#and it was so much better just a few hours ago! why did it deteriorate so much so fast so randomly! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pitubea1910 · 4 years ago

Text

Ready

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Featuring: Avengers

Word count: 5k

Warning: some swearing, alcohol, mention of sex, a bit of teasing.

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Masterlist

A few months ago, you and nine other recruits received a phone call saying to be at the training facilities first time in the morning. Once you got there, you were told that you would be receiving extra training, long hours and double effort. Whenever you asked why, they just said it was classified.

After two months of training ten hours per day, seven days a week, being put through several trials and tests, you were called to the office of Maria Hill –the head of all the recruitment process-. To your surprise, she wasn’t alone when you got there: Nick Fury was there.

You had never met him in person, although you had heard many stories about him. And his presence was as intimidating as you imagined. Or even more. He had a deep voice that shook to your core, a way of talking that let you know he was someone not to mess with, he owned S.H.I.E.L.D and he knew it.

“Agent (Y/L/N)”, Hill started as soon as you took a seat after recovering from the surprise of finding Nick Fury in the room. “Let me introduce you to Nicholas Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Yeah, I know who… he is”, you said with a small smile. There was no one around the facility who didn’t know who this man was. Maria Hill smiled too.

“Nice to meet you, Agent (Y/L/N)”, Fury said. “I have been following your training for the last two months quite closely.”

Your felt your mouth go dry. He had been following your training?

“And I have to say it is quite impressive”, he added. He took a tablet from Hill’s desk and swiped the screen a couple of times. “When it comes to strategy there’s no one who can beat you, you’re strong, fast, your combat skills could be a match for Black Widow’s… definitely impressive.”

“Thank you, sir”, was all you could say. You knew you were good, but you never thought you would be good enough to hear it from Nick Fury himself. He was a legend.

“As you know, these last two months we have been testing you on a daily basis”, Hill said and you nodded. Of course you knew. You could feel it in every bone and muscle in your body. “What you don’t know is why.”

“And I guess you’re going to tell me?” You asked, looking at the two of them.

Fury put the tablet back on the desk without taking his eye off you. You would be lying if you said he didn’t make you nervous, but you had the feeling that looking away wouldn’t help you there, so you were determined to hold his eye. After a few minutes, you thought you could see a hint of smile on Fury’s lips, but you probably just imagined it.

“The Avengers have requested a new member for their team”, he simply said.

If you had been drinking something, you would have choked on it or spitted out for sure. Out of all the things you thought this meeting was about, the last thing you expected was something like this.

“The Avengers?” You asked. “As in… Captain America, Black Widow and Iron Man?”

“Are there any other Avengers that we don’t know of?” Fury asked with a teasing tone.

“Fair enough”, you mumbled.

“We chose 10 candidates and we have been putting you through tests and trials without telling you why”, Hill said now taking the tablet and showing you some graphics. “All of you started off with enthusiasm, showing the best results you had got since you got recruited. However, as the weeks passed, most of your colleagues’ performance started to deteriorate.”

“We had meetings with them”, Fury said. “We asked if there was something wrong, why this change when they had proven to be among the best of their class. They said that they were tired. That they didn’t know what was going on, what was the point of all this suffering.”

“I never got any meeting”, you said.

“Because your performance only got better”, Hill said, showing you a graphic with your name on it. “You have been the only one who, despite not having a purpose, a goal, not knowing what was going on, kept on working as hard as you did on the first day.”

“And that, Agent (Y/L/N)”, Fury said, “is exactly what we need. Someone who won’t fail, who won’t slow down, who will be there every day no matter what, with the same spirit as the first day. However, as much as we thought you are the perfect candidate, we are not the ones who have the final say.”

“Then?” You asked confused.

“We sent all of your files to The Avengers, with all the progress of the last two months. And they have made a decision. They want you, Agent (Y/L/N).”

A week later you packed all of your belongings in a suitcase and left the S.H.I.E.L.D HQ in a black SUV to move into The Avengers Headquarters in Upstate New York. Their welcome had been incredible. Since the very first moment you walked in the residential quarters of the huge compound, you were warmly welcomed by the team.

It took you a time to get used to your new life. You still had to train every day and soon you found out that it was a harder training than the one you did as a simple recruit. Obviously, they didn’t hold their punches. At first, you ended up at the infirmary most of the days, but eventually you started getting stronger and getting used to this new way of fighting. There was less theory and more instinct. And, soon enough, you started going on missions.

At first, they would be recon missions, nothing major. However, in a few months you proved yourself to be able to do more. You would never forget your first mission with Steve, Tony, Bucky and Natasha. It was the most exciting, exhausting and hard day of your life and, despite coming back injured, everyone kept on telling you how amazed they were by you, your work and your skills.

They took care of you, visited you every day until you got better, helped with your recovery and to get back on your feet in no time. You had found a family in them and it looked like they saw you as one of them now.

“You know what day is it tomorrow?” You asked when you walked into the kitchen.

You had just finished your training and had walked into the kitchen to have a smoothie. As usual, since you had the same training hours scheduled, Bucky was there as well.

Since the beginning, you had started training with Bucky as your mentor. You didn’t really fight against him, since he could knock you out without even trying, but he was there to observe and correct, give you advice, put more weight on your weights and push your limits.

When you first started training with him, he wouldn’t talk much. But, eventually, he started opening up and you gladly discovered that underneath all that sulking attitude was a really funny, easy going, teasing and loving kind of guy.

You spent so much time together that soon you found yourself looking around for him every time you walked into a room, sitting in front of him in every meal, next to him every time you would watch a movie, spending hours in his room just talking or playing videogames. You just couldn’t picture your life without him in it anymore.

“Saturday?” He said, throwing a bottle of water at you, which you caught without problem.

“Something else?” You asked, unscrewing the cap. Bucky thought for a moment and shook his head. “Really? I should be offended. A year ago, your life changed.”

“Did it?” He asked, a smirk forming on his lips. You narrowed your eyes and threw the cap of the bottle at him. He laughed and dodged it. “I know, I know. It will be a year since the most annoying person in the world walked through those doors with that lost puppy look on her face.”

“I wasn’t lost!” You exclaimed.

“So you’re annoying?” He teased.

“Not as much as you are”, you said and stuck your tongue out. “Maybe we should celebrate.”

“Why?”

“When was the last time someone put up with you for so long?” This time, he was the one narrowing his eyes at you, which made you laugh. “But seriously, it doesn’t have to be a party. But we could have a drink all together or something.”

“Ask Tony”, Bucky said. “He will organise anything in the next 45 minutes.”

“Good point”, you said nodding your head. “I’ll talk to him.”

You were about to walk out of the kitchen, fully intending to talk to Tony as soon as possible, when Bucky called your name. You turned around to find him walking over you.

“Yes?” You asked.

Once he was standing in front of you, he sighed and moved some hair that had flown out of your ponytail and put it behind your ear. He caressed your cheek and looked into your eyes, making your heart beat louder and faster. You took a deep breath, trying not to look down at his lips.

“A year ago, I met the most important person in my life”, he said. “She’s strong, funny, annoying as hell and incredibly oblivious. But I wouldn’t change her for anything.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek softly before winking an eye at you and walking out of the kitchen, leaving you flustered, confused and on the edge of fainting.

***

Just like Bucky had said, as soon as you said to Tony that you would like to have a little celebration, he took out his phone and started organising a little party. You made it clear that you didn’t want or need anything big, but once Tony started organising a party there was no way of knowing the size of it until you were in it.

“I thought you didn’t want anything big”, Bucky said when you stepped into the main living room of the residential quarters the following evening.

Looking around, you barely knew anyone. You had no idea how Tony had managed to pull this out in such short notice. There was people everywhere, food, alcohol music and banners everywhere saying ‘Happy Avengesary (Y/N)’. It was incredible.

“This is what happens when you leave Tony in charge”, Steve, who walked in after you two, said.

“I’m not complaining”, Natasha said with a huge smile as she looked around. “See you later guys.”

“Where is she going?” You asked, looking at her as she got lost in the crowd.

“She has seen that IT guy she likes”, Steve said with a chuckle.

“I say we make the best out of this and get a drink”, Sam said.

“And that’s the most intelligent idea I have heard so far”, you said and took Sam’s hand to follow him through the crowd.

The bartenders that Tony had hired knew exactly who you were and the reason you were having this celebration. So the moment they saw you, they made sure you had a drink in your hand without even asking for it. It looked like Tony had told them what you liked.

The next couple of hours went by in a blur. Despite not knowing most of the people in the party, it was obvious that they knew who you were and many kept on stopping you to congratulate you on the work you had been doing the past year or just to take a photo with you. Definitely, that was something you would never get used to: being a public figure.

When you finally managed to sit down on the couch, next to Bucky, you didn’t even know how many hands you had shaken, how many photos you had taken and how many hugs you had given. But your mind was buzzing.

“How you doing, superstar?” Bucky smiled when you let yourself fall on the couch.

“Exhausted”, you admitted.

“It will wear off, don’t worry”, Sam said, patting your shoulder. “Once they get used to you, they won’t pay much attention.”

“Unless you’re Captain America or Thor, of course”, Clint winked.

“Shut up”, Steve rolled his eyes.

“It took us an hour to get some milk from the grocery store”, Clint said. “An hour because people kept on asking Steve for photos and autographs.”

“One would think that after a century, no one would be impressed by Captain America right?” Sam laughed.

“It’s not Captain America”, you said. “It’s… you.”

“What?” Steve asked confused, which made you laugh.

“Are you really that oblivious?” Wanda laughed as well.

“You’re a specimen, man”, Sam winked playfully, making you all laugh.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that”, Steve said as you could all see him blushing.

“Oh, trust me. It is”, you said. “Everyone has a crush on Captain America”, you added.

“Do you?” Bucky asked, his arm casually over the back of the couch and your shoulders.

“Don’t you?” You asked back with a laugh.

“I saw him putting newspaper in his shoes to look taller”, Bucky shrugged. “It’s kind of a turn off.”

“So that means that there is a turn on?” Clint asked wiggling his eyebrows.

“There’s always at least one turn on”, you smirked.

“Oh really?” Bucky smirked. “What turns you on, (Y/L/N)?”

“Right back at you, Barnes”, you said, looking at him with a playful smile.

“Okay, this just gave me an idea!” Sam said.

You forced yourself to look away from Bucky, whose eyes were burning through yours. You had felt that electricity running between you two many times before, but you had never felt the heat you felt at the moment. So you needed to focus on something else beside the warmth of his body next to yours.

“Please, enlighten us”, Natasha said.

“What about an old good game of Truth or Dare?” He suggested. You laughed out loud, just like Wanda and Natasha.

“Are we 16 now?” Steve said, although he didn’t look like he rejected the idea completely.

“Afraid of airing your dirty laundry, Rogers?” Clint asked.

“I have no dirty laundry to air”, the alluded said with an innocent smile.

“Yeah right”, Natasha laughed. “Okay, let’s do this”, she said.

“Seriously?” You asked.

“Why not?” Natasha shrugged. “It’s always fun to get to know each other in different ways”, she winked.

You sighed and shrugged. It looked like you didn’t have a choice. As soon as you all agreed, Sam asked a waiter to bring a couple of bottles of tequila, shot glasses for everyone and an empty bottle. In addition, Bucky he asked for a bottle of the Asgardian liquor Steve and Bucky used to drink in these situations.

“It’s no fun if two of us can’t get drunk”, he explained once they brought the small bottle and everything was settled.

“Fair enough”, you laughed. “Okay, who goes first?” You asked.

“You’re the honouree, so…” Sam said.

“Okay”, you laughed and spun the bottle that stopped pointing at Sam, who smiled widely at you. “Truth or dare?”

“Let’s start with a truth”, Sam said.

“Have you ever practised kissing in a mirror?” You smiled.

“First, that’s a lame question. Second… yes”, he admitted, making you all laugh. “I was 10, okay? And I was nervous about a potential first kiss”, he shrugged.

“That’s cute”, you admitted still laughing.

“Okay, here we go”, Sam spun the bottle and this time it landed on Bucky.

“Truth”, Bucky quickly said.

“Mmm…” Sam smirked after looking at you for a brief second. “Would you make out with someone in this group?”

Bucky looked at Sam like he wanted to kill him and you felt him tense up beside you. You looked up to him although his eyes were fixed on Sam, whose smiled only grew bigger.

“You can always drink. Although that will give us half an answer”, Sam shrugged.

“I would”, Bucky finally said. You raised both eyebrows and looked up again, surprised.

“With who?” You asked.

“That’s not part of the question, doll”, Bucky winked before spinning the bottle, which landed on Natasha. Yet, you didn’t stop thinking about it.

“Dare, of course”, she shrugged.

“I dare you to go to that IT guy and ask him out”, Bucky smiled.

“You know I don’t ask out”, Natasha said.

“Is Black Widow backing off a dare?” Clint smiled.

Natasha narrowed her eyes, her pride obviously taken the best of her. Immediately, she got up and you all looked at her while she walked up to the IT guy. It was a quick conversation and, by the end of it, the guy looked like was about to marry her while she came back with her face as red as her hair.

“I’ll get back at you, Barnes”, she said, spinning the bottle.

There were all kind of dares and questions. The more you drank, the juicier they got without even realising it. At some point, Steve was playing without his shirt –to the delight of many of the guests-, Clint was speaking only with the vowel E, Wanda was wearing Natasha’s clothes and viceversa and you were on your pyjamas.

“Okay, let’s go”, Natasha said when it was her turn to spin the bottle after reading out loud the last text she had sent –Rated X-. “Finally!” She said when it landed on Bucky. “Barnes?”

All along, every time it was Bucky’s turn, there had been numerous hints of him liking someone, someone he would sleep with, his crush, but no name had come out of his mouth. You didn’t even know Bucky liked someone, which was strange since you spent so much time together, and to say you were curious was a misunderstanding.

“Truth”, he said.

“Playing it safe, huh?” Natasha smiled.

“You’re a dangerous woman, Romanoff”, Bucky said, his fingers brushing your shoulder absently.

“Fine. Have it your way”, she said. “Is (Y/N) the one you’ve been talking about all along? The one you would make out with, sleep with, have a crush on?”

Bucky’s whole body tensed up, just like yours, with that question. It was obvious she had been saving it for quite a long time and it looked like everyone was waiting for someone to drop the bomb. They all looked at Bucky smiling a little, as if they knew something you ignored, waiting.

“Damn you, Natasha”, Bucky finally chuckled.

“Would you prefer a dare?” She smiled widely.

“I don’t trust your dares”, Bucky said.

“Then… answer or drink. Although… drinking would be an answer itself”, she innocently shrugged and winked an eye at him.

You saw Bucky biting his lower lip without looking at you, his eyes fixed on Nat, as he was deliberately trying not to look at you. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you swore you would explode if he didn’t say something soon.

“Yes”, he finally said, taking your breath away. “She is”

And he spun the bottle.

***

The game was finished in no time after that moment. Although you didn’t pay any attention to it anymore. All you could do was look at Bucky, waiting for him to look at you and explain what he had just said. However, all he did was smirking whenever he felt his eyes on you.

“Okay, come here”, he said once everyone had scattered around.

He took your hand and took you through the crowd. You didn’t know where he would take you until he scanned his finger print on the door that lead to Tony’s office. He let you walked in first and looked around to make sure no one was looking before closing the door.

“What was that?” You finally asked after a few moments.

“Do I really need to explain?” He smiled, getting closer to you which only made you nervous.

“I think? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” You asked.

“When would I say anything? When I was kicking your ass during training?” He asked.

“You don’t kick my ass”, you said. “We never even fight against each other because you’re too afraid of me kicking your ass”, you added, crossing your arms.

“You’re so damn blind”, he laughed shaking his head. “I don’t fight you because I would never forgive myself if I ever hurt you. Even if it happened during training.”

You blinked a few times and looked away, trying so hard not to blush and failing completely. He was now so close that you could even feel his breath on you. It wasn’t the first time he was this close, but it was the first time it made you so nervous.

“That’s just another way of saying it”, you mumbled.

Bucky placed his index finger on your chin to make you look up at him and to his eyes before rubbing your cheek softly. His eyes moved down to your lips, just like yours to his, just in time to see him biting his bottom lip. Your breath got caught in your throat and an urgent need to kiss him overcame you.

“You drive me insane in every possible way, (Y/L/N)”, he said leaning in. You closed your eyes instinctively but his kiss never came. “But you’re not ready for it yet.”

You opened your eyes to see him slowly walking backwards, with a smirk on his face.

“What…? What are you doing?” You asked breathless.

“I could kiss you right now and make you realise that you feel the same way about me”, he said, a hand on the doorknob. “But I have decided that, if I have waited a year, I can wait a few more days and make you want it, drive you crazy just like you do with me.”

“Don’t walk away, James. Don’t you dare”, you said.

“See you later, doll”, he said.

Before you could even take a step forward, he opened the door and walked out the office, leaving you with your mouth open and your brain completely melted.

What the hell had just happened?

You had to take some time before you went back out to the party. Your heart had never beat like this. It felt like it would jump out of your chest at any given time and getting it back to ‘normal’ wasn’t easy.

When you finally made your way back out, you spotted Bucky at the bar, talking to Steve. When he saw you, his eyes were on you for a moment, while his lips formed a smug smirk, and then looked back at his friend to continue the conversation. All you wanted to do was go and punch him in that perfect face to kiss him afterwards. Or maybe kiss him first and punch later. You were confused.

The rest of the night you were completely unfocused. It felt like you couldn’t hold a single conversation, like you were zooming in and out all the time, looking around for Bucky and imagining his lips, hands, body on yours. In the end, you decided to leave the party earlier than expected. It wasn’t like anyone would notice, since most of the guests were too drunk to pay any more attention to you.

Once in your room and in your pyjamas –an oversize t-shirt and your underwear-, you laid on your bed and looked at the ceiling, thinking about what the hell had happened and trying to process how you felt about it.

It would be a huge lie to say that you didn’t have feelings for Bucky. You knew they had always been there, but you had always considered them platonic. He was one of the most attractive men you ever met and he was also kind, funny, witty, smart and incredibly thoughtful. You would have never thought he felt the same way about you. You thought all those times he flirted with you, it was just a game to him. Maybe you had been wrong.

You didn’t even know when you had fallen asleep, but when you opened your eyes, you heard the rain against the huge window of your room. You sighed and rubbed your eyes, your mind immediately racing as memories from last night flooded your head. Damn James Buchanan Barnes.

When you heard the buzzing of your phone, you sighed and picked it up from the bedside table to find a text message from the man himself.

“Training in 10 minutes”, the text said. He had to be kidding you. It was Sunday.

And did he really think he could just act like nothing?

“Sorry. As someone said to me last night: I’m not ready yet”, you texted back.

He read the text immediately, but it took him a little while to reply.

“If you’re not in the training room in 10 minutes, I’ll drag you there myself”, you shivered, knowing he fully intended to act on his threat. But you weren’t going to just do as he told you.

“Didn’t you say I drive you insane? Then good luck, babe”, you texted, smirking to yourself as you pictured the look on his face.

You knew what was going to happen. Maybe you were pushing him a bit, but you weren’t going to let him dictate what to do or when to get up. Especially after how flustered and frustrated he had left you the previous night.

Yes, you were dying to kiss him. That was all you could think about since last night. But, unless you were mistaken, he wanted that kiss as much as you did and you were going to get it, even if you had to drive him insane.

At first, you thought he would go to your room immediately, but it looked like he really waited those 10 minutes in case you showed up. Or maybe he was just waiting outside of your room, because exactly 11 minutes later, there was a knock on your room. You smiled to yourself and stretched out still in bed, but didn’t move.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you please tell him that I am not training today?” You said to the A.I.

“You know I can hear you, right?” You heard Bucky’s voice on the other side of the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you please ask Tony to make the rooms soundproof? That would be extremely useful for certain people”, you said.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, open (Y/N)’s door, please”, Bucky said.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Each room has its own personal protocols and can only be lifted with the permission of said owner”, the A.I said, which made you smile.

“Too bad, soldier”, you said.

“You know I can just kick him in, right?”

You narrowed your eyes, looking at the ceiling. You knew he could, but did you want to push him until that point? It could be fun, but you didn’t want to deal with Tony afterwards. You knew how much he hated when doors got kicked in –something that happened surprisingly often in the compound-.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, unlock the door, please”, you finally said.

The A.I. obeyed and unlocked the door. In a second, Bucky walked in and closed behind him. You looked at him from the bed, still not moving, and smiled. He was wearing his usual training gear –black sweatpants and a black t-shirt- and was looking at you with an eyebrow raised, waiting.

“Do you need anything?” You asked.

“You were supposed to be in the gym 5 minutes ago”, he said with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, well…” you stretched out again, making sure your t-shirt went up a few inches, enough to let him see your underwear and belly. “I’m kind of having a lazy day”, you said with a smile as you saw his eyes on your exposed skin.

“I know what you’re doing”, he said. You raised both eyebrows.

“And what is it?” You asked innocently.

“Pushing me”, he said.

“Don’t be so egocentric, Barnes”, you said. “Not everything is around you.”

“Oh really?” He said.

Slowly, he walked around the bed, taking a seat just next to you. You got nervous when he leaned in, placing one hand around you to support himself as he got closer. You looked at his lips and then his eyes, which hide the smile he forced himself not to show.

“Tell me you haven’t been thinking about kissing me since last night”, he said in a low voice.

“I…” you mumbled, your eyes moving down to his lips, which finally curved up into a small smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you going to tell me that if I kissed you right now…” he said, almost brushing your lips with his, “you wouldn’t melt against me?”

You took a deep breath through your nose, trying to control your heart rate, which felt close to impossible. All about him was overwhelming and you had no idea how to manage his closeness. You just wanted to grab him by the neck and kiss him. However, it looked as if he was reading your mind. Just when you were about to move your hands, he moved his and pinned your wrists against the bed.

“Gym. 5 minutes”, he whispered so close that you thought you would die if he didn’t kiss you.

Then, he just let go, got up and walked to the door. You couldn’t believe this was the second time in less than twelve hours that he was going to leave you like this. You looked at the door to see him smirking before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, punching the mattress.

Five minutes later, you walked through the doors of the gym, still sulking and flustered. You had been quickly to put some leggings and a training top. If Bucky wasn’t going to give in or let you kiss him, you needed some other way to let your frustration out. Fighting.

“Maybe today we can try something different”, you said to Bucky, acting as if nothing had happened, as if your mind wasn’t full of imaged of him kissing your whole body.

“Oh yeah? What is it?” Bucky asked while he adjusted the punching bag.

“Why don’t we fight?” You asked. Bucky laughed quietly and shook his head. “What?”

“Have you warmed up?” He asked.

“I’m warm enough, thank you” you said making him smile. Anyway, you started stretching since you didn’t want to pull any muscle or cause any injury. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You know I’m not going to fight you, doll”, he said, taking the bandages from the floor. “I could hurt you.”

Your eyes went to his hand as he started wrapping the bandages around it, wrapping it tightly. You had always loved watching that routine. There was something about the way he moved his hands, how he wrapped the bandages around them that was hypnotizing.

“You won’t”, you said, coming out of your little trance.

“How do you know it?” He asked.

“Because I trust you”, you shrugged. He looked at you for a moment and smiled.

“You just want an excuse to hit me because you’re frustrated”, he said.

“That’s just a bonus”, you shrugged and took the other pair of bandages from the floor when you finished stretching. “I really think it would be helpful to fight against an actual person and not just a bag.”

“You have fought against Natasha, Wanda, Peter, Scott and Clint many times”, he said.

You sighed while you wrapped the bandage around your left hand. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to change his mind. It wasn’t the first time you had this conversation and you understood his fear of hurting you, but you really wanted to punch him. Maybe if you caught him by surprise?

When you finished wrapping your hands, you looked at him. He was checking his own bandages and looked kind of focused on it. Without even taking a minute to consider your next move, you quickly took a step forward and threw your leg up to his stomach. To your surprise, your kick caught him completely off guard. Unfortunately, you weren’t strong enough to make him fall, but he took a few steps back with a hand against his stomach.

“What was that?” He asked with an amused smile.

“If you don’t want to fight me, okay”, you shrugged. “I’ll fight you.”

“Stop before you get hurt”, he said.

“Stop patronising me”, you said through gritted teeth.

Quickly, you launched against him, but he just took your arm before it came in contact with him and pushed you aside as if you were a mundane annoying fly. You groaned to yourself and turned to look at him. He looked at you smiling, which only infuriated you even more.

“It’s just facts, doll”, he shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes but decided to launch again. This time, you went for his face, but he grabbed your arm and twisted so your back was against his chest. You took a deep breath at the contact when his lips were on your cheek.

“Stop”, he whispered and nibbled your neck.

With a grunt, you stomped your heel against his feet. He hissed, which was enough for you to drive your elbow against his ribs and your fist against his nose when he leaned down breathless. You hooked your arms around his neck and used your weight to bring him down, straddling his waist and pinning his arms to the ground.

You knew how easily he could just turn the situation around, but maybe he didn’t expect to find himself like this so easily and all he did was looking at you with a smile playing on his lips.

“What are you going to do now, (Y/L/N)?” He asked.

If you were honest to yourself, you just wanted to tease him like he had teased you. But you also knew you weren’t strong enough, not after last night and that morning. You bite your lip and leaned down, wondering if this time he would finally give in. He didn’t move, but his eyes turned a bit darker as his eyes moved down to your lips.

