K-2SO free will. Good thing for both of them he’s a terrible slicer. (K-2SO, Cassian Andor)

Original Trilogy

Sea of Sorrow and Sand - Ben Kenobi is an island in a sea of sorrow and sand. Beru Lars has come to drag him back to shore. (Obi-Wan Kenobi, Beru Lars)

What Remains - What remains of a relationship built on lies? Nothing, as Darth Sidious will soon find out. (Darth Vader, Darth Sidious, Padmé Amidala’s preserved corpse)

On This Strange and Mournful Day - The events of Vader Down go very differently. The father and child reunion is only a motion away. (Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, Dr. Aphra)

After the Funeral - Han offers Luke some unexpected support after the funeral of the guy who tortured him. (Luke Skywalker, Han Solo)

A Cynic’s Guide to the New Golden Age - The second Death Star goes kabloowie and takes the galaxy with it. It’s a new golden age of piracy and Aphra’s got some looting to do. (Dr. Aphra, Luke, 0-0-0, BT-1, Black Krrsantan)

The Last Truce We Ever Came To - Darth Vader is dead but he won’t leave Leia alone. (Leia Organa, Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker)

Sequel Era

Red Fish, Blue Fish - Leia bought an aquarium for her child like her father before her. In a perfect world she could raise Ben to fill his grandfather’s legacy. Too bad he had more than one. (Leia Organa, Ben Solo, Angst)

A Matter of Precedence - FN-2187 wasn’t the first, except for the time he was. Others have defied the First Order before, but none quite as spectacularly. (Finn, First Order)

So You Want to be a (Space) Wizard - Finn finds a mysterious book, takes an Oath, and starts one hell of an Ordeal. Crossover with Young Wizards. (Finn, Poe Dameron, Rey)

Old Haunts (All We’ve Ever Known) - Anakin and Obi-Wan as snarky Force ghosts during The Force Awakens. (Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, TFA cast)

Lady in Waiting - Rey’s spent so much of her life waiting it’s hard to know when to stop. Luckily, Poe’s there to give her the push she needs. (Rey, Poe Dameron, Leia Organa, Finn)

Not a Drop to Drink - On Luke’s island, Rey couldn’t quite get her mind around the sheer amount of water stretching out towards the horizon. (Rey, Luke Skywalker)

#star wars #may the fourth be with you #my fic

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sadachmesarthim · 3 years

Text

coercive notions - stucky

content: semi-graphic violence, blood, minor character deaths, emotional manipulation and abuse, false imprisonment, kidnapping, torture in the form of nonconsensual body modifications, stockholm syndrome.

dead dove: do not eat. steve sucks big time in this one. i’m not really sorry about it.

note: happy 6k followers to @sweeterthanthis !!! i love the idea of these prompts, they definitely did their job !! i was thrilled when i saw i got my quote of choice. this one’s based on ”i wish i knew how to quit you” from brokeback mountain (my favorite angsty husbands)

if the timeline is nonsensical in this - think 2 years post engame but no one's actually died! there is also some background starker but it's only mentioned twice. this is my first time writing for steve and bucky, and my first ~dark~ piece. it was definitely the challenge it presented itself as, and i’m super thankful for the opportunity to participate alongside so many talented witers!!

word count: 4.2k ; read time 15 minutes

Steve'd survived because of Bucky.

Bucky was the one that kept the fevers at bay, bought him medicine, nursed him back to health even when neither of them thought he'd survive through the night. Bucky was the one that dragged him out of the river, and left him alive on the bank.

Left him to wake up.

Bucky was the one that welcomed him with open arms when Steve was abandoned by the Avengers. Steve'd lost his home, his family - everyone and everything he had - when the world rejected him (the millionth time). Bucky was the one that came back. He'd lost his arm, his identity, everyone and everything he remembered - but he still ran to Steve without hesitation. No matter how far away they got, no matter what separated them, they always came back to one another.

They got together right after the fight with Tony in Siberia.

They'd found each other, and suddenly gained a future.

Steve had never... really pictured himself having a future. When he was younger, he accepted that he'd die young. A fever that wouldn't break, a cough that wouldn't leave, pneumonia he couldn't beat... Then he joined the army. He suddenly... had possibilities.

But there was still war, he was still fighting, and he was still in the line of danger every single day. It didn't matter if he was fighting Hitler, homophobia, Hydra, - someone was always gunning for him. Someone was always trying to get him killed. And it worked! He died! Crashed straight into the ocean and froze, for seventy fucking years!

Until someone had the audacity to defrost him, and yet again force him into the line of fire. Without really consulting him first. It was something Steve was slowly coming to terms with - he’d always be fighting, always be serving, always be protecting.

He’d been failing his job as a protector, lately.

+//////+

They all thought it was a bit weird, but then again, so is living with two men that look seventy years younger than they actually are. So is living with your coworkers. So is being a superhero. So of course none of the other Avengers said anything.

Not when Bucky started asking Steve permission for things - to get up from, and leave, the table after meetings. If he could get seconds during breakfast or dinner. If he was allowed to come on patrols or missions. Everyone just assumed it was a forties thing, or that it was just Bucky getting more comfortable around them. The dirtier minds of the group (Tony, Peter, Natasha) chalked it up to a kinky sex thing.

Steve saw it as devotion.

Bucky saw it as a way to keep him appeased.

See, Steve'd gotten more... irritable, lately. Every time Bucky got hurt on patrol, was in a bad position during a mission, needlessly volunteered to do something dangerous - it pissed Steve off to high heavens, for no reason. It'd gotten significantly worse over the course of a few months, to the point where Bucky could barely breathe without Steve getting upset.

It came to a head one day when Bucky got pinned during a fight with New York's latest nuisance. He wasn't even supposed to be there, it was his day off, for fucks sake. But he'd heard the call go out, and suited up before following a few minutes behind the rest of the crew.

This particular species of big nasty™ (a xorrian dog? Thor had called it?) had an... upsetting taste for live, warm flesh. He popped up outta nowhere over Manhattan during the Friday morning rush, apparently scouting Earth for the next course in their Milky Way Dinner Service.

Bucky, self sacrificing moron that he is, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just as Steve laid down the final blow, narrowly avoiding the alien's jaw, Bucky slid underneath it, shoving his hand between the soft plating of the monster's stomach. He reached in, single-handedly gutting the thing while Steve put a shield-sized dent in its skull.

Their foe dropped almost instantly, crushing Bucky beneath several tons of dead weight. None of them would have known he was there, either, if Tony hadn’t programmed life-sensing protocols in a new combat arm he’d gifted the soldier for his second anniversary home and Hydra-free. A signal went to Tony’s suit the instant FRIDAY sensed structural integrity issues, sending him a precise location.

“What do you mean he’s here, babygirl? We didn’t call him in.” The worry in Tony’s voice was apparent, calling the attention of the rest of his team. They were all intrigued, prematurely pulled from their celebrations of a fight well won.

“It seems that Sergeant Barnes is approximately twenty paces northwest of your location, and his elevation is slowly decreasing. Would you like a map of the area?”

“Uhh, no Fri. I think I know exactly where he is. Cap, get your ass over here!” His heart rate was increasing by the second. If he thought correctly (as Tony almost always did), Bucky was... underneath the alien. “We need to pick this fucker up, or flip it, or something. I think Bucky’s stuck under it.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. “Tony, what the fuck are you talking about? Bucky wasn’t part of the group today.”

Steve didn’t hide his anxiety well when it came to Bucky. Their team knew that he was Steve’s whole world. One more life threatening situation, and Steve might actually die from old age with all the years Bucky’d stressed out of him. FRIDAY sending a detailed ping with Bucky’s combat arm location didn’t do anything to ease his anxiety, either. He knew it was just like Bucky to do something like this - jump in without word, all act and no think. Try to help his team out and wind up crushed by an alien pet the size of a 787.

Peter was next to them, soon, ready to help get this thing off their friend. Together, they managed to drag Mister Beast-of-the-Week far enough down the street, revealing a very unconscious, very bloody Winter Soldier nestled in the asphalt.

Steve was on him in a second, picking Bucky up with both hands. Tony already had FRIDAY doing preliminary scans and sending them back to Cho and Strange. Initial reads weren’t terrible, all things considered, but he still looked like shit. He might be five hundred times stronger than the average man, but no one’s prepared to be stuck under 200 tons of pure xeno-reptilian mass. Not even Bucky Barnes.

His head rolled back freely as Steve picked him up, exposing an already bruised and swelling jaw. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, choking him on his own shock. Saved by the bell, Cho called Tony back immediately, sending for one of them to bring him to the tower surgical site immediately.

“We have to go, Steve. Let us take him, we’ll get him fixed. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But you have to let him go.” Steve’s upward glance brought him Tony’s exasperated face. He was dizzy, everything felt like slow motion.

He didn’t register the movement until he saw it, watching Peter’s hands as they held him back. Tony took Bucky’s lifeless form, carrying him toward Stark Tower and away from the wreckage.

The wreckage he shouldn’t have been anywhere near in the first place.

The wreckage he wouldn’t even have known about if he didn’t beg Tony to be included in all mission alerts.

The wreckage he would have avoided if it weren’t for the martyr complex he’d had since birth. It might not be nearly as strong as Steve’s, but it was still there. Bucky’d always gone to obscene lengths protecting the people he loved.