“I should just leave you wanting it”, you whispered against his lips. He chuckled a little.

“You wouldn’t make it to the door”, he warned you. You knew it was true.

You let go of one of his hands, which quickly moved to your hair, moving it out of the way. You took a deep breath, enjoying the moment, before finally closing the distance between your lips.

The moment your lips touched, you let go of his other hand. Immediately, Bucky flipped you around to have you pinned under him and kiss you deeply. You wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to bring him impossibly close to you. A moan escaped his throat, making you smirk against his lips while your hands sneaked under his t-shirt and brushed his warm skin.

You wanted him. Badly. But, of course, he wasn’t going to give you everything in just a moment, let alone on the gym floor. Instead, he pulled away after a few minutes and looked at you.

“You always get your way, huh?” He whispered, gently brushing your nose with his, a gesture you never saw coming from the big and fiery Winter Soldier.

“I have my skills”, you smiled.

With a smile, Bucky got up and helped you up as well, although he didn’t move away from you. He caressed your cheek and kissed your forehead.

“What now?” You asked a bit nervous.

“Maybe we should start with breakfast?” He suggested.

You laughed nervously and nodded, letting him take your hand and lead you out of the gym while all you could think about was kissing him all over again. Maybe over breakfast.

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cdroloisms · 3 years ago

Note

i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell.

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic.

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad.

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

#tw torture #tw abuse #tw violence #tw broken bones #tw injuries #tw mental deterioration #tw isolation #tw panic attack #tw self deprecation #tw trauma #tw memory loss #tw death #tw dark content #tw dark imagery #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks #quill anon !

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staywrites · 4 years ago

Text

tw // woojin , sexual assault , anxiety. please read with caution.

around 1 pm gmt+8, i noticed tweets from a cryptic account about a certain person from one of the big 3 companies saying that they had been sexually assaulted in a bar a few months ago. the account stated that the person was a former member of a group, and that they repeatedly used the group to assert power and authority to the victim.

people speculated it to be kim woojin from the victim's clues. people said that the victim confirmed it to be him, but i wasn't able to see a tweet about it.

after their story, their account was either taken down or deactivated, i'm not sure which. and since then, a few accounts had spoken up about their encounters with unnamed male kpop idols and what they had done. even more accounts were made to add confusion to the whole situation and drag other kpop idols in it.

a few hours later, woojin himself tweeted a statementㅡa short statement. he denied the victim's accusations by saying he didn't know the victim nor has he ever been to [the] bar, which the victim did not disclose. he continues by mentioning his upcoming debut as a soloist.

now, there were a lot of disappointed fans about this, but this only fluctuated more when he posted that statement, which for everyone, confirmed that it was him. apart from shamelessly promoting his career, he downright confirmed it was him by disclosing locations the victim did not mention. this started the circus of tweets clowning him, and concerned stays waiting for some response from the boys.

i watched a clip from chan's live implying about woojin's departure from the team, and he said that [he] was selfish and betrayed everyone, especially chan.

chan, who always took the hit for the boys, who posted a long paragraph about woojin's departure when the latter didn't even say a thing, who had to constantly look over the boys when they had to redo everything during cle:levanter era, who watched hyunjin break down infront of so many stays and witness jisung's mental health (and everyone else) deteriorate so much that he had to get professional help, handpicked woojin to be in his little team because he put trust in him to help the group grow and create fond memories with.

and when woojin left, all chan could say as per his idol duties was that he was betrayed. and because of this big information, all of us now know it's more than betrayal.

no sane agency would ever pull a departure announcement days before their comeback. but JYPE did that, swallowing the probable millions worth of budget for their comeback and redoing everything just to remove woojin from all of the upcoming content. they even went as to re-record some of their tracks, which was weird to me way before all of this happened. now we know why.

JYPE and stray kids want nothing to do with him, so everyone should stop putting the phrase 'former stray kids member' next to his name when he already left the company almost a year ago. this was a mistake on media journalists, because as they fish for readers with the phrase, they also come with the uncertainty of whether people will correlate this with the ot8 or not. with their steady rise of popularity and upcoming comeback, i hope everyone outside the stay community considers the fact that woojin isn't a part of the team anymore. this new content is something all eight of stray kids worked hard on to show everyone who they really are, without any trace of woojin whatsoever.

i've only been in this fandom for eighty days (i've been keeping count), so i wasn't really into woojin. but like everyone else, i was disgusted and ashamed. how could someone like him be with the most loving boys we've come to known and be comfortable with? to anyone who is overwhelmed, feeling betrayed, and hurt about this situation, please know that you never knew about this until today and it's okay to say you used to be a fan of him. the main point is that you realized he isn't what you think he is, and it's okay if you'll take your time before accepting it. take things at your own pace. you can always log out and reflect on this situation offline, and we'll always be here to welcome you back. it's okay if you decide to leave the fandom, we respect your decisions.

and to the victim, i hope they sleep better knowing they've told their story and i hope they know there's an entire (logical) community of kpop fans supporting them and wanting justice. that it doesn't matter who they are and what they do; sexual assault should not and should never be taken lightly especially with well-known people in the entertainment industry.

i love you all, and stay safe. support stray kids's comeback on september 14!

#stray kids #woojin #staythoughts

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lostgreekgod · 3 years ago

Text

delusion: part 2

"a/n: hello, hello! cant say i didnt sniffle a little writing this one.

words: 6539 (the word limit kind of faded away as i got emotional)

pairing: loki x f!reader

warnings: angst, but ends with fluff. but a lot of angst. mentions of death, blood, and fingers. and dead bodies. and hypnotism?

another a/n: thanks to @theaudacitytowrite for this little adventure. cant say I wont miss it.

tagging all those who requested for a part 2: @karushinekomiya @midnights-ramblings @savoryloki

read part 1 here!

37 minutes. That’s how long it took for y/n to have her soul crushed. Not crushed, ripped, and trampled all over repeatedly, until her very essence was terminated, until she was nothing but a bag of bones, muscles, and blood. She fell back into her bed as she watched Loki leave her. Forever. She didn’t matter to the god. Of course she didn’t. why did she ever believe that she would be of any importance to him? A mighty god like Loki, a literal prince! What was some simple Midgardian to a being of such alleviated status? y/n felt something trail down her cheek. She was crying. 4 years, 3 months, and 27 days of not one tear- not even when her parents left her to rot- and it took only 37 minutes for her ex-lover to have her eyes release such a foreign substance. She wasn’t even sobbing, just one lonesome tear trailed past her cheekbone, just one tear that contained all her anger, sadness, and pain. She wished she could cry harder. She wished she could cry her eyes dry, and just spontaneously combust while she was at it.

“Okay since the door is open, I’m assuming you guys aren’t doing anything that will scar me for life-“

Nat. Of all those times she could walk into y/n’s room, she picked today. She faltered as she took in the image of y/n sprawled on the bed, staring at the ceiling and into nothingness.

“y/n?” she whispered as she reached for her friend. Her blood froze as she took in y/n’s face. Pale, like a corpse. y/n still hadn’t acknowledged Natasha’s presence. Gently shaking y/n’s shoulder, Natasha called her name again. Nothing. Was she even breathing? Natasha began to panic. Her only friend- aside from Wanda- What ever happened? y/n was fine when she left training a while ago-

“Nat,” came y/n’s voice, a gentle, hoarse whisper.

Rushing to her side, Nat brushed her hair away from her face. “y/n, what happened?”

Finally, y/n met Natasha’s eyes. The pain was so evident in them, just bared out for the whole world to see. Vulnerable, weak. Natasha had never seen y/n like this. The y/n she knew was strong, so strong.

“y/n,” she breathed, “talk to me.”

“He left me.” Her voice cracked, almost as if it wanted to match with the likeliness of her cracked heart.

“What? Right now?”

y/n nodded, not trusting her voice. If only she could find a release for that awful swell in her throat.

“Hours before a mission?” Natasha could have slapped herself for blurting out something so insensitive. Here laid her friend, literally looking like death, and she was worried about a mission. Sure, they had 4 lives to save, but what good was a near-dead agent in a rescue operation?

Natasha had initially come over to y/n’s room for last-minute mission prep. Yes, they had about 2 hours left for the mission, but she could never be too careful with anything.

“Would you like me to leave you alone?”

y/n simply continued to stare at the ceiling. Natasha wished she could see what she was thinking. Although she looked like death, Natasha couldn’t help but notice how she had cried just one tear. Anyone could tell that she needed a while to collect herself. Natasha decided to step out, probably approach Fury and issue a last-minute change of plan. She could take Clint and Peter. Not the best replacement, but she could have Peter go in and look for the agents, while she placed Clint at a farther position, as backup for Peter.

“Stay.” y/n breathed out when Natasha began to retract her arms away.

Perhaps Natasha could stay and provide her friend some support, just for a few minutes. She felt awful about how she couldn’t help more, but this was the most she could do at the moment. ‘Missions first, personal problems next. What are you a hero for?’ as Fury would say. Natasha thought of Loki. How she wished she could knee him in the groin and then cause him a slow painful death.

“Coming up with a plan for murder?” y/n asked, somewhat with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Looking up at y/n’s face, Natasha relished the little smile on her face. Heartbroken as y/n was, she was still alive.

“You know me so well.” She snickered.

“Don’t bother Nat. He doesn’t deserve it.” Lies. Although y/n really wished to let Nat murder Loki, her love for him outdid that need.

“y/n, as much as I would like to stay with you like this, I’m afraid I have work to do. I need to find replacements so the mission can still-“

y/n’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? Replacements?”

“Yes, you obviously cannot go on a mission in this state. I mean, have you seen yourself?”

No. No, no, no. The mission was the only distraction she was counting on. If she stayed behind, she would probably end up doing something she never once thought she would.

“I want to come, Nat. I’m fully capable of fighting today.”

“y/n, think about this. Loki- “ Nat paused, concern refilling her when y/n flinched at his name. Rephrasing, she tried again, “he’s going to be there too, and we cannot risk any mistakes.”

“Nat. you know me. You know how I am. Would I let a little squabble in my personal life come in the way of my work?” y/n was probably lying again, she didn’t know how she could manage being in close proximity with the same person who managed to suck out her very soul, but it was so much better than the alternative. If y/n was deemed unfit for the mission, she would have to spend a day doing nothing, and that was not something she was looking forward to.

“Let me partake in the mission, Nat. I promise ill be okay. I just needed a few moments to collect myself.” y/n added a little smile at the end, hoping she could have Natasha fooled into believing that she was fine.

Gauging her response, Natasha studied y/n’s face for a moment. It was obvious she was lying, but Natasha knew better. She had to let y/n do this. Nodding, she relented.

“Promise you’ll be okay?” she asked, squeezing y/n’s shoulder once before standing up.

“Promise.”

He still had 2 hours to burn. 2 hours before he set out on a mission with the person he loved, aka the person whose heart he broke. Once her best friend, Natasha Romanoff found out, she’d probably come straight up to his room to kill him. He would have laughed if he was capable of feeling anything at the moment. He laid in his bed. The mattress was cold, hard, empty. Not even an hour since he left y/n for good, and he was already missing her. Her soft body flush against his chest, as he inhaled her chocolaty scent. The little sighs she subconsciously let out when he wrapped his arms around her. The little twitch in her lips when he whispered something in her ear. It was too late before he realized what he was doing. His heart stopped as his mind screamed at him, you can’t think of her! You don’t deserve to think about her, let alone lay next to her!

Inhaling deeply, he curled up into a ball. How he wished he was someone else. If it weren’t for his past, he and y/n could have lived one of the sweetest lives. Sure, she was a Midgardian, he would still figure out a way to keep her with him forever. If only.

“Top of the morning to you, brother!” Thor’s voice bellowed. Loki groaned internally. It seems, while he was in the middle of his self-deterioration, he forgot to lock his room door.

“What’s gotten you so sullen?” Would he simply leave if Loki didn’t respond?

“Brother. Hello.” Thor said again, shaking Loki’s shoulders. Clearly, he was unaware of Loki’s mental state- but then again, Loki was always like this with everyone. Except his y/n. His y/n? Nope, not anymore. Just y/n.

“Thor.” Loki said, finally acknowledging his cheery brother’s presence.

“Ah, finally. It seems to be getting harder every day to obtain a response from you, brother, hence I must ask- is everything alright?”

Loki wanted to laugh. Hysterically. So, he did. Slow laughter built up in his throat, and before he knew it, his laughter boomed all the way from his stomach. Cold, dry laughter that would run chills up one’s bones. When was the last time he had laughed like this? Out of sorrow? Out of spite for himself?

“Whoa. Am I dreaming? I have never seen you laugh like this, brother. I am now very concerned for you.” Came Thor’s voice, causing Loki’s laughter to die down. Laughter is supposed to make people feel better, right? But the feeling in Loki’s stomach would prove that otherwise. I do not deserve to laugh.

“To what do I owe your presence, dear brother?” Loki was surprised his voice sounded so collected. Almost as if he didn’t just take someone’s heart and stomp all over it. His heart churned as he remembered what he had done. He just wanted to lay in bed and sob.

“It is mission day, brother! We must prepare!” Thor bellowed; his previous question forgotten.

“As it is. Leave. I shall arrive at the quinjet in due time.” Loki hoped Thor didn’t hear how his voice wavered in the slightest.

“Brother- “

“Leave, Thor,” he breathed, his voice cracking at the slightest, “I beg of you.” Maybe Thor didn’t sense the wavering earlier, but he definitely caught this. Besides, Loki never begged.

“What did you do, Loki?” Thor asked gently. It now dawned on him why Loki crawled into a ball. Since they were children, Thor had seen how he would do that every time something had hurt his heart.

Loki scoffed at how Thor questioned his deeds. Of course, Thor would suspect him of some wrongdoing. It was never ‘What happened, Loki?’. Just the accusatory, ‘What did you do now?’. Although, this time, it was his fault. All his fault. Monster.

“y/n,” he said.

“y/n? What happened to y/n?” Loki could feel the sudden anger surge in him. Big, ugly anger- filled with resentment for himself. Why won’t Thor leave him alone? Why can’t he just leave, leave Loki to rot in his room?

“I broke her heart, Thor. I took it, trampled all over it, and left her to scavenge for the shattered bits. Is that enough? Or would you like me to tell you more? Leave, Thor. Leave me alone. I will report at the quinjet for the mission soon.”

Thor realized Loki’s predicament. He knew a situation like this might arise sooner or later, but he hadn’t expected it to occur at such an intensity. His little brother had only begun to experience the joys of love, of living, he had just begun to heal, and his demons were eating at him already.

Sighing, Thor began. “Loki. Look at me.” When Loki didn’t respond, Thor forced him to face him and meet his eyes.

“I may not have a clue about how you deal with most things, but I do know what you are feeling right now, brother. I have known you for many millennia, and no matter how clever and secretive you are, I can always tell how you feel. You feel undeserving of y/n, am I correct?”

Loki inhaled sharply at Thor’s accurate judgment. Was he so predictable?

Almost as if reading his mind, Thor continued, “You aren’t predictable, dear brother. In fact, you are far from it. But it wouldn’t take a fool to see how you feel about y/n. We all see how you look at her, Loki. Like you love her. Like you would do anything for her. But what you don’t realize is that we also see how she looks at you. She loves you, regardless of your scars, your past; she loves you for your heart- she loves you for you, Loki. Anyone who’s incapable of seeing that is simply an ignorant idiot.” Loki’s eyes widened at Thor’s revelation. y/n loved him regardless of what he had done in New York. She loved him, not because he was a god or a prince, but because he was him. Because he was Loki. How could he have been so blind? He wanted to smack himself for being so naïve & insecure. He should have just talked about it to y/n, like she always suggested. ‘Talk to me if you have a problem, Loki. It’s what all couples do. They support each other,’ she had said to him once.

“It isn’t too late. It never is. You can always fix it. Do you understand?” Thor said, bringing Loki back from his thoughts.

Loki needed to sit down and think, and Thor shaking him to elicit a response to his monologue wasn’t really helping.

“Are you done, brother?” Loki asked, his voice and face still monotonous. He needed time with himself. Besides, he never responded to Thor in any other manner. To break that ritual now was to sin.

Thor, however, couldn’t see past Loki’s monotony. Sighing, he said, “I hope you think of my words, Loki. You need y/n, as much as she needs you. Come to terms with that for yourself.”

“Based on what we can tell, they’re going to ask us for the hard drive before they give us Agents Samson, Waller, Bryson, and Stevens- so we’re going to have to stay on our toes,” Hill began, Natasha and y/n listening on intently. Loki wasn’t anywhere to be found, but then he hardly attended the briefings. He simply read case files and had a pretty good idea of what was to be done. “Natasha will be our front. She will deliver the drive, while y/n and Loki go in search of the agents. We need to ensure that we find our men before the decryption of the drive.” She said, looking back at her tablet.

Just then, Loki walked in, looking as pristine and collected as ever. As if he wasn’t running on sleep from a day ago, as if he didn’t have a broken heart weighing him down. y/n’s anger surged. It was infuriating how he wasn’t affected even to the littlest. She put on her mask of indifference perfectly. Last night didn’t happen. Loki was simply her coworker, and she was going to have this mission take place perfectly.

“Um, Agent Hill? Is it possible for me to take Agent Romanoff’s position?” y/n’s voice rang before Hill could give further instructions. Loki noticed how y/n looked calm and ready. Ready, to pounce like the lioness she was. She didn’t acknowledge his presence. Usually, when they met up at briefings, she’d give him the tiniest of smiles, but the sparkle in her eyes would speak more than what they could converse in a lifetime. That one moment always made his morning. He wouldn’t deny the sting he felt in his chest when she asked Agent Hill to change her position.

Agent Hill looked into her tablet and frowned. “I’m sorry Agent y/l/n, but this is the best way we can proceed while ensuring minimal casualties. Loki’s seidr, accompanied by your stealth will help in a faster rescue. Not many people are capable of resisting Natasha’s sweet-talking, so it is best for her to be on the receiving end of the exchange.” she said, winking at Natasha; grinning as Nat returned the wink. “And guys, a quick note. We don’t know these people; we don’t know how they work. If in case shit goes down, call for backup. We’ll be in ASAP. You have a 60-minute time bridge to be in and out. If you’re not out by then, we’re coming in. Understood?”

Quickly sheathing her disappointment, y/n nodded in agreement, “Affirmative, ma��am.” It seemed as if she had to face him after all. But no matter, she reminded herself. I am a hero. An Avenger. My people before myself.

“Alright guys, let's move in. I will enter through the main, you both through the back doors. Wait for my signal, and as soon as you receive it, go. Do not waste your time. I assume you have memorized the floor plans?” Natasha asked, putting a gun into her thigh holster. y/n nodded as Loki simply stared.

“Go on then, good luck.”

Loki used his magic to put some sort of cloaking around himself and y/n as they walked quietly towards the backdoors of the abandoned silo. The rival organization had set up a temporary location there for the exchange, and their current invisibility enabled them to walk comfortably.

Loki took a deep breath. It was unwise to have a conversation, nevertheless an intimate one during a stealth mission, but he had to talk to her. Let her know that he was sorry.

“y/n, I have to talk to you about earlier,” he began, looking for a reaction in her.

He waited for a moment. Several moments.

“y/n.” he tried again.

Nothing. Not even a flicker of emotion in her.

“I’m sor- “

“Don’t. Don’t for one second, think you can talk to me. Not after what you did.” She sneered at him, fresh fury blazing in her eyes like Greek fire. Loki flinched at her sudden reaction. He never flinched. “You do not get to talk to me after I bared myself open to you like I did, only to have you scoff at me, and deem me worthless.”

y/n was now angry with herself. It enraged her how Loki was able to elicit such a response from her with 3 mere sentences. She had to stay more collected. Ignorance, she decided. The best choice of weapons.

Loki decided to attempt again later. He could not give up on his love. He could still hear Thor telling him about how he could fix it. Loki used his seidr to pick the lock on the back door. So far, they couldn’t see anyone. No snipers, no guards, nothing. He ignored the chills that ran up his back.

y/n had her gun at the ready. It didn’t matter if they were invisible, there could be heat sensors. She wasn’t going to let the little kerfuffle from a few minutes ago faze her. Her skin rose in goosebumps as she sensed the eerie silence. Something was wrong.

On Natasha’s command, they moved in, both walking on guard in perfect formation. y/n in front of Loki, with her gun out, while Loki stayed behind her with his daggers in his hands. They walked around each other in perfect sync as they scanned their surroundings. They moved past the pitch-dark corridors as y/n tried to look for signs of an ambush. So far, they had to have encountered at least a few guards. The plan was to silently take them out as they continued to look for the kidnapped agents. y/n looked back at Loki and turned away before he could make eye contact with her. His heart pumped steadily, his blood filling with adrenaline in response to the suspicious silence. They approached another door, and based on the floor plans, they had to go through the room ahead. The only problem was that it was a very big, and possibly empty one. Some sort of a torture chamber, y/n figured, from the lack of furniture and other basic things. She cracked the door open. A single chair. That’s all she found in the center of the room. Was that blood? y/n’s muscles froze as she noticed the table with numerous surgical tools- no, torture devices. A little knife-like object laid in a steel tray, covered in blood. And fingers. So many fingers. y/n gasped at the image in front of her. The junior agents had been tortured in the very room they were in. She looked around for active cameras. 4 in each corner of the room. She was thankful for the invisibility curtain Loki’s magic was able to provide. Suddenly, Loki was tapping at her shoulder, trying to get her attention. He frantically pointed at a bundle in the corner of the room. White sheets. Drenched in blood. She moved towards it slowly. Please don’t be what I think it is. Please.

Uncovering the flimsy cotton, her eyes widened. “The Agents.” She breathed, meeting Loki’s eyes. He looked as mortified as she did. All four of them were dead. Tortured, left to bleed out slowly. It’s a trap. y/n realized, her blood curdling up. Only then did she notice the tripwire around the sheets. We’ve been tricked.

“y/n!” came Nat’s voice in her earpiece. “y/n- it’s a t-t-trap! Crack. G-get out of t-there! N-n-now Crack. R-r-rendezvous at-t b-back- Crack.” not even the static in Nat’s transmission could have left them confused about what they had gotten into.

In a blink, there were lights, everywhere. Red lights, lasers, sirens, noise resonating all over. They had been spotted.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here,” Came a deep, cold voice from behind them. A man in a white coat, followed by a woman who seemed like an assistant- who was followed by at least a dozen men who looked like SWAT agents, except they had much more brandished weapons. The 2 doors in the room shut with a bang, leaving Loki and y/n trapped; with 4 dead agents, and the many people who probably wanted them dead- but not before having their fun.

“Agent y/n, and Loki, the God of Mischief.” He sneered at them.

y/n pointed her gun at him while Loki drew out his daggers and flipped them. That would have had y/n swooning on a good day, but not today.

“The one and only,” Loki stated. “Now let us through, or it will be the end of our short-timed pleasantries.” he sneered, adrenaline flooding in his veins, causing his green irises to turn almost completely black.

“Now, now. There’s no reason to be so hostile,” the man said, his mouth twisting into some crooked sort of smile. “After all, I am sure you do not have the capability to fight past all of my soldiers.”

He was right. Loki’s seidr could probably take out a few, and y/n’s ammunition a few more, but not before they were electrocuted or whatever those hi-tech weapons were capable of. She needed to contact backup. And fast.

“Let us out, unworthy scum. We’ve given you the intel anyway.”

“Behave, Agent y/n. Do you really think I’m stupid enough to fall for a corrupted drive?”

Loki wanted to smash his teeth in. How dare he talk to his beloved like that?

“And you are?” y/n asked the man, changing the subject and trying to stall him. The drive plan had failed, which meant that Natasha could be in trouble. Besides, they needed to come up with a new plan to get out without any more trouble. Not even 10 minutes in, and they were already cornered.

“Fred. I am also a doctor.” The grey-haired man said. y/n would have laughed if she wasn’t already upset and running on almost no sleep.

“.. your name is Fred?” she asked, silently trying to reach for her walkie.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No, but I was expecting something more ... traditional. Something that would suit that malice in your eyes a little better,” She stalled. “Something more Russian. You look very Russian.”

All Loki could do was stare at y/n with a prideful smile when he realized what she was trying to do. His little lioness, so daring and clever.

Grinning like a madman, Fred turned to his assistant. “I like this one. Although, what’s all this about being Russian? I just don’t get it.”

y/n would have responded if not for the dart in her neck.

“Hey!” she felt the poison running through her veins in no time. Her sight faltered, her own voice sounding distorted.

“No!” Rang Loki’s panicked voice. His heart fought against his ribcage. What had he done? If only he hadn’t gestured at the bundle, if only he told y/n it was better to leave the moment they spotted it. They knew the junior agents were dead the moment they saw it, what was the need for him to have y/n uncover the sheets?

“Don’t worry, Mr. Laufeyson. It is only a sedative. Your girlfriend will be fine.” The doctor chortled.

It was now y/n’s turn to freak out. “How did ... how did you…” she mumbled; her eyes widening at the colors that brimmed in her vision. Her heart calmed to a surprising rate, a sloppy smile on her lips as she sank onto the floor.

“Please, Agent y/n. Like I said, I’m not stupid. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the way you look at each other?”

Thor’s voice rang in Loki’s ear. ‘It wouldn’t take a fool to see how you feel about y/n, Loki.’ He would have smiled if it weren’t for their current state.

“Mmm,” y/n hummed. Understandable, she wanted to say. “Un- un- under the sea.” She managed, with a goofy smile and a giggle bubbling from her chest.

Chuckling at y/n, the doctor said, “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Laufeyson.”

That was all Loki heard before everything went black.

He gasped loudly as he woke up. Where was he? He scanned his surroundings and realized he was in a lab-like settlement. No doors, just 2 bullet-proof glass windows behind which a number of doctors and agents stood. Along with Fred. His heart sped up as he took in y/n. Strapped onto a bed with numerous wires attached to her head. She was still unconscious from the sedative. He pulled at his arms only to notice he was shacked to the walls.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Mr. Laufeyson!” Loki heard a cheery voice through the speakers. “Shall we begin?” Fred asked, pausing for a few moments as Loki realized he was waiting for a response.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his mind numb. How was he going to get out? Where was Agent Romanoff?

“Ah, so glad you asked. This nice lady here,” he gestured, “is Doctor May. She specializes in hypnotism.”

What did they need a hypnotist for? If they were planning to hypnotize Loki, they were in for a disappointment because that really wouldn’t work on him.

Looking at Loki’s expression, the doctor smiled. “Don’t worry, it's not for you! It's for our dear y/n here! Doctor May here has so skillfully come up with a serum that we can test on y/n. We’re going to turn her against you, watch an epic battle- to the death; and if she survives, hooray! We’ll have her rejuvenate and train before using her to infiltrate SHIELD!” he cooed. His tone did not go with the threats he was spewing. "Oh, I also forgot to mention, we're giving her superstrength, just for the sake of it. see what happens."

Loki’s blood turned to ice. “What if she doesn’t survive?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“Oh well, if she doesn’t, we’ll harvest your powers and whatnot! But not to mention we will be very disappointed in her.” The doctor said, frowning playfully.

Loki’s chest seemed to cramp up onto itself. He tried to pick the locks on his cuffs with his seidr.

“Did you really think we’d let you have seidr while in captivity? Gosh, SHIELD. Keep thinking I’m stupid. See what that does for you.” Fred mumbled, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“No! No. Fred. You do not want to do this,” His silver tongue was the only thing he could rely on now. He couldn’t let them hurt his y/n. Ignoring the sweat running down the side of his head, he donned a sweet smile and crooned, “let her go. I am far more powerful than she is. If you release her, I promise to submit to you, causing you no difficulty. My seidr and my other strengths. All yours. I will give you any intel you need.” He promised, his nerves slightly betraying him. That’s it. Take the offer, Fred. Let y/n go. It’s my fault she’s here anyway.

“Hmm, let me think,” Fred said, placing his index on his chin. Uh oh. “How about no?” he snapped, quickly letting that carefree smile adorn his face again. Loki’s smile faltered. “Unfortunately, your proclamation isn’t as fun as my idea, Mr. Laufeyson.” No seidr, no backup. He was going to have to fight the one he loved.

“May, commence operation Omega!” Fred yelled, bouncing on his toes. “I’m so excited!” he yelled, his arms flailing around. Loki couldn’t help but notice how the man’s appearance did not suit his personality even by a percent. Creepy.

He watched as y/n’s body started shaking. She was seizing. His stomach dropped as the horror registered in his mind. The wires suddenly detached from her head with a sickening pop as she opened her eyes. Her e/c irises now glowed bright blue. Like electricity in her fibers. Loki’s chest clenched at y/n’s foreign expression. How long had it been since they got in? Surely Agent Hill must have realized something was wrong by now?

He flinched as the shackles around his hands clicked open. He was incapable of fighting y/n, let alone killing her. He couldn’t stand the idea of landing his fist on her.

“Ah, hello? Subject 7? Can you hear me?” Fred’s annoying voice crooned.

“Yes,” y/n said, her face devoid of any expression. Almost as if she was a robot. Loki’s skin rose up in goosebumps as he heard her cold emotionless voice. This was not his y/n.

“Good,” the doctor beamed. “Destroy.” That’s it. One simple command for y/n to turn to Loki and snarl at him.

“y/n,” Loki whispered. No, no, no. He felt tears prickling in his eyes. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than lay a hand on her.

“You’re pretty. But I’m going to kill you.” y/n smiled, her mouth letting out a little giggle. That wasn’t her giggle. It was cold, malevolent.

“Doctor May, what was that? It was cute, but I don’t remember asking for that?” Fred asked, frowning at the lady. Stuttering, she said, “I-I believe the serum hasn’t taken complete effect, sir. Part of Subject 7’s personality i-is still accessible to her.”

“Aw,” Fred groaned. “Do I have to kill you, Doc?” he asked the lady, whose eyes were now wide as saucers.

“N-no, sir. I assure you it won’t be a p-problem. I will have it fixed b-before administering the next dose.”

“Okay!” Fred smiled again.

Loki overheard their little conversation. Could he still reach for his y/n, which was buried underneath the cold exterior, courtesy of the serum?

“y/n,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. She didn’t respond, but simply charged at him with a growl.

Loki dodged her, putting a safe distance between the two of them before trying again as his mind screeched at him. All your fault! Why did you let y/n uncover the sheets? You knew it was dangerous, you knew they were dead!

“y/n, it's me,” Loki said softly, trying to get her to look at him. He took a step towards her when he saw that she wasn’t going to lunge at him.

“y/n … I know you’re in there.”

Loki thought he saw a flicker in her eyes.

“Doc! What’s going on?” Fred exclaimed; his face glued to the glass.

Loki decided to get closer. “My love,” the words sounded foreign to his ears, no doubt, but it had never felt so right.

“Come back to me,” He whispered, reaching for her; tears obscuring his vision. “Please.”

y/n lunged at him; a perfect roundhouse directed towards his face. But Loki’s reflexes had always been faster. She circled him, like a predator assessing its prey.

Fred banged at the glass. “Subject 7! We do not have all day!” He yelled, and now y/n was rushing towards Loki. She swung her fist at his jaw as Loki dodged her, only to receive another punch on his throat. Coughing and sputtering, he glanced at y/n, his eyes speaking words he never had a chance to say. Rubbing his neck, he said in the gentlest voice he could muster, “Please, my love. You do not have to do this,” he paused, gauging y/n’s reaction. He noticed how her movements faltered every time he spoke in that gentle voice. “It’s okay, y/n,” he whispered, his eyes holding hers as he reached to cup her face. Everything slowed down when clarity sank into Loki, chilling his bones like ice on a hot plate. He now knew what he had to do.

“It’s me, look at me, my love,” he breathed, his eyes searching hers. Flicker. His y/n was fighting underneath the shadow that had taken over her body.

“I love you,” He whispered to her. 3 words, just 3 words to let her know how sorry he was. To let her know he never meant any of it. to let her know, that it was all his fault.

“I love you, my darling, I always have; I’m so sorry this ever- “ Loki’s voice muffles down as the next event unfolds.

She’s suddenly kissing him, she’s kissing him like she’s never kissed before- raw and hungry- and for one moment, for one moment y/n's emerged from the shadow of the serum- to tell him, tell him that it was okay. That she understood. One kiss to let him know that she’s forgiven him, one kiss to let him know that she loved him too. Loki’s eyes widened as her warm lips held onto his like her life depended on it- except this time, it did- and he was kissing her back before he knew it. he wrapped his arm around her, his other arm knotting in her hair to support the force of the kiss- and he’s crying, he's crying as her fingers tangle in his hair, he’s crying like he’s never cried before- the tight wraps around his past wounds ripping open, he’s crying like he’s never going to experience this feeling ebbing from the depths of his heart ever again--

And he’s suddenly on the floor with y/n’s hands around his throat, her eyes electric blue again, a menacing smile playing on her lips.

“Yes! Yes!” Came Fred’s voice. “Finish him, Subject 7!”

y/n stared at Loki, her hands lowly tightening around his throat. He could only stare back at her, his tears running silently as he placed his hands around y/n’s wrists.

“Do it, y/n. Do it. I did not deserve you anyway,” he said as he choked on a sob, “but I just want you to know- I have always, always loved you; and I wish last night never happened. I wish for you to never, ever experience the pain you felt last night, I wish for you to be treated like the queen you are- “ he paused, meeting her eyes, a thousand emotions swimming in his mind; making it impossible for him to speak the numerous confessions he was attempting to make.

“I love you, y/n, and I regret not believing you when you said you did too.” He choked out before shutting his eyes and accepting his fate. He embraced death like an old friend, waiting for it to swoop in and steal his soul. He waited for that cold feeling of release, of being free. He would die for her instead.

“I love you too. I never stopped,” He heard a sweet voice whisper. He opened his eyes to y/n’s e/c ones. She had fought the serum. Her lips quivered as tears brimmed in her eyes, freely falling down her cheeks, as Loki’s hands reached for her cheeks. “I love you,” she said, and everything blows apart as the building explodes.

// a week later//

y/n opened her eyes to 2 smiling faces, groaning at the throb in her head. She noticed the other Avengers next to her, all smiling, grateful that she was okay. She was in a hospital bed.

“Welcome back!” Natasha and Steve yelled, causing y/n to shut her ears.

“Guys! Stop yelling!” y/n manages to say before furrowing her eyebrows and shutting her eyes.

“How long was I out?” she asked, her eyes still shut.

“a week,” Sam replied from her left.

“Whoa.” She whispered, trying to recollect the events that had unfolded.

She froze as the images came rushing back to her. She tried to kill Loki. Then she kissed him. ‘I love you,’ he had said, and the building had exploded on their fragile reconciliation.

“Loki!” she gasped, sitting back up, her eyes flailing around to look for him. Was he dead? Please don’t let him be dead.

“y/n! Calm down! You have 3 cracked ribs, not to mention the messed-up head, thanks to serum Omega. We need to make sure it still isn’t in your bloodstream,” Nat says, holding her down.

“Is Loki okay?” she asks Natasha, her heart in her throat.

“I'll bring him to you,” the red-haired agent smiles at her, before turning to the door. “Stay put,” she calls behind her.

“What happened to Fred?”

“Who?” Steve asked quizzically.

“That weird doctor.”

“Oh, probably died from the explosion. Our people are there as we speak, y/n, we’ll find out soon. Feel better, we’ll tell you the rest later.” he said with a warm smile.

How did they manage to get out? Sure, she was knocked out after the explosion, but she did witness the intensity. It would have been impossible to extract them from underneath the rubble- unless--

“y/n?” Loki’s tentative voice came from behind the infirmary’s door a few moments later. She looked at him, searching for any injuries he might have sustained. Loki ran up to her, grabbing her face, “You’re okay.” He said, kissing her gently. He snickered as y/n’s hand crawled up into his hair, pressing his lips into hers harder.

“So are you,” she smiled, looking at him with a look of pure adoration.

“What happened?” she asked Natasha, her fingers looping into Loki’s as he sat next to her.

“I escaped, noticed that you both hadn’t made it to the rendezvous point only to encounter more agents, fought my way out, called for backup, and the rest is history. The question is, what happened to you? We got only Loki’s version. Gotta hear yours,” she says, all in one breath.

“Perhaps give us a while before that?” Loki asks her, Natasha gasping slightly at the little smile on his face.

“Careful Loki, smile any wider and people might think y/n’s making you go soft,” she joked and turned around to leave, gesturing at the team to follow.

“Hey you,” y/n whispered, her index tracing Loki’s jaw. He leaned down to envelop her in yet another kiss, this one sweeter than the best Asgardian mead, filled with promises of tomorrow. He smiled into the kiss when her fingers knotted in his hair.

“I love you," Loki whispered, thanking whoever that he could say it to her again.

"Forever?” y/n asked, her voice still hazy from the kiss.

“Always.”

112 notes · View notes

marshmallow-phd · 3 years ago

Text

Gravity

Genre: Angst, Unrequited Love

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

A/N: This was basically just a therapy write.

What is worth? It is neither tangible nor seeable. It doesn’t have a body or a shell. Yet, the endless chase to catch it, to hold it captive, is a never ending disease that eats away at the brain and tears apart the heart. It’s only descriptor is feeling. A judgement. Something either is or isn’t. When it's an object in question, the call for worth is passive, innocent. It’s wanted or it's not. The deterioration comes into play when the worth is applied to a person.

Kim Junmyeon was worth the world.

With a smile that could chase away a storm and a heart too good and pure for the human populace, he was truly worth more than the world. He was worth more than you deserved.

Not only was his face kind, but it was handsome. Beautiful, even. Candid photos were museum worthy masterpieces. There was a gentleness, a softness to his eyes and cheeks that contradicted the sharpness of his jaw and the strength of his body. His laugh was infectious and his mind as vast and deep as the ocean. The sum of his whole was worth so much.

But you were not worthy of such a person. You weren’t as stunning as a sunset over the mountains or as extraordinary as a new discovery. You were simply… you. Staring from afar, admiring but never touching.

You wished you could be worthy. You wished you could be special enough - good enough to be with him. Pretty enough would be something decent to settle for. But you were invisible. A person on the sidelines. Out of the spotlight. You were an admirer - not one to be admired.

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked, your attention torn away from the spot where Junmyeon was standing, laughing and chatting with a few of his seniors. Kyungsoo, who sat to your left at the small table in the entertainment building’s cafe, didn’t even look up from the script he was currently reviewing. He’d only been given it the day before and was still considering if he wanted the part that was being offered to him.

Your gaze dropped to the opened yet untouched notebook lying in front of you on the somewhat sticky surface. Someone must have spilled their syprup-y coffee and didn’t do the best job at cleaning it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without moving his head, Kyungsoo looked at you over the rim of his glasses. Even though you were sure you were nothing more than a blur to his eyes at the moment, he could always see right through you. “If you keep staring at him like that, you’re going to give yourself away.”

The ultimate nightmare. The humiliation of being found out. The sweet but awkward rejection that you knew would follow. With his laugh still ringing in your ears, you forced yourself to tune Junmyeon out.

Pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, Kyungsoo straightened and closed the script. “We can go somewhere else, if that would help.”

You wanted to argue no. That you weren’t a coward. That you weren’t going to run and hide simply because you looked at him like he was the night sky while you were stuck on the ground. You used to have better control of yourself. You used to be able to hide it better. But lately, it had only gotten worse.

And you were a coward.

“Yeah. Maybe one of the practice rooms is empty.”

“There’s usually one.”

After gathering up your things, you followed Kyungsoo out of the cafe, stealing a final glance. Junmyeon didn’t so much as twitch in your direction. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he hadn’t even realized that you were there in the cafe for the past half hour.

Kyungsoo settled into one corner of the worn navy blue couch while you squeezed into the other. Not speaking a word, he went back to reading the script. That was a nicety of your friendship. Comfortable silence was more than readily available when needed. He didn’t push or give unasked for advice. He was an ear to listen and a presence to take in when you didn’t want to be alone.

You stared down at the notebook in your lap where your next story ideas were supposed to be filling the pages. But nothing was coming out. Not even the vague pictures you’d had earlier this morning. The only things being called to the paper were the sentences held in the invisible tears you refused to shed. Words of wishes and frustrations swirled around inside the tiny droplets, every letter as heavy as lead. Your cruel mind kept echoing at you the conversation that had constricted the air in your lungs.

Two days ago, you’d accidentally overheard a drama staff worker jokingly say that Junmyeon and his current co-star seemed awfully close, more than merely friends. Stomach lurching, you ran to the nearest bathroom. Nothing came out but almost fifteen minutes of deliberate breathing had gone by before you emerged again. Kyungsoo was quick to dismiss the comment after barely three words from you. The effect, however, still lingered.

Despite the history of your intrusive thoughts, you wanted to believe that you could be good enough. That you were worthy of being beside someone like Junmyeon. His co-costar was stunning, even in real life. Someone who didn’t need photoshop to draw out gasps of awe and astonishment. Someone you most certainly couldn’t compete with in any race.

You weren’t asking for much. Just to be able to hold his hand, your fingers interlaced between his own. The fantasy you allowed yourself to indulge in at times wasn’t a grand gesture or a modern fairytale. You wanted simplicity. The smaller moments that could mean so much. Mundane, to some eyes.

Warm sun rays leaked through the closed blinds over the living room windows. A clock on the wall ticked away the meaningless minutes. Sometimes soft music hummed in the background, sometimes there was nothing but silence. Junmyeon would lay across the length of the couch with you wrapped around his side. His fingers would absentmindedly caress your shoulder or arm. In his other hand was a book, held open by his thumb and pinky. Your own hand drifted through his hair while he read aloud.

The two of you had dozens of endless conversations about books. About the ones you loved and the ones you hated. About deeper meanings and the reflections of life. His love of literature - from the celebrated classics to the obscure unknown - had been what initially drew you in. Everything else was what made you stay.

A muscle in your hand cramped. The peaceful scene faded from your eyes. The page was now filled with barely legible, ink-smeared words. You’d written the entire scenario out, along with your heart, without even realizing it.

In a panic, you ripped the paper from its spiral hold, crumpled it up, and tossed it to the trash can across the room. It missed.

“I doubt whatever you wrote was that bad,” Kyungsoo murmured. He read the final few lines of the script and closed it.

“It wasn’t,” you admitted bitterly. “But I shouldn’t have written it.” You described the scene to him while your eyes stayed trained on the loose thread twirling between your fingers.

He sighed. “You’re never going to tell him, are you?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’re just stopping yourself.”

You scoffed. “Why would I deliberately set myself up like that? Break me the rest of the way?”

Kyungsoo stared at you, long and hard, his expression blank to those who couldn’t read the tell-tale signs that his thoughts were in overdrive. “You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

You sniffed, though no tears were yet forcing their way to the surface. “Most days.”

“Then walk away.”

“I can’t.” Your voice broke - just like your heart. The world blurred when you shook your head. “I can’t… simplify it. But-- It’s like I was this stupid lump of rock drifting aimlessly through space, content with my life. Then suddenly, I came across this brilliant star that shined so brightly and… we collided. And now I’m stuck in his orbit. But he just keeps on spinning while my whole world had changed completely. He’s… my gravity. I don’t know anything else anymore.”

“Maybe it’s time to find your own orbit.”

Afraid it might crack again, your voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

The door creaked open and your heart leapt. Junmyeon stuck his head inside. Had he overheard everything?

“There you are! I turned away for a second and suddenly you two weren’t in the cafe anymore.”

He’d… He’d seen you? In the cafe?

“It was too loud,” Kyungsoo lied, covering up for you like he always did.

“It’s always too loud for you,” Junmyeon teased. Then his face morphed into that leader-esque expression. “We need to head to rehearsal. You’re welcome to join us,” he nodded to you.

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly in response. “I have a writer’s meeting.” No, you didn’t, but space felt like the right choice at the moment. You tried not to focus on the lack of disappointment coming from the direction of the door.

“Maybe next time.” Junmyeon slapped the side of the door. “Let’s go, Soo.”

You were actually the first one on your feet, muttering goodbyes to both of them and then walking down the hall perhaps a little too fast.

You didn’t allow your mind to think the whole way home. Every action was done in automatic mode. Only the minimal amount of awareness was used. But when the apartment door clicked behind you, when the near darkness wrapped you up, when the silence crept in and the empty couch mocked you… you broke.

Knees buckling from under you, the cold hard floor came closer and you didn’t leave that spot just inside the room as the tears and sobs crashed out in waves.

This was what you hated the most. The breakdowns that came with no excuse. They were built up by your own mind, by your intrusive thoughts. You tortured yourself with what you could never have. The attacks were random and it was only recently that you had learned to hold them in long enough until you were safe within your own walls. One time, you hadn’t made it. Kyungsoo had been there to pat your shoulder.

Kyungsoo. He was right.

That clarity was coming through as the tears dried and your breathing evened out again. You needed space. You needed to separate yourself from what wasn’t good for you and not see him. Not even have the temptation to.

This was going to hurt like hell.

The office somehow looked smaller with the bare walls. Since the day you moved in, you tried to liven it up, give it character, make it reflect the interests you loved. How were you supposed to write if this place felt like a stifling corporate desert, dry of any creativity?

Not that you ever actually wrote in this twelve by eight space. This place had been reserved for meetings and other usually boring necessities. You didn’t know the next time a budget meeting or an email check would be conducted here. You could be back in a few months and move back in as if you never left. Or someone else could take over. Only time would tell.

The box that currently had your attention was nearly full. You’d have to come back for the rest. There wasn’t much left, anyway. You took another look around to see if there was anything else you could do at the moment. The monitors were black, the tower underneath - so much smaller than the one you’d had as a kid - was powered off, and the chair that was aligned just so to your favored adjustments was pushed into the gray desk. Saying goodbye to this place really did hurt.

But you needed to do this.

And yet, you felt like you were drowning, being dragged deeper into the black water. Your lungs were screaming for relief.

“You’re really leaving?”

Your shoulders stiffened. At first, you didn’t look up at him. You weren’t sure what to say to him. Being here… it was the last place you expected him to be today. Kyungsoo would have told him, but you wouldn’t have waited around for him to appear.

“Hi, Junmyeon.” You folded up the top of the box, overlapping the pieces so it would stay shut in transport.

“I thought you liked it here?”

“I love it,” you confessed. “But I- I need to go home for a little while.”

“Are you homesick?”

“Something like that.” Definitely some version of sick.

He nodded. “Will you be gone long?” His eyes drifted over the holes in the walls leftover from the frames that used to hang in front of them.

“I don’t know.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This was…. You should go. Pushing your fingers under the box, you started to lift it to take it home.

“Do you have to go?”

The question stalled you. Confused, the box went back down on the desk. “Why are you here, Junmyeon?”

He shrugged, though it didn’t shake off the stiffness in his shoulders. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his arms all the way to his wrists covered up by the sleeves of his shirt. Lately he had been rolling them up. You wondered what had changed today. “You’re our friend.”

Friend.

Friend. Friend. Friend.

The word rang over and over like a declaration of war. Our friend.

The smart thing to do would have been to nod, say goodbye, and leave. But - instead - you opened your mouth.

“I will always be your friend.”

That didn't make him smile like you would have thought. “So, then why do you have to leave?”

You rubbed your eyebrow, fighting within yourself. You lost.

“Have you ever had a friend so head over heels for someone that won’t even look at them twice? But they don’t care? Because as long as the person they’re looking at is happy, then they’re happy. Even if your friend is completely miserable in the process. Because they no longer care about their own self. They just keep looking at the other person, doing anything that entails that they’re still happy.” You swallowed thickly to try and keep your voice steady. By your sides, your hands were trembling at this roundabout confession. “And you want to shake them. You want to tell them to get out. Because as long as they stick around, they won’t look at one else. No one else exists. Well, this is me. Getting out.”

The frown on Junmyeon’s face deepened as he let your words sink in. “Who is it? Will you tell me?”

No. Because this was enough of an admittance. Because it was time to find your own sense of gravity.

So, without a word, you picked up the box and left the office.

Waiting for you when you came back was the scene you had written in the practice room that day, flattened out but still wrinkled as it laid on the desk.

#exo #kim junmyeon x reader #kim junmyeon #kim joonmyeon #suho #suho x reader #exo oneshot #exo drabble #exo angst #exo unrequited love #kpop

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Note

"I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met." memory loss angst? 👉👈🥺

anon... fam, this turned into an emotional rollercoaster and totally stole my braincell.

3.8k words. angst with a happy ending.

tw: memory loss, minor anxiety, repressed memories, idiots to lovers, whump, angst with a happy ending, angst with a fluffy ending

---

It’s been three hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since the frigid breeze whipped Geralt’s angry words at him, shattering his fragile, stupid heart to pieces. Every syllable rings through Jaskier’s head over and over, slamming into him from all directions and crippling him with a bone-deep pain far worse than anything he’s ever felt before. The ache ebbs and flows, lancing through him with every step. Not even Geralt’s first frustrated blow to his abdomen had been this terrible.

Geralt… That’s the problem, isn’t it? He hadn’t been smart enough to get out of the gorgeous Witcher’s long, silvery hair soon enough. He’d overstayed his welcome, fallen in love in the meantime, and is now very out of sorts (and also alone in unfamiliar territory). The bard laughs but it’s a hollow sound. Jaskier has reached the edge of hysteria, his intelligent blue eyes now vacant and unseeing. Even as he stumbles through the underbrush, all he can picture is the snarl on Geralt’s face as the Witcher yells at Destiny to take Jaskier off his hands.

Jaskier’s own hands are covered in sap and splinters from pushing tree branches away from his face as he traverses the darkening forest. His hair is full of debris and his clothes are torn and dirty; Geralt has all of his emergency supplies, still. Jaskier is pretty sure that his lute is still strapped over his shoulder but he realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that he doesn’t actually care.

He doesn’t have the capacity anymore.

He can’t care… caring hurts too much.

If only Destiny had taken him off Geralt’s hands. Maybe then it would be okay. Maybe then, if Geralt was well and truly free of him and his irritating presence, the Witcher could be happy. He and Yennefer will surely come back around, they always seem to, and Ciri will be joining them soon enough it seems.

There’s no need - no room - for a humble bard anymore.

Only five hours, thirty minutes, and twelve seconds after Geralt’s outburst at the top of the mountain, Jaskier’s delicate human body succumbs to the stress of the day.

He drops to the forest floor without a sound, grateful for the darkness.