Steve had a track record of doing a piss poor job of repaying the favor. He couldn’t save him from the war. He couldn’t save him from the train, or from Hydra. He couldn’t save him from Thanos. He couldn’t even save him from a stupid little skirmish downtown. No, from where he was standing, Steve’d fucked up. Big time.

He promised that day, he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again.

+//////+

It was weeks before he was back to normal, and even then - Bucky wasn't entirely sure he wanted to leave. Not because he was still sore, or not feeling up to par. In fact, he'd been antsier and more ready to get back into the field than ever. He missed his friends, he missed the people he fought evil with every day. He missed sparring with Sam and going on runs with Peter, listening as Thor regaled stories about Old Asgard no one.. could quite follow. Missed the twice weekly calls from Shuri. But most of all, he missed his freedom.

Steve wasn't ready to give it to him.

When he woke up after surgery, Steve was right next to his recovery bed. He almost looked like he did back in the day - sleep deprived, worry lines forcing their way to the surface of his face. Vague frustration enveloped him, even when he met Bucky's conscious form for the first time.

Their first few conversations were tender, loving, but it didn't take long for them to sour.

Steve'd insisted on bringing Bucky back to their shared floor immediately after he woke. He allowed Cho to look him over, FRIDAY to scan him, everyone to come say hi - but he never let Bucky out of his sight. Not while Bucky was awake, anyway.

He slept a lot in those first few days. He was still healing, and while it might have been much faster than anyone expected, he was also recovering from what should have been several deaths over. He spent most of his time in bed, asleep, or talking to Steve.

Most of it was lecture, some was praise. How stupid he was to get involved on his day off. How much Steve loved him. How he wasn't allowed to go being a martyr like that again. How much Steve loved him. How Steve was going to do a better job of watching over him from now on. How much Steve loved him.

There was a lot of that, after Bucky woke up. How much Steve loved him. How important Bucky was to him, how much it meant to him that Bucky was alive and breathing and conscious and okay. Every time he got a lecture, or a reminder, Steve's hand was on him somewhere. His shoulder, his wrist, his face. His throat. Every time he spoke, he squeezed, just the tiniest bit. Not threatening, not even to force acknowledgement. Just.. Because he could. To the untrained eye, it was just physical contact.

Bucky knew better.

Bucky knew conditioning when he saw it. When he felt it.

Bucky also knew he was significantly more susceptible to conditioning than most people.

Bucky was fucked.

+//////+

Tony didn't think anything of it when Steve asked for handcuffs that could hold a supersoldier back. He, too, was a pervert with a genetically enhanced super-boyfriend, who was he to deny the Captain a little fun? He'd designed restraints Peter could use without breaking (or hurting himself!), why not share the love?

No one thought anything of it when Bucky stopped joining them on missions. Trauma has a different effect on everyone, maybe Bucky just needed time to process almost dying (again). No one would blame him for it. Hell, most of them encouraged his staying home.

None of them... really thought anything of it when he quit leaving altogether. They trusted Steve's judgement, and if he didn't think Bucky was ready to leave, then he wasn't. Bucky knew better than to defy him, too - just kept his mouth shut around "yes, Steve"s and "okay, Steve"s.

The conditioning didn't stop as he got stronger. He'd been back to 100% weeks ago, but Steve was still babying him. Carrying him to the shower, not letting Bucky bathe himself, or brush his own teeth. He couldn't dress or eat without help, go anywhere without asking. "I just want to keep you safe. I need to know that you're not going to get hurt." Steve's words remained calm, level, but his face betrayed the threat behind them. If you don't listen, you won't be able to leave at all.

Bucky'd learned the hard way that if he didn't listen to Steve, he wouldn't have a choice. He'd attempted to leave their floor by himself while Steve was out on a mission with Tony, Nat, and Thor - he got up early, showered, got dressed. His first taste of freedom in a long time, he was so excited to go see everyone again.

He was downstairs and halfway through breakfast with Bruce and Peter when Steve got back.

+//////+

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the sun. It's a familiar feeling to him, one he thought he'd never deal with again. The isolation. The lack of control. The fear.

Steve initially hadn't looked mad. He let Bucky finish his meal, kept a distant but watchful eye over the group until the two others finished and moved on to their lab work downstairs.

Bucky knew he was fucked. He'd broken rules. He'd left their room without permission. Steve might not have looked it, but Bucky could feel the anger and disappointment radiating off him.

After that... He wasn't allowed to do anything.

No workouts, no missions, no patrols. No leaving their room. Steve'd used the restraints Tony made - had him thoroughly tied down to the floor below their bed. No internet, no phone. Not a single book or movie or boardgame in sight. Good boys don't require entertainment to behave. No eating - Steve'd placed a gastric tube down his sinus to provide nutrition. His muzzle, the one hydra'd used... Steve'd locked it over his jaw, and left it there. Good boys don't need to use their mouths - not to drink, not to eat. Not to talk back or call for help. No using the bathroom on his own - he had a catheter replaced once a day, and Steve changed his bag as needed. Good boys don't get to leave the bed, not even if it's an emergency.

He learned to wait for Steve. Learned his schedule - early morning meetings with Wakanda, check ins with Fury and Maria, patrol a bit after lunch. Then, he'd come back, make sure Bucky's bag was empty and his feeding tube was flushed and clean before feeding him.

Steve allowed him to use the bathroom and shower at night, under incredibly watchful eyes. The restraints Tony'd made were long enough to stretch the entire perimeter of their room, but Steve kept him on a short leash. Bucky had five minutes total - shit, shower, shave. If he didn't finish in time... There's always tomorrow.

If he did, he'd get rewarded.

Steve'd wrap him up in a large fluffy towel, carry him to bed. He'd bring back the sweet little reminders, with his hand around Bucky's throat. How much Steve loved him. How this was all for his protection. How Steve wasn't going to let anything happen to him, ever again. How proud Steve was of him, for letting him return that favor, even decades later. How well behaved Bucky was, how good he'd been for Steve.

Steve was so different from Hydra, too. That's what made it so fucking difficult to resist the love bomb-type conditioning. He wasn't the torture type - didn't like the idea of doing anything he didn't have to. Steve didn't want to hurt him, and Bucky knew that. He found it harder to reject Steve's advances the longer he was locked in that fucking room, found it harder to discern whether or not he... wanted... to reject it.

He was Bucky's dialysis, and his drinking problem.

He was Bucky's oxygen machine, and the cigarettes he'd smoked to earn him one.

Steve could ask Bucky to do anything, ask him for anything... and he was powerless to say no. He'd tried.

+//////+

It'd gotten him a flick to the mouth, for his hesitation.

"When I ask you a question, love, you need to answer me. Do you understand?" The tears in his eyes nearly spilled over, sharp pain from his lips radiating into his nose and the corners of his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run, to get the fuck away from Steve and the compound and everything.

"Yes."

"Yes what, angel?" Steve might've been good about keeping his emotions checked in public, but Bucky could tell he was smug. Gloating. He enjoyed this. What'd happened to the sweet kid from Brooklyn that could barely hold himself upright? Bucky missed him.

"Yes, Stevie. I’m sorry Stevie." Saying his name was painful. This wasn't his Steve. This wasn't the Steve he'd fallen in love with. Wasn't even the man that'd dragged him out from underneath that alien... How long ago? Months? Years?

Bucky didn't know anymore.

Didn't know why his friends hadn't saved him yet. Didn't know how his absence went unnoticed for... however long it'd been. Didn't know why he was struggling to be upset about it all.

Steve, observant as he was, could practically see the gears turning in the other's head. He cradled Bucky's face in his hands, drawing him into calculated eye contact. Bucky felt sick. There was something... wrong, there. Something Bucky'd never seen before.

"They don't love you like I do, Buck. They don't want you. They don't love you."

Bucky flinched at the words, physically recoiling from Steve's grasp. He knew it wasn't true, he knew... He thought it wasn't, right?

Steve's laugh pulled Bucky out of his own thoughts, bringing him back to the room in front of him. He had a display up, with various recordings of the rest of the Avengers. He flipped through them, muting and unmuting seemingly at random.

"... I mean, he's probably ditched us for Zemo again. Would that really shock you?"

"he almost died again. I don't blame him, i wouldn't want to be found eith-"

"-e can take care of himself, let's just give him time."

Steve waved the holo display away when he saw the first few tears fall. "Don't you see, Baby? They don't care like I do - they don't love you like I love you. No one will ever love you like I love you." Steve's words stung, but Bucky couldn't deny that they made sense. Of course no one was looking for him. He was unpredictable, still kind of an outsider. Why would they try to come find him? Why would they care?

Bucky's mouth moved before his brain could stop him.

"'m sorry, Stevie, please, I'm so sorry! I-I- I thought they cared, please, please don't leave me Stevie! I was so wrong, Steve please! Wish I knew how to stop, Stevie, but you know I can't. You gotta help me stop Stevie, I've been so confused, been tryin' to quit you Stevie but I can't. Wish I could quit you but I can't, I can’t be left alone anymore. Please, you can take my arm if you want it, Stevie. Take anything, take whatever you want from just please, please don’t leave me alone anymore!"