---

Yennefer finds the bard in a heap a few miles away from the previous night’s elevated campsite. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead she yanks it away almost immediately; he’s burning up, and his skin is clammy and sticky with sweat. The feathery bangs he flicks about and preens so much are stuck to his forehead and temples. He’s on the verge of shaking apart and Yennefer tosses her head imperiously, swearing.

“Damnit, Geralt. You and your incredibly foolish need to be alone all the time so you can brood and self-flagellate. Me, an ageless sorceress from one of the greatest magic schools on the Continent? I can handle a thorough tongue lashing. Fuck, I’m older than you and I’ve seen far worse but this… oh, you great lummox. You absolute bastard…” Yennefer mutters to herself as she assesses the bard’s deteriorating state of health, ranting to an invisible Geralt all the while. “You’re absolutely going to be hearing from me about this, Wolf.”

--- Three days, one hour, and fifteen minutes after Geralt dismissed him forever, Jaskier wakes up with a loud gasp and a violent shudder. He blinks slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light streaming in through a window. Whatever he’s lying on is comfortable and the sheets smell fresh and bright, like lilac and freesia. A hint of gooseberry lies beneath it all, delicate and sweet. He glances around the space and finds it to be relatively bare; a guest room, perhaps. Maybe he’s a servant at some noble house?

Jaskier only really knows that his name is Jaskier and that he plays music. He’s also rather talented with floral arrangements.

Shortly after he’s finished purveying his (borrowed?) chamber, the very image of grace, beauty, and terror enters the room. The woman, whose coppery skin and enchanting violet eyes practically glow in the midafternoon sun, smiles down at him in a way that toes the line between Motherly and Shark-like.

“How are you feeling, Jaskier?”

“I’m alright. And you?”

“Just fine. Geralt really did a number on us, huh?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. He has the feeling that something isn’t right; she shouldn’t be looking at him so kindly.

Her expression changes from friendly to horrified to confused in an instant, as soon as Jaskier manages to ask: “Who’s Geralt? And, pardon me, but I feel as if something is rather amiss. Who are you, my Lady?”

Whoever the gorgeous and terrifying woman is, she grimaces briefly. Then, as if by magic, the comforting smile returns. “I’m Yennefer, of course. I saved your life a few years ago, remember?”

Jaskier wracks his brain but cannot call the occasion to mind. “Unfortunately no, I don’t remember your no doubt heroic deed. Although I suppose that means I’m in your debt, doesn’t it? Do I work for you? Is that why I’m here?”

The woman blinks a few times, slowly, and then nods. “You’re my gardener and personal musician.”

Jaskier brightens, happy to have found himself in a safe environment.

“But you’ve had a nasty illness and your mind is clearly fatigued. Rest another day or two and then we can see about getting you back into the fresh air.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Jaskier nods.

“Yen is fine.”

“Thank you, Yen. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” he grins.

---

Yennefer turns away to hide her pained expression. You’d probably still be with your beloved Witcher.

She makes her way to the kitchen to fix Jaskier something to eat. He must be hungry after spending three days in a deep, healing sleep. She hadn’t been expecting the amnesia, though; it was an unexpected but not unsurprising turn of events. Heartbreak had done stranger things than a little bit of fever-induced memory loss. When she’d delved briefly into his mind she hadn’t seen any sign of Geralt. His face was absent from the bard’s consciousness; she would have needed to dig to unearth those memories. Whatever the Witcher had done was grievous, especially if Jaskier’s mind compensated with something as dramatic as burying Geralt completely to save itself from further harm.

No matter, she decides, the bard can stay here as long as he likes. It’s the least I can do for all the upset Geralt and I have caused him. Where is that idiot Witcher, anyway?

The sorceress quickly clears her agenda and her mind before returning to her guest room with a large tray of food, a bottle of Toussainti red under her arm. “Jaskier, darling, let’s get your convalescence started in style!”

---

2 months later

---

Jaskier watches a strange man ride up the long path to Yennefer’s manor, the hilts of his twin swords glinting in the sun where they’re slung over his shoulder. He has long white hair and the most devastating jawline the bard/gardener (or ‘bardener’ as he says to irritate his darling employer) has ever laid eyes on. He’s clad all in black, from his plain linen shirt to his tight leather trousers; Jaskier thinks he’d also look rather lovely in dark blue or perhaps forest green.

In front of him, wrapped securely against his chest by one strong arm, sits a little girl with ashen hair and frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. Jaskier’s mind fills with ballads, some familiar and some oddly dreamlike, their lyrics half-obscured and hazy. Ciri, he thinks for no reason. Her name is Ciri. And she is a Princess.

The brunette scurries from the garden alongside the house to the kitchen, searching for the familiar cloud of Yennefer’s strong perfume. “My Lady?”

“Darling?” the sorceress replies, coming around the corner. She raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows and her lips quirk up into a smirk. “Did you sprint all the way from the west lawn?”

“There’s a- strange man- on the- drive!” he huffs. “White hair- horse!”

“Oh,” her eyes go wide with surprise. Then, in a split second, they narrow to slits. “Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, know him?” Jaskier asks, twiddling his fingers. “He’s rather handsome, Yen. Is he a former lover?”

“Unfortunately,” she growls. “I can’t believe it’s taken him two fucking months to get here. He’d better have a damned good excuse.”

By now Jaskier can breathe normally again and he straightens up, shaking his long, shaggy hair from his eyes. “He had a child with him. She looked scared, Yen.”

“Cirilla!”

Yennefer dashes for the front door and Jaskier follows instinctually. They’re always together and he can’t bear to let her confront this man alone. He’s spent every waking moment with Yen since he awoke that first day and she has grown to be his dearest friend; he’ll protect her even unto death. “Yenna, what’s wrong? Who is he!?”

“Geralt of Rivia,” she snarls. The name seems familiar; maybe from a ballad or story? Perhaps Yen has mentioned him before?

“What about Geralt of Rivia?” a low, rumbling bass asks from the front hallway. Jaskier and Yennefer arrive in the doorway together and the man, Geralt apparently, takes a shaky step back. He recoils a bit, as if he’s been slapped, and Yennefer’s smile grows cruel. His voice, still incredibly low but now with a slight tremor to it, stutters out; “Wha- Yen, what is he- Jaskier? I only came to ask for help with Ciri, I didn’t know- I didn’t-”

Geralt’s stammered speech tapers off into silence and Yennefer’s brow furrows a second time. When the sorceress sets eyes on the child, who cannot be more than twelve years old, her expression softens again. Jaskier watches the most imposing woman in the world kneel, taking one small, pale hand in both of her own. “My name is Yennever of Vengerberg, former Sorceress of Aretuza. I am honored to meet you, Princess Cirilla. Geralt has come seeking protection, no doubt, and it is easily granted. I will do everything I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer. And, uhm… Ciri’s fine,” the girl replies. Her voice is high and reedy, shot through with anxiety. She’s so young, Jaskier frowns. And yet she seems to have weathered an incredible storm.

“Ciri,” the bard bows from the doorway, low and dramatic. He sweeps his arm out to the side and bends his knees as awkwardly as possible, “I am Jaskier, private troubadour and gardener extraordinaire, under the employ of the magnanimous and dangerous Lady Yennefer, here. It is my greatest honor to make your very mighty and very royal acquaintance.”

“You’re silly, Master Jaskier,” the child giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hands. Geralt’s eyes grow wide and dart between Jaskier and the girl. Yennefer makes meaningful eye contact before nodding toward the door. Jaskier looks down at Ciri again when she asks: “Do you grow lots of flowers in Lady Yennefer’s garden, or just herbs and things for magic?”

“I grow lots of things all over the property,” the brunette man steps forward and offers Ciri his hand, gesturing towards the front door with the other. “Would you like to come and take a look? I know all the scientific names, you can even quiz me if you like.”

“I know some,” she smiles shyly, accepting the offered hand. “May I go take a look at the gardens, Geralt?”

“Go ahead,” the Witcher nods dumbly. “Jaskier will take good care of you.”

“That I will. Now, let’s take a look at the flowers and let these silly adults have a chat,” Jaskier grins. He winks at Yennefer and disappears out the door, exiled Princess in tow.

The two lively companions have toured through all the medicinal herbs and are halfway through Yennefer’s large collection of rose variations when the two other members of the party approach. Geralt looks sheepish, his eyes downcast. Yennefer looks triumphant; she is radiant in her victory as always.

Geralt steps forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jaskier, I’ve come to apologize for what happened when we parted.”

“Excuse me?” the bard chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, exactly.”

“When I yelled at you after the dragon hunt. It was only two months ago, Jaskier, surely you remember?”

Jaskier blushes, glancing anxiously between Geralt and his friend, whose violet eyes are stormy with emotion, “I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met."

Geralt gasps sharply and takes a step back, as he did in the entryway. Jaskier winces, seemingly on instinct, and shies away from the larger man. “You don’t remember me?”

“No…” Jaskier sighs. “I really don't. Should I?”

“You don’t… You don’t even remember Toss a Coin?”

“Oh, that ditty from town?” Jaskier perks up. “I know that song! It always gets stuck in my head.”

“You… You wrote that song,” Geralt’s face crumples. “About our first adventure together outside of Posada. With the elves and the sylvan...”

“I’ve never been to Posada,” Jaskier laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “They hate bards. They prefer troupes of traveling play-actors. Posada is far too serious for my tastes.”

Geralt seems to be in agony. His chest rises and falls unevenly, as if he’s on the verge of tears but unable to shed them. Can Witchers cry?

How does he know that Geralt is a Witcher? Is it the two swords, the scars, or the strange eyes? How does he know that those are common Witcher traits?

His stomach lurches and he turns away from the group in case he needs to be sick. The ground spins and shivers in little ripples around him, unstable and impermanent beneath his feet. Yennefer is calling his name from somewhere far away and a pair of warm, strong arms are looped around his waist. Still, he can’t seem to breathe. Or focus.

There’s something missing.

He starts to hum, trying to remember the words of that damned song.

The rest of the world fades in and out around him, finally disappearing altogether.

---

He’s gorgeous.

Jaskier shoves another roll into his pocket. His eyes are focused on the man in the corner. He has long, snow-white hair and his shoulders are hunched forward protectively, as if he can hold the world out by sitting by himself. He’s glaring the table into submission, one fist clenched around his tankard.

I want to write him a thousand ballads. I want to know what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning, before he brushes it out again. I want to know if he snores. I want… he stops himself.

He makes his way across the room with eyes only for the stranger. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

The man looks away and Jaskier notices that his irises are gold. “I’m here to drink alone.”

Gods, his fucking voice… Velvet and gravel all at once. Melitele, does Jaskier want. “Good, yeah. Good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you.”

The man, the Witcher, Jaskier realizes, rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he wheedles, sitting down across from the gorgeous stranger. “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”

The man’s face stays stoic, expressionless. “They don’t exist.”

He realizes shortly thereafter that this man is not just any Witcher but the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He could try to disengage himself from such a daunting character; he could easily make some kind of excuse and disappear back to the troubadour’s path, heading towards civilization, but it’s already too late. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt’s side ever again; he wants to write all those ballads he was thinking about earlier, when he glanced across the room.

Jaskier has fallen head over heels in love. ---

Geralt cradles Jaskier against his chest and presses his nose deep into those chestnut brown waves. “Wake up, Jaskier. Come back to me, bard, it’s been too long.”

“Don’t you usually go all winter without seeing him?” Yennefer asks from the doorway.

“It’s hell,” he replies easily. There’s no point in hiding his feelings from her. “I miss him every minute of every day.”

“Verbose this evening,” she remarks, taking a seat by the fire. “He’s dreaming, you know. He’s remembering you.”

“He’d forgotten?”

“He’d repressed it all,” she shrugs. “When I found him that day, feverish and nearly dead on the side of that godsforsaken mountain, he was barely coherent enough to open his eyes. He just kept asking for you, Geralt. Over and over he called for you, reaching his arms up, weak as they were. Gods, it was pitiful to watch.”

Geralt swallows.

“I thought you were going to come back sooner. I was surprised when his memories didn’t resurface after two or three weeks. Short-term memory loss after a fever isn’t uncommon but repressing twenty years worth of feelings and experiences-” she whistles lowly “-it was impressive and tragic, all at once.”

“He forgot me?”

“Entirely.”

Geralt glances down, shame-faced. He adjusts Jaskier in his arms, holding him close and pillowing the bard’s head against his shoulder. “I deserve it, Yen.”

“He’s remembering now, though. He’ll probably be a little less than pleased to see you when he wakes up, but he knows who you are.”

“When will he wake?”

“Can’t say,” she shrugs again. “After I brought him back from the mountain it took three days for him to wake up. The first day was magically induced but after that it was just him… exhausted and heartbroken to the point of self-induced amnesia.”

“Fuck, Yen,” Geralt groaned, pressing his forehead into the soft warmth of Jaskier’s cheek. “How can I make it up to him?”

“Stay.”

“Hmm?”

“When he wakes up and he’s angry and upset, stay. Don’t stomp off or blow up or freak out,” she instructs. “If he asks you to leave, go, but otherwise… prove yourself, Geralt of Rivia. You wanted to be a knight once, didn’t you? Now’s your chance to play Prince Charming. Get down on your lovely knees and beg and apologize.”

“Hmm. How’s Ciri?”

“Fed, bathed, and put to bed. I’ll take care of her for as long as it takes you two morons to make nice again. Good luck, Geralt, I’m sure he’ll forgive you too easily for my tastes.”

She stands from her seat and leaves just as efficiently as she entered, carefully closing the door behind her. Geralt lays Jaskier back on the bed and takes a seat beside him on the mattress, kneeling just within touching distance, should Jaskier reach out for reassurance in his sleep. Geralt closes his eyes and slips easily into meditation.

The Witcher is pulled from his trance a few hours later when Jaskier makes a startled sound and tries to sit up. Geralt opens his eyes and splays one warm, broad hand against Jaskier’s chest, forcing him back against the goose down pillows. “Stay still, Jaskier. You’re feverish and weak.”

“I’m still dreaming,” the bard grumbles, reaching to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s adorable and Geralt grins widely, warmth spilling into his chest from some newly discovered fount of happiness. “You’re being too nice to me, Witcher.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier, for everything.”

“What’s everything, Geralt?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away when I was angry and confused instead of communicating with you. I’m sorry for hurting you with my brash words and foolish actions; you have always deserved so much better and I’m so afraid that I can never give that to you. I take the wrong step at every turn, it seems, and yet you stay by my side. I didn’t want to risk hurting you the way I’ve already hurt Yen and Ciri, by tying us together against your will.”

“Darling Geralt,” the bard sighs. The Witcher scoots slightly closer and Jaskier lays a gentle hand atop his thigh. “It has always been my greatest pleasure to travel the Path with you and write of our adventures. I appreciate your concern for my agency and wellbeing, dear heart, but I am quite happy spending my entire human life in your presence.”

“Hmm,” the Witcher frowns. “You’re going to die someday.”

“And? So are you. So shall Yennefer, maybe.”

“Not likely,” Geralt jokes. Jaskier grins and the sight of it is so heartwarming that the Witcher wishes he could break down into tears. At least then Jaskier could see just how deeply his feelings ran. “I’m sorry, Jaskier, for blaming you for things that I brought upon myself. I love you dearly, and I hope that someday you can choose to travel with me again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hope that you’ll-”

“No, the other bit.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh. Yes, I-” Geralt clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eyes, gold and blue locked together, “I love you very much, Jaskier.”

“Fuck.”

“May I kiss you, Jaskier?”

“Yes,” the bard breathes.

And then Geralt is lifting him up into his lap, one hand cradling Jaskier’s skull so so fucking carefully. Geralt’s other arm supports his waist, holding him steady. Their lips come together softly, carefully, and Jaskier’s soul spirals up to the ceiling with joy, his body abandoned. He is merely a vessel for the happiness that comes with kissing his Witcher. When they pull apart, both men are grinning like fools. “Oh, dear heart.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Never stop calling me that.”

“I swear I won’t, my love.”

From downstairs, Geralt hears Yennefer mutter, “Fucking finally.”

It takes twenty-two years, seven months, and one day, but Geralt and Jaskier manage to figure things out.

#bounceacoinoffyouranons #geraskier #amnesia #amensiac jaskier #memory loss #rare species fix it #the witcher netflix #the witcher ficlet #geraskier fluff #angst with a happy ending #fluff and angst #whump with a happy ending #jaskier whump #yennefer #yen and jaskier are bitchy theatre bffs #and you can't stop me #anon you really got me fucked up

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maybege · 3 years ago

Text

Safe And Warm - Part 1

Summary: Din convinces Paz to find the long lost Princess and bring her to her family in Coruscant. What Paz did not expect was her very beautiful companion and the feelings she would wake in him. (Anastasia AU)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.1k | Rating: T

Warnings: one (1) tense moment of threatened violence, otherwise Disney-level fluff, also Mandalorians do not wear helmets in this AU

FINALLY! When I start writing this in November of last year I certainly did not expect it to take this long until I would publish it but the writing gods had other things in mind. This is a loose Anastasia AU with a bit of a mixture of like 1920’s fashion/aesthetics set in the Star Wars Universe. It was a lot of fun to write and – in my mind – is like a 90-minute fun Disney movie with romance sprinkled in.

Because there will be two parts of The One posted next week, the second (and final) part of this story will be posted on July 23. Always, feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Paz was sure that Din had lost his mind.

To be fair, he had thought that more than once but this time he was convinced that it had finally happened. Din Djarin had lost his stars forsaken mind.

But, as always, Din did not seem to be deteriorated by his friend’s disapproval.

“Valoria has been destroyed a long time ago now,” Paz said, “And everyone on it has been destroyed with it.”

“Yes, except maybe what if it hasn’t?”

Paz scoffed, “I very much doubt that.”

His eyes wandered around the cantina they were sitting in. The bar was packed by what seemed to be the crews of the trade ships, gambling and laughing at their tables, and over on the other side of the glittering gown of the singer caught his eye. Stars, he just wanted one calm evening …

“Paz,” Din grabbed him by the upper arm, “We all know the remaining Valars are Coruscant royalty so to speak and them setting out a price for the lost princess? That must mean she is out there somewhere. And wewill be the ones to bring her home.”

Paz did not say anything. He wanted nothing more than another drink and maybe watch a good fighting match. Stars, maybe even participatein a good fighting match.

But Din did not give up. He never did.

“Think of the money, Paz,” he implored, “That would be more than enough to build a new classroom in the covert and get you one of those fancy new blasters the Armourer has been eyeing – and that would only be with half your share.”

Paz hesitated.

They did need a new classroom. Or at least some improvements on the current one. Last week, some bricks had tumbled down and it had been pure luck that none of the foundlings had been there.

He would have never been able to forgive himself if something had happened to one of his students.

He sighed in defeat, his shoulders dropping and he leant back in his chair. “How do you plan on finding – what’s her name again Thama-something?”

“Thalassa,” Din corrected him with a smug grin on his face. He had probably realized by now that he had captured Paz’s interest. Smug bastard.

“And you’ll be glad to know that I have found her already.”

“Found her?” Paz was stunned, “I am impressed, vod. You never seemed like the planning type.”

Din ignored his jab and set out the map, the galaxy lighting up between them. “A reliable source told me we can find her here,” he pointed to the very end of the map, symbolizing the edge of the Outer Rim, “All we need to do is get her from here to here,” he drew an imaginary line all the way to Coruscant, “Without having anything happen to her.”

“Seems easy enough,” Paz commented, brows furrowing, “So why do you need me for it?”

“There might or might not be a price on her head … from the Imps,” Din admitted.

He knew there had to be a problem somewhere.

“Do you have any idea how many things can go wrong? This is asking for trouble Din,” Paz cursed, clearly unhappy with that tidbit of information, “No credits in the whole wide galaxy would make this worth it. I have no desire to have a run-in with the Imps any time soon.”

“Vod, please,” Din said, “I – kriff, I need the money to get stuff for the kid,” Paz's eyes fell to the little pod in which the green child – his honorary nephew – was sleeping, “I need him safe, alright? And I need your help, brother, please.”

“Alright,” Paz murmured, nodding, “But I already know this will go wrong.”

Din’s ‘hot tip’ led them to a planet on the Outer Rim. The very edge of it, to be exact.

They had gotten a ride on a friend’s ship much to Paz’s amusement. Din begrudgingly calling Boba Fett of all people for help all the way from Tatooine was the highlight of his week – month, even.

The Razor Crest was hopelessly broken down and Paz was sure that Din would use significant amounts of his share to get the ship and his home back on track.

They had left Grogu with the covert under the watchful eye of the Armourer, knowing that the mission would be too dangerous and too risky to take him along. That was the moment Paz knew that Din was serious about all of this. For his vod to leave his kid somewhere that was not with him – that was a big step.

A step which both of them seemed to regret as they landed on the planet in question. It was muddy and green and brownish, a wholly unappealing colour palette. The sky was dark or … well, not dark. But it seemed to be a permanent twilight no matter what time it was and with the small drizzle, the rain seemed to paint the whole world a constant grey.

The only homes that littered the streets – or rather trampled paths – were small homes, only distinguishable from the grey horizon by the small fires that lit up their windows.

Paz had never been so sure that there would never be a princess here. But maybe that was exactly what made this the perfect hiding spot.

And so, he hoisted his bag higher on his bag as they trudged through village after village in search for whatever sign Din deemed to be worthy to stop for. As the rain lessened, the sky lightened up a little but they were still wet to the bones and Paz hated it.

After hours of walking, Din finally stopped in front of a small hut.

Children were playing in the space between the houses and the few adults that seemed to be working outside eyed the newcomers suspiciously. Paz’s hand felt the blaster on his hip, a strange feeling overcoming him at being watched.

“I don’t like this, vod,” he murmured, “I really don’t.”

Din hummed in agreement before knocking on the door.

A few moments passed and then an elderly man opened. Both his eyes and his hair were grey, he seemed … worn. Tired and worn. But when he spotted them, and his eyes flew immediately to the weapons on their hips, he tensed. And so did Paz.

Surely this was not the best first impression they could make.

Then again, he was impatient to get away from here.

“I know why you are here,” the man said, his eyes lighting up in excitement as he motioned for them to come inside.

Paz was confused by this but he did not complain. The man did not seem to have any weapons on him and, as surprising as it was, he seemed genuine.

The house they were led into was simple. The downstairs consisted of a single room, serving as both the kitchen and the living room, and a set of stairs led to what Paz assumed to be the bedrooms.

A hearty smell wafted through the air and he spotted a pot hanging over the fire. His stomach growled.

“You are here to bring her home, aren’t you?” the man asked excitedly and both he and Din tilted their heads questioningly, making no secret of the fact that they were surprised by his warm welcome.

“We have been waiting for years but you see,” the man explained, gesturing to the outside, “there is no way to send reliable messages out there without them being able to be transferred.”

A woman came through a backdoor, clearly his spouse. She wore an apron and a suspicious look on her face as she spotted the two intruders. But even then, she did not acknowledge them. Instead, she walked over to the steaming pot of soup and set it on the table in the middle of the room.

Paz heard Din’s stomach grumbling and grinned.

“They are here to bring Thalassa home, darling,” the man explained, looking almost relieved and Paz furrowed his brows. He did not put it past the stranger to genuinely be happy for the girl to get back to her family but somehow, he had the feeling that the man’s happiness had a different reason.

“Where can we find her?” Din asked gruffly, shifting his weight on the other foot, “We want to get going as soon as possible.”

“Why should I tell you where she is?” the woman spat, “I cared for her like she was my own, what makes you think I would so easily give her away?”

“Because she deserves to be reunited with her family,” Din stated drily, “And her family wants to see her. They have waited a long time for this to happen.”

Paz held onto himself to not roll his eyes. Din could always be so dramatic if he wanted to and he hoped that it would work. He just wanted to get on with it.

The spouses looked at each other for a long moment and Paz could tell that they were having a conversation without words.

“Alright,” the woman finally relented, before adding, “But I do have one condition.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to take my niece with you. She – she has been stuck on this planet for far longer than she needed to. She is a good girl, she deserves a chance in the big worlds.”

Paz could feel how tense Din was. His first instinct was to disagree. They would have trouble smuggling one princess across the galaxy but a princess and another random stranger? Besides, who knew how this niece would hinder them on their quest to keep the princess safe?

No, that really was a ridiculous idea.

But Din was better at lying than he was and so he agreed with a reluctant nod. Nothing would speak against just taking the princess with them once they found her, right?

“Where is she then?”

“Oh, they’re just outside, working in the gardens,” the older woman says, wiping her hands on her apron, “You can tell them dinner is ready. You’re invited to stay as well, you won’t be able to walk back to your ship in that darkness.”

Both of them nodded and Paz was happy to set down his bag at the door that led outside. He kept his blaster on his hip though and he knew that Din had done the same. His thoughts were rushing with how quickly they could get Thalassa out of here and how long they would have before any of the Imps had an inkling of where she was.

But as he stepped down the stairs all thoughts left his head because … because …

There you were.

Like the lady had said, you were working in the gardens. You were kneeling on the muddy ground, your hands full of wet earth as you cleaned the plants of any weeds. Your companion was next to you, sitting on a small chair and talking to you. She must have said something funny because you threw your head back and laughed.

You – stars, you were beautiful.

How could people not see a princess when they saw you?

Noticing the newcomers, you raised your head and your eyes grew wide as you saw the two big men walk determinedly towards you. You hurried to stand up, wiping your hands clean on an apron. “How can we help you?” you asked carefully.

Paz did not slow his steps. He felt how flushed he was, even the tips of his ears felt hot as he walked towards you. His chest was oddly warm and tight as he looked at you, your eyes big and your mouth opening with another question.

“Your Majesty,” he murmured, lifting your hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. You had wiped them clean on the fabric of your skirt and he felt how soft it was and he heard you gasp and oh stars how would he ever be able to forget this very moment.

The other woman seemed to be more excited rather than surprised and he heard her talking to Din in a high-pitched voice. But what did he care about that woman’s niece when you were there right in front of him?

“Oh I – I’m not,” you said, clearly embarrassed. You held your hand to your chest, the one he had kissed and Paz frowned. Shame filled him when he realised that he had made you feel uncomfortable but then he was also confused by your words. What did you mean?

“If anyone’s a Majesty, that would be me,”the woman behind him said, “It’s been time I would think.”

“We’re here to get you back to your family, Your Majesty,” Din said, throwing an amused look to Paz who was still standing in front of you. He looked from the other woman to you and back again. She – she was the princess? And you were the niece?

“We will start our journey to Coruscant tomorrow,” Din announced, “We got a ticket on a freighter ship booked. It will be a long and dangerous journey, princess, but you will see your family again soon.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Thalassa replied, wholly unimpressed, “It’s been years, I almost thought I’d never leave this forsaken place. Oh, is that dinner I smell?”

The princess walked off without another word, leaving the basket and little chair behind as well as Din and Paz looking at each other and realizing that keeping her safe might not be the issue – enduring her might cost them their last nerves.

Paz watched as you kneeled down again quickly putting some of the vegetables in the basket.

With the basket in your hands, you stood up again, looking at Paz for a long while. He felt how this warm feeling came back and nervously shifted on his feet. He could not figure out what it was about you but he – he wanted more. Wanted you more.

You took a deep breath, seemingly gathering your courage for something, and he resisted the urge to take your hand.

“When, uh, when you said you would go to Coruscant did you mean … me too?” you asked quietly and the small hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Din opening his mouth. He knew that look on his face, knew that Din would reject your request just like they had planned when your aunt had first voiced that condition. Din would tell you that they would leave only with the princess in tow. And he was right, probably. Fewer people meant less danger.

But you did not look at Din.

You looked at him with a small smile on your lips as if you did not allow yourself to be hopeful yet but as if you wanted to be. Wanted to be hopeful. Wanted to be excited. Wanted to be on this journey.

He wanted to change that.

“Yes,” he said, already feeling Din’s eyes on him. But when you looked at him like that there was no way he could say no, “Yes, you will come with us too, if you’d like, of course.”

To no one’s surprise (and Paz’s excitement), you wanted to come along.

Already the preparations for the trip were eating at their nerves. Thalassa was more than annoyed that she was only allowed to take one bag with her. But Din was adamant and surprisingly patient with the demanding princess and soon she had reduced her luggage to only the essential items. It was not like she would need her muddy dresses in the high society of Coruscant.

Paz felt like he could not wait until the trip was over.

The next morning, they were able to borrow speeders from the family which would take them to the capital of the mud planet. From there, they would take one of the big cruiser ships to Naboo.

It was the easiest method to fall under the radar – by blending in with the large crowds that flocked to the core worlds. Paz had worn his best suit for that exact purpose.

The only downside was that the Imps were slowly becoming aware of that loophole and more and more of them infiltrated the standard ways of travelling.

Already in the terminal did Paz spot a few suspicious-looking people. They were most likely bounty hunters but he was not too worried. The ship they were boarding was enormous and so was the number of passengers. The odds of them crossing paths were very slim and so he and Din decided to not change their plans at the last minute.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be intimidated if not scared. Din has assigned you the space on Paz’s speeder and with your arms wrapped around his middle, you had driven hours on end until you had reached the spaceport. He had liked the proximity, the way you had pressed your cheek against his back and how your arms had sometimes tightened around him.

He could very well get used to it.

Now, even as you were in the terminal, ready to board, you stuck to his side. It flustered and pleased him to have you so close that your arm was brushing against his constantly. But he was also relieved to have you this close because everywhere he looked, strangers were walking towards the gates and he did not want to lose you in this chaos.

And so, he made it a point to make himself seem bigger, pushing out his chest and straightening his posture to make sure that none of the other passengers would stray too close.

You sent him a grateful smile.

A few rows before you, he could hear Thalassa’s high-pitched voice complaining about one thing or another and soon he recognized Din’s dark hair in the masses. He wondered if his brother in arms was even listing to her. Her voice was shrill and she had not stopped talking for one moment since leaving the house this morning so Paz found it hard to imagine that Din could just tune it out but he hoped for his sake that he could.

He did not want to imagine the next few days on the ship.

“Do you have the tickets?” you asked quietly beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Paz nodded and rummaged in the inside pocket of his jacket. He brought out two data chips, handing you one.

“Stick close,” he advised you, “It can get a little chaotic, getting through the gates.”

With big eyes, you nodded. He watched how you took a deep breath and then you were separated from him, being pushed towards another gate. There was a sea of people trying to get through the electronic controls and Paz did not like this suffocating feeling that came over him

He pushed the chip in and the gate opened with a beep before he was swept up again by the masses making their way into the hull of the ship. But there was something – or rather someone – missing.

Paz turned around, trying to spot you. When he did not see you, he grew panicked. He could care less what happened to Thalassa but you– he wanted to make sure you were safe.

Hoping that it would help, he shouted your name over the chatter of the other passengers. He turned around, fighting his way back to the gates, pushing against people and getting insulted in more languages than he understood.

A soft hand grabbed his and he froze. He whipped his head around and there you were, looking clearly a bit overwhelmed but smiling at him. He breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping. Out of instinct, he grasped your hand tighter, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded with a smile.

Neither of you let go of each other’s hand.

Hours later, when the ship finally started taking off, you were settled in the cantina.

The ship had dorms and suites and common rooms, more than anyone could ever count, but Din and Paz had decided that it would be safer for the time being to be in the cantina before figuring out any sleeping arrangements.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have gotten a suite,” Thalassa hissed, looking around her with disdain. It was clear that she did not appreciate being around ‘commoners’ as she had called them before and Paz wondered how she had lived her life in poverty and still ended up like this.

Fittingly enough, he could see how Din’s jaw clenched, how his eyes flashed with annoyance, and grinned. When he had thought of credits he certainly hadn’t thought of how annoying royalty could be to deal with.

“It would be too obvious, Thalassa,” you explained gently, sitting next to Paz and a datapad in your lap, “They already explained before. It will only be for a few days. Isn’t that right, Paz?”

His heart skipped a beat at you saying his name. You were already looking to him for backup, as if you trusted him with it, and the way his name rolled off your tongue … stars, he would dream of that tonight.

“Very right,” he replied, “Three days at the most, all of this will take less than a week if we’re lucky.”

“And if we’re not?” Thalassa challenged.

“Then it will take longer,” Din hissed.

Paz grinned. This would be a long journey.

When dinner had been served, the group had barely moved from their spot in the cantina.

Thalassa had been busy watching some holovid or another on a datapad and the best part about it was that she was silent. Under different circumstances, Paz might have been annoyed by how loud she was playing the holovid, the actor’s shrill voice sounding all the way through the cantina but he could not be bothered to care when the alternative was to explain to her for the hundredth time why she needed to be happy with the lower standard of accommodation.

Din was sitting next to the princess, thoroughly entranced by studying maps or researching new parts for the Crest or something.

But whom Paz was most focused on was you.

You had started to doze off in your seat next to him for a while now and your head kept leaning dangerously to the side, threatening to fall on his shoulder. Paz was tense. Slowly, he shifted closer to you until your cheek rested fully on his shoulder and he heard you sigh in your sleep and then … you shuffled closer to him.

Paz tensed even more, pretending to read the ship’s safety manual in his hands.

He still felt Din’s amused gaze on him though and he furiously tried to ignore the heat that rose in his cheeks. But you were soft and warm against him, completely relaxed now that your head was supported by something.

He wondered if you were cold. It was drafty in the cantina, maybe he should put his jacket over you? He would be fine with just wearing his shirt and the vest but he would have to move and what if that would wake you?

And how would he get you to your sleeping quarters without waking you? Would you be angry at him? He knew some people had trouble falling asleep on spacecrafts and what if you were one of them and you had finally managed to fall asleep only to be awakened by him and then you would not be able to sleep again and –

“Guess it is time to talk about the living arrangements,” Din muttered.

Thalassa put her datapad on the table with a clatter. “Finally,” she sounded exasperated, “I hope at least our sleeping accommodations will be sufficient.”

At the sound of her voice, you stirred next to him, your brows furrowing. Paz thought you looked adorable, like a loth cat that had fallen asleep in the sun with your cheek squished against the tweed of his suit.

“Hey, love,” he whispered, hoping no one heard how that pet name had slipped out of lips so naturally. He rose his hand to your cheek, gently coaxing you awake.

“Huh?” you murmured, blinking up confused at him before a small smile appeared on your lips.

Then you noticed the position you were in and, clearly embarrassed, scooted away from him.

“I am so sorry,” you mumbled, “That was very inappropriate of me.”

Paz wanted to protest and say that he would hold you in his arms for however long you wanted. He would be gladly at your service should you have need of a human pillow again. But even in his lovestruck state, he knew how ridiculous that sounded and so he managed to keep his mouth shut and only smile tightly at you.

“So,” Din pulled the attention on himself, “We have three beds and four people. One private room for two and one bunk bed in the larger dorms. I’d suggest you girls get the room and Paz and I take the bunk.”

“Absolutely not,” Thalassa protested, completely horrified. Paz furrowed his brows confused over why she was this opposed to something that should actually please her. Having a private room had to be one of the points on her secret lists of requirements, he was sure, why in the stars would she not want to stay in one?

“If people are out there searching for me I want to be roomed with someone who can protect me, not – not her, no offence, honey,” she gestured towards you.

“None taken,” you smiled slightly, then turned to Din, “But Thalassa is right. If people are hunting her like you say they are, then – maybe I should sleep in the dorm? I – surely, it won’t be thatbad.”

Everything in Paz’s stomach turned at the idea of you in one of the big dorms. This was the first time you had ever left your planet and you thought they would throw you into a dorm with a bunch of rowdy passengers? No way.

“Well, then how do we proceed?” Din asked, throwing a knowing look his way, “I guess it is best if Paz would be in the dorms with you, he is intimidating enough that people wouldn’t want to approach you.”

“Intimidating?” you asked confused, turning to look at Paz, “I – I don’t think he’s intimidating at all.”

Paz was positive that he had never been this flustered in his life. You didn’t think him to be intimidating. You were not intimidated by him. You were comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to even share a bunk with him.

“Is that so?” Din asked, hardly able to hide his grin, “Well, isn’t that interesting, Paz?”

Shut up, Paz thought, too focused on how you were still tucked into his side, the sleep barely gone from your eyes, Shut up and let me enjoy this.

The walk to the dorm was long and dark and for you, probably quite scary.

Paz was convinced that he had already witnessed at least two spice deals and you weren’t even halfway to the dorm. He was happy about it though because he was not sure what would have happened if anyone thought you had noticed their illegal wrongdoings.

But you were probably unaware of it.

You seemed to make sure never to stray too far from him or the path that you had set out for yourself, your hesitant footsteps echoing around the labyrinth that was the ship. He could see how tightly you were clutching your bag to your chest as he walked beside you and it took everything in him not to put his arm around your waist.

Where did this endless need to touch you come from?

When the door to the dormitory came into view, Paz took a deep breath, shouldered his bag. The weight of his blaster against his hop was a comfort as he braced himself for the worst. Dorms on ships these big … they could be bad.

“We’re bed 32B,” he told you and you nodded your understanding as the door slid open with a creak.

It was a huge room and it seemed endless. Paz could not even see the furthest wall from where he was standing at the entrance. But no matter how big the room seemed, it was absolutely packed with people of all ways of life and it was loud.

You backed up into him, your back bumping against his chest as a sound of fear escaped you.

“It’ll be alright, mesh’la,” he promised quietly, his hands finding your hips as he gently guided you forward. There was a resistance in your steps as he saw you watch your new surroundings. There were several bet games going on and from further down the room he was sure he heard some illegal loth cat races and even more angry shouts at a commotion just to your right.

The bunks that lined the walls each had four levels and Paz was somewhat relieved to find that your assigned bed was on the third one. Far enough up to avoid getting pulled into any of the conflicts. Far enough out of reach that he would have enough time to react if someone tried to come for you.

“I hope you don’t get claustrophobic too easily,” he muttered as he spotted how dark and small it looked. You might be able to sit up fully but he was certainly not.

Before you could step towards the ladder, however, a bright red arm stopped you, blocking your way. You squeaked and stepped right back into Paz’s chest whose arm came around your waist, holding you to him. He tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating at having you this close. Instead, he eyed the man in front of you who grinned confidently.

The alien’s eyes roamed over you slowly, dragging over every single inch of your body and Paz sneered, pulling you closer.

“Oh, where did you get this beauty, Mando?” the stranger asked, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he leered at you, “How much for a night of entertainment, girly? I promise I pay well.”

Paz did not even blink as he pulled his blaster and held it against the man’s forehead. “Touch her and you are dead,“ he growled, arm tensing around you.

Instantly, all eyes in the room focussed on the three of you and the charged weapon but he could not bring himself to care. His eyes were cold as he stared the man down, his other and still on you and he noticed how your shoulders relaxed.

The man shifted uneasily on his feet before he lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, taking a few steps backwards, “She’s yours, I get it, I’m backing off, you see, Mando? No need to point that thing at me.”

Paz did not lower the blaster until the man had disappeared into the darkness of the room. Soon the other passengers started minding their own business again, the chatter picking back up and the hissing of the loth cats sounding above everything else.

“C’mon,” he muttered to you, gently pushing you towards the ladder, “That one’s ours.”

You climbed into the bunk before him and scooted to the very edge of it to make space for him as well. Just as he had suspected, the bunk was too low for him and he needed to duck his head before he could even thinkof crawling into the small space.

The bunk was outfitted like most bunks he had slept in, a curtain to pull close during the night, a net at the side to store a small bag or other belongings and a dim night lamp. He pulled the curtain close immediately, fastening it at the side so no one from the outside could open it easily. Then he switched on the small lamp, flooding the little bunk with warm light.

The first thing both of you did was take off your shoes and putting them at the very end of the bed where a small shelf was located. Paz decided to store his backpack there as well. It did not necessarily feel very safe but he also did not want you to feel uncomfortable. The bunk was slim as it was.

“I – I still need to change,” you noted, shifting in what he now recognized as discomfort.

Paz felt his cheeks heating up at the implication.

“I’ll turn around and, uh, let you change,” he decided and turned his back to you. The only problem was that in his haste to offer you some privacy, Paz forgot that the bunk was not built for people of his size and smashed his head against the ceiling.

“Ouch!” he cursed, “Kriffin’ bantha –“ he grumbled, holding his head and hearing your giggle behind him.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to bring out between your quiet laughter, “It just looked so funny.”

He only grumbled, his head still pounding but his heart fluttering because you sounded so happy. It was lovely.

He took the chance to slip off his suspenders and unbutton his dress shirt, only leaving him in his Henley and his pants. It would be comfortable enough for a night’s sleep, he supposed.

When he felt you shift and rustle beside him, he took it as a sign that it was safe to turn around. This time, he ducked his head, making sure to not even come near the hard ceiling. You were dressed in your night shift, fiddling with your hands in front of your chest.

“Does – does it hurt very badly?” you asked guiltily, “Maybe we can find a bacta pill or something?”

Even in the dim light of the bunk, Paz could see the unease and guilt on your face. And he rushed to make you feel better.

“No worries, mesh’la,” he assured you, “It was just a bump and I suppose from the outside it must’ve been pretty funny.”

You smiled shyly at him, “It was and … if it makes you feel better, the next time I bump my head, you’re allowed to laugh as much as you want.”

With that, you settled down under the blankets, your cheek hitting the pillow as you expectantly looked up at him and patted the spot next to yours. “Aren’t you going to sleep too?”

He had no words. Not only were you smiling at him like that but now you also wanted him to – to really sleep beside you. No staying on top of the covers. No sitting at the end of the bed and looking out for trouble. You wanted him to sleep.

He laid down, turning so his back was towards the curtain and he was facing you. “It’s, uh it’s a tight fit,” he murmured trying to arrange his arms somehow. You smiled, carefully taking his hand and stars your skin was soft and put it behind you on your waist.

Immediately, his fingers spread out on your back, pulling you closer. The fabric of your nightdress was soft under his fingertips and he wondered if your skin felt like that too. He heard you take a deep breath and then he felt your fingers on the exposed skin of his chest, playing with the buttons of his Henley.

His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying your soft touches on him.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispered, your head tucked into his chest, “the blanket’s not very thick I could try and see if they have some more on -“

“It’s alright,” you cut him off, smiling up at him, “I’m – you – you’re very warm, but what is that?”

You shifted again and he felt something hard brush against his belly. He chuckled and put his finger to his lips to shush you with a conspiratory grin. Lifting the blanket, he revealed the blaster between the two of you.

Your eyes widened.

“Safety’s on,” he revealed, “but I don’t want to take any chances.”

You shuddered, “I’m not used to all this – this danger,” you confessed, your finger brushing against his chest and he made sure his hand didn’t flex too much on your back.

“I worry about it,” you said, “Of the things that could happen. Thalassa and I – we’ve never been anywhere but home and now this – this is so much.”

“It’ll be alright,” he promised quietly, “it’ll be alright. Just rest and as soon as you can blink we’re one day closer to Naboo.”

“W-will you be there when I wake up?”

“Yes.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader

133 notes · View notes

mysticpetals · 4 years ago

Text

Tempt me

Pairing: the man without a face (devil) × mc (angel)

Genre: angels and demons au

Warnings: dark fic, emotional manipulation

Summary: As a guardian angel, you've been working tirelessly for the humankind's sake. But their actions opposing yours have you doubting your worth.

Notes: This might seem like it's incomplete or started abruptly but it's supposed to be that way. The mc and mwaf have history which isn't completely revealed and that's why they act like that. Lmk what you thought!!

You looked ahead, watching the same people who you'd reconciled an hour ago, shouting and lying to each other's face.

"See?" His smug voice rings from behind you, your wings folding in as if sensing him coming closer. His cold fingertips brushing against your arm made you shiver. His hand slipped dangerously close to yours but didn't touch. You almost wished he had done that.

"They'll destroy each other. Nothing you can say will make them trust each other again," he said, standing beside you, wings as black as night touching yours, the color of clouds.

You didn't say anything, after all what could you? He was right wasn't he? You had just set them on the right path and now they stood before you, walking on their own.

"What do I do?" You asked, voice heavy with weariness and resignation.

"Fall." His answer was simple.

You whirled around in indignation, ready to retort how you could never do that when your voice caught in your throat. Was it the truth though?

He understood your dilemma, the storm inside you and reached out to brush his hand against your cheek but refrained at the last moment. You frowned, not understanding why his incomplete action bothered you so much when you shouldn't be ruffled by whatever he does.

"We both know it's the right choice, my dear," he said before backtracking. Tilting his head to one side, he opened his other hand which was fisted, showing you a grey feather.

His wings were black.

With horror, you extended your own and saw the tips of the previously snow white feathers turning grey. Your breath stuttered as you thought of what it meant, looking towards the man.

He smiled one last time, a knowing smile, and vanished in a blur of inky feathers.

You were left standing there, looking at Hannah and Thomas storming away from each other once again.

—————

You couldn't enter heaven anymore because of the doubts you harboured that had already started affecting your wings. But still, you were trying to help your charges be better.

It was hard, considering that they didn't want to be saved. You were Jessy's guardian but everything happened with the whole group so you tried to fix that, in hopes that Jessy might feel better.

It seemed that your efforts were not giving any fruits because the group was broken. Hannah and Thomas weren't together, Lilly had been keen to refuse contact with anyone other than her sister, Jake had disappeared once again after completing his goal and the rest weren't faring any better.

Jessy was considering leaving Duskwood behind because she didn't want to be reminded of what happened here. She liked Dan very much but she was beginning to think that staying behind for him wasn't worth it. You tried to show her how opening herself up to the people who cared about her was a good thing, yet your subtle hints and messages didn't make much of a difference.

Your own health deteriorating, you went to Dan's apartment, in hopes of finding something that could convince Jessy to stay. Maybe some pictures of her, something Dan wrote to her, something sentimental.

This idea was starting to look more and more bleak until you found a box hidden under his bed that seemed promising. You opened it and your heart almost stopped on seeing what was inside.

Pictures of him and Lilly, dozens of them filled it, dated from when he was talking to Jessy, convincing her to go out with him.

You felt sick, standing suddenly and rushing out of his apartment. How could he do this to her? She was so patient with him, so kind, yet this is what he did to appreciate it.

Without realising where you were heading or your surroundings, you ended up at Aurora's rooftop, eyes stinging with tears and mind in shambles.

Was any of it worth it? You had tried and tried and tried but how did it end? How did it always end?

Gentle fingers brushed against your cheeks, brushing away the tears, startling you. You looked up to see the devil's dark eyes, his expression uncharacteristically solemn.

You shifted a little turning away from him. You didn't want him to know that he had been right all along. A small part of you still wanted to believe that you could somehow fix this but deep down, you knew it wasn't possible.

"I found pictures in Dan's room of him and Lilly," you said. Not for one moment did you think that he didn't know what was happening within the group or what you were doing.

He hummed.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. If you could see his expression, you would have known that something was amiss, by the way his mouth curved into a smug smirk. But as you had turned your face away, you had no idea.

"Like I said, people will only disappoint you. Why try so hard for them when they don't want to be saved?"

You blinked back tears once again as you looked at him.

"Because that's all I've ever known."

His face didn't show anything but his hand came up beside yours to squeeze it in support.

"Not with me," he whispered.

You gazed locked with his for a few seconds, minutes, hour, you didn't know. All the while he was gently running his thumb across the back of your hand from where he gripped it.

"I...."

"I'll never push you, angel. Take your time. You know where to find me."

—————

The devil or the man without a face, as he liked to call himself, sat on his throne, judging the life of the souls that had recently entered hell.

Order and chaos had always coexisted so as much as he enjoyed sowing the seeds of chaos, he also had to fix the balance and right now, there were a million places he'd rather be, than subjecting long dead people to their punishments.

He felt, more than saw you coming. Your aura too pure, too bright for this godforsaken place. He smiled to himself as he rose from the throne, making his way towards you.

"But my lord—"

His hand silenced the servant that was trying to remind him of his work, his hollow eyes boring into the servant and the latter bowed his head, trembling in fear.

He walked outside, following your energy and came face to face with you at the doors of hell.

Your wings were almost grey now, only the roots remaining white, your face ashen and defeated. He had to hide his satisfaction as he saw your apprehensive look, eyes trailing around him before they finally settled on him.

You opened your mouth to talk but the words caught in your throat. He seemed to take pity on you and gestured you to come to him, hand outstretched towards you.

You hesitated, just for a second, a thousand thoughts and possibilities racing through your head but you were tired. So damn tired that you finally did the forbidden.

You stepped into hell.

The moment you put your hand in his, the remaining of your wings turned grey, a few inky feathers dotted in between.

No worries though, now that you were here, they'll all turn into black soon, he mused.

He couldn't help but smile at you, satisfaction radiating off of him and you felt his hapiness at your choice. Maybe you did the right thing after all.

He brought your hand to his lips, brushing softly against your knuckles and you shivered under his dark gaze.

"Welcome home, angel."

#duskwood #everbyte duskwood #duskwood game #everbyte #mwaf × mc #duskwood mwaf #duskwood mwaf × mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood fanfiction

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sickficsforthesoul · 3 years ago

Note

I’ve got a nice little prompt for you! (Actually two but I’ll put them in two separate asks).

This one is a character who may be out of your comfort zone but how about a sick Kuroo who has been sick for a while with what he thinks is something pretty mild so he takes a few days off but even though he’s not getting better he feels guilty about missing so much practice since he’s captain.

But then things go downhill and he gets a lot worse really fast.

Excited to see the things that come out of this blog!!

-Lu

Here's a surprise fic for you. I'm moving into my college dorm Sunday, so I'm writing as much as I can before then to make up for that and not posting much this week.

I hope I did Kuroo justice in this, so enjoy!

Captain Cat's Conundrum

Sick Kuroo and caretakers Kai and Yaku with a bit of Kenma for good measure

Word count: 2185 words

Tetsurou had a cold. He was curled up under heavy blankets in his bed, coughing, shivering, and aching for the past three days. Tetsurou had already missed the past three days of school and practice because his mother insisted that he rest and recover at home. Tetsurou knew she was right, and he also knew that going to school would spread his germs to other students. Still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty over missing so much practice. Yaku and Kai had brought his schoolwork along with updating him on the team’s progress, but Tetsurou wasn’t satisfied. He was the team captain! He should be at practice with his team, not sitting in bed with a little cold.