He was in hysterics at this point, unable to believe what was coming out of him. Was he really okay with Steve taking his arm away? Did he really love this Steve back? Was he just scared?

The worst part was that he couldn't tell.

+//////+

The smell of fresh coffee woke him before he was ready. His eyes burned, still dry after Steve refused to close the window before they went to bed.

Bucky would have closed it himself, but he couldn't actually reach that far.

They'd moved out to the cabin a few months after Bucky finally broke realized how wrong he was. It was a cute little place, big enough for the two of them but small enough to not draw attention if someone came upon it by accident. Not that they really could. Steve'd installed motion sensors five miles out, and had fully automated... solutions, in place, should any threats or issues arise.

They went entirely unused.

It really was a beautiful plot of land - they had a few animals, a cute pair of kittens to dote on and play with. He had enough room to move around, to sit in the sun or curl up in bed. He had plenty of books, games, anything and everything he could want to occupy his time, really. He had Steve.

And breakfast now, apparently.

Steve set the plate on the bedside table, gently sitting next to his lover and planting small kisses on his still shut eyelids. Bucky looked up and smiled, blushing at the hand that'd wrapped around his neck. He reached out, gently thumbing at the inside of Steve's wrist. Oh, how he'd missed this. Missed contact with his Steve.

He opened his mouth, accepting the bite Steve offered him. Steve always made the best pancakes, he thought, appreciating the hot meal hitting his tongue. He hadn't eaten this good in weeks. It was hard for him to cook without his arm, but Steve always provided. Steve cooked for them, cleaned up after them, made sure Bucky was sated. Safe.

He'd taken off for a mission nearly a month ago. A dangerous one, he'd said. One he might not return from for a while, he'd said. Bucky worried. He always did when Steve left, especially since he couldn't know where or why he was going. But Steve always came back to him. Sometimes, he was back in one piece. Once, he'd come home with an arrow in his stomach and several gunshot wounds. That'd been a... scary night. Another time, he came home with half of his hair singed off and his clothes in tatters.

Last night... Last night he finally came home, and he looked like shit.

He was covered in bruises, nearly 40 pounds lighter than he was when he'd left. There were holes in the shield, too large to be bullets but too small to be anything else easily recognizable. Some were through his suit, too - puncture wounds littering his chest and stomach. They were already partially closed, but he was still bloody.

There were still webs in his hair, too - Bucky brushed them away after Steve closed (and locked. always locked.) the door. He knew better than to comment. Steve was just protecting him. Steve loved him, he was doing what he needed to keep Bucky safe.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. That each time Steve left for a mission, Bucky cried himself to sleep. He thought, eventually, that the pain would go away. That the death of each of his friends would get easier, somehow. That the fear, the hope, of losing Steve would stop consuming him.

He'd just smiled, kissed his husband's cheek, and helped him strip down. He'd mouthed at the graze left on the side of Steve's neck, reverent in the presence that was his protector. Bucky'd developed quite the complex, in their time of isolation. Every time Steve came in - from cutting firewood, picking food from the garden, feeding the animals, or from nights like last... Bucky just couldn't stop talking.

About how he wouldn't be alive without Steve. How he'd still be a mindless slave for Hydra, killing innocent people under everyone's noses. How he owed Steve his life, a thousand times over. How he'd've been taken by Ross or Stark or Clint or someone, and locked away miles under the sea. He'd pressed them into Steve's jaw like kiss-coated secrets, like no one in the entire world knew these things but Bucky & Steve. Like they were bits of information to cherish, to chew on and savour before swallowing.

Steve just laughed, picking Bucky up and bringing him to bed. He followed shortly after, cleaning and patching himself up before snuggling right up to Bucky.

Sleeping was interesting, initially, but they'd adapted. It was easier to cuddle Bucky without his arm, but sometimes Steve woke up with his legs tangled in loose chains by the footboard. It was an easy enough trade, in Bucky's opinion. Give up his arm, give up a bit of freedom, and get a loving, devoted husband in return? One that would make him breakfast in bed, one that would hold him and kiss him and praise him whenever he needed? One that would kill for him? Die for him?

Bucky saw it as a fair enough trade, and if that meant their friends needed to die... He tried not to think about it.

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ieattaperecorders · 3 years

Text

Notes on Causality - Chapter 4: Gerry

A favor for an old friend.

Read on Ao3

As he fell away for the final time, he felt that all-consuming fear, and his only thought was to cry out for his mother. But with the last vestige of his stubborn will, he refused. She would not claim his last moment. He was silent.

And so Gerard Keay ended. But there would be no rest for him.

The recitation came to an end, the agony of being pulled through his own demise faded into dull awareness. He remembered himself, the negative space where a person had once been. Gerard had never liked ghost stories. He liked them less now that he was one of them.

The man holding the book was a stranger. He was old, though probably not as old as Trevor. His hair had been black once but was far more salt than pepper now, and his face was creased around the forehead and mouth. A pattern of scars on his face and neck made Gerard think instinctively of filth, and of burrowing things.

So. Either this was someone who’d taken the book from the Van Helsings, or more likely someone they’d threatened into using it so they didn’t have to look at him directly. Pricks.

“. . . Are they dead?” he asked tiredly.

“You mean the hunters?” the man shook his head. “No, I sincerely doubt I would have been able to manage that. But I took pains to cover my tracks.”

“You stole the book from them?"

“Well, it was stolen to begin with, wasn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Gerard tilted his head, smirking grimly. “Condolences to your family, then. Aren’t many in the world who can cover their tracks enough for those two.”

“I’m well aware,” the man sighed. “I’ve done what I can, nothing left but to wait and see now.”

They were in a small bedroom, inside what was probably a cabin. Gerard saw dark wood walls, oil lamps, and a tattered rug that bore some kitschy pattern he couldn’t be bothered to identify. Any view there might have been through the window was obscured by white-out snowfall. There was a fire in the fireplace, not that he could feel it.

“Who’re you, then?”

“My name’s Jon. I used to be the Archivist, until I took your father’s way out.”

He gestured towards his face, and Gerard finally noticed the scars crossing over his eyes -- false ones, probably. The implications sank in.

“Hard to tell how much time’s passing in here,” he said. An echo of an emotion, something that was almost sadness. “But unless you’re a hell of a lot older than you look, I don’t think you’re Gertrude’s predecessor.”

“No. No . . . I was her successor.”

“So she’s dead?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jon said. “She died holding a can of petrol, daring a man to shoot her.”

The thought warmed something in the absence of Gerard, and he smiled. “. . . Good.”

For a moment, he pictured Gertrude standing on a chair to disable the alarm in his hospital room so that he could light the cigarette she’d snuck in. A phantom ache came from where the IV had been in his arm. The hole was still there, still unhealed. It would never have the chance to be otherwise.

He took another look at Jon, tired resignation coming over him.

“So . . . ‘used-to-be-Archivist,’” he sighed. “You went to the trouble of getting the skin book from a pair of homicidal maniacs. I’m guessing you have questions.”

“Not really. I assume you want me to burn your page, I suppose I just wanted to talk to you first. Tell you what’s coming, and confirm that it’s what you want.”

“. . . It is,” he said adamantly. “Being like this hurts , there’s no real life in it. Whatever else there is, even if it’s nothing? I’ll take it.”

“I understand.” Jon paused. “I . . . if you want, I can let you go. Get it done right away.”

To his surprise, Gerard hesitated. He didn’t know what made him do so. Maybe it was fear, the thought of facing a second end, one that would hopefully be final. Maybe it was reluctance that he sensed in Jon, what was left of him reflecting the emotions of the living like the moon to sunlight. Or, hell, maybe now that he knew it would all be over soon he just wanted to linger a bit longer. He didn’t know, and he supposed it didn’t matter.

“Nah. I’ll stay a while. Got all eternity to not exist, right?” he shrugged. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a cigarette . . .”

“Sorry. Quit some time ago. And you couldn’t smoke it anyway, could you?”

“Guess not.” Something occurred to him, and he frowned. “Hey, how’d you read it?”

“What?”

“My page. You said you took my dad’s way out, right? He had to blind himself, and the book’s not exactly in Braille. How’d you read the page?”

“Oh! That’s uh . . . sort of a long story, actually.”

There was a pause, during which it became clear that he wasn’t going to follow that with anything.

“Well, summarize then,” Gerard said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“All right . . . I’ve actually met you before. I lived through a, hmm ---” he sighed, looking annoyed. “Well, Melanie insists on referring to it as an alternate timeline, which I really don’t care for. But I have to admit it’s a useful way to conceptualize it, so . . . .”

“Right, right,” Gerard waved a hand. “The whole ‘it’s not really this but we’re calling it this’ thing, I got it.”

“I was trying to continue Gertrude’s work of stopping rituals, which is how I met you originally. I burned your page that time as well . . . which, incidentally, did not go well for me. They did notice it was missing.”

There was a snippy edge to Jon’s tone, and Gerard smirked, unable to shake the feeling that he was on the receiving end of a cross-timeline ‘I told you so.’

“Better luck this time. Maybe the Van Helsings have gone soft,” he said without conviction.

“Oh yes, clearly they’re winding down to retirement,” Jon’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Regardless, things got pretty bad in those years. And, um . . . the world ended.”

“. . . Fucking hell.”

“More or less, yes.”

“Was it as bad as we thought it’d be?”

“Worse. Whatever you imagined, it was worse,” he said grimly. “Eventually, I found a way to pass my own memories onto my past self, and with that knowledge I’ve changed the course of events so that none of it ever happened.”

“Hence the world still being here.”

“For the time being. It took a long time to find the Hunters, even longer to put a plan together to get the book from them without leaving a trail. By the time we’d worked out what we’d be doing they’d moved on and we had to find them again, and so on,” he waved his hand. “But eventually . . . well, here we are.”

“Huh.” Gerard paused. He ran all that over in his head again. “Didn’t really answer my question, did you?”

“Oh, right,” Jon laughed softly. “Well. As it turns out, holding the book and reciting from memory is good enough. If that hadn’t worked, I’d have had to call my husband in here.”

“. . . Where is here, anyway?” Gerard looked around at the small room. “It feels strange. Couldn’t quite tell at first, but this place isn’t normal, is it?”

“It’s not, no. We found an artifact of the Vast, a snow globe that traps you inside if you look at it too long. Time passes at a different rate here . . . minutes become decades, hours multiple centuries. You don’t age or die, but you feel the passage of time, and you’re only released if the globe is broken. By then if there’s anything left of you you’ll return to a world you barely remember, a blip in your memories that are now eons long.”

“Right. And you’re here on purpose?”

“A friend of ours was holding it when we went in, she’ll have let it go the instant we disappeared. A few milliseconds for reaction time, then a second or two of freefall before it hits the concrete floor. Time enough to erase any trail that the Hunters might follow.”

Gerard frowned. “How does that work? Won’t it be just a second for them too?”

“Well, yes. But whether they find us has more to do with us than with them? You know how these things are.”

“Inside-out dream logic, yeah.”

“While we’re here we’re not running, and we’re in the grasp of another power that will greedily consume any fear we feel. If our theory's correct, when we return our tracks will be obliterated, and any breadcrumbs eaten by birds.”

“Yeah, I get it. What d’you think it is about the Hunt that makes everyone go for the fairy tale metaphors, anyway?”

“Couldn’t say. We should be here a few months, maybe close to a year if it doesn’t break immediately and Tim needs to use the baseball bat,” he smiled wryly. “We brought quite a few board games.”

“Sounds like a cozy holiday.”

“Yes! We’re trying to think of it that way,” he smiled, perking. “It’ll still be rough near the end, I’m sure. These things don’t come without consequences, you can’t throw yourself into something touched by the Vast without a taste of the horrors of eternity. But we’re good at keeping each other grounded. And I consider this worth it.”

“Unless something goes wrong and you’re trapped for all eternity.”

“True. It would definitely not be worth that. No offense.”

“None taken. Eternity’s a long time.”

Gerard tried to think of the last time someone had done something for him, with nothing to gain for themselves. Then he started to wonder if it had ever happened.

Something in him became still, then. Quiet, and cold.

“I . . . think I’m ready to go.”

". . . All right,” Jon hesitated, as if he might say something else, then nodded. “All right, then. Goodbye, Gerry. I dismiss you.”

Something flickered in him, and then he felt himself fade. The room slipped away, and he was once again nowhere and nothing.

He felt himself being torn from the book, felt leather split, waxed linen strain and snap as he was pulled from the binding that held him. There was a moment of breath, there was relief, and then there was only the fire.

It was nothing like being burned alive, and he would know. The pain was more insult than injury. What he felt instead was a frightening dissolution. Whatever was left of him – his thoughts, his memories, his feelings – he felt them disappear as he was being burned away.

The fear of his own end, the terror he had been bound in for so long threatened to return and drag him into oblivion screaming. But as the last vestiges of what had once been Gerard Keay were consumed, his mind drifted away from itself. He thought instead about Jon, about the last person he would ever speak to.

He didn’t think much, really. Just wondered if his plan would work, if he and his husband would escape the trap they’d put themselves into voluntarily. If they did this sort of thing all the time – burning Leitners and making enemies of Hunters – or if it was even remotely possible that they’d done it all for him.

Then Gerard Keay was gone. For good, this time.

---

Martin dropped the quartered logs in a pile next to the door, pausing to stomp the snow off him, take off his boots and brush the worst of it off his clothes. The endless snowstorm being what it was, he supposed there wouldn’t be much wandering around outside. Cabin fever was the whole point of this place.

The sounds of muffled conversation from behind the bedroom door had stopped just before he went out to the woodshed, and they hadn’t started up again. He decided to give the door a knock.

“Come in,” Jon’s voice came from beyond. “I’m . . . it’s done.”

Opening the door, Martin was greeted with the sight of Jon knelt in front of the fireplace, wrapped up in the soft flannel blanket from the bed. The book sat on the floor beside him, and he was shifting the logs with a long, metal poker. He turned in Martin’s direction and smiled. Lit by warm firelight, nestled in the blanket and one of Martin’s old jumpers, he made for a remarkably homey sight considering where they were.

“How’d it go?” Martin asked, coming to sit beside him.

“I think . . . Well. I hope that he got some peace, in the end.” Jon reached a blanket-swaddled arm across Martin’s back, pulling himself closer and drawing the warmth around him. “Thank you for doing this. It . . . means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Martin kissed the top of his head. “But it’s not just for you, you know. It’s a good thing we’re doing, setting them free. It’s the right thing to do.”

Jon nodded, nestling into him. "Did you take a look at the other pages?"

"Yeah. There's only a couple in English, so I figure we'Ll do them first, then I'll start breaking out the books and tapes we brought. If reciting it from memory worked, I might not even have to properly learn Sanskrit if I can pronounce it. Could be fun to try anyway, though."

"I'm still doubtful there'll be anyone who wouldn't rather have their page burned."

"Maybe, maybe not. Seems rude not to ask. And it's not as if we're on a tight schedule here."

"True enough," Jon smiled. "Time is something we'll have lots of. And . . . you're right to want to give them a choice. Even if they choose staying bound to a skin book for eternity."

"Mmm," Martin tried not to think too much about what the pages were made of, knowing he'd need to be handling them. "Anyway . . . looked around the place a bit while you were having your reunion. Whole cellar full of canned goods downstairs, easily a year's worth."

"I doubt they'll ever run out . . . fear of starvation would just distract from the dreadful creep of the endless aeons, after all."

"Mmm. Can always count on you to dispense these little nuggets of sunshine."

"Sorry. Too grim?"

"S'fine."

"We won't be here that long. A few months, a year at most. The others will get us out."

Martin looked into the fire. Any trace of the page thrown into it was long gone now. He hoped that whatever came next for Gerard Keay, it was kinder than what he'd been through.

"Well, if they don’t," he said, wrapping an arm around Jon. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather slowly go mad with than you."

"Nor can I."

#tma fanfic #tma #final update in this big honkin story!#because I always wonder about loose ends like these

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nyodrite · 4 years

Text

@a-world-in-grey @illusorygardens @sparklecryptid @hamelin-born @secret-engima because each of you seemed interested in this idea

so.

the entire thing is 30% Nyx's fault and 70% Ramuh's fault. because a non-Lucis Caelum wielding the Ring of Lucii left it's mark and made things.... incorrect in terms of Nyx's death

the Ring kind of laid claim to Nyx's soul and, instead of going to the afterlife he was supposed to be at, was trying to drag him into the Crystal

which Ramuh decided nope, not going to happen and just pushes Nyx's soul into the reincarnation cycle somewhere outside of the Crystal's influence

so eventually Nyx Ulric is reborn in a galaxy far, far away as Jango Fett which, with Ramuh kind of... intertwining with the Manda/Force/whatever, means he'll be able to go where he's supposed when he dies this time

of course when people find out about Nyx being reborn elsewhere many decide that they have to follow him

and more were tossed into things as a kind of... rehabilitation program?

the Fetts

only Arla and Jango are reincarnations

Selene winds up reborn first because detangling Nyx from the Ring took a bit longer

she isn't born Knowing, none of them are, but when Jango is born and Arla holds her brother for the first time she Knows

Jango spends most of his childhood unaware. He finds it a bit odd why Arla seems to be both amused and oddly delighted each time he calls her ori'vod but his sister is weird so he just goes with it

then their parents are killed and, amidst blood and fire and death, he remembers

then Jaster is dragging him away and he fights because he just got his sister back, just remembered what it was like to lose her and have to live without her, he's not letting it happen again

and he warps

(Nyx doesn't have magic, not like a true Lucis Caelum, but the Ring - for all that Ramuh severed it's connection to him - left... echoes.