So Tetsurou had snuck out the next morning, creeping out of the house with his school supplies and volleyball bag before his mother came to check on him. His mother would kill him when he got home, but Tetsurou would deal with that later. Tetsurou jogged to school to avoid being late for morning practice. He stopped at the gym doors to catch his breath, coughing lightly to clear mucus from his throat. Once his throat was cleared, Tetsurou entered the gym with his usual grin.

“Hey guys,” Tetsurou called to his teammates.

“Kuroo!” Lev and Shibayama shouted happily.

“Took you long enough, Roosterhead,” Yaku teased while walking over to Tetsurou. “Any longer, and I was going to make myself captain instead.”

“Liberoes can’t be captains, Yaku,” Kai chided from the bench. “How are you, Kuroo? Are you feeling better?”

“Definitely,” Tetsurou grinned, “my mom was just overreacting. You know how she is.”

“That’s true,” Kenma said quietly from behind Tetsurou.

“Gah!” Tetsurou jumped at his best friend’s sudden appearance. “Don’t do that to me, Kenma,” Tetsurou coughed. “I’m an old man. My heart can only take so much shock, you know!”

“You’re not that old,” Kenma muttered as he pushed past Tetsurou to enter the gym.

Kai looked at Tetsurou with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? That cough didn’t sound good.”

“I’m fine,” Tetsurou reassured his friend. “The cough will go away on its own. Haven’t you ever had a cough after you had a cold for a while?”

“I suppose I have,” Kai said, but his face was still doubtful. “You’ll tell us if you start feeling sick, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. I’m not that dumb,” Tetsurou scoffed.

“I sure hope you’re not,” Yaku eyed Tetsurou suspiciously. “If you don’t tell us, I’ll kick your ass for lying to us.”

“So violent, Yakkun!” Tetsurou sighed dramatically. “This is why you’re the demon senpai. Even the devil himself is scared of you.”

Yaku launched himself at Tetsurou with a shriek of fury. Tetsurou laughed and dodged Yaku’s attack, but the libero didn’t give up, opting to chase Tetsurou around the gym instead. Kai awkwardly watched the duo for a few minutes before joining in the chase too to catch the troublesome third years (“Wait, guys! We have practice right now. You can’t just goof off the entire time! You’re setting a bad example for the others!”).

Tetsurou made it through morning practice and the first half of the day with no issue, but by lunch, certain problems were beginning to emerge. The first was Tetsurou’s ever-growing headache. It pounded in his temples throughout lunch, distracting him from his friends and food. The second was his cough. It was stronger than that morning, and Tetsurou was struggling to hide his coughing fits from the watchful eyes of Kai and Yaku. The final problem was the terribly uncomfortable combination of chills and aches wracking his body. Tetsurou’s muscles ached as his body shivered despite the fairly warm air around him.

Tetsurou stumbled through his afternoon classes, feigning attention to hide how sick he was feeling. Thankfully, Yaku and Kai weren’t in his afternoon classes to witness Tetsurou’s pitiful acting because Tetsurou was sure they would have dragged him home on the spot. But Tetsurou can’t let that happen. He has practice after school, and he was determined to make up for all that he’d missed in the past few days.

When classes finally end, Tetsurou walked leisurely to the gym for practice. He somehow was the first to arrive, so he began an easy warm-up. By the time he was finished, everyone else was in the gym warming up too. Tetsurou also felt slightly better, the ache in his muscles dulled by the adrenaline now in his system. The cough and headache still proved to be a problem, but Tetsurou had become much better at ignoring the headache and swallowing back coughs before they could escape. Even so, Yaku and Kai stared at him for a minute, both his friends suspicious of Tetsurou’s health. They only stopped when Coach Naoi fussed at them to warm up instead of standing around.

The rest of practice followed a similar pattern. No matter what Tetsurou was doing, Kai and Yaku were never far away, always watching for any cracks in their captain’s façade of good health. By the end of practice, Kai and Yaku were starting to think that they might have overreacted at morning practice. Tetsurou looked mostly fine all practice. Maybe his cheeks were a little flushed or his breathing a bit heavy, but that could easily be attributed to the amount of exercise he was doing.

Coach Nekomata was unusually spartan with his training throughout practice. So far, the team had done sprints, flying falls, receiving drills, and blocking drills all in the span of an hour and a half, so most of the team looked just as disheveled as Tetsurou by the end of practice. Coach Nekomata dismissed them a few minutes ago, but the third years and Kenma remained in the gym with the coaches. The third years were supposed to help clean up, and Kenma stayed because he always walked home with Tetsurou.

With everyone else gone, the coaches went to Nekomata’s office to get their things while the third years cleaned. Kai and Yaku got to work immediately, but Tetsurou lagged behind his friends. The adrenaline in his system was fading, and the aches and chills returned with a vengeance as Tetsurou’s head continued to throb. His lungs twinged uncomfortably, a cough building in his throat. Tetsurou tried to stifle it, but his body was done obeying him. Instead, a loud hacking cough escaped Tetsurou’s throat and echoed through the mostly empty gym.

Kai and Yaku whipped around to face their captain, shocked by the nasty cough, but Tetsurou wasn’t done. His abused lungs were tired of holding back, and his body spasmed with pain. Another cough tore out of Tetsurou’s throat, and then another. Coughs wracked Tetsurou’s shivering frame, and the boy fell to his knees as the coughing fit deprived his lungs of much-needed oxygen. Tetsurou’s head spun, his eyes foggy and unable to focus on anything.

Coughs continued to come. Tetsurou’s body was screaming for oxygen, but his lungs couldn’t calm down enough to let any air through. Tetsurou wheezed miserably, body shaking with strain and exhaustion. What the hell was happening? Tetsurou was fine that morning (well, maybe not that fine, but not this bad either), so how did he deteriorate so quickly? Tetsurou’s racing thoughts did nothing to ease the headache, and Tetsurou was sure that if he didn’t stop coughing soon, he might end up passed out on the gym floor.

Someone rubbed his back. Tetsurou lifted his heavy head to see Yaku carefully but firmly rubbing his back. The pressure helped Tetsurou focus and relax, causing his breathing speed to decrease and his coughs to lessen. Another hand came to rest on Tetsurou’s forehead (Kai’s, Tetsurou assumed), most likely taking his temperature. Tetsurou also saw Kenma walking toward him, holding Tetsurou’s water bottle. Kenma offered him the bottle, and Tetsurou took a small sip, hands still shaky and unsure. After a few sips, Yaku and Kai manhandled Tetsurou until he was sitting on his backside instead of his knees. Yaku and Kai looked at him sternly, and Tetsurou knew he was in very big trouble.

Surprisingly, Kai was the first one to speak. “Kuroo, why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?”

“I was feeling b-better during practice, so I d-didn’t think it was t-that bad,” Tetsurou muttered, his words broken up by coughs.

Yaku raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really, Roosterhead? That’s the best excuse you can come up with?”

“...Yes…?” Tetsurou said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer, even to his own ears.

“...You can tell us, Kuroo. We’re still your friends, even when you’re acting stupid.” Kenma leveled Tetsurou with a flat but stern gaze, and Tetsurou knew he had no choice but to explain.

“I feel bad, okay?!” Tetsurou snapped. “I’ve already missed three days of practice for a stupid cold, and I can’t miss any more practice, or I’ll get behind!”

“You can be such an idiot sometimes, Kuroo,” Yaku sighed, eyes oddly soft. “You’re allowed to miss practice when you’re sick. We know you wouldn’t skip practice, and no one wants your nasty germs in the gym anyway.”

“Yes, Kuroo,” Kai chimed in gently. “Our coaches aren’t so terrible that they’d make you practice while sick.”

“I know that,” Tetsurou sighed, “but it’s different for me. I’ve already missed too much, and I can’t stand missing any more practice!”

Kenma tilted his head lazily. “Why’s it different for you, Kuroo?” Kenma asked calmly.

“Because I’m the captain!” Tetsurou exclaimed, coughing as air caught in his lungs. “I can’t afford to slack off. I have to set a good example. I have to…” Tetsurou was crying at that point, exhaustion amplifying his emotions to an extreme level.

“Kuroo…” Kai whispered as he wrapped a sobbing Tetsurou in a delicate hug. “You are setting a good example. You’re a wonderful captain, and everyone on the team knows it.”

Yaku snuck into the hug too, squeezing Tetsurou with his warm, comforting arms. “Kai’s right, Kuroo. You’re a good captain. You know I’d kick your ass if you weren’t right?”

“Yes,” Tetsurou mumbled through more tears.

“And since I haven’t kicked your ass, do you know what that means?” Yaku pressed as Tetsurou’s sobs become quiet.

“That I’m a good captain?” Tetsurou asked, voice rough from tears and coughs.

“Exactly,” Yaku smiled warmly. “You’re a very good captain, Kuroo, but do you know what else you are?”

“...An idiot?” Tetsurou guessed, reaching up to wipe away any remaining tears.

Yaku chuckled softly. “Got it in one. Now let’s get you home. I don’t think you have a cold anymore. Kai?”

“It seems more like the flu to me. That fever is far too high to be just a cold,” Kai agreed, helping Yaku pull Testurou off the gym floor. “What do you think, Kenma?”

“Flu, probably. His symptoms match pretty well,” Kenma answered, stepping back to give Kai and Yaku room to work. “He could have had a cold earlier and picked up a flu virus on top of that.”

“Man, Kuroo, your luck sucks!” Yaku snickered as he supported Tetsurou. “You’re lucky you didn’t pass out. Coach Naoi would have freaked out if he had to call an ambulance for you.”

“You’re so mean, Yaku,” Tetsurou whined with as much energy as he could muster. “No wonder Lev is so scared of you, you snarky little devil!”

“I’m not little!” Yaku huffed but continued to support Tetsurou to the door.

“You two are too much sometimes,” Kai sighed at their antics. “Kenma, can you show us where Kuroo lives?”

“Yeah. Follow me,” Kenma agreed easily. “Hey Kuroo, you know I’m gonna tell your mom everything, right?”

Tetsurou’s eyes widened in horror. “Kenma, you can’t! She’ll never let me live this down! Please don’t tell her. I’m begging you!”

Kenma giggled at Tetsurou’s uncharacteristic behavior. “But if I don’t tell her, then she’ll fuss at me. I don’t like to be fussed at, Kuroo.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Tetsurou begged. “Just don’t tell my mom!”

Kenma’s face twisted into a mirthful smirk. “Okay. We’ll have a Super Smash Bros. tournament as soon as you get better.”

Tetsurou’s face fell instantly. “Smash Bros? But I suck at that game!”

“I know,” Kenma nodded sagely. “Kai, Yaku, you guys can come too if you want.”

“Sounds good, Kenma. Let us know when you pick a date and time,” Kai smiled at the setter. Yaku snickered and nodded in agreement.

Tetsurou groaned inwardly. These people were really his friends, huh? But they were taking him home after he got sick, Tetsurou reasoned. They were also helping him walk, and Tetsurou had no doubt that they wouldn’t leave his house until they had him feed, in bed, and drugged up on flu medicine. They were kind and caring when they wanted to be, and Tetsurou appreciated all they were doing for him right now. Maybe his friends weren’t so bad after all.

(No, scratch that. They were making fun of him for maining Kirby in Smash now. They were definitely assholes.)

#sickiesoul writes #sickfic #fever #coughing #influenza #cold #kuroo tetsurou #kenma kozume #yaku morisuke #kai nobuyuki #haikyu!! whump #haikyu whump #haikyuu whump #haikyuu!!#anime whump

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bxccxdxll · 4 years ago

Text

A Purple Carnation

Summary: Bucky helps you through one of the toughest losses in your life.

Pairing(s): Bucky x Reader

TW: Death, sickness

Word count: 1012

A/N: My friend died this week. She was only 16 but lived long past when we expected her to. The loss didn’t really hit me till today so this is part of grieving I guess. It’s also 4am while I’m writing this soooo yeah. I hope it's not horrible:)

You and Bucky hadn’t been together for long when it happened. Almost exactly six wonderful months before your world was brought down on your head. Your best friend had been sick for a while but she had been getting better.

Two weeks ago she had started deteriorating. And this time was different. Something about it felt so final but you didn’t want to accept that.

This was the third time in the past year and what felt like the millionth in her lifetime that she had been hospitalized and it broke your heart a little more each time.

You had been in the hospital with her everyday holding her hand and telling her everything would be okay. But the truth was that you didn’t know if she’d be okay. You didn’t even know if you’d be okay seeing her so sick.

It was that last day, exactly ten days after she’d been hospitalized. You had been exhausted when you woke up and didn’t want to get up. You rolled over and tucked yourself back into Bucky’s chest. He grinned into your hair before giving you a soft kiss on your forehead.

“You ready to get up babydoll?” He asked. You grunt in response, earning a soft chuckle and gentle rumble from Bucky’s chest.

You lifted your head for a moment to glare at him before pulling the covers over your head to hide from the warm rays of sunlight streaming through the open curtains.

“Okay sweetheart, let’s sleep in today okay? You worked yourself to the bone all week so you’ve earned this.”

You hummed in agreement and quickly slipped back into a peaceful slumber.

You were woken five hours later by the piercing ringtone coming from your phone. You quickly answered the call and pulled it up to your ear.

“Hello?...... What?…. No. nonononono. Please tell me this is some kind of cruel joke……. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The phone slipped from your hand before you could even end the call. Bucky had woken at the same time as you and only heard your part of the conversation.

“What happened?” he asked. “She’s… she’s gone. She died two hours ago. And I wasn’t there for her. Bucky I wasn’t there! I promised her I would be!”

You collapsed into Bucky’s arms and he held you. You clung to him as if he were your last tether to this earth.

The days since that call had been a blur. You helped your friend's parents plan the funeral. It was hard and you all cried more tears than you thought possible. The hardest part was the music.

You had promised to your friend before she passed, that you would sing for her at the funeral. She had even put it in her will. So you did it. Picking only her favourite songs and having them prepared for the funeral just two days after she died.

Bucky had been at your side the entire time. Cooking and cleaning and making sure you didn’t forget to take care of yourself through all your grief.

You loved him. He was everything you could've asked for and more.

Today was to be the hardest day of your life. Saying a final goodbye to your best friend, your sister when she shouldn’t have been gone anyways. She was so young, had an entire lifetime ahead of her but the sickness had gotten the best of her.

Bucky held your hand the entire time. Only letting go to let you go up and sing. You sang your heart out and by the end had tears streaming down your face and were heaving breaths. Bucky had come up and wrapped you in his arms to guide you back to your seats. Letting you sob into his chest as he whispered words of affirmation in your ear. Giving you an occasional kiss on the head.

When the funeral was over and everyone had paid their respects, you were allotted some time to say goodbye on your own. You had asked Bucky to stay outside and wait for you which he happily did, knowing that you needed some time alone to say goodbye to your partner in crime.

It was ten minutes later when he came in to see you on the floor in front of the coffin sobbing. Tucking your knees to your chest and your head to your knees and letting it all out. The anguish and sadness, the loss and love, the “you were supposed to still be here.”

It brought tears to his eyes. Seeing you so vulnerable and in so much pain. It broke his heart but he stayed composed as he walked towards your shaking form. Sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap and rocking you. Not saying a word, just giving you time to calm down and process your grief while being there if you were to need him.

Eventually you caught your breath and were able to unfold yourself to look Bucky in the eyes.

“Why did she have to die? Why couldn’t it have been me?”

“Hey hey hey, no baby don’t say that. You know this wasn’t your fault and you know that she wouldn’t have wanted it the other way around.” Bucky assured you as he pulled you tighter to his chest.

“I know but still. I don’t want her to be gone.” You mumbled into his neck.

“I know sweetheart, trust me I know but she’s in a better place now, and she’s not sick or in pain anymore. She can be happy.”

“You’re right.”

After holding you for a few minutes more, Bucky helped you stand, not letting go of your hand. He stepped up to the casket with you and handed you the flower you had dropped.

A purple carnation. Your favourite flower in her favourite colour. It had been the symbol of your friendship for as long as you could remember.

Saying your last goodbye you turned into Bucky’s chest and let him hold you as you walked away.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #tw: death

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borealis-strange · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 6 “The witch market”

Link

Summary:

Franco and Regina finally arrive in the glorious Palladium city, also known as the "Phoenix city" for being reborn from the ashes.

They explore the entire city, seeing everything new it has to offer. The new buildings and the witch market.

After a long day of walking, Franco meets an old friend...

Notes:

I'm thinking of doing some drawings and add them to the story. What do you guys think?

Tag-list: @freesiafields @bambirexwrites @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen @vaeya @sirenlovesqueen @moreofthatqueen @eileen-crys

If someone wants to be added or removed from the tag-list, just tell me :}

We decided to leave Gold Pine right after breakfast, rather, Franco decided that. He said something about him wanting to spend more time at Paladium. I didn't blame him, he surely wanted to see how much the city had changed since his departure.

We went to the big red brick station. The place was packed with people, which surprised me. I understood that this station was only about 15 years old, plus it only had trains that led to Paladium. In a way, it reminded me of the entrance to The Shelter, mostly because of the busy people who kept pushing you.

We bought the cheapest ticket we could get, which was only a few copper coins, and we set off on our journey.

The train turned out better than I expected; even though the seats were so close to each other that they stifled a bit, but that was the least of it. At least we had managed to sit together.

The train ride was uneventful, without much to see.

I hadn't been on a train in years, four to be exact, and that's when I left The Shelter. I was only 14 years old and I remember how scared I was traveling all over the Empire on my own. How small and lost I was not knowing where to go. Now all that has changed, I am very grateful that I now had Franco to accompany me.

I turned to see him. His gaze was still lost in the window and I could see how Franco's hands were trembling slightly.

— All good? — Asked.

Franco turned to see me with some nervousness and took his hands to control them.

— Yes… all good — Was the only thing he said before looking out the window again.

__________________

After just over two hours of travel, we finally reached the huge and glorious Palladium city. I had heard some calling it Phoenix City for having survived its destruction and rising from the ashes.

We crossed the city on the train and I was amazed by its large stone buildings where pointed arches were used, roofs with steep slopes and elegant carvings such as lace and latticework. Even though there were still several buildings under construction, the city looked fantastic. ///

I watched as the buildings stopped going by so fast as the train slowed down little by little. Finally it stopped completely. We grab our things before getting off next to the sea of people.

The station was packed with people, which surprised me even more. There were still not too many roads, that I know you could only go to Gold Pine and the Tree city, but maybe they had already built more railways.

We made our way through the people as best we could, until we found the exit.

Right at the exit was a statue of a Netherite knight, as if he was protecting everyone who came to the city. I could see that it had a few flowers at the base. Franco approached the statue and looked at it for a moment before continuing on his way.

As I left the station, the sun dazzled me slightly, presenting the great city to me. Franco stayed a few seconds admiring the city and I did the same. It was simply beautiful, like none I had ever seen before.

I turned to see Franco for a second, he had crystalline eyes, it seemed that he was going to cry at any moment.

— Are you alright — I asked

— Yes ... it's just that ... the last time I saw the Paladium city was when it was destroyed —Franco replied in a whisper — I never believed they were going to rebuild it as beautiful as it once was —

— Was Paladium the same as now? — I asked.

— No… it's quite different… actually — Franco replied, as if he still couldn't believe we were here. — It's ... much better ... than I expected —

I smiled a little. I couldn't imagine how many thoughts should be going through his head, the only thing I could decipher was some relief. Franco started walking and I followed him.

— And where do you want to go? — Asked.

— I don't know — Franco confessed as he shrugged. — Somewhere ... would be fine —

This… would be interesting. Neither of us had come to the new city. Franco could guide us a bit but who knows how much the city has changed in 30 years.

The first thing we did was look for a hostel to stay in. To be able to leave the backpacks and not have to carry them around the city.

After doing that, Franco guided me through different streets of the city showing me different places, or rather where they were thirty years ago. He showed me where the old knight academy should be, where he did much of his training. He told me that there came knights from all over the Empire since it was the best Academy. It was unfortunate that they did not rebuild it. We couldn't figure out what they were doing now in that place

He also took me where the old castle of the King of Farfania was, now they seemed to be building a great cathedral. Franco told me that he served his former queen for a time. He said that the castle was a beautiful and elegant place, where he had met some of his friends.

Franco showed me an old theater, which according to him had been rebuilt as it was. I had never been a big fan of the theater, and Franco apparently neither, but even so he remembered a few plays. Franco confessed that he came to come a couple of times for a girl that he liked. He couldn't tell me what happened to that relationship.

We come to an area with different houses. Franco told me that this is the street where he grew up. He told me how he used to be a bit of a messy and rebellious kid, who used to get in trouble with everyone. Until, he decided to join the royal guard when he was only 16 years old. He said it was difficult, that no one had confidence in him but he still managed to have great rank and recognition.

We ended up arriving at a large park, full of large trees and people walking and playing. Most striking was the large statue of a Netherite knight in the center.

Franco walked automatically to the large statue, and I followed him.

It was at least 10 meters tall, made of iron that had deteriorated over time. The knight had a heroic pose, raising his sword into the air. The base was made of marble and had a plaque with a dedication. I leaned a little closer to see what it was saying.

“To the 19 Netherite knights who sacrificed their lives for others. We will never forget such a heroic act. Rest in peace and may glory always be with you "

Below were the 19 names, of which I did not recognize any.

—The Netherite knights — I said in a whisper.

Franco came silently to my side and began to analyze the names. I felt like my heart skipped a beat, he had met each one of them.

— One is missing — I heard Franco say, I assumed he said it to himself because of the low voice that he said.

— The King of Farfania — I completed

Franco seemed to laugh when I said that.

— Yes — He said sadly — He used to have a statue, right in this place. He destroyed it himself —

— Why? — I asked as if Franco had the answer.

— He said that statue did not represent him and that they would make a real one when he saved the Empire — Franco said in a low voice.

— He was really crazy — I commented.

Franco looked at me with sad eyes before looking back from him to the statue.

We stayed a few more minutes appreciating the great stature. Franco moved a little closer to the plate and seemed to say a few words. Maybe some prayer or thanks for the fallen knights or… apologize for not being able to save them.

I don't know if I should tell them something, it would be rude of me not to.

“Thank you for his heroic act. For having saved thousands of people and giving people hope" I said while touching the plate. I wish I had flowers to leave them.

When Franco finished, he gestured to me that it was time to go.

We continued walking in the big city but this time Franco did not tell me about the old buildings or their history. He just walked around like I wasn't with him. Although, this time it seemed that Franco knew where he wanted to go. I ran a little to catch up

— And where will we go? — I asked excitedly when I got to his side.

— Now that I think about it ... I would like to see if The Witch Market still exists — Franco replied with a small smile.

— The what? — I asked.

— Don't tell me you haven’t heard about it! The best market of all, where there are only things of the best quality — Franco said proudly.

I couldn't help but laugh a little at Franco's excitement. To be honest, he had never seen him like this.

____________________

We didn't have to walk too far to get to the market,

The market was inside a one-story tall building. It had a large entrance with doors made of metal. On the sides were large colorful stained glass windows. The crystals were not only the windows but also represented figures of different creatures, day and night, in addition to various plants, more than just windows, they seemed a work of art

Franco stopped for a moment before entering the market and I appreciated it for a moment.

— It seemed that this if they wanted to leave - Franco said with a big smile.

— Are we coming to buy something in particular? — Asked.

— To get you a shield — Franco replied happily — You've been without one for too long. —

— Pfff — I exclaimed with a gesture with my hands — Why do I need a shield? I know how to fight — I said nonchalantly.

— You may know how to fight but you do not know how to defend yourself. This is the new part of your training: coordinating between defense and attack. And it is more difficult than it sounds. Believe me — Franco explained with a smile.

How difficult could it be? I defend myself with one arm and attack with the other. And voila, I know how to defend myself.

— Why don't you explore a bit? — Franco told me. — We still need food, plus you will surely find something you like. See you at the entrance in an hour —

Franco patted me on the back before losing himself in the crowd. The atmosphere was energetic inside the market, with all the people mobilizing and the vendors shouting.

I entered with some nervousness, to tell the truth, I had never been to a market, mostly because my uncle would not let me leave the castle. I couldn't be nervous, I had defeated a golem! This should be easier.

Even though the market was not as crowded as I expected, I still had to dodge people, mostly those who were watching the stalls.

All the stalls were quite different from each other, apart from selling food, they also sold clothes, books, plants, anything you could imagine, you could get it here.

I went over to one of the candy stalls, where everything smelled delicious. It sold everything, caramel cookies, milk balls, golden licorice and more sweets that I could not decipher what they were, I suppose they were traditional from other species.

Then I went to a goblin's stand, where he had all kinds of plants, both decorative and for making potions. It was also filled with flowers of all colors and sizes, all of which gave off a sweet scent. There were even plants that I had never seen, like some kind of algae but in different colors and seemed to move slightly. The seller explained to me that he had obtained it from the depths of The coast of Silence and he explained that some people used it as a method of transportation, he did not want to give me a demonstration because of how dangerous the plant could be.

I saw a stall where they sold clothes, which took me by surprise but I still decided to go closer. They sold clothes made of different types of fabric that did not fit well together, but had a certain charm. They were mostly dresses.

There was a stall where a wizard sold wands. I would have tried them if it hadn't been that I had no magic. The wizard told me that he carved the wands himself, taking care of every detail. They were really pretty, plus apparently they all had a unique engraving.