He can still warp, it's familiar and easy as breathing to him, and he can reach out and share magic with someone but he has no armiger, he can't make potions or elixirs, what shields and elemental magic he can do is limited

but it's enough)

Nyx tosses the blade - a kukri, like he used to have, like their mother owned and taught them to uses as children in Galahd - his sister got him and warps back into the burning house

Arla - Selene, he knows it in his bones, can see it in how she switches from shooting a blaster to using a kukri to dig into the gaps of the armor as easily as she breaths - is fighting two Death Watch, she's holding them off but more are coming they just have to wait

so Nyx doesn't

He darts in, wraps an arm around his sister - has a moment to see horror cross her face - before he is warping them both out the house

the - king - Mand'alor definitely has questions when they appear so suddenly but there are more pressing matters and Nyx has time to figure out an answer

(Nyx never has to answer those questions, the Mand'alor always has a special connect to the Manda and Ramuh makes use of this to explain enough to satisfy Jaster

and if Ramuh hints at Jaster adopting both Fetts, despite Arla being technically old enough to be considered an adult, well that not favoritism that's just logic)

Jango and Arla become bounty hunters, though it's less of a full time thing and more of a I'm done dealing with politics I'm gonna go hunt something thing, and because they've no need for subtly decide to "hide" who they are by going by Nyx and Selene Ulric when on a job

technically both of them are in line to be the next Mand'alor and there pretty much even in terms of who the people want to be the next one

however, neither of them want the responsibility - or the politics, or the paperwork - and so basically try to... talk up the other as the better candidate

Nyx neatly solves this by taking on a bounty that leads to him getting a job on Kamino. and sure, it sounds super shady but there's no way his sister will be able to find him in time to keep herself from being declared Mand'alor

this holds out until the Alphas are made and then Nyx has a moment of oh shit i am a dad of a hundred and counting now

there is much panic and flailing, the comm message is basically incoherent

Selene starts praying for Libertus to show up because she left her brother unsupervised for one job. ONE. and this happens? clearly he needs his proper braincell back

and on that topic, let's head to the other, non-Ulric reincarnations real quick

Libertus is either Obi-Wan or Feemor, it depends entirely on how much I want Obi-Wan to have a proper big brother and Libertus to fuss over Obi-Wan's self-care, self-esteem and just everything really

if Libertus is Obi-Wan then Titus is gonna be Feemor, if Libertus is Feemor then Titus is going to be Dooku

which, you know what. I like that. Libertus is now Feemor, Obi-Wan gets his big brother and Titus is Dooku

so when that mission to Galidraan comes up, Dooku goes and sees Jango for the first time and suddenly Titus comes rushing in. and he's confronted with what is clearly TWO Ulrics before him

he is a Sigh

on the upside the mission ends mostly peaceful, none of the True Mandalorians are killed by Jedi and Death Watch gets dealt with

and there is now a, kind of nebulous, alliance between the Jedi and Mando

Titus!Dooku returns to the Jedi Temple and decides to reconnect with his lineage instead of isolating himself because clearly that kind of stuff didn't work the first time

and then he meets, after much scolding of Qui-Gon, Feemor who he can already tell is Libertus just waiting to wake up

he promptly tells Feemor that he should pay a visit to Mandalore as soon as possible and meet the future - because Nyx definitely saved Jaster on Korda 6 - Mand'alor

and Feemor may have intended to do so, however begrudgingly, but then he found a padawan and didn't really have time for a side trip to Mandalore

(which is good because he definitely would have stopped the clones from happening)

as for the rest.... well Crowe is Asohka, of course. For some reason I really like the idea of Luche as Xanatos du Crion?

Sonitus is Mando, not sure if he's reincarnated as someone already, but he's the kid of an armorer. Tredd I'm thinking Pre Vizsla maybe?

Pelna I'm thinking him being over in Corellia, not sure if he's a Corellian Jedi or if he winds up as a senator. Axis... I have half a mind for him to be Maul — or maybe Feral?

anyway, everyone only remembers when they see Nyx, hence why Titus!Dooku is trying to get Feemor to meet Jango

Sonitus actually remembers before Titus does, he's the son of one of Jaster's armorers and runs into Jango when he's old enough to start helping his buir

after that, Luche is actually the next to remember — because if I recall, Jango is only three years younger then Xanatos and the year Xanatos became a padawan was the same year that a some kind of pandemic spread through the galaxy, starting with Mandalore. so that sounds like a good set up to a potential mission for Jango and Xanatos to meet

next would be Tredd, which happens because Tor Vizsla dies via two protective Ulrics and so the Maat Mando'ade take in most of Death Watch after killing a bunch of the higher ranked ones

and then the few of Death Watch who got away set up Galidraan to try and wipe out the Haat Mando'ade and Titus remembers

Pelna and Libertus actually run into each other and make friends before remembering then, shortly after Feemor leaves Corellia, Nyx arrives and then Pelna remembers

honestly, Libertus is one of the last to remember but with multiple instances of where he just almost runs into Nyx

Luche!Xanatos finds Axis!Maul, drags him to meet Nyx and remember, then promptly returns to the Jedi Temple declaring he has a new padawan

then the clones happen and Ramuh gives Selene a break and reveals that Feemor is Libertus so she goes marching up to the Jedi Order and lowkey kidnaps Feemor - and his padawan who is having the time of their life right now - to drag him to Kamino

and then Feemor meets Jango and seconds later Libertus is yelling at Nyx over dying - then he finds out about the clones and yells some more over that

Crowe is the last one to remember timeline-wise but that's just because she's born later, she basically remembers as soon as she's taken to the Temple because Libertus is on creché duty with Nyx and she sees them

thats all I remember so BACK TO THE CLONES

the clones are raised as both Mando and Galahadian, and they get to choose—

choose if they feel more Galahadian, or if the want to swear to Resol'nare and be a proper Mando'ade instead of a Mando-raised Galahadian

of course there are those who are both, who have their armor painted in clan colors and clan braids not only in their hair but on display - in braided leather strips hanging from their armor

the clones also get to choose on if their names - not just if they want to name themselves or if they want Nyx to do it (and if they'd want a Mando or Galahadian name) but also if they want to be a Fett, Ulric or any combination of the two, or even something else entirely

after Selene finds out, and drags Libertus into things, a plot is hatched to kidnap the clones

Titus gets dragged into things because he's an older and respected jedi, and might be on the council, and basically changes the "order"

so the four of them wind up taking all the clones, now into the thousands with the oldest - Alphas - being preteen age?, and just flying first to Mandalore then straight to the Jedi Temple

they head to Mandalore first so that Selene can officially declare them citizens, Jaster gets to learn he's a grandfather thousands of times over and Nyx gets yelled at again

then they take any clones that didn't decide to stay on Mandalore over to the jedi temple where they waltz up to the jedi council and inform them about the army ordered for them

eventually it winds up with the rest of the clones getting added to the creché, in their own clans though raised along the jedi younglings

things get restructured a bit since most of the clones are not Force-sensitive, though some ARE because that's cool, and there's no way Nyx is going to be kept from visiting his kids

so you got some retired Mandos now in the creche with entire clans of clones that they've adopted, doesn't matter if they're a Fett or Ulric

you also got clones that straight up adopt various jedi so there's that too

anyways, Luche!Xanatos is the one who figures out about the chips which ignites all the protective rage and an investigation over just who ordered the clones though that winds up a bit of a dead end for a while

misc.

I'm not entirely sure if the Clone Wars happen here? if it does occur then it's not gonna be Republic vs Separatists because there's no Dooku to be a puppet leader — instead I think that winds up with the Sith Empire actually being reformed?

(which, has many a reincarnations seething because they already dealt with an evil empire and now there's another)

if that happens then Dathomir gets raided at some point for Sidious and Plageuis to steal Nightbrothers to raise as acolytes to help with their war

which in turn leads to some Nightsisters to side with the Jedi/Mando side because that's their future being stolen — also so Crowe!Asohka can learn about their magic and stuff because that'd be amazing

ANYWAYS

the ffxv world, i think the planet is still called Eos in it?, does in fact exist. it's just a planet floating in wild space

it is also a very, very long time since the happenings of ffxv

not sure if there's still people on planet or not, but it's definitely wilder and less tamed, all overgrown and filled with creatures

not sure which reincarnation finds this... let's say Pelna because I barely even mentioned him

hhhhhhh

Anakin Skywalker... I am not sure — he's brought to the temple young because there's no way anyone is gonna let slavery slide and Ramuh might have noticed his birth and started poking at someone to go investigate

Shmi winds up free and adopted, Shmi Skywalker-Ulric maybe? she works with Selene and both take the Senate by storm whenever they have to visit

Anakin winds up and Ulric by virtue of being Shmi's son

Libertus, purely out of self-defense, promptly adopts Obi-Wan to braincell for the newest Ulric - or, well, Obi-Wan may already be adopted by then and Lib just yeets his baby brother at the little Ulric to braincell

.....i think that's all the thoughts i have right now

#star wars #ffxv #long post #which i am sorry for but i did this on moble and can't do the read more thing #but i tagged it so people can skip!!

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pixelatedrose · 4 years

Text

Starry Nights

Story 1 | Story 2

Ao3 Link

Fic Summary: A bunch of short stories from different periods in the timeline of the Smp. As they all looked across their land, the homes and lights flashing and bleeding color into the sky and ground, they spoke in soft words and sad sighs, their eyes twisting and dancing from one emotion to the next in a flurry of memories. They would not forget it all so soon, the things in their lives. “…The stars are out tonight…”

Warnings: cursing, alcohol mention, blood, if there’s anything I missed or you would like me to tag, please let me know!!

Word Count: 1,287

Chapter 3: Memories, Memory, Remember Me (Pt 1)

“Phil, kill me, DO IT, STAB ME WITH A SWORD, PHIL, DO IT KILL ME-” Wilbur’s shouts were cut short by a father’s embrace and a hilt stuck between their bodies.

Wilbur was stuck still for a moment as harsh tears trickled down his face. Part of him didn’t think Phil would do it. Part of him didn’t doubt for a second. And part of him knew the truth.

“You…” Phil began to speak through his own tears and Wilbur’s heart shattered at the steadiness of it, how strong it was though it still wavered. “You couldn’t...you just couldn’t let it be, could you?” Phil said horribly and somberly, holding Wilbur close and tight, falling to the ground with the bleeding boy.

Wilbur thought and remembered everything.

The castle on the hill.

The games they played inside it.

The day they found Tubbo.

The day they left home.

The way they found the Smp lands.

Sally and him in the cabin.

Fundy as a baby.

Coming back to the Smp lands.

Building L’manburg.

Fighting for L’manburg.

Dragging his son and little brothers into his pain.

Letting Schlatt be part of it all.

Techno coming to help them.

Wilbur using him.

The way he went insane with power.

The way he threatened everything and everyone he had loved.

The wars he dragged so many lives into.

The explosion just minutes ago.

His father now.

Wilbur took it all in and he recalled everything in his life that mattered to him, that he loved and did wrong, the horrors he committed and the love that he’d felt.

Wilbur, with the last of his strength, tugged his arms around the broken father that held him so dearly.

“I’m sorry...I love you, dad...Thank you…” And as he said the words, his head began to fuzz around the edges of his brain.

He thought he heard his father call out in desperation as his arms slipped away.

He thought he heard another explosion in the distance and the distinct laugh of his brother.

At least Techno was having fun…

And he closed his eyes for a moment.

And when he opened them again, he was sitting on a hill, back, back, back, way back at the castle.

The wind was swaying the dry grass in the late summer.

It was quiet.

It was peaceful.

It was nice.

“So.”

Wilbur turned his head over and was met with his old friend- Jay Schlatt. He had a bottle in hand and the suit he wore was unbuttoned, his tie and coat blowing in the warm breeze as he looked out to the skyline. His mouth dripped with booze in a stream as if he had forgotten to swallow it down.

Schlatt to a sip from his bottle, despite the liquid overflowing his mouth already. “How was it?”

Wilbur stared at him, then looked down at the blood trailing down from his chest. Wilbur gave a pained and amused smile, laced with a chuckle. “It wasn’t that bad.” He said, remembering his father crying over him. “It hurt though.”

Schlatt shook his head and laughed. “Not dying, you blind fuck.” Wilbur watched as he tapped his head. “The memories.”

Again, it all flashed in his mind, but this time, his thoughts lingered on the best memories.

Wilbur smiled fondly. “That part wasn’t all bad, either.”

Schlatt hummed and took another sip before handing the bottle to Wilbur, who took it and gave a good hard drink before handing it back.

“Do you think you’re ready for what comes next?”

Wilbur looked at Schlatt, his gaze traveling to the grass below him and his hands which had spots of blood on them. Finally he closed them into a fist and released it, looking up to the hazy skyline. “I think...I think I’m a little scared…”

Schlatt barked a laugh. “Man, we’re all fucking scared!!” Wilbur looked at him and saw his hands shake. “God, Wil…” He looked down at the bottle in his hands. “I was really fucked up for a while there...You and the others left and Phil...It was different without you guys around.” His eyes went back up and he threw his arms up and laid back into the scratchy grass. “I let myself go to all shit. And when I was kicked out I fucking followed you.” His eyes turned to Wilbur again as a sincere and bitter smile all the same sprawled across his face. “You were my best friend. And I somehow blamed you leaving for all the shit that I’d done. I wanted revenge.”

Wilbur smiled back before laying down next to him. “Well you got it, all right. You made me fucking miserable!” He thought for a while. “It’s not...It’s not your fault I was a horrible person though.” He remembered the things he’d said to so many people- his own son and brothers- the way he treated them and used them and dragged them into hell because he was bitter about how awful he was. “That part was all me.”

Schlatt laughed. “I guess we’re just a couple of dick-headed bastards, huh?”

Wilbur nodded as memories began to flood his mind, the thoughts leaking from his eyes in a flurry of colorful liquid, letting them all slip away from him and clinging closely to the ones he cherished most- needed most-

Baking with Tubbo and Niki and Fundy, When L’manburg was whole, How they fought for the freedom of that country, making fun of Tommy and watching him get worked up, Sparring with Techno when they were kids and they didn’t need to worry about the world, the wind on his skin on summer days in the flower fields, Being a loved and just president before everything went to shit, people cheering for him as he said things he wouldn’t soon forget or regret, Fundy and Sally as a family in that cabin in the woods, Niki and her steadfast smiles and compassion, the damned van that started it all as some fucking joke, Tubbo working late into the day to build things, Phil wrapping his wings around him before the explosion could harm him, the first time and every other time he saw Sally and loved her, Phil holding him in his arms and loving him despite the sword in his chest, The explosion, the ocean, breathing when the world felt right, winning the elections, Pogtopia in the ravine, Techno’s armory before they fought for a land he would destroy, the books, the tunnels, the symphony of arrows that berated him and his companions.

He turned over and saw the same thing happening to Schlatt- colorful tears that reflected memories upon memories upon memories, weeping away and colliding with the soil.

Wilbur lifted his fist and bumped it against his old friend’s shoulder and the man’s face turned to him.

“You ready, asshole?”

Schlatt smiled in spite of the memories fleeing away, and reflected Wilbur as his fist pumped against his shoulder.

“Hell yeah, fuckwad.”

Wilbur closed his eyes, and took a breath of air.

He would be alright.

He thought of his family, smiling together for a photo from ages ago, from before they left home. He thought of Tubbo, and his smiling mischievous face that could deceive all the maids in the castle. He thought of Tommy, and his stupid laugh- all shout, that damn laugh. He thought of Techno and the way he would go ‘haah?’ when he got caught off guard. He thought of Phil and how when they were younger tried to control how much they cursed, all in vain, and would laugh about it later.

Wilbur smiled.

I love them…

And the world went black.

A/n: There was supposed to be another story between this one and that last one abt Wilbur and Sally- but I ended up finishing this one first lol. It doesn’t matter much though bc of the way the fic is written. And yes, this is part one of what I think might be a three part story abt Wil and Ghostbur. Anyway, as always, thank you for reading Starry Nights! Stay Fresh and Minty, Folks!

#my writing #mcyt #dream smp #L'manburg #wilbur soot #jschlatt #philza #technoblade #tommyinnit #tubbo #sleepy bois inc #sleepy boys inc #sbi #starry nights au

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cas-backwards-tie · 4 years

Note

Super glad you’re writing for Five from TUA!!! His character’s so complex and it’s sad that people are afraid to approach it because of the actor’s age. Anyway, can I pretty please request for Five with this prompt: “you make me want. i never want anything.”? This definitely feels like something he would say!! 😭

Anonymous said: “I have never felt this safe before” + “I never want anything. anyone. now I want you.” with Five please 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Warnings: Season 2 spoilers!

A/N: Thank you! I agree! I think he’s very interesting and super intriguing. I hope it’s okay I combined you and another anon’s request cause the idea sort of just came to me and I realized I had done it when it was too late. Enjoy!

“I had to tell you,” Five uses the excuse. The boy kicks at the pebbles along the park pathway as the two of you talk in the park across the street from the Hargreeve’s mansion, somewhere public, yet away from prying eyes. “There are less than a handful of briefcases left in the world, and now that we’ve located one, we’ll be using it to get back to our proper timeline.” Though it was pretty obvious with the mention of the briefcase, a concept he’d explained to you a few months back upon his family’s arrival in your timeline, Five spells it out for you. “So the offer’s all yours…” he restates, having already offered a spot to you in the journey to his 2019 timeline.

“Right,” you force yourself to respond. Nodding ever so slowly, lips curled inward in an uncomfortable manner. The wind picks up, causing you to stuff your bare hands into your coat’s pockets. Brown leaves on the trees bristling in the air as they do their best to hang on to the branches that secure them to their tree, their home. “I’ll… have to think about it. Of course, my immediate instinct is to say ‘yes’, but… my family is here, and… my life is here. Everything and everyone I’ve ever known… I-I’m not saying that you or your family would ever do this… but if for some reason, Five, you ever got tired of having me around,” shaking your head you break the eye-contact between you two, “I’d be stranded in a timeline where I don’t belong.” A chuckle surpasses your lips and you offer him a wry smile. “Running from the time police for the rest of my life sounds fun in theory- especially with you- but… I just… need some time, okay? To think it through?” Silence falls between both of you, and you instantly realize something, causing you to fluster. “There’s- there’s no… time limit on this, right? You don’t need my answer in an hour or two?”

There’s a beat. He raises his head, piercing ice-blue eyes meeting your own as an amused smile appears on his lips for only a moment. “No. I don’t need an answer for another three days.”

Releasing a sigh of relief, you sit back against the park bench and relax into the wood seat. “I’ll let you know before then.” The man-or boy, as he appears-shifts on his feet, leading a question to pop into your mind. “Though… I am curious, and, want to talk to you about it… but only if you’re not in a rush… probably have someplace to be,” you whisper the last sentence more to yourself than him, knowing that he’s typically busy, always rushing from one place to the next.