I approached another of the stalls. One where they sold fresh fruit of all kinds; apples, watermelons, pears, plums, peaches, everything. They looked pretty good, unlike the other stalls.

— Wow — exclaimed the woman who attended the stall — I haven't seen enchanted armor in years. Why do you need armor like that? —

— Oh. It is for when I enter the Royal Guard — I said with pride.

— The royal guard? — Said the surprised woman. — That thing dissolved years ago—

That was not true! I think… Franco used to tell me how he did his service in Tree City and Paladium, and that it was usual for knights to be in big cities but… so far he hadn't seen any.

— Dissolved? — I asked confused.

— Why do you think there are no longer knights in the cities? Well… it was not completely dissolved, the few remaining knights do their service on the walls. It is rare to see someone doing his service in cities or towns — The woman said while she attended to another person.

— Why did it dissolve? — I asked.

— Have you lived under a stone all this time? — Said the woman contemptuously — The fall of Farfania! Unfortunately, several knights died to protect civilians. Especially the Netherite knights, the poor people went to face the king of Farfania alone and well ... you can imagine what happened. Some say that the Netherite knight killed the others because he wanted to be the only one “worthy” of that rank —

That was… much worse than I had imagined.

— After that a huge collective fear arose. — The woman continued — During the following years people lived scared that the king of Farfania would return, so many people decided to retire from the royal guard, although it seems that it is already recovering. Also ... come closer girl — she indicated — There are rumors that the Netherite Knight has returned — she said in a low voice just for me to hear her.

— Seriously? — I was puzzled. That was impossible but… just like my uncle had said, they left him alive.

— Like I said girl, they are just rumors. There have been several robberies of powerful objects throughout the empire and since the kings have not said anything about it, people create their own theories —

— What… things have they stolen? — I asked.

— Everything, books, armor, a lot of building materials, red stone, there are even people who say they have kidnapped fairies. Total chaos —

My mind returned when we went to the Poppy Garden. The fairies had mentioned a wither skeleton. Was he ... the Netherite knight?

— And how are people so sure that he is the Netherite knight? —

— It's hard to forget those white eyes and shadowy appearance — The woman replied.

It was the Wither skeleton. Or at least someone who could easily be mistaken for the knight. Oh Gods, I had messed with some copycat! I hoped that the fairies and Vandal had nothing to do with the knight, but something in me told me that this was not true.

— Are you going to buy fruit or not? — 0The woman took me out of my thoughts.

At the end I brought a few apples and peaches, before I left, not without earning the dissatisfied look of another customer.

I left the market thinking about what the woman had told me. They were just rumors but the rumors have some truth. And if wither skeleton wasn't the Netherite knight, he must be some madman who wanted to replicate his footsteps. The truth did not know which was worse. I should tell Franco about this, mostly because of Vandal. The boy must have something on his hands but Franco had told me to leave him alone. I had to find some way to convince him to seek out and confront Vandal.

After a few minutes, Franco arrived, carrying a gleaming shield.

— I found this and at a very good price — Franco said with emotion — Wouldn't you like to try it? —

I left my worries behind and agreed.

__________________

Franco ended up guiding me back to the knight's park. I didn't know if it was such a good idea to practice there, but when I saw that it was now practically empty, I ended up accepting.

We looked for a space where there were not too many trees and I started with a little warm-up.

Franco sat on one of the benches with some difficulty and from there he began to give me instructions.

I tried my best to imitate everything he said to me. I knew the terms and positions perfectly, but apparently Franco did not find it appropriate.

— You're not doing it right! — Franco yelled at me. I stopped immediately to turn to see him — Your posture is not adequate —

— It would be easier if I didn't have imaginary enemies — I reproached him.

— Do you want real enemies? — Franco said as he got up from the bench with difficulty — I will be your opponent -

Franco stood in front of me, and looked at me challengingly and with a smug smile.

— Seriously? I thought you couldn't fight — I said amused.

— Of course I can! —Franco exclaimed — I'm a little rusty but it won't be a problem against a rookie —

— Okay — I said between a laugh — But you don't even have a sword —

— I suppose that with my cane it will be enough — Franco said with a smile — It will only be to explain the fundamentals and that you understand better. No need to get aggressive —

I had to suppress a laugh.

—We'll start slow — Franco said as he got into position to start. I imitated him.

Franco told me to follow his movements like a mirror; Franco did them slowly and calmly. Most of the exercises were straightforward, as Franco said it was mostly for coordination. Franco told me that later he would teach me more complicated things but that this was a good start.

I was surprised by how easily Franco managed to move. The only thing was that he seemed not to want to put much support on his left foot.

I don't know how long we were training. Although I would have liked a "real fight", it would be interesting, especially with Franco. I had to be patient, I suppose there will be a chance at another time.

— With that you will have enough for today — Franco told me as he gave me a small bow.

I returned the bow and put my sword away.

— And how did I do it? — I asked excitedly.

— Good — Franco said with a small smile — You are doing quite well — He said, giving me a few pats on the back.

______________

After a long day of walking around the city, all Franco wanted to do was rest. His leg was killing him with pain, he hoped that the next day the pain would subside, he didn't want to have to tell Regina that they couldn't travel. Although it wouldn't be so bad now that he thought about it, he could explore other areas of the city that they hadn't visited that day.

He sat on his bed, ready to go to sleep, when a strange breeze filled the room. Franco managed to see a shadow crawl across the ground to form a peculiar figure.

— You are very difficult to find, you know? — Said a voice behind him.— And I have to say ... The years have not been good to you —

That voice, that voice so deep it could make anyone's hair stand on end. That voice, that belonged to a Wither skeleton.

— What do you want!? — Franco yelled, turning behind him.

Rich was still the same as thirty years ago. The same white eyes, the same red coat, and the same gloomy appearance. Although he had to say that he looked too…. worn out somehow.

The skeleton put a finger over his mouth.

— If I were you, I would not speak so loud — Rich spoke calmly. — We don't want to wake people up —

Franco looked at him suspiciously.

— What do you want? — Franco repeated in a low voice.

— I can't visit an old friend? — Said the skeleton mockingly as he began to walk around the room — Being in these directions I remembered the old days. You remember that day? The last time we saw each other. —

— Of course I remember — Franco lamented.

The skeleton approached the window and slightly opened the curtain. He observed all the people passing by on the street, no one noticed his presence. After a few seconds, the skeleton spoke again.

— They kings rebuilt a part of the Empire, when will they do the same with the rest? — He commented without turning to see Franco

— They won't unless…— Franco broke off quickly.

— Unless, we destroy the Empire. Franco, you are finally understanding what I came for — Said the skeleton with a malicious smile and finally looking back at Franco.

— I will not return to that cause! — Franco yelled furious as he got up from the bed.

— Why? If you let me into the Empire in the first place. — The skeleton approached Franco defiantly — You supported the cause with your heart and sword. It's a matter of time until you get back to it. Also, haven't you seen what we've created? When we destroyed Farfania, people advanced, created new things that were previously believed to be just dreams —

— Stop it! Don't ever mention anything about that again! —

— Don't scream. Or do you want the girl to find out about your betrayal of the empire? —

Franco looked away from him. When he turned around, Rich was already gone.

For years he had tried to get away from that black stain in his past, but somehow it always came back. And worst of all, Rich had survived, something he thought impossible, but when you're a skeleton, you really can't die, right?

#queen fic #queen fanfiction #fem queen #fem! queen #between faith and the sword #my fic #roger taylor #magic au #fantasy au

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Text

Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3

Sometimes, Lan Wangji would weigh the various downsides of being injured against each other to see which one was the worst.

It was not, in Lan Wangji’s opinion, the pain.

After all, he’d long ago learned to cultivate through suffering, subjecting himself to discipline and the bite of the Cold Springs. Yes, the wounds of the discipline whip took a long time to heal, a constant throbbing agony, but Jiang Cheng faithfully applied a salve to them twice daily (sometimes after kicking the bed to get Lan Wangji’s attention if he happened to be in a stupor, because the man had no notion of grace) and prepared for nourishing soups and bitter medicines to help ease the feeling.

It took Lan Wangji months and an unfortunate incident with Jin Ling sliding himself forward on his belly towards the kitchen with remarkable speed to realize that Jiang Cheng prepared the food and medicine himself. It was supposedly to protect Lan Wangji’s privacy and better keep the secret of his existence, according to a flustered Jiang Cheng upon being confronted, but Lan Wangji knew that he was lying.

Lan Wangji had good hearing, after all, and Jiang Cheng sometimes left the door to his room open a crack, especially if Jin Ling was asleep in his crib in the corner, and, well –

Jiang Cheng talked to himself when he cooked.

(“Damnit, jiejie, did you have to pick the world’s most finicky recipe?” he’d grumble under his breath. “So many onions! I swear you secretly increased the number just to make me cry more – is that why it never tastes like yours?”

A pause.

“I didn’t mean it, jiejie. I know you’d never mess with your recipes, you always said that making us food was how you showed your love for us…what do you mean the soup’s just like me? I’m not finicky.”)

That had eased the pain even more. To know someone cared enough to –

Lan Wanji didn’t say anything about those conversations, or the worrying things they suggested about the state of Jiang Cheng’s mind. After all, a man was entitled to his own grief; wasn’t that how they’d ended up in this situation to begin with?

Anyway, if he were to start hallucinating Wei Wuxian, he’d probably talk with him, too. He’d never stop talking to him.

Of course, he thought, no one would notice it if he did. The conversations would entirely consist of him listening and occasionally grunting in acknowledgment while Wei Wuxian chattered on and on –

He didn’t hallucinate.

No, no matter how bad the pain got, Lan Wangji remained painfully lucid, excessively sober.

There had only been once that it truly got to be too much for him, and he asked Jiang Cheng to bring him wine to drink in an attempt to not think about it –

Jiang Cheng refused to tell him what he’d said or done that night, telling him that nothing of interest occurred, but he never brought him any more wine, either, so Lan Wangji didn’t believe him in the slightest.

He didn’t ask again.

(No one ever answered Inquiry, either)

So no. It wasn’t the pain that was the worst – whether the physical pangs of his body or the mental lashing of his endless heartbreak, he could, and would, survive.

Nor was the worst part the forced bedrest.

After all, staying still for long periods of time was nothing to a member of the Lan sect, and the immobility allowed him time to contemplate his thoughts, turning them around and around in his head until they were as smooth and polished as a stone washed by the river.

He had a lot of thoughts.

Very few of them were good ones.

It might have been too much, if he’d been alone and in seclusion – if Jiang Cheng wasn’t always blowing into his room like a hurricane, loud and always blowing hot and cold; if he didn’t have A-Yuan coming to him for lessons, regular as clockwork; if he didn’t get Jin Ling dropped into his lap whenever Jiang Cheng was otherwise occupied. But even when they weren’t around, there was always fresh paper and ink if he wanted to write, his guqin close at hand and a never-empty pot of incense…even a weiqi board that they sometimes unmercifully tortured.

There were books as well, of course; all the books that the Jiang sect’s recovering library had to offer. By being conquered, the Jiang sect had escaped the fate of the Lan sect, and while their official library had been plundered of all its manuals and textbooks, many of the personal books remained – especially the ones hidden in the walls or ceiling by mischievous children.

Sometimes mischievous adults.

Lan Wangji read the stories to a fascinated A-Yuan and Jing Ling. Sometimes, if it was a good day, Jiang Cheng would come by as well to tell stories of memories that the stories evoked – that this one was the one Wei Wuxian had insisted on hearing every single night until they were all sick of it, that that one had been purchased on an outing to an especially boisterous market town downriver, that yet another had been read to him first when he’d been sick with a cough and Wei Wuxian had never let him forget how he always seemed to cough whenever the love interest’s name was mentioned.

(If it was a bad day, Lan Wangji would read the stories at a louder volume, trying to drown out the sound of sobs from the room across the way, and ignore as best he could the smell of bile and blood.)

Yes, the bedrest was manageable. Fine, even.

No, Lan Wangji thought, reaching the same conclusion as always – the worst part of being seriously injured was, without a doubt, the getting better.

“Time for physical conditioning!” Jiang Cheng crowed, looking far, far too cheerful about it.

It wasn’t even as if he had any room to complain about Lan Wangji as a patient! Even in the worst days of the injury, Lan Wangji hadn’t once complained about needing to turn over to avoid getting sores or to the endless sessions of acupuncture designed to help maintain his internal stability, he’d submitted to Jiang Cheng helping him stretch his arms and legs without anything more than a grunt of pain – he’d even carefully maintained a regular circulation of qi throughout his body to prevent his muscles and bones from deteriorating too much no matter how bad his mental state would sometimes get.

Lan Wangji had always intended on subjecting himself to a harsh physical regimen to regain his fitness once his wounds were not so dire that excessive movement would rip them open or cause his qi to become unstable. Yet Jiang Cheng took a truly gruesome joy in (unnecessarily) forcing Lan Wangji to do things, things like walk around the room, or lift weights, or – now that he was doing better – exercise.

And he was being such a pest about it, too.

He’d forced Lan Wangji to start by doing the horse stance again, like a child.

In fact, he seriously suspected that A-Yuan’s conditioning training routine and his own were identical, a suspicion supported by the way A-Yuan would mimic him and claim he was just practicing.

“It’s good that he’s so diligent,” Jiang Cheng said with a suspiciously straight face. “And has such a reliable role model.”

Lan Wangji glared at him, exhausted and pushed past his limits from the last hour of performing the most painfully basic sword exercises to re-habituate himself to it now that his back was most of the way healed. “Get lost.”

Jiang Cheng exaggeratedly brought his hands to his chest as if in shock. “It can’t be! Have I reached Wei Wuxian levels at last?”

Lan Wangji, who’d been trying to slowly execute a maneuver he’d had down since he was younger than A-Yuan was now, missed a step, then turned and glared to cover up his amusement.

(Any mention of Wei Wuxian had once immediately summoned a flood of sorrow and regret, but Jiang Cheng simply brought him up too often; Lan Wangji had by now become somewhat inured. He thought that Wei Wuxian’s spirit, wherever it was and however resistant to his summons, might enjoy that.)

Jiang Cheng squinted at him with a suspicious expression. “I think you found that funny, but with an ice-block like you, it’s impossible to say.”

“Feel free to chisel an expression you prefer.” Lan Wangji finished the maneuver and started it over again. The scars on his back pulled, but held without breaking or bleeding anew; it had been nearly two years since the discipline whip had fallen on his back, and while he was still far too weak to risk going out, it meant – irritatingly enough – that Jiang Cheng was correct and this level of exercise was indeed appropriate.

That didn’t mean Lan Wangji had to like it.

“Can I? You mean that you come in an option other than ‘mildly peeved’?”

“‘Faintly murderous’ is also available. Continue on your present course to see it.”

There was a snort from the door, a voice so familiar that Lan Wangji continued another five steps in his current maneuver before realizing that the voice shouldn’t be there, that it was familiar from his memories of Gusu rather than his present day at the Lotus Pier.

His fingers tightened around Bichen. “…Brother.”

Jiang Cheng had finally told Lan Xichen that he knew where Lan Wangji was, and apparently the entire thing had been a fiasco of such epic proportions that he refused to speak of it again.

(The few hints he’d given of the situation suggested that tears might have been involved, and possibly a black eye or two.)

Of course, he’d then followed it up by banning him from the Lotus Pier until Lan Xichen felt that he could come visit without immediately demanding (or requesting, which was more likely) that Lan Wangji return to Gusu with him.

Lan Wangji hadn’t been especially impressed with that requirement, given that he’d already told Jiang Cheng that he would not succumb to any such requests; it had led to several days of cold war between them until Jiang Cheng broke and confessed that he assumed that Lan Wangji would want to leave the second he laid eyes on Lan Xichen and so was postponing it as much as possible.

Lan Wangji had magnanimously forgiven him, since in truth he’d been a little concerned about the same.

He turned around.

Lan Xichen’s eyes were wet and glistening, his body a little thinner than Lan Wangji remembered, but it was still him in all the important, fundamental ways. His elder brother, who loved him, and Lan Wangji was suddenly full of so many feelings that he couldn’t even begin to understand them, much less express them.

“You know, I think I hear someone calling me urgently,” Jiang Cheng – who must have known that Lan Xichen was visiting, since entering the Lotus Pier required reporting his presence to the Sect Leader – said, turning and fleeing from the room at once.

“Coward,” Lan Wangji said mildly, knowing that Jiang Cheng’s cultivation was sufficient to let him hear the word without him having to raise his voice.

“Don’t blame Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Xichen said, and his voice was warm as the summer days of their childhood. “I came several days ago; he had no idea of which day I would finally work up my courage to see you.”

Lan Wangji blinked, surprised. “Courage?”

Why would his brother require courage to see him?

“Wangji…” Lan Xichen’s hands were clasped together in front of him, a sign of anxiety. “I was worried you were still angry at me. That I would come, and you would turn me away.”

Lan Wangji would not have extended the invitation if he hadn’t been willing to see him. “I would not have turned you away.”

“But you’re still angry,” Lan Xichen said wisely.

Lan Wangji shrugged, meaning a little, meaning the love of my life died alone and you lied to me about it, meaning that I understand why you did it does not lessen how I feel about it.

“I am sorry,” Lan Xichen said. “I was wrong.”

Lan Wangji was surprised. He knew his brother well enough to know he would never say the words merely out of guilt or convenience or a desire to make peace; to say them aloud, he would have had to think over his actions, truly think them over, and to decide that he had in fact been wrong.

Lan Xichen saw his surprise and ducked his head a little. “I confided in my sworn brothers, and each one of them told me, in very different terms and for very different reasons, I was an idiot,” he said. “Even if I feared for your life, even if I doubted your choices – you are an adult, and I treated you like a child. I broke your trust. It was wrong, and I should not have done it.”

They were still in dispute as to the quality of Wei Wuxian’s character, then, but – Lan Wangji could live with that. It seemed more real, somehow, than a complete turnaround would have been.

“You are forgiven,” he said, and mostly meant it. The remaining part of that ‘mostly’ was only a scar, and could be – and would be – ignored by strength of will. And then, because he did love his brother no matter how much pain he had caused him, he added, “I missed you.”

Lan Xichen rubbed his eyes, which caused a dull ache in Lan Wangji’s chest. “I missed you too, Wangji. I – oh, I was so worried!”

Lan Wangji took an automatic step back from the unexpected exclamation, but he supposed it was reasonable. He had disappeared with his back still torn open from the discipline whip, and he had become feverish to the point of fainting – yes, worry was a reasonable reaction.

Especially since Lan Wangji had stubbornly remained missing for two entire years.

“I meant you to be,” he said honestly, because Lan Xichen deserved to know that his perfect little brother had an unexpectedly spiteful side to him.

Lan Xichen smiled at him, unbothered. “I figured as much, when we couldn’t find you no matter where we looked – the cultivation world is not so large that you could go unnoticed, even hurt and suffering; you must have found a place to shelter. We were fairly sure you weren’t dead, and that meant it had to be intentional. I was angry, for a while, but eventually – well, in the end, I’m just happy to see you.”

Lan Wangji was happy to see Lan Xichen, too. He’d missed his big brother, so calm and gentle; that he was angry at him did not mean that he did not love him, that he didn’t want him around.

It was a sudden breath of wind on a pleasant day, a sudden gust of Gusu tranquility in the middle of the now-familiar ruckus of the Lotus Pier.

“Can I serve you tea?” Lan Wangji asked, suddenly full of the desire to show his brother his room here – to show him that he hadn’t suffered during this time. He wanted to show him the weiqi board so that he could laugh at the appalling (and yet disturbingly successful) way Jiang Cheng played, to show him the books and the sandalwood incense that reminded Lan Wangji so much of Gusu that there was no way that Jiang Cheng hadn’t ordered especially for him, to let him meet A-Yuan and get punched by little Jin Ling who was too small for his version of his uncle’s temper to be anything other than cute.

To show him that the Lotus Pier was not merely a shelter for Lan Wangji, but a home.

Lan Xichen nodded, and they went.

Lan Xichen seemed pleased with Lan Wangji’s room, nodding in approval as Lan Wangji showed him around. But when there was nothing else to be pointed out, he looked sidelong at Lan Wangji and murmured, “Sect Leader Jiang informed me that I was not to raise the possibility of you returning. Was that your will, or his?”

If he’s keeping you here by force, I will put aside all etiquette to fight for you, he meant, and Lan Wangji was touched.

“Both,” he said. “I am not ready to return to the Cloud Recesses.”

They both knew that it wasn’t his injuries that were preventing him.

“You like it here, then?”

“I do.”

A pause, and then – “I’m glad.”

They had tea, then, and spoke of other things. Lan Xichen, always the more talkative one, told Lan Wangji of the way life in Cloud Recesses had at long last started to resemble the days before fire and war, of the rambunctious child that their uncle had adopted and couldn’t seem to bring himself to scold, and even of the way his sworn brothers who could scarcely tolerate each other had managed to come together in agreement to help him search for Lan Wangji.

“I may have let them search a bit longer than I needed to,” Lan Xichen confessed. “Things were getting bad for a while there, very bad – did you hear about Xue Yang?”

“Mm. Disappeared before trial.”

“Yes, in the end. Before that, though, there was a period when da-ge’s temper was getting worse and worse, and A-Yao was doing everything he could to irritate him while pretending he’d never done anything wrong in his life, which of course irritated da-ge even more…I honestly thought one of them might try to kill the other. But then I ended up having a small fit while the two of them were bickering, and by the time I recovered they’d somehow managed to get over the worst of it.”

Lan Wangji raised his eyebrows.

“I think they realized that I couldn’t handle losing either of them at that time,” Lan Xichen said with a shrug, indicating clearly that the fit in question was not a subject that was open for discussion. “I’d had the abrupt realization that I really might never see you again, if not even they could locate you...it really was a surprise that Jiang Cheng turned out to be such an accomplished liar.”

“Did he actually lie?” Lan Wangji asked, truly curious. The Jiang Cheng he knew was a horrendous liar, but surprisingly good at omitting details.

A Yunmeng trait, according to Jiang Cheng. It made Lan Wangji wonder what secrets Wei Wuxian might have been keeping hidden behind his smile.

“Well, he was very good at misdirecting away from any direct questions, at any rate,” Lan Xichen said with a smile that was a little tense around the corners. Lan Wangji suspected that he hadn’t quite forgiven Jiang Cheng for his part in hiding Lan Wangji, for all that Lan Xichen would never permit himself to seek revenge for the slight. “Often with anger, or with bluster…do you truly enjoy his company?”

“Very much,” Lan Wangji said, and almost chuckled at Lan Xichen’s somewhat disbelieving face. “Was his confession to you as much of a disaster as he made it sound?”

“There were tears,” Lan Xichen said. “And not just mine.”

Lan Wangji hid away a smile.

In return, his brother’s eyebrows went up. Lan Wangji didn’t blame him; he knew that Lan Xichen was not accustomed to his ever-serious younger brother smiling, even a hidden one.

Lan Wangji did not know how to tell him that the only way to put up with Jiang Cheng for any period of time was to learn to find his antics funny – how to tell his brother that he’d smiled more, here in the Lotus Pier, than any period of his life to date.

Even the parts with Wei Wuxian in them had been too full of confusion for smiles, confusion and love and denial. He dearly wished that Wei Wuxian could see him now, occasional smiles and lowering himself to engage in banter with Jiang Cheng – he thought Wei Wuxian would like it.

He thought, perhaps over-optimistically, that Wei Wuxian might have liked him. This version of him.

There was a familiar creak, then, and Lan Wangji shook his head, even more amused.

“He’s about to kick the door open,” he told Lan Xichen, who looked even more surprised at the unexpected prediction. “He always does.”

Sure enough, a moment later, Jiang Cheng burst into the door like a blast of the south wind, hot and blustery; his arms were unsurprisingly full of children.

“You forgot to stretch before you left the training field,” he said conversationally, which was a tone that, to judge by Lan Xichen’s expression, sounded to a normal person like an angry, dismissive growl. “You get an extra hour of acupuncture as penance. Also, I hope your bonding time has been enjoyable, because it’s over now - I need you to watch the kids before they ruin my trade agreements.”

It was a demand, not a question, and Jiang Cheng didn’t wait for an answer: a moment later and he was gone again. But now there was Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui there, looking curiously at Lan Xichen, and Lan Wangji nodded at them to indicate that his presence had been sanctioned.

Lan Xichen, in turn, recovered himself quickly and smiled at them. “My name is Lan Xichen,” he said, opting for a far more informal introduction than would normally be appropriate. “You can call me Uncle, if you like. What’s your names?”

“I’m Lan Yuan, uncle,” A-Yuan said formally, and tried to salute the way Lan Wangji taught him. “And he’s Jin Ling. He’s not yet two, so he doesn’t bow yet. Hanguang-jun, should I take him to paint?”

Lan Wangji nodded his permission, so A-Yuan took Jin Ling by the hand – not hard, since Jin Ling was not-so-subtly trying to hide behind him to block Lan Xichen’s curious gaze – and led him over to the corner of the room where they’d stored all the children’s supplies.

“Lan Yuan,” Lan Xichen echoed, and turned his eyes on Lan Wangji. “I’d heard of him before. The stories made him out to be the product of some sort of tragic love affair or a mistress of Jiang Cheng’s. I hadn’t put it together with your presence here before. Does that mean…?”

Lan Wangji nodded, confirming Lan Xichen’s suspicions that he was the one raising him – that he’d agreed to share his surname with him.