Subtly licking his lips, he takes his hands out from his pockets and walks over to the bench, turning and plopping himself down onto the seat beside you, hands gripping either side of the wood. “I wouldn’t be here if there were a rush. Besides, I’ve… got time for you,” the sound of your name on his lips elicits a soft smile from you, “so what is it? Shoot.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue; your heart pounds a little faster in your chest as you stare at his stoic features. “Why-” you let out a shaky breath, “-what made you want to bring me, Five? We’ve barely known each other for half a year, and you know my family- my siblings- I- I know that technically things are pretty similar. The Sparrow Academy and The Umbrella Academy, but… you know how they are.” You won’t admit it. Voice the words they’ve been accusing your family of for months. The words echo in your mind: ‘villains’, ‘scoundrels’, ‘criminals’, ‘terrorists’. Drawn into the controversy, mind still debating over where your family’s intentions lie, Five’s voice drags you out of your thoughts.

“Well, you’re different. Isn’t that obvious?” He says with a shrug. “I knew it from the moment I saw you. Yeah, you weren’t with them when we were introduced- maybe that’s part of the reason- I don’t know, but I don’t really care.” Remaining quiet, Five searches your eyes and shifts a little on the bench seemingly uncontent. “Isn’t that enough? What else do you want me to say? I’ve never felt this safe before? That I think you’re too good to lose? Something like this? Cause you’re not gonna hear that from me!” He raises his voice just slightly, starting to get into bickering territory.

Your lips twitch as you try to keep yourself from smiling. “I think you just did,” you snarkily remark, only pushing his buttons even further, receiving a spiteful narrowed eye glare. With that, Five fully turns his body toward you in one swift motion, his eyes set on you.

“You see? That’s it. There’s just something about you. I don’t know exactly what it is, and sure, I could go and list a whole line of personality traits and quirks, but it’s not that- no- it’s something else. It’s not snark, or wit, or charm, or sass… it’s nothing like that, no.” He takes a moment to clench and unclench his jaw, eyes releasing from their narrowed position as he tilts his head in thought. “It doesn’t really matter. The point is: I never want anything, I never want anyone, but I want you. I want you to join us. You know you don’t deserve to live in their shadow and bow down to their ludicrous plans. It’ll be the end of you and your sanity. Come with us. You don’t have to do their dirty work anymore, I promise.”

#tua five #tua fic #tua #the umbrella academy fic #the umbrella academy spoilers #tua season 2 spoilers #spoilers #tua spoilers #season 2 spoilers #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five hargreeves x reader fluff #Five Hargreeves x Sparrow Academy!Reader #my writing #request #misc. sentences prompt list

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meta-squash · 4 years

Text

Brick Club 1.6.2 “How Jean Can Become Champ”

I’m sorry if some of this is muddled, I wrote some of this post to avoid doomscrolling yesterday (not that it worked). It’s also long.

First of all I gotta say, I do love how Hugo manages to get everything to slot into place, when he doesn’t use his handwavy magic. The chapter opens with Madeleine settling some “pressing business of the mayorality” just in case he decides to go and collect Cosette from Montfermeil himself. Obviously this doesn’t happen, but the fact that he’s arranged stuff in advance means he’s able to go to Arras etc and mayoral matters are settled even when he’s revealed his true identity.

Hugo calls Javert “this savage in the service of civilization, this odd mixture of Roman, Spartan, monk, and corporal.” I’ve always assumed the term “savage” was another reference to his Romani ancestry, as well as his origins within a jail. The rest of the references have to do with different types or levels of self-discipline and sense of duty. Essentially, this phrase is saying that Javert carries his sense of duty with him everywhere and rarely strays from it. I’ve nicked this straight from the wikipedia page on Roman pietas, but I feel like it fits so well: “A Roman with the virtue of pietas did not leave his religious duties at the door of the temple, but carried them with him everywhere, following the will of the gods in his business transactions and everyday life.”

"His whole being expressed abasement and steadfastness, an indescribably courageous dejection.” Weirdly I love this description. Javert hates being wrong, but to admit it is to act justly and according to duty, so he does it. Which is just so interesting because he could easily not even bother to tell Valjean about any of this, and just go on with his life as normal, and Valjean would be none the wiser. But that’s not how Javert functions. The difference between himself and other cops is that his sense of duty and justice extends to himself, which he says much more directly later on in the chapter. I just like that this description includes both his steadfastness to duty and his humiliation and self-frustration at being wrong and admitting it. “Courageous dejection” is such an interesting phrase, but it makes sense. It takes courage to admit you’re wrong, and even more when it’s something as egregious as informing on a superior.

Javert interrupts Valjean here, which I can’t decide what to think about. Part of me assumes that he interrupts Valjean because Valjean hasn’t even started to speak, so it’s still sort of....socially allowed for Javert to tack another bit of explanation onto what he just finished saying. Part of me wonders if Javert feels okay about interrupting Valjean either because he assumes he’s going to be dismissed anyway, and so this small rudeness of interrupting a superior doesn’t really matter, or because despite his sense of duty, he still feels quite a bit of aversion towards Valjean (which Hugo tells us a paragraph prior) and so is less bothered by interrupting him due to his dislike. Either way, it’s interesting that Javert is so keen on duty and correct conduct and yet he interrupts Valjean here.

“...you were severe to me the other day, unjustly. Be justly so today.” Wow okay so. Javert directly disobeyed and contested authority, argued with Madeleine and attempted to undermine his command to let Fantine go. Madeleine reacted accordingly, sending Javert away. And yet Javert feels that this treatment was unjust. I think the reason he sees it as unjust is because he sees himself as defending the honor of a mayor or authority figure (as well as a well-to-do citizen, Bamatabois) against a lowly prostitute. Despite the fact that Valjean specifically defended Fantine and offered her help, he’s still going to see his defense of authority and justice as being in the right over Valjean’s empathy towards her. (Sidenote: I love that he says “the other day” even though Fantine’s arrest was almost two months ago.)

Again, we get another concrete passage of time. It’s been six weeks since Fantine’s arrest. She’s still in hospital. Hugo isn’t huge on indicating exact passages of time. Lots of “eh, about three weeks later” or “maybe four months ago” in this book. Also the absolute mess of the Thenardier boys’ timeline. Anyway, these continuous references to how much time has passed is important. Hugo wants us to know how long Fantine was a sex worker for, and now how long she’s been languishing in bed, still sick.

Javert lists off things that he recognized in Valjean. All of these make sense to me except “information you obtained at Faverolles.” When has Madeleine ever mentioned being from or going to Faverolles? The Hapgood translates this as “inquiries which you had caused to be made at Faverolles.” This makes it sound like he actively tried to find his family. Hugo specifically tells us that by the time Valjean left prison, he had forgotten his family entirely. And yet, it seems here as if he made an effort to find them, or find out what happened to them, once he had the means. What’s interesting to me is that Valjean would do that at all. Part of me says, well of course he would, he still cares about his family, and probably wants to know what happened to them, not to mention he has this thing about rose-colored glasses and probably was hoping he’d get some information despite knowing deep down that they were lost to him. But another part of me wonders why he would do that, considering that it could compromise his identity. Also I can imagine he might associate his past self, even his pre-bread robbery self, with his convict-Valjean self and his past as a “Bad Person,” so I’m not sure he would want to think about or associate with his convict self in that way. Just the idea that he maybe sent to Faverolles for information about his family is an interesting little piece of information.

We also learn that he has a leg that drags a little (and at the very end of the novel we learn it’s because he spent 20 years with a chain on that leg). Something that I’ve sort of written about before, when I reread the book in February last year, is how much information about Valjean we don’t get from Hugo’s narration. Despite much of the book being from Valjean’s POV (or Hugo looking over Valjean’s shoulder, which is how I always imagine it), Hugo always stays respectfully distant compared to his narration of other characters. The post I wrote was mostly re: Valjean’s true Thoughts And Feelings, but it also goes for a lot of his physical aspects and actions as well. Hugo doesn’t tell us about Valjean’s dragging leg when he describes him, Javert has to reveal that to us. We are told a lot of his aspects or actions through other characters interpreting him to him (wow jesus does that phrase make sense?) rather than Hugo showing/telling us while narrating through Valjean.

“He was very poor. Nobody paid any attention to him. Such people get by, one hardly knows how.” So my first thought is that this line is sort the opposite of what I talked about above. Javert knows how such people get by. Partly because he sees it every day, and partly because he grew up like that. While we just got evidence of Valjean remembering his past, this is evidence of Javert rejecting and forgetting his own. And my other thought is again how applicable this is to modern day. Cops, rich people, etc turn away despite knowing how hard poor people struggle. They know “how these people get by,” which is barely, and they know why and they know what can help or fix it, but they turn away and absolutely refuse to see it.

“Such people, when they are not mud, are dust.” This is such a pretty and poetic way of declaring such a gross opinion. But also it’s such an interesting pair of descriptors. When you’re poor the way Valjean was, or the Thenardiers will be, you are in a position to be blown away by society and by poverty, to be dirt that disappears and spreads far and wide with the gust of wind, and if you’re trying to locate a certain speck of dirt that you had been looking at before the wind blew, you wouldn’t be able to identify it. Or you’re in a position to be bogged down, to be stuck packed together, trying to survive, begging and stealing off of others around you because there’s no other way to survive, being stepped on and scoffed at by people in a better position than you, and then scraped up and tossed in a gutter or the galleys when it gets to be too much.

We get an age! Valjean is fifty-four. I feel like this is important mostly for his hair later on. Fifty is old enough to be greying but I think this makes us aware that he’s not yet old enough to be totally white-haired, and the change is a shock for that reason as well.

Holy shit this is the most adjectives I’ve seen used to describe a single character within a single chapter so far. Words describing Javert or Javert’s actions in this chapter: respectfully, conscientious, clearheaded, straightforward, sincere, upright, austere, fierce, violent, soldierly, cold, patient, genuine humility, tranquil, resigned, serious, calm, gloomy, sad, abasement, steadfastness, courageous dejection, solemnity, incorruptible, supplicating, simplicity, dignity, unenlightened, stern, pure, desperate, resolute, bizarre grandeur, oddly honest. The biggest takeaway from all of these, I think, is how much Javert’s pious loyalty to justice and morality is not corrupt, at least in the usual sense. It’s misguided, it’s unsympathetic, but he genuinely believes in his own actions. He is aware of his severity, but he doesn’t see it as cruelty, he sees it as justice. He doesn’t acknowledge the evil of his actions because he doesn’t see them as evil. He is (and I want to go into this later for 1.8.3) a personification of the “evil of good,” and an illustration of how justice can go too far. But he does everything with that air of honesty and cold dignity, because he genuinely believes that his morals and his dedication to justice is in the right.

“And now that I see the real Jean Valjean, I do not understand how I could have believed anything else. I beg your pardon.” So we’ve already established that Javert does not change his mind or admit wrong easily. We also already know he doesn’t like Valjean anyway. The only reason, it seems, that he is admitting to this mistake and asking for dismissal, is because of Valjean’s position of authority. Javert does not do mercy; once he believes someone is bad, they are forever bad. The exception is those in power, those who he sees as authority figures, even when he questioned them just a chapter or two earlier. His sense of duty overrides his morality. Which I think is a major point for him. This is what screws him over later on at the end of the book. When his morality drastically changes, he can’t change his sense of duty to fit it. The issue in this chapter a mistake which is fairly excusable: there is another person he can transfer that moral judgement onto (Champmathieu) and Valjean’s position as an authority figure overrides any of the moral suspicions Javert had about him before this transfer of moral judgement. If Madeleine-Valjean had been just a regular merchant, I wonder if Javert would have admitted to his identity mistake but also continued to be suspicious, simply because his instincts told him that if you think someone is bad, they’re probably bad.

Oh okay so this actually potentially answers my question from last chapter. Javert says “Scaling a wall and theft includes everything. It is a case not for a police court but for the superior court.” So does that mean the police could just toss people into prison for however long they liked if the crime was a misdemeanor?

Javert mentions that the police have not found Petit Gervais. I mostly want to note this because Hugo told us earlier on that Valjean gives money to every Savoyard that passes through M-sur-M and asks their name, and it seemed to imply that in doing that he’s maybe secretly hoping Petit Gervais will turn up. If Valjean hasn’t found Petit Gervais yet, I doubt the cops will.

Javert fundamentally misunderstands how Valjean is sly and cunning. Because Valjean is quite clever and cunning, but the difference is nearly all of his cunning comes not from direct lies or playing dumb the way that Javert is implying, but by using his surroundings and other people’s assumptions to his own advantage. (Plus disguises and wigs, but we don’t see that until Paris.) He buys himself time through things like the fake address trick during the Thenardier encounter, or wandering and disappearing into the woods like Boulatruelle observed, or taking advantage of incomplete information, like becoming Fauchelevent’s brother or burning his passport and becoming Father Madeleine. Valjean’s whole thing is being able to very quickly scan a room, register things, and then adapt and/or react to his situation quite quickly. (Side note: What’s interesting to me is that he’s great at adapting and acting when it comes to action but he is rather stilted and slow when it comes to emotional reaction or adaptation.)

“...tell her to make her complaint against the carter Pierre Chesnelong. He is a brutal fellow, he almost crushed this woman and her child.” Whenever Hugo mentions carts there’s usually symbolism there. In this case it sounds to me like a parallel of Javert, Fantine, and Cosette. At this point, Fantine is still alive though very sick, and Valjean is planning to go to Montfermeil himself to get Cosette. Javert’s imprisonment of Fantine would have destroyed Cosette along with Fantine, just as Chesnelong’s cart nearly crushed Mme Buseaupied and her child. She gets to make a complaint, she has the potential for Chesnelong to be punished. Fantine doesn’t have that, not to the same extent. She dies before it could happen anyway, but even if it could, she’s a prostitute who would be complaining against a cop, there’s not a lot of power on her side, even with Valjean vouching for her. But at this point, she’s only been “nearly” crushed; her child will be with her soon, at least she get that reunion despite being mortally ill, and Javert’s punishment for nearly crushing Fantine and Cosette is, weirdly, Valjean’s refusal to acknowledge his sense of duty and dismiss him.

“Besides, this is an offense that concerns only me.” This almost exactly parallels Valjean’s comment on Fantine insulting him: “The insult is to me. I can do what I please about it.” This is the second time that Valjean has denied, to his face, Javert’s sense of justice and duty by claiming offenses as a personal matter rather than a judicial one.

“In my life I have often been severe to others. It was just. I was right. Now if I were not severe toward myself, all I have justly done would become injustice. Should I spare myself more than others. No. You see, if I had been eager only to punish others and not myself, that would have been despicable!” I mentioned it above, but this is just so telling. Javert knows how severe he is, but he doesn’t see it as cruelty or lack of empathy, he sees his severity as totally in the right because it is for the good of justice. He especially sees it as good because he is willing to treat himself in a similar way. But this does make me wonder, like, would any treatment he got be as callous as the way he treats others? He’s a cop, and while he’s not the favorite of the other cops, he’s still an authority figure. So if he asked for others to be severe to him the way he had been severe to others, would they be? Or would they treat him better because he is or was an authority figure? Anyway, this line really establishes how entrenched in his own morals Javert really is. I feel like these lines here are the entire setup for his conflict and death at the end of the book. If he didn’t believe in treating himself with the same severity as others, the stakes wouldn’t be as high re: the consequences for letting Valjean go free.

Javert calls the defense of a lower person against a higher-up “ill-begotten kindness,” which I think is a really good indication of the way his view of justice works. Defending someone like Fantine, who has been beaten down and nearly broken by the system, isn’t empathy or charity to him, but kindness that shouldn’t be. He seems to think that in situations like this, the person who is being pardoned or defended shouldn’t be, and is sort of like gunning for special treatment by accepting that kindness.

“Good God, it is easy to be kind, the difficulty is to be just.” Maybe this is a weird way to look at this line, but I can’t help but think about Valjean’s conflict after leaving Digne when I read this. At that point, for Valjean, the difficult was in choosing to be kind, rather than choosing to continue to ride his old instincts that would lead to more crime. Javert learns at the end of the novel how difficult it is to be kind when all you know is being “just,” and it kills him. But here Javert equates kindness with moral leniency or maybe even moral abandonment, rather than with empathy and aid. To Javert, people who have done something criminal or morally bad cannot change and cannot be rehabilitated and will always be bad. Which makes me wonder what he thinks kindness actually is. What is Javert’s version of kindness, since he sees kindness in the form of aid or sympathy as reprehensible?

I wonder if Javert is thinking of Fauchelevent when he says, “I have hands, I can till the ground.” Would Javert have changed if he’d gone into labor work for a while, like Fauchelevent? Would work as someone who has no power over others have changed him?

Javert describes himself as a spy in a derogatory way. I think this is the only time he ever references spying in a derogatory way towards himself. However, he has been described as a spy or having spy-like qualities more than once by Hugo. For just a moment, he agrees with the narrator and reader about what he’s like, only it’s from a completely different angle. We can see that he’s “like a police spy” because he’s merciless and inflexible and generally unwilling to change any of his ways at all. He sees himself as “like a police spy” because he has breached a social contract and not only falsely suspected but reported on a superior.

A thought on Tome 1.6: I find it really interesting that despite the fact that this tome is titled “Javert,” it doesn’t include 1.5.13, which contains more of Javert’s narrative than 1.6.1 does. In 1.5.13, we see the drastic effect Valjean’s actions have on Javert, and the emotional turmoil he goes through in questioning authority the way that he does. And yet, that chapter is contained in “The Descent.” Instead, the Tome starts with “Now, Rest,” and Javert’s only role in this chapter is to write the letter to the prefect of police. So despite the Tome being titled after him, Javert is really only emotionally and narratively relevant for the second chapter. I would think that it might have been better to bookend the Tome with two chapters that were most relevant to him, 1.5.13 (which would be 1.6.1 then) and 1.6.2. Instead, 1.6.1 focuses more on Fantine’s condition which, though caused by Javert, doesn’t actually include or affect him at this point. At the same time, the last Tome was titled “The Descent.” This descent of Fantine’s levels out once she has fainted, which is a good transition into the next Tome.

#les miserables #les miserables meta #brickclub #lm 1.6.2 #les mis #les mis meta #also ugh i'm sorry i use valjean and madeleine interchangeably and i've given up trying not to

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