“Where did you find him?”

Lan Wangji shook his head, refusing to answer.

Lan Xichen nodded slowly. There was a little pain in his eyes: they had once been so close that there had been no questions that wouldn’t be answered, or subjects that couldn’t be discussed, like Lan Xichen’s breakdown or Lan Yuan’s origins. “You’re right; it doesn’t matter. If you say he’s a Lan, then that’s enough for me…I’ll have him included in the family register at home, if you’ll consent.”

Once in the register, Lan Sizhui would have the right to wear the cloud-patterned forehead ribbon. It would give him the backing of being a member of the Lan clan, with all the responsibilities that came with it – the ones Lan Wangji was trying to teach him, and which he could learn better in the future if he went to the Cloud Recesses to learn.

It would be good for him to have that option.

“How will you explain it?” Lan Wangji asked, meaning I don’t want them to know I’m here.

Lan Xichen smiled faintly, and that was agreement – reluctant agreement, but agreement nonetheless. “I wasn’t planning on explaining it.”

For once in his life, Lan Wangji was almost looking forward to hearing the gossip.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #lan xichen #lan sizhui #jin ling #my fic #my fics #delight in misery

309 notes · View notes

pparkerpoetry · 4 years ago

Text

Heart of Gears and Gold

Summary: "Morally, Nook knew that eavesdropping was wrong. He’d been coded to do what was right, all the time, consistently, so of course he knew that listening in on a conversation he wasn’t involved in was wrong, but he was concerned. He was concerned about Sam, who looked as if he was deteriorating into nothing. He was concerned about Ranboo, who’s scars on his face were looking more prominent. Most of all, though, he was worried about Tommy. He hadn’t heard anything from Tommy in ages, and it just wasn’t like him to go silent for that long."

-or-

Nook wasn't made with a heart or the capacity to love, but he does it anyway.

Tommy goes missing, they tell him that it's a vacation.

Sam Nook needs to know the truth.

____________

i made this yesterday but i forgot to post it here, so...

___________

Sam Nook was the result of redbull and the determination to be better on a Friday night as Awesamdude fought off the remnants of a hangover. He hadn’t even been named, really, and had been sitting in a corner growing cobwebs since he’d been made. Awesamdude had intended for him to stay there, because what was the need for a little robot pal in a land where fires raged and wars were waged every other month, at best? No, the world was a cruel one, and it was no place for Sam Nook.

The cobwebs were dusted away one day, long after his creation. Or so it seemed. Time passed slowly when Nook spent his days in the dark of a closet.

Nook wasn’t sure why he’d been put into use, initially, but Sam had the habit of talking while he worked on improving and upgrading his body. Nook was meant to help a child named Tommy, who Sam spoke of very fondly. The days in the workshop passed and Nook learned about the child.

Tommy didn’t have a good past, Nook discovered. He’d been raised on fields of blood and taught how to fight instead of which manners to use when. He’d been given a sword instead of a toy and told to survive instead of learning how to grow and to cope. Tommy was made of iron and steel, and though Nook knew it was all metaphorical, he couldn’t help but feel happy that there was someone like him.

Sam was nice. Sam just didn’t know how much of a genius he was, and since he had no clue that his robot was aware, instead of being truly able to speak, Nook was trapped in a little metal cage, stuck and still.

The day that Nook was given a voice?

He wouldn’t stop using it. It wasn’t a human voice, but it was unique. He liked it. It was his own, and Nook liked having something for himself. It wasn’t long before Sam sent him off to monitor Tommy’s healing, his recovering, his lessons on responsibility.

Nook had been given a voice, but he had never been given a heart. So why was it that he cared so much? He wasn’t sure. But he liked Tommy. Tommy was conflicted, and hurt, and Nook knew how gentle to be so that Tommy would trust him but wouldn’t take advantage of him. He wasn’t quite able to fathom the power he held, being so close to Tommy, but he knew that if that power had fallen into the wrong hands another time, Nook never would have been improved. What need is there for a babysitter when there is no baby?

He didn’t like thinking about death. It was one of the things he was confused about, and though many things fell under that category, Nook didn’t like death. Tommy spoke of death sometimes. Of his older brother who wasn’t really his brother, but it felt like it, because we were really close and always had each other’s backs- Nook thought that Tommy’s words were an awfully long way to say that he was still grieving. He didn’t mind. His job was to help Tommy, not to fix someone that didn’t need fixing, but support.

Tommy spoke of death a lot. It wasn’t always about Wilbur (Nook learned at one point that Wilbur was the name of the older brother. He thought it was Technoblade, but when he mentioned it to Sam, Sam had said Technoblade was still alive. How many brothers did Tommy have?), and Nook liked death even less when Tommy spoke about death in relation to himself. Nook didn’t want to think of Tommy dead. Tommy was his friend, and he would always be there for Tommy. Wasn’t that enough?

Of course, Nook knew that there was more than the simple life that he led. He never had to sleep, he just sat on his charging station overnight while he waited for the sun and for the child that always bounded up the hill as soon as the light hit the land, eyes dull and face sunken. Tommy had his bad days, so Nook always kept easier tasks on the side to give him.

Oh, the chest needs organizing. Oh, the hotel needs an infinite water source. Oh-

Tommy never caught on. Nook made sure of it, and although there was one bad day that he’d given Tommy a real task (I need hearts of the sea-), he made sure to be careful with the teen. No loud noises, no sudden movements, no being over-top-nice. Tommy had triggers. He’d asked Sam once why Tommy was so jumpy, but Sam’s eyes had turned dark and he had left. Nook didn’t ask anymore, but he figured it had something to do with the prisoner contained in the prison that loomed ominously in the distance.

The prison made Nook uneasy.

Days had passed by, and he grew more protective of Tommy. He wasn’t supposed to. Nook’s whole existence was to help Tommy, yes, but not to this extent. Once or twice Nook wondered if he was becoming more alive, but he didn’t want to think about it. Humanity hurt, and he had heard tales of pain more than anything. Nightmares that plagued their minds, or the injuries that they did to each other-

Jack Manifold was someone to be wary around. He’d tried to kill Tommy a few times, and though he was skilled in playing it off as a joke, Nook didn’t miss the fury that burned behind the multi-colored sunglasses.

Badboyhalo was another on Nook’s mental list of… enemies? No, that wasn’t the right word. What was the right word? Maybe he’d ask Sam. Or Tommy. But Tommy said Jack was a friend, so what was his opinion on Bad?

Nook had learned that Bad was on the side of the crimson vines that edged their way onto the property. Nook wasn’t programmed to show fear, but he wasn’t created with a capacity for love, either.

The egg scared him.

As much as he hated to admit it, the egg terrified him. It got Bad into places he shouldn’t have been able to.

Puffy was a good one, though. Nook liked her smile. She was always nice to Tommy and while she wasn’t as good at hiding her pain as she thought, she helped others. Nook didn’t know what had happened to make her so sad, but everyone was sad those days. Puffy, Nook decided, would get a discount if she ever bought a room at the Big Innit Hotel.

Nook’s days were simple. In the mornings, he’d get off of his charging station and head to the hotel, getting a few hours of building in without Sam if he finished charging early enough. Some days, Tommy would come running after that, other days he’d walk, others he didn’t show at all. Nook didn’t like the days that passed by without the familiar mop of blond hair and the loud swears that he had to hide a laugh at.

Tommy made Nook feel alive, and some days, he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing.

After Sam and himself finished the hotel, Nook had been excited. Tommy had been looking forward to this for ages, and he hoped that it was good enough.

Nook didn’t like the feeling of doubt that wormed its way through his gears. He hadn’t been programmed to doubt anything, he reminded himself, and code didn’t lie. Humans lied.

One morning, Nook was just loitering around the hotel, since he’d had a lot of free time since the build had been completed. He’d been without purpose before, but this was different. He could do whatever he wanted, but he just wanted to help Tommy. There was still a lot of healing to do.

Speak of the devil, Tommy came sprinting up to where Nook stood. “I thought I’d find you here, Big Man!” Tommy grinned. “I just wanted to say hi before I go to the prison.”

Nook turned quickly. HELLO TOMMYINNIT. I WOULD NOT RECOMMEND GOING TO THE PRISON. I DO NOT LIKE IT.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “You never liked it. Just one last time, alright? Then I can catch a break, and I dunno, maybe I’ll take a vacation.” He laughed. “Can you imagine? I’ve never had a vacation before. I’d probably just wake up and think I got exiled again.”

YOU MAY GO IF YOU WISH, Nook nodded anxiously, BUT I WISH YOU WOULDN’T. IT MAKES ME UNEASY.

Tommy snorted and started walking away. He waved, and was still smiling. Nook thought he looked almost like a kid again, not some soldier who was tired of life. “Bye, Nook! I’ll catch you later!”

Sam didn’t show up that day to monitor the hotel, nor the next day, so Nook took that to mean that the job was over. He was almost sad, but he caught himself. He hadn’t been made to be sad. Only to help.

Nook tried to find Tommy, but he wasn’t at his house, which he thought was a little odd, but he didn’t mind. Maybe today would finally be the day he got to listen and observe the birds. They were peculiar creatures, birds were.

He hadn’t meant to spend all day and all night watching the birds, but once he saw them, he’d wandered to a nearby stream to look at the fish, then to the little cricket that had been hopping around…

When he got back to the hotel, for he hadn’t gotten Sam to move his charging station and he was very, very low, the large sign he’d put up was taken down, and another took its place. He couldn’t read what it said, but he didn’t have time to look at it yet. He figured it was just something Tommy put up, so he went to charge.

The next morning, he saw the name, clear and bold. JACK MANIFOLD, he muttered, YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU TAMPERED WITH THE HOTEL.

Sure, Tommy had mentioned a few days ago that he wanted to hire Jack, but this was too far.

“Oh, hey, Sam Nook.” Jack himself stood by the entrance. “Hope you don’t mind the rebranding. I’m taking over while Tommy’s, uh, on vacation.”

Nook wanted to yell, but he remembered the kind greeting that he was confined to. HELLO, JACK MANIFOLD. I HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL,- he didn’t wait for a response -BUT YES, I DO MIND THE REBRANDING. WHEN TOMMY RETURNS FROM HIS VACATION, IF THAT IS WHERE HE IS, THEN HE WILL BE VERY DISPLEASED.

He didn’t understand why he felt so angry at Jack, so Nook replaced the sign and took another day off. Sam still hadn’t showed up, so he took a journey to the portal that Tommy had told him about. It shone brightly, and he liked it, but he didn’t dare pass through. Not without someone by his side.

Time passed quicker than he realized, and before he knew it, the purple sheen darkened with the shadows of night. Nook didn’t want to go back yet, so he stayed out. He walked to where he’d heard a new member had settled down, and he liked the flowers there. He stayed there for a while.

When he woke up, Nook was at his charging station. There was a sign that told him he’d shut down while in the flower field, so someone carried him back. No signature was on the note, but when he journeyed up to the hotel, he had an inkling of an idea.

There were more signs. The large one, advertising the hotel, was different, hand-drawn, but Nook wasn’t mad about that. Apparently, Jack had changed it before Puffy put it back. Nook decided that if Puffy ever got into trouble, he’d defend her. She was one of the good ones on this server of murderers and authorities.

Jack showed his face again.

HELLO JACK MANIFOLD, Nook greeted. I REALLY WISH YOU WOULD STOP CHANGING THE APPEARANCE OF THE BIG INNIT HOTEL SIGN. TOMMY WON’T BE PLEASED, WHEN HE RETURNS, AND I SHOULD LIKE YOU TO REMAIN AN EMPLOYEE.

Nook brushed over the fact that he’d told his first lie. Jack called for more attention- he looked cheerful, but not completely so, if was a conflicted cheerfulness. Today was not the day to antagonize him, Nook decided. He was hurting. Why? Nook wasn’t sure.

I AM GOING TO LEAVE, Nook announced, AND WHEN I COME BACK, I WANT THE SIGN TO BE THE SAME.

Jack didn’t respond.

Nook spent the day exploring, just wandering, and he couldn’t shake the loss that he felt. He wasn’t lost, though. He knew where he was.

It was late before he remembered to go back before his battery died somewhere no one would find him, but as Nook walked back, Puffy was burning a part of the path.

HELLO CAPTAIN PUFFY! He smiled. Today had been a good day. HOW ARE YOU TODAY?

When she turned to respond, her eyes were red. Something was wrong. “Hey, Nook.” She said blankly, watching the flames as her eyes welled up with tears.

WHY ARE YOU CRYING? He questioned. HAS BADBOYHALO UPSET YOU? SHOULD I TAKE CARE OF HIM FOR YOU?

Puffy chuckled, but there was no feeling behind it. “No, Nook. Bad’s fine for now. I’ll deal with him later.”

SO HE HAS UPSET YOU? Nook tilted his head. THEN WHY BURN THE PATH? I AM SORRY, BUT I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

“That’s fine. You should probably head back, though. Don’t let your battery run out.” Puffy sniffled as she wiped her sleeve across her nose.

Nook made a soft sound. IF YOU EVER NEED A BREAK, FEEL FREE TO STOP BY THE BIG INNIT HOTEL. DON’T TELL TOMMY, BUT I INTEND TO GIVE YOU A SIGNIFICANT DISCOUNT. YOU DESERVE IT, CAPTAIN PUFFY.

It hadn’t been the right thing to say. She started crying harder, so Nook left her to mourn whatever had happened. It wasn’t his place to pry.

Weird things kept happening. Quackity had visited that night, too, but Jack pulled him away from hotel property to chat. And then the next day, more people stopped by the Hotel. They didn’t buy a room, though. They just stared. Some in pity, at him, but mostly in sadness.

A rival inn had popped up, and Nook was excited. He’d be able to convince Tommy to get upgrades easier this way, now. Tommy just had to get back. He missed Tommy.

Sam visited, finally. Nook noticed the devastated look on his face, but it was common those days. He wondered if there had been another war he didn’t know about.

HELLO, AWESAMDUDE! DO YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION ON WHEN TOMMY RETURNS? Nook asked eagerly. I WISH TO BEGIN UPGRADES SOON.

Sam looked like he might cry. “No, Nook, Tommy, uh-” He paused, as if changing what he was going to say. “No, He said he was going to be gone a while, though. You might want to start upgrades by yourself. I’ve got prison business to deal with.”

Nook remembered his conversation with Tommy. DID TOMMY HAVE A GOOD VISIT AT THE PRISON? HE TOLD ME HE WAS GOING, BUT HE DIDN’T MENTION HIS VACATION.

As if distracted, Sam hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. The visit went okay.”

DREAM PLAYED NICE? He asked, just to make sure (ah, yes, his favorite discovery of recent days. Dream was the one in the prison, the one responsible for Tommy’s sorrow).

Sam froze. “I gotta go, Nook, I might be by later, but don’t count on it. And- yeah,” he hid a sob, “Dream played nice.”

Nook had the feeling that Sam was hiding something from him. And so began a new feeling for the android: Hurt.

He tried to notice things more, but eventually, it was staring him in the face. Like when he went inside of the hotel the next night to find Badboyhalo and his egg group having a party. Puffy was with him, and she began yelling at them, but Nook took over. He drew himself to his full height, which wasn’t that much, but he was still taller than everyone in the room.

BADBOYHALO, he thundered, and he wasn’t used to speaking so loudly. I EXPECT YOU HAVE GOOD REASON TO BE HERE, OR I WILL HAVE TO ASK YOU TO LEAVE. He laid a hand on the hilt of his sword and he summoned the most fearsome look he could manage.

The demon paused before speaking. Everyone had been, when speaking to him. He wanted to know why, but this wasn’t the right moment. “Hey, Nook. Yeah, we were just… celebrating.”

CELEBRATING WHAT, EXACTLY?

“Oh. Well, it’s Jack’s birthday! We figured that Jack was Tommy’s friend so he wouldn’t mind us having a party here.”

Nook didn’t mention that Jack wasn’t even there. He didn’t mention how confused he was, or how much he wanted to know what was going on, but he made sure they left. He wished Jack a happy birthday when he walked by, but Jack had just given him a puzzled look.

Nook added it to the growing list of things that people were hiding things from him. His list of people he trusted was growing thinner.

It didn’t take long for him to discover why.

He’d been walking back to the hotel, just to check if Tommy had gotten back, when distantly, he heard Sam and Ranboo talking. Ranboo was a peculiar subject, Nook had decided. He was also conflicted, and always showed signs of regret whenever he spoke of Tommy with Nook. Nook wasn’t quite sure why, but he’d find out soon enough.

Morally, Nook knew that eavesdropping was wrong. He’d been coded to do what was right, all the time, consistently, so of course he knew that listening in on a conversation he wasn’t involved in was wrong, but he was concerned. He was concerned about Sam, who looked as if he was deteriorating into nothing. He was concerned about Ranboo, who’s scars on his face were looking more prominent. Most of all, though, he was worried about Tommy. He hadn’t heard anything from Tommy in ages, and it just wasn’t like him to go silent for that long.

He was doing the right thing.

Sam sounded near tears, even though it was clear he’d just been sobbing. “I couldn’t stop it, Ranboo. He just, I got into the cell and he was just laughing, I was yelling at him and he was just laughing, in my face-”

“He was laughing?” Ranboo whispered.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “And then- oh, god. I had to carry his body out of the cell, and his eyes just stared at me. They stared at me, and he was so quiet,” Sam covered his mouth to hide another sob, “And the blood, the blood got everywhere-”

Nook’s eyes widened. Someone had died in the prison? Who?

“There was no way you could have let him out?” Ranboo asked, but Nook knew that his anger was gone, replaced with the cold emptiness that hope left when it disappeared.

“No, Ranboo,” Sam whispered. “Because if Dream had held him on that bridge, threatening his life if he wasn’t let out, then I wouldn’t have had a choice. I wouldn’t have had the courage to leave him in the cell. I’d have freed Dream.”

Nook thought for a moment. Who did Sam love enough to let Dream out for? He didn’t like any of the options on the list.

Sam continued. “And the worst part of it- The worst part is that every time I see Nook, I have to act as if Tommy’s still alive and having a great time, I have to act as if it wasn’t my fault that Tommy is dead, I have to act as if Tommy’s dead eyes don’t haunt me every time I try to sleep because I coded him to be loyal to Tommy and I don’t what he’ll do if he discovers he’s gone.”

What?

Nook left. He didn’t want to hear this conversation. It wasn’t true, was it? It couldn’t be.

It made a lot of sense.

Nook went to his charging station, and when he opened his eyes the next morning, everything seemed a little duller.

Puffy was out, and Nook couldn’t help but feel hurt that yes, even she had hid this from him. Or maybe not. He didn’t know if it was true.

What was she- oh. She was building a memorial. It was cobblestone, of course, with a picture of a disc in the middle.

Who Are You Building That For? Nook asked, and was surprised to hear his voice sound…

“Whoa, Nook, are you okay?” Puffy asked. Her eyes hadn’t gotten any less red, “You sound sad.”

Who? Nook asked, even though he already knew the answer. Who Died, Puffy? You Wouldn’t Lie, Right?

“Nook,” Puffy sighed, but he interrupted.

why didn’t you tell me that dream killed tommy? Nook asked, his high pitched voice now soft and quiet.

“Sam-”

Sam Wasn’t Sure I Could Be Trusted. Nook shrugged. He couldn’t be bothered to defend himself when all that he felt was frustration. He was coded to build and protect, but damn if he didn’t want to destroy the entire server.

He walked away, pretending not to hear Puffy calling out for him.

Mechanically, (he almost laughed at that thought. Mechanical- he was.) he began to tear down the Big Innit Hotel. Why? Well-

“Nook?” Sam shouted from below the hotel. His voice cracked. “Are you alright?”

Nook went down to the first floor. He was already a pretty good way into the hotel dismantling. HELLO, AWESAMDUDE. He said coldly, almost liking the way Sam flinched away. WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE, TODAY?

Sam sighed, but his breath was unsteady. “So, you found out. Are you okay?”

I AM ANGRY, Nook said simply. THAT SUCH A YOUNG LIFE WAS TAKEN. I AM ANGRY THAT DREAM STILL LIVES.

“Well, I can’t just-”

KILL HIM? Nook asked. Taunted, almost. WHY NOT? WHAT’S STOPPING YOU? OR ME? TELL ME, SAM, WHAT IS STOPPING ME FROM GOING AGAINST MY CODING COMPLETELY? PUFFY IS BARGAINING, YOU LET IT SADDEN YOU, TUBBO MAY STILL BE IN DENIAL BY PUSHING HIMSELF BACK INTO LOGIC AND RANBOO MAY HAVE ACCEPTED IT, BUT TELL ME, AWESAMDUDE, WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME IF I TOLD YOU THAT I WAS SO ANGRY THAT I DOUBT IT IS POSSIBLE TO CALM ME DOWN? WOULD YOU BELIEVE IN MY ANGER IF I TORE DOWN THIS ENTIRE HOTEL, THEN TOOK THE SERVER WITH IT? MAKE NO MISTAKE, SAM, I AM NOT GOING AGAINST ALL THAT YOU CREATED ME TO BE. I AM LOYAL TO TOMMY FIRST AND FOREMOST, SO TELL ME, WHAT AM I, NOW THAT HE’S GONE?

Sam didn’t answer. Nook could tell he was crying, but he couldn’t feel anything except rage.

I AM FREE, Nook yelled, and his voice shook. I AM FREE OF THE ATTACHMENT THAT KEPT ME DOCILE. I AM FREE OF EVERYTHING THAT I LIVED FOR, SO WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO, SAM? TELL ME, BECAUSE I DO NOT KNOW.

Sam looked at him. He looked just about as lost as Nook felt. “I- I don’t know, Nook. You weren’t the only one that lost him, but… I think I could let you visit Dream, if you… if you want to yell at him, or something. I owe it to you.”

Nook deflated. YOU DO NOT OWE ME, AWESAMDUDE. YOU HAVE GIFTED ME WITH LIFE, BUT IF YOU ARE OKAY WITH IT, I WOULD LIKE TO SEE DREAM. I PROMISE I WON’T KILL HIM TOO MUCH.

Sam managed a weak smile at the joke. “I know you’ll try your best. If you do, though, I won’t be that choked up.”

___________

Nook liked the look of fear on Dream’s face. He wasn’t supposed to- he was supposed to protect, he was supposed to care, he was supposed to do all of the things that he had done when Tommy was alive, but then, in that moment,

He wanted blood.

By all means, it should have been comical, he knew what his voice sounded like, but Dream looked terrified, and it wasn’t an act. Nook would know, he’s spent his entire life deciphering whatever Tommy was hiding. No, Dream is scared, and he is scared to show it.

Nook latches onto that uncertainty.

you killed him, Nook growls. This has been going on for a while. you killed him and i want nothing more than to make you pay.

Dream shouldn’t have been so affected by the yelling, but a quote from his mother echoed in his brain.

“Be afraid if someone peaceful takes up arms. Being kind is a strength, not a weakness, and should they go against you, you will not win.”

Dream tried to push down the terror rising in him, instead holding onto how bored he was. He wanted something new. “I’ll bring him back! I’ll get the book and I’ll bring him back, if it’s worth so much to you.”

Nook glared at him. YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT YOU DON’T NEED A BOOK, DREAMWASTAKEN. WE BOTH KNOW THAT YOU MADE IT UP. BRING HIM BACK, AND MAYBE I WILL SPARE YOU.

“Sam wouldn’t let you kill me,” Dream tried, but there was doubt in his mind. He sighed, and lifted a hand.

Just like that, there is another being in the cell. A floating one. Not a ghost, but a god. XD, he was called, and he had the power to do anything.

“Yes?” The god asked, and Dream sighed again. He hated not being in control.

“Bring the kid back.”

“So you can kill him again?” XD asked, unamused, and Nook wonders how many times this has happened before.

NO, Nook objected. SO THAT I CAN STOP THIS SERVER’S MISERY AND BRING BACK THE CHILD THAT DIED TOO YOUNG.

XD hummed. “You’re interesting. What are you? You aren’t quite human, you aren’t quite android. You’re an in-between. Curious.”

IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT I AM, JUST WHAT YOU CAN DO. Nook said. ARE YOU GOING TO BRING HIM BACK OR NOT?

And, just like that, there’s Tommy. He’s got a black eye and he’s shaking, like he’s expecting to be killed again, but when he saw Sam Nook he ran.

“Sam Nook?” He whispered, as Nook gathered him into a hug. “Is this real?”

IT’S REAL. Nook reassured. I’M NOT GOING TO LET THEM HURT YOU ANY LONGER. ANY OF THEM.

Sam was already crying, but he started sobbing once Tommy came into sight, murmuring apologies and promises and anything that he can do to show how sorry he is. “I’m sorry, Tommy, I’m so sorry,”

Tommy was crying too. Nook could only stand and watch. “It’s okay, big man, really. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

The rest of the server got back their hope that day, but Nook? Nook got Tommy, and he got days on the roof of the rebuilt hotel with him, chatting about everything and nothing, and he got emotions, and maybe, throughout it all, as he smiled fondly as Tommy bickered with Ranboo, maybe humanity was worth the pain it brought.

#tommyinnit #captain puffy #badboyhalo #awesamdude #jack manifold #sam nook #angst #hurt/comfort #dream #dreamsmp #dsmp #dreamxd #death #mourning #grief

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